Alien Evolution System 9 The Woman

The Collector's vision went dark and a great sense of weightlessness. .h.i.t it. Nausea swirled through its body, surprising it. Only the rigors of wormhole travel had ever managed to make it nauseous.

The female's memories came in a ma.s.sive, chaotic torrent. It could see visions of countless scenes all cras.h.i.+ng into each other, forming an unreadable mess of feelings and senses.

However, amidst this waterfall of chaos, there were certain snapshots of memories that aligned correctly, forming coherent scenes.

--

Vania pressed her ear to the door of her mother's bedchamber, her dragon doll warm at her chest. It had just been her tenth birthday, and her celebration had been wonderful. Her father, the king, had arranged an incredible feast with the finest bards for he knew how much she loved poetry and song. She had tasted delicious dishes from all the other three kingdoms, and even now, she could taste the chewy sweetness of Eastern rice cakes in her mouth.

Voices, m.u.f.fled but audible, emanated through the door.

Vania was giddy with excitement. Her mother had promised her a grand surprise, and so, unable to wait, Vania had resorted to eavesdropping.

"You're sure about this?" said her mother, alarm in her voice.

"I am certain," replied a cool, resonant voice. Vania recognized it as coming from Thelgrimm, the court sorcerer. He was a nice man, but she had never taken to really liking him as he never had time to talk to her or play with her.

"Now that your daughter has reached some level of maturity, it is easy to tell. I had my doubts at first, it is to be sure, but I am now certain: she possesses a mana core and her mana is golden, the finest and purest of mystical colors. There are no doubts across the five realms that she will easily have a place in Hjartagard."

"But it's so far away, and she's barely ten," protested mother. "She can't take care of herself."

"Nonsense!" boomed her father. Vania was confused. He was supposed to be at one of his nightly meetings with the court. "Hjartagard is the realm's finest school for sorcerers. No family in all of Kyn would s.h.i.+rk an opportunity to send their child there.

Imagine it! Our daughter taught at the very heart of this realm in Hjartagard, learning the runes from the very G.o.ds themselves! Imagine the power! She could be advisor to a king, or perhaps a force of nature that brings armies to their knees!"

"But…" her mother said.

"The king is correct," said Thelgrimm before she could say more. "Magical talent of her caliber cannot be wasted. It must be put to use for the good of this realm. I, as a graduate of Hjartagard, know it well. It is an incredible place where there is nothing to want for.

Your daughter will never lack for food or shelter. The most powerful of sorcerers will guard her and teach her their ways. The G.o.ds themselves will bless her. She will never be wanting for friends as many of her peers shall be there with her."

Thelgrimm paused. "And, perhaps most importantly, magical power of this caliber cannot go untamed. It will grow wild like a blaze, consuming her mind and her body. She will become a witch, consumed with chaos and no more intelligible than a beast of the forest.

It is true that she will be on the young side at Hjartagard, but it is necessary to temper her talent before she fully matures."

"Oh, can't I go with her?" said mother. "She's so pure, so innocent, and so very kind. I can't trust anyone else with her."

"Nonsense!" the king said. "It is done. Vania will ride with Thelgrimm tomorrow to Hjartagard."

--

The memories jumbled from here. It seemed that only important ones, the one this female, this Vania, held dear were the ones that managed to hold enough strength to be intelligible.

Then came another scene.

--

Vania stood at the center of a great arena of marble. There were signs of her battle all around her. Chunks of marble had been torn from the ground, used as telekinetic projectiles. Water pooled in random spots around the arena, having been conjured and manipulated. Scorch marks riddled various spots like scars, and they had come from Vania, from the golden lightning arcing across her upraised arm as she looked down at Jing, her most hated peer.

Jing was seventeen, three years older than Vania, but the sight of seeing a younger girl taking her cla.s.ses and besting her at them had left her bitter. Vania was prettier and better in every aspect, and Jing resented that. And Jing had not been alone in that sentiment, having been able to gather a likeminded group of fledgling sorceresses – acolytes as they were called – to constantly make Vania's life difficult.

Vania never responded to their bullying. She was silent at their jeers of her n.o.ble blood, calling her a spoiled princess or of being an usurper's daughter, as if her father's coup hadn't saved the kingdom from the clutches of a tyrant, as if she could control who she was born to.

They messed with her food enough times that she always divined it to check whether her chicken or water had been tainted with alchemy. They sabotaged her potions, making her have to work twice as hard, gathering twice the number of herbs to make copies of her work.
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But Vania had not retaliated. For four years, through so many cla.s.ses, she had not.

Today, though, during combat instruction, something had snapped. Vania didn't know why, but she a.s.sumed that the cap she had placed on her bottle of pushed down emotions had finally cracked a little, and the white hot rage that flowed through her had taken control over her for a split second.

That was why Jing was lying on the floor, crying and clutching at an arm charred black with lightning. Jing had an affinity for water, but Vania had loosed lightning, magical knowledge she was not supposed to use in a friendly spar, to conduct through Jing's water and destroy her arm.

"Halt!"

Master Brandt leaped from the stands with magically reinforced legs, jumping almost fifty meters to land behind Vania.

"I said halt, young lady," said Brandt. A dangerous amount of mana emanated from him, ready to neutralize Vania, and she could feel it. She lowered her electricity-laden arm.

Brandt pushed Vania aside and looked down at Jing's pitiable form. "Go to the healers," he said tersely. "And do not show me this kind of weakness ever again."

Jing nodded through tears and weakly hobbled her way out the arena.

With Jing gone, Brandt turned to Vania and roughly grabbed her shoulder. He was a full head taller than her, burly for a mage and deeply scarred from years of adventuring and battling monsters.

"You fool!" Brandt roared, his deep voice echoing through the entire arena. "You dare use magic forbidden to you? You could have gotten her killed!"

"The spell was in the Archives. I just read the right tome. Make use of every advantage is what you told us, right?"

"You mean you stole the tome," said Brandt. He sighed and let go of Vania's shoulder. "You aren't afraid. You never are. Sometimes it is good to fear, Vania. Fear keeps us alive."

Vania didn't respond.

Brandt knelt a little, until his face, ugly and burned from dragon-fire, was level to hers.

"Listen closely. I like you, Vania. Strong will – you are a fond image of my past. The drivel Hjartagard brings to its fold during these days of peace are all weak-willed, used to full bellies and their mothers' warm teats. But you cannot allow your emotions to overflow, to dictate your actions.

You are blessed with immense talent, some might even say you are fated for greatness, but fate is no crutch. If you lose yourself to your base emotions, then no amount of fate can save you from chaos, and you are here to uphold order, to maintain peace in this realm."

"She deserved it," said Vania. "I did uphold order and peace. I made my own justice. I gave her what she deserved for years."

"Justice is not the same as order. Justice is not the same as peace." Brandt shook his head. "You will learn in time. For now, go and clean yourself up. And if another incident such as this ever arises again, you will be facing me in combat."

--

More jumble. More chaotic memories. Then intelligibility again. Another scene. Here, the female had fully matured. A relatively recent memory, it seemed.

--

Vania stared at the messenger raven, white-hot rage flowing her veins.

"You what?" she said, quietly but with a deadly edge that would have sent a chill through any man's spine.

A voice came from the magically constructed raven. A direct line of communication with the Runic Order, the cabal of sorcerers and sorceresses that headed Hjartagard.

"Your performance as advisor to king Ashkan has been lacking. We have told you repeatedly to steer him to peace, to give up his ambitions of conquest, and you have not been able to. You shall leave your post while you can and report back to Hjartagard for evaluation."

The voice was muddled, overlapped with female and male tones, and Vania had no idea who was talking, but knew it was some higher up in the Order. They were the ones that directed most of the movement of mages in the realm. They had been the ones to a.s.sign Vania as court sorcerer to the southern kingdom of Enna upon her graduation.

"I do what I can," protested Vania. "But Ashkan is difficult to reason with and controlled by fear. What do you want me to do? Take over his mind? I put him to sleep once for healing, and ever since, he has become so paranoid that he wears magic-resistant monster hides day and night until he reeks of forest filth. But to think that you were the ones behind the revolt."

The raven's eyes were dead and motionless – artificial. The voice behind it, too, almost as dead.

"It was a safety measure. Remember your oath to the Runic Order. You are here to preserve order and drive away chaos, and you are incapable of fulfilling your duty.

Thus we instigated a rebellion among the common folk. It was not hard to do – Ashkan's aggressive taxes and conscription policies have sowed much discord among the rabble already. It was simply a matter of harnessing that chaos and molding it into this rebellion to eliminate him."

"This is insanity. Madness." Vania's hands trembled with anger. "So the leader of the rebellion, this so-called-messiah who can perform miracles-"

"A sorcerer, yes," said the raven. "Sent by us under secrecy to gain the trust of the common folk and lead them."

"You mean brainwash them," said Vania. "Peasant revolts do not happen quite literally overnight. Common ma.s.ses do not unite so quickly that they storm the king's palace before he even knows there is a rebellion. You used magic. You used their negative emotions to fuel a large-scale spell to control them."

"We do what we must for order's sake."

"There are hundreds of innocents cut down in the streets by the king's guard. They would never would have wanted this were their minds lucid. How can you call this justice? Manipulating the ma.s.ses? And the king's family? His blameless wife and daughter who, trapped in the palace their entire lives, know nothing of the chaos outside, of the peasants who will come and tear them apart limb from limb? I presume you want them dead, too? No witnesses, no potential heirs of royal blood running about? How is that right? How is that just?"

"Justice is not order. It never has been. What is right is order, and whatever it takes, our Order shall achieve it. You cannot object to this, Vania of Bienfri. Your father, the usurper, how do you think he came to be in power? You should be grateful for the Order."

Vania grit her teeth. She had always had suspicions, but now she knew for true. Her n.o.bility was entirely the result of the Order manipulating kingdoms, helping her father with his coup. Her entire life had been constructed on the b.l.o.o.d.y peace the Order had built, but no longer would she rely on them.

"The Order can rot in the depths of Undir." Vania waved her hand and whispered a chant. A burst of lavender energy echoed out and slammed into the raven, shattering it into the countless particles of iridescent mana from which it was formed.

Vania acted quickly, hiking up her dress as she sprinted through the winding stairways of the Enna royal palace. It was chaos within, the kings guard barking out orders among themselves and mobilizing every which where, their scimitars and spears drawn. She ignored them and headed to the queen's chambers.

There, she found the queen huddling her daughter of six to her chest. The queen, having been wed to the king since her early teenage years and never allowed to leave the palace since then, was mentally no more than a child herself, and it looked almost as if the daughter she hugged was like a doll she straddled for comfort.

Vania rushed forwards and grasped the queen's hands. The queen's expression lightened from terror to comfort. She had always trusted Vania. Vania had been her only friend and even her midwife, having helped deliver the baby with the aid of healing magic when complications arose.

Vania felt responsible for their lives. She would not let the Order kill them for the sake of a peace born through lies and blood.

"Vania, Vania my dear," said the queen. "What is happening? The guards shut us up here and told us not to move, but there is so much chaos outside, so much shouting and fear. My husband has not come back in so long either."

Vania doubted her husband would ever come back. To the king, the queen was just his official wife, but he far enjoyed the company of his harem more. But regardless of that, Vania smiled and said, "It's fine. There is great danger outside the palace, but I am here to lead you to safety. Come, we must leave."

Vania watched as the queen, out of pure habit, began to ready herself by reaching for a comb and straightening her hair.

"No time, my queen," said Vania. "We have to leave now."

"What is it, auntie?" squeaked the queen's daughter as she tugged on Vania's robes. She was trembling with fear.

Vania knelt with a smile and stroked the girl's jet-black hair. "It's nothing, little princess. Just stay with auntie and be quiet, okay? Just like when we play hide and seek. Then everything will be okay."

Vania scooped up the girl in her arms and motioned for the queen to follow. "There is little time. Be as quiet as you can, my queen, and never let me leave your sight for elsewise the spell will be broken."

With a whisper, Vania chanted. "Myrkir"

A gentle fog emanated around the trio, and when it dissipated, they were invisible.

Vania led them away. She did not take them through the royal escape pa.s.sage in the dungeon. There were likely a.s.sa.s.sins sent by the Order there, ready to strike down the king and his family when they sought to run. Instead, she led them up to the prayer tower, the highest point in the castle, where there was no roof.

The way up to the tower was a seemingly never-ending spiral staircase, but Vania had cast spells to improve stamina so that they did not have to take any breaks.

Once at the top, Vania could see what occurred below.

Citizens and peasants from the surrounding villages were literally throwing themselves at the palace gates, not paying heed to their well-being. They were like a mindless ma.s.s of destruction, stepping over brethren that fell to arrows rained down by the kings guard. They slammed into the gates like a living battering ram, and the hinges of the iron barrier groaned. Soon, it would break.

Vania shook her head. She whistled and chanted, "Ari!"

A great eagle as large as a lion fell from the sky and hovered in front of the trio. Vania, queen's daughter in her arms, jumped onto the eagle. The queen quickly followed suit. Both mother and daughter were trembling, recognizing the chaos and destruction unfolding below.

"Auntie, will father be alright?" asked the daughter.

Vania did not answer.

The eagle soared away and into the nearby forests, away from the clamor of revolt and bloodshed.

There, blasts of darkness shot up from the forest, slamming into the eagle. The magically constructed beast screeched before falling limp and starting to disintegrate.

Vania held both queen and daughter and cast a barrier. The barrier held them together and protected them as they hurtled into the dark forests below, cras.h.i.+ng through trees and landing softly on the damp forest floor.

"Are you okay, my queen?" said Vania.

"Yes," said the queen faintly. She was pale with fright, and so too was her daughter.

Vania got up, instantly wary. Her hands glowed with immense amounts of power, golden rings of mana rotating around them. Whatever had grounded them was magical in nature.

Black-robed figures with silver masks emerged from seemingly nowhere, molding out of the dark of night. They held their palms towards Vania, and immediately, she knew she was done for. Silencers. The black ops of the Runic Order meant to take down rogue mages. Their palms were inscribed with the Black Rune, preventing her mana from flowing properly.

The golden bursts of mana circling her hands thinned out like candles blown out by a strong breath.

"Vania Et Bienfri, you have evoked the Law of Silence," said the robed figures in unison, as they neared. "You will be sent to Hjartagard for trial for defying the Runic Order's commands and disrupting the peace of this realm."

Vania pushed the queen and her daughter away. "Run," she tried to shout, but already she was feeling weak, dizzy.

Then darkness.