The black sword resting in Eldric's left hand hummed softly before disappearing moments later. It seemed that those few seconds were all his Ether could muster. Just how powerful could a weapon that drained that much Ether be? The mere prospect of its untold strength thrilled him.
Eldric dismissed the black hilt, the chair beneath him squeaking as he swayed. Corvyn paced slowly before him, wearing a contemplative expression that only enhanced his already immaculate features. Most women would swoon at the sight of the handsome Sigiled's thoughtful face.
The faint orange flame flickered across the room, sending shadows into an erratic dance. The Sigiled major came to a halt, turning to Eldric. "First things first. What do you already know about the Sigiled—what being one entails, more precisely?"
Eldric scratched the back of his head. "I know that they're humanity's exalted champions, protecting it from the horrors of the Aghorath." He paused, thinking. "I also know that they have access to Ether, allowing them to use a set of abilities unique to each Sigiled—er, Stigmas… or something."
Corvyn nodded, seemingly satisfied. "You have a general understanding, I see…"
The two had agreed that in return for Eldric sharing the information he'd found on the worn parchment, the Sigiled major would answer his questions about the Sigiled. Corvyn had seemed surprised by the offer at first, but ultimately accepted without hesitation.
The handsome man laughed. "Still, if that's all you know… it's truly astounding you managed to make it here on your own."
Eldric scoffed inwardly. 'More like ridiculously lucky. I literally got snapped out of existence on the way here…'
Corvyn took a deep breath, resting his hands on his hips before speaking. "Alright then, pay attention—I'll only say this once."
Eldric nodded, straightening his posture on the wooden chair.
"It's true that the Sigiled are unique among humans, but not due to their supernatural abilities or strength. All humans possess a dormant pulse of Ether flowing along their bloodstream. Some can even manipulate it, becoming something superior to a mundane, though not as potent as a Sigiled. Theoretically, some of these individuals might awaken unique powers of their own, though this has yet to occur."
Corvyn paused for a breath before continuing.
"What distinguishes the Sigiled is their inherent connection to the world itself—or whatever higher power bestows the Sigil upon us."
Eldric frowned. It didn't quite make sense. Apparently, you didn't need to be a Sigiled to use Ether. All living beings had it, and some humans could even control it. He already knew as much from the nature of his Stigmata, "Nihilic Veil". The more potent a creature's Ether, the harder it was for him to pass through. He'd guessed the difference between normal people and the Sigiled was that the latter could control and guide the mystical energy through their veins, while the former could not.
But his theory had been wrong. What set them apart wasn't magical energy or mystical power—it was a connection to the world itself.
"What do you mean? Does this bond increase one's inherent powers?"
Corvyn gave an unsure nod. "Technically no… but also yes."
Eldric blinked.
"The bond itself doesn't do much," Corvyn continued, "yet it's through this connection that the world becomes our patron, marking our hearts.
Each Sigiled has a unique Stigma, etched into the cardiac muscle itself. The Stigma expresses the nature of one's abilities, but it also allows the world to gift you with new ones—to aid you on your journey to power."
Eldric scratched his head. "Aid us?"
Corvyn nodded. "In the form of Stigmata, Insignias, and even epithets. Though not everyone is lucky enough to be bestowed with one."
The boy's expression grew more confused. "And what does each of those do? I have a slight idea, but if you could shed more light, I'd appreciate it."
He knew Stigmata were actual abilities—manifestations of his Stigma. Insignias were less clear, but from what Eldric could tell, they were summonable objects powered by Ether. So far, he had two: the Grimoire of Void and the sword he'd just obtained.
Epithets were even more mysterious. From what he'd gathered, one earned them by performing impossible feats—glorified nicknames, though perhaps not without deeper meaning.
Corvyn nodded. "Right…"
Seemingly tired of standing, he approached the table and outstretched his hand, summoning a comfortable-looking chair—far more so than Eldric's own.
'Is that an Insignia too?'
But something strange caught Eldric's attention again. A soft, melodious hum filled the air as the chair beautifully formed itself out of nothing. It was serene, almost somber—unlike when he summoned his own Insignias, which was violent and chaotic.
"That too," he said, pointing to the chair.
"Excuse me?" Corvyn tilted his head.
"Whenever I summon an Insignia, reality warps and deforms. But when you do it, a melody plays instead. Why is that?"
Corvyn smiled. "Good observation."
He leaned back, arms crossed. "It has to do with the type and class of one's Stigma. Yours seems tied to the void itself, while mine revolves around sound and song. So the physical manifestation of our Ether changes depending on the core element of our Stigmas."
For the first time since the conversation began, Eldric began to understand. But one thing still nagged at him. "Physical manifestation?"
Corvyn sighed. "Don't worry about that—it's irrelevant to you as an Acolyte. You'll come to understand if you were to become a Herald. Just know it happens when you pour your Ether outward into the world instead of pooling it inward."
He waved the topic away. "Anyway, we're getting off track."
Corvyn drew another breath. "Where were we…? Right—A Stigmata is an extension of your Stigma. It's a specific ability, engraved again upon your heart, that allows you to instantaneously use a certain aspect of your Stigma at the cost of Ether.
For example, if your Stigma controlled flames, you might have a Stigmata that summons the fire itself, another that propels it outward, and another that dispels it. Of course, that's just a simplified example—most aren't so direct or limited. In truth, all of that would likely fall under one Stigmata."
Eldric nodded. "That makes sense… What about the others?"
Corvyn leaned forward. "Let's see... Insignias are more vague. They're usually items summoned through Ether. This can include armor, weapons, enchanted charms and amulets. But they can also be mundane things, like food and water, which are actually the most sought after. Then there are runic Insignias…"
Eldric perked up at the sound of it. Runic Insignia did have a cool ring to it, and Corvyn had mentioned it at the sight of his newly obtained sword.
Corvyn paused, thoughtful. "Those… even I don't have clearance to know much about them. I only know they leave a physical mark on the body—and that they're highly coveted."
He cast a glance at Eldric's wrist, the skin still singed of a searing, throbbing pain.
The handsome man stretched in his chair before continuing. "Last—but certainly not least—the epithets.
"They're names or descriptions bestowed upon the Sigiled by the world for completing great tasks. The lesser ones are superficial, mere titles or badges of honor. But the greater ones grant special attributes—powers usable in and out of battle. Some even bind their holders to certain codes of conduct."
He smiled slightly—just before Eldric heard the voice of the world echo in his mind:
"You stand before Corvyn, the Stubborn."
After the voice faded, Corvyn resumed. "You can also announce yourself to other Sigiled if you possess an epithet. How the world declares you is quite telling of the deed you performed to earn it."
Eldric raised an eyebrow. "Announce my presence?"
He didn't really understand, but tried anyway—focusing on the man before him, he pictured himself proclaiming, 'I am Eldric, the Pale!'
…
Yeah, he definitely wasn't going to do that again.
Corvyn nodded. "Yes, but it will only work if—"
His eyes widened suddenly in horror. He stared at the boy in shock.
Alarmed, Eldric asked, "What happened?"
Corvyn let out a strange laugh. "Nothing… It seems that I stand within the sovereignty of Eldric, the Pale."