Afanas & Senka

When he woke up in the morning, Afanas had the habit of opening the door of his cottage and watching his father train. Korovin whirled around the striking dummy like a dark silhouette dancing in the mist. The Bravos swordsman struck the straw scarecrow again and again with precise and resounding blows, under the fascinated gaze of his eldest son. Korovin was a veteran who had faced many Leviathans, and Afanas relished his tales when he returned from a hunt. He and his company would depart for long months to repel the seasonal assaults of these gigantic monsters, all to protect Asgartha.

Their airship cutting through the clouds to approach the beast; all harpooners at their stations, aiming their ballistae at the Leviathan they pursued; the feeling of camaraderie, even of family, that animated them... Afanas could only imagine these hunting scenes, but he was determined to embark one day to experience them himself, and perhaps finally earn his father's attention. More than his brothers and sisters, he aspired to take up Korovin's mantle to finally leave behind the dreary tranquility of his peasant existence. Ryang, his mother, knew that all too well, and had resigned herself to letting him go to Haven when the time came.

When he was old enough to train, his father began teaching him the rudiments of martial arts at a brisk and rigorous pace. Early rises and frugal meals, endurance runs and demanding katas... These repetitive tasks set the rhythm of young Afanas's life, and he sweated blood and water to prove himself worthy of his father. Perhaps one day, a Bravos would take him under his wing to take him to Haven, the Faction’s Bastion, where he could fill his gaps and officially become one of them.

But Korovin’s fateful decision changed all these carefully laid-out plans. The fighter could no longer stand the idle periods he had to spend in Caer Kettria, itching to go back on campaign. When the Bravos announced the departure of an expedition beyond the walls of Asgartha, decades before the official announcement of the Expeditionary Corps, Korovin volunteered to emigrate to those distant lands, still subject to the Tumult. He had enlisted his family to settle in a fortress barely built, the first outpost of an attempt to reconquer the world: the Cebir.

Even though she was shaken by this weighty decision, Ryang accepted her husband's arbitration without complaint. After months of preparation, the family set off, packing everything they could salvage from their old life into a simple cart. They embarked from Arkaster to the west, towards a province once known as Caer Oorun. When Afanas saw the sails of their frigate billow with wind and sail off into the distance, his heart began to race. They were following the path taken by the famous explorer Abelen Sundström sixty years ago…

Days passed as temperatures inexorably dropped. The coast they followed became covered in snow and ice, and small icebergs began to strike the ship's hull. Venturing further inland through narrow fjords, these ice floes became larger and more dangerous, making navigation more perilous. Fortunately, they would soon arrive at the Cebir, the citadel built by the Bravos and the architects of the Ordis. It was only a matter of days or hours. They would finally be able to warm themselves by the hearth and melt the ice embedded in their clothes.

Afanas saw the black waters close over his father's body. He must have screamed at that moment, but the noise was such that he didn't even hear the sound of his own voice. As he gazed at the swirling foam, the ship split in two before completely breaking apart. Splinters flew as the frame twisted like twigs being snapped. Suddenly, the boy felt a sharp pain in his eye. As he held his face, the tentacles dragged the frigate into the depths, with nothing and no one able to stop it. The icy waters enveloped Afanas as his screams were muffled in the darkness of the frozen seas. There was a smell of crimson in the water.

It was at that moment that he saw it floating in the midst of the waters. It was a mage, and the Kraken stood behind him without attacking, as if it feared him, as if it were subservient to him. He wore an alabaster mask with smooth and expressionless features. His cloak, buffeted by the winds, was covered with floral motifs... golden chrysanthemums veined with red. The figure watched the ship sink before disappearing into a violet whirlwind, as if it had never been there, as if it had been just an illusion. And behind him, the Kraken, its eyes gleaming and bloodthirsty, withdrew after the carnage, satisfied with the harm it had caused…

As he struggled against the cold and the sea currents, Afanas saw a metal compartment dragging the stern of the boat down. In a desperate attempt to stop this descent and save his loved ones, he pulled on the coffin, hoping to detach it from the rest of the ship. Afanas put all his strength into it, straining his numb muscles as much as possible. But the metal casket had been damaged by the Kraken's assaults and split in two instead of detaching. A sinuous shadow escaped from it, spiraling around the young man who was gradually losing consciousness. The living shadow sank its talons into Afanas's arms, and he suddenly felt himself soar.

When he regained consciousness, he was lying on a mattress near a crackling fire. A figure leaned over him to examine him and remove the blood-soaked bandages covering the right side of his face. It was an old man who introduced himself as Qaasin. This Yzmir mage had finally routed the Kraken before retrieving the young aspirant's unconscious body. Unfortunately, the rest of the crew, as well as his entire family, had not survived the shipwreck.