II. Lyra

The mysteries shrouding Erethia’s citadel were as impenetrable as the morning mists churning around it. A monolith emerged from the river and stood tall, casting a dwarfing shadow on the valley which was knifed in two by the ravine. Perched upon the monolith, stood the land’s citadel, towering over everyone, enclosed in walls not so high as to imply it was in need of shielding, but high enough to make the Concipio Pillar seem even more impregnable. Not all were privy to what took place within the Pillar’s walls; only Concipios and esteemed council members, and they didn’t take kindly to outsiders partaking in the knowledge. Then again, if they wanted to be less dramatic about it, they could have chosen not to drape a gigantic ward, much like a glowing bubble, all around the Pillar. Or at least that is what Lyra always said, and Adax lectured her about the Cloak, It’s not a bubble, Lyra, it’s a Cloak, being positioned in a strategic location which amplified the power that Concipios and Vectors could summon; Lyra’s eyes would get a glazed look, and Adax would murmur how she could at least pretend to exhibit a semblance of interest for the world they were privileged enough to enter soon. For him, a Concipio, it was different. They experimented and studied the limitations and potential of their power, and then applied all that to their work with Vectors. Lyra leaned back and rested her back on an oak overlooking the ravine, trying to suppress her shivers of delight. Soon she would be in the next group of Vectors to be allowed into the Citadel.

“Can you please help me?”, a breathless voice made her smile and turn to survey Adax. Ragged breaths coming out in short puffs had his lanky frame shaking like a leaf, and auburn hair stuck out in all directions, as he hauled a big rucksack to his feet. “How about you spend more time running up and down stairs, and less time hunched over a book, so you don’t pant like a goat giving birth every time you come up here?”, she chuckled. Adax wiped the sweat off his forehead. “You know my stance on unnecessary physical activity, but in this case I have to concede you may have a point. I don’t know how I will carry all these books with me”, he sighed. Lyra eyed the rucksack that seemed to weigh as much as Adax.  “Adax, Fawn save us. What are you planning to do with those books? Throw them at Concipios, so you thin out the competition?” Lyra elbowed Adax. She knew she was a Vector —a carrier of power— since she was six years old and accidentally landed on a tree brach when she wrestled an older boy at the settlement — a boy that turned out to be a Concipio— for stealing her doll. Untamed, a Vector’s power was wound to vanish, as soon as adulthood was reached. Vectors carried raw power but had no access to it, until a Concipio —a guide of power— tapped into them, found it, and carved a river bed to let it flow free, letting the Vector use it. Her siblings had also grown up to be Vectors, respected enough that they enjoyed as many perks as a Vector ever could; Lyra got up and draped her satchel over her shoulder. It didn’t contain much; Clothes and a small journal of drawings Adax had done for her. Lyra would be the next Vector of her family to ensure they would keep enjoying privileges unknown to most Vectors. She would see to that.