His breath came in sharp gasps, glassy eyes flicking open as his lungs struggled to fill themselves with the stagnant air of the castle. He felt the individual stones of the ground brushing the rough, grimy skin of his cheek as he struggled to move, shifting his weight back and forth in a desperate desire to rise from the cold floor beneath him. Where was he? Why had he come here? All of those memories lie swirling in flux within the cavernous recesses of his addled mind as he recovers from what he could only assume was yet another bout of his consciousness giving way to that silent killer that spread it's filthy roots inside of him further and further with every passing dawn.
Madness.
Janus Carrux had once been known as perhaps the most prodigious mind-mage in all of Arethil, having come from humble beginnings of being raised in a city of slavery to being appointed one of the three heads of Trastus Academy for Magic. Trastus was built as a settlement for aspiring mages, founded by Leorn Trastus in 348. Its crowning achievement, the Trastus Academy for Magic, was non-profit. It instructed any who were willing to adhere to its rules, and who demonstrated some level of talent. Having graduated at the very top of his own class, the then-young Janus had opted to remain in Trastus to instruct the next generation. The place was his home, and he wanted to see it thrive...
So then what had left him here, lying naked and cold on the floor of his bedroom, perched atop the tower which had once been under his protection, had been his responsibility to teach and mentor? He could scarcely find the torn scraps of the memories anymore; they seemed to flutter and evade him like butterflies.
No, even his own dwindling was not an excuse to forget his sins. The state of this place, the desolation of Trastus and it's academy... it was all his doing. Despite the disgust it brought to the back of his throat, he knew that it was also one of the only constant thoughts that allowed him to maintain hold of his dwindling mind. The guilt that wracked his body every moment of every day was a tether that held him to reality. Now, as the man rose to his feet at last upon wobbly legs, the sun began to peek through the stained glass window over his bed that he'd thrown himself from.
Daylight.
Collecting himself, he collected a small bit of clothing, a simple black linen shirt with trousers to match, before he threw the heavy black robe folded neatly at his bedside over his shoulders to wrap around his form. Even in it's current state, Janus, or Orion as he now referred to himself as saw to it that the very basic of maintenance and upkeep was maintained in Trastus. This place, cursed empty as it was, was his home.
It was all that he had.
Exiting his champers, he stepped out into the central room of the tower. The tower had several classrooms, his personal library, a laboratory, and of course Orion's chambers. The base of the tower was a circular sitting area, and the walls were lined carefully with a staircase that ran up the length of the tower, and one could make it outdoors at several points along the way up. There were three towers, entered through the room joining them at the bottom, known as The Hall of Reflection. Each of the three towers was under the instruction of one of the three Heads of Trastus. the Tower of Orion, was the leftmost and most well-maintained tower by far, even in comparison to the Hall of Reflection, which itself had seen better days; It was a large domed room, with walls of dull gray with a circular platform raised in its center. Lights that seemed to glow without fire hung from the walls, activating in response to Orion's presence. Bookshelves sat against the walls disheveled, tattered banners hung from the roof, and the air was dead silent. In addition to various small passageways snaking out in several other directions, there were three doors out of this main area behind said platform, each spread a distance apart enough from each other to make one assume they each led to one of the three towers.
Now, Orion opened the tall ebony doors leading out of the academy, the moss-covered stone streets and dilapidating homes and shops greeting his gaze along with the sunlight that had brought him home from slumber. He expected nothing different, nothing happened in Trastus anymore. Those who hadn't been here when his sin had been committed had heard of it from those who had, and word had spread about this place.
This town, this academy, was both a home and a prison. How very fitting.
Madness.
Janus Carrux had once been known as perhaps the most prodigious mind-mage in all of Arethil, having come from humble beginnings of being raised in a city of slavery to being appointed one of the three heads of Trastus Academy for Magic. Trastus was built as a settlement for aspiring mages, founded by Leorn Trastus in 348. Its crowning achievement, the Trastus Academy for Magic, was non-profit. It instructed any who were willing to adhere to its rules, and who demonstrated some level of talent. Having graduated at the very top of his own class, the then-young Janus had opted to remain in Trastus to instruct the next generation. The place was his home, and he wanted to see it thrive...
So then what had left him here, lying naked and cold on the floor of his bedroom, perched atop the tower which had once been under his protection, had been his responsibility to teach and mentor? He could scarcely find the torn scraps of the memories anymore; they seemed to flutter and evade him like butterflies.
No, even his own dwindling was not an excuse to forget his sins. The state of this place, the desolation of Trastus and it's academy... it was all his doing. Despite the disgust it brought to the back of his throat, he knew that it was also one of the only constant thoughts that allowed him to maintain hold of his dwindling mind. The guilt that wracked his body every moment of every day was a tether that held him to reality. Now, as the man rose to his feet at last upon wobbly legs, the sun began to peek through the stained glass window over his bed that he'd thrown himself from.
Daylight.
Collecting himself, he collected a small bit of clothing, a simple black linen shirt with trousers to match, before he threw the heavy black robe folded neatly at his bedside over his shoulders to wrap around his form. Even in it's current state, Janus, or Orion as he now referred to himself as saw to it that the very basic of maintenance and upkeep was maintained in Trastus. This place, cursed empty as it was, was his home.
It was all that he had.
Exiting his champers, he stepped out into the central room of the tower. The tower had several classrooms, his personal library, a laboratory, and of course Orion's chambers. The base of the tower was a circular sitting area, and the walls were lined carefully with a staircase that ran up the length of the tower, and one could make it outdoors at several points along the way up. There were three towers, entered through the room joining them at the bottom, known as The Hall of Reflection. Each of the three towers was under the instruction of one of the three Heads of Trastus. the Tower of Orion, was the leftmost and most well-maintained tower by far, even in comparison to the Hall of Reflection, which itself had seen better days; It was a large domed room, with walls of dull gray with a circular platform raised in its center. Lights that seemed to glow without fire hung from the walls, activating in response to Orion's presence. Bookshelves sat against the walls disheveled, tattered banners hung from the roof, and the air was dead silent. In addition to various small passageways snaking out in several other directions, there were three doors out of this main area behind said platform, each spread a distance apart enough from each other to make one assume they each led to one of the three towers.
Now, Orion opened the tall ebony doors leading out of the academy, the moss-covered stone streets and dilapidating homes and shops greeting his gaze along with the sunlight that had brought him home from slumber. He expected nothing different, nothing happened in Trastus anymore. Those who hadn't been here when his sin had been committed had heard of it from those who had, and word had spread about this place.
This town, this academy, was both a home and a prison. How very fitting.
