The story of the land's greatest scholar and scientist began with a question.
"Why do garfung and horses come in so many different colors?" Cygnus, precisely eleven years old, asked his father.
"That's an easy one. It's because the plants they eat contain an enzyme that alters the color of their fur."
"Then why don't we have colorful hair?" Cygnus asked. Though the boy would grow to be notoriously handsome in his later years, during his tweens, he had an awkwardly proportioned body and a homely face. "We eat those same plants, don't we?"
"Well, our biology is quite different. Flutterbeaks can fly, but we cannot, even if we craft our own wings. The way the world affects each creature is unique and beautiful."
"I see. Are there any books about it?" Cygnus asked.
Nikola, a frail yet well-aged man, closed the hefty book he was studying and adjusted his bronze bifocals. As he got up from his messy desk full of scattered papers and ink blotches, he gave his son a gentle smile from underneath his springy stache. His eyes were intelligent, though a bit worn, and each kind wrinkle on the man's face told a story about humanity's history.
"But of course, my curious child," Nikola said as he began to peruse the books on the shelves girdling the room, all of which were faintly lit by candles perched upon the walls. Cygnus loved his father's study and spent most of his waking moments there. It was underground, blocking out all the noises of the outside world, and its walls were encased with thousands of books, each with something new to learn. Though the hole was a bit damp and cold at times, it was a place where the boy could feed his endless lust for knowledge and truly get lost without any distractions. That itself warmed his soul.
"Ah, here it is!" Nikola said, grabbing a book titled Evolution: Origin of Species off one of the shelves. Cygnus happily took the book and eagerly began scouring its pages. Nikola admired his son with pride. He may not have been the most good-looking or strongest boy in their village, but he had the wit to compensate. Of course, it was not his innate intelligence that he admired most, but his endless inquisitiveness. The boy desired to know everything, and for that, he would go to great lengths. One question was never enough, and it would always lead to something that science had not yet answered. He'd spend entire nights answering all of Cygnus's curiosities, which always stemmed from a single, seemingly simple question. But those inquiries were the basis of Nikola's ideology, and the ideology of science itself.
It only took Cygnus a few hours to have read through the book in its entirety. As always, the theory proposed more mysteries than it did answers. He noticed it had accounted for the so-called "evolution" of humans and creatures, but it did not elaborate on the two phenomena that dictated their world the greatest: magic and the gods. Though most would simply say those two elements were intrinsic powers of the universe that didn't abide by the same laws as mortals, that wasn't enough for Cygnus. Where did the gods come from? What made them different from any other beings? Were they truly indestructible anomalies that weren't bound to the same laws as the natural world? What was magic? He had to know the unaccounted discrepancies that no one could explain.
Though these questions stabbed at his starving brain, he never asked his father. He knew nobody, not even his father, knew the answers, as it was not something one could stumble upon by simple chance. The gods would always remain in heaven, masters of magic and the human race, and forever be a mystery to the confused beings that rarely ever lived to be a hundred.
Cygnus sighed, catching the attention of his father.
"So, I presume that book raised more questions within you than answers, hm?" asked Nikola, who seemed to read Cygnus as if he were a book himself.
"Yes, but questions that cannot be answered," said Cygnus.
"Questions that can not be answered, or questions that haven't been answered yet?" asked Nikola.
"Impossible questions," Cygnus said.
"There is no such thing as impossible, only possibilities that haven't been discovered yet."
Dark Prophecies Regarding the Moonless Terra: Have the Gods Abandoned their Kingdom? Nikola read the paper headline while sipping a cup of bitter-sweet black tea, scratching his scraggly head.
The gods abandoning us? he thought. Of course not. It's not because they've forsaken us, but because they're scared. Whatever is on the Moonless Terra holds their secret, I know it.
Lancelot of Avalon had paid him a visit not long prior to that headline. When he arrived, he had a distraught scowl strewn across his mug, and it seemed that he had little faith in the future. He warned Nikola that prophecies were unfolding and that the kingdom would soon need the scientific village's help in braving the dark times ahead. While Nikola didn't believe in the absolution of fate, the prophecies of Kitsune and the Great Prophet always came to fruition, and thus had to be handled accordingly.
From that day on, he began tinkering away at a device deep in the basement. Hour after hour, the small metallic sphere took form and became Nikola's primary form of interest. He recorded everything he did in blueprints and kept this device in the basement at all times over the course of many months. The only other soul who ever saw it was Cygnus as he watched the steel orb become his father's obsession. He never told Cygnus what it was, but claimed that it may one day aid in humanity's survival.
Two years later, Nikola turned to his son, now age thirteen, who was hastily scarfing down a plate of eggs and brats.
"Say Cygnus," he said. "Tell me, what do you wish to do when you get older?"
Cygnus looked up, his cheeks full of mush.
"I want to do what you do and learn everything this world has to offer!" the boy ecstatically replied.
Nikola gave a reassuring smile and sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear that my research will be passed down to safe hands."
Cygnus looked perplexed. "What do you mean by that, father?"
His eccentric father laughed and told the story of how he always wanted to take his research to the darklands, also known as the Moonless Terra. He said even though he was considered by many a genius and the head of their village of scholars, his old body was weak and would die before he got strong enough to go to such a place. Instead, he confined his work to his basement so that one day someone with a strong body and compelling curiosity could take the torch from him and further his research.
"And the one I wish to pass down this research to is you, my son," Nikola said.
"What research are you talking about?" Cygnus asked.
"Why, the very origin of magic itself," his father said. "And with it, I'm sure we'll find the origins of the gods as well."
"What does that have to do with the Moonless Terra?" Cygnus asked.
"I believe the gods came from those lands in ancient times, bringing magic along with them. Please, Cygnus, listen to everything I have to say!"
Cygnus was only a child, but Nikola decided there was no one more fit to pass everything he knew down to. He proceeded to fervently describe the research he and the village of scholars they lived in had dedicated their entire lives to and impart his son with the knowledge, believing someday it would become of vital importance.
Nikola's own father had theorized, almost proving, that magic was the manipulation of microscopic objects called particles, and that each magic type utilized different particles arranged in a certain way. They were the origin of everything. The stars, the gods, and the nothing that comprised the infinitely large universe– it was all made of these strange spinning things that could not be seen. Given the order of known physics, manipulation of the particles should have been impossible, and thus, magic shouldn't exist at all.
But it did.
Alongside alchemy, which Nikola referred to as chemistry, the very world could be changed through mortal hands. Bent to the imagination with varying degrees of strength and limitations depending solely on the innate volume of a certain energy within each person's body. Like a muscle, this energy had certain levels at birth and could be expanded and increased with training. And that was the essence of magic.
The main things that his theory could never explain were the existence of the immortal gods and why magic existed in the first place. Though most of his research was a jumbled mess of questions and scribbles, they all pointed to a single place, and that was that legendary place across the sea. The one where few men had ever set foot, and none had ever come back from. The final frontier of their planet, and the holder of secrets, it was the place where neither the moon nor the sun nor the stars shone; the Moonless Terra.
Finally, when Nikola finished his sunrise-to-sunset postulations, he asked his son a question he'd wanted to ask since he was born.
"Will you one day go in my place?"
Cygnus stared at his father, who had a glimmer in his old eyes.
"What's the point of my going for you?" Cygnus asked. "What if you die before I get a chance to go? Then you'll never get to see the fruits of what you've worked so hard on."
"That is the very basis of science!" Nikola replied. " Humanity was not founded by one man or woman, but was forged by a long line of generations, each building upon the previous. If one of us were selfish enough to take all the glory, then we'd get nowhere. We each take what those before us knew and nurture it, then pass it down to those next in line. Though this method of building a puzzle piece by piece across millions of minds is arduous and confusing, eventually, we shall have the full picture. And though I may not be around to see it, I could not be more proud to have contributed to it with my own two hands. Such is what I consider a wasteless life."
"But if you're chasing an endless goal, what keeps you going?" Cygnus asked.
"Because to not know is more painful than any truth," Nikola said. "Yet ironically, you cannot let the world know of anything I've told you tonight. Not my theories of the gods, nor about magic. It is not quite ready for what we know yet, or rather, it's too dangerous."
Cygnus, age fifteen, was in his father's study. Well, it was more his study at this point since his father had retired and left it all to him. Nikola had taken the metal sphere he had spent many years tinkering with to the surface, where he continued to work on it, storing all the blueprints in the basement under some floorboards. He refused to let Cygnus know what it was and forbade him from seeing the blueprints, but claimed it was an idea unlike any other and would perhaps one day be feared by the gods themselves. Cygnus didn't think such a thing could exist and figured it was merely a cover to scare him and hide its true purpose. But even that proposed its own questions to the growing boy.
"Fear… why do I feel fear when considering the god?" Cygnus wondered as he scrambled through old books and threw together notes, which he crumbled and threw out in an endless, tactless cycle. " It's perplexing… why, why, why, why…"
By that point, Cygnus was no longer a small child sitting on the floor while his father read books of old, and had grown into a handsome young man who grew excited after each word he spoke. Though his father said he didn't mind his dreams going unrealized in his lifetime, Cygnus knew that he had to visit the Moonless Terra before he passed. It may have been a bit selfish, but he wanted to give his father a privilege most other inventors and scientists were never allowed: to see the fruits of their labors. He would go and come back with wondrous stories and answers to all his questions. He would not let him die before then.
Unlike Nikola, most of Cygnus's research until that point wasn't of the Moonless Terra itself, but instead of the particles his grandfather, whom he'd never met, theorized about. This was because Cygnus knew he had to get strong. There was only so much that could be studied without actually going to that impossible place. And for that, he had to go beyond the limits of magic like his predecessors. Arthur, Lancelot, and the rest of the heroes who saved the lands had all created their own magics and quickly became the strongest as a result. He'd also recently heard rumors that the princess of the land, Princess Sako, had also developed a new magic, though not much was known about her or her abilities.
I must become strong, I must know more! More and more, I want to know everything.
His grandfather's obsessive notes had focused on the fundamentals of their world, and that was those small spinning molecules that comprised everything. From this research that was passed down to him, Cygnus developed a new type of magic: the ability to directly manipulate particles, not in the sense of how others used preconceived notions to create magic, but in a more fundamental way. Using light photons, he could emulate a sun in the palm of his hands. He could crush that sun and create miniature black holes as well. Everything the observatory on his roof observed amongst the stars could be recreated, thrown, and destroyed– though on a much smaller and weaker scale. It drew the perfect line between mysticism and logic, creating one of the most powerful magics to ever be concocted. And though it was so strong, only he could wield it. He had yet to master it, but eventually, he would become known to the three greatest kingdoms, the west, north, and south, as Cygnus Rift, Constellation Sorcerer.
That would come well after a fateful day, one which altered Cygnus forever.
It was a spring noon like many others, and in his study, Cygnus was using mathematics in an attempt to increase the duration of his black holes, which he could only manifest for a single second. He was completely separated from the world, in a world of blankness where only he and his research existed.
The only thing that drew him away was when he heard the screams from above.
Though the soil atop the basement tended to cancel out the chirping of birds and clopping of horse trots, he heard the bloody yells of his fellow villagers, his friends, all too clear. The collapse of houses, the tearing of flesh, and the rain of blood; Cygnus could not see it, but he visualized it all too well with his intuitive mind. He ran to the stairs of the cellar door, which led outside. He tried to barge through, but it was locked. Or rather, something was blocking it. He pounded and pounded, trying to break through, then began to charge up his magic to bust them down. Right before he could unleash his attack, he heard the sound of gurgling breaths and droplets of liquid sputtering on the ground from the other side.
"Stay there!" Cygnus heard his father manage to yell from the other side.
"W-what's happening?" Cygnus asked frantically.
"An attack. The angels are here. Stay down there."
But Cygnus did not listen. He powered up the star in his hand and smashed it against the door as hard as his flimsy arms could. Though normally the door would have been incinerated in an instant, a protective barrier spell had been placed on it, and Cygnus's spell shattered.
"I may not be strong, but I'm still experienced enough to keep my son safe," Nikola chuckled, which quickly turned into raspy dying coughs.
The screams had stopped, and the only thing that remained was the slow stomps of a beast lumbering ever closer.
"Listen, Cygnus," his father said. "If we all die here, then all the progress this village has achieved will be lost. Stay down there for as long as possible. Underneath my desk is a loose floorboard with a medallion. Take it to Wunderdum, the capital of the Westlands, and show it to the guards and the king. It is our insignia. Tell them what happened here today."
"But-"
"Continue our research in the capital and take us into the future, my dear son. The village is heavy, but I know your back is strong enough to carry us all."
"H-hide with me!" Cygnus said, stuttering, as his eyes welled up with tears. "We can survive together!"
"Humanity's greatest weapon is our ability to pass down wills. From me to you, I entrust you, beloved son, with the life I have lived. On behalf of the village and myself, I thank you in advance. Now, take this beating mind of mine into the future with brilliance!"
Nikola's final words rang in Cygnus's head as he heard his father find a way to stand and stumble off as fast as his dying body could. Despite punctured lungs filled with blood, he yelled and somehow managed to attract the attacker's attention, leading them far away from the basement, which held his pride and joy. Cygnus continued to bang at the barrier for hours, but could not break the protective barrier, no matter how he attacked. Panicked, his screaming would not stop. Time didn't move, and eventually, the room grew fuzzy. His short sips of air weren't enough to keep him on his feet, and he fell down the stairs, unconscious.
Cygnus awoke, praying that it had all been a nightmare, but when he opened up the doors to his village, he saw the corpses. He saw the crushed house and the gore. His researcher friends and father were long since dead and covered with raggy blankets as guards from the neighboring city put out fires and investigated the scene. They noticed Cygnus, the sole survivor, and rushed over to him. They questioned him extensively, but Cygnus was dizzy and could only reply with a loud silence. Eventually, their questions stopped, and they covered him with a wool blanket as night began to fall. They packed him in a wooden cart to take him to an orphanage within the city. His fate would've likely been sealed there if the regiment's general hadn't noticed the young boy was clinging to something. It was a medallion with an odd insignia of a torch carried by a star. His eyes grew wide at its sight, and he told his men that there was a change of plans. The boy was to be transported to the capital for an audience with the king.
Though it took Cygnus months to become whole again, his appetite and curiosity eventually returned. He might not have been able to show his father the fruits of his labor anymore, but he could still carry his will into the future. Cygnus worked tirelessly, growing heavy bags under his eyes, and quickly became Westland's greatest scholar. He joined the number one guild, Avalon, where he made countless discoveries and amassed thousands of followers in his wake. With his father's final words seared into his heart and a burning desire for knowledge, he worked tirelessly towards the Moonless Terra. Most people saw him as an uptight scientist with little regard for humanity, but a few knew the truth. Everything he did was for mankind. Not just those of his nation, or those bound to trivial borders on the concept of power, but for all who ever were and would exist.
Perhaps no one could see him as he wrote tirelessly at his desk in the candlelit night, but he always had a fiery glow on his face. The pains of the past may weigh on him heavily, but he still runs into the future with brilliance. Bags lay beneath his indigo eyes, yet they still twinkled with determination.
"Witness us. No matter how you try to stop us, we will never die. Of that, I assure."
…
"Yes!" Xinyu exclaimed. "That is a man whom I would love to have as a comrade!"
"I agree, he is truly a man amongst men," Brax said, almost tearing up from the story.
"Question!" Xinyu said. "What exactly was his father working on?"
"That secret technology died with Nikola…" Galahad said. "Cygnus hails from a village of science and research. Nikola was their leader, and it was said that the device he was creating was to defy the gods. We believe it is for that reason that the entire village was destroyed."
"Well, maybe Cygnus knows what it was," Brax proposed.
"He doesn't," Lancelot said. "But mark my words, it was a dangerous idea, and should not be uncovered no matter what."
"Wait. Could it be that you know?" Galahad asked, shocked and more importantly, worried.
"I have an idea," Lancelot said. "But there is no point in dwelling on it, for it is lost forever. Maybe it was our hope at one point, but now we must find other answers."
"The answers are simple," Xinyu said, then quickly changed the subject. "I presume we are allowed to eat soon? I grow quite hungry like Brax. My stomach growls!!"
"Of course," the guild master said. "But before you go, I wish to make something clear. If you are to join him and have the privilege of his powers, there is one rule I have for you."
"And that is?" Brax asked.
"Ensure his survival even at the cost of your own lives. His mind is a key that cannot be lost. It's something that I believe can defy fate and may very well become more imperative than any prophecy, chosen one, or anything else. So even if it kills you, make sure he lives."
They stared at the elderly man's deadpan eyes. He was utterly serious. He had a look in his eyes that told them he would personally snuff their lives out if they allowed Cygnus to die.
"You do not have to concern yourself with such things," Xinyu said as she bowed. "As long as I draw breath and beyond that, I shall not let my comrades or anyone else down."
When her head met her waist, she seemed lost in her thoughts. She almost seemed melancholy. No one else caught it, but Brax did. He heard her.
"Never again…" she whispered under her breath.