Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2) C.J. Aaron (unputdownable books .TXT) 📖

arts and in turn gifted their findings to the world,” Oswill narrated. “They shared their findings freely. In their absence, they left behind a society that knows little more than what is required to complete their tasks at hand. They are unknowing slaves to the kingdom they were born into and will die serving.”

He sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on the table before him.

“Education and the eternal quest for knowledge doesn't stop there,” Oswill continued. “All here continue learning, each and every citizen in Vim apprentices with a skilled laborer or artisan. We have raised a society that can defend themselves and the history and culture they keep. One day we will be like the phrenics of old, spreading the wealth of information back to a kingdom that craves the knowledge.”

Councilwoman Lenu rose from her chair, bristling from the statement. Without a moment's notice, the tension in the room grew thick, suffocating the air of civility that had blanketed the room to this point.

“You'd have us march back into slavery,” Lenu growled. “Those who have milked the tributes for the power in their veins covet their unnaturally long lives. They will not abandon their gifts of power and the superiority they possess. They will fight us with numbers and resources we cannot match.”

“That is enough,” Irie interrupted, her voice pleasant yet held a resolute firmness. “This is a discussion for another day.”

Ryl felt a wave of calm crash over him, diffusing the tension that had threatened to overwhelm them all. He met eyes with Paasek, who winked in reply. Councilwoman Lenu sank back into her seat, for the moment the fight in her seemingly dissolved.

“As you can see, our community, though it stands as an oasis in the Outlands, idyllic as it is, is not without controversy,” Irie said. “Where there are opinions there will always be disagreements. It is the way of the world. Disagreements when viewed from a place of mutual respect, understanding and empathy can create the wonders you see today. We have not always seen eye to eye, but have agreed for the betterment of our community.”

Lenu and the other councilors nodded their head in silent agreement at the statement.

“Over the last decade, there has been a growing sentiment that our time to re-enter Damaris has arrived,” Irie said as bluntly as possible. “It is a debate we oft hold, though not one with which you need to worry at the moment.”

Ryl grasped at the precarious position the council was in regarding the matter. As for him, his mind was made up; the task ahead of him transparent.

The system of tributes must end, though he had no desire for war. The resolute determination was not a rampant bloodlust on his part. In fact, his true feelings were the opposite. If there was a way to accomplish his goal without bloodshed, he would see to it.

Whether peacefully or at the tip of a sword, The Stocks would fall.

The tributes would be set free.

Ryl could feel his blood heating as he thought of the friends, the family he'd left behind. The loved ones who still languished inside The Stocks.

“The council will announce the true nature of your arrival tomorrow evening,” Irie continued motioning to he and Andr. Her statement broke his train of thought, and his blood cooled rapidly.

“Your training and education will commence as soon as you are hale and the mender clears you for training,” Irie informed them. “You may remain in your current apartment until you are back on your feet and revealed to all of Vim. At that point, you will move into one of the suites inside the Hall of the Phrenic.”

“And what of Andr?” Ryl asked the Council. “Where is he to go? Could he remain with me?”

Ryl blurted out the thoughts without thinking. In truth he'd never fully weighed the true value of their friendship in his mind. He looked at Andr as a friend, but more so as a fatherly figure, unconsciously filling the void left after his biological family abandoned him. Andr regarded him with a bemused stare. The corner of his lip pulled up into a barely perceptible smile before fading back into its rigid norm.

“The vast majority of those in Vim reside in homes within the mountain,” Irie explained. “However, if that is your desire, space can be made. Your suite has a second room, and the hall is nowhere near capacity.”

“Thank you,” Ryl said. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

Irie leaned back in her chair. For a brief moment, her rigid, formal posture broke as if she could no longer bear the weight of the world pressing down upon her.

“You are both a welcome addition to the city,” she continued. “Andr, I'm sure you will find work among the Vigil if you so choose.”

Andr nodded his head in reply.

“Ryl, to have another phrenic within our midst, even if you weren't born here is a blessing,” Irie admitted, yet her tone was woeful. “Even as skilled as you are, I’m afraid that the phrenics today are a far cry away from the phrenics of old. So much was lost during the Barren.”

Ryl squinted his eyes slightly, leaning forward in his chair.

“The Barren?” he questioned.

“It is the name we give to the darkest era in our civilization’s history,” Paasek answered somberly. “Nearly three hundred cycles ago, there was a time when the phrenics ceased to exist.”

Ryl was astonished by the statement. What had befallen the phrenic?

“Our lives may be long, our bodies may be more suited to fighting infection and destroying disease, yet we are not immune,” Paasek continued. “Gresh was the last surviving phrenic, the last link to the collective information that flowed through his veins. A great piece of the past died with him. His death was sudden and of natural causes and as such he passed without a transference.”

“Do you mean a transference of power?” Ryl quizzed.

“That is correct, Ryl, though I'm surprised that you've heard the