After a unison of mysterious voices invited him to meet in the conscious realm, August's mind was in disarray.
Simply by thinking about the fact that there were only mages with a core element who possessed a domain he felt inferior.
For a moment trying to guess the identity of the strange voices, he thought of them as a primordial entity trying to make fun of him.
Like without possessing a core element how was he supposed to enter the conscious realm?
'Not like the conscious realm is a public place where people can enter and exit as they pleased'
Not to mention ambivalence like him weren't supposed to be thinking about the damn place. What good if you keep dreaming about the place you could never enter. For some reason though the thought of the conscious realm was becoming somewhat of an obsession to him.
Not suddenly though, it felt the obsession was already present deep within his heart and now it was merely represented by his will to visit the conscious realm.
'Not like the conscious realm is a place anyone can enter. Right?'
"Yes it is" his mother said, opposing all of his thoughts and conjectures he had built till now, "anyone can enter the conscious realm if they concentrate enough"
August had thought of asking his mother about the issue. Because she was an excellent high grade mage and a teacher after all. She should probably have the answers he required. And it turned out he was right.
"Is that so?" he asked in surprise, "then why haven't I been informed about that?"
"...because" his mother said almost quickly as he finished the sentence, "these are the concepts children are taught in the classes. For god's sake, who was the one to refuse regular classes in the first place?"
He remained silent because there was absolutely no one else to blame here but himself. So trying to avoid getting scolded he changed the topic,
"It might be dangerous to go there isn't it?"
"No, it isn't," his mother replied again, breaking his self-created chain of thoughts, she lingered for a bit and then spoke, "...maybe for people with a ridiculously powerful core element? Or maybe not. The place isn't that dangerous to most people in general."
She turned and stared towards him in indignance,
"Why are you suddenly asking me all this?"
August let out a long sigh knowing he couldn't avoid the question now,
"Uh… it's nothing much" he replied, trying to think about some excuse, then suddenly it clicked in his mind, "Father has told me to sharpen my swordskills so I was thinking if only I could learn how to enter the conscious realm it could be a more efficient approach."
"That …could actually work" his mother replied, "Since there aren't any limitations to bind you down in the conscious realm. And you could also keep yourself free of any harm while training there. Why haven't I thought of it before?"
August never thought this excuse of his might actually work but surprisingly he was able to convince his mother. He was celebrating inside then his mother said, her expressions turning somber,
"Has your father told you already that he's leaving?"
August's expression also turned a bit sad, "he has" after a moment he said in a complaining tone, "why does he have to leave anyway?"
"It's important,"his mother replied, patting his hair gently.
"I know," he said in a low voice,
"It's always been that way."
August never wanted to ask something his parents were keeping from him knowingly. He never also complained. But there was a feeling of being left out as well. On one hand he respected the importance of secrets his family kept from him and on the other hand he also wanted to know about their pasts and what was so important they were hiding in memories of it.
Even after that he never asked his parents directly about the matter. Nor did he expect to tell him the whole truth anytime soon. He for once thought maybe they'll never share that secret with him. Which also served him well honestly because he wanted to keep living his life of peace.
As though sensing his uneasiness his mother took him in her gentle embrace,
"I promise son, I'll tell you about every important work of your father when it's the right time. Till then take care of yourself properly and haven't your father told you to protect the town's people?"
He replied with a surprised look, "wait? How did you know?"
At his words his mother let out a chuckle, "...I figured when you said he told you to sharpen your swordskills. Oh my, but it's too much of a burden of responsibility on a child for your age so I'll help you too. Is that okay?"
"Nope! It's not" he said almost immediately, causing his mother to act surprised a little, "because father had asked me to protect you too."
"Oh Gods!" his mother gave him an amused look, "then it's double the burden. You know I'm strong so you have to become stronger than me at least in order to protect me."
"I know that already" he replied puffing up his chest, "and I will become strong. Even stronger than dad."
"Oh really," his mother said, "then do your best, my little warrior."
"I will"
His mother hugged him again, melting in her motherly embrace. Then suddenly her voice sounded a bit somber, "tell me one thing. Had any headaches lately?"
The question surely made him uncomfortable, not because the pain he had to constantly suffer within the effect of echoes but with the thought of answering this question to his mother. His heart ached always when he had to lie about his condition to his mother.
But not like he could do anything about it. If keeping this secret could make some of her worries go away then he'll gladly lie to her, forever. He hugged her back and tried to sound as lively as he could, fearing his mother might catch his lie,
"I'm fine mom. Really."
After a moment of uneasy silence, his mother finally spoke,
"Alright. If you say so, but don't hesitate to tell me if you do."
August was surprised, his mom's motherly instincts were on point. Even then he couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth and decided to seek salvation in the lies for now.
— — —
"Close your eyes and try to feel your connection with the universe"
Early in the morning before the chirping of birds August relaxed his body and started to concentrate solely on his breathing as instructed by his mother.
"Every living being in the universe exudes a particular essence. A distinct feature that brands the existence of one on the fabric of reality. Something exclusive to only an individual being that no one can copy or imitate."
August inhaled slowly and deeply,
"It's something that has no name, no smell akin to a feeling which only you and you could find about yourself. It could be your most dominant emotion like joy, sadness, anger, resentment, something people find more different about you."
August exhaled keeping the pace steady,
"It could be one of your habits that you like about yourself, or hate. It could be any object that you love dearly, or it could very well be a person who plays a quite important part in your life. It could be a form or may be something formless."
August repeated the cycle of breathing steadily,
"It could be anything that comes to your mind, think about that and another if it doesn't work. Keep repeating the process until you feel the barrier between imagination and reality disappear from within your mind."
His mother stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder,
"That thing which would help you overcome the threshold between two alternate realms, that would serve as your tether for the rest of your life."
August tried to imagine every possible thing that could serve as a connection that could bind him to the other realm. Yet he felt like nothing was happening. He was still with no progress to speak of.
Putting pressure on his mind, he tried to think, forcefully gritting his teeth.
"Stop!" his mother said something like an order. As he let go of his stubbornness of excelling the conscious realm in one day, he felt a warm liquid dripping down from his lower mouth. Only now he realized his gums were bleeding as a result of gritting teeth subconsciously.
"Tch! Tch!" his mother cliqued her tongue wiping the bloodstain off his face, "exactly that happens when you put too much pressure on yourself. The process of gradually making yourself familiar with the inner realm is a slow one. So, don't ever try to rush it."
Her brows knitted together in a frown,
"I won't teach you something that comes at the cost of hurting yourself, is that right?"
August understood the possessiveness in his mother's warning and took the concept to heart that finding one's essence in this great forest of universe is like finding a needle in a haystack— to overcome which, one must remain diligent and make progress slowly. Some things could never be rushed.
— — —
"Move!"
August did as he was instructed by his father, running his sharp sword against a rock hard as steel. He struck the blade down with full force aiming to cut the rock twice his size into pieces. However, the result varied greatly.
The metal blade of the longsword immediately shattered as it touched the hard surface of the rock leaving behind a scar on its stone skin, only to serve as an evidence of his first failure.
"Again!"
His father shouted, making August obey his command solely by the intensity of his voice. August picked another sword from a box in which many of the swords lay, waiting patiently for their turn not knowing if they would meet success or would become another witness to failure.
"A warrior who has no control over his weapon is nothing but a mere slave. There's no one more pathetic in the world who lets others control his way of life."
Strike…another blade shattered. Sending its bits and pieces into the air.
"Similarly, a warrior driven by wrath and bloodfrenzy is nothing more than a murderer who could no longer differentiate between the guilty and the innocent."
Strike… the blade touched the rock without breaking into pieces but again failed to deliver the damage. Or to say failed to serve its purpose.
"You have to know what you are fighting for. What is at stake here. And what is that you must protect with your life."
Strike, Strike and Another strike… blow after blow as his blade was meeting the hard rock, August was also meeting with a familiar feeling called failure.
He failed again and again. He struck, he wounded himself. Sometimes the sharp pieces of shattered blades would fall straight into his hands making the already bleeding cuts in his hands deeper and deeper.
"You have to know what you wield a weapon for. You have to know what purpose does the sword in your hand serve. Is that something you wield for destruction? Is that something you wield because the person standing in front of you isn't worthy of living? Is that something you have to do for personal gain?
Is it revenge?
Greed?
Bravery?
Strength?
Protection?
Before raising your sword against a person, monster or anyone you intend to fight, you have to question yourself.
Why do you want to do what you're doing?
What do you intend to gain from this?
Why do you want to take a life in the first place?
Even if it is for some selfish reason, you have to make it clear. Clear to yourself. Because only when you know the reason clearly, your heart will accept it and will not betray you in the face of battle. Therefore your sword will not waver, will not sway its path and definitely will not take unnecessary lives.
The reason is simple, you have to be clear about your purpose because people intend to forget that it's your own life that too would be at stake."
— — — — —