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“There is more,” said Yves.
“Do tell,” said Twig.
Upon returning from the Mirror World, Yves had once again experienced the unsettling split in consciousness, a phenomenon he had only heard about in the cryptic context of Transcender wandering. This prompted him to consider an unconventional third advisor, a Transcender 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢 known as Faroah.
“Faroah?” Twig echoed, disbelief colouring her tone. “That’s your idea?”
“He is so weird,” whispered Mushroombird, her voice hushed but equally tinged with disappointment.
“Allow me some time to think it through,” replied Yves.
Transcenders, comprising the 𝔐𝔲𝔫𝔞𝔦 [Munai] spectrum, are the only wizards who may develop the ability to shift their consciousness. Bordering the perceiving end of the Lightshifter spectrum, they are perceivers, soul-readers, spirit-readers, world-readers and time-readers.
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While Lightshifter seers relied on light to access their third sight, Transcender perceivers possess an innate sensitivity to energies and spirits, discerning them through senses beyond sight alone.
Soul-readers excel at distinguishing the energies within other wizards or creatures, making them adept judges of character and curse-spotters. Conversely, spirit-readers are especially attuned to non-physical existences, delving into the realms beyond the corporeal. For a master illusionist, crafting an illusion capable of deceiving a spirit-reader posed one of the most demanding challenges. Even after over a decade of training, Yves' creations were still easily exposed by the average nose-picking spirit-reader novice. It really put a perspective on your craft, if you thought about it. Yves generally tried not to think about it.
World-readers, engrossed in the connections between dimensions, and time-readers, delving into temporal planes, stand as the rarest facets of Transcender dispositions.
“You say that so easily”, interjected Mushroombird, “but what exactly are temporal planes?”
Temporal planes are considered —
“Yves, no,” Twig cut in. “Please stay with Faroah.”
In addition to their general array of stronger or lesser abilities, all Transcenders could become conscious wanderers, unconscious wanderers or 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰 [Oracles]. Wanderers possess the potential to expand and split their consciousness to the extent of entering the minds and influencing the actions of other beings from within. Some can maintain wakefulness in their own bodies simultaneously, while others cannot.
𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰 capture predestined futures. They are the conveyors of fate and prophecies. While Transcenders are notoriously secretive about their abilities, Yves knew that Oracles excelled in wandering in such a way that they could temporarily connect to multiple consciousnesses simultaneously. The depth of their mastery across the Transcender spectrum determines the accuracy and detail of their prophetic revelations. A Transcender proficient in soul-reading, spirit-reading, world-reading, and time-reading has the potential to become a 𝔗𝔯𝔲𝔢 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢 [True Oracle] — a wizard who does not only predict but foretells the future.
Faroah stands as a formidable Transcender who can see exceptionally far beyond his immediate surroundings — material, ethereal and temporal alike. He has earned official recognition as an 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢, as he apparently excels in both the world-reading and time-reading disposition. It is said that he had often foretold the future with uncanny precision.
However, he is notorious for his eccentricity and cryptic means of communication. Faroah's revelations manifest as perplexing riddles and disturbing utterances, leaving those who seek his counsel more bewildered than enlightened.
“You come for answers, but leave with more questions,” Mushroombird summarised.
“Yes,” said Yves.
He had once sought the guidance of Faroah. It had been years ago, during his travels across the continent to gather the necessary components for crafting his ethereal mirrors. The experience had been quite frustrating, as Faroah's cryptic revelation had proven impossible to decipher. To make matters worse, Faroah refused to converse in any known lingua magica, instead opting for a series of guttural noises that Yves could neither understand nor reproduce in writing or any other tangible form.
“So weird,” whispered Mushroombird.
During a consultation with Faroah, seeking guidance is a solitary affair; no familiar may participate, and no other wizard may serve as an intermediary or translator. An audience with Faroah has a peculiar effect on those seeking revelation. You would enter a sanctified space designated for his divinations, whether it be a temple, chamber, or tent. There, you would present your request and await his response. However, upon exiting the consecrated confines of this audience, a strange sensation would settle upon your mind — suddenly, the specifics of the encounter would slip away. You would be absolutely certain that you sought an audience, but find yourself with no recollection of the actual exchange that had transpired between you and Faroah. Departing, you would carry with you either an unconscious insight — a strong compulsion to do something or go somewhere specific — or a haunting awareness of having grasped nothing at all.
This phenomenon is not a scam, nor is it a manipulation of memory. Rather, the effect stems from the nature of 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢 prophecies themselves. 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢 prophecies are set in motion the very moment they are spoken. The act of foretelling simultaneously shapes the nature of the prediction and thus the future itself. As a witness to the prophecy, your presence becomes woven into the fabric of its unfolding. You as the seeker and observer play a role in what is spoken by the 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢. Your reactions and interpretations have an impact on the trajectory of events, influencing the course of the future in subtle yet profound ways. Because of that, a prophecy — regardless of the content — always also changes the recipient’s personal future. Such is the depth of this phenomenon that it defies the comprehension and alters the existence of the average wizard. The experience is so profound that you can neither grasp, nor mentally process it. While experienced Transcenders may consciously remember fragments of Faroah’s prophecy, the common Lightshifter or Worldbender may only hope to be subconsciously influenced in his actions for the better.
This rather enigmatic explanation is likely all you will ever get as a non-Transcender. Cryptic though it may be, this insight had armed Yves with the caution needed to approach his audience, ensuring he would neither miss nor misinterpret the revelations bestowed upon him. With this in mind, Yves had originally sought out the transcription quill that was now lain to rest in his Chest of Useless Artefacts.
Dictation quills were commonplace for students at Emery Thurm. However, their efficacy varied greatly depending on their makeup and the enchanter's skill. While many quills could transcribe one or two common languages of instruction, Yves doubted he would ever find another capable of transcribing all spoken words, regardless of language. It had taken him months, along with a substantial amount of resources, currency, and injuries to acquire what he had believed to be the perfect transcriber quill for Faroah’s gutteral utterances. Up until his encounter with the 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢, Yves had deemed it a worthwile investment. He had fancied himself the one wizard who would outsmart the process, the one to capture all of Faroah’s cryptic revelations by transcribing the future onto parchment.
Back then, it had indeed worked — the quill, that is. Yves had tested it with bormen, ker, dwarves and even witches, and it had never failed to perform flawlessly. However, something in the experience with Faroah had disrupted not only Yves' memory but also the quill itself. It had taken notes, yes, but ton o avail. Despite numerous attempts, Yves had not been able to decipher whatever gabble babble that piece of shit artefact had noted down while Faroah had gutted away, and it had never worked properly since. When provided with ink or an equivalent substitute, it still took notes, it still did something, but it was impossible to read anything into it. Amongst the illegible mess of dots and lines it delivered, Yves could not even distinguish individual letters.
Despite this first waste of time experience, Yves recognised the potential value of Faroah's prophecies in uncovering valuable information about his future — about the Dimensional Plane of Shards and the Stalker, the search for the legendary Crystalline Trench, the pact with the witch mother and, in general, about Yves’ attempt to restore his eyesight. Yet, Yves hesitated. Faroah was known to be elusive, his whereabouts rarely communicated outside Transcender circles. He sometimes resided in a remote location beyond the dense foliage of the Central Moorlands, but there was never any guarantee of being granted an audience, even if he were present.
There was no certainty of meeting Faroah. There was also no assurance of tracking down Vahl amidst his multitude of quests, and a reasonably high chance of being killed by any academy luminary he contacted. There were simply too many variables. Pursuing any of the three wizards would consume months that Yves did not have. Not even time was on his side.
Yves’ thoughts ground to a halt.
There was no one else he could reach out to.
No one else he trusted.
----He had no one.
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For a long time, Yves just sat and stared at the sands in front of him,
his eyes ever fixed on the point where the sand disappeared beneath the frame of the moving sled.
Twig's legs no longer dangled beside him.
She and Mushroombird were gone by now.
--Yves had no energy left to comfort himself.
He glanced down at his hands, gripping the Levitation Staff.
Then at his arms resting on his knees, not really thinking but still recognising
-----how much stronger the left silver arm appeared.
He hesitated, flooded with shame and exhaustion,
-------------but still so, so empty.
------------------------Then he felt for the small case in his coat pocket.
----------He had endured for over three weeks,
--------------but the constant pain had become unbearable.
---Yves had tried to suffer through it,
---------------to talk it out,
------------to distract himself,
--------------------to simply press forward regardless,
----------but the desert
----------------------------------stretched endlessly,
--------------mirroring
-------------------------the unyielding passage of time
-----------------------he spent
-----------------in
--------------this
--------------wretched
--------------------place.
------------His body was ravaged,
-----far beyond any prospect of self-healing.
------------The weather was brutal,
--punishing even for the non-injured traveller,
-------and the oppressive presence of the Vicha
weighted heavily on him.
----It felt horrible beyond words,
----------worsening with every day.
There had been a few fleeting moments
----when Yves found solace in talking to himself
----or engaging in imaginary conversations in his mind.
There had also been moments
----when nothing but rage surged within him,
------directed at everything and everyone responsible for his unbearable plight
------------– at elves and witches,
--------at the VICHA and himself,
----------------at the sun and the desert
----------and at all the fucking rock piles that were always, always, always in his way,
----------------------and very much at the whole world in general.
--------------------------But these moments were
----------------------------------mere ripples
----------------amidst endless hours,
---------------------------days
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------------------------------and weeks
------------------------------------------of AGONY.
--------Yves felt
--------the need to speak,
----to rationalise,
----to plead
--------for a momentary relief
-------from the ceaseless torment.
--------------------------------------------But there was no one here
--------------------------------------to listen.
------------------------------------------------There was no one
------------------------------------------------------to challenge his reasoning.
------------------------------------------------------------------And so,
----------------------------------------------------------------------he retrieved one of the three feathers
--------------------------------------------------------------------from their case.
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----Shortly thereafter, the most beautiful melodies emanated,
filling the vastness of the unforgiving north-eastern desert with serenity and solace.
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--As his vision blurred, dark thoughts took shape.
----------------If he lost his sight, ------would he still hold meaning to Midnight?
--------------------------Would their bond remain, --or would she leave him once his magic waned?
----------------Would he lose her, forever?
He would never ask her to tarnish her pride with pity.
Yves would not beg her to stay if he had nothing to offer her, yet he could not fathom how to live without her.
She had always been with him, their bond and her senses entwined with his existence for as long as he could remember.
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--------But all these thoughts faded into the comforting embrace of the melody.
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