The Esoteric Design: Civilization Lost

by A. R. Crebs

  Lita snorted and marched back to her seat.

  “I’Lanthe,” Dovian started. He looked up to catch the violet-eyed woman already taking her place at the podium beside him. “I see you’re eager and prepared.”

  “Yes, sir.” I’Lanthe gave a short bow.

  “And what emotion will you enchant us with today?” he playfully asked.

  A pink shade covered I’Lanthe’s face as she coyly smiled. “An appropriate term, sir. Love.”

  Dovian nodded, chuckling quietly. “You’ve chosen the most difficult of emotions.”

  “I don’t like taking the easy road,” she said, folding and resting her hands on the pedestal. She cleared her throat.

  “Alright. Good luck.” Dovian sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms. He had to admit, I’Lanthe’s subject had him intrigued.

  “What is love?” she began. “It’s a term that has a generalized meaning. Something that has become tainted by overuse, by commercial holidays, an emotion reduced to nothing more than a word. A word, to many, which has become a bored murmur caused by routine. What is love? It’s more than a word, more than a verbal descriptor. It’s a feeling. It’s a passion. It’s an act. It’s the warmth of another body next to yours. It’s the assurance that no matter what, another will always care for you and take you as you are. But how can one truly convey how they love? Love is often paired with a number of emotions. Anxiety, fear, jealousy, insecurity. Happiness, joy, pleasure, and comfort. Love is both sides of the spectrum. It finds the light within the darkness and makes it shine brighter. It brings out the best in many. Sometimes, it brings out the worst.

  Is everyone capable of love? I think so. I don’t believe anyone can truly become lost to darkness and hate. Even at the evilest, one can still love. But what is love to anyone and everyone? To truly understand love, you must break it down. Remember what it is to love. Remember what causes you to love. Sometimes we all need reminding.”

  I’Lanthe eyed Dovian. He listened intently as the class seemed indifferent. Love had been their most recent topic in class; still, nobody but I’Lanthe wanted to touch the subject. In her true fashion, she didn’t settle for explaining one emotion but decided to pair many to back her main subject. She began with the negative emotions. These caused Dovian to withdraw into himself.

  Anxiety, fear, jealousy, insecurity–he had felt them all at one time or another. He was anxious about letting people get too close to him. He was afraid of what one would think when they learned about his powers and how he didn’t have full control over them. He was afraid that if he had ever gotten close to someone else, he’d lose them like he had his mother. Jealousy was one that Dovian hadn’t often thought about, but he could admit that he was sometimes jealous of happy Sorcēarian families. Not just because he hadn’t found himself a wife yet, but because he hadn’t a close connection with his own father. He wished he had a brotherly relationship with his father like all the Gaius men had with one another. Dovian often felt left out. What was it about himself that caused others to push away? Was it merely his powers? Was it the fact that he was the cause of his mother’s death by simply being alive? Dovian’s fears and anxieties about relationships and love made him feel insecure. He was awkward, aloof, and hated to admit that Sorcēarian women could be frightening at times.

  After Dovian’s mind had swirled around the negative emotions mentioned in I’Lanthe’s speech, she brought up the positive sides to love–happiness, joy, pleasure, and comfort. How did these apply to him? Happiness? Dovian hated to admit, even to himself, that he often kept himself from happiness due to his fears and isolation. At what point was he happy? He smirked as he remembered the times his mother let him use the knife to cut the vegetables for their stew. Or any time she taught him anything. Being around his mother brought him a sense of joy and peace. She had been his teacher in all aspects of life, most importantly in love. Elysia loved Dovian with all her heart, so much that she had sacrificed most of her life-force and light to save him as an infant. He reveled in the memory of his mother rocking him in her chair after his evening baths, how she read to him by the fireplace or allowed him to draw pictures in her notebooks. The thought of his mother comforted him. But pleasure? What pleasure had Dovian felt from love? His mother’s cooking was very pleasurable, but that wasn’t necessarily what I’Lanthe meant.

  Dovian suddenly realized that he attributed most of his feelings of love to his mother. What about his past girlfriends? The few failed relationships he had in the past weren’t all that pleasurable as they were painful. Sure, he had some gratifying moments, but they weren’t exactly what he had anticipated. Perhaps it was because he didn’t fully love them as he should have. He doubted he’d ever fully open up to a woman and allow her to know him in a way which they could love each other. His emotions swirled around him, and he began to feel a bit depressed.

  “I’d like to conclude with the words of writer Tadhg Rioradahn.” She paused. “What is happiness?” She looked toward Dovian and caught his forlorn expression. “Is it a laugh? Is it a smile? Or a warm hug on a cold winter’s day?” She paused. “Is it a tear? Is it a cry? Or a word of comfort in a dark time?”

  Her eyes fell to the landscape outside. “What is love? Is it a kiss? Is it a touch? Or is it a breathless scene of beauty? Is it a pain? Is it a want? Or an act of ultimate sacrifice?” She was sure to lock eyes with Dovian. Was I’Lanthe so perceptive that she understood what he was feeling during her speech?

  “And what are happiness and love if we do not experience pain and sadness? Because one without the other cannot exist. Would love be any more precious or rare if everyone felt it and everyone gave it? Would sadness be any more painful if the love did not exist in the first place? What is it that makes us feel things the way we do? Is it a kiss? Is it a touch? Or is it a breathless scene of beauty?” Cocking her head to the side, she diverted her gaze. “Is it a pain? Is it a want? Or an act of ultimate sacrifice?”

  She suddenly straightened her posture and brought her attention to the class. “In the end, it’s a delicate balance. In the end, it’s your choice and your way that decides.”

  The room fell into a sudden awkward silence. I’Lanthe gnawed her lower lip, clasping her hands before her waist. Dovian shook his head, gathering his thoughts.

  “Yes, very good, I’Lanthe. Thank you,” he croaked.

  Her classmates gave a scattered applause.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Well, what?” Dovian replied.

  “Do you have any answers for my questions?”

  “What is love?” he followed.

  She nodded.

  “Love is a very complex emotion as you’ve clearly made us all aware. You can find it in friends, family, and intimate partners. Everybody’s interpretation is different based on their dealings in life. I may define love in a different way than you.” He wrote in his armband, trying to avoid her glimmering eyes.

  “I’d very much like to find out what that definition is for you, sir,” she muttered.

  Dovian lifted his head. I’Lanthe strolled to her desk and quickly took her seat, not looking back at him. Instead, she jotted a few notes in her book. The next student was already well on their way to the podium, and Dovian hadn’t gotten a chance to question the meaning behind her last statement. And now he was slightly embarrassed as heat reddened his face. A few students caught I’Lanthe’s last phrase and were now giggling and whispering to one another. Lita had a smug expression which didn’t help the situation.

  “Would you like for me to begin?” the student at the podium asked.

  I’Lanthe finally looked up. Usually, the young woman fed Dovian a bright smile, but now she gave him a strange cockeyed smirk. That look alone made Dovian’s stomach flip upside down. This girl was far too smart for him. And now he was completely at her mercy.

  “Yes,” Dovian struggled to tear his icy gaze away from I’Lanthe’s. “You may begin.”

  As the next student drawled
on about greed and warfare, Dovian found that he couldn’t stay focused on the words. Instead, he could only think of I’Lanthe’s strange, satisfied smile and her cryptic statement.

  “I’d very much like to find out what that definition is for you, sir.”

  The sound of her voice echoed in his mind. Dovian wondered if she had any previous courses involving the Azure status because he felt bewitched by her words.

  ‘What, exactly, did she mean by that?’ he thought.

  Needless to say, Dovian was useless the remainder of the class. He looked forward to watching his students squirm while giving their speeches. Instead, once again, I’Lanthe had proven to him that he was not fit to be their teacher. Was she testing him, or did she have other motives?

  The bell chimed, a noise to which Dovian was grateful. He rushed home to have a nap before Orin arrived with wine. It was a good idea, but something Dovian could not accomplish as his mind overheated with self-analyzing. What was his definition of love? Why hadn’t he settled in with a wife and had a handful of kids by now? What was it that held him back? And why had I’Lanthe’s speech, which didn’t sound like it was anything particularly special, strike such a chord with him?

  Dovian rolled over in his bed, growling. A low rumble sounded in the distance. Rain was approaching. It usually soothed him, but nothing was helping to calm his nerves.

  “Oh, my dear, what enchantment did you place upon me?” he grumbled.

  He would have to ask I’Lanthe to stay late after the next class period and explain to him what was going on. If she were using spells in the classroom to gain better grades, then Dovian had to put an end to it. Espionage and the power of suggestion were skills not allowed for use outside of Azure-oriented classrooms. I’Lanthe was best friends with Lita, and she had mentioned something along the lines of being a troublemaker so it would make sense if she were using spell work in the classroom.

  “Perhaps I have a little cheater in my class,” Dovian smirked. “Looks like it’s time for a student-teacher conference.”

  “Talking to yourself again?” Orin called out.

  Dovian sat up, rubbing his hair. “Ah! Didn’t hear you come in!”

  Orin held out his hands, a bottle of wine in each. “The door was open!”

  “I wasn’t aware.”

  Orin moved to Dovian’s desk and prepared the wine. “Something on your mind?”

  “Just pondering about some of the speeches from my literary class.” Dovian pushed to his feet and stretched, groaning. “Two bottles?”

  Orin shrugged. “Is that a problem?” He revealed a pair of glasses from the inside of his jacket. Dovian watched him pour the red liquid and then gave a casual shrug. It was a Friday night, why not?

  “Of course it’s not a problem! Plenty to go around!” Lita’s voice interrupted.

  The men looked to the entry of Dovian’s room. Lita held a pair of scissors in one hand. She snipped them a few times and winked.

  “I told you I was going to give you a haircut!” she happily exclaimed.

  “Yes, but I thought you were joking.” Dovian’s posture sagged.

  Orin ruffled his own hair. “You’re not touching my lovely locks!”

  Lita puffed and made her way into the room.

  “I’m actually glad you did stop by, Lita. I had something I wanted to ask you.” Dovian lifted his wine glass.

  “Oooh! I hope it’s something good.” The young woman hopped onto his bed, bouncing.

  “It’s about your friend…” Dovian paused, his blood running cold. I’Lanthe entered behind Lita. She paused in the doorway and gave a small smile in greeting. “Uh, friend’s lizard.” He quickly corrected himself.

  Now that I’Lanthe was in the room, Dovian couldn’t get any private information from Lita about her.

  “Friend’s…lizard?” Lita cocked her head.

  Dovian sipped his wine, making a casual wave to I’Lanthe. “Evening, I’Lanthe.” He slightly bowed his head.

  “Good evening, sir,” she quietly spoke.

  Dovian held a hand toward Orin. “This is Orin, a good friend of mine. Orin, this is I’Lanthe, my student.”

  “Pleasure.” Orin bowed. I’Lanthe returned the gesture.

  “I assume you have a lizard, is that correct?” Dovian asked.

  I’Lanthe nodded. “That I do. For about five years now.”

  “Lita’s had some trouble,” Dovian hesitated, “as you know from her speech in class.”

  I’Lanthe gave a quiet giggle. “Lita has told me all about her problems in your genetics class.”

  “I’m sure she has.” Dovian shot a glare in Lita’s direction. Lita pretended to stare at the ceiling as if it were new to her.

  “Lita and I have been brainstorming, and I think we figured out a way to get her eggs to hatch,” I’Lanthe said.

  Orin stepped forward, catching Dovian’s attention. “Are we going to speak about class all night?”

  Dovian exhaled a laugh. “My apologies. I won’t bore you girls.”

  “Thank you!” Lita rolled her eyes. She snipped the scissors again.

  “I’m afraid I do not have another set of glasses for you girls….” Orin patted his robes. A large, wry smile spread over his face. “But you may most certainly share the second bottle.”

  Before Dovian could protest, Lita hopped to her feet and gratefully accepted Orin’s offer. “No glasses necessary, kind sir! I’Lanthe and I can simply drink straight from the bottle!” She spun, aiming the bottle toward the window. “Bomb’s away!” With a pulse of light, Lita sent the cork spiraling out the window. She then twirled toward her female friend. “Cheers, M’lady!” She took a swig of the wine before passing it to the other woman. I’Lanthe, surprisingly, accepted the bottle and took a rather large drink.

  Catching Orin’s gaping expression, Dovian nudged him. “Don’t get any ideas,” he muttered under his breath.

  Orin’s eyes swirled, looking over the two women. “Too late, my good man.” He noticed Dovian’s tense expression. “Good God! Enjoy yourself for once!”

  “Are we making you uneasy, sir? I would agree that it is odd to share a drink with a professor,” I’Lanthe said with a hint of amusement. She gently brushed a loose curl of dark brown hair behind her ear.

  “He’s not your professor right now. He’s just awkward Dovian.” Lita stole the bottle from I’Lanthe.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable. Don’t take my awkwardness as rudeness.” Dovian gestured toward the bed and then the spare chairs around the room.

  Great. Two students occupied his bedroom on a Friday night with a bottle of wine. He was sure there was a rule about this somewhere in the Sorcēarian educational handbook.

  Orin pulled Dovian into a chair beside him. “Yes, yes. Ignore the old prude. The more, the merrier on a lovely Friday evening.”

  I’Lanthe and Lita took a seat on Dovian’s bed. A roar of thunder growled in the distance.

  “It actually is very lovely,” I’Lanthe said, her violet gaze moving to the open window. “I love thunderstorms. I wish it would rain every day.”

  Orin wrinkled his nose. “Rain every day? No thanks! I do like the occasional storm, but I enjoy the sunlight more.”

  “Yeah, you can’t swim in the rain!” Lita pointed out.

  “You could. You’re going to be wet either way,” I’Lanthe added.

  “And get fried by lightning!” Lita laughed.

  “Yes! That is quite possible! Perhaps swimming in the rain is not such a great idea.”

  “I enjoy the rain as well,” Dovian finally added.

  “I figured you would,” I’Lanthe replied.

  “How so?”

  “Storms are dark. Some find them frightening. There’s a great power within the wind and lightning, yet there are soothing features as well contained in the storm. Rain is refreshing and calming. Some may think storms are destructive, but they are also necessary and beneficial for life to continue. Rain helps the grass and tre
es grow. It creates beautiful things.” She halted and then laughed at Lita who pretended to snore.

  “You already gave your long speech this afternoon, Lanthe. We don’t need another one,” Lita moaned.

  “Alright, alright!” I’Lanthe gently slapped the girl’s shoulder. She grinned at Dovian. “I’ll stop giving speeches.”

  “Anything said in this room will not be graded.” Dovian held his glass to his lips. He hesitated to take a drink, trapped in I’Lanthe’s inquisitive stare. Her violet eyes intrigued him, and he wasn’t sure why.

  ‘Spell work,’ he thought.

  Lita pulled her lavender hair into a ponytail, her thin braids twirling around her head. She casually removed her dress coat and corset and shifted her clothing around. Her dress was much more comfortable without the cinching articles.

  “Ah! I can breathe!” she loudly exhaled.

  I’Lanthe watched the girl for a few seconds as she moved about and adjusted her clothing. The lightning created flickers of light that reflected along the walls of Dovian’s room and played against his glowing irises. In the darkness, the man’s eyes were stunningly bright. Suddenly, I’Lanthe jumped to her feet and did the same as Lita, removing her belts and leaving on her black and violet dress only. The clothing was still form fitting, and it was strange to Dovian, but she looked even more beautiful without the decorative flair she usually wore.

  “Well,” Orin started, “may as well make ourselves more comfortable.” He removed his overcoat. Dovian sighed and followed his actions. It was all becoming a bit silly to him.

  “Okay, Dovian! Time for a haircut!” Lita shouted.

  “You’ve been drinking and have a sharp object. I’m not sure I want you anywhere near my head.” Dovian leaned back into his chair.

  “That’s exactly why I brought Lanthe! She’s much better at this stuff than I am.” Lita pointed the scissors toward the other woman.

  I’Lanthe nodded. “I’ll try my best, sir.”

  “Please. You can call me Dovian. At any time. Sir is far too–”

  “Formal?” I’Lanthe asked.