The Temple of All Lights, Ravenna City

Fifth Moon, Year 284 of the Ravennan Calendar

At my request, Caleb procured an apprentice’s spellbook for me. I immediately noticed changes in fundamental approaches to handling magic. The mages of this time were clearly taking pains to avoid tapping into the tainted ley lines. I suddenly understood why there were no archmages now. Without accessing that ley line, they were forced to use lesser sources of mana, which would place a strict limit on the amount of power they would be capable of tapping.

That seemed entirely the wrong way to go about things. The tainted mana certainly made my teeth itch, but it works. There had to be a way to draw that power safely. I remembered running into a much smaller version of this problem when a volcano had been tainted with abyssal power thanks to a minor demon taking up residence. My staff! My staff had allowed me to filter out the abyss energy and draw clean mana.

Sadly, my staff had almost certainly been destroyed when the Tower of the Dead had fallen. It would take some time and some significant magical resources to recreate anything close to the complexity and power of my Archmage’s Staff.

But no reason to not get started. I sent Caleb on an errand, seeking the base material I would need, along with a set of woodcarving tools. Thankfully, the church was willing to foot the bill for such necessities.

It took him most of a day to find it in the mage quarter’s markets, but late in the day, he returned with a serviceable set of tools and a five-foot length of lightning-struck cypress.

“Will this work for you, Mistress Ceriss?” After repeated threats failed, actually thumping him once had landed us on a compromise regarding how he addressed me.

I took the gnarled wood in my hands. It was perhaps a quarter section of the trunk, scorched in places from the strike, and riddled with beautiful lines and whorls all through the core of it. The preserved lightning burns would be an excellent framework to build mana channels upon.

I pulsed my magic into the wood. Feeling how it flowed through the material, feeling the shape of potential channel layouts. Finally, I was able to clearly sense the optimal shape for my staff. I poured power into the wood and the room filled with the smell of burning and a small cloud of smoke as the power sheared away the outer chunks of wood, leaving me with a staff, curved and topped with a large and very gnarled knot. The surface was mildly toasted but entirely plain.

I unrolled the tool satchel and selected a fine chisel and hammer. A burst of magical force locked the staff in place a foot over the ground, and I moved around it, chiseling with small precise movements.

I spent perhaps two hours that night, and most of the next three days, bringing the staff to its full potential. I completed mana circuits and engraved arcane symbols of power in precise locations. I carved spaces where gems and other objects could be mounted once they were acquired.

Normally such a staff would be an incredibly versatile object of magical power, capable of a wide variety of effects. This one was unique, so far as I knew, in that its primary function was to act as a mana filter and allow me to use the tainted mana of the nearby ley line.

Compared to my former staff, this was little more than a twig, magically speaking, but it could yet surprise me.

The final day of work on the staff, I summoned Caleb to my quarters. I had bid him stay away so as to allow me to focus, though in truth I greatly missed his quiet presence and reassuring calm.

“All of the runes of power are complete, I have a small amount of polishing to do, then it will be time to infuse the staff with power and see how my skills have weathered the long sleep.”

A few minutes passed quietly, my friend resting in his customary chair as I ran a fine scrap of chainmail over the length of the staff. Satisfied with my handiwork, I placed the mail in its home, rolled up the tool satchel, and set it on the floor.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I sat on the edge of my bed and held the staff horizontally in both hands before me. I closed my eyes and began to chant.

“By the might of Nyr-Phaton the Awakened, and the wisdom of Kalared the Broken, I imbue this item with a portion of my life’s breath. I imbue it with a portion of my death’s parting and a portion of my immortal soul. So it is spoken, and so it must be done.”

I opened my eyes and saw a vibrant red glow emanating from the staff. It dimmed, quickly being replaced by a withering cold. This too faded, and finally, a heliotropic purple aura settled in place on the staff, leaving faint purple afterimages as I moved my new staff.

At the edges of my concentration, I vaguely heard Caleb making quiet sounds of wonderment.

I sent my magical awareness into the staff, testing my work. It would suffice. I broke my intense focus and stretched languidly before rising. I took mild pleasure in the appreciative gaze Caleb gave my curves as I executed that maneuver. His sudden frown when I nearly toppled over rather spoilt the effect. My legs weren’t as steady as I would prefer. Just possibly, I should not have given a measure of my fairly weak life force away quite so soon.

“A necessary sacrifice in the spirit of academic greatness. Endless quest for knowledge, don’t you know?” I said, hoping in vain that he wouldn’t scold me.

“Obviously, Mistress Ceriss. It had nothing to do with your general impatience and insatiable curiosity,” he replied, utterly deadpan.

“Hush, you,” I said, giving him a gentle swat on the arm. I let my hand linger for a half beat too long, smirking and making direct eye contact.

Caleb turned the most gratifying shade of deep burgundy. It can be tough to spot a blush on someone as dusky-skinned as him, but I had come to know the signs very well. I know, he’s far too young, but it had been a while before I went in that shard. Now… I’m not going to take advantage of the boy, but there’s no harm in teasing, right?

Right. Back to the task at hand. I brandished my new staff and sent my hunger for mana through the magical matrix of the tool. The air around me suddenly dropped in temperature. A moment later, I could see my breath. Purple light pulsed around my hands as I felt as if I’d been shoved head-first into a frigid waterfall of magical energy.

My feet left the ground and I levitated in front of Caleb’s shocked eyes. I was wholly unaware, my entire attention consumed by the magical equivalent of drinking a horse’s trough in one gulp.

Pain, exquisite and terrible, wracked my form. I would have cried out if my jaw was not locked in a twisted rictus of agony. Far too late, I realized that my internal mana reservoir had been totally empty.

No longer. A torrent of magical energy flowed through the staff and into my body. Each of the seventeen magical tattoos on my skin flared to blinding life in a rainbow cacophony of color, motion, and sound.

Just as I thought the pain could get no worse, the scrimshaw etchings on my bones illuminated with a brilliant heliotrope that was visible through cloth and flesh alike. Intricate patterns appeared on my shoulder blades, each rib, my hip bone, thigh bones, every bone from my upper arm to my fingertips, and my skull.

My head was thrown back and my jaw finally hinged open as I screamed in agony such as few mortal souls ever endure. The flow of power ceased, and I crashed to the floor in a heap. I wrenched my hands free of the staff, barely noticing the fused skin of my palms tearing free. I curled into a sobbing ball, my bloody hands cradling my head until I mercifully passed out.

I couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds before I woke to the refreshing rush of Caleb’s healing flooding my overstimulated body. I opened my eyes, startled at the lack of pain.

"Ceriss, are you all right?"

“Finally… you used my name.” The words came out as a rasping whisper.

Caleb was on his knees next to where I lay, and I clutched at his arms and drew him to the floor next to me. I curled into his body and cried. The dam had truly broken. The agony of the past few minutes, the horror of being alone in a deeply alien world, mourning the loss of literally everyone I had ever loved, it all came pouring out in a flood of tears, half-choked sobs, and tremors that shook my body like a tree in a hurricane.

Caleb stroked my hair and made soft, murmuring noises of comfort and understanding. More than anything, he simply held me and listened to me ramble, blubber, and wail.

It was catharsis itself. It was incredibly humiliating and utterly necessary. I dashed my pride on the altar of release, unburdening myself of three hundred years worth of grief.

After a time, I calmed and quieted. I remained there, pressed against his body, taking comfort in his closeness and compassion. Eventually, I released my death grip on him and wiped my face on my sleeves, with limited success.

I looked at his warm brown eyes, full of worry and care. This young man, my lifeline to this strange new world, was truly a wonder. I dragged his face down for a firm kiss.

He was too shocked to return it, and after I let go, he started to stammer something, I cut him off, “Don’t worry, I’m not in love or anything. Just wanted to show my appreciation. Thank you, Caleb. I’m in your debt.”

We helped each other to our feet and he gave me a firm hug. “I would do the same for anyone, such is my duty to my god, but I have come to appreciate you as well, Ceriss. Getting to know you has been a privilege.”

I gently patted his cheek, scrubbed my own face again, and said, “That's enough touchy-feely crap. We’ve got magic to do.”