"Come here, by the warmth, child."
Daron beckoned at Kavik who sat studiously by the pile of dusty textbooks in front of him. The chair scraped against the floor as he stood up to meet his uncle.
Two weeks in the Grey Barrens had completely changed Kavik. Two weeks ago, Daron told Kavik to wield power to the fullest, and never look back.
Two weeks ago, he told him to let power control him.
And yet, all of that held no weight as Kavik has been forced to study ancient philosophical texts and history books. He couldn't help the feeling of revulsion as he stared at each book with disdain.
Unfortunately, he had to read them. For without successfully completing each text, Daron promised to increase the number of books to be completed, and deprive him of the necessary knowledge to wield the Phantom Flame without losing himself. Kavik's only source of power and utmost weapon was the Phantom Flame, and so, for the purpose of currying Daron's favor enough to deem him worthy of training, Kavik dedicated himself to the books.
'Textbooks are pile of rubbish, child. They're beneath us.' King Zod groaned lazily in Kavik's mind but he'd pushed him away.
Kavik found Zod's intrusive nature quite entertaining, but also a chore. Sometimes, he'd get a jumpscare from having to share his mind and consciousness with a literal god who wanted nothing but chaos.
"Sit." Daron motioned to him, and he did. "So, tell me about your progress."
His quizzes were always in this form: an intriguing curiosity about your knowledge before he began prodding and asking questions.
"I'm done with the Classics texts and I've only just started History."
Daron stroked his grey beards, his dark eyes twinkling with an uncanny amusement as he studied Kavik. Daron wasn't the most predictable person but he wasn't too mysterious either. He stroked his chin when he found something amusing, exhilarating than normal or infuriating. But this time, Kavik wagered it was amusement.
"Very well," he leaned back and randomly picked one of the texts, flipping through the pages.
Kavik recognized the book as Jillian Markov's Republic, a philosophy text filled with 100 pages of absolute jargons but strangely formed sentences.
"The first step to Ruin…" Daron recited a line from the book, urging Kavik to complete it.
Kavik recognized that line instantly, and so he flipped through the book in his head to complete it. "…is the Desire to Exist—the Ego. The second is the Desire to Act—The Will. The third is the Desire to Wield—the Soul. Only when these three desires align can a man bridge the gap between the Flesh and the Phantom."
Daron looked hardly impressed by Kavik's strong memorizing skills, yet he gave him a simple smile and leaned back into his chair.
"What did Markov mean by that?"
Now, Kavik was dumbfounded. He'd only memorized the classics, he hadn't felt the need to understand them because they all felt like a heap of rubbish that looked philosophical.
"No idea." Kavik blurted out to Daron's displeasure. Daron flipped to another page and recited a line.
"Man is forged by the goddess on the basis of five things, what did Markov call them?"
Kavik could've sworn he heard King Zod scoff in mockery in his head but he didn't have the time to dwell on that.
Again, Kavik flipped through the books in his mind and found the answer. "Divine spark, fire, desire, love and darkness."
"Then, if all of humanity is pure and divine as created by the Goddess, what accounts for the existence of the Phantom?"
Daron knew he'd thrown Kavik off with the question. It wasn't in the textbook. None of them.
"It's not in the texts. Why are you asking me what's not in the texts?" Kavik frowned with a flaring annoyance.
To him, it looked like Daron was trying to downplay all his efforts in memorizing the Classics, and he would not take that.
"Mastering the Classics isn't a matter of memorizing and quoting them as they're written by scholars, child," Daron said as he set the book down. "The true mastery of the Classics lies in understanding the meanings with regard to how the world is structured and perceived. You haven't memorized the Classics, you've just cheated your way through knowing the words."
Later that night, Kavik skipped dinner to begin reading the Classics again. He took each character and sentences apart, studying them individually and the probable meaning behind each of them.
"'If all of humanity and pure and divine,'" he quoted, "'what accounts for the existence of the Phantom?'"
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to understand it. The goddess was the strongest and greatest force of nature, and yet, there was an enormous, tainted force just as strong as hers that rivaled it. Did she create it? Was King Zod truly the greatest rival force of all?
It didn't make sense to Kavik. So he set the textbooks aside and studied History.
History was quite interesting for Kavik. Before the Testing and his death in Ruinhold, one of his favorite things to do was study history and listen to the elders argue about it.
Now, understanding the clockwork theory of evolution and Bloodcrest stretched his mind farther than ever.
He'd found it fascinating how they'd grown from divided regions into one single empire bound by political power under the reign of Lawler Aurellan, the strongest Wind Wielder who'd diplomatically defeated the cruel rulers of each regions who benefited from geopolitical enmity and power. No wonder the Wind Wielders were best known as diplomats and respected peacemakers.
He let his hands wander freely on the shelf in his room, until a book fell in his hands. It was a small book—perhaps ten-paged or less—with a 'Z' inscribed on the back, yet it felt like a bag of lead.
Opening it felt ominous and even the cover felt heavy to open. The first page had sparse words in the Olden Tongue and only strange patterns in the middle. The rest of the pages looked the same, except with alternating patterns and different positions.
Kavik found it strange, and despite the voice in his head telling him to try and decipher it, he'd put the book away and returned to his lantern to read.
He opened the Classics once again, stretching his mind as far as he could in an attempt to understand the meanings. Then, Kavik realized one thing they had in common.
In History, only one person was generally recognized to Wield the Phantom and he was rumored to have ran mad, causing chaos only to be ended by Lawler Aurellan himself.
But Daron Evaran, the Fierce Wolf of the North and the odd Wielder of House Evaran—for he had been the only exception to the ancestral Wielding of House Evaran which was Ice—had Wielded the Phantom Flame before Kavik's very eyes. Yet, he was never mentioned in affiliation with the Flame. Who lied?
What if there was more?
"To bridge the Gap between Flesh and the Phantom, you had to successfully align the desires of existing, willing and wielding." It still didn't make any sense to Kavik.
'Stupidboy,' King Zod scoffed. 'The true key to Wielding the Phantom is—'
"If you won't help me then shut the fuck up!" Kavik hissed and Zod went mute in his mind, giving Kavik the chance to be sane again.
A throbbing headache was what followed. He pushed the books aside and went to his bed, staring up at the same grey ceiling as he always did before sleeping.
Maybe one day it'd all make sense, Kavik muttered before drifting into the darkness.
***
The training circle was a patch of dirt cleared of snow.
The only sound was caused by the rhythmic action of Kavik's whetstone against his practice sword. He didn't look like the broken boy who had arrived six months ago. He was slender, his movements possessing a fluid, almost delicate grace, but there was an iciness in his eyes. They looked almost dead, but it was fatigue.
Daron watched him, leaning against a wooden post. "You've spent too much time with textbooks, child. Your mind is getting crowded. Let's see if you can clear it."
He tossed a wooden training sword at Kavik.
Kavik caught it mid-air with a tight grip. Kavik prepared his mind for the drill. His uncle rarely gave him free time since they began martial arts: sword fighting, archery, knifing and wrestling.
"Standard formation," Daron began, circling him.
Kavik knew what's to come. A random question to throw him off balance. At first, Kavik had thought it was only to make him lose focus. But as he got better, he'd realized he could focus on various multiple things at once: strategize and plan his next attack while reasoning different logical questions.
"You are commanding the rear guard. A plague has broken out among the camp followers—the wives, the healers, the laundry maids. If it spreads, your front line collapses before they even see the enemy. The healers say they need three weeks and half your food stores to contain it. What is your command?"
Kavik moved with the question, a low sweep of his blade that Daron stepped over. He let his mind capture the necessary information and work on it at a clock speed.
"I wouldn't give up the food," Kavik said, his voice quiet, almost conversational. "That would be cruel to the soldiers who have to fight."
"So you let the plague run its course?"
"No." Kavik parried a blow, his movements fluid. "I would tell the camp followers that a 'sanctuary' has been prepared for them three miles up-river. I'd send them there with the promise of medicine. And then, once they are gathered in the valley..." he paused, his eyes meeting Daron's with an eerily calm expression. "I would have the archers use fire-arrows. A quick end is more merciful than a slow rot, Uncle. And the river would carry the ash away from our water supply."
Daron's blade stilled for a split second. "You'd burn them alive to save three weeks' worth of rations?"
"I'd burn them to save the ten thousand men who are still healthy," Kavik corrected gently.
"If I do nothing, everyone dies. If I do what I suggested, only the suffering die. It's like culling sick animals so the healthy ones survive. It's a sad necessity, isn't it?"
Daron lunged, a heavy overhead strike. Kavik didn't meet the force; he slid to the side, letting the weight of Daron's momentum pass him by.
Daron grunted in approval of his logic, moving to his next question. "The Doctrine of the Divine Spark. The Classics claim every soul is an equal reflection of the Goddess. If you are faced with a choice between saving a High-Priest who knows the ancient rites, or twenty common laborers who build the walls, who do you save?"
Kavik didn't hesitate. "The laborers."
Daron blinked, surprised. "The Priest holds the 'Divine Spark' of the Goddess. The laborers are replaceable."
"The Priest holds knowledge," Kavik retorted gently. "Knowledge can be found in places as common as a book. But ten laborers provide the physical manpower required to maintain the wall, even better if one of them's a Wielder. Without the wall, the Priest dies anyway. I choose the laborers because their utility is higher in a state of siege. No one would care about their 'Divine Spark' in a war, Uncle. I care about their output."
"History," Daron said, his pace quickening. "The Fall of the Sun-Kings. They fell because they taxed the grain until the peasants ate their own horses. You need gold for a war. Do you tax the bread or the wine?"
"Neither," Kavik replied, his breath steady. He feinted a retreat, drawing Daron in. "I would tax the temples. They hold the most gold and contribute the least to the marches. If the priests complain, I'll remind them that the Goddess loves a cheerful giver. And if they still refuse..." he offered a small, apologetic smile, "I'll bring famine to their doorstep."
Daron stepped back, lowering his sword. He looked at Kavik—really looked at him. The boy was slender, soft-spoken, and moved with the elegance of a poet. But the logic coming out of his mouth was like a cold knife.
"You've learned the 'how' of the world," Daron said quietly. "But you're still missing the 'why.' You treat people like variables in an equation."
"You're growing into one terrifying student, child," Daron remarked, a dark amusement dancing in his eyes.
Just then, something leapt in Kavik's body. He didn't know what exactly it was, but it felt like pride. He had earned his uncle's praise, and he wanted more of it.
He vied for it, even.