James Portia Alexander XV
James lay in his bed as he stared at the room around him. The boring room that never changed. Yes, the decorations would periodically shift. Yes, the various servants would rotate out as they catered to his various needs. It was a solitary life.
His only company, the visits of his tutors and parents; he lacked any sort of entertainment in his life. Just time to think and frustration as day after day his body wouldn’t respond.
His perception flowed throughout his body; his legs, while unresponsive, were there. He tried to wiggle his toes, nothing. His perception focused on the soft, silky linen of the bed sheet. Even though confined to his bed, he couldn’t be ungrateful for his accommodations.
His perception flowed past his legs and into his torso. He could feel his chest rise and fall; the air moved slowly in and out with every inhalation of breath. With all his might, he tried to stop breathing. His state didn’t change, ignorant to his mental command, he continued to breath as normal.
He felt every sensation throughout his body, but he lacked the ability to control it. It was a paradigm that greatly concerned him. His stomach was about half full, satiated enough. After all of these eighteen years, he never went hungry. Someho,w the regulated schedule of force feedings came at the exact time necessary to prevent his extended suffering.
His mind meandered over to his heart, and he counted.
“Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty. Okay, a good stable fifty beats per minute. About average.” He thought to himself. He compared the measurements to a chart hovering within his mind. Adding the new data to a table, he continued his probe.
His arms and fingers had the same results as his lower body. They were all unresponsive.
“All seems in order,” James said within his mind. He did not know why he talked to himself, but it was a habit he had picked up after years within his mental fortress.
He had one last component to inspect. He paused for a minute and concentrated. His ability probed through the neurons in his head. While his neurons and synapses were fine, the base of his brain, right where his nerves went into the rest of his body, there was an anomally. Like always, the weird siphon was clinging to the base of his neck. The thing he most suspected caused his limited interaction with his body and the rest of the world.
While it allowed all sensory input into his brain, it only blocked him, the conscious portion of his mind. It did not affect the subconscious outputs that ran in the background of his nervous system. It was a puzzle he had been trying to figure out since he found himself in this strange mental realm, which had basically been his entire life. Still, there was not much more to do than observe.
The only upside to his condition is that sitting here had allowed him to hone his senses. Lying down, while he stared at the white netted canopy hanging over his bed, he could see the entire room around him. He could even see the entirety of the eastern wing of the palace. His perception also pierced a good ways outside of the main building.
He observed the caretakers prune the last of the spring flowers. The meandering brooks as they babbled throughout the grounds, as the water flowed between the static ponds. It was a relatively recent improvement after having spent eighteen years confined to his chambers.
He had only been able to sense the world outside of his room for a few years now. Being awake for the entirety of his existence, he had ample time to dwell within the massive library and archive of the Alexanders.
He was grateful family had not given up on him. Everyone but the rudest of the servants treated him with care. Most recognizable was Gunther, the butler who brought him his meals and cleaned him. While he was rough with a sponge, he made sure James lay in the utmost shape. He also told boring, but pleasant, stories of his young grandchildren.
There was also Unthilda, the maid who was responsible for dressing him and cleaning his room. She did not hold her tongue. James suspected she didn’t quite believe he was within his body as the gossip she spread with the staff in his room was varied. However scandalous her stories were, he could tell she meant well to the family as a whole.
The day in question was a relaxed, peaceful day for James. While still drab by other people’s standards, but for him it's not too bad. It had turned out to be very, very stale. That was until he sensed an unfamiliar woman appear at the edge of the eastern wing. She humphed through the corridors as several servants led her his way.
He froze. Well, as much as he could have frozen, given his current state. A new person in the eastern wing was unheard of. This was the residential wing; only family and servants of the direct household were allowed this way.
Something felt familiar about this woman’s face. In combination, her aura resonated with the palace, as if she belonged. She felt similar to his father and grandparents, although her aura seemed a tier weaker; it had a lower density to match.
With a thought, his perception was across the wing and in his father's study. He searched, and in mere moments, he found the family tree. At one of the lower branches, next to that of his father’s, was a photo of this woman. It had been years since he studied the family tree, so it wasn’t surprising that in the massive collection of portraits, there was a face of a much younger version of the woman.
He focused on the entourage as she went through his door and then next to his bedside. She had a robust figure. She wore an ornate dress, the opposite of the usual servant attire he had grown accustomed. There was a youthful look to her, given her age, and a striking resemblance to his father. Regal and poised, an aura of refinement and control cascaded around her, filling the room.
He waited to see what had brought her to his room. She stared at him for a brief moment. He could see a look of pity turn into one of sorrow. She reached down and brushed her hand across his cheek.
“Oh dear.” She said. A tear fell from her eye and rolled down her face before it landed on the sheet beside him. She reached out and brushed her hand along his cheek. “I wish things could have been different for you. For the world around you is so vibrant, and you have been trapped like a bird in a cage.”
With that contact, his sense of the world changed. The out of body perception that he had grown accustomed to over his life was gone. He couldn’t see the world in vivid color, nor complex shape. The multispectral wavelengths of light were inaccessible.
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He didn't see the faces of the servants around him. Even his normal eyesight was gone, the white canopy of his bed subsumed by a black void. At the edge of the room, six bright pin pricks of light glowed. The only thing he could sense, they felt familiar. He orientated onto the one closest to the door.
It had a hoity air to it, someone who had great confidence in themselves and had command over people. There was a smugness to its texture, like a rough, lumpy feeling. He did not know why he associated those two concepts together. But it just felt right. He read contention and worry from this point. And then, like cogs churning in a wheel, he realized. This was Gunter, his head butler.
It was an odd sensation, but after a few moments, his vision returned to normal. He still saw the set of lights at the edge of the room, overlayed onto the servants who were watching the scene unfold. There was also one more, his aunt, standing next to his bed.
In addition to his normal perception, in the distance, multitudes of points meandered their way throughout the grounds and the interior of the palace. These were the servants and the gardeners.
He gathered the sense of the general atmosphere of the palace. The texture was like wading through deep, murky water. He didn’t know how he had connected to that concept, as he had never done such a thing. He was growing increasingly curious,
“Aunt Marcy?” James said hesitantly within his perceptual realm. He could see a different version of the woman standing before him. Although her actual body was leaning over him, her hand resting on his forehead, this version stood poised with grace.
“You’re, you’re alive?” She asked in an anxious whisper. Unable to talk through this strange realm, her voice answered aloud. The eyes of all the servants fixated on the two. Their faces were of shock, and for a few, discerning horror.
“Yes,” he replied in her mind. Once more. “I have been aware of myself for thirteen years now.”
It took a moment for her reply to come.
“This wasn’t supposed to be a way to communicate.” She said, dumbfounded.
“It’s not?” He asked. “When your power interacted with me. I was drawn into this black void. All I could make out were these pinpricks of light. I eventually associated with the people in this room. And when I focused on you standing next to my bed, this version of you appeared within my mind's eye.”
As he said this, her face paled. The servants in the room leaned to look at the rare change of expression. It contradicted long standing reputation.
“Don’t worry, Aunt Marcy.” He said. “I agree with your plan. Even if it’s a risk to my safety, I must journey to the island of gods and then to the city of miracles. Also, tell my family I love them. Just in case this is a one-time phenomenon. I am very thankful for them all.”
His aunt met his eyes as she thought. Just how was this possible? She could read him, but how did he know she was there? Only she had the Soul Touch, and yet, somehow, he could read her emotions just as she could get a sense of his. More so, he somehow had a better grasp on the ability than she herself. He was able to communicate mentally.
“You are alive in there. You are actually conscious.” She said. The servants around the room exchanged a glance. Not everyone had been particularly nice to him over the years. “More specifically, how can you sense my intentions No. How can you read my thoughts?”
“I do not know.” The boy replied in her mind. “Over the years, I have only been able to observe. I can sense my body, mind, and spirit, but something is preventing me from interacting with the physical world. Maybe this mental existence has allowed me to understand the mind deeper than most?”
“But still, I am the only person in generations of our family to have power similar to the Soul Touch. How can you have the same power as me? You described it in detail. Have you always been able to read others in this manner?” She replied out loud. A servant fainted. Her legs buckled as she slid against the wall and onto the floor.
“No. I have only ever been able to sense the world around me, not see inside the minds of others. This is new to me as well.” He replied.
“This is the most I’ve ever read from a person,” Marcy said. “Normally, I can only see one's soul and basic intentions. I can even read their emotions. But I have never seen such a complex assimilation of minds. I have never been able to discern thoughts.” She replied.
“I do not understand. Is this not how your power works?” James asked. He now pondered for a moment.
He didn’t always have this mindful view, body scan, or even his perception. These events he associated with being isolated within his mind for nearly two decades. However, he now suspected, especially after this incident, that perhaps he had picked up these powers from some other means.
His mother was known for her supreme body control and the ability to produce miraculous feats. How had he not realized? His father was able to perceive the world for miles around him, utilizing an aura-like power. So then, where did the mind ability come from? Was that his magic?
“When you were born.” His aunt said into the silence. “Your parents asked me for a favor. After a few weeks, when you could not move, I conducted a reading of you. I, as a medium, could understand and see things that would normally be left unseen to ones eyes and senses. When I met you that day eighteen years ago, you had no abilities, nor a keen mind. How can this be?” His aunt said.
James's mind churned with these revelations. If the power had not been genetic, given to him at birth. They must have occurred due to something else. Without knowing, his keen mind ability began to overclock his brain. His mind leapt from conjecture to conjecture.
As far as he remembered, he always had his mental space. Even though his memories only go back to the age of five, his ability seems to have predated them. And yet his aunt had said he did not have this keen mind when he was born. There is a theory that could explain this outcome of events.
The last king of Portia had an ability that was world renowned. He had the power befitting of a monarch. He saw every inch of his land. He could understand the wills and wishes of his people. He could summon strength beyond the limits of a thousand-thousand soldiers.
It was unknown to public circles, but within the alexander archives, James had found that the last king, Alexis Portia, built his empire not on his strength but on the intelligence of his brother, Typhus Portia Alexander.
As large as the continent of Lorentz was, Typhus utilized his keen mind to aid his brother in the subjugation of its entire eastern half. This was the largest continent in the entirety of the known world. This world-renowned strategist who just so happened to be James’s grandfather. Even though he died nearly at the time of the birth, he had held his young, motionless grandson on his deathbed.
Was it simply contact? That was what triggered this seeming evolution now. His aunt brushed her hand along his cheek, and then suddenly he had a new sense. It wasn’t an extreme shift; the next moment, he had clarity of soul.
He perceived a world that had been unknown to him before. Sensed the soul of the woman that was before him. He could feel her intentions, saw into her mind. Around her, a brilliant aura of rose red had come to life.
“I do not know,” James said within this mental world.
“While it is troubling, there isn’t much we can do.” She replied. “I will inform your parents of this conversation. It will be their decision whether or not you go.”
With slight hesitation, she pulled her hand away. James tried to say one last goodbye, but it appeared as if the woman could no longer hear him. He could still sense the souls of those around him. He even understood the feeling of hope swelling within Gunter.
Now that she was gone, James felt an emptiness he had never felt before. It was as if he was missing something, a chasm he never knew was there, social interaction. He started the beginning of a plan.
