“At the beginning, there was only the Flame. Besides it was a lack of things so absolute even nothing didn’t exist. It was before time and before thought. Before magic itself. And it was all there was.”
“Until the Flame decided to create. And it was the first creation of the Flame-that-is-origin as it spoke and created from naught a name. The Name. For it named itself with a word embedded at the beginning of all. Such that it can never be erased. And The Name was, is and forever will be Ignis.”
“When The Name came to be, Ignis chose to create more and he named The 8 Aspects. And as they were named, from Ignis’ power they too came to be. They were Lightmother Lumen, the Virtuous. Voidmother Umbra, the Sinful. Fatebinder Logos, the Omniscient. Timebringer Chronos, the Omnipresent. Realmforger Astremus, the Vast. Lifegiver Vitaros, the Deceiver. Toolbearer Parios, the Implacable. And lastly, the Nameless Aspect whose Name was concealed and forbidden, lest just the mention tempts the acts most foul. For the last aspect must be known only as The Betrayer.”
“And as they had been created, so they came to create. First Chronos brought forth the very time and space. Then Astremus forged all the realms we mortals live in. Vitaros gave us the possibility of the first mortal life and the Betrayer granted mortals souls. Lumen gave us the day and the stars while Umbra made all the darkness and night in-between into her domain. Parios imparted to mortal flesh the capacity for magic while Logos gave mortals the knowledge to live and prosper in the new reality we had been born into. It was an era of wonders. Where there was no wrong. The Era of the Aspects.
And now the Aspects are dead. As is Ignis, despite his greatness. For they had been betrayed and slain. That is the story of the First Betrayal and of why there is no evil worse than necromancy.”
“But first we come to why we celebrate the Solstices. And to the rivalry between Lumen and Umbra, the two consorts to the Flame-that-is-origin. Despite their affection for Ignis, Light and Void are opposites and anathema - they cannot coexist. And so, when Lumen sought to bring the mortals her warm light in an eternal day, Umbra objected. She demanded her own eternal night upon the realms.
To settle such a dispute Ignis has decreed a compromise: That upon each world night and day would interchange in a cycle. On Lumen’s Solstice the day shall be the longest, closest to the eternal daylight she had once envisioned, thereafter the days grow shorter until Umbra’s Solstice when the night’s length is the greatest; and then nights grow shorter once more in such a cycle. Year after year.”
“In the ages past, these days held great power. When on Lumen’s Solstice there could not be a single ray of darkness even in the deepest crevice of the earth. Where virtue filled the hearts of all people who beheld it. When on Umbra’s Solstice the night was starless and full of sin. But not of sin as we understand it today, for back then there was no evil. There was no hunger, grief nor suffering. Back then sin and virtue were just an expression of people that carried no good or bad. For it was an era where all was well. But that all changed after the first Betrayal.” Irwyn felt grief well in his heart from just telling the story.
“It was felt on every world, across every realm. Every person knew it immediately with absolute certainty. Ignis was dead. And so were the Aspects. For they had been betrayed by one of their own. The Betrayer had slain his maker and his kin, forever tainting all things. It is from that very act that all evil in the world comes. The First Betrayal. Ever since then, true magic has faded. The perfect Era of the Aspects was no more and all which is wrong had come to be.”
“But even though the true wonders of the past are long gone, our gratitude must remain. That is why we still celebrate the Solstices, to honour Lumen and Umbra even in death. Why those of you who do not know the day of your own birth nor parents may at least take up the grace of the Lightmother or Voidmother.”
“Because gone it may be, there once used to be wonder beyond description. And as long as we tell the stories, as long as we honour them, something of the Aspects remains in each of us. So when you are at your darkest hour, when you cannot see hope; remember: You each carry a small fragment of that greatness.” Irwyn finished and bowed, dismissing the bright halo above his head. There was a moment of silence before someone started clapping. Soon enough the hall was taken over by applause that made Irwyn blush. With the wave of his hand, he quickly reignited all the lanterns and quite awkwardly staggered from the stage.
“Good didn’ freeze up dis time,” Waylan gave him a thumbs-up as soon as he was seated. The next moment he turned and grinned at Rainer who, with a scowl, threw a few coins at him.
“You are betting on this kind of stuff?” Naricinia looked something between amazed and appalled.
“Betting a few coins on everything makes life a lot more exciting,” Rainer shrugged. “And you get better at making the important bets.”
“Thank you for your continued faith Waylan,” Irwyn smiled. “I told it would be rewarded this time.”
“Well, ya told me dat last time too,” Waylan grinned, trailing a fake tear with his finger. “Brought me down low, I tell ya.”
“You like the speech Narci?” Kalista asked. “Your first time hearing it, right? Tell him he uses too many fancy words.”
“I still don’t understand some of them,” Waylan chimed in.
“I didn’t have trouble understanding,” Naricinia said, yet her expression turned a fair bit awkward. “The thing is… well…. you see…” she trailed off.
“If you have any critique I would like to hear it,” Irwyn nodded. “My friends here only know how to complain about vocabulary after I revisioned it 3 times to make it as simple to understand as possible without losing the meaning.”
“What is a ‘crevice’ supposed to be anyway?” Rainer asked to which Kalista whispered something to his ear, earning a grin, “huh.”
“The thing is, my father was really religious but, well… he worshipped the New gods.” Narcinia finally said. “And well… you see… so do kind of I…”.
“That is unusual in our duchy but not unreasonable,” Irwyn smiled, trying to dissuade her worries. “The New gods do probably exist, though they most certainly did not create our Realm as they claim to have done.”
“You cannot know that!” Narcinia snapped back, raising everyone’s brow at her sudden combativeness.
“Well, I read a lot and came to my own conclusions,” Irwyn shrugged, not noticing his own small frown. “For example, in the 9 Duchies of the Federation, all 9 Duke households openly worship or at least acknowledge the Aspects of old. I think that the greatest magelord bloodlines would know the best who really created magic. Moreover, the New gods have gaps in their mythos; for example, they claim flame to be an element equal to the others, yet only flame does not have lesser manifestation like the other 8, not to mention…”
“Enough, Irwyn,” Maxim stopped him, “That is not how you convince people of being wrong. This will only result in an argument and ruin everyone’s evening. Whether the belief is right or wrong doesn’t matter to a person who believes hard enough.”
“But…” Irwyn was exasperated for a moment until he looked at Narcinia. The timid girl was biting her lower lip and glared angrier than Irwyn thought she even could manage. “Fine. Let us not talk about this anymore.”
“I will go organize the dishwashing,” Narcinia said and stood up with a bit too much force, leaving the group around their table with a sudden bitter aftertaste.
“Truly a ladykiller, Irw” Rainer snickered. Earning an amused shush from Kalista.
“I may have gone too far,” Irwyn admitted, though still frustrated that anyone would choose willful ignorance.
“You are doing that thing again, Irw,” Waylan shook him from that thought as Irwyn realised that, yes, there was a small flame dancing between his fingers; he immediately snuffed it out. It was a bad tick to have. Especially considering that it would be trouble if word spread to officials about him being a caster. Showing the kids some magic to inspire them was a calculated risk. They never left the street, much less the slums, until they were old enough to work. And by then they would be loyal and smart enough to not talk about it. He considered it a worthwhile price for giving them something special to remember, Logos knows they often need it.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Even if a few were to tell over the years, no one would believe that their group of street-rat thieves was hiding a caster. They were just too rare in Ebon’s Respite as most were all syphoned to the nearby capital, City Black, to pursue higher education and far better career prospects. Being an orphan with technically no recorded identity or guardian robbed Irwyn of that opportunity though.
“Sorry, I will go read in my room,” Irwyn sighed, getting a nod from everyone.
“Have a good one,” Kalista waved
“You too.”
“Oh, we will,” Rainer answered instead and Irwyn did not dignify that with an answer nor bother inspecting his leer.
“ ‘Morrow then,” Waylan waved him off while Maxim just gave him a firm nod. “Night.”
Quickly, Irwyn slipped to the center of the room and then upstairs. A few of the kids tried to talk to him but he just waved them away, not in the mood to, well, talk anymore. As a benefit of adulthood, Irwyn had his own room. His was among the larger ones, in fact. Though that was both by merit and necessity because Irwyn’s hobby took up a decent amount of space.
Opening the door, it looked more like a library than a bedroom with bookshelves taking the 3 long walls, the bed being right next to the door.
Irwyn basically jumped down into the bed a ball of light manifesting above his finger, quickly bringing visibility to the windowless room. It was much simpler than the show he had held below, just a simple light. And it was so dazzling and beautiful despite the simplicity. Although Irwyn loved books he read a lot less often than the others might have believed. Because he enjoyed reading but magic was just so much more to him.
The infinite permutations and alterations possible called to Irwyn like nothing else. Books were good for knowledge. For words and phrases that made him feel refined rather than like the street rat he was. To understand history and people. But deep down he knew that if push ever came to shove, it would be his magic that would pull through for him. Distinguish him from the rest.
And so, he practiced. The single bubble of light split into two without reducing in size. Then 4, 8, 16, 32, 64 and finally 128. Sweat began to pour from Irwyn’s forehead even before the last division. When he had first started this exercise when he was 9 he could barely manage to control two. It took him a year to reach 4, 2 more to reach 8, and another 2 for 16. But then improving became easier. The older he got, the faster he improved. At 14 he could barely manage 16 but just two years later he was already attempting 128. In the past month since he had first manifested that number he could feel the rapid improvement. The exhilaration of his multitasking and control getting slightly but noticeably better after each session. With those emotions filling him, he tried to move the lights.
It was hard. Half of them barely flickered when he tried to send them all on predetermined routes. Some didn’t move at all while a few actually collapsed, deprived of their source by Irwyn’s insufficient focus. Even those that moved weren’t perfect, oftentimes shooting off course. Occasionally two collided, causing a brilliant explosion. Irwyn maintained this for a minute. Then 10. At 15 sweat was pouring down his face and he felt the beginning of dull pain at the back of his head from the continuous focus, more and more mistakes happening. At 17 he finally slipped, the entire spell dispersing in one last bloom of light.
Irwyn collapsed into the bed, the room once again completely dark. He finally felt the horrible headache coursing through him, downright paralyzing together with the mental exhaustion but still there was a wide grin on Irwyn’s face. It was just a tiny bit longer than yesterday.
He just lay there for 10 minutes as the headache receded and his sweat dried. The exhaustion passed quickly enough, thankfully, and he returned to normal; normal being a fair bit tired after a long day but without most of that debilitating fatigue he had come to associate with complex casting. So he began the next exercise:
In the dark room 5 beams of light emerged. Despite that, they shed almost no light. They were focused to the point that only their targets were illuminated, 4 books. So Irwyn shut his eyes, focused, and read out: “The reindustrialisation; a summary. The Legend of the Duke of Wrath. Strange sects of the Black Duchy. The 9 duchy Federation; a traveler’s guide.” All titles from his ‘history or close enough’ section. Then he opened his eyes, moved the lights to another section and closed them again. It took him 6 rounds before he had to stop.
Despite the seeming simplicity, he was soon sweating no less than in the first exercise.
Even though he was feeling what the light touched in a very limited radius it was overwhelming. The light was focused but it was still light. Some of it spread, dimly covering the whole room. Every grain of dust in the air, every indentation of the wall, every little skittering bug; all were caught in it. And Irwyn had to filter that out and concentrate on the books. Feel that slightest difference in depth compared to the surface, the shift in colour or texture. Then he had to reconstruct all that information into a complete image or at least close enough that his brain could comprehend what it actually was. Even after many years, progress was slow and usefulness limited, daylight or even moonlight being too overwhelming, omnipresent, to grasp anything before he passed out from the strain. Still, Irwyn dreamed of the day when he could grasp all that light touched. Or at least sneak a peek through a wall without passing out.
Next on his routine was flame. Of the 9 elements, Light and Flame called to Irwyn while the rest didn’t even respond to his beckoning. He hadn’t bothered trying for too long before he abandoned learning the rest. If they were so much more difficult to grasp, why bother? It was better to master what he felt fit him perfectly. Probably. Of course, sitting in his library bedroom, Irwyn did not dare to actually juggle a hundred fireballs like he did with light. Even though he could extinguish small flames quickly it was a shortcut to a scorched collection and a really awkward conversation with the Old Crow. No, instead Irwyn manifested just a single sizable ball of flames atop his palms and made it shrink, condense. It only stopped getting smaller when it was the size of his eyeball, then more flame ignited around it, being sucked in. More and more was devoured but that little burning marble, faster and faster. Roughly a minute later it stopped. The flames still appeared around it for a moment but it would take no more. Irwyn smiled as he grasped the saturated pebble of flame.
It was solid to the touch and pleasantly warm. It would probably scorch anyone else, but flames loved Irwyn so he did not burn. He felt the power stored in it though he did not actually understand how mighty it was. Would it burn a person to death? Melt through a wall of wood? Of stone? Irwyn had no idea, he had never dared to use it. There was no place where he could after all. It wasn’t something he could do safely inside the privacy of a building but there was no place outside where an explosion of magical flame wouldn't be seen. Even in the slums, someone would very likely take notice. And it was not like he could just walk out of the city to test out a bit of magic. So with a sigh he began to unravel the magic in his palm, actually taking longer to safely break it apart than creating it, most of that power coursing back into him. Then he reformed and unwove it 10 more times for good measure. It was all about how fast he could do it after all.
Next on his routine was sensing flame rather than light. And it was frankly incomparably easier, considering flame tended to burn anything it directly touched or go out trying. So instead of focusing on his immediate vicinity, Irwyn felt outward and the world expanded. It was different from light. There were still many, many, sources he felt but they were isolated and constant. At most an ember would launch away and hit the ground or maybe even something, but it was so much easier to focus when each hotspot of information was distinctly separate.
He felt a group huddle around a flame contained inside some kind of a barrel, the occasional spark revealing their great shivering numbers. He felt a pyre burning and something writhed on it; perhaps Human, hopefully not, though the shape seemingly matched uncannily; something to mention to the Old Crow tomorrow. He gradually felt the thousands of candles across the slums, at least one disappeared every few moments, often snuffed out or just not replaced this late into the evening; the candles in the main hall below were also felt. He felt the roaring bonfire 2 rooms over…
The roaring bonfire 2 rooms over?
Irwyn jumped out of his bed and sprinted out of his room. The fire was getting bigger every moment, going through an exponential increase. And it was natural fire, meaning Irwyn had to first change it into a magical one before he could even start to smother it. Not a problem with a few candles, a serious issue with a roaring inferno taking up half of the large room.
Irwyn burst through the door and saw only fire, sprawling across the wooden walls, furniture and even the ceiling. How did it get so bad before anyone noticed it? Irwyn could not help but ask himself, releasing as much magic as possible in an attempt to subdue the fire but there was just too much. And Irwyn realized he has next to no experience actually extinguishing big fires like this. He hesitated for just a moment and then jumped straight into the inferno. The flame was not magical but still, flames loved Irwyn. And he did not burn.
Choking on the smoke and general lack of oxygen was a different problem though. Irwyn wanted to curse not taking a deep breath before bursting through the door. The next moment he was through, on the side of the room that wasn't actively burning; yet. There he found Rainer and Kalista staring down at the 10-meter drop under their open window. They were clearly panicking and also very naked.
"Are you alright?" Irwyn yelled and fixated on containing the flames. He couldn't stop them all at once but he could focus on gradually taking them down from one side, now that he knew no one was actively choking to death. He tuned out the outside world and closed his eyes. He could feel the flames, restrained in front of him but still spreading in the other directions, trying to eat right through the walls. To stop them he needed to claim them first, for that he needed to flood them with enough magic to make them burn that instead of the room. So he took a deep breath, choked on the smoke, coughed a few times and then opened the figurative floodgates.
It wasn’t something he had done before but he squeezed as much magic as he could from his body. He felt sudden warmth coursing through his veins and surging out from every pore like an avalanche. It was so much more magic than Irwyn expected, slamming right into the flames, transmuting their very nature; until they no longer burned on wood and oxygen but on magic itself. And then it was his to grasp and control, so he condensed them, much like he had formed a ball of solid flame earlier, except rather than adding to the flame gradually it was all cascading at once. He strained and struggled as the tide of flames surged but eventually, it all turned into a single marble of solid flame on his palm. He breathed in relief and began to slowly and carefully break it apart. That he was familiar with, enough to turn to his two wide-eyed friends, summoning a wisp of light bright enough to illuminate the now dark room.
“Can you please explain to me what the f… what in the world were you doing?” Irwyn felt a surge of rage and fear. If he hadn’t perceived the flame in time…
“I… I think we tipped over the lantern into fabric and didn’t notice?” Rainer said and laughed very nervously. Kalista in the meantime ignored them both and walked into the blackened part of the room, barely flinching at the still considerably hot blackened floor. But most of the heat had left along with the fire.
“Hey! Do you realise what could have happened if I did not notice?” Irwyn raised his voice towards her, angrier. “Even if I got here just a few minutes…”
“Yes Irw, thank you, fuck you.” Kalista snapped at him as she knelt next to a burned pile of something. “It’s all fucking gone,” she muttered.
“I will just let you jump next time then…” Irwyn bristled.
“Yes okay, thank you oh great saviour!” she screamed, shocking Irwyn into silence. “I just almost fucking died, spent minutes thinking about jumping to my probably death and lost all my shit. I might be a bit fucking emotional right now!” she then tried to reach into the still scalding pile, except Rainer grabbed her hand to stop her and dragged her into an embrace; that movement also revealed that she was crying her eyes out, red from the tears and smoke. Irwyn also finally realised what that pile was: Silk. A lot of very expensive and completely incinerated silk that Kalista would always claim from her share whenever they got their hands on some.
“Thank you Irwyn,” Rainer said, shaken but significantly better off than Kalista. “You absolutely saved us there, ok. I will treat you to a meal or something. But please, let us calm down a bit, ok?”
“Yes, sorry,” Irwyn felt a bit guilty for his outburst and sighed, “I will go tell everyone what happened since we probably woke the whole building.”
“No, we didn’t,” Rainer smiled weakly, stroking Kalista’s hair with one hand and pointing up with the other. There Irwyn finally noticed the bit of magic emanating from there that he missed, or rather forgot about, in the earlier adrenaline rush. Just a small inscribed charm with a simple effect: Isolating noise. “That’s why no one heard us screaming for help.”
“Fine, we can deal with this tomorrow morning,” Irwyn sighed, exhaustion from the withdrawing adrenaline washing over him, “Rest well.” He finished and left their room, taking the light with him. Thankfully, no one was running around and asking questions about the noise, though that same enchantment had almost made the situation into an absolute disaster.
Tired and upset, Irwyn went into his room and fell asleep, forgoing the rest of his routine.