Rise of the Archmage Alister

The white-haired mage stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking a small town. The pathways stood out from a distance, made of logs with sand packed in between to smooth out travel by horse. From here they looked like lines of birch, weaving through the buildings like branches. A girl walked up beside him, the shuffling of rocks a sign of her approach, but he didn’t bother to look.

“Demerieth,” he stated as a hello.

“Hey,” she responded, continuing to walk forward until she passed him and sat at the edge of the cliff with her legs dangling. She was a petite thing, with bright pink hair that her little half-elf ears stuck out of. She had pink eyes, too. A rare treasure. “Where’s Lucas?”

Raalin shrugged, “He said he was going to clear out a lair of webspinners. He took Samuel with him.”

“They’re probably drinking, then.”

He shrugged again, folding his arms and glaring out at nothing in particular, “Maybe. I wouldn’t blame them. A drink sounds nice right about now.” They couldn’t afford to get lax right now. Especially not him. If his few friends decided to drink while they still could, though, then he wasn’t going to tell them no.

Demerieth sighed and leaned back, “Are you really going to go for transcendence?”

Raalin immediately tensed, “Yeah."

“You’ll probably die.”

“I know. I have to risk it. I don’t know how else I’d be able to stand my ground against the gods.”

“I know. I’m just saying. It sucks.”

He sighed quietly, inwardly, prying his eyes from the town to look at his friend, “Yeah. Well, I don’t have a choice but to make it. None of you are as close to a breakthrough as I am.”

“If I just had a few more years…” she mumbled, but of course, they didn’t have the time to waste, “It’s really frustrating, being so close but not being able to reach it in time… Leaving you… I know we’d be in the way, but it feels wrong. Everything we've been through… the journey through monster territories, saving each other more times than I can count… from slavery and prison, the ogre tribe, the damned cult…”

“I know. Even if I just buy you guys some time, then it was worth it.”

“I guess, Raalin… I guess,” she said with a deeply resigned tone. There was nothing more to say.

I left the next week to a nearby cave to work with my core, to finally breach the Violet Gap into the Transcendent Core colors. That was three years before I died, and I never managed to get very far into a Silver Core - nowhere near Black. I almost died breaching the gap. It took a full week and a half. I was so dehydrated, in pain, and starving. It hurt more than any core explosion before it, more than any illness I had had. I’d say it hurt more than any injury, too, but that’d be a lie. The gods have some pretty nasty tools at their disposal.

When I was a child, I don’t think I imagined living as long as I did, let alone… becoming as strong as I did. The streets didn’t allow for that kind of thought.

A child with short raggedy white hair glared around a corner, grey eyes squinting in the sharp light of day. He was in an alley with a sack over his small body in place of proper clothing. It had holes cut in it for his arms and head, but just as well a number of holes and patches that had been worn out over time. The poor kid looked like skin and bone, malnourished.

There was another kid behind him, a girl that looked to be a couple years younger. He held a hand back toward her for a moment before erupting in a burst of movement.

He sprinted out of the alley into the light and snatched two loaves off of a nearby booth. His tiny form dodged around a crowd of people and snatched a bag of apples from the next one.

Sure, stealing wasn’t… ideal, but it was how you survived as an orphan.

Raalin didn’t immediately head back to the alley - that was a good way to get caught. Instead he weaved his way through the morning crowd to disappear back between the buildings further on. This was a routine. He sometimes hit the same vendors, but tried to switch who it was or else they’d become too careful.

He only made it a couple streets away before a man in a dazzling white and gold robe gripped him by the arm, too fast for him to dodge. He lifted child Raalin off of his feet as he pulled him along, “Child! Theft in front of the eyes of the church?! How dare you? Are you vermin not man?!”

The priest ranted and raved as young Raalin was helpless. The food he had stolen dropped to the floor - it wasn’t what the man actually cared about. He cared that this dirty child was allowed to roam in broad daylight.

He beat me senseless and kept me in the ‘arms’ of the church from then on. They caught Carlia too - an elf friend I had that was of similar age to me. She had beautiful green eyes and brown hair, an old soul in a young body. She never let me see her tears or pain from the abuse we suffered, even as she was younger than me. I tried to protect her as best I could, and in turn, I suppose she tried to protect me in her own way.

My introduction to the churches of the land, in that case, a church of Iker, wasn’t pleasant. They offered us food, housing, but I don’t think it was worth the abuse and slave-like labor expected of us. I don’t think I ever thought of myself as a slave in the moment, but in hindsight, I suppose it fits the definition.

As biased as I am against churches and gods and their ilk, I won’t assume they never did anything beneficial. Many churches offered much needed support to the poor of their town or city. We were just the unwanted, dirty vermin that infested the underbelly of the city. It was natural they hated us. We made them look bad. They forced us into their “orphanage” as a result, to “fix” the problem. Even as they taught us what was considered the bare minimum necessary for a person to be considered more than a beast, most of them never had space in their eyes for true care towards us.

Even when some of us died from a plague that blazed through town… their concern was separate from us.

It started a lifelong hate… something I kept until my last breath. I dedicated my life to trying to change things and ended up with very powerful enemies. It's why I had to get stronger.

Blas interrupted Alister’s explanation with a crushing hug. His father gripped his shoulders and stared in Alister’s eyes, “You are loved here.”

He faltered, a small, sad smile creeping onto the corners of his mouth, “I know…”