Honshu

Temple of the Air Goddess

“Close your eyes and allow the truth of existence to fill your mind. Let the wisdom of Maetraya reveal itself to you.”

Those were the words of the elder priestess to Amara, and as she prayed and meditated here, her sole guiding words. She was a rarity in Hoshun. A mage gifted with mind magic, capable of peering into the ethereal realm of dreams and imagination. The plane of possibilities. This, along with her growing talent, made her a natural choice for training as a priestess. Something Amara applied herself to.

“Now, open your eyes,” her mentor said softly.

As her eyes opened, it partially shocked her. She could now see from her normally blind left eye. The normally milky blind eye now glowed lavender and pink, with motes of mind aether drifting free of it. So much information bombarded her mind, too much. A sharp piercing pain pressed in on her mind behind her eyes near the temples and she gasped. Her eyes clamped shut and her mentor cooed soothingly.

“It’s ok. It’ll be alright. You just need more training. You’ve been gifted the Maetrayops.”

“The what?”

“The eyes of Maetraya. It allows you to harness mind magic to see. It’s a rare form of divination that requires great control and power. And it appears to be a natural gift of yours. Many scholars would compete to hold your attention if you were on any other world.”

Amara smiled sadly, but she wasn’t on any other world. She was stuck here. She was sympathizing with her friend Akamori’s complaints about feeling trapped here. She, Kusinaki, and Akamori would all lay in the fields of the soft hills next to the village and comment on what life might be like on worlds beyond theirs. Hoshun’s lack of space port and its isolated nature meant that they were effectively exiled and stranded.

“All by design,” she’d been told often enough. But what design? And designed by who?

As the magic faded, Amara leaned forward, panting. A soft sheen of sweat cooling her skin. She glanced up and closed her bad eye, unable to see from it once again now that she’d released the magic.

Her mentor smiled softly and leaned back, giving her space to recover herself, and she sat up. The strain of her training having taken its toll. She felt the depleted AP from her total pool. It would take time to recover that magic back. Like an empty well that was fed slowly by an underground river.

“Thank you, master Imrae.”

The older woman nodded as a soft breeze gusted gently through the inner temple. The small flames atop magic candles danced, yet did not extinguish. The elder mage nodded and turned to Amara. “It’s been a long day, child. Rest. We can begin again later. And don’t forget to study for your first soul walk ritual.”

Amara bowed deeply at the waist, thankful for the release of her duties for the day. “I won’t forget, master.”

She rose slowly to mask the shakiness in her legs. Making her way to the temple exit, she saw one of her oldest friends since childhood seated at the temple steps, throwing pebbles into a nearby stream. Judging by his posture, Akamori was bored again.

Akamori Shinjo (Friend)

Divinity: Mortal, Magic Rating 0

Challenge: 0

“You’ll scare off the fish, and Old man Kaiden will get mad again.”

Akamori turned to regard her. She’d folded her arms in her best attempt at being authoritative. The young man in front of her had a small sheen of sweat on him. No doubt from training with his father again. That explained the boredom and dour mood combo.

“Guessing training with your father went as well as one could expect?”

He huffed, another pebble plopped into the stream.

Amara frowned and took a seat next to him, nudging a pebble gently with the toe of her sandal. The late afternoon sun warmed her after sitting inside the cool temple all day. In some ways, she envied him getting to stay outside and spar with his father. Though judging by his mood and expression, he wasn’t as thrilled about it.

“Soon you’ll be a mage too, and you’ll be able to apply all the concepts your father is teaching you. The air mother will favor you. I’m sure of it. Just have faith.”

He sighed, the long bangs of his red mane billowed out with his frustration. “Maybe.” He said sullenly. “I just hate feeling like I don’t get anything he explained to me.”

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“You really shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You can only hear so much instruction on how to use magic, without actually being able to use it. Your father just wants to make sure you’re as ready as he can make you.”

“I just wish I knew for what. It’s always so boring here. Nothing ever happens. I’m going to grow old and die trapped here on this rock in the middle of nowhere.”

Amara knew his heart and mind both lived among the stars. She snuck out of her hut at the dead of night and often found him in their usual spot looking up at the moon. As though he saw himself there more than on Honshu. Some mistook that for being easily distracted as a child. She understood it as a pull on his soul.

“All by design,” she said absently.

He shot her a confused glance. “Who’s design?”

She bit back a laugh, shaking her head. “Nothing, it’s just something the priestesses say. I guess it’s sunk in so much I’m parroting it now, too.”

“What does that mean?”

“Parroting?”

“Yeah.”

She paused and tried to think back to the ancient Terran fables. “I think it’s a massive bird god that steals your voice and speaks with your words.”

“That sounds terrible,” Akamori said with a shiver.

The two shared a grateful laugh. They didn’t have to deal with voice stealing parrots. Akamori pushed himself up slowly and dusted off his blue koza and robe. The yellow trim looked almost golden in the bright Hoshun sun. The air teased at his red mane and he glanced out to the fields. She could see the thought forming even before he knew what was happening.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

She smirked, called it. Giving him a soft nod, she stepped off to fall in at his side as the two strode their way out of the village along the small dirt trail that flanked his favorite stream. As they walked, she caught him casting inquisitive glances down at the small fish in the stream. He had on his thinking face. It wasn’t brooding. Just… pensive.

The way his brows knit together gently, like soft sloping hills. The focused intensity in his eyes. And the subtle purse of his lips. She wondered for a moment just what exactly it was he was thinking about.

“Sometimes I worry my dad puts too much faith in my ability to run this village,” he finally said.

“Oh?” she replied, giving him room to elaborate. She’d come to learn he was actually rather introspective, and letting him arrive at things on his own worked far better than leading him most of the time.

“Yeah. He’s always so strong and confident and he always knows what everyone is thinking and feeling. Like he just knows. You know? Not like magic or anything cheating. But just intuitively knows. Me? I only really know you and Kusinaki, mostly.”

“You’re concerned you’re not the best fit for the role? Not necessarily about your capabilities in said role?”

He nodded at her enthusiastically. Relieved that someone else finally understood the torrent of doubts that were pressing in on him from all sides. She recognized the behavior enough by now. His father cast an intense shadow to live under. It was understanding if everything his father carried seemed too much for himself.

“I just don’t feel like I can be the person my old man is. The village bores me. I wanna know what’s out there…” He pointed skyward with a reverent expression. “To see what’s beyond Hoshun.”

She smiled ruefully at him. Sometimes it was hard to nudge him free of his need to leave. If they had spell ships or even live wyrms, she was certain he’d have tried to sneak away by now. Instead, he’d had the misfortune of being borne on a planet that was isolated from the rest of the galactic stage. She settled on a simple, comforting pat on the back.

“Wanna spar?” He asked spontaneously.

She gave it some thought and nodded. “Sure. I could use a little workout.”

The pair circled each other as a soft wind gusted, carrying red leaves and pink cherry blossoms with it. She watched his hair dance behind him lightly, focused on his center of mass. He rushed forward, beginning with a basic series of hand to hand strikes. She blocked and parried capably. His skill was rusty, but he was strong and faster than she was.

She pushed back against his offensive and countered on some openings she’d noticed in his technique, punishing him a few times. He staggered with a wince, clutching his ribs after she’d knife hand struck him there. She didn’t quite get the nerve cluster, but she’d still caught him in a soft spot.

“Believe it or not, you’re actually improving.”

While his father had been mentoring him on the Way of the Blade, she’d been mentoring him on the Way of the Open Palm. Taking advantage of his opening further, she cast some air tendrils that drilled through the soft soil, erupting near his feet and anchoring him in place. In her mind’s eyes, a series of concentric rings overlaid their positions. He was in the third and outermost ring. She knew from her training with Master Imrae that she could land roughly 8 strikes to critical nerve clusters, given the circumstances.

She advanced, and her fingers crashed into his body like blunt stingers, smashing vital nerve points and causing general numbness to settle in across his torso and arms. For an instant she felt something cold and oppressive threaten to push its way free from Akamori and she hesitated before he stumbled to his knees. The air tendrils holding his feet whirled apart like dust devils running out of steam.

She crouched down and threw one of his arms over her shoulder. The feeling would come back soon, so she wasn’t worried about having done lasting damage.

“Come on, let’s head back home before it gets too late. You’ve got your ceremony tomorrow.”

“Oof. You really laid into me there.” he said.

She shrugged gently, despite him being on her shoulder. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You lacked magic and a sword. I have no illusions to thinking I could take you in a standup fight.”

He shook his head, chuckling. His gaze down at his feet as they walked slowly. “You sell yourself short.”

She glanced back towards the soft warm glow of the village over the hill, back the way they’d come. As they strode back, she noticed a distant and sad expression on his face. She was curious about what had him feeling so melancholy, but chalked it up to being trapped in a life he couldn’t lead the way he wanted.

“Sometimes I feel like the fish in that stream,” he said softly as they made their way home along the small dirt path they’d taken out. “Like I’m trapped in a reality I can’t escape. I can see what lays beyond it, but I can’t physically be free of my cage.”

“What cage would that be?”

“Fate.”