Chương 9: An Empty Receptacle

Cuthbert cawed again. Aaron had heard crows plenty of times before, but there was something off about his one—a shakiness to his voice. It made him worry. Aaron's heart sank as he looked at the pile of feathers at the bottom of the cage. Cuthbert's once vibrant plume was patchy and had lost its healthy looking sheen. He exchanged a glance with Tim. Was he getting worse? Neither of them voiced the thought.

Cuthbert was sitting on a perch, half-way up a large hastily assembled wooden enclosure, staring at Aaron and Tim through one beady black eye. They'd purchased the spacious enclosure at the exotic market for far more than Aaron had wanted to spend. A circle of pine sat at the base with several thin, unevenly spaced wooden bars reaching upwards, reinforced with small offcuts of wood wedged between them at various intervals. A similar pine circular piece of wood acted as the roof.

A birch tree branch was wedged diagonally across the cage from roof to floor. There were several smaller sticks branching off its side which made perfect perches for a bird. Tim had insisted that the typical chicken coop wasn't good enough, and seeing it now, Aaron had to admit he'd been right. Cuthbert was happy in this one. Maybe it was his new True Sight ability, or something to do with restarting his heart, but whatever it was, he felt a deep magical connection to the crow.

He couldn't quite put his finger on the sensation but it was incredible what he was feeling. He could sense the crow's tired body trying to recover and could somehow tell he was pleased to see them. He knew crows were smart, but had never realised they could have such complex emotions. Peering through the bars, Aaron inspected the bird. Tim looked equally as interested beside him.

"I hope he's ok," Tim said quietly, "I think he's losing his feathers because of the damage to his soul. It would make sense that it can't repair properly with half his spirit missing. It should stop soon. At least I hope it will." Aaron's stomach knotted.

"Do you think he'll survive?"

"Well I don't know if he's alive anymore. At least not alive as we know it. It's far beyond anything I've ever read in a book. You're the Spirit Healing expert. What do you think?"

"I've never had to heal someone with missing parts of their spirit. It's unheard of. And what do you mean he's not fully alive? He looks alive to me." Tim smiled sadly and sighed.

"We define being alive as having a soul, right? Even the ground is alive, because Althea's soul lives in it."

"Yes, I know that," Aaron interrupted, "but Cuthbert still has part of his soul. And I'm going to find a way to restore the rest of it." Tim patted Aaron on the back.

"I'm sure you will. If anyone can do it, it's you. All I'm saying is that I don't know what to think of him with half his soul. I've never heard or read anything about it."

"But he acts so alive. He eats, sleeps and flies. He does everything an alive animal would do." As far as Aaron was concerned, he was still a living creature and he would treat him as one. With some practice, he knew he'd be able to control his power better and preserve the entire soul next time he healed someone. Part of him felt excited to see what happened if he pushed his power the other way and healed something without a soul.

He knew Necromancers were capable of making undead thralls and he desperately wanted to explore his abilities. But he buried the thoughts deep in his mind. He'd been warned about using his powers and creating undead in the city was begging for trouble.

"Maybe it's because he wasn't dead for long before you resurrected him and only a small portion of his soul crossed over. But I agree, some soul might be missing, but he still looks alive. We won't give up on him." Tim put his hand on Aaron's shoulder and smiled softly.

"Maybe if I was quicker at restarting the heart, this wouldn't have happened. It's because I'm a novice again and every spell feels so weak and difficult. I'll be stronger and more practiced next time. Are you sure you haven't read anything helpful?" Tim's eyes widened as if suddenly remembering something.

"Yes! I have!" He exclaimed. He shuffled back over to the table and leant over one of the many open books. The dining table was completely full of chaotically placed books and scrolls. The page ruffled under Tim's finger as he traced the lines.

"Ectomacy: the power of externalising one's spirit and the spirit of others." Tim read the class summary then skipped down the page a few lines.

"Trained gifted may externalise their spirit from their body and travel afar and observe the world. Powerful users have been known to interact with the world around their spirit and even possess other creatures."

"It's an interesting power, but what does it have to do with Cuthbert?" Aaron asked"Aha," Tim exclaimed, ignoring Aaron's question, "Some Ectomancers have the ability to produce synthetic souls and implant them into soulless receptacles giving them the sentience and completeness of a living creature." Aaron's chest simmered with excitement. It wasn't quite perfect, but it might be exactly what they needed.

"But Cuthbert isn't a soulless receptacle. He's just missing a bit of his spirit. Does it say anything about repairing souls?"

"No," replied Tim, looking up at Aaron with the candlelight reflecting in his eyes.

"I've spent hours checking and there's no mention of it."

"In Spirit Healing, imbalance causes cracks in souls. We rebalance it and it fills itself in. Maybe we can use a synthetic spirit like a bandage to bridge the gap and allow the spirit to naturally heal over." Tim furrowed his brow.

"I don't know Aaron. We don't even know if we can put a synthetic spirit in him."

"But if we could, do you think it might work?" Tim scratched his chin.

"Sure, but that's a lot of hypotheticals. We don't know enough to go experimenting without risking doing more damage. I thought an ability tome might help, but I couldn't even find the skill tome for Manipulate in the library."

"Wait, you went to the Sacred Library already? How can Manipulate be missing? That's impossible."

"Well not technically impossible," Tim corrected. He waggled a finger in the air condescendingly, but Aaron knew he didn't mean to be patronising.

"The banished god Mnemo's soul is imprisoned there and he fills the library with his knowledge. It's also his power that binds tomes to the gifted allowing them to track and influence their power as it grows. We always thought that he wanted us to know and experience as much as possible; that's why he got banished after all. What if there's some magic he doesn't know about, or doesn't want us to learn about?"

"But there are stories. Legends. We grew up fearing the Necromancer in the forest, lurking at night." This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Yes, but he can't kill a legend, even if he is a god. What he can do, in theory of course, is remove information in the library that he has control over."

"Ok, sure, but why would he do that?" Tim shrugged.

"Who knows? Fear? Maybe he struck a deal with a mortal." Aaron scoffed. It was ridiculous that a god could be afraid of magic, even if it was as terrifying as Necromancy.

"Maybe Master Addison is right to warn me about Necromancy. I won't be showing off in public. At least not until we figure out what's going on." Tim nodded.

"I think that's smart." Aaron refocused on the most important problem. They needed to help Cuthbert before his body degenerated any further.

"So we need to find an Ectomancer and hope they can create something to fill the missing part of Cuthbert's soul?"

"Theoretically… yes. But it's a lot easier said than done. I have never even heard of an Ectomancer before, let alone met one." Tim said. Aaron's heart sank, yet again. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

"Me neither, I think we should go to the gifted festival. It's in two lunar cycles and our best shot of meeting someone with unusual magic." Tim scratched the side of his eyebrow.

"Hmmm, and how are we going to afford that? The entry price is fifty silver. That's a whole month of wages." Aaron knew that the festival was entirely unaffordable. And they had almost nothing to their name; Aaron had spent it all on the reagents for the de-cursing ritual. It was a shame because he had always wanted to go. He'd heard stories from the other healers about the incredible powers they'd witnessed there. Maybe he'd even meet a Necromancer. There were so many good reasons to go.

He was exhausted and frustrated from the lack of solutions. It had been a long day and he had a lot to ponder over. He and Tim agreed to retire for the night and went to their respective bedrooms. Aaron slumped onto the bed, on top of the covers and wedged his back up with a couple pillows until he was semi-upright. Placed on a small shelf on the wall, the candle trickled light around the room. It was just about bright enough for him to study his tome some more. He was worried about Tim.

They'd never really spoken about his curse since the night of the ritual and he didn't really know how Tim was feeling. Aaron hated how Tim hid his feelings from him, it made it really difficult to support him properly. He at least wanted to know how the curse felt and if the ritual had made a difference, but asking would mean confronting his failure. Years of work… gone. Just like that. He had to train again and get stronger. He'd been warned by Master Addison that there were people out there hunting his kind.

But he wouldn't let that stop him. It all sounded like a bit of a conspiracy anyways. Tim needed him. He grabbed his tome and flicked to the contents page. Aaron read down the list until he found a chapter titled Coalescence and Strengthening the Spirit. He turned to the page. Spirit coalescence was the main way he leveled up to become a Journeyman healer. It was time to remind himself how it worked and see if there was a faster way to train.

Spirit Coalescence The source of a Gifted's power stems from the strength of their spirit. One's spirit has properties unique to the class of gifted. They can draw on the mana contained in their soul to perform specific feats of magic. The spirit can be bolstered in a number of ways, the primary method being spirit coalescence. The dim candlelight was barely enough to illuminate the words on the page, but it was just about possible with a bit of focus.

The soul not only consists of properties of a magical class, but is finely attuned to and ingrained in the motivations and values of the individual gifted. It is at its strongest when there is alignment between the gifted, their internal moral and spiritual code and the inherent principles of their class, for example: Warders protect the weak. Healers help the sick. Spiritforgers vanquish evil. Aaron frowned at the page. What's aligned with necromancy? Creating abominations and seeding corruption.

There must be a way that's less… evil. He continued to skim though until the page spoke more about the act of Spirit Coalescence When a Gifted performs a feat aligning the above, the spirit draws on ambient magic surrounding them and combines it into the soul, increasing its maximum potential mana. As the soul increases in raw power, it allows the gifted to invest their strength into learning new powers, improving existing ones and improving the general power of their soul from novice through to master and beyond.

This process is guided by a talent tree in the tomes. He spirit coalesced when he used Manipulate to protect himself from the thief. Perhaps challenging and strengthening his abilities was a good place to start. When he had coalesced enough mana as a healer, he was able to divert the power into specific skills—the gray boxes from his tome, or the talents as it was called here. That's how he got five ranks in the ritual of de-cursing and progressed to Journeyman.

He flicked through the book back to the Manipulate page and skimmed through to see if there were any changes. The tomes of the gifted were attuned to their souls and reflected their power, abilities and proficiency. They moulded and adapted to perfectly encapsulate the mage. Not only were the abilities written on the pages, but Aaron could sense it whenever they became more powerful, just like when he healed Cuthbert. The power was in his soul, but the book gave him a convenient way to quantify and track it.

The Manipulate page looked pretty much the same as before, but now said Level 2. Aaron noticed a faint yellow shimmer behind the text, like distant stars. Every so often, some of the words would blur in and out of focus as if they were trying to change. It meant he was close to another level up. The more progress the better! The amount of information was overwhelming. Evolved class, new abilities, mysterious lack of knowledge in the library and the flashback from the coin.

Aaron's thoughts churned in his head, like grinding gears. He pulled the coin out of his pocket and looked at it. It was unusually big, about the width of his thumb. A simple outline of a five pointed sun sat in the centre. The points protruded right to the edge of the coin. The pattern was rough and worn with small chips in some areas; it must have been old. It looked gritty and dirty and a mixture between silver and brown in some areas where a fine patina had developed.

Clasping his hand around the coin, he looked back up towards the wall and sighed. He thought about his brother's illness. Tim had pushed himself too hard today. It was painful to see Tim limping around with deep bags under his eyes. He was desperate for the day where he could enjoy a walk outside with Tim without him being in pain. He'd come so close to a cure already. He finally had a glimmer of hope to hold onto and he wasn't going to squander it. Aaron thought about the nobleman from this morning.

He was so vivid in his vision, whilst everyone else was faded and muffled. Perhaps he could have another vision and figure out why. Maybe he'd even level the skill up a bit if he tried. He blew out the candle with a quick and firm puff, the room plunged into blackness. Aaron sat back up on the bed, holding the coin in his hand and pictured the nobleman from this morning. Reimagining how it felt in his vision, he closed his eyes and focused, trying his best to clear his mind of distractions.

It was really difficult to focus with everything going on in his mind. The sounds around him seemed to get louder the more he tried to ignore them. He channeled his modified True Sight ability to learn more about the coin's origin and why he could see its owner so clearly. Subtle blurs of light began to form around his periphery as he kept his eyes tightly closed. He felt wind blow over his exposed arm, yet the sensation was dulled and diffuse, like it was in a dream.

He was somewhere else, like earlier, but the connection was faded and weaker. Everything was blurry and muffled; he couldn't make out any of his surroundings. But he could feel emotion around him. Not the emotion of the coin, but in the aura around it. He was sending the world from the view of the coin. When or where was unknown, but he felt cold. How could a coin feel cold? He could sense the aura of the land around it. The air was filled with sadness and longing, like it was grieving.

It was painful to experience. Loathed to feel the sensation any longer, Aaron shuddered and opened his eyes, bringing him back into his dark room. He was baffled at how a coin could keep such an imprint of its past. He had never been able to feel emotion with his True Sight before, let alone from a coin. It was absurd. But nonetheless, the sensation was unmistakable. It was death.