IX. Adax

The Scion stood there, her skin still glowing from what she had just stolen, her eyes their regular colour. She walked towards one of the large windows that lined the walls and, with a wave of her hand, it flew open, revealing the moonless sky above. Adax, for the first time, felt the Cloak’s constant presence as menacing. The Scion turned her palms facing upwards and a river of light, power, shot up to the sky like an arrow and hit the Cloak. It glowed in response, the light spreading out from the point of contact, a pebble making the water’s surface echo in homocentric circles outwards. “This is how the Cloak was created and this is how we maintain it.” Adax was so shocked he had fallen into a unreactive state. “Ancient texts state that the Fawn himself had imbued the plants with fragments of his power, as his gift to the land and its denizens. The power that the plants contained, over time, became part of the air, the water, the land itself, trickling into the human population, generation after generation, giving Artefix their unique abilities to possess and control their own power at the same time. Fawn seems to have blessed us, as well. Arteficia is what made what I just did possible. But the plants are terribly temperamental, dying unpredictably. This means we cannot produce much of the extract, so the vials are used sparingly.” If the Fawn was behind Arteficia, surely he hadn’t anticipated Concipios maliciously using them to claim power that hadn’t been bequeathed upon them. Whether that was history or theology, little did it matter. A rainbow was still a rainbow, be it the Fawn who shot it across the sky with his arrows or sunlight, dancing playfully after a downpour. Adax had studied enough to know; sometimes a myth or event could be the one and the same. If she noticed how scared Adax was, Mavi didn’t give any indication. “Is this how we won the war?” Adax asked, the thought finally dawning on him. Mavi nodded encouragingly, a mother, proud of her child for getting his sums right for the first time. “I see something in you, Adax. You remind me of someone I used to know.” Her eyes took a faraway look. Regaining her composure almost immediately, she went on. “As our Concipios discovered, with the use of Arteficia, they could take the power of others and use it in many ways; Syphon it into their Vectors, making them more powerful, controlling the will of anyone.” The curse that escaped Adax’s mouth couldn’t be helped. “Were innocent Infelix drained for this?” Adax asked, already knowing the answer. Erethia would gladly drain its own people, let alone enemy Infelix, if this meant victory. “War is not a time for morality. This was the only way to ensure our land’s survival.” Adax suppressed the urge to mention that the land’s survival was never in any danger. Only their ancestors’ greed was to blame. “Why are you telling me all this?” he asked instead. “Another reason we need to be prudent with the extract, is the addiction it seems to cause to most Concipios. We have noticed, over the years, that the Concipios the settlement churns out have proven to be the most immune to Arteficia. We haven’t had a Concipio from there in a decade. We cannot afford not to use you.” she explained.  “Are you addicted to it?” Adax asked. “Do I seem addicted? I come from the settlement as well. And I can only assume that in our blood there are still some remnants of that ancestral power. That is why the plant isn’t affecting us as much. Our power recognises its power.” she said. “Now what?” he found himself asking. Mavi smiled. “Now, you drink some too.”