The next thing Sorrinn knew, he and Maeve were standing in front of Lua’s door. His mother was still heated in her resolve to protect her child by preparing him for the worst and she knocked thrice quite forcefully.

Soon, the front door opened. The veiled woman in black hovered into the doorway, head hung low as usual. “Maeve? What do I owe the pleasure?” It felt like he detected a trace of surprise in Lua’s tone, but he wasn’t certain if he was imagining it like monstrous shapes in the dark.

“Sorry if I’m being terse, but you’re from the End, right?”

Sorrinn doubted Maeve had to apologize for that. Lua was the queen of terseness herself.

“That is correct.”

“What do you know about the Silhouettes?”

“Nigh-invulnerable, self-destroying hosts of The Void’s power. I am not privy to much more information surrounding them. Silhouettes do not originate from the End, therefore they are not tethered to it in the same capacity as the Deep Gods or the elders of my people are. Even those who have forsaken their Origin know the ones the Eldorin serve are not to be trifled with. They are wise to steer clear of those depths of Absence where ancient horrors reign. If I may ask, Maeve, what has piqued your curiosity in this subject? It is uncharacteristic of you in particular to inquire of the End.”

Maeve’s expression scrunched beneath her boiling anger. Although, Lua had nothing to do with it and being emotional was counterproductive to her goals. She exhaled all of her frustration and fear out, features loosening up soon thereafter. “Sorrinn had an encounter with one of them about a week ago.”

“And he is still alive, I am pleased to see.” Again, the flat, unchanging tone of Lua’s voice wasn’t doing her any favors in selling her purported joy. “When taking into account the Silhouettes’ record of hunting Luminaries, that is remarkable—nonetheless, expected. Sorrinn is not a typical Luminary, I presume you have realized. As a cursed existence who walks an undefined line between Absence and Origin, Radiance and Abyss, I sensed the immense quantity of Origin he possesses the moment we met. The way it echoes from him is quite soothing to me.” She lifted her head a little and smiled a subtle thing at the little boy.

A hand to her hip, Maeve simultaneously scratched her head and fluffed her hair with vexedly closed eyes and an equally frustrated expression. “You’re far more knowledgeable about all of this Void and magic stuff than I’ll ever be. Could you ever consider helping me prepare him to defend himself? I know it’s a lot to ask—”

“—Yes.”

Maeve stammered a little. “Yes?” She wasn’t expecting such an immediate response.

“Yes.” Lua circled into her house without word or warning. When she returned, two large tomes floated in her orbit. An invisible force guided them nearer to Maeve. “For you. One, a Human translation of the old Elven lores. The other, a collection of Human myths and legends regarding the End.”

Sorrinn never thought he’d see the day his mother was the one lunging onto a pair of books with an eager face that’d give his father a run for his money. He guessed her lack of knowledge about what was going on was part of her frustration. It was impressive Lua was able to sense that inner turmoil, considering how inexpressive she was and all. Perhaps she was more discerning than her outward appearance let on. Obviously. He frequently forgot she was blindfolded, she was so discerning.

“Leave the boy to me. I shall prepare him.”

“Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.” Maeve half-lunged in like she was verged on giving the dark-clad woman a hug, but decided it was far from Lua’s interests at the last moment, abstaining from the urge. “I’ll be right over here if I’m needed.” She lugged her books off to a bench by the wooden fence surrounding Lua’s property. She truly was ready to dig in and educate herself on all of the outlandish happenings relating to him. For some reason, Sorrinn felt proud of that, wearing an adorable, ear-to-ear grin to pair. She certainly hadn’t signed up for all of the hijinks he invited into her life with being a reincarnation. She was right there standing by his side anyway.

“This way, child.” Lua hovered to the other side of the yard, where Sorrinn had demonstrated his spell progress previously. “Stand over there.”

He walked to where she instructed—about fifteen feet ahead of her—and waited for further instruction.

“How is your mastery of conditions progressing?”

His eyes nervously veered off to the side as he scratched his head and kicked his leg. All he could muster in response was a subdued chuckle.

“I see. It has not progressed very far then. I must ask: Out of inability or because you have failed to practice?”

He bashfully tapped the tips of his fingers together, answering, “…I haven’t practiced. It was really hot outside. Sorry.” He didn’t know why he was being all coy. It wasn’t as if she looked or sounded disappointed in him or anything.

“Understood. What I am about to cast is a third-tier Conjuration spell—Dark Domain. Within its area, you will have your mystic wealth suppressed into a state of dormancy and your life force will be slowly siphoned into its abyss, rendering your mind and body weak if they are left unguarded. You will resume your practice of spell conditions within the spell’s area of influence.”

In short, he’d have to continually channel [Ethereal Surge] to actually be able to do anything in the spell. That summer of reading just became the smartest decision he could’ve made. It was thanks to those three months he spent reading and training his skill inside that he was able to channel [Ethereal Surge] for prolonged periods without suffering immediate fatigue at all. If he was off somewhere training his magic instead, it would’ve all been for naught before a Silhouette’s power to cancel out a spell with a short exhale. He would’ve ultimately ended up needing to train the skill anyway. Since he’d shifted gears and had already done it, he was then free to focus on training his application of conditions without inoptimally splitting his focus taming two wild stallions at once.

“Are you ready?”

Sorrinn bounced his head. “I'm ready— Oh!” His hand slung up and restively shook.

“Yes?”

“What if I have to go poo?”

There was a period of drawn silence. “…Everything within the spell is inevitably lost beneath the End, given enough time.”

Pop a squat and go inside. He had her loud and clear. “Kay, I’m ready.”

She raised her left arm as it snappily jerked and locked as if it’d become possessed. Her long sleeve fell, exposing the rapid, jagged spasming of her pale fingers beneath. All five locked into meticulous, jagged, asymmetric hooks. She swept her hand away, her mystic wealth rising and distorting her arm into phantom multiples, before forcefully, violently raking her fingers across the space before her. A gaping tear ripped through the fabric of space thirty-feet above Sorrinn’s head. Through it, an abyss black sludge oozed like running blood. The secretion stretched and warped around his position into the shape of a large, undulating dome of pure, opaque blackness. Soon, the dome sealed, and not a trace of light was allowed to pierce through its walls.

The childish part of his mind buckled before the ever-stretching darkness he was left stranded in alone. That unease was purged once he focused on using [Equanimity].

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

[Active Skill: Equanimity has leveled up to Level 2!]

That felt overdue. [Equanimity] had been his best friend. Probably because of how impactful being able to silence a fear reaction on command was as a toddler. He probably hadn’t used it as much as his fondness of the skill informed him he did. Even when he did, it was for a few seconds at most to keep the fire from growing too unruly.

Through the lens of the skill, the dark wasn’t that big of a deal. He couldn’t see anything but darkness. The sound was pilfered from his throat when he tried to speak and ripped from his ears when he tried to hear. Not even the sound of his heartbeat thrummed in his head. The sole stimulation his sense of self was able to tether itself to was the feeling of his weight bearing down on a physical plane beneath gravity’s influence. It sounded scary in thought, but he was indifferent to it thanks to his skill. He wondered if how he felt then was how psychopaths felt about things that normally frightened people. Perhaps not. [Equanimity] warded off the release of adrenaline as well as fear and panic. He believed psychopaths still experienced adrenaline before life-threatening situations. It was inherent to be on edge in absolute sensory deprivation. Even a psychopath would succumb to their base instincts and thrash like a caged animal within Dark Domain.

What a nasty spell. He needed to add it to his arsenal someday.

The first thing Sorrinn did was ignite his Origin Flame full-throttle. An outline of aqueous, shifting blue-green energy enveloped him and illuminated his irises. It perfused into his mystic wealth, rousing it from its forced slumber. He conjured his wand from his inventory and cast a Lux Lantern. He was curious if The Mystic Force would be able to penetrate into The Void’s turf, but not even true absence could dispel Its descension and unification with his wealth when beckoned. The lantern was born from coalescing, Origin-empowered light particles. The Origin light almost seemed to physically push the absence away, making a barrier of itself. One moment, it felt like he was being smothered by a pillow. The next, he could see his lantern and himself and hear his body’s inner workings and The Illumination’s alien whispers interwoven in The Mystic Force amidst the silence.

He hopped straight to casting the other new light spell Izebeus had procured for him. Highbeam, his disembodied wisdom told him it was dubbed. While Lux Lantern was a second-tier Creation spell like Comet Cerise—the spell that put a hole through his house—Highbeam was a first-tier spell like Wind Burst. If he was training in conditions, he figured he’d train them with the spells most effective against his enemies.

He began with a raw cast of Highbeam just to learn what the spell’s function was. Origin light particles converged around the tip of his wand upon actualization and… a long cone of light emitted forward through the dark. One of his brows lifted in question. The spell was nothing more than a glorified flashlight. It was Origin-infused, so it sliced through the Absence well, but when he heard ‘beam,’ he imagined a laser. That was more headlights on a car than Death Star.

It was what it was. None of the first-tier spells besides Firebolt were useful in their raw forms. Its true worth would be revealed when he evolved it with amplifications.

He cast the spell again, that time pumping a generous amount of wealth into its energy factor. Expectedly, it made the spell significantly brighter and hotter; however, the energy was still being dispersed across a broad cone. The following cast, he experimented with amping both its energy and density factors while lessening its width to restrict its scope. Things became interesting as a narrow streak of light so dense, it appeared to be solid matter stretched out before him. It was solid matter—sort of. For the sake of comprehension, he poked his finger into the beam. It was so hot, he had to yank his finger right out, but there was tangible force acting against his own—something kindred to a flowing water current.

Upon further inspection, the more wealth he dumped into the density factor, the more the individual photons seemed to crystallize as they compacted and morphed into a semi-solid state of matter—soft light. It functioned the same even when he amped the spell’s energy factor in the opposite direction as a counterbalance to make it not as hot despite its density, and the crystallized photons dispersed against his palm like a swarm of nanobots when he dipped it into the path of the light waves. The caveat was: the denser he made the light, the more it teetered toward becoming hard light, the slower it traveled through space. He ended up increasing the density so much that the light wave behaved more akin to weightless molasses slowly creeping forward through the air.

He had two primary forms of the spell in mind: One, amping up the energy factor immensely while restricting width but toning up length to create an effective light laser. The second, amping the density factor until the beam was semi-solid soft light while restricting width but increasing length to fashion a sort of light whip. Better yet, he could experiment with adding a condition that would make the spell’s density briefly increase before striking an object to gain the impact of hard light while retaining the speed of soft light. That one sounded costly though. In a drawn out encounter, it’d drain his wealth dry quickly and leave him helpless, so it was hardly worth the effort of figuring out the specifics.

He didn’t think Highbeam had as much potential with conditions as the other first-tier spells. Maybe working out the specifics on some acceleration conditions at best to make it even less avoidable against the rare mortal capable of evading lightspeed. Casting it with amps was enough for it to feel impactful. Lux Lantern, however, he had some interesting ideas for applicable conditions. Having the furthest photon wave increase in density and become a hard light shield whenever a threat or physical force neared, for one. It’d allow it to scale into a neat defensive spell when it would have otherwise been too niche to be generally useful. But since it was a second-tier spell, he didn’t think the payoff of focusing on mastering it would be worth the effort—yet.

For an hour or two, he focused on continually casting Lux Lantern and Highbeam as fast as he could to further optimize their spell routes. The closer to a second under cast time they were, the better. For the rest of day, he returned to where he left off with weaving conditions into his four rudimentary spells. He took breaks when he absolutely needed them, choosing to err toward pushing his endurance due to the urgent circumstances.

The Silhouette could strike again in a minute or a month. All he could do was be ready whenever it did rear its head. He didn’t have to win; survival was enough. Taking the Silhouette’s head could be a feat for a future, more capable version of himself. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t already fantasizing about being the first Luminary to press a Silhouette’s neck to the block and make their head roll. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, though.

Lua dispelled the Dark Domain come the evening. With a snap, all of it crawled back into the spatial tear as it sealed behind itself. Her mystic wealth must’ve not been shabby either for her to maintain the spell a full day. Sorrinn was drained but bouncing on his toes with energy and vigor. He’d forgotten how great it felt to exert himself to the point of peak exhaustion in pursuit of mystic mastery—that tingly sense of giddiness fluttering in his belly he adored so. A night’s sky worth of stars glimmered in the ghost blue of his eyes. It was like no time had passed at all. His focus and resolve were still razor-sharp. The added hurdle of doing all of it in a Dark Domain only enlivened him further.

Mother and son bid Lua thanks and farewell, then began on the walk home beneath a darkening sky.

Maeve discerned Sorrinn’s ecstatic arm-flapping and finger-writhing in the corner of her eye, directing him a loving smile where he bounced along beside her. He was a happy kid in general, but she never saw him smile so beautifully and grandly unless he was perched over a book or doing something magic-related. He really was Orrillimmirr’s child. The apple hadn’t fallen far at all with him. Then there was Asammirr, so busy making friends out in the village, he was rarely home. She shared a faint laugh with herself and shrugged. The obsessive and hyper-focused gene must’ve skipped a son. She was always happy to have a more mild-mannered one in the house with her, anyway. Regardless of the path she’d walked or the life she’d lived, she existed then to protect her kids. She would protect them, even if it was the last thing she did. It just so happened one of them was vastly more difficult to protect than the other.

She sighed. All in a day’s work.

It was getting dark. Sorrinn created an Origin-infused Lux Lantern to light their path the way home—just in case.

***

It was sometime after midnight. The village had fallen to silence beneath the illuminating, pale glow of the moon. A lone shadow—tall and slender figure veiled behind its undulating shroud—stood beneath The Giving Tree’s canopy. The breeze meandered through and the falling curtains of pale, feathery leaves hissed as they danced. The deep purple slit that was the entity’s eye shifted to its corner, toward something approaching from behind.

“You’re wasting your time, Pawn of Absence. The Corruption you ferry has no stake to claim in these consecrated lands.” A woman veiled in flowing robes a white-yellow ombre, emanating an ethereal spectral glow, ever-tearing eyes sealed behind a strip of cloth, walked into the shadow’s view. She possessed three sets of arms protruding from her robes, one pair of which had a hand holding a golden fruit while the other perfectly balanced a bowl of water upon the tips of her fingers. The hands of the second set were unified before her chest in perpetual prayer. The hands of the third held an ornate bell and a lit incense lantern. The breeze blew, casting the knee-length strands of her wheat golden hair into motion. “Heed my warning: this does not end well for you. Begone while your existence still holds, for I will not show mercy to any who threaten this sanctuary.”

The shadow simply smirked, then walked away into the night. “We shall see, spirit…” its whispery voice echoed from all directions.

The woman’s head angled upward toward the tree’s radiant canopy. She rang her bell thrice and swept the lantern around her to disperse its sweet, flowery fragrance into the wind. “Come to me,” she whispered. “Come to me… Maeve.”