Ar'Kendrithyst

As the sky turned red and purple with the oncoming night, nine Ophiels, bloomed out to their full three meter height, blipped into the Crystal Forest west of the shadeling city of Candlepoint. They flew in formation, over the sands, making their way forward. They held under their control floating platforms laden with stone boxes, full of marquise-cut rads that shimmered under the sunset, cloudless sky.

The gates of Candlepoint were not there; this city was always open to whoever wanted inside. Guards in dark armor stood to the sides of the open space, but they were not there for actual defense, except from the occasional wandering mimic. The guards were there for show. Upon seeing Ophiel’s flight, two of the guards quickly ducked into the buildings beyond the gate. By the time Ophiel had flown forward another ten meters closer, another person had taken to standing on the sands, in the center of the open gate. She had white hair, horns, and skin, while her grey robes fluttered gently in the slight wind. It was hard to mistake Justine Erholme for anyone else than herself.

Erick flew closer to Justine, to the gate, taking his time, not wanting to appear threatening. For the guards’ part, they formed up, shifting from a casual stance of leaning against the gate walls and talking with each other, to standing tall and in formation to Justine’s sides. All of the guards looked more or less the same, but one of them was shorter than the rest. As Erick neared, he recognized the short guard. It was that Irkil human kid. Erick smiled to himself, happy that the kid had gotten into the Guard. Even if it was an emotional trick, it was still a nice emotion.

Erick restrained eight of his Ophiel to hover where they were, while moving closer with the leader and a platform full of cargo. He said, “Hello, Justine.”

Justine held her hands in front of her, one clasped to the other. She stood stiffly tall, but her eyes were happy, and the slight upturn of her lips almost seemed to betray her joy. “Greetings, Archmage Flatt.”

Now that Erick was closer, he saw the unabashed smiles on the faces of the other guards, as they tried and failed to hold their proper stances on the sand. But then the air filled with a weird buzzing, and every single shadeling stood in perfect form, smiles gone, joy erased. Or rather, held back?

Yes, yes. The buzzing was Bulgan making himself known. Erick could barely bring himself to care about that asshole. What did he want now?

A shadow formed out of Justine’s own, then stepped up into the light, revealing the asshole himself, in full, smug, assholishness. Dark skin, black hair, black horns, Bulgan smiled wide, revealing white teeth. His bright, wholly white eyes seemed to glow brighter as he spoke with a predatory mien, “Hello, Erick.”

Erick kept his words perfunctory, through the [Prestidigitation] projection of his voice, “Hello, Bulgan.”

Bulgan stood on the tips of his toes for a second, then pantomimed looking off into the distance, with one hand held flat across his forehead to shade his sight from the sun. “Oh my! Such a haul you have!” He dropped the slight act, and said, “Standard rate!” He nudged Justine with his shoulder, saying, “You’ve done pretty good securing his support. Do you think it’s enough to get him to turn to our side in the coming war?”

Justine was white-skinned, but Erick was sure he saw her pale, further.

Erick ignored Bulgan, saying to Justine, “I’ve got it all split into thousand mana boxes. This is only the first shipment—”

With a near-casual reach into the air, like he was picking up a grapefruit from a grocery story display, Bulgan grabbed a sword that had not been there, and planted it into the guts of a nearby guard. The guard crashed to the ground, as the meter-long length of shadow vanished into nothing. Blood gushed, as the guard died.

Erick lost all train of thought.

Bulgan plucked another length of shadow from the air, saying, “I told you before, Erick. Don’t ignore—”

At that moment, as a man who might have been a ploy died on the ground, Erick knew he was going to do something. He wasn’t quite sure what his action would be, until it happened. So it surprised him just as much as it surprised Bulgan, when Erick cast [Shadow Shape] and [Telekinesis], grabbing the length of shadow in Bulgan’s hand, right before it entered Justine’s skull, just above her ear. Brief surprise crossed Bulgan’s face, as he smiled, seeming to flicker his fully white eyes between the sword and Ophiel. He let go of the sword. It remained hovering where Bulgan left it to hover.

Erick had tried to telekinetically control the conjured weapons of another, well before today. Sparring with Kiri gave him a lot of experience in that regard. Telekinetically controlling something already in the control of another was a very difficult thing to do. Erick had only managed the feat in his spars with Kiri, when Kiri’s grip had been less than perfectly secure.

Bulgan’s grip had been secure. It should not have been that easy to stop his sword.

And once the sword was out of Bulgan’s control, Erick should have been able to move it away from Justine, but he couldn’t. The length of shadow was stuck in the air, where Bulgan had let it go.

Justine, for her part, stood strong, unflinching, while a trace of red trickled through her white hair, to travel down her ear, where it collected like a ruby earring before dropping onto her grey robes. She did not move, or betray a single thought about repositioning. Frozen in fear, or perfectly in control of her own actions, or under the control of another, Erick could not tell.

The wind howled in Ophiel’s ears, while blood pumped in Erick’s, all the way back in Spur.

Bulgan slowly smiled, wider and wider. He stepped back. He laughed. Then he whirled around and slammed his fist like a great hammer against the hilt of his still-hovering sword, driving it—

A hint of spider-like magic zipped out of Ophiel, striking the sword, cracking it from the inside out, shattering the conjured weapon into shadow-crawling fragments that spread in every direction. Bulgan whiffed on his hit, striking nothing but air, as dark [Spell Breaker] spiders exploded across his face, and across the rest of him. The unnatural darkness of his skin and clothes flickered and faded, briefly revealing purple incani hues and fine, dark fabrics, before shadows crawled back over him.

Bulgan laughed loud, then stepped back, setting one foot behind the other while spreading his arms and hands down to his sides, open palmed, like the magnanimous loser of an inconsequential series of events. He smiled. He said, “Expect a test every time you arrive.”

Bulgan vanished into shadows.

At that moment Erick knew he had failed one test, but passed another. Bulgan had let him gain slight telekinetic control over the sword, but Erick had certainly dispelled the conjuring.

Three things rapidly happened. The guards next to their fallen companion dropped down to their fallen companion, holding onto him as they shouted at him, trying to bring the redscaled man back from the dead. But the man was not dead. Justine moved down to the man, flaring white light, holding a glowing palm to the fallen.

Other guards stepped back, giving Justine space. One held onto his dying friend, turning him onto his back to aid Justine’s healing spells. The small hole that Bulgan had made through the redscale’s armor, into his chest and out the back, healed over; pale red scales covering pale red flesh. Justine kept her healing light on the man, until he coughed loudly, sputtering blood across Justine’s face. But she didn’t care. The dragonkin breathed deep. His friends helped him upward, as Justine pulled back, the white glow of her hands fading as she moved away.

Erick wasn’t sure where his mind was right now, when he offered, “Does he need rads? He can have a box if he wants.”

Justine flinched. Then she reoriented. She stood straight, then bowed to Erick, saying, “Thank you for saving this one’s life.” She stood up.

“Speaking like that makes me think you’re not really yourself.”

Justine flinched again, as though struck. She said, “Apologies. I… I can see how you could think that. This was merely how I was raised to speak to my betters.”

Erick was not, at all, in the mood to correct anyone’s thinking, but it had to be said, so he said, “I’m not your better.” Erick said, “But we’re all better than the Shades, though I don’t think I need to tell you that. Not when one of them tried to kill you just now.”

Justine remained silent, as her grey eyes seemed to whirl as her mind turned with unsaid thoughts.

The impaled dragonkin-shadeling had been moved into the shade behind the gate while Erick and Justine spoke. He rested on a stone bench, just outside of the sunset light. He seemed to be doing better now that he was in the deeper shadows. His breathing evened out, anyway.

Erick pointed a few of Ophiel’s eyes toward the man, asking again, “Does he need some rads to properly heal? I don’t know how this works for your people.”

Justine said, “Uh.” She clarified, “Yes. Uh. He could use some, I’m sure. Rads help the healing process.” She added, “Um.”

Ophiel raised a wing, and a stone box lifted from the floating platform behind. Erick moved the box forward, setting it down on the other side of the gate, next to the recovering man. The dragonkin then picked up a rad, nodded toward Ophiel, and crushed a stone in his palm. He breathed deep, inhaling an almost imperceptible white glow. He breathed easier. When he opened his palm, the rad was gone; not even dust remained.

Erick turned Ophiel to Justine, saying, “I’ve got about 18,000 boxes to give. Each one has 1000 mana worth of rads inside, give or take a bit.”

Justine said, “Right away.” She glanced to the guards at her sides. They moved out.

Erick moved his squadron closer and set the stone boxes down on the sands outside of the gate. But what he had brought was not the full count of his loot. Ophiels blipped away, then came back with even more stone boxes. It wasn’t long till the haul of two separate Ballooning Spider incursion laid in front of Candlepoint; boxes upon boxes upon boxes. Guards moved with swiftness, telekinetically picking up fifteen to twenty boxes at a time, forming an assembly line to move them into the deep shadows inside the guard stations behind both sides of the gate. Rads went into the darkness, but only the boxes themselves came back out.

Erick dismantled most of the discarded stone boxes back into sand, which he scattered to the land outside of the gate, but he kept some stone boxes for the guards to have a place to deposit his darkchips. It was 1500 darkchips to a box, according to Erick’s correct calculations. The currency of Candlepoint was much smaller than rads, after all. A darkchip was only about a square centimeter large.

While that was happening, Erick asked Justine about the city. Casual questions, about the state of things. Justine answered as honestly as she seemed able to answer. Candlepoint was doing much better with the food he had provided. They had even taken some of the beans and used [Grow] to have a few strains of spicy beans, and salty beans, and savory beans, in order to flavor the rice and beans that everyone was eating these days. They were still growing vegetables with their water gathering runes, too, but Erick’s donation had cleared up all of their immediate problems.

Erick approved. When he was done moving rads out for the guards to pick up, he dismissed an Ophiel on site and conjured another one at home, to gather up some vegetables from his own garden. Carrot vines, tomatoes, corn, potatoes, and a whole bunch of spices, went into a simple stone gift basket. He gave those vegetables to Justine and refused further payment when Justine offered extra darkchips.

Time passed, and Erick certainly noticed the people sticking around down the way, at the intersection of where this gate’s street led into the main street. Some of them eyed the stone boxes full of darkchips. Some of them openly gaped at the glittering rads just outside of the city. But not a single one moved into the area. Everyone stayed away. A few inquisitive [Scry] eyes appeared over the haul, but every Ophiel popped those after two or three seconds, ensuring that whoever was viewing the scene was aware enough to not blip into the area. That would have gone poorly, Erick was sure. He certainly didn’t need any extra drama, either. Whoever needed to blip in could just use one of Candlepoint’s other gates.

It took the guards half an hour to fully accept Erick’s exchange. By the time the last floating box disappeared into the shadows of the guard house, the sky was full dark. Stars shone above, while the moons crested the horizon, but the city of Candlepoint was a riot of colored lights bright enough to drown out the heavens.

Erick had already moved 11 darkchip-full stone boxes to another location, under the sands outside of Spur. One box remained beside the Ophiel at Candlepoint. He looked down at the final black-filled box, as the last guard tossed the final handful of darkchips inside.

With a smile that had only grown larger as rads disappeared into shadows, Justine asked, “Erick, sir?” She had also gotten used to using his name, because Erick had told her to use his name no less than three times. “Are you going to purchase anything from the Crystal?”

“No.” Erick didn’t mention how he was absolutely sure that those items were traps. He had already said it once. He didn’t feel like repeating himself.

Justine tried a different tactic. “I can show you how every item works, if you wish?”

“No.” He said to Justine. “Tell me: What would happen to you if I decide to never come here again?”

Justine paused. “… If I have given offense—”

“That is not it, and you know it.” Erick said, “Besides. The next time I show up Bulgan might actually kill you. Or any number of other people.”

Justine said, “My duty is to my people. If I were not here, I would be casting myself dry in the garden houses, bringing sustenance to others, and helping those who are still trying to regain themselves.”

Erick hated himself for falling for this trap, but he asked anyway, “Valok. The man who was here last time. Where is he?”

Justine said, “If it is your wish, I will ensure he stays out of your sight, but I will not end the man. He fell down a dark path after the events of our previous encounter but he is gradually regaining his sense of self, immersed in the green, as he is accustomed.”

That was fine. He could stay away from Erick, for now. Probably forever.

“I’m not giving you rain on any schedule, but I can give you clouds and natural rainy weather, likely for days at a time. If no one [Dispel]s it, of course.” Erick asked, “Do you want that?”

“Yes,” Justine said, with no hesitation. “I have already spoken to others who have a modicum of power in Candlepoint. Water Season is a month away, but we need water now. We wish for this bounty, Erick. We will accept anything you are willing to give.”

With Ophiel’s many eyes, Erick looked to the sky over Candlepoint. He pulsed [Control Weather], throwing a thousand mana into the spell, adjusting the ambient northern wind into something less violent, calling down moisture in the atmosphere.

There was one thing Erick had learned, more than most, when he had been reading about the weather systems of the Crystal Forest: there was more than enough water in the sky and under the ground to turn this land green from the Wall of the Wasteland Kingdoms in the west, all the way to the Mondariska Mountains in the east. But the mimics were a plague in more ways than one. Their rage against the green ensured no plants grew, ensuring a vicious cycle where the desert remained a desert, as long as the mimics lived.

The Cloud Giants in their invisible Castles in the sky were another problem, with their innate cloudshaping abilities stripping everything that coalesced above, but they seemed to Erick a minor issue compared to what the mimics had done, and continued to do. For the most part, the Cloud Giants liked to be left alone; they had never bothered Spur in all of Erick’s rains.

Knowing all of that, knowing how much water there truly was up there, it wasn’t that much of a problem for Erick to get the sky to cloud over, and for an unnatural rain cycle to be enforced upon an unnatural world.

The harsh northern wind went silent. Cold wind turned warmer. The night sky began to change. First came wispy stretches of darkness high in the sky that seemed to blot out a few stars here and there, but do nothing else. Those splashes of growing moisture turned into ethereal clouds that roiled upon themselves, before growing large enough that the colored lights of Candlepoint began to reflect back upon the city. From horizon to horizon, clouds moved in.

Candlepoint brightened in reflected wardlight. The city no longer looked like a stretch of unnatural darkness, layered in glows, but instead like a comfy holiday decoration. It was still half made of black and the other half made of rainbows, so Erick had no idea where he got the ‘holiday decoration’ from, but that’s what it seemed like to him.

But it wasn’t enough. So Erick moved most of his squadron of Ophiel out into every direction, blipping them into appropriate locations as he recast the spell in a dozen different Super Large Areas. His control over the weather expanded, several fold. Clouds moved in. A quiet storm began to form.

The Ophiel remaining by Justine just watched the sky, as clouds turned dense.

A soft rain began to fall.

Erick said, “That should remain for a while, changing on circumstance. Less rain in the day, clouds all the time, though. Daytime shadeling craziness might be lessened. Same goes for night time. I don’t know, though. [Dispel] it if it becomes a problem.”

Justine looked up into the rain, smiling as droplets ran down her face. She breathed, and breathed, and seemed more than happy. She was having a moment. Nearby guards laughed a little, as they tapped the dampening sand with their feet. Some of them opened their mouths to taste the rain. The main street, down the way, had gone quiet as night came on and the safety of sunset passed. But as rain began to fall, the shadelings down the road had stopped and stared at the sky, while the few adventurers in sight had grown even more wary of the changing atmosphere of the streets.

In the small alleyways between the gate and the main road, shadelings poked out from the shadows, looking up, holding out their hands to catch raindrops. They touched their faces and their ragged clothes. One industrious young shadeling man stripped right there, washing his torn, dirty shirt in a quickly gathering puddle.

Erick said, “I don’t know how bad disease is going to get, but if you guys don’t have [Cleanse], then you’re probably fucked. I don’t know how to help you with that.”

“Mephistopheles has managed to survive and thrive. He has gained slight actual control of the Garrison.” Justine said, “He requested of the Clergy that he be allowed to offer smaller quests than the main monster board. They approved. Now, we have a minor influx of [Cleanse] wands, every day.”

Erick turned back to Justine. “You’re probably going to have to change your city’s architecture. Gutters and sewers or whatever. You can gather water and grow your own food, now.”

Justine faced Ophiel. She put on a professional face, as she bowed, saying, “Thank you, Archmage.” She straightened. She was smiling. “Thank you, Erick.”

Erick said, “Good luck integrating into society. Hopefully you’re not actually monsters.”

Justine bowed again, smaller and quicker than before. “Thank you for your assistance in getting this far. I am sure we can live up to your hopes, while proving your fears unfounded.”

“I’ll make sure to keep the weather wet.” He had Ophiel pick up his last box of darkchips with a Handy Aura, saying, “I won’t be appearing for a while, if I can help it. I don’t want to put the people here in danger if Bulgan decides to be an asshole again.”

Justine bowed. The nearby guards bowed, too.

Ophiel blipped away, to another part of the Crystal Forest. Erick had to get away from that before it turned even more uncomfortable than it already was.

The sky was clear above him, but behind, dark clouds roiled on the still wind.

Ophiel blipped a few more times, then deposited the stone box in the appropriate part of the Crystal Forest, before dispersing himself. Erick wasn’t about to bring those chips home with him.

Erick came back to himself. The Ophiel on his shoulder twittered in a mix of violins, guitars, and harps.

Eduard’s voice sounded, ‘Able to talk?’

‘Yes.’ He sent, ‘Come on over.’

- - - -

Maia Rokva sat next to her brother, Eduard Rokva, on the couch of the sunroom, while Ramizi Fieldsend took a side chair, next to Eduard. They looked okay; healthy. That was Erick’s primary concern, right now. He had seen them in the background briefly while he was dealing with Bulgan, but they were not there afterward. Erick felt a heavy relief upon seeing them in person. But how were they, mentally? They had been testing out Candlepoint’s offerings for the Headmaster, and they had gone back to Oceanside every day to get tested to make sure they were still themselves. But were they still truly okay? Maia’s yellow hair was bright, like her blue eyes, but there was a darkening of her features that hinted at deep worries. Eduard was much the same as his sister. Ramizi was the only one without a worry on his face, or in his posture.

Poi had directed them to sit in the sunroom and cleared them for contact. After Poi drew the curtains shut, closing off any potential spies from outside, Erick walked into the room.

He took his seat across from the Mage Trio, saying, “Hello, Maia, Eduard, Ramizi.” As they nodded and Eduard almost said something, but Erick looked to Ramizi, asking, “Why do you look okay, while Maia and Eduard look sad?”

Eduard frowned, turning away from Ramizi, as Ramizi suddenly flinched.

Ramizi turned to Eduard, whispering, “What? But you said—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Eduard faced Erick more fully, saying, “Apologies, archmage.”

Ramizi glared at Eduard.

Maia looked to Erick, cutting off all building anger between her brother and her brother’s boyfriend, by saying, “It is a personal matter of some annoyance, and while your concern is appreciated, it is not needed or desired in order to resolve this internal dispute.”

Ramizi was having none of that, and said, “What the fuck, guys?”

“We’re not doing this,here,” Maia said.

“Fine,” Ramizi said, looking away from Maia and Eduard.

Eduard remained silent.

After a moment longer, Erick said, “I would be sorry for stepping into that, but I am not. What happened, and is it strategically significant?”

“It is strategically important,” Eduard said, but stopped there.

Ramizi frowned at no one in particular.

“Fine. I guess we are doing this.” Maia quickly explained, “In the course of exploring Candlepoint for the Headmaster, the Headmaster offered us the task to purchase and use a Stat fruit. The three of us decided to accept the opportunity. The three of us also decided that once it happened and a day passed, whoever got it would go to the Registrar and get rid of it.”

“We flipped some coins.” Eduard said. “Ramizi got picked.”

“I see...” Erick turned toward Ramizi. “Do you feel compelled to keep it?”

“Looks like,” Maia said, as Eduard said, “He does.”

“Guys!” Ramizi said, collapsing a little. Then he sat up straight, putting on a brave face, reporting, “20 Intelligence means 20% reduced spell costs. If there is a further multiplier at that level, like Clarity, the Headmaster’s dictionary attack has not revealed that skill. But it could still be there! It doesn’t matter if it counts after every other count. It still ends up being a lot of saved mana.” He said, “In addition to that, and further confirming the Headmaster’s idea of how Intelligence works, I made the first tier seven spell I could ever cast, yesterday. Intelligence lets me make better spells.”

Eduard said, “You are compromised, Ramizi.”

“I am not. Headmaster’s tests said so.” Ramizi said, still acting as professional as he could. “Besides, I’d lose 7 points, permanently, if I chose to give my Intelligence up. It doesn’t work like normal stats work.”

“We all knew that already! You’re the one that spent those seven points!” Eduard said, his voice turning acidic. “We all agreed that we would give it up anyway, no matter the benefits.”

Erick looked to Poi, standing to the side of the room.

Ramizi instantly noticed Erick’s gaze. He spoke up, “You can tell them I am still me, Poi.”

Eduard rounded on Ramizi, his voice loud, but not a yell, “And that is part of the problem! It doesn’t matter what the Mind Mages say. They can’t tell if there’s some deeper problem, and so we agreed. All of us.”

Ramizi asked Poi, “Just tell them I’m still me.”

Erick sighed. He looked to Poi. All eyes were on Poi, right now, while the man himself likely had several mental conversations going on at once, according to the threads of intent coming off of his bluescaled head. A few threads multiplied, briefly, before collapsing back down to one.

“Fine. I’ve been cleared for some truth telling.” Poi narrowed his eyes, and said, “Ramizi manipulated the outcome of your coin flips. He stole the fruit from you—”

He didn’t have to finish, because Eduard yelled, “You planned this? You manipulated—"

Maia’s eyes went wide, as she stared at the ground.

“Why!” Eduard demanded, “Why!”

All color drained from Ramizi’s face as the conversation went somewhere he obviously did not think it would go.

Poi said, “From the very moment the Stat fruits were revealed to the world, and the nature of Intelligence was hinted at, Ramizi plotted to gain this Stat. He is not a compromised actor. He is merely a plotter.”

Ramizi looked away, to the wall, whispering, “I’m reporting you.”

“Gods dammit, Ram,” Maia said, bone-deep tired.

Eduard just went silent.

“Go ahead and report me, Mage Fieldsend.” Poi said, “I have already reported this incident, myself.”

Before anyone else could speak, Erick said, “That is enough of that. No more harsh words.” He asked Poi, “Would your people know the status of those who have taken extra Stats, and be willing to share? Are any of them malicious actors?”

“I can say that no extra Stat, on its own, is cause for alarm. They appear to be real Stats, with real effects, but much in the way that Particle Magic is a new thing, these new Stats will surely have unforeseen, real results, that have nothing to do with the Shades at all.” Poi added, “Except, perhaps, Charisma. There is much debate at the moment, but that Stat might require a kill on sight order. It is the same action we already employ against all malicious Mind Magic.”

Silence dominated the sunroom.

Erick said, “Okay.” He breathed deep. He said, “So. That’s all that…”

More silence.

Erick changed the subject, asking “So about when I gave rads to Candlepoint?”

Maia professionally said, “Your delivery was the largest single exchange to date, but even getting 18,000 darkchips only puts you at second place. Through proxies like us, the Headmaster has spent over 30,000 darkchips at the Crystal in the center of the city.” She added, “We’ve already reported to him what we saw, and we will also report the pertinent parts of this discussion to him, later.”

“I expect as much,” Erick said.

Maia nodded. She continued, “Bulgan has not appeared for any exchanges with anyone except for your exchange, hours ago.”

Erick frowned. That was disconcerting. He had known that his interactions with Candlepoint and with Bulgan had been cultivated by the Shade, but Erick was hoping that he wasn’t the only one on Bulgan’s radar. He asked, “Bulgan isn’t only poking at me, is he?”

“He seems to be,” Maia said, taking easy control of the conversation.

The other two participants in the room shared a thin line of telepathic intent between their heads, silently speaking to each other. Whatever they were saying, they kept their reactions off of their faces. Bah! Erick spent no more thoughts on whatever was going on there. He was concerned at the obvious split in the group he had witnessed, for something like that was never fun to witness, but at the same time, it wasn’t Erick’s business.

Maia said, “Bulgan targets anyone who starts shit near the Crystal, or those who are anything less than perfectly polite in his presence. But he doesn’t go out starting his own shit with anyone but you, archmage.”

“He tried to kill Jane and I when we first arrived in Spur, almost ten months ago.” Erick said, “He failed, and our own success might have driven him away, to the Shades. It’s my understanding that he was already deep in with them, though, so that’s all on him. Jane joined up with the Army to try and hunt him down before he got too strong. At the time, I thought it was an unnecessary risk. But now, I wish she would have succeeded.”

Maia said, “We have heard something like that, too.” She added, “But still… We did not expect what we saw. The beginning of your exchange was completely abnormal. After Bulgan left, it turned into the same thing we had seen twenty times before.”

Eduard spoke up, “Are you going to continue to visit Candlepoint?”

“No.” Erick said, “I stopped Bulgan from killing my guide, because he let me stop it from happening. I will not take that risk again, though I fully expect Justine’s body to be strung up as a taunt when I fail to show. I left them rain, and will continue to ensure it rains an adequate amount for the foreseeable future. They can gather and [Grow] what they need to [Grow], themselves, without me subjecting myself to their tortures.”

Maia said, “Probably for the best. They are friendly when they can be, but when they’re not… The reversion to monster can happen in a snap.”

Erick remembered seeing the dead-eyed shadelings in the streets. He asked, “How about the food stores I gave them? Rice and beans? Are they doing better with access to more food?”

“That food is gone.” Maia said, “For two days, they ate well. Then they were back to food lines barely serving people enough to get by.”

Erick gutted. “What the fuck.”

Eduard said, “There’s a hundred thousand shadelings, in there.”

“What?” Erick said, “I thought there was 30,000, maybe.” He looked to Poi. “How many shadelings does Spur think there are?”

Poi said, “35,000, estimated.”

“That’s what I based my numbers on, too,” Erick said. “That food should have lasted a week.”

Eduard said, “The Headmaster only began to suspect 100,000 people as of today. That number was calculated based on the quickness of your donation vanishing from around the city.” He added, “But they have water now. So they should be able to sustain themselves without turning to cannibalism.”

Erick felt his stomach turn. “Do we have any idea why the Shades are doing this?”

Eduard said, “A few ideas have cropped up.” He paused, then said, “For your eyes only, we do have some important information to share on that front. Are you aware of Jane’s experiences with Fake Magic?”

Erick blanked for a moment. “Oh.” He said, “They’re trying to introduce new magics to Veird?” He added, “I could see that… But… hmm...”

Eduard took a moment to say the next part. “If this is truly what they are trying to do, this might mean that we have to murder them all before their plan comes to fruition. A preemptive strike, before they invent their own forms of [Call Lightning].”

No one spoke.

Then Erick breathed out, “… Ah. I see.”

Eduard spoke a little more on their own experiences in Candlepoint. For them, the city had been coldly welcoming. Polite words had been spared for every adventurer invading the city, but it wasn’t until people proved themselves as non-violent that doors began to open. For those who harmed shadelings, they found nothing more than deserted streets and silence, when they weren’t in places like the Garrison, or by the Crystal, where shadelings were forced to deal with the people in their city.

Maia added that they hadn’t been tricked or harmed at all, by anything they had experienced, and all of the Headmaster’s daily scans never revealed any untoward magical effects.

Ramizi didn’t really talk.

By the time they left, an hour had passed.

- - - -

Erick lay in bed. Theoretically, he could have slept; he could have kept to a proper schedule. But he could not find peace in the darkness behind his eyelids. The events of the day played over and over again in his mind, and Erick was caught in the turbulence. He didn’t think he was capable of a ‘preemptive strike’. He would never be capable of that.

He sighed. There would be no sleep this night. He roused the Ophiel pretending to sleep in the crook of his legs, then conjured another. He conjured pillows in order to sit up in his bed, and then he sent his mind into his Ophiels.

One of them blipped away, to another part of the world. The other retrieved the black book that he had gotten from the Wayfarers.

Erick began reading, and experimenting.

In a far off part of the Crystal Forest, where the night sky twinkled above, and the moons scattered pink, silver, and white light across the dunes below, Ophiel played in the strong northern wind. And then there was work to do. Ophiel conjured a floating platform, then filled that platform with a weak, dense air; Erick would be casting much of the magic tonight himself, but it was always good to be prepared with a Restful space for Ophiel.

At Erick’s guidance, Ophiel took to the greater sky. Once there, above it all, he conjured bright spotlights, to fully chase away the darkness for hundreds of meters in every direction, to make what came next easier. Erick was under no illusions that the Darkness could ever actually be chased away, so he didn’t care when the shadows under certain mimics or agave was deeper than it should have been, especially since both faker and plant were crystalline and translucent, and therefore there shouldn’t have been any shadows at all. The shadows were thick in the Crystal Forest; that’s just how it was sometimes.

Crystal mimics chimed at the bright disturbance above, but paid no heed to what was not an attack.

Erick let Ophiel play and recover his mana while he read in the safety of his bed, back home in Spur. When he was ready, and the parts he had read made sense for what he was trying to achieve, he took direct control of Ophiel, and cast his own [Lightwalk]. Ophiel became a being of light, with Erick’s mana. Air no longer whistled across his body, but in the bright spotlights, Ophiel moved across the sky as easy as deciding to move a finger.

Ophiel descended to the ground. [Stoneshape] lifted a series of large boulders from the ground, from fist-sized, to torso-sized, to Ophiel-sized. Ophiel grabbed at the smallest rock, but his feathers moved against the stone like a disturbed lightward, splashing fragmented glows into the air.

Erick canceled [Lightwalk], had Ophiel pick up the stone, then resumed his [Lightwalk].

The stone came with Ophiel, this time. Erick could feel it, like a rock in his shoe, inside the nebulous field of existence that was Ophiel’s lightform body. His concentration lapsed at the oddity of feeling the stone like it was a not-part of him, causing the stone to tumble to the ground.

His next attempt at picking up the stone went much better, but the oddity of it still eventually caused the stone to drop down into orange sands.

Erick came back to himself, sitting in his bed. He activated [Lightwalk] himself. His clothes came with him, but the bed did not. The book, sitting in his hands, fell through his lap to land on his covers. So why did his clothes come with him, but not the book or the bed sheets, or anything else next to him?

He tried an experiment. He dismissed [Lightwalk] and stood beside his bed. He focused on who he was; he was not his clothes, after all. As Erick turned to light, his pants dropped to the ground, but his shirt remained a part of his lightform body. He looked down, and yup, he was definitely dangling out there.

Why did this spell work this way?

He canceled the spell and put his pants back on. This time, he didn’t focus on anything at all. He just turned on [Lightwalk], and all of his clothes came with him.

He flickered a few times, trying to selectively turn into light, and have his clothes fall off of him. After a while, he stood there, naked, devoid of all his items. With a bit more experimentation, he picked up his shirt, and selectively transformed into light, bringing the shirt in his hands with him. He put the shirt on while he was light, which was a strange experience all its own, but when he came back to his normal body, the shirt fell to the floor, shredded.

Erick almost stopped. He had obviously made a big error somewhere in his impromptu experiment, but he hadn’t hurt himself. So, he continued.

A quick [Mend] repaired the shirt. He tried again. This time, the shirt appeared on his body, exactly as if he had put the shirt on himself.

Two blue boxes appeared.

Special Quest Complete!

You have remade a Basic Spell.

Since you do not already have Clothe, here you go:

Clothe 1, instant, touch, 25 mana.

Touch a garment you have worn and wear it again. Maximum transferring range of 10m.

… What?

Erick, pajama bottomless, stood there in his room, looking at his new blue boxes. He laughed. He reached down and touched his rings, then used his new spell. Blip, blip; his stat rings appeared on his fingers, in their usual configuration. Erick laughed again. Ophiel twittered in happy violins, happy that Erick was happy.

Erick stepped away, then had Ophiel touch his pants. Casting through his [Familiar] brought an expected result: Erick’s pants appeared on his person, exactly as though he had put them on himself.

Erick smiled. “I didn’t mean to make that spell, but still! Awesome!” He paused, as a thought came to him. “OH! [Clothe]! This is that spell that actors use to quick-change outfits, isn’t it? We talked about this in Esoteric Magic, once.” He pumped a fist into the air, saying, “Ha!”

Ophiel hopped into the air, whistling violins and harps, mimicking Erick by punching the air with a wing.

Erick stopped in his happy tracks. “Oh my gods. Could I do this, too?” He held his hand out, and channeled [Force Bolt]. A tiny dot of white light appeared above his palm, along with the distinct sound of reaching out and touching something. He hopped back into his bed.

In moments, he was back in Ophiel’s mind, far away in the bright night of the Crystal Forest. In a few more moments, Erick had constructed a few dozen stone pillars all across the orange dunes.

He started with [Force Bolt].

Ophiel turned to white light.

Erick concentrated on a distant point. He poked out with his lightform body, aiming to touch that which was too far away. He failed the first few dozen times; coming back to himself revealed no new boxes, and no new magic. But he did not fail forever. The harmonies of [Force Bolt] and the primal desire to reach out and touch something eventually combined to reveal a truth about the Script.

As the sun rose in the east, Erick achieved something special. Something that people like the Headmaster likely knew of, but rarely shared with the world.

Special Quest Complete!

You have remade a Basic Spell.

Since you already have Force Bolt, here you go:

+1 point!

Erick smiled, sitting in his bed. He was certainly tired now, but who could sleep on a day like today? Not him! Not when there were so many more spells to remake, and points to grab.

… And he had to work on his Spatial Magic, too! Right!

- - - -

In a cloud filled sky, that was neither made of clouds, nor sky, Rozeta flew in a way that was not actually flight at all. She checked on problems here and there, speaking directly to her Registrars when needed, while stamping out tiny fluctuations in the Script, and watching certain, interesting individuals. Her flight never ended. She never rested. Which was why she saw what Erick had done, the second he had done it. She got notifications, too, but they were more turning off the alarm because you woke up before it went off, sorts of notifications.

She dismissed the almost-appearing blue box, then paused, automatically taking a moment of Eternity and turning it into as long of an infinity as needed. She didn’t technically stop, because this was Eternity, after all. There was plenty of time to do everything she needed to do without interrupting what she was already doing.

When she had confirmed the event, she smiled.

“Looks like you unlocked yet another special Class, mister Particle Mage Wizard,” she said to herself, in a good natured way, since she was the only one here, and the only one with enough knowledge to know what she was looking at, because she was not actually looking at anything. If there were eyes up here, they would certainly be too confused to understand even the smallest part of this place. “Good thing you like Particle Mage, because Copy Mage is a pain in the wing.” She paused. She hummed a transcendental tune that would have made bards cry at the beauty of her mumbling and composers chase the sky, forever, but she just uttered the nothing-tune while taking a moment to think, to fill the space usually occupied by so much more than this tiny moment. She said, “Ugh. Erick. You’re going to tell your daughter, aren’t you? And then who is she gonna tell… Hmm. No. That likely won’t happen.” She hummed a bit longer. She decided, “Good luck, Jane. I wonder if you can even do it that way.”

She almost exited that particular slice of infinity to move onto the next, but she had navigated Eternity for eternity, and something else happened in this particular slice of infinity that demanded her attention.

Rozeta, Dragon Goddess of the Script, preemptively turned off another almost-notification, as she frowned in a way that was more pure, unending displeasure, than the simple downturn of the lips.