Chapter Thirteen: Asking a Pegasus Not to Fly

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The architecture grew increasingly elaborate as they neared the faculty offices. Gold and silver filigree adorned the doorways. The atmosphere shifted to a hushed reverence, a solemn acknowledgment of the power within the Archmage's office.

Massive double doors, intricately carved with scenes of cosmic phenomena and magical rites, loomed before them. They swung open silently at their approach, revealing a vast, high-ceilinged office. Shelves lined the walls, brimming with ancient tomes and glowing artifacts that hummed with untold power.

A satyr, legs crossed as he read a thick, dusty tome, barely glanced up. His desk, polished to a sheen, bore a plaque reading "Assistant to the Archmage."

"You can wait here," the satyr said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "The Archmage is finishing with someone. I am the Assistant Archmage."

Dex looked down at the plaque. “Says here, Assistant TO the Archmage.”

“Same difference.” The satyr said dismissively. They both sat, deciding not to push it.

Marcus stormed out, a sneer twisting his lips before disappearing down the hall.

"Dude, what’s that guy's problem?" Jace asked.

Dex sighed, frustration tinging his voice. "Believe it or not, we were friends back at Mythos High."

Before Jace could press further, the “assistant” looked up. "You can go in now."

At the center of the room, behind a massive oak desk, sat the Archmage. He regarded Jace and Dex with a mixture of curiosity and intensity.

"Jace, Dex, step forward," he commanded. “I'm assuming you are smart enough to know why you're here,” he began, his tone brooking no nonsense.

Dex jumped in, "We were only trying to—"

The Archmage raised a hand, silencing him. "Dex, I know your history. Your high school principal warned me about you."

Dex's face flushed. "He started it. We just—"

"Marcus is a known provocateur, this is true," the Archmage cut in, leaning forward. "But that does not excuse your actions. This is a place of learning, of discipline. You must rise above petty squabbles. I have over five-thousand students to manage and a staff of four-hundred with enough bickering and problems to last me a lifetime. Please don't make me deal with yours."

Jace felt a surge of defiance, but forced himself to stay calm.

Don’t cause any more trouble. Jace reminded himself. Stay under the radar.

"We understand, sir. It won't happen again."

The Archmage studied him for a long moment before nodding. “See that it doesn't. Now, I must officially ask if either of you wishes to elevate this conflict to Council Arbitration?”

Dex and Jace exchanged glances before shaking their heads. "No, sir," Jace said firmly.

"Good. Arbitration involves a lot of paperwork and headaches, and expulsion would be on the table for all three of you. Since this is a first infraction and no one wishes to escalate the issue, I will simply issue a formal reprimand to all involved. A second infraction will not be dealt with so lightly."

Before they could protest, he added with finality, "That will be all."

As they turned to leave, the Archmage spoke again. "Jace, hold back a minute. I have something to discuss with you in private."

With a concerned glance at Jace, Dex left the room, leaving him alone with the Archmage.

Theon opened a drawer and produced a small tin, its metal gleaming softly in the dim light. "Care for one?" he asked, holding out a small, orange-filled cookie, its delicate surface glistening with a thin layer of sugar that sparkled in the room's muted glow.

"No, thank you."

With a shrug, he bit into the cookie, a slow smile spreading as the tangy citrus filled his senses. "Suit yourself. These are a favorite of mine, straight from the Western Isles. They say the oranges there are kissed by the sun goddess herself during the harvest festival, when the air is so thick with the scent of blossoms it feels like you could drown in it. Quite the experience."

Jace nodded, his eyes roaming the room, taking in the artifacts and relics that lined the shelves. A particular piece - a small, intricately carved box - caught his attention, pulsing with faint, golden etchings. The lines moved subtly, connecting to form a cryptic poem, each line replaced by the next as he read.

In Shadow and Light

Destiny Whispers

Beyond the Veil

To Face the Darkness

As the Phoenix Falls

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

For the Fate of All

In Infinite Eternal

"Intriguing, is it not?" Theon's voice pulled Jace back to the present. "It’s is a relic from the last great Convergence, said to contain lost memories of a long-forgotten past."

Jace leaned closer curiously. "Have you ever tried to open it?"

Theon’s smile was enigmatic, his eyes glinting in the box’s strange light. "I have, many times. It seems to require a magical key or a specific incantation. But, alas, some mysteries are better left undisturbed. After all, not everything that glitters is gold, as they say."

Jace frowned, sensing layers of meaning beneath the his words. As their conversation continued, an uneasy feeling gnawed at him - a sense that the Archmage was studying him, weighing each response. There was an undercurrent here, something subtle and elusive.

The Archmage's expression softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. In that moment, he seemed more like an old man than the formidable figure he had been just a moment before. "Much like that box, we all have our secrets, Jace." He paused, his gaze piercing. Jace nodded slowly.

"Secrets that may be wise to keep, at least for now. There are things about you, Jace, things you do not know yourself."

Jace shifted in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. Theon's words carried a veiled warning, one that settled uncomfortably in his stomach. "You are here by means of a scholarship. A scholarship based on tests that I personally oversaw and approved with the support of the High Council. My reputation is, to that degree, tied to your success. When your second-year entrance exams come, I expect you will excel. You know the scholarship must be renewed by exam each year?"

"Yes, I'm familiar," Jace lied, trying to maintain his composure.

"Good. I'll be keeping a close eye on you. Stay out of trouble and don't draw any undue attention to yourself."

“I’ll do my best.” Jace meant it.

Still, something tugged at him, beyond the veiled threats and the unsaid words. There was something else, something familiar in the Theon's eyes. It was a wild thought, but he had to ask. "Sir, are you a Traveler?"

His smile widened slightly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "What makes you ask that?"

Jace hesitated, trying to articulate the feeling that had been gnawing at him. "It's... something I can't quite put my finger on. Travelers and Citizens, they have a different feel. It's strange. Maybe I'm reading too much into it."

The old man nodded thoughtfully. "It's true. And it is a rare perception, indeed. Have you studied your Traveler's Handbook much?"

Jace shook his head.

"Well, I suggest you do. It may offer some interesting perspectives. But yes, I am a Traveler. And I may tell you my story, but not today. What I will tell you is that it took me nearly three hundred years in Terra Mythica to achieve the title of Archmage and find any degree of acceptance among the Citizens. I am the only Traveler on official faculty, beyond an assistant. My senior staff know me and have worked with me for many years. But most here, including many of the Citizens, do not know my true origin, and I would prefer it to remain that way. Much as I am sure there are things about yourself you would prefer to remain secret."

Jace nodded, feeling the weight of his words.

Theon leaned forward, his gaze sharp and penetrating. "One more thing," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "During your fight with Marcus, something unusual happened, didn't it?"

Jace's heart pounded. He felt the memory surge, a flicker of something ancient and powerful. "I... I spoke a Word of Power. I didn't know where it came from or how, but I did."

Theon nodded slowly, his expression grave. "Words of power are not merely learned or memorized. They are discovered, often in moments of great need. A teacher may guide you, but the true understanding comes from within. Some say that words find their Speaker, choosing those who have seen or felt their very essence."

"As a Speaker, you start as a Bronze One when you learn your first Word of Power. You'll gain your second star when you improve your use of that word beyond mere reactionary skill."

"Words have two different ranks that show your Affinity with them: Scope and Proficiency. Simple Words replace simple actions but can be very effective when mastered. Like this," He extended his hand and whispered a guttural sound. It wasn’t a word Jace had ever heard, if you could even call it a word. It was more of a feeling and an image put into vibration and wind, its force palpable to all who could hear it.

"More advanced Words create wider-reaching effects and can handle more difficult tasks," he said, motioning with his hand, twisting the vary air around him, before he dismissed the currents of power. “As you master Words, you gain insight into new ranks, unlocking new domains of magic. To rank up requires rigorous training and Breath or Aether cultivation.”

Jace's mind swirled with confusion and fragments of the moment when he used his Word, as he tried to digest the information he was being told. “Do you remember the word you used?” Theon asked, his tone gentle yet insistent.

Jace tried to recall, but the effort made his head throb. "No," he admitted, frustration edging his voice. "I can't remember."

"Be cautious," Theon warned. "Using a Word of Power without sufficient Breath can deplete you. Different Words require different amounts of Aether to use. Speaking a Word you do not understand can rob you of your ability to speak even at all. Push too far, and the consequences can be dire.” He paused, letting the weight of silence hang in the air. “Jace, it tears at the soul, and fractures the mind. Many have gone mad for less."

Jace felt a chill settle over him. "Don't seek the Word out," the Archmage continued. "It will come to you when you are ready to speak it again. Build your strength.

Learn to manage your Breath. You won't reach the sky by jumping, but by building a tower.”

Beginning with an advanced Word might seem exciting, but it is a double-edged sword. You will have to train even harder and push past your limits. We are limited by the depth of our Aether. One must grow one's lungs, so to speak.”

His voice regained its pleasant, official tone. “Now, you better get going. The Oracle Trial should be starting soon. You will want to find out which Society you belong to.”

The Archmage, traces of the old man vanished, now wore an air of polite formality, his gaze brooking no nonsense. He gave a curt nod, signaling the end of their meeting. Jace turned and walked out, his mind racing. As the heavy doors closed behind him, he glanced at Dex, who was waiting in the hallway.

"What did he say?" Dex asked, his curiosity barely contained.

"To keep out of trouble."

"Just that? Might as well ask a pegasus not to fly."

Jace hoped Dex was wrong, but knew this would be harder than he had thought.

Quest Update

Report to the Archmage.

Quest Complete.

You survived an encounter with the Archmage and didn’t get expelled. Go you

Reward: You get to keep living a lie. Not being expelled, maimed, or dragged into the abyss is reward enough.