A few hours later, Menelaea was resting alone in the main room of the accommodations when a great cacophony arose outside. Deep peals of thunder rolled by every few seconds, as bright flashes came through the windows from a distance. Sensing no one else was in the accommodations, Menelaea got up from her spot and moved senatorially out the front door and towards the commotion.
Nearing the Edge, she finally saw the source of the commotion: Otonia throwing great bolts of lightning off into either the clouds above or the ground far below. Blazing, thrumming, echoing. It was a tantrum if the elder had ever seen one.
She watched for a few minutes, until Otonia ceased on her own accord, clearly cognizant of Menelaea’s presence, but not turning to face her. Menelaea could see her breathing deeply, her torso rising and falling with her diaphragm.
After a pregnant moment of quiet, the echoing rumbles of thunder still coming from yet distant mountains, Menelaea spoke. “You seem troubled, magus.”
Otonia spat. “Magus, eh? Some wisdom I have.”
“By all accounts, you have a great deal of wisdom. With more yet to come,” the elder retorted.
“And yet wisdom cannot operate in an empty sky. There must be knowledge to build upon, least one think for thought’s own sake.”
Menelaea stayed quiet a long moment, before whispering softly. “So that’s the matter.”
Menelaea didn’t know the exact nature of the argument, but she could already tell that Otonia and Krateros had a fight. In truth, the same question had arisen as it had several times before: What are we doing this life?
“I don’t know what to do,” Otonia spoke through gritted teeth. “There’s just not enough information. Too. much. to. know.” Otonia punctuated each word by conjuring and shattering a small stone. “Too. little. learned.”
As the rock dust settled back on the young mage’s hands, Menelaea’s face furrowed in deeper contemplation. Then, after a while, “Have you ever heard the Fable of the Dark Caverns?”
Finally turning to gaze at her guest, Otonia quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “No?”
“It’s an allegory. But you’re intelligent enough I can compress it down to a few metaphorical points. The initial premise is that despite the fact that we live above ground, and can see miles and miles through clear, open air, there is so little that we actually perceive and understand. For all that we purport to see, far, far more ever remains hidden to us. It’s almost as if we live in underground caverns, with naught but the light of a single candle to guide us. We—we wander around, bump into things, and hope to meet people who will care for us. Sometimes we can gather together and our combined light will allow us to accomplish something more. The point is that we carry this metaphorical candle, from birth to death, representing our limited perception around us. And despite inevitably failing to understand everything around us, despite being limited to these candlelit lives, we can still come together and find joy in life.”
“Huh,” Otonia grunted as the elder Fell trailed off. “And so invariably our power outpaces our wisdom to use it. Is that the moral?”
“No. I mean, you’re not wrong, but that wasn’t what I was aiming for. Just that, well, all decisions are made with less than perfect information. It’s the nature of existence. But you can’t let your sudden conscientiousness of that reality grind your decision making process to a halt. A poor decision timely made is often far better than an optimal decision far too late.”
Otonia fell onto her butt with an exasperated sigh, thinking the tale over, humming to herself occasionally as it rolled over in her mind. At the end, she murmured, “For even if we were to live many such candlelit lives, our understanding would still remain only fleeting.”
“Ooh,” Menelaea perked up. “That’s a good line. Might steal that. Where’d you come up with it?”
“Ha! Personal experience.”
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A few months later, a barrage of spells lifted up into the night sky in a field just outside the town of Trope. They burst apart in a dazzling array of light and sound, casting their magical glow upon the Fell assembled there. It was a wedding. And despite the unique nature of the Fell pair bonds, they still had in place a ritualistic ceremony to represent when two Fell came together to establish a family. And to nine out of ten other cultures on Ager, the Fell ceremony was most notable for the fact that the first consummation took place publicly.
Fortunately, that was hours ago already and the ceremony was coming to a close after a long party filled with food, drink, music, dancing and (literal) magic. The drink was particularly welcome to Krateros who—despite having lived ten prior lives, married in at least two, and semipermanently lifebonded in most others (usually to her soulbound other)—was deeply embarrassed at having had to perform such an act in public.
Otonia had simply found it hilarious.
Yes, Ager’s number one couple were getting married.
Otonia had finally realized what Krateros had long before. In the absence of evidence to the contrary, you had to live as if you only lived once. And, well, they knew how to live a good life. Exciting lives were aplenty. But what Otonia and Krateros loved about well-developed sapient societies with strong family and community structures was becoming a part of those. And the best way to do that was forming one themselves. And if this was their last life, this was how they would go out. Living large. Loving large.
And, as the last spell rose high into the air—designed by Otonia herself—maybe with just a touch of magic.
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Otonia and Krateros had a large family by Fell standards, raising six children over the next fifty years. They loved and cherished each one.
Krateros eventually fell into politics, first serving as a representative of a town district for a few decades, and later as the executive for the town for another decade.
But if there was one thing the family—the Fell had no family names—was famous for, it was both the theoretical and practical applications of Otonia’s spellform research. That last spell at their wedding wasn’t just a pretty firework, stories about it sweeping all across Fell lands in the coming years.
The Fell school of Illusion magic was limited by a social preconception: That only Illusion magic could form the basis of a spell meant to form an illusion. But the System had no such limitation, as Otonia had known from [Arctic Illusions]—using ice and light to amplify the illusory effect—and [Mirage *F]—using light, sand, wind and heat to do the same. Unbound though from the System, and with the starting theoretical premise clear in her mind, Otonia prepared a masterwork. Conjured materials and evoked light, tied with metamagic together with powerful Illusion magic to create a powerful illusion. But not just any illusion.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
A Guardian. In its full-sized glory. The growling of its lungs heard. The flap of its wings, sending a breeze across the crowd. And, inspired by a certain [Wyvern] she once had been, breathing both fire and ice magic (or rather, for safety’s sake, simply appeared to, with heat and cold washing over the crowd).
The spell took seven of the highest quality enchanted objects she could source in Trope. Yes, the common gossip had spread the story all across the mountains. But that it had been done at all? That was enough for Fell academics to begin traveling to their little town just to meet with her.
A beginning high point of a long and illustrious career. Over the decades, Otonia created hundreds of new spellforms. And while many were inspired by System Skills, either directly or indirectly, there were two that bear particular mention in this tale.
The first was derived from her [Furtive Rogue *M] Skill. Starting with a miniaturized form of the same illusion spell she used for the dragon, she reworked it to erase her presence. Importantly however, she had to build in an incredible amount of logical metamagical pathways in order to give the spell sufficient flexibility that it would always work. Despite all other aspects being significantly limited, the increase in metamagic meant she needed to use a full seven of the highest quality enchanted objects she could source in the nearest seven habitations, or just as many as with the dragon illusion. This practice helped her significantly in such programming and, with that, she derived several full-body body-enhancement spells for Krateros. While he tested these to humor her, by and large he remained focused on the Fell style of spellcasting as far less fragile, provided sufficient training, and far cheaper.
The second notable spellform, right around her centenary, was based on [Animate Trees *M]. This spell was over 97% metamagic. While the individual spells for causing trees to move were well known, tying them together was massively taxing, and doing so in an automated fashion incredibly difficult. It required a full eleven of the highest quality enchanted objects she could source within the entirety of Fell lands. But in the end, she had pseudo-treants capable of fighting. Nothing too difficult though. Perhaps just [Goblins]? Not that they had any.
Through these two spellforms, Otonia realized a few significant truths about the System, which she shared only with Krateros. As an initial point, without being able to access the System again, her understanding of both lesser mana magic and true magic made her skeptical that the System was able to accomplish everything that it did with just magic. While the Fell development of true magic was stunted in her eye, she was fairly sure that the six schools of thought conceptually captured all that true magic was capable of. Ergo, and despite every Fell source on the history of the world telling her otherwise, her first hypothesis was that there was a third kind of magic that the System, and possibly the Pantheon, were able to use.
If she was wrong—and the System was limited to only lesser and greater magic—then there were three conclusions she could draw: The System was limiting, it was cheating, and it was thinking.
First, a significant portion of the proliferation of Skills in the System was the System artificially limiting the triggering conditions for the magical effects of the Skills. Why did [The Greenway *F] only increase her speed of travel within a forest? There was no known principle of lesser or true magic that would require or recommend that. As such, she theorized the System had taken a general movement Skill and split it to only work in certain circumstances.
Second, many Skills were able to do far more than they should have otherwise. Why did [The High Ground] cause greater damage when you were at a higher elevation? Again, there was no known principle of lesser or true magic that would require or recommend that. As such, she theorized that the System had put a thumb on the scales when it came to certain Skills, inefficiently using mana or experience to cause a result thoroughly unnatural according to the laws of magic as she knew them.
Third and finally, she was reminded of her work with metamagic that allowed her to create knowledge computation spells that allowed Arithmetic to work. While novel to the Fell, she strongly suspected that the System needed such a thing—and a great, great many of them—in order to accomplish what it did. If there was one thing the Fell and the temples of other sapients agreed on, it was that the gods did not abide competitors. As the System was nominally their product and tied into the souls on Ager, surely the System was also located on Ager. Or, at least, Caelum. But how did the System do its work, its math, its calculations and conclusions? She doubted the gods would micromanage it and she knew of no stories told about whether they had any servants in such a capacity. So, if there was no sapient mind behind the System, then the only conclusion was that the System itself was doing all that thinking.
The only lingering question that she couldn’t resolve with what she knew was how did the System evolve over time? She had thought it was perhaps solely the domain of the gods. And yet… there was too much detail. Was the System capable of evolving itself? Did it decide to split a movement Skill into two specialized Skills? Was the System or a god responsible for that terribly named Skill [The First Global Mapmaker’s Assistant]?!?
She feigned annoyance at that thought, because the potential answers were too terrifying to consider.
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With those answers in hand, the kids all grown, grandkids aplenty, Krateros’ political days over, etc., etc., Otonia retired from spellform academia to much acclaim for revolutionizing Fell studies on the subject through her research (or, at least, with what she publicly disclosed).
And after a few frustrating years dealing with too many visitors interrupting their retirement, Krateros had a grand idea.
“Let’s go on a trip?”
“A trip?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“The Edge.”
“We’ve been there. Several times, I recall.”
“But not all of it… And, every mountain peak.”
“They’re like every other.”
“And all over the Top of the World.”
“…Why?”
“I can hardly call myself a cartographer of the World if I didn’t make a map of all of it.”
“…Is this just to help me get away?”
“Hardly. Mutually beneficial I think. And… I just thought of it.”
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It took a while longer, but at the age of 122, Otonia and Krateros began their journey. They took it leisurely, hiking throughout the entirety of the Top of the World. They began at the center, and moved outwards in an ovoid spiral.
They visited every valley, seeing all that life could put on display at such a high and perilous altitude. Trees and succulent plants. Shrubbery. Vines. Lichens. Mammals. A few hardy reptiles. Insects. Decades later, Otonia’s pseudonymous notes on the local wildlife would become the standard for Fell ecological studies.
They visited the top of every mountain, with views that radiated for hundreds of kilometers, the very curve of the World visible. And when they reached the top of the highest mountain at the Top of the World, and, thus, the highest mountain in the World, well… in their 130s, the pair could still get amorous. In the name of cartography. *cough*
They visited nearly every Fell settlement throughout the Top. They were warmly greeted by their hosts and were fantastic guests in return, regaling the locals with tall tales and displays of magic the kind folk had only heard rumors of, especially in the smaller locales. When they weren’t near a settlement, the pair would stay in one of many wilderness cabins built sporadically by Fell over the millennia. But even those were not omnipresent. And when they were lacking, they would either camp out under the stars—if they were feeling rustic—or they would magic together another cabin in their own personal style. The latter of these would stand for centuries to come and ‘O.K.’ cabins, as they would come to be known by the initialism above the door, were widely considered the most desirable by traveling Fell, even if the identity of their builders had been divorced from the story of the creation of the Krateran Allmap and subsequently forgotten.
But that was in a time yet to come. When the interior of the map was finally done, the pair began their final loop, walking along the Edge. As they did so, they introduced themselves to every guardian, which ultimately slowed their walk down significantly, especially as they had a few thousand kilometers to travel. And yet, even after meeting hundreds, if not thousands, of dragons, one could always find the next just as fascinating.
As the last few hundreds of kilometers came to a close, the pair found themselves moving even more slowly and deliberately, holding hands and making other gentle public displays of affection. On the western Edge, they would watch the sun set every night. They had had a full life. A fulfilling life. And even if it was their last life, they found they couldn’t have asked for more.
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