Blurring the Lines (Solo)

[Satevis]

39th Day of Spring, 512 AV

The moon hung over the ocean, its light reflecting bright silver against the waves as they lapped against the shore. A soft breeze hung in the air, coming in from the land and blowing out over the ocean. Sounds drifted down from the nearby pier, the muffled tones of many voices talking in unison as lights shone brightly on the structure. The mysterious black and white obelisks still jutted out from the sea, their purpose and nature unknown to the people of Zeltiva.

It was hard to believe that a little less than five years ago, he had washed up on this very shore.

The metal-cored wooden scimitar cut through the air with a whoosh, the force behind the cut nearly throwing him off balance and causing him to swivel awkwardly on his feet. He frowned, muttering under his breath in Shiber as he straightened up and held the sword out, getting ready to try again. He had finished his third lesson with Carter yesterday, and although he was improving, the man still said he was too stiff, and his movements were too jerky and hesitant. He had been out here for the past fifteen minutes already, trying to correct that.

It was night, so Satevis was in his Ethaefal form, his violet eyes set in a look of concentration that he usually only wore for his magical studies. He adjusted his grip on the practice scimitar, moving it slightly in his hand and familiarizing himself with the weight. He had gotten more used to it over the course of his lessons, but it was still fairly new for him. The metal core made it difficult at first, but he could see Carter's point. It better approximated the weight of the actual scimitar than a plain wooden sword would, and the end goal of this sessions was to get him at least skilled enough to use the real sword.

Fluid... he thought to himself, his eyes moving over to the ocean beside him. The waves continued to lap against the shore, striking the coast and drawing back slowly with a steady rushing sound. He eyed the water, then thrust the wooden sword point down in the sand, leaving it behind and taking a few steps forward.

Satevis took a deep breath, turning his palms outward on either side of him. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the power within him, his own Djed. As he exhaled, he expelled silvery Res from his right palm, the Res taking on a liquid nature. He attempted to mimic the liquid Res in his movements, raising his hand. He brought his hand down in a fluid, slashing motion, the Res leaving his palm and snapping outwards from him like a whip. At the last second, he transformed it into water, the cool liquid hitting the air with a sharp snap before falling to the ground below.

The Ethaefal stared down at his hand. He could do it with Reimancy. He just needed to learn how to do the same with his sword. Carter had taught him to think of the sword as fire, with the way it would hurt him if he wasn't careful. But fire alone wasn't a complete picture. If the sword was fire, he decided, then he would just have to be water.

He walked back over to where he had left the sword, taking it by the hilt and pulling it out of the sand. Satevis gripped it the way he had been taught, starting from a ready stance. He took a step forward, visualizing the ocean in his mind and the flowing motion of the water whip he had brought into existence just a few moments ago. Satevis kept those in mind as he relaxed his muscles somewhat, bringing the sword down in a slash.

It moved, the wooden sword's tip cutting fluidly through the night air as he brought it down and turned it slightly. In his mind's eye, he saw the sword not as wood but as gleaming steel, its curved edge cutting through empty space as he stood on a mountain top. He saw stars all around him, felt the sensation of cold mountain air searing the inside of his nose and throat as he inhaled, his muscles already burning from earlier exertion. His hands, in his mind, were slender and slightly pale, and he was shorter, looking at the world from a slightly different vantage point. He finished his cut, putting one foot back so that he remained stable, both hands on the hilt of the sword. The figure in his mind did the same, moving with a fluid grace that Satevis could not presently emulate but that his body somehow remembered.

Satevis almost dropped the sword.

The moment passed, leaving him where he was, standing on the beach in Zeltiva looking out at the pier, with the ocean beside him. He took deep breaths, his eyes wide as he tried to bring back that small piece of memory. For a moment, as he had been practicing with the sword, it had been so clear, but now it floated just out of his reach.

Eridanus had told him that practicing skills would bring out memories of his past lives. So far, besides Taras the Benshira, the past life from which he drew most of his memories and personality, he had only seen one other--the mysterious Reimancer whose thoughts and memories often invaded his own when he practiced his magic. He knew that the Reimancer had been powerful, and as far as he could tell, his own progression of Reimancy was identical to that of his past life's--fire first, and then water. But he also knew enough about the Reimancer to know that he had never held a sword, and neither, as far as he could remember, had Taras.

The figure in his mind had been neither Taras nor the Reimancer, and the sword in his hand hadn't been a scimitar. It had been a similar weapon, curved in the same way and making use of the same set of movements, but it hadn't been the same. He frowned, concentrating as he tried to recall that fleeting image. What was it that Carter had called slashing swords with curved blades? Sabers?

Another saber, but not a scimitar. This past life wasn't Benshira either--the paleness of his hands told Satevis that immediately.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tried to calm his excitement. Another past life, then, another mystery to unravel. He remembered Taras well enough to know that the Benshira had lived in the late 200s. The Reimancer, he had less of an idea, but he could hazard a guess based on the images he had seen that the Reimancer lived in the late 100s to the early 200s. If this past life died fairly young, he could possibly fit in the gap between the Reimancer and Taras.

The other possibility was that he was a life from further back.

From before the Valterrian, or almost immediately after.

Satevis's mind raced as he considered the possibilities. He knew that he had pre-Valterrian past lives, or lives that occurred immediately after the Valterrian. They had to exist, considering Taras was born in 267 AV. But he had never considered the possibility that he might, later on in time, remember them. As an Ethaefal, he was in the unique position of having memories that potentially spanned centuries. Who knew what that could do for history, if he could somehow unlock them all?

But more importantly, who knew what that could show him about himself? Because Satevis wasn't purely Taras--he was all of them. He knew enough about the cycle of reincarnation to know that with each cycle, the soul either became more refined and closer to completion, or backslid and became worse than it had been, and he wondered at how his own soul had grown and changed as it went from life to life.

Those were academic thoughts for later, though. For now, he should attempt to learn as much as possible about this warrior.

Satevis opened his eyes, tightening his grip on his sword again. He attempted to emulate the grip of the man he saw in his mind's eye, slowly bringing his sword up and thrusting it forward. The man in his memory did the same thing, and in the back of his mind, it was like the two images were superimposed on one another. One a darkly beautiful son of Leth, his movements stiff and somewhat unpracticed, and the other, a warrior of surprising grace and agility. He moved with the warrior, his breathing coming in slow, measured, almost meditative breaths. He moved again from his position, slowly taking a step back and moving his sword in a clean arc in front of him. The figure in his mind did the sam.e

The lines between the two began to blur as Satevis moved, pulling his sword back towards himself and raising it in a parry. The warrior moved as well, blocking the strike of an invisible foe. The warrior turned, pivoting around and Satevis turned, following him now. The pair moved with their breaths, drawing their swords in as they inhaled, slashing out as they exhaled. As he moved, he began to feel more of the sensations the man in his memory was feeling--the whisper of silk against skin, the memory of long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, the ponytail moving slightly as he moved, and, as he slashed yet again with his sword, the faint whisper of power stirring beneath his skin.

So he wasn't purely a warrior. He was a flux user, a warrior-mage.

The realization jolted him out of his reverie, and Satevis stopped, frozen in place as the memories left him. In one instant, he was no longer the warrior mage, becoming Satevis the Ethaefal again. He stared down at his sword in disappointment, drawing it back and slashing it through the air again. There was nothing. No insight, no flash of memory. The connection, the faint whispers of memory he had felt before were gone...

It wasn't a complete loss, he decided. He knew more about himself than he had in the beginning. At least one of his past lives had used Flux, and had been a warrior. He understood that now. And he knew now where he had seen the sword before. The silk that the man was wearing had reminded him.

Lhavit.

The mountaintop scenery was almost certainly Lhavit. And as far as he could tell, the warrior had been human, and male. He would have felt if it had been different. That meant that the saber he had seen had been the dao, most likely. He remembered being in Lhavit, remarking on how similar the curved swords looked to his people's own scimitars.

He wondered if he would remember more about the man as he progressed in his training. Perhaps he could stand to learn Flux. The magic would help him with his sword work, and it was still a discipline of magic. It would draw him closer to understanding himself, understanding how all of these people came together to contribute to the Ethaefal he was now.

He was done playing around, he decided. His past lives had been magicians, almost to a man. Holding himself back because Taras had an aversion to magic was stupid of him. Next term, he would study magic exclusively, and he would sign up for a class in Flux.

That in mind, he picked up his wooden sword, deciding that if nothing else, he should go back to his training.

He swung the sword in an arc again, channeling his frustration at losing those memories into the blade.

[Arcane]

Rewards and Treasure! Experience Points +2 Scimitar +1 Meditation +1 Reimancy Lores Past Life: The Flux-wielding Warrior-Mage Fluidity of Reimancy Applied to Scimitar Swordsmanship Miscellaneous None Comments Oooh the mystery deepens! I envy Satevis for his luck with his past lives. Other ethaefals aren't so lucky! Keep exploring!