Summoned A Hundred Years Too Late

“This, my friends, is why we can never let our guard down against the demons,” the Legate said as we finished excavating what remained of the villagers’ bones.

It was a mountain valley like the countless others in the Kushtar range. A few habitations, many pastures, some fields, isolated enough that nobody would notice.

“This abomination,” the Legate continued, pointing at the mountain of bones, “is the work of Augustus and his followers. Men, women, children, all sacrificed on the altar of the vainglorious ambitions of one family.”

Some of my comrades shifted. I knew they had bloodlines, and so did the Legate.

“Remember this when you train, when you investigate, when you teach. Always remember. This is why we fight.”

Excerpt from Life of Lila Erl, by Samir the Architect.

Elisa yearned for the sea. Not the version her mother described, salt, fish, and hard labor, but the one in the stories, where the horizon was a door to idyllic islands and forgotten treasures. Where every wave carried something worth chasing, and someone worth chasing it with. She had watched it every morning since she was old enough to slip away from her mother. Always from the same spot.

From the west of Esmera, follow the path under the cliff until it ends. Climb over the ledge, then under a rock. That was her secret place, with an open view of the sea, and of the city and its harbor from where she would one day depart.

Today was supposed to be that day, but no ship had docked in Esmera since the incident.

She’d waited for so long already, a few more nights wouldn’t change a thing.

She knew the names of the ports on the other side. Vethara. Kator. The Iscari straits, where the current ran so fast that only three ships had ever crossed it and survived. She cared even more for the places whose names didn’t reach the stories.

A wave hit the rocks below, splashing some water on her clothes. She let it. The sea was restless today. Dark and deep. Just how she liked it.

A glance to the horizon. One to the harbor. Nothing.

Elisa stood up. She ducked under the rock, climbed down the ledge, followed the path under the cliff.

The path ran downhill, which meant the city got louder as she descended. Not as loud as usual. Cart wheels on uneven stone, arguments slipping through a window, the smell of gutter running alongside a butcher shop. The streets were narrow. Washing lines crossed overhead, shirts and linens blocking the morning light in strips. She knew every shortcut, every gate left unlatched, every dog that barked and every one that bit.

She lived on an unnamed street, fourth house on the left. The door was open. It was always open in the morning.

Her mother was inside, standing at the table with Elisa’s good jacket folded over her arm. When she saw her, she smiled.

She helped her into the jacket, smoothing the shoulders, checking the buttons.

”Hair,” her mother said.

Elisa sat. Her mother’s fingers were sure, they always were. She didn’t ask about the sea. She knew where Elisa had been.

When she finished she came around to look. Studied her for a moment.

”Good,” she said. Then she picked up her own coat from the hook by the door. ”I’ll be at Renner’s until past dark. Close the door behind you. You know where the key is.”

Her mother paused at the threshold. She looked back.

”You’ll tell me tonight,” she said. “I trust you to make the right choice.”

”Tonight,” Elisa said.

Then she was gone.

Elisa sat. It was always the same. Then she stood. She closed the door behind her and locked it. Today she would choose her class. She had waited fifteen years for that.

The city changed as she went. The streets widened. She kept in the middle of the road.

The class office sat at the junction between the main street and the harbor. Everyone knew where it was, and everyone came here once in their lives.

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She passed the docks on the way. A deckhand sat on a crate with nothing to do but wait for the storm to pass.

There was a short queue. She joined it.

Three groups ahead of her. In front of her, a boy standing between his parents. He was her age. Everyone got their class on the day of their fifteenth birthday. Waiting longer was technically allowed, but who could resist?

Clean jacket. Good boots. He was reading something, lips moving slightly. Nervous, she realized. Same as her.

Though not for the same reasons.

What if the class she wanted wasn’t offered? What if the sea wasn’t there? Class selection tended to go the way of the applicant, but sometimes it didn’t. And maybe today was such a time.

The family ahead moved forward. Two groups now.

The boy glanced back. Caught her looking.

“You’re alone?” he asked.

She almost didn’t answer. Instead she said, “Yes.”

He turned back around.

The queue moved.

The wait felt long, though she knew it wasn’t. The process was short. A few minutes per person.

Soon, it was the boy’s turn. He entered the office.

Another family had joined the queue behind her.

The boy exited with a smile on his face. Their eyes met. “Good luck,” he said.

Luck? She thought, straightening her back.

She smiled back. “Don’t need it.” And entered the class office.

The office was small. A desk, two chairs, a window that let in just enough light to see. A clerk sat behind the desk, a middle-aged woman with ink on her fingers.

“Name,” she said, without looking up.

“Elisa. Elisa Valeria.”

The clerk found her in the register. Made a mark. Then she reached under the desk and placed the artifact between them.

It was a sphere, roughly the size of a fist. Dark glass.

”Place both hands on it,” the clerk said. ”You’ll see your options. Take your time, most people don’t need much. When you’ve decided, it will happen.”

Elisa placed her hands on the sphere.

It was not warm, not cold, a feeling without a name, moving up through her palms and into her chest. The office disappeared. Not darkness. Just elsewhere.

Three paths opened in front of her.

The first was a workshop. A hammer. A needle. A ledger open on a workbench. Steady work, a roof that didn’t leak, a life her mother would approve of. She never understood the appeal.

The second was darkness. A back alley. A knife. Bloodied gold coins.

The third was the sea.

She felt the salt. The roll of a deck under her feet. The sea. The sky.

The office came back. The clerk made another mark in the register.

Elisa took her hands off the sphere.

She left the office.

Her mother would be working at Renner’s until dark. Tonight she would have to say it out loud. For now it was hers alone.

She walked back to the west side, on the path along the cliff, over the ledge, under the rock, and she was back home.

She sat on a boulder overlooking the sea. Then she looked into the waves.

Name: Elisa Valeria

Class: Navigator

Rank: -

Level: 1 (0/50)

Strength (STR):9

Dexterity (DEX):10

Constitution (CON):8

Intelligence (INT):8

Perception (PER):11

Class Art:

[Beneath The Waves, Beyond The Horizon] – Beneath the surface of the sea, deeper than light can reach. Beyond the horizon, where the sun never sets. Your destiny awaits.Class Perks: -

General Skills: -

Achievements: -

“I really did it,” she whispered.

Navigator. The class art was more than she’d dared to wish for. It was her. She couldn’t wait to step on that boat and sail toward the sun.

The sea had calmed slightly since morning. Still dark, still deep, but the agitation had softened, steadied. A sea she could travel on, and that she liked even more.

She thought about the boy, his smile coming out of the office. She understood it. She always did.

A crack came from the harbor. She looked. Nothing she could see.

Then her eyes fell onto the Merinus estate. Massive roots were breaking down its walls.

Her mother.

Elisa jumped to her feet and ran. Under the rock, down the ledge, along the cliff path. She’d heard the rumors. The villages. The Yshant.

She had to find her mother.

She was running down an alley in the west side of town when the sky turned red. Faster.

A woman came the other way. They nearly collided. The woman didn’t stop. Neither did Elisa.

When she reached the house, the door was locked. She’s not here. Wanting to check anyway before going to Renner’s, she took the key out of her pocket and tried fitting it inside the lock. Her hands were shaking. Third try. She opened the door.

Red light streamed in.

Growing from the floor, a single red flower.

It was beautiful.

Then nothing.