Chapter Two #2
Harold nodded and chuckled, the low warmth of it mixing with the firelight and the two human furnaces flanking her. She instinctively leaned a fraction away from Andrew before continuing, voice rising slightly in pitch.
“Right, well then, please do explain why I was in the middle of giving a perfectly good lecture when I suddenly ended up with a tattoo on my wrist—something I would never get, mind you, because I’m deathly afraid of needles—and then some nightmare-shadow .
.. entity decides to hunt me down, and Andrew, whom I’ve known for years and assumed was just an annoyingly smug academic, suddenly starts controlling ice like it’s a perfectly normal Tuesday!
” Hysteria wasn’t doing her any favors in her explanation.
“Hey,” Andrew said, offended. “I’m not smug.”
“But maybe a bit annoying,” Juliette added with a snort.
“And why aren’t any of you surprised by any of this?” Isla continued, narrowing her eyes. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about this before?”
She turned to scowl at Juliette, who looked sheepish.
“Okay,” Harold said, interrupting her tirade. “They were both forbidden to say anything. We all were. The government requires permission before disclosing anything to someone whose abilities haven’t awakened—and that permission is rarely granted. Usually only in matters of national security.”
“So the government, the prime minister, knows about all of this?” Isla asked, looking at them all suspiciously but feeling utterly ridiculous. She hated not understanding.
Harold smiled. “Yes, he knows that a minority of individuals have certain abilities and that it is kept quiet to avoid trouble.”
“Okay, then explain this mark and the whole ‘powers’ thing. Is it like some kind of superhero origin story?” Now she knew she was utterly ridiculous.
That made all three of them laugh. Isla crossed her arms, feeling more like a schoolchild rather than a university professor.
“Not superheroes,” Harold said. “Just people. Living ordinary lives with extraordinary abilities.”
At her skeptical look, he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as if settling in for a story.
“Long ago, humanity was touched by the Aether, and fragments of its essence remained dormant in certain lineages.
Over generations, a small portion of the population have inherited these Aetheric traces strongly enough to awaken gifts under the right emotional or intellectual conditions. These people are called the Aetherians.
“The Aetheric Arts is the term we use to describe the gifts Aetherians develop. They’re rooted in four elemental paths: Ventus, Ignis, Terra, and Aqua.”
“And how does one awaken these gifts?” Isla asked. She felt that was as good a place to start as any.
“Sometimes during a moment of intense emotional or mental strain. Other times, during intellectual or physical pursuits,” Harold said.
“It’s a growth in ability, so to speak, after we have experienced something difficult or challenging.
You know—pressure and heat on carbon atoms make diamonds and all that.
The strength of these abilities can then also be influenced and developed by intellect as well as emotional, social, or even philosophical reasoning. ”
“So, I personally got my mark today because I felt some strong emotion while I was teaching a lecture?” She felt silly for simplifying his explanation, but simple was what she needed right now.
Juliette squeezed her arm. “The storm,” she said gently.
Isla nodded, trying not to feel exposed. Juliette was the only one who knew she was afraid of storms, though she hadn’t told her why. She cleared her throat, not liking the feeling of vulnerability as they all studied her.
“So not superhero powers?” Isla asked, trying for a lighter tone to hide her discomfort and break the silent study.
“I wish,” said Juliette.
“No, not superheroes—just part of human nature. It’s a natural progression of growth, if we allow ourselves to grasp it,” Harold added.
A shame, Isla thought. Her friend had posted her a clipping from the American newspaper in 1936 where the Phantom comic strip had made its debut, and she had enjoyed reading it to the children at the orphanage she visited.
Though she would never let her esteemed academic colleagues know that she secretly enjoyed the idea of superheroes and comics.
If only that fun distraction had been around during her childhood.
She looked around the group, wanting to shift the attention from herself. “And what was the name of the one that attacked me again?”
“An Ignis Summoner,” Andrew said. “They can summon shadows, as well as fire.”
Isla felt Juliette stiffen beside her. She looked at her briefly before asking, “So why was I attacked? Are people who use fire and shadow—these Ignis Summoners—evil? That shadow creeping over me certainly felt evil.”
She noticed the shared glance between Harold and Andrew, a flicker of concern passing between them before they both turned to Juliette.
“Juliette?” Harold prompted gently.
“I’ve always feared that they are—or could become—evil,” Juliette said quietly, eyes fixed on her lap, fingers twisting anxiously in her skirt.
Andrew’s voice was softer than Isla had ever heard it. “Juliette is an Ignis Summoner.”
Isla blinked, stunned. Juliette? The kindest, most lighthearted, irrepressibly bubbly person she knew could possess such ... intense, frightening powers?
“I’m so sorry—I didn’t ... I mean, I didn’t know,” Isla stammered.
Juliette finally looked up, meeting Isla’s eyes.
“No, it’s okay. I actually received my abilities younger than most, and I wasn’t ready for them.
” She turned her palm outward—the one furthest from Isla—and in an instant, fire bloomed in her hand, bright and controlled.
Then it vanished into a ribbon of smoke that curled and twisted, forming delicate patterns before fading.
She closed her fist and snuffed the last of it out.
“I have always feared my power, dark and destructive as it is.”
“One need not fear the dark, Juliette,” Harold stated.
“Without the dark, we would not see the moon or the stars. We could not enjoy a cozy evening reading by the fire.” He grinned at her with this comment, and she gave him a small smile in return.
“It is not darkness that is evil; it is how we choose to use the darkness, or what we try to conceal within it.”
Juliette still looked uncomfortable, so Isla tried to steer the conversation away from her dear friend, though she still felt a little shocked at sweet Juliette’s revelation.
“But why was I attacked by someone who chose to use their power for ill intent?”
Harold sighed, looking weary. “Honestly? We don’t know.” He shared a look with Andrew.
“So why am I the last person in this room to know about all of this Aetheric Arts business?”
“Well, studies have shown that most people awaken between sixteen and eighteen, though as Juliette mentioned, she was exceptionally early, so that isn’t always the case,” Andrew replied.
“So I’m late. Am I broken?”
Andrew reached for her hand. She let him hold it, much to her surprise.
“No,” Harold said, meeting her gaze. “I think your tendency to suppress emotions kept your gift dormant. Until today.”
“I do not suppress my emotions.”
Andrew and Juliette both snorted.
Isla yanked her hand back and glared. “I don’t.”
Harold raised a single eyebrow but didn’t say a word. At least he hadn’t snorted in disbelief.
“If people with these abilities are so rare,” Isla said, brows furrowed, “why are we all here? The odds don’t add up.”
Harold nodded slowly. “Although we are the minority, it is not as rare as one might think; furthermore, Osbaldwick University is where the Aetheric Arts department is based.”
“There’s a department here for the Aetheric Arts?” Isla blinked.
“There is,” Harold said, smiling faintly. “Students come to learn how to hone their gifts. It is the only university in England that offers such a program.”
“So only people with these powers can enroll?”
Harold tilted his head from side to side. “Yes ... and no.”
At her look, he continued. “I’m a Ventus Summoner—”
“Hang on a minute,” Isla interrupted. “A what?”
Harold smiled. “A Ventus Summoner.”
“You certainly sound like a superhero,” she muttered.
Harold laughed out loud. “Yes, well, it is an ancient ability, so it sounds impressive.”
Isla smiled at this—the first smile she had managed all night.
“You see, those who can access the Aetheric Arts have the possibility for both physical and philosophical capabilities, which are uniquely attached to each element.”
Isla nodded her understanding and Harold continued. “Those who manage to awaken the basic ability are called Wielders. They can physically control an element that they can see. An element with which they are in close proximity.”
“So an Ignis Wielder could move the fire in the grate over there?” Isla asked, indicating the fireplace whose flames wafted warmth over their group.
“Yes, exactly,” Juliette said. She twirled her hand in an elegant spiral, and the flames in the grate danced to her command.
Harold nodded. “They can wield something that already exists within their sphere, whereas others can do more.”
“More?”
“Yes. More advanced Aetherians are called Summoners. They can not only wield what they can see but can also summon the elements and components associated with it. If it scientifically exists in the world, they can call it to the palm of their hand. Not only that, but they can enhance it. As you become more familiar with this world, you will see that some Aetherians can be quite creative.”
“True, but the name ‘Summoners’ is not a very creative name, if you ask me,” Juliette mumbled.