Ch. 9.1 — Northlands. Expanse. Zwischenland_The Glass Wizard - The tale of a somewhat depressed wizard

----------------------------------------

image [https://glasswizardchronicles.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/009.1_The-Glass-Wizard_FantasyMagic-Webnovel-by-The-Duckman_Depressed-Wizard_Psychological_Northlands_Landscape_Plateau_Desert_Flatland-7.1.1.png]

Yves forged through the desolation of the Northlands, on the cusp of the Zwischenland. The weather this far east was a disaster, a battleground where the ceaseless tempests from the northern shores fought the searing desert sun of the east. Today, he had weathered relentless shifts from scorching heat to torrents of poisonous rain that obliterated any semblance of larger plant life with ruthless efficiency. Although the sky remained a perpetual maelstrom, this day marked the first time in months he experienced a few fleeting moments of respite from the rain. If it was not rain, it was shitloads of sand blowing in his face.

image [https://glasswizardchronicles.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/009.1_The-Glass-Wizard_Fantasy-Adventure-Magic-Webnovel-by-The-Duckman_Psychological-Webnovel_Northlands_Landscape_Plateau_Desert_Flatland-5.5.png]

The landscape, perennially ravaged by the winds, bore the scars of eons, with jagged rock structures thrusting from the ground like sentinels petrified in eternal agony. Life dared not linger. Sensibility withered. Bizarre phenomena littered the terrain — root patterns stretching like desiccated veins for kilometres, alien mushroom-structures defying the hostile environment, and rock formations disrupted with holes and patterns that you would not believe were natural. You should not. If anything, what you saw were the territorial markings of beasts or perhaps the concealed mouths of their hidden lairs.

For the past two hours, the rain fell heavy, dissolving the boundaries between earth and sky into oppressive grey. The ground beneath the sled had turned into a quagmire of northern rocks and eastern desert sands. Yves was desperate to escape the rain for good, yet he also hated the extensive heat, which made all weather shifts equally horrible. It would take Yves another week to get through and out of the Zwischenland, to where the arid eastern dunes stretched all the way to the Barnstream settlements.

The rain was a barrage of needles in his face, but Yves rode without magical protection. He needed all his reserves to sustain his body and keep the sled moving. He had long stopped adjusting his coat or scarf to shield his face, or stretching his legs, or shifting his position at all. He was so far taken by the weary traveller’s trance that he could not be bothered to do anything, really. He sat hunched forward, supported by the staff, staring ahead. Aware that his greatest peril lay in his injuries and that every day, every hour until he reached a healer counted towards survival, Yves had pressed on without rest for the last twenty days.

During these days, Yves had done this thing where he told himself, “I will take a break when I see some suitable ruins.” Yet, with every approaching set of ruins, he had found reasons to dismiss them. It was self-deception disguised as determination. The first he deemed unsafe for rest, confident to find more secure shelter with the next. Bearable weather deferred respite at the subsequent ruins. He had thought something like, “It would be a waste to stop now. I should press on and rest when conditions worsen.” This pattern persisted. After two more days, when he yet again discovered discernible stone structures, he convinced himself, “I feel halfway allright. I should continue until I feel really sick again,” only to acknowledge, upon reaching the next ruins, that he was in so much pain that he believed moving his body, let alone getting up and stepping down from the sled, was an insurmountable task. As much as Yves struggled with the pain on some days, there were equally as many when he did not consciously register anything, neither within himself nor any changes in his surroundings.

By the end of his twentieth day, he reached both his breaking and braking point. At the brink of physical and mental exhaustion, losing control of the Levitation Staff and sled, Yves reached a moment of reckoning. He could not sit any longer. He could not stay awake. Yves understood he should not stop. Rest could mean surrender. He might never rise again. However, as he now came across another scattering of ruins, he knew they marked the end of the line.

Stone remnants of ancient Tairan settlements, overtaken first by humans and now by time, stood as simplistic caves. They whispered of respite. Passing these rocky echoes of a bygone era just past midnight, Yves brought the sled to a halt. He resolved to rest through the witching hour and resume the journey the moment the veil of Teharun would lift, no later.

As he halted, Yves gave but a fraction of energy to the Ardimian chain on his neck. The pendant pulsated fiercely, signalling the presence of three nearby beings. Numb and cold, he barely felt the signal, even though the chain rested directly on his skin. The Vicha’s influence distorted the artifact significantly, but Yves had still used it whenever he felt particularly unsafe. In these desolate lands, he preferred to err on the side of excessive caution.

Straining his second sight, Yves discerned the lurking threats. Two paigen skulked around the rock walls to his left, while another lay hidden within hardly discernible remnants of what had once been grand stone structures. The first two remained frozen, exhibiting a stillness that betrayed predatory intent, while the latter had already inflated and coiled into a defensive posture that was all spikes and no mercy.

These grotesque desert-dwellers were twisted manifestations of the land's malevolence. Their elongated, sinuous bodies were held upright by over a thousand needle-thin appendages. Reaching heights of up to three meters, these aberrations were covered in a chaotic array of spikes, indistinguishable from their limbs, all writhing in unsettling disarray.

Yves needed them gone. Until now, all land creatures had avoided the Vicha’s presence. In the initial days after leaving the crater, Yves had feared potential attacks, but even the grand biscaan had maintained their distance. Some observed from afar, barely lingering beyond the Vicha's radius, as Yves had discerned during the first rainless periods of today. Some briefly trailed him, though always out of the Vicha’s reach. Yet, none dared attack him or the persistent barthar and marrels.

Underground dwellers had remained equally cautious. At times, disturbances rippled beneath the floating sled. Yves had felt tremors and heard distant rumblings. He had envisioned serpent-like creatures, burrowing arachnids and grand insectoids lurking just beyond the range of his second sight, hidden within sand-filled crevasses that moulded the mud-laden terrain. None had breached the surface.

Yves understood that the three paigen had sought to stay unnoticed within the ruins, likely anticipating the passage of the Vicha.

He descended from his sled and took slow, deliberate steps towards the foremost cave, revealing his intent. The first paigan emerged from behind the wall ruins, the second from within the dwelling. Yves relied on his second sight to perceive their movements, since the downpour obscured his first sight, even with just a few meters between him and the beasts.

The creatures found themselves torn between brutal aggression towards his injured, suffering form, and fear of the overwhelming Vicha presence. Conflicted and struggling to reconcile these unnatural, contradictory impressions, they engaged in an intense staredown.

Yves struggled----- also,

----------------------------controlling

---------------------the precarious ---------balance

--------------------------------------between

-------asserting dominance -------------and ---------------------------avoiding

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------provocation.

His m i ᑎ Ｄ

----------------------Ｓ ⎳ -Ｉ- ᑭ Ｐ- ᗴ ------Ｄ

------------ＥᐯＥᖇ Ｙ丅Ｈ Ꮖ --Ｎ--Ǥ --hurt

-------------------------------------------------------------------------He was about

---------------------------------------------------------------------to pass out

Stay awake. ----------Center yourself.

-------Please,

---------not now

One, center yourself.

What do you see?--------------------

Nothing--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

------------------What do you see?

------------------------------Paigen

What do you feel?

---I can’t –

What do you feel?

.------

.--------------------------------------

--------------------------------.

Paigen.

Two, secure yourself.

---

Paigen.

Focus. Secure yourself.

--------------------This is

-----------------------------------as good

---

as it gets.-----------------------

Three, assess your resources.

What?------------------------------------

Three, assess your resources.

I am--------------------------

---------so

--tired--------------

Four, assess your knowledge on your enemy.

Paigen.

Four, assess your knowledge on your enemy in detail.

----------------.

-------.

Five, stay awake.

---------------------------------Yves

-------------lifted

------------------------------------------------------------------his hands

-----------------------------to his

---------------upper

---------------------body.

------------------------------Forming a fist

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------with one

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------and supporting

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------it

-------------------------------------------------------------------with the other

------------------------------------------------------hand,

----------------------------------------------------------he --PresseD

------------------------------------------------------------------------his hands

-------------------------------------------------------------------into

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------his

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->->stom.ach<

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

-----------------------------------------------------------He had done so

------------------------------------------------------------repeatedly

----------------------------------------throughout the journey,

-----------------------------------using

-------

----------------------------------the

image [https://glasswizardchronicles.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/009.1_Writing_Surges.png]--of---⦏𝚙⦎⦍𝚊⦐⦏𝚒⦎⦍𝚗⦐

to combat-----------------------------

----------image [https://glasswizardchronicles.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/009.1_Writing_fatigue.png]

------------------------------------------------It ----------was

------------------------------------------------------------------a - dumb thing

------------------------------to do.

------------------------------------By now,

--------------------------------it barely

----------------------------worked

--------------------------------------------------anymore.

He had------------------------------------

𝑒, 𝑥, . ℎ,𝑎,𝑢, -𝑠,-- 𝑡, --𝑒,---- 𝑑,

----the effect, ----------------------------------------and also,

--------------------------------------------pain was

-------------------------------------------------------------by now

-----------------------------------------------------------------his general state of existence.

It did---------------------------------------------

not----------------------------------------------------

work.----------------------------------------------------------

He drew in------------------------

------------a

--------

delib..erat..ely..swal..low..ing

some------------------

of the---------

//////////////// >T Ø 𝝌 IC< //r/a/i//n/---------------------

image [https://glasswizardchronicles.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/009.1_Writing_shock-and-sick.png]---

--------------

brought him ----back.

Yves grasped at the first discernible thought that came to mind------------------------

— Paigen —

---------------------------and focused on that to maintain his consciousness.-------

Their harsh and twisted nature reflected the barren landscape they traversed. Unlike other Northlands creatures, paigen neither burrow nor hide in rock crevasses; they freely roam the desolate expanse. When confronted by larger predators, they coil into an impenetrable ball of spikes. For protection and hunting, they manipulate their spikes, moving them flexibly or hardening individual spikes at will. Prey smaller than them is ensnared and pierced to death.

Instead of consuming their prey directly, paigen impale and then carry it on their spikes. Through corrosive secretions, the prey dissolves, and both the acidic discharges and the liquefied prey are consumed by cannamophs, a type of anthropod living symbiotically with paigen. These cannamophs reside on the paigen's bodies, nestled between spikes and legs like ever-hungry pearls. They consum the decomposed prey and then secret nutrients directly into the host paigan’s body.

Paigan spikes, acid, and cannamophs find versatile uses in potion-making and crafting high-quality jewellery. The spikes, when processed with expertise, can create exceptionally flexible yet robust armour. Properly melded and merged, this armour flexes but autonomously hardens under pressure, offering protection against strong impacts. Respectively, these components are highly valuable. Numerous north-eastern settlements have met their demise attempting to breed paigen for economic gain.

Seven years ago, when he had first sought out The Wizard With Six Arms in the Barnstream Mausoleum, Yves himself had hunted paigen. By mastering the intricacies of how these bizarre creatures had adapted for survival in the unforgiving Northlands, he had earned both coin and the basic respect a foreigner amongst ker and bormen may hope to gain.

In his current condition, Yves was in no position to fight. He did not even have the energy to conjure a few shards. His focus waned. He could not recall any more paigen facts. As the beasts stared at him, buffing up their bodies, rattling their thousands of legs, and tensing up their spikes, his consciousness slipped back into the void, and no amount of toxic rain would bring it back again. If Yves was ever going to do anything, it had to be now.

“Fuck off,” he said, moving right towards the foremost paigan, closing the distance, deliberately getting within reach. Because sometimes, all you could do is bluff. With his injuries, the words did not come out properly. His hoarse voice did not travel through the rain.

Spikes tensing, legs rattling, the beast recognised that Yves was now within immediate reach —

Giant claws shot out of the storm above, spear-like appendages that slashed through the air, tearing just above the ruins, accompanied by a high, bestial screeching — the norlak, an avian beast, the natural predator of paigen. It killed paigen with brutal efficiency, slashing them dead mid-flight or thrashing them against rock formations. Its long claws provided formidable defence against the paigen's spikes. The norlak shot out and vanished into the storm within the same heartbeat, narrowly missing the foremost paigan. Its deafening screeches hinted at an impending descent for another strike.

With that, the dynamics between Yves and the paigen abruptly shifted. One of the creatures behind the walls leaped up, whirled around, and bolted. In that same moment, the paigan closest to Yves, in front of the dwelling, also turned and fled. The third followed right after. They were incredibly fast, gone in a blink.

It had been a poor visual and auditory illusion. It had been all Yves could muster. He had scraped together some last reserves of energy; he really did not know where they came from, probably from the Jabarrah. At this point, Yves was too exhausted to discern the differences. Well, it had been enough. Yves had enough experience with paigen to know how to manipulate and intimidate them. No wizard would have recognised this norlak, but then, the illusion had not been crafted for wizard eyes. During his attempts as a paigan hunter, Yves had figured out how to create deceptions that appeared realistic through a paigan’s visual and auditory senses. It was a Fuck off they understood.

The Jabarrah supported Yves’ faltering steps as his body, stiff and weary, hobbled towards the dwelling for refuge. The broken stone structure resembled something of a cellar, barely wide enough to accommodate one tightly curled up paigan, or four un-curled wizards, respectively. The ceiling hung so low that Yves needed to bow his head to enter. It did not matter. He could not stand straight, anyway. He struggled to walk, to remain on his feet, propped up by the Jabarrah and the Levitation Staff. A stony layer on the ground formed a slightly elevated floor. Everything was wet, water and wind penetrating through the open entrance. Still, the stone dome above shielded Yves from immediate rain and wind. Using the staff, Yves maneuvered the sled directly in front of the entrance, within reach and serving as an additional barrier against the weather.

With no strength or thought left to prepare for comfort, Yves could not even manage to pull a piece of fur from one of the chests. Instead, he sank down to his knees right where he stood, hands on the staff for support. Collapsing onto his side, he somehow arranged himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall to the right of the entrance. Stretching out, un-bending his stiff legs centimetre by centimetre, he observed as the heels of his boots scraped over the stone and mud. Mud and freezing rain filled his boots and socks and every crevice of his trousers. Everything was wet and dirty, his clothes stained with the smell of rain-soaked dirt. Well, at least all the blood had washed out by now.

For one last time, Yves shifted to second sight. By then, he could not sense the paigen anymore. Beyond 100 to 200 meters, the storm distorted all energies of the plateau so much that any lesser presences were concealed from his fading sight and dulled senses.

Yves leaned his head against the wall, activated his Timegiver, and closed his eyes. His body was too exhausted to shiver. It took a few deep breaths, then he completely slumped into himself. He listened to the rain.

Amidst the relentless downpour, he could not distinguish anything else. It was not just because of his exhaustion, the storm, or the looming Vicha presence; it was the stark absence of Midnight. Yves and Midnight were rarely apart, inseparable since his birth. Her absence left a void deeper than what the Vicha had consumed.

Midnight’s senses were more refined than his, and Yves had grown accustomed to perceiving the world through her. She possessed instincts and intuition that allowed her to recognise hazards in a way Yves could not, detecting disturbances and concealed presences in their surroundings faster and better than him. Through her, he understood danger with a precision unmatched by his second sight. Feeling her instincts was more than simply hearing, seeing, tasting, and smelling more; it was a complex fusion of all senses, creating the automatic understanding that was primal intuition.

Yves had intuition, too, marked by the ominous good feeling or a bad feeling, unexplained yet distinct sensations that something was either just right or very, very wrong. He knew that his body had somehow refined these feelings through Midnight, ever learning from the impressions she conveyed to him. However, Yves often reasoned these feelings into existence. He analysed what he perceived from his present surroundings by adding his knowledge of the world, his understanding of his circumstances, and his expectations from past experiences. He thought about how these present impressions and his reason fitted together, and from that, he concluded the most likely explanation.

Midnight's intuition operated more naturally and swiftly, beyond Yves’ conscious reasoning. When she shared her intuition, he felt the results of her instincts without receiving an explanation. He had learned to trust this intuition instead of demanding or trying to dissect individual sensations. For Yves, sensing what Midnight felt had become an additional sense, as natural and prominent as any of his own. Respectively, with Midnight now gone and the overwhelming Vicha presence obliterating all other energies, Yves’ perception of his surroundings had greatly diminished, which he felt intensely, along with his deteriorating sight.

The dark veil of Teharun enveloped the world. Everything around Yves plunged into suffocating darkness more potent than the night herself. He kept his eyes barely open, mere slits, wary. He could not completely dismiss the notion that the barthar might seek vengeance, waiting to strike in a moment of vulnerability. Yves had observed with his second sight that the beast and the marrels had huddled up in another dilapidated shelter.

Yves had no feeling for how much time passed. He could never tell during witching hour. Teharun would tell. And so, he rested. Sometimes, he closed one eye or the other, to give them a moment’s reprieve. Perhaps, at times, he closed both, but he remained awake throughout — at least, so he thought. Yet, within a blink, the storm vanished. Yves straightened up, alerted by the sudden stillness. The clouds had shifted. The thrashing rain around his shelter had ceased, though its distant echoes lingered in the damp air. Through second sight, Yves recognised the distorted storm energies in the far reaches of the plateau.

What was happening? Had he slept? Immediately, Yves honed his senses on his surroundings. His sled appeared undisturbed. Aside from the barthar and the marrels, he sensed no other presences in the aftermath of the storm.

The darkness lingered. How could he have slept during the witching hour? His stiff fingers retrieved the Timegiver, an ornate artefact bearing two strand of Yves’ own heartstrings, one from each heart.

When activated through raw energy and triggered by the veil of Teharun, the Timegiver created a resonating pulse exclusive to the perception of the bearer; a phantom heartbeat that safeguarded against the dangers of unintentional sleep during the witching hour, be it from fatigue, injury, or any other cause. The sensation was subtle yet powerful, a rhythmic reminder that cut through a wizard's dreams and anchored his mind back to wakefulness. Yet, it had not stirred Yves. On this disquieting occasion, the pulsations remained silent. Yves examined the crystal-encased heartstrings, finding them intact but devoid of their rhythmic vitality, signifying that the witching hour had already passed. What time was it? Had he fallen asleep after the witching hour? If so, why persisted the profound darkness that so much resembled the veil of Teharun?

Yves deactivated the Timegiver and struggled to his feet. With two odd steps, he reached the entrance. He stared over the sled and surveyed the desert and debris landscape. No rain, no storm, no clouds. First sight offered no sign of Teharun, and second sight failed to unveil any traces of his veil. The witching hour had ended, yet an impenetrable blackness enveloped the sky. Inexplicable. No storm loomed overhead, no distorted energies writhed through second sight, not even a hint of mist lingered in the air. This marked the first instance in almost three months when the sky remained entirely clear. However, this newfound clarity offered no revelation. Sey and Burs, the moon and her child, along with all celestial bodies, were conspicuously absent.

Dread seized Yves as he entertained the specter of illusions or a potential intrusion, a malevolent manipulation of his mind or senses by an unseen adversary. Yet, he sensed nothing, and his Ardimian chain remained silent. Then again, if he was already under the influence of a Transcender or witch or specter —

No. The truth was much simpler and much more terrifying.

The sky was lost to Yves. The sky was dark because his first sight could no longer grasp the moons and the stars.

It was a harrowing realisation.

For a very long time, Yves just stood and stared.

Ever since Yves commenced his education at Emery Thurm Academy, the world had dimmed around him, casting an ever-growing shadow over his once-potent second sight. The deterioration progressed gradually. Over the months and years, it had unfolded as a slow and measurable process.

He had first lost the ability to see true light fragments — the radiant structures visible to Lightshifters in the dark, which is, not in the Material Dimension but in the Alladharian dimension. In other words, he had lost the ability to discern light fragments through second sight.

Among Lightshifters, this impairment was crippling.

A wizard’s second sight is paramount for all forms of lightshifting. Mind you, not all Lightshifters have the innate disposition for all Lightshifter magic. Even if they do, they generally possess strong potential for one particular disposition, with varying potential for all other abilities on the Lightshifter spectrum. It is rare to find a wizard with two equally potent core dispositions. You generally have one core and then lesser or no potential for the other abilities on your spectrum. With that, it is absolutely acceptable for a master light wizard to lack seer abilities, or for a glass wizard to conjure advanced visual illusions without the ability to materialise them. Yet, despite their predispositions for specific magical domains, every Lightshifter can see light fragments. This ability comprises the essence of their spectrum.

To this day, a small part of Yves hesitated to fully embrace glass magic as his core disposition. What if this classification arose from a simplicity inherent in glass magic, requiring less reliance on light than other Lightshifter abilities? After all, the most rudimentary shards originated from raw Adhar alone, which Yves could still perceive.

Yves had demonstrated proficiency in producing such shards since his early days at the academy, while he had struggled with other facets of lightshifting. Falling increasingly behind, he had pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion to learn basic light and illusion magic, to tap blindly into abilities that eluded him, while his commilita advanced effortlessly on well-lit paths. By the end of his first year, the gap between them had grown into an insurmountable chasm. While others mastered the foundations and finesse of harnessing and wielding light, Yves had struggled with the void, a haunting echo of a world that had once radiated unparalleled geometrical beauty, as it could only be bestowed by true light fragments.

During his initial two years at Emery Thurm, Yves found himself among the academy’s least accomplished students. And oh, his commilita had made sure he knew. Ever keen and conditioned on reinforcing hierarchies, these arseholes had made certain that those who falter and fall behind were well beaten to stay down.

To rise above the torment and overcome his own weakness, Yves was forced to expand his abilities beyond the confines of glass magic. He had clung to the vestiges of light. Turning night into day with countless sleepless nights, he had delved into the exploration of phantom presences. Phantom presences represented the light perceivable through first sight.

Through artefacts similar to the Lightgiver Wand and by tapping into natural light sources such as fire, he had learned to access light even after losing the ability to conjure it independently. Two mentors, unconventional in their methods yet champions of his progress, played pivotal roles in expanding such unconventional attempts at light magic.

Once he had gained knowledge on the duality of reality, Yves had understood that a Lightshifter conjures light that was visible in the Material Dimension by rearranging and compiling light fragments in the Alladharian Dimension. Conversely, powerful phantom presences like fire or lightning in the Material Dimension correspond to densely compressed light fragments in the Alladharian Dimension. Each individual phantom presence comprises distinct shards arranged in an equally unique structure.

Yves could no longer perceive or sense these clusters of light fragments. To access them, he needed to discern their structure from their phantom presence alone. Reaching blindly, Yves had to rely on guesswork and accumulated experience to harness light fragments from the Alladharian Dimension.

It is demandingly delicate work. Picture it not as the Alladharian equivalent of thrusting your hand into the open flame of a torch, proudly exclaiming, “There it is, I got the light!”

Oh please, there is really no need to subject your metaphorical self to harm for such a preposterous comparison.

For each phantom presence, for each source of light such as your torch, there exist thousands of light fragments. Envision a thousand microscopic, uniquely misshapen beads scattered at your feet in all possible angles. Then, imagine being able to pick them up only by inserting a needle through the hole that ran through each individual bead. Mind you, you have one solitary attempt for each bead, as the slightest touch of your needlepoint would break it.

As a novice Lightshifter, you start with one metaphorical needle, scrambling for beads with openings large enough to fit, desperately searching for those positioned just right, at angles your trembling fingers can handle. As a skilled academy graduate, you wield a thousand needles in one hand with ease. You make these needles of energy extend and bend to your will, effortlessly picking up thousands of beads without a single glance.

Now, if you lack second sight or the superior visual perception of certain peoples and most winged beasts, you might find yourself frustrated with the seeming physical impossibility of filling the small space of your torch's fickle flame with such a large number of beads. Again, please do not strain yourself, and no, this example is not an exaggeration. Through second sight, a wizard's perception of space and the ability to adjust for depth, detail, and distance are far more advanced than what his first sight offers. The thousands of light fragments are there, and they fit well. They are, in simple terms, just very, very small.

Their minuscule size posed the exact problem Yves had faced when bound to the limitations of his first sight. If you broke it all down, he learned to guess the structures, sizes and shapes of light fragments from their phantom presences. He had started a blind boy stabbing his needle into the ground at random, breaking a thousand beads for every one that he pinned correctly. Handling the void itself would be no different. He handled something that, to him, was not there, something which was just not there anymore since his youth — which is why perceiving light fragments in the Mirror Dimension had been such an overwhelming experience. The nets of light had been so rich in numbers, so perfect in their structure, and so, so beautiful.

Well, with years of adapting to such an unconventional method, Yves’ break-to-pin ratio had shifted for the better. As he studied and trained fiercely to compensate for his affliction, he eventually caught up to his commilita. From there, he began to experiment. He invented creations that combined shards and light. Shards infused with light became his most versatile resources ever since. From them, he crafted potent weapons and vast constructions such as the Vicha dome.

His advancing blindness would eventually rob him of all of these abilities, his innovations and nuanced skills — anything that set him apart from the novice with the crippled eyes.

What had started with light fragments continued ever since. With the deterioration of his second sight, Yves was losing his grasp on the Alladharian dimension as a whole. His tether to world energies, to magic itself, frayed with each passing moment.

Yet, it was in the lighthouse, upon his return from the mirror plane, that he had faced an abrupt and drastic decline of his vision. Ever since, the process had accelerated significantly. Days later, with his return to the crater, his ability to recognise energies had again deteriorated with sudden ferocity. He was losing his eyesight much too fast. Just a month ago, he had anticipated at least five or six more years. Now, it felt compressed to mere months, perhaps just a few weeks.

Now, it was not just his second sight anymore.

As of today, the moons and stars were lost to him.

After the drastic dimming of his second sight, his first sight now faltered as well.

Without the phantom presences of light, all magic woven with light would slip through his grasp. Once his first sight failed him, any Lightshifter magic beyond the most rudimentary of shard formations would be lost to him.

And fail him it did. Now, as the tempestuous shroud lifted, unveiling the sky after months of obscurity, it revealed not the soothing silver glow of the moons and stars, but the horrendous void that had suffocated these celestial lights.

Yves had loved the stars. However harrowing his many journeys had been, he had always found solace in serene nights under the starry sky. During such nights, the heavens unfolded as a boundless canvas of transcendent beauty, a gift so generously bestowed upon the world by 𝞨𝟁𝞬 [Myr], the cosmic artisan. She was revered as the Goddess of Night and the mythological mother of all Lightshifters, though, amongst scholars, commonly diminished as a mere storybook deity. Yves had no proof or reason to argue otherwise. Like many wizards, he did not adhere to conventional beliefs in mythological Gods. He abstained from the prayers and rites exerted by some peoples. Still, sometimes, he liked to imagine the myths surrounding 𝞨𝟁𝞬. Her art resonated with his soul, and when he witnessed the emergence of night with all her mesmerising phantom presences of light that were the stars, he often imagined how 𝞨𝟁𝞬 painted them just there and then with her effulgent palette of starlight. Things did not have to be true to convey true beauty. For an illusionist, imagining and believing often intertwined quite seamlessly.

Midnight shared his affinity for the night, in particular for the moon. The fact that his familiar was a midnight stalker might even be the reason that Yves was especially captivated by celestial lights. Sey bestowed unique energies upon Midnight, and her feelings of deep contentment resonated with Yves. They had spent countless nights immersed in the silvery glow of the full moons. They had witnessed celestial nights where the firmament unfurled an infinite, incomparably beautiful tapestry of light. Yves felt these shared experiences intensely, especially when he and Midnight experienced the same emotions. Because both of them were so drawn and captivated by their night experiences, their feelings mutually intensified through their bond. In a profound way, Yves associated the mother moon and even light in general with Midnight.

But now, the celestial canvas of 𝞨𝟁𝞬 lay empty. Yves could not put his sorrow into words. Fuck this, and Curses on all elves was all he got. Three months ago, in a moment unmarked by significance, he had unknowingly beheld the last vestiges of her celestial creations — a fleeting beauty now etched hauntingly in his memories.

----------------------------------------

Ch. 9.1 — Northlands. Expanse. Zwischenland

目录