Aion is the primordial force that binds all worlds, the silent current that existed before time learned to move.
Long before the first stars sparked, before matter chose form, Aion was the continuum—an endless, shimmering tension stretching through the void. It is not a substance, nor a god, nor a spell, though mortals have mistaken it for all three. Aion is the principle of connection, the cosmic instinct that refuses separation. Every world, no matter how distant or strange, vibrates with its resonance.
Chapter 1: "Collected"
Noctis awoke to the sound of light chiming. Raising himself to his elbows and looking around, he found himself lying on a bed of red silk with gold trimming. A windowless room with mahogany walls and a black ceiling greeted him. A desk of dark, unidentifiable wood sat in the corner directly adjacent to the bed; a small table and two chairs occupied the opposite corner, and a door stood next to a large wardrobe.
Noctis pivoted to sit up, resting his feet on the floor while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Where the hell am I?" he mumbled to the empty room.
"WHAT A GREAT QUESTION!" boomed a disembodied voice. "ALL OF YOUR QUESTIONS SHALL BE ANS—SHIT. GREG! HOW DO I TURN DOWN THE VOLUME?"
Noctis slammed his hands over his ears. The level of sound echoing off the walls of the small room was unbearable. Even through his makeshift meat muffs, his ears rang and pulsed with pain.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I SHOULD ALREADY KNOW?! JUST SHOW ME SO I CAN FINIS—h my introduction." The voice's volume suddenly dropped to human speaking levels. "Yes, yes, I see where it is now. It won't happen next time… For Aion's sake, Greg, I get it. Don't talk to me like I'm some new soul. Now go away."
The voice seemed to take a moment to get itself in order before speaking again. In a much more managed volume, it went on. "What a great question. All of your questions shall be answered." With a flash and a pop, a short, heavyset, balding man with thin black wings appeared, floating a foot off the ground in front of Noctis.
His ears still ringing and his left ear leaking a small trickle of blood, Noctis leapt to his feet and shoved at the fat man. Before his hands could make contact, a green light flashed, immediately slamming Noctis back into the wall.
Noctis lay slumped against the base of the wall, a discarded doll in a silk-lined cell. The "pop" of his vertebrae had been louder than the man's voice—a dry, structural snap that still echoed in his skull. He tried to draw a breath, but his lungs felt like heavy, uninflated bags of lead. There was no pain below his neck—that was the horror of it. There was only a terrifying, static-filled silence where his body used to be. He could see his boots resting on the rug, but they felt a thousand miles away, belonging to a stranger. Above him, Beaumont's face was a blurred moon of sweaty indifference.
"Well, that was the second dumbest choice you've ever made," said the fat man. He hovered in place for a moment, taking in Noctis's condition before sighing. "This probably works out for the best; now you have no choice but to listen."
He raised a finger, and a tendril of soft green light attached itself to one of the chairs at the table. He made a small "come here" gesture and the seat rose up, floated across the room, and settled on the ground directly behind him. He flopped into the chair, momentarily distracting himself by trying to smooth out his oversized, threadbare three-piece suit. After what felt like an eternity to Noctis, the man finally looked back and began speaking again.
"Alright, Knockers, listen up." Gesturing at himself, he continued, "My name is Beaumont, but you can call me Bo, since we're going to be working together for a very long time as I am your handler." Waving his hand in Noctis's direction, he added, "As I mentioned before, your current condition is a direct result of your second worst decision. The first one is why we are talking at all. You won't remember it, but you sold your soul to one of our recruiters, otherwise known in your world as..."
Holding his hand to the side, a tablet of crystal design popped into existence. Bo moved through a few menus before snapping his fingers and pointing at Noctis. "Demons! Demons are what you would have called them in your world. Now, I know you don't remember this, considering part of the agreement was that all personal memories would be wiped upon collection—with the exception of your name. Now that your soul has been collected, it's time to put you to work. You have been assigned to the Summons™ division and will continue to work within the division unless promoted out. Do you have any questions so far?"
Noctis sat on the floor, slumped directly below his impact point. With his chin on his chest, unable to move his head, he glared at Beaumont through blurry eyes. Unable to catch his breath, this was all he was capable of.
Chuckling to himself and looking up at the ceiling, Bo ran his hand over his sweaty bald head as if trying to brush back non-existent hair. "I can fix you up right now," Bo said, his voice casual, as if discussing a chipped teacup. "But before I do, I need you to understand a few things."
Noctis couldn't even grit his teeth. He could only stare, his vision swimming with dark spots, drowning in the panic of his own stillness. Each word Beaumont uttered felt like a stone dropped into a deep well—distant and heavy.
"Do you understand all that I've said? Blink twice for a 'yes,' blink a million times for a 'no.'"
With no other choice and unwilling to count a million blinks, Noctis squeezed his eyelids shut twice. They were the only muscles that still obeyed him. The humiliation was a hot coal in his chest, the only warmth left in a freezing, paralyzed world.
"Perfect," Beaumont chirped. He pressed the tips of his fingers together.
The green light didn't just "hit" him; it invaded him. It was an agonizing, reverse-motion of the injury. Noctis let out a choked, ragged sound as his spine knitted back together with the sound of grinding gravel. The icy void in his limbs was violently replaced by a rushing torrent of heat—pins and needles so intense they felt like thousands of hornet stings. His lungs suddenly flared open, drawing in a sharp, desperate lungful of air that burned his throat.
His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. One moment he was a ghost trapped in meat; the next, he was slamming back into his own skin with the force of a high-speed collision. He stayed there for a second, hands trembling, clutching the bedsheets just to feel the texture of the silk. He was whole, but the ghost of the snap still lingered in the back of his neck—a phantom ache that whispered how easily he could be broken again.
He stood up slowly, his legs feeling like liquid, before his 6'6" frame finally steadied. He looked down at the pudgy man, his voice a jagged rasp. "I have questions."
Chapter 2: "Etching"
Noctis stepped out of his room and into a hallway of what appeared to be grown golden crystal. Smooth crystal walls, ceilings, and floors greeted him to his left and right. The hallway had a slight curve, making it impossible to see the end. Doors of polished steel were placed roughly thirty feet apart on the left wall. The right wall held large symbols along the top.
Weird, Noctis thought. I'm fairly sure I came through a wooden door. He would have stepped back to check the other side of the door if it wasn't for Bo floating directly behind him.
"Get out of the way, new soul. We have things to be about," Bo said, making a "move along" gesture. Noctis stepped further into the hall, giving Bo room to step out and join him.
"Alrighty then, this is your door. Take note of your etchings." Gesturing with one hand, Bo indicated a symbol on the door. "This is you. And I mean that literally. This etching is the result of you being born—the mark your soul left on Aion the moment your mother squirted you into reality."
Looking at the "etching," Noctis felt… something. It was like looking into a reflectionless mirror, and it pulled at him, offering a strange sense of comfort. Without realizing it, Noctis had practically pressed his face to the etching. The draw was that strong. He could feel himself diving deeper and deeper into the etching with his mind.
If I could just get a bit clo—
Freezing water sprayed into his face. With a shock, Noctis stumbled away from the door.
"Bad dog," scolded Bo, squirting Noctis in the face three more times with a small squirt gun before Noctis could raise his arm in defense.
"What in the blazing fires was that for?!" Noctis shouted, retreating a few steps down the hall.
Chuckling, Bo tossed the gun over his shoulder, where it turned to glowing green motes that extinguished before hitting the ground. "The first time seeing yourself is always captivating, but I don't have time to sit around while you mentally masturbate. So, I copied some little creep's squirt gun from W332. He fills it with ice water to spray his stepsister in the shower. At least, that's the feeling I got from it. Anyways, let's get moving."
Noctis wiped the water from his face with one hand and held the other up in a "stop" gesture. "Now wait just a damn moment. What in all of the fires just happened to me? I—I was being pulled into that symbol!"
"You weren't physically being pulled in, just mentally. Sort of," Bo said, seesawing his hand back and forth. "You can't actually be drawn into your etching, no more than you can crawl inside your own body. It's you—or at least a physical representation of who you are and your mark on Aion."
Frustrated, Noctis threw his hands in the air. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT ANY OF THAT MEANS! I DON'T KNOW WHAT AION IS, I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT AN ETCHING IS, AND I DON'T KNOW WHY MY 'ETCHING' JUST TRIED TO EAT MY MIND!"
"It didn't try to eat your—you know what, you walk and I'll explain." With that, Bo turned and started floating down the hall. "Come on, Knocky."
Noctis knew he had two choices: go back into his room or follow the little weird flying man and get some answers. He decided to follow; information was better than ignorance. Jogging to catch up, Noctis matched his pace. "Please tell me what's going on."
"Yeah, yeah. Let's start at the root of it: Aion. Aion is everything; it is God without being God. Aion is connection. It connects me, you, your original world, and every other thing that has ever existed and anything that will ever exist. It is the power and driving force—the mechanical workings behind the curtains of the universes. Aion is infinite. Do you follow so far?"
Looking at Bo with a flat stare, Noctis hoped his face could convey his lack of understanding.
Sighing, Bo went on. "Okay, so in its simplest form, Aion is the primordial force that binds all worlds. Without Aion, nothing could exist. We are currently within Aion itself." He held his arms out and spun in a small circle, indicating the walls, floor, and ceiling of the hallway.
"We are in the space between worlds, in the city of Astera, built from copying trillions of connections. Those connections come from worlds throughout existence. These connections are drawn from the smallest electrons of K7762 to the superstructures of i75901. With Aion, everything is connected, and from within Aion itself, we can connect to anything. We can reach out and touch it, as long as we know where to look," Bo said, smirking.
Walking in silence for a few heartbeats, Noctis spoke up. "Are you trying to tell me we're inside of God?"
"Yes and no," answered Bo. "We exist within Aion, and while Aion is everything, it is not sentient. It does not make decisions; it does not act. It only is."
"Alright, let's just assume I believe you. What are these etchings, and why did mine try to eat me?"
Getting visually irritated, Bo answered, "Again, your etching didn't try to eat you."
"Well, it sure felt like it," mumbled Noctis.
"Well, it didn't, and you're an idiot!" shouted Bo. Taking a moment to soothe himself by running his hands over his head, he continued, "Etchings are the language of Aion. Everything has an etching the moment it comes into existence."
Holding his hand out, palm up, Bo summoned a floating etching. The etch itself looked like the outline of a flame to Noctis's eyes. "This is fire—the most common understanding of it acknowledged throughout most existences."
Holding up his other hand, a second etch popped into existence. This one looked like three rippling lines running parallel to each other. "And this is wind."
Stopping to hold his hands closer for Noctis to examine, Bo continued. "Right now, these are just the etchings of wind and fire. They are words on a page, available to read and nothing more. That is because I haven't allowed them to connect to Aion. But once you allow the connection, that's when the magic begins."
Grinning, Bo floated back a step. The etchings began glowing with green intensity before the flame etch turned into a floating globe of fire and the wind etch disappeared, replaced by a light breeze that brushed Noctis's face.
Noctis's eyes lit up at the conversion of power. Stepping forward, he raised his hand as if to touch the flame. A gust of wind slammed into his chest, pushing him back before he could reach it.
"You damn moron, what were you thinking? This is a real flame and will burn you!" yelled Bo, pulling both hands away.
"Yeah… sorry about that," said Noctis, shamefully bowing his head. "Won't do that again."
"Best that you don't," glared Bo. "Moving on: when you allow the etchings to connect to Aion, you draw on everything the etch is connected to. That creates a physical effect."
Nodding in understanding, Noctis questioned, "And you can do this for anything?"
"Again, yes and no. Most advanced things are made of multiple etchings combined. A snowball, for example, would be water and ice. The etching combines to make the whole. If you know the compound etching, you can summon a snowball; if you don't know the compound but know water and ice individually, you can build a snowball with a little bit of will."
Snapping his hands to the side, the fire globe and breeze vanished. Bringing his hand back to the same position, two new etchings floated there: a snowflake and a water drop.
"Now observe." Bo pushed his hands together, melting the symbols into a new compound etch—the snowflake layered over the water drop. "Now that we have a compound etch, we can let the connection form." A snowball appeared in his hands. He held it up and said, "Ta-da."
"That is absolutely incredible!" exclaimed Noctis. "Will I have the ability to use etchings?"
"Yes, we teach all new souls how to etch to make them more useful in their jobs. At least the basics. It's up to you to learn more."
"My job… you mentioned this before. I'm a Summon™? What does that mean?"
"I'll explain that later. First, your etching is you, just like the flame etch was fire. But there is one major difference: you have a soul. You are unique; there is only one of you in all of existence. That's why you felt drawn in. You weren't looking at a copy; you were looking into your unfiltered soul. The first time creates a paradox that your brain can't comprehend. There's nothing dangerous about it; if I wasn't there, you would have stood in a trance for a couple of hours. After the first time, the effect is greatly reduced."
Noctis pondered this. "I think I understand. So, what's next?"
Smiling evilly, Bo turned to the wall and touched an etching. Glowing lines raced up the wall, forming the outline of a door. Bo turned back. "Now, my sweet little starfish, we turn your soul etching into a compound etching. Come along." Bo stepped through the door that had formed in the wall.