It was hard to keep track of time, subjective linear or otherwise, while embedded in Niramyn’s sanctuary. Nym didn’t think his physical body even existed right now; he was just a mind puppeteering an illusion that never needed to sleep, or eat, or go to the bathroom. It was one of the many, many questions he was still trying to answer.
At some point in the early days, he’d conjured up a clock so he could see the hours passing by. It was modeled off some of the clocks he’d seen in Analia’s home back when he’d first met her, but that was only an empty outer shell. Its guts were pure magic, not because Nym couldn’t make the gears and cogs needed, but because he didn’t know what exactly was needed or how to put it together. Magic was simpler, kind of.
He was pretty sure it didn’t work right. If he’d been in the core reality, the real world, it would have been fine, but here, he wasn’t confident that the parts of the spell construct that actually measured the passage of time were doing it accurately. It didn’t seem possible that they could, given that this artificial world lacked any and all of the constants that the spell used as a reference, and his approximations of those constants were just that: approximations.
So he’d dismissed the clock after… weeks, maybe? It must have been at least a month. He’d met with Ferro three times so far to discuss what he’d learned, and as boring and stale as those conversations had been, they were the highlight of his existence. Everything else was mindless, dry reading.
There was no arguing that it was important information to know. Nym had learned a thousand things he should have known prior to reaching the third layer, and he was only scratching the surface. All of the spells he’d come up with himself, the ones he’d been so proud of for their unique construction that had granted him tools no other mages had, those all seemed childish and shoddy now.
Nym had taken the time to rebuild almost his entire repertoire just as an exercise in the new principles he’d learned from the ascendant texts. Every single one was more arcana efficient and quicker to cast now, though several of them were harder to pull off. The timing was more exacting in exchange for that efficiency, the tolerances tighter. He knew he could manage it easily, and more than that, he was sure most second and third circle mages could do the same.
It was getting harder and harder to stay focused now, and he was only half way through that bottom shelf of blue leather books. And every single one of those books was so densely packed with important information that he couldn’t skim even a single paragraph without missing something. A lot of it was familiar to him, but a lot of it also contradicted what he’d already known to be true. To help break up the monotony of reading, he sometimes designed little experiments to test the principles the book was espousing against what he’d already learned.
The books won every single time. No surprise there. Ascendants knew more about magic at its most fundamental levels than mortals did. The really frustrating part was that while all of this knowledge was undeniably useful and he was definitely a better mage for having learned it, none of it was what he was actually here for. He needed to find a way to connect with the other versions of himself that existed in the outer layers of reality, to become a singular being.
He wanted to skip ahead from the blue volumes to the red ones on the second shelf, but he couldn’t. He’d opened one once, just to see where he was heading, and hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of what he was reading. It referenced a few of the foundational principles he was learning now, but applied them in new ways he didn’t understand, or discussed how they reacted to other things he’d never heard of.
Nym had promptly given up and gone back to the books he was supposed to be reading. Even skipping ahead down the line of blue tomes had led to the same problem. He slogged his way through them, one at a time, now on his… he’d lost track… perhaps seventieth tome. It was probably more than that considering how often he’d had to re-read a few of the more obtuse passages.
The door appeared in the wall, prompting Nym to look up with a weary smile. He teleported himself over to it, or rather used a weaker second circle version that was only good for a few hundred feet but was near instantaneous. Its primary use was convenience and buying time if he found himself in a situation where he needed to escape something that was far too close. It would have been quite useful in his sparring match against Babkin, had he known how to do it.
With everything he’d learned though, he doubted it would be necessary to retreat from Babkin now. Unless the old innkeeper’s berserker aura was truly unique in its ability to shed hostile magic, he had plenty of options for penetrating the defense and putting any berserker down with minimal fuss.
He couldn’t teleport through the door for some reason he hadn’t quite figured out yet. Nym had a few theories, but he thought the answer was simply that teleportation didn’t work for moving between layers of reality, and that the doorway was itself the physical representation of a spell that did allow for that. Figuring out exactly what spell did that was high on his priorities list, since he expected it to be instrumental in connecting with his reality echoes.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Ferro was waiting for him in the endless white void, looking the same as always. Nym approached him and started the conversation off. “I wanted to ask: do you experience the time between our meetings?”
“No,” Ferro said. Nym already knew that. All the ascendant’s talk about ‘subjective linear time’ was a pretty big clue. He’d only asked as an opening to the topic to prompt a more thorough explanation.
Ferro didn’t oblige him, and after a second, Nym said, “How do you experience it then?”
“An excellent question, one which I am sure you’ll be able to answer yourself eventually.”
“Not going to tell me, huh?”
“I’m afraid not.”
It had been worth a try, but Nym wasn’t surprised. Ferro seemed to always have a good idea of exactly how far Nym had gotten in his studies and what topics he’d covered. He was determined that Nym learn everything in the proper order, with no skipping around. According to the ascendant, Nym’s tendency to just research whatever new novel idea caught his attention was the whole reason his magical foundation was riddled with holes.
“Okay, let me ask a different question then. Why does it matter if arcana pulled from the second layer doesn’t resonate properly for the spell? According to Grant’s Theorem of Oscillating Resonance, it should self-correct and the arcana diffusion is so miniscule that it’s not even measurable without specialized spells designed to keep track of it.”
“Another excellent question. Why do you think it matters?”
“I don’t know,” Nym said, annoyed. “That’s why I’m asking.”
Just once, he wished he could find a teacher who didn’t do this to him. Every single one of them always wanted to tease him along until he came up with the answer himself. While he recognized some intrinsic value in the process, he’d been teaching himself for hundreds of hours, maybe thousands, using nothing but books. Sometimes he just couldn’t figure out an answer and could use some help. He found he missed the Ferro of before whose only goal had been to push Nym past the threshold of reawakening Niramyn.
“Ask a different question,” Ferro said.
The refusal to answer was a hint in its own way though. It told Nym that he hadn’t advanced far enough to figure out the answer on his own, and that it was probably related to the first milestone he was struggling towards: connection to the first layer reality echo. It wasn’t likely to be a direct relation, but something foundational that he’d need to start practicing now so when it was important later, he wouldn’t have to relearn it.
It was deeply depressing that these conversations, frustrating as they were, were the high points of his life now. Nym did his best to stifle a sigh and started working his way down his list. If he was lucky, he’d get answers to half of them, though usually those answers were just references to what sections of various books Ferro felt he needed to reread.
Progress was slow, but as the ascendants said, he had all the time in the world, as long as he didn’t go crazy first.
* * *
Months later, he hoped, Nym closed the last of the blue volumes and leaned back in his chair. “My brain hurts,” he said out loud.
It didn’t, really. It couldn’t. His suspicion that the physical body he was piloting around wasn’t real had become a certainty. He knew how to detect it now, and could even replicate it to an extent. His own version didn’t include the temporal dilation effect, but if he wanted to, he could use fifth layer arcana to trap someone’s mind in an illusory world of his own design.
By all mortal measures, he was an archmage in truth now, and a proper one, not just one who’d cheated his way there by looking over someone else’s shoulder and copying their homework. Somehow, it didn’t seem like enough anymore. That was probably because there was another equally long shelf full of red tomes, and one with green tomes above that, though thankfully that was a significantly smaller collection.
Nym didn’t move for hours that turned into days while he internalized the last bits of knowledge he’d stuffed himself full of. Things he’d learned near the beginning that hadn’t really clicked all made sense now; things he thought he’d understood the first time around were revisited and hidden layers discovered.
And finally, after however long it had taken, Nym thought he was ready to try to form the bridge between core reality and the first layer. All of the answers had been in the texts, once he understood enough to grasp the implications of some of the laws and theories he’d learned. It all fit together in a way that was both frighteningly complex and beautifully elegant.
“Ferro,” Nym said. “It’s time.”
“Are you sure? You have as much time as you need to prepare.”
“I’m sure. I know what I need to do now.”
Ferro appeared in the room. That was a first; he’d never set foot beyond the threshold before. He gestured towards the second shelf of books and said, “Even if you succeed, you know this is only the beginning?”
“I am aware,” Nym said. “And I have thoughts on the next step to take after this one. Before I go too deeply though, I want to make sure my initial understanding is correct.”
Ferro nodded approvingly. “What is your first step?”
“It’s time to go back to reality prime, to the real world. I can’t make the connection I need from here. It’s too far removed.”
“Can’t you?”
“No,” Nym said firmly. “Not until the chain is complete and each echo is connected to the next.”
“What will you do if an ascendant attacks you in the core reality?”
“Hope that you save me.”
Ferro laughed at that. “That’s fair enough. It wouldn’t be wise to expect a child to defeat a seasoned warrior just because he’s mastered his first weapon drills. Very well, I will shepherd this attempt. Are you ready to begin?”
Nym went over the spell in his head one last time. Every variable had been accounted for. The formation was perfect. He knew every modification he needed to make to his own physiology before he could attempt the spell, and he knew down to the second how long those would take to complete. He could see the whole chain of events clearly in his mind, each successive step that would lead him towards his ultimate goal.
“I’m ready.”