So, this has been on my dA for far too long now, and it's time I brought it to BaltoSource!
Basically, I've so far given up on my project Anayu Caelestis (66 pages!), which can be read in my Scaprs gallery at
http://ultimawolflux.deviantart.com .
That said, it's time I introduced
you to it!
P.S: This is a semi-commercial product, which means that you will only be able to read the story for free, while you receive all the extras by purchasing the finished product.
Extra content (this is what you get by purchasing the finished product):(1) Detailed character biographies for absolutely EVERY major character in the novel.
(2) Detailed description of the world portrayed in the story, detailing the mechanics of technology, different powers and how different elements balance out each other.
(3) A shorter novel called
The Creator's Son, telling the story of a 'young' boy who's role was to monitor the Earth and to protect it from danger.
Story: In an alternate world, identical to ours, there is a place called "The Archivum", which is an ancient, highly technological library that stretches across the entire European continent, hundreds of miles below the ground. This library was created as the world came into existence, to store data about the planet's state, activities and its inhabitants.
This library has a sentience of its own, and it created a special type of living beings that wielded the powers of the Earth's natural elements: Fire, Earth, Air, Water and Lightning. At first, these creatures resembled early animals, but as the millenia passed by, these "Arcanists" transformed into a humanoid race. It was at this time these Arcanists began to split; many of them discovered that their elemental abilities had diminished and given them a new power: Shapeshifting. As these shapeshifters developed their powers, they were increasingly shunned by other Arcanists, that still wielded their ancient power.
The shapeshifters soon discovered that their ability to shapeshift was, sadly, limited. They found that they were stuck with the form they originally had, but that in return, they could transform every part of their body individually, as well and completely turning into their beast form.
Eventually, the group split into two and the Shapeshifters left the Archivum in search of a place they could call home. They travelled for hundreds of years until they eventually discovered an encampment of humans. At first, they were wary of the humans, but they eventually realised that they were not Arcanists.
On their own end, the Shapeshifters had turned into humans themselves, thus they were able to blend in and reproduce with them. Over time, the ability to shapeshift became wide-spread, and continued to develop into modern age.
On the Arcanists' end, they too were eventually forced to leave the Archivum and blend in with the humans. The reason for this was to protect the Archivum from discovery, as the humans, being a vigilant and explorative race, travelled much and intentionally set out to discover new things.
Recently, in modern time, a war has been started between the Shapeshifters and the Arcanists. Its origin is unknown, but as the lunar eclipse draws near, which is weakening to the Shapeshifters, the former are in desperate need of a sanctuary. Meanwhile, the Arcanists themselves may be threatened more than they might think.
Artwork: UK - Ban Cat was kind enough to make a beautiful gift art (she will receive a free copy of the finished e-book and possibly hardcover, if I can do them), showing one of the characters, Katherine, in her animal form. You may see it here:
http://whitewolf16.deviantart.com/art/L ... -115418639If you want to draw a scene, character, or whatever from the story, feel free to do so! Also, be sure to send me a PM here with a link to it so I may add it to this topic =)
All fan art is highly appreciated and it will be mentioned in the Writer's Comments section, which I will include before the first chapter in the finished product.
Additionally, I will pick up to 10 random artists that draw something taken from my story and send them a free copy of the finished e-book (including the extras).
Go here for a full overview of each chapter (neatly organized) from oldest to newest: http://ultimawolflux.deviantart.com/gallery/#Luna-SolOn a side note, [SPOILER - you may want to read the chapter first]
Hidden text : click to show
the character Jonathan introduced in chapter 2 is not the Jonathan you "met" in chapter 1. There are two characters called Jonathan in this story (which makes sense anyway, as common names are exactly that - common. There's always someone else named like you)
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Chapter 1
The clouds were encasing the light of the moon, letting only one, immense beam of it escape. This light fell upon London, bathing the city and its residents in cold, blue silence. There were few people outside in the chill air that autumn evening. Only a small group of people in the park, the odd person passing by a windows up-town, and similar incidents. But there were whispering voices from a back-alley.
“Kenneth!” a hissing voice uttered – although it was more of a whisper. Nobody could be seen, but they were heard. The only ones in the alley were a couple of cats. One of them were scavenging a trash can. It turned its head.
“Yes?” another voice whispered back.
“Get over here! This isn't a time to be playing around.” the hissing voice said in response. It was a female voice, typical and thick british accent, and slightly hysterical.
“But I'm hungry!” complained the other.
“The moon is on its full! Do you really want us to be discovered?!”
The cat in the trashcan backed out of it entirely – it was a grey tabby with black stripes on its back. The other one – that stood by a lit and open window, was orange. Pure-bred, by the looks of it.
“Fine!” the male voice said. “But I'll blame you if I die of starvation!”
The male voice had a lesser accent than the female and sounded a bit more sniveling.
The grey tabby walked over to the orange pure-bred and they both jumped through the window. Moments later, a hand closed it.
“Finally decided to join the meetin', eh?” a man's voice asked. He was tall, perhaps seven foot tall, with untrimmed beard and black, greasy hair. He wore baggy pants and a crumpled old T-shirt with the motivator 'Owned, fuckers!' written on it. There were a bunch of other people in the room – which was ovally shaped and painted in a terrible shade of pink and only one window – including a small girl, perhaps about seven years of age, an aged woman ('She must be a museum-object!' the orange pure-bred thought) and an adolescent boy. The boy seemed rather feral, with sharp corner teeth and a cat-ish gleam in his eye.
“Yes... some of us had to stall the session a bit.” the pure-bred said. Within moments, where the pure-bred had been sitting stood now a woman in her twenties, long and orange - although very curly hair, yellow eyes, wearing a long, sleek, orange, formal dress with shoes and a handbag to match. She glared at the tabby, whom lowered his head. Almost instantaneously, in the tabby's place stood an adolescent boy with brown, ruffled hair, a flatcap on his head (very typical for messenger boys), a grey scarf around his neck, leaving one end of it hanging to the back of his knees behind him. He wore dark-grey pants with shoes to match and a light-grey cloth-jacket of indeterminable type. He had blue eyes.
“Sorry...” he mumbled.
“Hopefully, this will have taught you something, Kenneth. This is too important to ignore and fumble away!” the woman said sternly.
“Cut the boy some slack, Katherine...” the little girl said, correcting the way her blonde, sleek hair hung in front of her face. Her eyes were almost owl-like; they were wide and round, making her look constantly nervous. She had a typical tom-girl look to her clothing (very boy-like clothes). “He's a newcomer despite all...”
The woman in orange, Katherine, scoffed.
“Regardless, he should have known better.”
Kenneth remained silent.
The bearded man with the greasy hair knocked on the table.
“Alright, personal issues aside, may the meeting begin?” he asked when the crowd had calmed down.
When he was met with no answer, he nodded contently.
“Tonight marks the first day of of seven, warning us of the incoming lunar eclipse. We all know what that means, yes?”
The crowd mumbled gravely.
“Quite right. Our powers vane – we cannot fend for ourselves. That is why I called you all here tonight. We must harvest the energy until the eclipse is here and ride it out.”
The adolescent boy with the feral characteristics spoke.
“And how exactly are we supposed to collect 'energy'?” he asked. “After all, we cannot touch it.”
“Jonathan, we all know you are young. Do not make yourself more ignorant than you already are.” the man called. “We collect the moon's energy as easily as we we would collect food in our mouths.”
Jonathan arched an eyebrow. “So we basically walk around town in the night with our yaps open and that will give us the energy to use some of our powers during an eclipse?” he asked, his voice filled with mockery and confusion. “No offense, ol' Larry, but you ain't got a screw loose, no?”
The man, called Larry, sighed.
“It matters not... we have some more important issues to discuss now. And Jonathan... it involves you. Setting fire on a building? It's all over the news!”
“So what? Every house can be set on fire.”
“Yeah – problem is, the house was ancient. It lacked a ceiling, the floor was full of holes and it caught fire during the rain.”
Jonathan sat back in his chair, mumbling uncharitable phrases about the meeting.
“You need to control your powers, Jon'.”
Kenneth just stood firmly, listening to it all. He found the meeting boring – and most importantly, he was hungry still. What was all this about powers anyway? After all, they were only shapeshifters. It wasn't as if though they could do more than that. Of course – he knew very little about himself either way.
Jonathan scoffed. “Right, right...”
“But the new kid's gotta learn it too! You're speakin' to me as if I was the new kid.”
Kenneth looked up.
Ol' Larry sighed. “Yes, yes... He'll learn too.” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I'll explain the basics to both of you right now.”
He sat down in an empty chair.
“You're wrong. We do not 'eat' this energy as though we'd eat food. However, we absorb it. There are sources everywhere – potent gatherings of energy. You can call them ley-lines. Every year before that eclipse, we travel north, to a hidden valley. Our ancestors built there an altar – one where we can harness the energy of the ley-line. We drink it, Jonathan. The altar manifests the energy the ley-line it stands upon harvests from the moon... as water.”
Jonathan didn't seem convinced – nor did Kenneth. The latter found the Ol' Larry doubtful at best. The former really believed the old man was growing insane – and he just growled.
“Larry, you've lost it this time.” he said. “And I will be no part of this madness. I can handle a day without my power – no problem. You go; I'm out.”
With that, he barged out of the room. The man, Larry, smiled faintly before he turned to the others.
“Anyone else going to join him?” he asked. There were no answers.
“Good.”
A few moments of silence passed, before Kenneth – although somewhat discomforted about breaking it – opened his mouth.
“Larry, was it? Uhm – I too think your story is a bit, eh; whaddya call it? Far-fetched...” he said.
The old man laughed. “Of course you do!” he called out. “'S 'cause I made it up on th'spot!”
“Er – what?”
“Y'see, son, those that don' wanna be with us, they're with 'em. And if they're with 'em, they'd no' wanna bring ba' suc' a s'upid s'ory.” one of the others said, another boy, perhaps around twelve. He was bald.
“So... Logic for you is – euhm...” Kenneth began, but Katherine stopped him and whispered to his ear.
“That's what I've been trying to tell them for years now, but they won't listen. I think Larry has to be replaced soon myself. Of course any spies would still stay...”
She sighed and spoke up to the others.
“Right... now that we've ruled out possible safety breaches -” she paused to hiss a little, “- can we finally get on with the real reason we are here?”
“Yes, yes...” Larry began. “We're at war.”
Kenneth tilted his head slightly. He'd heard of problems between the shapeshifters and the Arcanists, but to think that it had gone as far as war? He recalled meeting Katherine for the first time a few years ago – she had told him about much of the conflict and also showed him how to properly shapeshift. Before, he had no control of his ability, which was partially the reason he always wore a cap in the past. He'd grown long hair to hide that he didn't have human ears, but rather feline ones, much higher up on his head. Naturally, he didn't have to do that anymore – still, he had grown rather fond of his style.
“And yes, we're at war with them – the Arcanists.” Larry continued.
“My contacts at Lydford in Devon tell me they're on the move. They say they have taken two shifters down there...”
The room was filled with “Oh no!” for a second.
“Unfortunately, yes. They cannot be recovered.”
“So what do we do?” the little girl, Ashley asked.
“Well... nothing. We can't do anything quite yet. You see – and this goes for you as well, Kenneth – some parts of the story I told is true. When a lunar eclipse is on the rise, our powers weaken. When it is at its fullest, we are defenceless. The Arcanists will definitely strike against us during the eclipse, and that would be devastating.”
The group nodded in agreement. All of this new information, however, was starting to become too much for Kenneth. He seemed more confused than anything.
“Why are we in conflict with them?” he asked.
Ashley spoke before the rest could respond.
“It has been going on for ages. I don't know how it started, or when, but we know it's been ongoing for decades, perhaps even centuries.”
“So nobody knows why we fight, but everyone knows we do it.”
“Heh, I guess you could put it that way.”
“Doesn't make sense.”
“Well, I'm certain the arcanists know. If you've got the guts to go ask them.”
The girl grinned viciously. She spooked him out.
After a few minutes of silence, Katherine coughed.
“There is a suspicion, however...” she began. “Some say that the arcanists are guardians of a place known as the 'Library of Creation', an underground temple built eons before life first appeared on our planet. They say it is maintained by technology we cannot even imagine today.”
Kenneth peered at the woman.
“But that would be impossible! I mean – if life didn't even exist, how could it be built?” he asked.
Katherine merely shrugged.
“I just say what I heard. And – well... Our conflict supposedly originated from the moment we shapeshifters discovered the Library in ancient times. The Arcanists inhabited it, I hear, and they began killing us to keep it hidden. Its location remains hidden to this day – only the Arcanists know of the entrance. And the uneasy peace that was made hundreds of years ago has finally been broken.”
The group sat in silence.
*
Hours passed as the group sat in their room, discussing. The skies darkened slowly, the dim moonlight fading away, preparing for the sun to rise.
On the very same building's roof sat a boy. He wore a dark-blue hood and a robe of matching colour. He glanced skywards, taking a deep breath. The air brimmed with energy, just waiting to be used. He moved a hand up to his face, clenching it on the way. A light-blue smoke, glowing in the dark, began erupting from it. As he did this, the sky began glowing as well, blue streams of energy appearing, flowing across it. They appeared to come from different parts of the continent – perhaps even the world. When they met over the boy, it began descending, being absorbed into him. Symbols and numbers appeared around the person as this happened.
“Continental analysis initiated.” he said, his voice void of emotion.
“Commencing analysis of systematic corruption. Estimated time until completion: Seven days.”
As soon as this was said, the streams turned invisible, the glow dispersing.
And the boy had disappeared.
A chimney or so away, an adolescent had been hiding. His teeth were cat-like and he had a feral appearance. He looked at the spot the boy had sat on.
“Systematic corruption?...” he mumbled. “I should tell the others.”
Jonathan slid down from his spot, landing gracefully on the ground below. He then looked toward the door leading into the house. And then walked away.
“No...” he said. “Lunatics, the bunch of them.”
Chapter 2
Morning came, some sunlight flickering through the curtains, lighting up the darkened, dusty room. Kenneth lay sleeping on his bed, the occasional snore escaping his mouth. Downstairs, Katherine had already awoken. She was tired after yesterday's meeting – it had grown rather late.
She wore her crimson morning gown, a neat choice of colour, rather matched with her orange hair, which was not curled, but rather sleek, much of it resting on her shoulders. An explanation would be that it was soaked – she had just gotten out of the shower.
She found herself a place in her favourite room, sitting down in her favourite, comfortable chair, glancing searchingly around herself. The room itself was neatly decorated with a bunch of old masterpieces hanging on the wall, painted ceilings (paintings of a divine being in beautiful colours) and other works of art. The fireplace was in the inner wall, made of beautiful marble, and unlit. A little away from the fireplace was a desk with various papers on it, one single lamp bending over it.
Katherine's eyes glanced swiftly across the room before settling on a letter which had been left on that desk.
Her face formed a frown – she'd read that letter after sending Kenneth to bed and could recall every word written on it. It was from Mary Worthington, the woman that had cared for Kenneth before her own time. Undoubtedly, it could play a vital role in future events.
The letter told many things about Kenneth and a few things about the elderly woman too. In particular, it mentioned a lock-box hidden in the orphanage.
Katherine held the key attached to the letter in her hand and had been eyeing it over time and time again. The key was moulded in silver, decorated with small rubies on its handle – rather peculiar, considering the state of the orphanage at the time.
She couldn't help but wonder what Mary had hidden in her lock-box. She also wondered why she had been so reluctant to open this letter, waiting months before doing so. She was not about to kill herself over this reluctance, however, as it only meant a small delay. What bothered her slightly, however, was the mention of arcanists. Had they something to do with this?
Her hair had began drying, slowly curling itself back to how it was supposed to be. But the mention of the Archivum – she recalled talking about it yesterday, only she referred to it as the Library of Creation.
She was not given more time to wonder.
Footsteps from the floor above made her look up a bit, and, in response to yet another step, she stood up from the chair and stored the key under its pillow. She hurried over to the fireplace and put some wood in there, flashing her hand across it when she was done, before moving quickly to the kitchen.
“Kath'?” a tired voice called.
“Yes, Kenneth?” she answered. The boy came barefooted down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. A yawn revealed the sharpened corner teeth of his.
“How early is it?”
Katherine glanced at the clock. “Five-thirty.”
“That early?” he yawned.
Katherine nodded as Kenneth found himself a kitchen chair to slump down on. She was busy putting on water for tea.
“Any special wishes for breakfast?” she asked him. “We've got some bread le- for heaven's sake, Kenneth! The whiskers!”
Katherine had turned around to look at him and for a moment, the adolescent gave her a confused look until he connected her words to his face. Touching his face for a few moments, he hid them.
“Sorry... I'm tired...” he mumbled. “Bread, please.”
The woman shook her head, putting the casserole with water on the stove before producing some bread from a nearby casket before cutting it into neat slices.
“So,” Katherine began as she walked over to the table, picking herself a chair, “I suppose you know the routine and all that.”
Kenneth shrug-nodded as she put some slices of bread on his plate. “Yeah. And?”
“Well, darling, today there's going to be some change. We've got some business to see to and a long travel to prepare for.”
He grabbed hold of a knife and some butter, smearing way too much of it on his slices.
“Oh?” he asked.
“Quite,” Katherine nodded, “Although you're going to be the one to scavenge the sewers this morning. I'm telling you, them blasted rats are quick these days.”
“Waf ebblakty ahm ai lookeen fo'?” Kenneth asked, his mouth full of bread.
Katherine smiled.
“A shaman, my dear.”
He looked at her with wide eyes.
“Shaman?”
“Indeed. He likes to call himself Ratsy, for reasons you are soon to discover.” she answered, taking a sip of an appropriately placed glass of milk.
“And you will...?” Kenneth asked after a minute or two in silence.
“That is nothing you need to worry about.”
*
The sky had become darker as the day passed on, and around 3.00pm it was dark enough that one could mistake the time for being around 6.00pm. Some thunders could be heard in the distance, perhaps a bit hard to distinguish from the sound of the cars and their steam engines.
Like usual, the streets were crowded, and the marketplace further down the road could probably not spare any room for more. Among the crowd there walked a hooded figure, dressed in a long, black coat. The figure moved slowly up the street, glancing around occasionally. It didn't seem to be wanting to appear inconspicuous, for if it had, it would have chosen more casual clothing. Then again, long coats and hoods were common on the streets these days.
It glanced around again before it crossed the road quickly, moving toward an open bar. A man greeted the figure at the door and guided her inside and up the stairs. The bar itself looked rather shabby; dark tapestry on the walls, some candles and other lights here and there, a dirty cabinet full of dirty bottles of, what would most likely be dirty beverage. The bartender looked like quite a sod. Stubby, untrimmed beard, dirty shirt, bald head with a cigarette in his mouth at all times.
The hooded woman shook her head at the sight, wishing he could at least clean his shirt on the next occasion, before the stairs disappeared behind a wall and she with it. Taking a left turn, she faced a door with the sign “No trespassing” hammered into it. Without paying much attention to it or her escorte, she opened and entered.
“Ah, madam Katherine.” a male voice greeted her after closing the door. The room was oval, although not particularly big; it fit a couch under a window covered by curtains, a desk in the middle of the room, a mini-bar and some chairs.
The woman pulled her hood back, letting her ginger hair hang briefly in front of her face before she used a hand to move it away. Curled as usual, although it carried some signs of stress; she'd obviously not found time to groom it properly.
“Good day.” she answered. “Why am I here?”
The man – dressed in robes coloured black, contrasting his blonde hair and the white cape – folded his hands and closed his eyes.
“Straight to the point as usual, I see...” he mumbled, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“Quite so, quite so.”
“Sit, madam. Sit.”
Katherine – with a frown – found herself a chair and pulled it to the desk, putting it (and herself) in front of him. The chandelier hanging from the room was the only source of light in there and that was quite dim still. She couldn't even make out the colours on the wall.
“Well?”
The man opened his eyes again.
“My name is Timothy. We have already met once, during our younger days.” he said. The name struck a memory in Katherine's mind, although she couldn't quite place him.
“I am also a member of the Council.”
“That still fails to answer my inquiry.”
“Of course, madam. My apologies. You are here because you can help us find something we need.”
The woman arched an eyebrow, her mouth slowly forming a mocking smile.
“Why, of course! Certainly, I will help!” she said, her voice full of sarcasm. “Of course a nigh-poor woman living in an abandoned mansion with one adoptive son, barely capable of taking care of herself and him can help you find something you need!”
“Madam, please. We do not appreciate sarcasm.”
“'We?'”
As she asked that, two shadows formed on the floor on both sides of her, erupting into two people. One of them wearing a white hood and robes, the other having blonde hair tied into a -very- long ponytail, black robes made out of leather, black gloves and black boots. She had dark rings around her eyes and looked quite pale; at first glance, one would think she was dead.
“Correct. Myself. Then we have Tuls,” he said, motioning to the woman without a hood, “and Jonathan.”
He motioned toward the man in white.
Katherine shook her head. “Am I detecting a threat?” she asked calmly.
Timothy nodded slightly. “Clairvoyant as always too, I see. We officials prefer to call it 'cornering'.”
“Typical bureaucrats. So, what can these two do? No – wait. I think you'd rather have me find out on my own.”
The two newcomers stood still – like statues.
“No, Katherine. Allow me to speak.”
“Very well – I will be on my way in five minutes. You have until then.”
“Excellent!” he said, nodding. He then picked up a map from one of the desk drawers, folding it out on the surface.
“Last night, we detected some strange, magical energies in the sky. Something I nor anyone within the Council have seen over the centuries the Council has existed. We have had some people... well, looking after you and your friends for a few years now. The energy's centre – by that I mean the point of descent – is here.”
The man put a finger on a spot drawn in the map. Katherine recognized it.
“The old man's place.” she said.
“Correct! Two figures were observed on the roof of that building. One which was entirely cloaked, but – according to our information – was chanting some sort of magical incantation. We were also unable to identify the second figure. We were – however – capable of following the cloaked one's movements and it seems that he or she has transported him or herself here.” Timothy said, placing a finger on a forest in the Devon area; the Exmoor forest. It was going to be protected very soon if the government could ever get their fingers out of their bums and begin the processing of the case.
“And why does this have to involve me – or anyone I know about either way?” Katherine asked, finally showing some signs of impatience. How did this all relate to her anyway?
“You know very well that a group of Council officials travelling such a distance would not go unnoticed. However, people like you; you are easily overseen.” he answered, after a great deal of thinking.
The woman narrowed her eyes.
“What are you suggesting?”
Timothy laughed.
“You and your kind are worthless; both to us and them. None would expect a pack of nobodies trespassing sacred ground. No, people would expect more.”
Katherine rose abruptly, fist clenched – for a moment, a fire engulfed it. The two newcomers, Tuls and Jonathan were already both faced toward her, both in a similar stance, one hand held toward her. The one in black had an errant energy around her; one that gave Katherine the shivers. The fact that her hand was engulfed in purple energy unlike anything she has seen before did not help.
The man in white's hand was also glowing, however it had a golden, relaxed sensation to it. The man himself had a very relaxing aura, as if though he dealt with the holy.
She mentally shook her head; she spent way too much time analysing.
“Hitting a nerve, am I?” Timothy asked, grinning.
Katherine stared blankly at him; she'd never been the one to express anger through her face, really. No, she was in control of her body. At least she liked to think that way.
“We shall not. Go on your own petty journey.” she said, turning around to leave.
“I am afraid I cannot do that. Nor can I allow you to refuse.”
She froze where she stood. “*****...” she muttered under her breath. There was no way she could handle all three of them by herself.
“And, should your friends fail to stop me, how would you accomplish your goal of making me leave?”
Timothy laughed again.
“Simple, my dear. Kenneth.”
Katherine's eyes widened and she turned around.
*
The stench nearly put Kenneth unconscious the moment he transformed into his feline form, having climbed down the ladder. There was a secret entrypoint which he had used, in an abandoned back alley.
“Fantastic...” he mumbled, trotting on the edge a bit, trying to avoid the water rushing past him. “This will take weeks to wash off..”
He took a look around; everything was dark, even for his feline eyes. The sewers were made out of stone, cleverly formed. In the middle of the area he was currently in – a rather large tunnel – was a gully, which led the water to God-knows-where. The lighting was dim, although some natural light did enter through creaks here and there.
He began trotting up on the platform, squinting his eyes.
“Hello?” he called out, his voice slightly hoarse – it was a cat's voice now, after all.
“Anybody down here?”
Not that he had expected any response. He was not disappointed. Taking a left turn, he nearly slipped into the gully.
It was that nigh-accident, however, which would show him a trail of breadcrumbs on the other side. By the looks of them, they were fresh. Perhaps he was in luck for the first time in days? Perhaps he'd find this 'Ratsy' soon and get out of this hole.
So he followed the trail.
