9th day of Frostflee, 1368

[Quintessence] 10718/16000

Spring arrived, bringing with it the promise of warmer days and green fields. Life in Ebonheim had returned to normal, or at least, what constituted as normal in this valley. The inhabitants of Ebonheim had gradually returned to their normal routines after spending most of the winter holed up in their homes to protect themselves from the cold weather. Only a select few remained outdoors throughout the bitter months; mostly the hunters who continued to do their patrols.

Engin had packed all the essentials for his two-week journey to the neighboring city west of the Eldergrove. Bjorn, Thorsten, and a few other village guards would join him as he set out on his merchant venture to trade the gold ingots from the mine.

Having already prepared for the trip, Engin now stood in the village feast hall, enjoying a few hearty bites of food to fuel his energy for the journey ahead. Bjorn and Thorsten stood nearby, each with a mug of ale in hand as they listened to Engin's latest musings on politics and economics.

"Such an era of change," Engin mused, his gaze far off as he watched the flames in the hearth. "Alliances are formed and broken with little consideration for the repercussions, but it matters not—each nation works to strengthen their hold over their own people while pushing their rivals further down."

Bjorn grunted in agreement and took a hearty gulp of his ale as Thorsten merely stood there, listening, his gaze distant as though he wasn't even there.

"How does such a terrible world even come to be?" Engin shook his head and sighed. "It is only by the grace of our benevolent goddess that we have been spared from this madness."

Bjorn took another swig from his mug, a faint smile playing on his lips, "Yes," he agreed, his voice growing softer. "Ebonheim has blessed us."

"Did someone just praise me?" Ebonheim appeared in the doorway leading into the feast hall, her gaze bright as she sauntered towards the group. "Ooooh, my heart is about to burst!"

A few chuckles broke out as people turned to greet Ebonheim's arrival. She approached the table with a delighted smile on her face, her features a mixture of childlike innocence and divine wisdom—well, her wisdom was still being cultivated.

Engin smirked and nodded his head to the village's resident goddess, "Yes," he said, "the villagers have been praising you quite a lot recently. You've been working hard to improve our lives and provide for us."

"Have I?" Ebonheim asked as she leaned forward and glanced at Bjorn and Thorsten, who merely chuckled in response. "Well, I'm glad to know my people are doing well. Are you all set to depart today?"

Engin nodded and stood up, pushing back his chair. "I believe so," he said, "though I do still need to make sure we have enough food and water for the journey."

Bjorn gulped down the last of his ale and joined Engin as they made their way outside. Thorsten remained standing by Ebonheim's side as they watched the two men exit the feast hall. "So, what's on your mind?" she asked, peering at him curiously.

Thorsten blinked, his thoughts returning to the present moment. "Hmm?" he asked, his gaze slowly turning to meet hers.

"You seem like you have something on your mind," she said, her lips forming a small smile as she glanced at him. "Out with it."

Thorsten sighed, glancing at her and then back at the doorway where the men had vanished through. "It's been a while since I last took part in a long journey," he said, his brows furrowing as he returned his gaze to Ebonheim again. "Not to mention the city we'll be going to is...not exactly one I'd care to visit."

Ebonheim shrugged her shoulders and turned to face him again, her lips forming into a half-smile as she inched closer to him. "Oh?" she asked, her tone curious as she tilted her head to the side. "Is the great Thorsten Gustafsson worried about visiting a city? I would have never thought!"

Thorsten blinked and straightened up, his brows furrowing again. "Wha—no," he said with a frown. "Don't be ridiculous."

Ebonheim giggled and elbowed him in the side, her eyes glinting with mischief. "C'mon," she said with a bright smile, "what's there to fear? You'll be surrounded by friends on this journey!"

Thorsten huffed and turned away from her, crossing his arms against his chest as he scowled in her direction, but there was no bite to his tone as he spoke again, "It's nothing. I'm just not used to seeing such a large number of people in one place."

With a quick pat on his back, Ebonheim smiled and reached out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You'll be fine," she said, "just think of it as an adventure! New sights, new smells, and most importantly, new people you can meet!"

Thorsten snorted and shook his head. "Perhaps," he muttered.

Ebonheim rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove. "Stop sulking!" she said with a laugh as she started to walk off towards the village commons. "Don't be such a grump!"

With a reluctant nod, Thorsten followed after her, a small smile crept on his face as he lumbered along in her wake.

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It took until the afternoon before Engin, Bjorn, and Thorsten were ready to depart Ebonheim. The men packed their belongings onto the two-horse cart Engin had prepared, along with a few canvases to use as makeshift tents and bedrolls for the journey ahead.

Engin turned to Ebonheim and placed a hand on her shoulder. "We should be back within a month's time," he said with a reassuring smile, "though I may be delayed if my contacts are busy."

Ebonheim nodded and smiled back, "Alright," she said, "just be careful on your journey. We'll be waiting here for you."

"We'll be back soon enough," Thorsten grumbled as he reached for his bag and hefted it over his shoulder. "C'mon, Bjorn."

Engin sighed and shook his head in exasperation as he watched the two men walk off with their bags, muttering to each other under their breath. Then he turned back to Ebonheim. "I'm trusting that you'll take care of my daily tasks while I'm gone," he said as he gave her a stern look. "You remember all that I taught you?"

Ebonheim fiddled with her hair and nodded her head, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. "O—of course, I remember," she said with an unsteady voice. "Everything will be fine, I promise."

Engin sighed and shook his head again. "I have my doubts," he muttered as he patted her on the head, "but you've proven yourself to be quite resourceful."

Ebonheim smiled and rolled her eyes playfully as she reached up to pat Engin on the back. "See you soon," she said as she guided him towards his cart, "make sure you bring back a few good stories!"

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

With a laugh, Engin nodded his head and climbed onto his cart, clucking at his horse to get it moving. Bjorn and Thorsten clambered onto the back of the cart and sat on a bundle of blankets and rolled up furs. Another cart manned by a few other guards trailed behind Engin's.

Ebonheim waved until their cart vanished into the distance, then sighed as she turned away and walked back towards the village, her hands on her hips as she made her way to Engin's house.

For now, she had work to do—a lot of it.

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A gentle breeze rustled the papers strewn across Engin's oak desk as Ebonheim perused over his notes with a puzzled expression on her face. "Alright," she said, "so this is an estimate of all the gold we've mined?"

It seemed like a lot, although she didn't really have much to compare it to. Engin had taught her about currency and trade, as well as economics and all the many ways people managed to create wealth by either bartering goods or exchanging money. It was all a bit complicated, but Ebonheim had paid attention and tried to keep track of everything as much as she could.

The village had no use for money, so the gold had just been sitting in Engin's cellar until he left to sell it. While he was gone, Ebonheim had taken it upon herself to go through every account Engin had meticulously noted down—each one describing how much gold they had mined, along with the gold's estimated value.

"There's quite a lot," she mused to herself as she looked over Engin's notes again, "but I wish the mines had gems instead. They're much prettier to look at."

She continued to flip through the documents, looking over Engin's observations and scribbles. The usual steady hum of life outside the window comforted her as she carefully traced her finger over Engin's writing, humming to herself as she reached for the next set of papers.

Just as she moved to the next page, a soft knock echoed through the room. It was a pattern she recognized. Th'maine. Ebonheim looked up from the parchment, a smile tugging at her lips. The old Arcanist had an uncanny ability to turn up just when she least expected him.

"Come in," she called out, her voice echoing through the study.

The door creaked open, revealing the familiar figure of Th'maine. His brown robes seemed to have seen better days, and his eyes, always brimming with enigmatic intent, searched hers for a moment before he strode in.

"Ebonheim," he greeted with a nod, his attention now on the parchment in her hand. "I see you've been keeping busy."

"Just taking care of a few things while Engin's away," Ebonheim replied, gesturing for him to take a seat opposite her.

Th'maine hesitated for a moment, then finally eased into the chair. His gaze drifted back to her, his expression guarded as always, almost as if he didn't want to say anything, but there was always an uneasiness to his stance that suggested otherwise. "Ebonheim," he began, and something in his tone told her this was not a casual conversation. "I've given our previous discussion much thought. About the Akashic System, its secrets..."

Ebonheim felt a twinge of apprehension as he spoke the words again. It had been a while since they last spoke about it, and Ebonheim had nearly forgotten all about it until now. Last time Th'maine broached this topic, it was clear he was treading on uncharted territory.

"I recall," she replied, her fingers drumming lightly on the table. "And?"

"I ask your cooperation once again," Th'maine continued, his voice hesitant. "I believe...I believe the time is right for us to pursue the truth."

Ebonheim paused, her gaze dropping to the document in her hand. His request echoed in her ears, weighing heavily against the silence in the room. She could deny him, send him on his way. Yet, as she looked at Th'maine with his weary eyes staring at her, she found herself nodding before she could stop herself.

"Alright," she replied, "where do we start?"

Th'maine seemed to relax, a sigh escaping him as he ran his fingers through his gray beard. "We begin with our own histories," he said, "the history of the arcane."

Ebonheim leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and folding her hands as she gave him her full attention. This sounded much more interesting than what she had been doing up until now. Was this just an excuse for her to procrastinate on her work? Maybe. Was Engin around to call her out on it? No. Was she a little concerned that Th'maine was delving into divine secrets that even she was not privy to? Very concerned.

And yet, she was still curious. So far, she hadn't really thought of why the Akashic System even existed, why she had this intimate connection to it, or what its role is in this world. This could be her chance to find out.

"The basis of our understanding of Mana," he began, meeting Ebonheim's gaze, "comes from the works of Arcanists of yore. They postulated that Mana is not merely some form of energy; instead, it's the capacity of the mortal mind to interface with the Arcane."

Mana? What did this have to do with the Akashic System? Ebonheim had to stop herself from blurting out her questions to Th'maine, but she was soon engrossed in his words again as he continued.

"Mana is often misinterpreted as some form of energy. It's not. Mana is the capacity of the mortal mind to comprehend and manipulate the Arcane." Th'maine took a breath before continuing. "At least, that's how the first Arcanist, Elaedria, believed Mana to be. Based on what she had learned through her research, she theorized that every sentient being possesses this capacity for Mana—that Mana is not something unique to a particular creature."

Ebonheim leaned back in her chair, her brows furrowed. "So, it's not an energy source, but rather a form of cognition?"

"Precisely," Th'maine said, nodding approvingly. "A mind capable of holding more Mana is simply one that better understands the Arcane's intricacies."

"And the Arcane?" Ebonheim prodded, intrigued despite her initial reservations.

"The Arcane, or Arcana, as it's often called, is the very magic that we Arcanists tap into," Th'maine elaborated, his hands moving as if to physically weave his words into existence. "It's a rich tapestry of spells, rituals, and enchantments, all woven into the fabric of our reality."

He gestured towards the symbols on the parchment, his fingers hovering over each one as he explained. "Druidry, Shamanism, even the outstanding abilities of warriors like Thorsten and Bjorn... they are all different expressions of the Arcana. They have distinct traditions, rituals, and interpretations, yes, but ultimately, they all tap into the same underlying weave of magic."

"So Druidry, Shamanism... they're different threads of the same tapestry?" Ebonheim asked as she cocked her head to the side. That seemed a little bit strange. If they all had similar traits, why was their practice so different? Wouldn't that mean a druid like Hilda could learn and use magic like Th'maine does?

"Indeed," Th'maine agreed, his gaze focusing intently on her. "They might differ in technique or form, but they all tap into the same source of magic. The Akashic System, as we've come to call it."

Her eyes widened. Wait... was he saying that the Akashic System was some sort of repository for all magic? Then what was its connection to gods? Maybe there had been some sort of misunderstanding in the early research. Surely...

"You believe that all magic is stored and administered by the Akashic System?" Ebonheim asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Isn't that a bit far-fetched?"

Th'maine grinned before answering, as if he had been waiting for her to ask this question. "Far-fetched? No. This is an ancient hypothesis, passed down through generations of Arcanists. We believe that the Akashic System is a divine repository of all magic, holding the patterns of every spell ever cast and every energy ever conjured."

As he spoke, his face softened, his gaze drifting past her to the window, where sunlight streamed through the frost-covered glass. "Imagine if you could learn every single spell known to the world in a single instant. All the knowledge, all the wisdom, and all the secrets of the Arcane, stored in a single place, accessible at a moment's notice. How would you even describe such a paradise? Such an impossibility?"

Ebonheim fell silent as she mulled over what he said. She had no idea where Th'maine was going with all this, but he seemed confident in his theory. It was a bold claim, to be sure—but she herself had tapped into that wellspring of knowledge since inception.

"Such an idea," Th'maine said softly, his eyes still focused elsewhere, "such a dream. All the wisdom, all the knowledge, all the secrets of the Arcane, at our fingertips. We Arcanists have long sought this paradise."

Ebonheim pursed her lips as she absorbed this information. She glanced at Th'maine again, searching his eyes for any sign of misgiving—and for once, she could read his expression clearly. Th'maine didn't think this was an exaggeration. No, he believed it was something more.

"So," she mused aloud, "If the Akashic System is the storehouse of all magic and Mana is your capacity to harness it, then what does that have to do with me?"

Th'maine opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated again; his hands clasped in front of him as he stared at her for a moment longer before he finally spoke in a hushed tone, "Because I have reason to suspect...that gods are agents of the Akashic System."