I open my eyes. My body feels different -- not in a significant way, just enough to notice. I feel almost lighter?
Jemith is staring at me, a perplexed look on their face. “That is all you needed?” They approach me, leaning down. Their eyes aren’t looking at mine, but through mine. “I expected good results from an ‘apprentice’, but this is something else entirely.” Clapping their hands to their knees, they stand back up, eyes pointed skyward, "It's truly a shame beyond shame that I can't spend longer teaching you. If I had years, I shudder to imagine what you could become."
"U-um... Y-your explanation was just very clear, is all." That much is the truth. They told me everything that I needed to know, and I was able to apply it. That had been the case with everything I've ever been taught.
Adeline’s voice chimes in, “See what I mean, Sybil? You’ve got some crazy talent, even this crazy monster acknowledges it.”
I nod.
Jemith cranes their neck to the side, rubbing it as they think. A moment more, and they speak their mind to me, “Your talent lies in magic, that much is clear. I knew that from the moment I witnessed your strings. You wrapped up a dozen or so and controlled them as one with ease.”
I hardly have the heart to tell them that [Flame Generation] once required hundreds.
They tap their finger to their neck, and then finally look back towards me. “It would be a waste for me to teach you more of magic -- in truth, I believe you’ll discover what remains on your own.” Their gaze travels down, lowering towards my hip, “My interest lies in your usage of a dagger. It’s a rare thing indeed to see a mage fascinated by the martial arts.”
I shuffle in place, “I, um.. I had a good teacher. She helped me learn a bit about how to use it, and I had a bit of practice along the way.”
“And I assume you have a sensory skill?”
“M-more or less, yes.”
“How high is your agility, child?”
I’ve hardly been able to keep track myself… My status window opens up from a simple mental command, and I read it over.
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Name: Sybil Sagecrest
Class: Apprentice
Level: 15 (--%)
Mana: (209/230)
Status Points:
* Strength: 6
* Agility: 16 (+3)
* Intellect: 23
* Resilience: 15
* Luck: 14
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Right. “Sixteen. With an additional three from a ring, for a total of nineteen.”
“Oho.. Faster than the average mage, certainly. Did you make the decision, or were you advised to take that path?”
“Err.. I was told that I should invest in agility.. To dodge any attacks that should come my way.”
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They nod, “Very wise. A great deal of mage-type candidates that have come through here have stuck firmly to intellect, and I’ve seen it cost them their lives -- far too many times.” I watch them crack their knuckles underneath the palms of their hands and roll their shoulders, “Then the way forward is quite clear, is it not? We will find a suitable spot, and I will teach you more of the weapon you wield.”
I nod, and so Jemith begins to lead me through the dunes.
I am still taken off-guard by how quiet this place is. No sounds of wildlife or activity, just the sound of our boots meeting sand and the light breeze rolling through the valleys. The stars still glitter and gleam above to spite this barren land. Its beauty is captivating in a strange way, even still. I had heard of deserts far to the west during my apprenticeship, but I know that this is a far cry from what was written in books.
Will anyone believe me if I tell them of this place? Is it even somewhere that can be visited, or have I stepped beyond the veil and into some place beyond the world I dwelled in before?
Never in my life had I heard of the name ‘Hyperborea’ before this day, and I feel certain that the confusion I hold now will pale in comparison to what the future may bring.
As a pair, we travel through the valleys, never through the dunes. Jemith says that it’s “to lure the predators and purge them swiftly.” I don’t quite understand what they mean by saying that, so I say nothing.
“You.. Mentioned that this place was different before the ‘Awakening Event’, what did you mean?”
Jemith peers back to me, and then nods, “Yes, indeed! I did mention that.” They turn away from me, arms outstretched as they begin in another dramatic speech, “There are some details I may regale you with, and others I may not. Yet, I will do my best to ensure you develop a complete picture of this tale.”
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Once upon a time, a prosperous seat of civilization took hold in this land, where the Sea of Mana comes to one point. ‘Hyperborea’ is what the people called it, even the outsiders who knew naught save for its near-mythical status. A land blessed by magic, suffused in vitality and energy to the point that its people, flora, and fauna were brimming with it.
The center of Hyperborea was home to a great tree larger than any other, its canopy extending for miles past its trunk. Countless branches jutted out, from titanic to miniscule as they extended outward. The highest points of the canopy pierced even through the clouds. Its leaves were a verdant green that stood as a testament to the force of life coursing throughout its roots. Flowers of all manner of colors sprouted on the vines which grew on those branches, and the people loved making adornments and accessories out of them.
At the base of the tree, surrounding its trunk, the people built a sacred city that would serve to house them and their ways. And so it was that way for thousands of years, an unchanging people with unchanging lives in an unchanging city. Pure white bricks throughout every building and street, gilded trees rising up at each turn. The people themselves were skilled artisans beyond measure, and capable in the sciences and in magicks.
The peak of perfection, and yet… Perfection gave way to stagnation.
The land had cemented itself in myths and legends throughout the rest of the world as a spiritual land, one where there was no want or suffering. One where everything and everyone could live in peace and happiness. However, even those myths and legends began to fade into obscurity.
Hyperborea’s firmament shook as the Sea of Mana rippled. This place, almost half-made of magic itself, resonated and reverberated in response. Crisis struck the land, and the people were unable to respond in spite of their efforts. There was nothing to be done. They made their home atop a volatile place, and their peace came to an end without a fight.
The bountiful fields of grain and grass turned to sand swifter than anything else, and the tree’s branches, roots, and trunk all decayed. Hyperborea was deprived of its hold on mana, and it was instead gifted to the world.
What remained was a wasteland, the small bits of rubble left behind covered by wandering dunes. Fel beasts wander there, seeking to drain the life of anything that appears.
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“You see, that distribution of mana was a part of the Awakening Event. But.. That is all I can say, I’m afraid.” Jemith turns to face me again, and smiles, “Still, I hope your curiosity has been sufficiently sated by the tale. As for me, I find it to be very interesting.”
I nod. Adeline doesn’t appear or say anything to what I’ve heard, and it brings me discomfort.
“Our destination is close, and after you’re allowed some rest, I do believe the two of us will train until your body cannot train anymore.”
And so, we continue to walk. It reminds me of my journey with Adeline -- it almost feels like a lifetime ago.