Unnamed - Apparatus Of Change

Available Power : 6

Authority : 5

Bind Insect (1, Command)

Fortify Space (2, Domain)

Distant Vision (2, Perceive)

Collect Plant (3, Shape)

-

Nobility : 3

Congeal Glimmer (1, Command)

See Domain (1, Perceive)

Claim Construction (2, Domain)

Empathy : 3

Shift Water (1, Shape)

Imbue Mending (3, Civic)

Bind Willing Avian (1, Command)

Spirituality : 5

Shift Wood (1, Shape)

Small Promise (2, Domain)

Make Low Blade (2, War)

Congeal Mantra (1, Command)

Form Party (3, Civic)

Ingenuity : 4

Know Material (1, Perceive)

Form Wall (2, Shape)

Link Spellwork (3, Arcane)

-

Tenacity : 3

Nudge Material (1, Shape)

Bolster Nourishment (2, Civic)

Drain Endurance (2, War)

I am not quite sure how far we have traveled, in this first day of our expedition. I am actually cut off from a number of my sources of information that I had used to ‘see’ the camp, which makes it quite challenging to measure anything.

At a certain point, the huts slipped out of my view from Claim Construction, leaving me with only the beehive to compare things to. And making a comparison of how many lengths we’ve traveled, when I’m moving at the same speed as my point of reference, is actually quite challenging. The scholar could have done it, which means, in theory, that I should be able to do it. But the memories all involve the simple ability to take notes on something, and that’s also not really in the stones for me. I can make marks, but I can’t effectively read them.

You would think that finally acquiring a corvid quartet would do wonders for my ongoing battle against the empty, input starved depths of my mind. But Empathy is only at the third rank, and four birds is enough that the spell strains against the pressure of them. I can spend only a clawful of heartbeats looking through their eyes at a time, before I must wait for that drip of stamina to return; giving them an order would be beyond me.

Empathy is actually beginning to look like an excellent candidate for my next advancement. The list of what it has to offer me is rather slim, compared to the other magics that lay waiting for me to pluck them into my collective souls. But if nothing else, Alarm Trigger would be useful on a journey where keeping watch at night, or being alerted to pursuit, is invaluable.

Ah, look at me. Not even a month old, and already, I had developed a casual joking contempt for the deep mysteries of the arcane ability that is spread before me like wares on a street vendor’s mat. The unexplained mechanisms of my growth feeding me more and more and more; more power, more spells, more choices. And in the presence of that terrifying question about the nature of my very existence, I have chosen to be childishly petulant that Empathy does not give me a spell to manifest Lindean horses.

No, instead, all it does is govern the depths of three of my spells, one of which is new but promises to be quite critical, and one of which is already critical, but well overtaxed.

Imbue Mending is a strange spell. It seems so absurdly useful compared to much of my magic; a direct solution to what I want solved. But it’s more finicky than a caravan master who has just learned that the eggs you’ve asked to be moved across the dunes might hatch at some point. Petty in how many small ways it finds to slight me.

It needs material, for one thing. And it fades rapidly, with the exception of when I bury it deeply within something by using Link Spellwork and Claim Construction to put it into a wall. Or a beehive. Really, the only reason the honeybee’s home is still intact is because Imbue Mending is working constantly to undo the damage of being jostled. But on a shirt, or a pair of boots, or a wearing bowstring, it simply does what it must and then fades.

I have actually been keeping points in reserve in case I need to purchase and use Sever Command. If I were not, I would have already poured my power into the cost to take Make Clothing, filled my last Authority pedestal, and been working tirelessly to convert softstalk and cotton and the remaining salvaged leather into what the survivors need. Because what they need is boots, and what they have are boots that will not last much longer no matter how much magic I touch upon them.

We’ve stopped for the day somewhere near water, and I use Know Material as a targeting guide for Bolster Nourishment, waiting a half candle after the fire is started before I begin periodically lashing out with the spell until it catches on something edible near the ash stockpile and sinks in to what I assume is the stew pot. I also take the opportunity to use Congeal Glimmer and Congeal Mantra to produce more of the magical stones for the survivors to divide up.

I have considered feeding the spells into my bees. Or perhaps my crows, even! But I have no energy today to ask permission; everything I have needs to be reserved in case of an attack or some other crisis.

It’s been a while since I’ve been this… limited. This in the dark. I don’t like it.

I feel alone, in a way that is strange to feel, in the middle of a crowd of people. I know the survivors are still around me, I can see their personal effects through Know Material. But we are separated by so much more than distance. The closest I can come to communicating with them without wasting effort I might need to save lives later is watching Yuea, Kalip, and Jahn speaking to each other through Form Party. They don’t talk much, but it’s possible for me to hear the song of the light that plays across their link whenever they do. Not words, exactly; but just the knowledge that the connection is in use. It’s comforting.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

This actually gives me an excellent idea. Since we are stopped, I have some time to write, and I make use of my ample supply of Shift Wood to etch out a note. At some point, someone reads it, because I see the Form Party connection between the three begin to light up. Not from one point to the other, but all three of them at once, in every direction. A small siren call that I would be hard pressed not to notice.

I make another note in the bark sitting near me, and the activity dies down. One way communication is a challenge, but this, at least, is something useful.

A signal.

If they need me, they can raise an alarm that I don’t think I would even be able to sleep through. Nevermind the fact that I do not sleep as a flesh and blood person does.

A signal, but not a permanent one. Already, I can see the link forged by Form Party fading. I will need to periodically refresh it, it seems. Though already it is refreshed enough for me to try again.

I have so many ideas I wish to try, with Link Spellwork. I want to see what it would do, to feed Shift Wood or Shift Water into the process of Form Party. But my desire to experiment is tempered by my desire to have functional tools that I can rely upon, and using all of my supply of multiple spells only to learn I have overcomplicated things, while we are less safe than we were before, seems foolhardy.

So instead, I Fortify Space as much of the temporary camp’s area as I can, I refresh the party bond between the three most capable fighters, and I…

I do nothing.

I am, of course, keeping Distant Vision running. Watching behind us with one eye, searching ahead with another. I don’t know how far we’ve gone, again, but I suspect we’re closing in on the invisible line in the dirt where we will begin getting farther away from the apparatus making the silkspinners. But even with my constant escape into the greenery of the woods, and the expended size of my visions by a length of diameter, I am still…

Bored?

There have been no crises today. No problems aside from the existence of distance between where we are, and where we want to go. I can’t refresh their tired legs or heal their blisters, and I’m simply not needed for doing anything other than letting the bees know when it’s okay to flow out of their hive and go about their own harvest. The bees would get lost if I let them go while we were moving. I’m trying to accomplish this without losing any of them.

So here I sit. Quietly spinning where I have been left on the ground to balance on one of my points, the impossible form that I am. I cannot observe through my bugs or birds, in case I need them later. I cannot experiment with the spells that were needed, as I have already burned all of their fuel away, and I cannot play with the spells that may be needed, because… they may be needed. I would feel prince’s foot for using Drain Endurance to help a child sleep when it might be the difference between life or death later in the night.

I Link Spellwork to add Collect Plant to my Distant Vision. I know it drains down the spell heavily, but at least this way, I can see what I am doing, and I need it for nothing else regardless. Also, its reserve dips far slower now that I have more Authority. I amuse myself taking samples of ferns I have never seen before, snatching tubers I have seen and snacked upon before, or snagging ripe fruits on the edge of falling from the branch. Someday I will find a way to return these to the mortal world, and having a cellar of fruit and root vegetables will be mythical foresight then.

A point of power finishes forming, urged on by the increased flow of motes from Form Party. Our creative use of it as a signal, even if it is only in potential, perhaps. Or maybe it is simply because the three of them are making true use of it. I cannot tell.

Another point forms from a burst of vital essence that accompanies the increased presence of of meat and bone and fur and pelt in my Know Material view. I’m not sure who has killed what, but every one of the survivors remains visible in See Domain, so none of them were hurt, and I have not been called upon, so I can only assume someone has been hunting.

I spend unknown time floating, trying to feel my body and natural senses. Watching the little motes that come in from the glimmer and mantra that the people draw on in tiny ways I do not think they notice. I’m not even sure I notice; not even sure they’re real. I watch the motes from my ongoing promises, less generous now that the promises have become stable and my actions more certain, but still there, drifting to me from a direction that isn’t physical but could best be described as ‘slightly up and very outward’. I try to find the motes from my honeybees, but they don’t seem to make them on their own. But I know I’ve seen some before, from them. I think back on the circumstances, and form the tentative theory that Bind Insect won’t agitate these little flecks of arcana on its own, but through my bonds acting on the world, they can stir up small amounts if the actions are important.

In this way, I pass the hours, occasionally using snippets of magical effort to check in with a crow who is rather displeased to be standing watch, and lets me know it.

When I do finally form that eighth point of power, and get exhausted with the crow eating up far more of Bind Willing Avian’s empty liquid fuel than I can afford, I decide there is no sense waiting further. If I need, I will have enough points in reserve to ascribe Sever Command to myself, even after I spend the three to take my Empathy.

Empathy : 4

Shift Water (1, Shape)

Imbue Mending (3, Civic)

Bind Willing Avian (1, Command)

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Available :

Feel Fear (1, Perceive)

Alarm Trigger (1, War)

Feel Love (2, Perceive)

Know Armament (2, Perceive)

Bind Fish (2, Command)

Hear Intent (3, Perceive)

Form Doorway (3, Shape)

Passage Trigger (4, War)

Move Water (4, Shape)

Damage Armor (4, War)

Truly, I need to find a way to mark away the spells or ideas that do not fit with me. I do not think, at this point, that I will ever actually be investing the power to Feel Fear or Bind Fish. I may be wrong, but I also do not think I need a reminder of their presence every time I try to make a decision.

Among my new choices, I notice Move Water. Again, a presumably upgraded version of Shift Water, a multiplication of effort perhaps. Damage Armor also seems to be something that I may have grim need for in the future. I mark them as potential options, before dismissing the soul’s ideations. I have five points remaining, and as I mentioned, they are kept back in case I need to quickly react with a separate warspell.

At least, having raised Empathy, I have accomplished what I truly wanted. I can mend more now, and instantly set to Imbue Mending upon tunics and shoes as much as I can. I can Shift Water even more before tiring, which is… less valuable, actually. We are far from a water source, and Know Material tells me that the survivors have brought only a limited supply of it in their waterskins and canteens. However, I can also now feel the expanded energy of Bind Willing Avian.

Now, truly, I can withstand the belligerence of a sleepy crow for far longer before my magic fades and I am left once again in the dark and quiet.

I think, perhaps, I will save the rest of this spell’s capacity, and not tether myself to more crows just yet. A different bird, maybe. One that is less… eager… to share quite so many emotions through the connection. Not that I do not welcome the contact of another mind with slightly more complexity than a placid honeybee, but…

The farmer’s memories give me the context I need. A lifetime of half-solitary conditions bringing it into focus. I can love the connection to others that I have, but still desire quiet personal comfort as well. And the crow on watch is intent on sharing everything, constantly. I almost regret tempering my soul.

But I do not. Not truly. Because I am not the farmer I used to be. I don’t know what I am, or where I actually fall on the question of shared crow emotions. But I am free to find out now, and learn from who I was as I do so.

The dawn breaks, and I see through the eyes of several birds and several dozen bees as the sun crests the treeline. The crows greet it with screaming enthusiast caws that wake the camp, and the bees flow outward to seek their own food before the survivors move on. The people wake, and I watch them ripple through See Domain, tracking their footsteps across fortified space and seeing how their impressions in my mind change as they rouse from sleep and begin their tired morning.

And then we are off again, breakfast eaten, bees packed away, one tired crow sleeping in a backpack while the others soar overhead.

More ground to cover, and lengths to go before we’re truly safe.