The Drogen's Law

The Bonding Day (Linden)

Linden stood in front of the mirror. A "servant boy" named Tim draped a green cloak with a symbol of golden wings over his shoulder. His coal-black hair complemented his pale complexion. He had deep red eyes and sharp jaws. Lindon wore a green and gold coat and pants of a similar color. A golden wing-shaped broach was strapped to his chest. Again, he wore a brownish-gold belt with a wings-shaped buckle. A sword hung on his hips, and a knife was strapped to the back of the belt. All in all—Lindon hated it.

The clothes were ostentatious and taxing to the eyes. Whoever designed the formal attire for the Aether tribe must have done it during a fit of madness. He wished he could go back in time and murder the person.

His hatred for the ceremonial clothes aside, he was ready for the ceremony. He could barely make himself stop fidgeting.

"Is there anything else you need, young master?" Tim said. Everyone may think that Tim was nothing more than just a servant, but he had a bigger role to play.

Linden waved his hand to Tim. Tim bowed once and retreated to the corner of the room.

Lindon sat on the table, sideways. Bloody cloak! It was so uncomfortable. He couldn't even sit right with the thing hanging on his back. Detestable!

The bonding ceremony would begin at midnight—he would turn fifteen—thus, the bonding ceremony. A vampire without the spirit bond couldn't go far on their cultivation journey.

It was one hour from midnight. His honor guard and escort should be here any minute now. He had to wait for almost twenty minutes, which felt like an eternity to Lindon.

He heard a knock on the door. Lindon gestured for Tim to open it for him. A guard entered the room with a bow.

"It is time, young master," he said.

Lindon nodded and stood up with some difficulty. These clothes were really uncomfortable. "Let us go then."

Lindon stepped out into the dark hallway. Twenty guards were waiting for him. He followed the guards, who flanked him from all sides. Nobody spoke, not even Tim, who was walking beside him. He found it frustrating.

They had to walk down the flights of stairs most of the time. There was one thing Lindon found strange. The guards would sometimes increase their pace—sometimes decrease it. Curious.

They arrived outside the ceremony room precisely at midnight. Only then did Lindon understand the pacing of the guards. The guards announced him and they ushered him into the room before he could even steady his nerves. Lindon snarled and cursed in his heart. Outside, he was as calm as the winter breeze.

There were seven men of women in the room, including his father. All of them were wearing similar clothes to his own. It didn't look good. Lindon sneered in his heart. No one in the room looked older than early 30s, however, he knew they were older than at least a hundred.

His father, Iroh, who looked an older version of himself, was over three hundred years old. The oldest man in the room was the sage of the hidden transformation, the only man in the tribe who had managed to break through to Sage Realm. The sage was about seven hundred years old.

The only sage in their tribe didn't even know how he had advanced to that realm. He didn't even know to cultivate further, the core of the beasts in the same realm didn't work.

The Bankers probably had Sages in their ranks. Lindon refused to believe that they didn't. How else could they have become the controlling power in the world? The bankers probably knew the secrets of advancing to the Sage realm.

They directed Lindon to the center of a circular stone slab which was etched with rune scripts. Lindon didn't understand them. Well, Lindon wasn't a Scriptor, so he couldn't draw the runes of power, anyway. The only thing he knew about them was that there were battle and formation runes.

"Who stands at the eye of the bonding circle?" The sage of the hidden transformation intoned, pulling Lindon out of his thoughts. All the people in the bonding hall surrounded him in a circle just outside the stone slab.

"I, Lindon li'Morgan, son of Iroh li'Morgan—sect master of Aether Sect. Son of Freya li'Morgan—Matriarch of Aether tribe, stands at the eye of the bonding circle."

"For what purpose do you stand in our holy circle?"

"I stand here to summon the spirit I am most worthy of—spirit that is most worthy of me, to form a bond for our mutual growth."

Lindon said everything word-from-word, as they had taught him for this ceremony.

"And are you worthy of this bond?"

"We shall become worthy of our bond as we grow together. As it ever was—as it ever shall be."

"Then bathe the rune of summons with your blood," the sage intoned for one last time.

Lindon's father stepped forward, carrying a golden knife above both his palms. He took the knife in a graceful motion. His father mouthed, 'Happy Birthday, son,' as he stepped back to his former position.

Lindon gave his father a nearly unperceivable nod, showing no expression on his face. The bonding ceremony was the most sacred ritual of the vampires. Showing any emotion before he summoned the spirit was blasphemy.

There were two runes at the eye of the circle. The summoning rune and the blood rune—he had memorized these two runes before the ceremony.

Greeting his teeth, Lindon slit his left palm with his knife and poured the blood over the summoning runes. Once he was done, he extended his spiritual sense to the blood runes and connected his blood core with them. That connection activated the summoning formation, and all the runes within it glowed red.

He broke the connection with the rune as soon as his blood over the summoning runes vaporized and disappeared without any trace. Lindon took two steps back. Lindon waited.

One minute passed. Nothing Happened!

.

.

.

Three minutes passed. Nothing Happened!

'Come on,' Lindon thought. This can't be happening to him. He was the son of the two most powerful people in the tribe.

Five minutes passed. Nothing Happened!

He gulped. 'Please!' Lindon pleaded in his heart. Sweat beaded on his forehead. If no spirit accepted him, he would have to live a life filled with ridicule and scorn. He wouldn't be allowed to become a warrior.

Ten minutes passed. Nothing Happened!

His life was over. 'So not a single spirit found me worthy. How will I ever call myself the son of—'

The air in front of him cracked. Lindon felt a sudden jolt of relief that he almost laughed out loud. He held his tears back with difficulty. He had never been so scared in his life before. Not even a year ago, when he was almost assassinated. Twice!