"So, if I'm understanding you correctly," Ebonheim began, her tone measured, "you're saying that the Akashic System is at the heart of all magic, and that gods—me being one of them—are its agents?"

Th'maine nodded again, "Precisely." He locked eyes with her, his gaze intense. "I believe that the gods are essentially agents of the Akashic System. They are the living embodiments of the Arcane, granted personality and agency by the system itself."

Ebonheim blinked at this, her mind whirling. She thought back to her own mysterious origins—the collective will and wishes of the villagers manifesting her existence. No...it wasn't the system that gave her life, right? The system heard the villagers' prayers, granted them the power to manifest their will, and then...then she came into being? Did the system create her, or did the villagers?

It felt like a brick had dropped into her stomach and was now rolling around in there as she considered the implications. Her existence...her very nature...could be explained by something as simple as an interaction between the Akashic System and the mortal world?

No. That wasn't quite right—at least, she didn't think so.

"That... that's a bold claim, Th'maine," she finally managed to say, skepticism seeping into her voice.

Th'maine merely nodded, seemingly unperturbed by her disbelief. "It's a radical thought, I know. But consider this: gods acquire Mana from their worshippers, yes? The more faith and worship they receive, the stronger they grow."

Well, he wasn't wrong about that, but also wasn't quite right. She didn't have Mana, she had Essence. And she didn't receive Mana from the villagers, it was Quintessence. Even so, she kept quiet. It wasn't as though she could argue with him about the exact details.

"What are you getting at with all this?" she asked with a frown as she leaned forward again. "Why would the Akashic System need gods? Why us?"

Th'maine took a deep breath, his gaze softening. "I think it's about balance, Ebonheim. The Akashic System tasks the gods with keeping mortal progress in check, preventing them from overreaching. If a mortal civilization reaches the brink of its understanding and becomes too powerful—becomes too advanced—the system will intervene. Gods could serve as checks on mortals' power."

Ebonheim fell silent again as she mulled this over. Her skepticism was not diminished. She knew she had come into being because of the will and belief of the villagers. She was born out of need, love, and faith—not by the cold machinations of some impersonal system. As part of the village, he should know that. But she chose to hold her tongue, nodding for Th'maine to continue.

"That's the theory," he added after a while, "it's not something I've proven."

"So where does all this lead you?" Ebonheim asked. "What do you need from me?"

Th'maine hesitated again, and Ebonheim couldn't help but feel like he was holding something back from her—but this time, he seemed to weigh his words carefully before speaking again. "You are different than most gods," he explained. "In fact, you might be the only god I've encountered that seems...more like a mortal. I'm privy to your origin," he added, holding up his hand to stop her from interrupting him. "No god had ever been born from the faith of mortals before. They've always arrived from without—always from the fringes of the world. They come bearing the aura of divinity and the promise of salvation, of prosperity, and power in exchange for the worshipper's faith."

Ebonheim pursed her lips again, not exactly liking where this was going.

"You are different, Ebonheim. I don't believe that you are its agent. I believe the Akashic System has changed...or perhaps evolved," Th'maine explained, his voice hushed and urgent as he leaned forward in his chair. "If you are now the sole example of a mortal-born god, then perhaps you could be our way to...break through. To unveil the truths hidden in the Akashic System."

Ebonheim blinked at him. Uncover truths? Like how exactly?

"What does that mean?" she finally managed to say, her tone growing louder with each word. "Are you asking me to seek out answers for you?"

Th'maine nodded. "Yes. You might be the only one who could uncover the truth. The other gods? I doubt any of them can even fathom the idea of prying open the secrets of the Akashic System."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to organize her thoughts again. She was beginning to understand his intent, but at the same time, she didn't like it at all. Something in the back of her mind was telling her that she shouldn't pry into this any further—that it might be dangerous to even consider it. But maybe Th'maine was onto something and there was something in her mind that was causing her to withhold the knowledge she had? Or even something compelling her into resisting his wild theories?

Ebonheim took a deep breath, opening her eyes again and meeting Th'maine's gaze. "Your theory is... intriguing, to say the least."

"Indeed," Th'maine agreed, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back in his chair again. "But it's just that, a theory. I cannot prove anything by myself. But with your help, perhaps we could."

Ebonheim sighed and crossed her arms, her gaze drifting to the floor as she considered his request. On one hand, this sounded dangerous and risky. On the other hand, if Th'maine was on to something—even if it was just a wild guess—then shouldn't they explore this? Shouldn't she be willing to help him?

If she was being honest with herself, there was a tiny part of her that was curious about this idea. Maybe she should look into it with Th'maine's help, even if she didn't believe she could be the agent of the Akashic System. Even if she didn't fully understand her own nature, she didn't feel like she was wrong about what she believed. And, well, this might be the only chance she got to figure out what she really was.

"Alright," she finally said, nodding slowly. "What do we do first?"

Th'maine seemed relieved by her response as he straightened up again and pushed back his chair, rising from his seat. "First," he said as he gathered his papers and placed them into a neat pile on his desk, "we have to understand how the Akashic System works—or at least, how the gods interface with the system. Would you be willing to aid me in this endeavor?"

Ebonheim took a deep breath, her gaze darting to the window beside her as she contemplated his question. There was no harm in it, right? It didn't seem like anything dangerous or too reckless. So why not?

She nodded again, and Th'maine smiled, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. "That's wonderful," he said, a glimmer of excitement shining in his eyes. "Then let's begin."

He began pacing in front of her, his questions came in quick and fast, like a deluge in the monsoon season. "So, how do you access the Akashic System?" he asked, and Ebonheim's gaze snapped up to meet his again. "Is there an incantation or ritual you must perform?"

Ebonheim hesitated before answering. "No, nothing like that. I just...know how to reach it," she finally said, waving her hand in the air as though trying to describe the phenomenon to herself. "It's like a thought at the back of my mind. If I need something from it, I think about it, and the system responds."

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Th'maine hummed and nodded his head thoughtfully as sat down again. He began writing in his book, his eyebrows furrowed as he jotted down notes. "Could you consult the system if you had any questions, queries? Like a mentor or guide?" Th'maine continued, leaning forward, his quill poised over his parchment.

She nodded in response, shifting her weight in her seat uncomfortably. "Yes," she said, "I suppose you could say that. It answers in its own way."

"Mhmm," Th'maine hummed again, scribbling away in his notebook as he ignored her discomfort. "And how does the system...appear to you? Is it a being? A voice in your head?"

That question gave her pause. How could she explain something so intrinsically strange and otherworldly? She considered her answer, the familiar sight of glowing letters and screens coming to her mind. "It's neither, Th'maine," she began. "It's... difficult to describe. The system...it manifests itself in a form that I can interact with. It...it appears as screens with glowing letters, floating in the air before me. I can see them, and they display all the information I need."

Th'maine squinted, his forehead creasing as he tried to grasp her words. "Floating screens, you say? Like... magical parchment suspended in the air?"

"Not exactly," she sighed, feeling the inadequacy of words in describing this phenomenon, "They aren't physical objects. Only I can see them, and they just... appear when I need them."

"Is there a screen present right now?" Th'maine asked as he leaned forward again, his attention on her face as if searching for something—for what, she didn't know.

Ebonheim shook her head. "No," she said, "it's not active."

Th'maine nodded again and continued to write, his lips pursed in concentration. Ebonheim found herself fidgeting again, her fingers tapping against the tabletop as she tried to keep herself still.

"Does the system only respond to you?" Th'maine asked as he peered up again, his gaze piercing hers.

"I think so. But you can try asking it something right now."

Th'maine paused and studied her face again, then straightened up in his chair and cleared his throat. "Alright," he said, "O' great system that houses all knowledge and power, will you please appear before me?"

Silence. Ebonheim stared at him expectantly as he glanced at her, but nothing happened. After a few seconds, Th'maine cleared his throat again. "It didn't work."

Ebonheim shrugged again. "I didn't think it would. But it was worth checking to be sure."

Th'maine sighed and sat back down, picking up his quill again, "Let us continue, then. Does the system have an... essence, a distinct magical signature?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with scholarly fervor.

"I... I don't know," Ebonheim admitted. "It's not something I've considered."

"But surely, you must feel some sort of magical force when you interact with it?" Th'maine persisted.

Ebonheim thought for a moment. "It's not so much a force as... a presence, an awareness," she said, hoping her answer would suffice.

Th'maine, to his credit, was nothing if not relentless. He continued his barrage of inquiries, each one more detailed and esoteric than the last. His quill danced over his parchment, capturing Ebonheim's responses as best as he could.

"Does the system ever refuse you?" Th'maine asked, his eyes flickering with a thousand unspoken thoughts.

"I wouldn't say refuse," Ebonheim replied, "It doesn't respond to everything. Some things remain... elusive."

Th'maine's brows furrowed, but he nodded, "And if you were to request something from the system, would you receive it?"

"Often, yes," Ebonheim answered. "But not always. There seem to be certain... rules, restrictions."

Th'maine's quill paused, he looked up, his gaze piercing. "What kind of restrictions?"

The question caught Ebonheim off guard. She hadn't contemplated the limitations in such explicit terms before. "It's difficult to explain... It's as if the system itself has a will, a purpose. It guides, but also withholds."

"Interesting," Th'maine whispered, his eyes gleaming, "a will... an intent. Yes, that fits well with my theories."

As the discussion progressed, she found herself wondering about the boundaries of her knowledge. Th'maine's questions forced her to view her connection to the Akashic System from a different perspective. She realized that despite her familiarity with it, there was still so much she didn't understand. Each answer she provided seemed to uncover a myriad of new questions.

Th'maine, for his part, looked no less perplexed. His initial excitement was slowly replaced by a contemplative silence. Ebonheim watched as he tried to fit the pieces together, his expression a mix of awe and confusion. Despite his evident struggle, there was a spark of understanding in his eyes, a tiny flame in the vast darkness of the unknown.

The office had grown silent, with only the occasional scratching of Th'maine's quill echoing within its walls. Ebonheim watched as the Arcanist stared at the parchment, seemingly lost in thought.

“Does it show you the past, or the future?” Th'maine's voice broke the silence, his eyes never leaving the paper as he asked the question.

Ebonheim considered it, her brow furrowing slightly. “The past, yes. The System can recall certain events, but the future...” she paused, shaking her head. “I've never tried asking it about the future."

Th'maine jotted down her response, nodding slowly. “So it seems the System doesn't hold omniscience then, or at least, it doesn't share everything with its users."

“Perhaps," Ebonheim agreed, the corners of her lips lifting into a small, thoughtful smile. “Or maybe it's a limitation placed on me, not the system."

He took a moment, absorbing her words before finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. His eyes bore into hers, intense and questioning. “Does it feel separate from you? Or does it feel like a part of you?"

Again, she was taken aback by his question. She had never considered her relationship with the system in such terms before. After a moment's hesitation, she answered, "It feels... both. It's separate in that it seems to have its own consciousness, its own rules. But it also feels a part of me, as if it were a second skin, or perhaps another sense."

The room fell silent once more as Th'maine returned to his writing. His quill moved swiftly across the parchment, the words pouring out of him in an unsteady stream. Ebonheim watched as his brow furrowed, his fingers gripping the quill tighter with each passing second.

Hours passed as they delved deeper into the mysteries of the Akashic System. The room filled with the hum of their conversation, interspersed with thoughtful silences.

By the time Ebonheim looked out the window, the night had spread its cloak across the land, and the stars were strewn across the sky like glittering diamonds. Their dialogue had been exhaustive, both enlightening and draining. But when she turned back to Th'maine, she saw not a trace of fatigue. His eyes still gleamed with that unquenchable thirst for knowledge, their light a testament to his relentless pursuit.

Eventually, Th'maine put his quill down, heaving a sigh of relief. His eyes, glazed with deep thought, met Ebonheim's. A mixture of satisfaction and confusion flashed across his face as he leaned back in his chair.

“I still can't fully comprehend the breadth of what you're describing," he admitted, his voice filled with equal parts awe and frustration. “It's like trying to describe color to someone who was born blind. But, I believe...I understand more than I did before. This has been... enlightening."

Ebonheim could only nod, unable to do much more than agree with him. She sat there, dazed and still trying to wrap her head around their conversation. It was like unraveling a tapestry, only to find more threads to be unraveled. Every answer she provided opened a door to new questions.

"So...does that mean that we're done?" she asked, her voice trailing off as her gaze drifted to the stack of parchments on the desk.

Th'maine glanced at them, then turned his gaze back to Ebonheim, his lips twitching into a wry smile. "Not quite," he said, shaking his head as he continued, "I have more questions for you, many more. But those can wait. For now, we have made a good start."

A wave of relief swept over Ebonheim as she slumped against her chair and heaved a sigh. Finally, they could stop. After hours and hours of discussions and debates, Ebonheim felt like she had just been dragged across a field at full sprint.

Th'maine rose to his feet and patted Ebonheim on the shoulder. "Thank you, Ebonheim," he said as he gathered his papers and stuffed them into his satchel. "This has been a fruitful discussion indeed."

"Of course," Ebonheim replied with a tired smile, rising to her feet as well. "I hope it helped."

Th'maine's smile brightened as he slung his satchel over his shoulder and nodded his head. "More than you know," he said as he stepped outside, his hand on the door. "You have my gratitude. We will talk more soon."

With another wave, he left, leaving Ebonheim standing in the middle of Engin's study, utterly exhausted.