“The name of your Codex is its heart.
It is engraved in pulsating glyphs of Starfire.
Within it lies your greatest strength;
And your greatest weakness”
- Unnamed Psalm accredited to Exalted Ryker, circa 1500 pre-MGE
Arguably one of the most debated psalms written by Exalted Ryker. Entire books have been written on this topic alone. Here, I will be focusing on its relevance regarding the phenomenon of vox potentia. The so-called ‘words of power’. This refers to the specific phenomenon observed by Ascendants whereby speaking the name of their Codex and the [Edict] they are establishing out loud augments its power. This phenomenon was first recorded as early as the 1st millennium MGE by Karnikov in The Practice of Ascension, though no doubt it had been practised as long as Ascendants had been around.
All Ascendants are capable of establishing [Edicts] with purely mental effort. However, the act of speaking it out loud enhances the potency and duration of the effect. This, interestingly, occurs no matter the language. Even species incapable of speech are capable of vox potentia if they communicate in their ‘natural way’. For example, a species that communicates in sign language would have hand signs as vox potentia, while the same hand signs would not work for any species that vocalises sound. Despite seeming oddly subjective, it is clear that rules do exist about what counts as vox potentia and what does not – although we are far from having elucidated even a fraction of them.
This brings us back to this particular Psalm written by Exalted Ryker. Here, Exalted Ryker associates with the Codex a heart, conferring to it an almost living status. To directly associate that with its name suggests that the life of the Codex is its name. This is reminiscent of recent advances in hypermathematics which describe the potential existence of higher dimensions where the lines between intent and reality are blurred. Of course, no solid evidence exists for the existence of these dimensions, but the theory of the Codex originating from another plane of existence is supported by a large amount of circumstantial evidence (see figure 3: Chart of Known Dimensions).
We will skip over the next line – an entire chapter at least would have to be dedicated to ‘starfire’ alone – to the third line and arguably the most important one regarding vox potentia.
Exalted Ryker states that the ‘greatest strength’ of the Codex lies in its name. This further supports the idea that the Codex is idea made form – its power comes from something metaphysical, beyond the realm of our limited comprehension.
Of course, the last line is just as important. Obtaining the key to a safe grants you power but also creates a vulnerability that can be exploited. Similarly, speaking the name of your Codex aloud may strengthen its effects but it also invites enemies to gain knowledge over it. Exalted Ryker suggests that this occurs because if the Codex is born from an idea, then the only thing preventing others from ‘possessing’ it is their lack of knowledge of that idea. If, however, an enemy hears its name, then they form an instinctive understanding of it. Normally this would be harmless, but Codices are known to interact with intent alone. Usually, this is the intent of the Ascendant himself, but if someone else were to gain access to that ephemeral link between Codex and Tripartite Self, the consequences would be catastrophic.
We all know the fable of the Crow. Just as it grew arrogant and conceited and was struck down by the power it wielded, we must take care and caution in our own practice of Ars Codicis, lest our enemies manifest our ideas in terrible form.
Most importantly, for a Codex to have a name suggests the presence of a ‘namer’. In this thesis, I will propose that the ‘namer’ of the Codex is the will of the universe itself, which bears witness when we establish our [Edicts] aloud. A metaphysical binding that aligns the Codex and strengthens its intent by drawing on the infinity of the universe itself.
* Phi, 7734 MGE, Vox Potentia: A Study on Causes and Effects, Chapter 1: What is a Name, graduation thesis for rank of Seeker, Grand Schema
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Chapter 4: Things that go bump in the night
The Stone Cathedral. A simple name for such an important structure. The realm was dark, yet the shadows cast by the sharp, angular constructs and arches seemed even darker. No, not darker. They seemed deeper. A feeling of being watched chilled any who approached to the bone, as though some primal part of their brain rejected that place.
It was cold too – the kind of piercing, biting cold that ignored whatever garments you wore and bit at your soul. Here, perhaps, that seemed more literal than metaphorical. In front of the stone steps leading up to the Cathedral entrance, a jagged tear opened in the fabric of space. Intelligible chattering noises burst through the silence of the courtyard as tendrils of foul energies attempted to escape from wherever it was they originated.
At this, the shadows deepened imperceptibly, and the tendrils recoiled, shrieking in phantom pain, as though afraid of whatever was hidden in the Cathedral’s wake.
A figure was left in the rift's wake. Garbed in a white cloak adorned with ceremonial inscriptions. In particular, the symbol of an kneeling, winged figure was embroidered on his right chest. It emanated a holy aura that seemed, paradoxically, perfectly aligned with the atmosphere of the Cathedral.
The figure approached the Cathedral and ascended the stone steps, the shadows retreating away from him as though out of respect.
“Praise the Unseen”, the figure murmured as he entered the Cathedral, the doors hastening to screech open before him.
He stepped through, entering what seemed like seemed like any cathedral, apart from the notable absence of windows. A central alley flanked by pews led towards a raised platform with an altar on it. Mounted on the wall overlooking the altar was a statue. Half of its body was perfection, carved from the darkest obsidian that demanded awe and subservience from all who beheld it. The other half was grotesque and deformed, a horrid imitation of life. Both hands were outstretched as though in supplication to a higher power and an expression of intense, almost palpable grief was on its raised face.
The tall ceiling was unadorned with murals or paintings. No carvings lined the arches or columns. The hall was seemingly empty, with no company for the figure in white apart from flickering shadows cast by candles burning along the sides of the hall that moved with ominous intent.
The figure walked down the alleyway, his footsteps echoing softly. He stepped onto the raised platform and kneeled before the altar. He raised his right hand and a pale-scar on its palm split open to reveal a pupil-less eye.
“Halfling child of Chaos and Order, bear witness”, he rasped as though the words took more than mere physical effort to utter.
“I, Pope Alkanarath II who serves the Pure Ones, petition the Unseen for their guidance”.
At these words, the shadows around entered a frenzy as the candles flared. The pupil-less eye on his palm darted around as though locking onto countless figures beyond the veil of mortal vision.
The candles began to die down, returning the hall to its previous tranquillity. The figure in white, the self-proclaimed Pope, remained silent among all this commotion. His closed his eyes, an impenetrable mask of serenity on his face.
He then turned around, as though having achieved what he wanted, and stepped down from the raised platform. He spoke into the darkness, shadows eagerly nipping at his feet.
“Bring me Oracle Hathor.”
The shadows swirled and deepened in an affirmative response. The Pope made no visible acknowledgement and the Cathedral returned to silence.
After some time had passed – there were no celestial objects to mark the passage of time in this dark realm – the doors to the Cathedral screeched open once more. A diminutive red robed figure shuffled across the threshold.
As he walked down the aisle, his true appearance was revealed. What appeared to be diminution was in fact a severe hunch. He walked laboriously, each step seeming almost painful to take. The taps of his glossy wooden cane on the stone floor pierced the silence.
As he approached the first row of pews, he stopped, raising his head to look up at the Pope from under his crimson hood. Where the Pope had the symbol of a winged figure on his chest, this figure had one of a 16-spoked wheel.
The figure spoke in a grating voice, as though a thousand voices echoed his words.
“For what reason have you summoned me here? You know my portents are increasingly inaccurate. And you know why.”
The Pope replied without opening his eyes, “I have heard good news. Archbishop Syn has been imprisoned by the Alliance on Exo Prime. We can begin the next stage of the plan.”
There was silence, before Hathor spoke in a biting tone.
“Enough with the nonsense. I don’t have to be an Oracle to know you didn’t call me all the way out here for a message you could have easily sent a deacon with.”
The Pope finally opened his eyes and looked down upon Hathor. Hathor stared back defiantly, and the Pope's lips twitched.
“You know you are the only one who gets away with speaking like that to me”.
“Hah”, Hathor scoffed and spoke in a jesting tone, “You know as well as I do Oracles are hard to come by these days. You can't fire me”.
“True enough”, the Pope acknowledged. “And I have no doubt of your faith in the Unseen and the Traveler whom you serve.”
“You got that part right, at least”, Hathor grumbled. “So? What’s the problem? I’ve had no prophecies of any Sons of Fortune appearing recently. Not since the last one in New Republic territory.”
“It’s not that. I received a portent directly from the Unseen”
The first sign of emotion other than vague annoyance appeared on Hathor’s face. Alarm flashed across his eyes as he spoke urgently.
“The Unseen contacted you directly? Are you absolutely sure?”.
“Positive”, the Pope replied grimly. “All the rituals were correct. The arrays were intact. There is no possibility of an outside existence tampering”.
Hathor bit his nails nervously and muttered under his breath.
“For the Unseen to interfere directly is unheard of! Could it be extraplanar interference? The Vanagandr perhaps? Or the Faekin?"
He paused before shaking his head, "No, the chances are low. Too low to be a real possibility.”
He tapped his cane on the floor several times before exclaiming out.
“Dammit. An event like this is inconceivable! Our records do not even go back far enough to a point where such a thing could have happened. It would have to be – ”
Understanding dawned on his face. Followed closely by fear. His eyes darted around nervously as he whispered.
“The last time would have to be before the Treaty of Calan. In the prehistoric galaxy.”
The Pope nodded grimly and spoke.
“Now you understand my haste. I received this vision several days ago, but I could not puzzle it out on my own. I decided it best to consult a specialist on the matter”.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The Pope inclined his head towards Hathor’s hunched figure. Hathor walked over to the nearest pew and collapsed, head leaning on his wooden cane.
“Very well”, he spoke in an exhausted voice as though the previous realisation had taken all the stamina from him. “Tell me. What knowledge did the Unseen grace you with?”
“There was no vision, no assault of the senses as you often describe. Only words spoken in a language I’d never heard of but somehow understood.”
The Pope paused as though steeling himself before continuing:
“The final one lies where the stars are hidden.
Bearer of truths it arrives unbidden.
Bound to a fate that none can cope,
It is a beginning, or an end to hope”.
The Pope finished his words and looked expectantly at Hathor. The Oracle's head remained bowed, seemingly deep in thought, when he abruptly jumped to his feet and burst out in exclamation.
“A riddle”, he said incredulously. “You've got to be kidding me. You’re sure you received this from the Unseen, yes? Not just some random dream you had?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it was from them”.
Hathor burst out into hysterics. “I’m afraid I’m no use to you.”, he wheezed in between laughs. “That sounds more like a prophecy from a kids’ fairy tale than any kind of vision I’ve had. Or any Oracle before.”
He paused to regain himself before continuing.
“You know that so-called ‘seeing the future’ is not quite as simple as that. Although it varies between individuals, from soothsayers to shamans, seers and more, there are similarities. Largely, there is no clear meaning. No direct words. The future can't speak to you, that would be ridiculous!"
“Even supposed 'divine revelations' rarely take the form of poems and whatnot. All of that wishy-washy nonsense is mainly done by the fortuneteller themselves for gravitas, or to muddy the waters so they can sound smarter to whatever rulers they serve.”
“I know all this”, said the Pope tiredly. “But I had still hoped you would know something.”
Hathor frowned, brows furrowed as he thought.
“Perhaps...”, he muttered. He looked up at the Pope and spoke out loud, “Could you remember what language it was in originally? Or at least what it sounded like? That could help narrow it down.”
The Pope nodded as he waved a hand, the shadows behind depositing a pen and paper onto the air in front of him.
He scribbled down some letters, phonetically describing what he had heard from the Unseen.
Hathor looked over it before tapping at his wrist and flicking his eyes over some information on his retinal implant. After a few minutes, he grinned and barked a laugh.
“No wonder you wouldn’t recognise it. Although you may have access to all our records, it’d need a specialist to look over it. I suppose that’s why you called me, after all. The language is related to one spoken by the Ignis.”
The Pope’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “The Ignis? From the Colosseum run by that Duke Thanadon?”
“Indeed.", Hathor confirmed. "Although he has never spoken of his homeworld, we have a few seconds of data in total from him speaking an unknown language. It is a 98.231% match, well within limits of statistical significance.”
The Pope rubbed his chin as he mused, “The Duke entered the galactic stage just over a millennia ago. I suppose that longevity is mildly interesting, but since no-one has seen him without his full armour I doubt it’s the same being all those years”.
“Yes, we have older records that suggest a very slight difference in stature. As well as records of our direct interactions with him. There have been several changes, only a couple of percent each, but enough to support your theory. The last one was -”.
His fingers flashed over mid air and his pupils flickered as he calculated.
“About fifty years ago. For a total of ten changes over the last 1219 years. The longest lasting 350 years and the shortest only ten.”
“Duke Thanadon from the Colosseum Igni”, the Pope pondered thoughtfully. “We must mount an expedition into the Uncharted Zones immediately.”
“Which branch is there currently?”, Hathor asked.
“Archbishop Catrexus, in service of He Who Wields the Sword of Gehenna. He was investigating rumours regarding the potential appearance of an elder construct near the Shattered Belts.”
“Catrexus, huh”, Hathor considered with a thoughtful look. “He’d be a good pick to counter the Duke. He should be able to handle it if it came to blows”.
“I certainly don’t doubt his martial prowess. But this mission requires more than brute force.”
“Perhaps Cardinal Gem? She has worked with Catrexus before. And boasts an impressive record.”
“Indeed”, the Pope ruminated. “She distinguished herself well in the Arklight District”.
He nodded. Having come to a decision he relayed his orders to Hathor.
“Inform Cardinal Gem of her orders. She is to travel to the Uncharted Zones and rendez-vous with Archbishop Catrexus immediately. Cardinal Ezekial is to oversee her duties in Alliance territory in the meanwhile.
“Her orders are to override Archbishop Catrexus’ standing orders. The elder construct can wait – a mere rumour cannot supersede the importance of this vision.”
The Pope fished around inside his robes before retrieving a small disc of marble. It was plane white, yet had a deceptive heaviness on it. He passed it over to Hathor.
“Hand this Pope’s Seal to Cardinal Gem. It contains more details on my orders. She can bring any personnel she feel comfortable with, whether they are on active duty or not. Impress upon her our urgency, Hathor."
The Duke spoke solemnly.
“We must find what the portent describes.”
Hathor received the marble disc with reverence, placing it carefully in an inner pocket of his crimson robe. He bowed his head and intoned, “The Unseen as our witness."
He unbowed his head and looked back up, as far as his hunchback would allow, at least.
"And what of the High Council?”, Hathor asked.
The Pope crossed his arms behind his back and said, “I will speak with them soon. Regarding this, they will not object. After all, the direct words of the Unseen are comparable to the Holy Decree itself.”
“Very well”, Hathor tapped his cane on the stone floor twice. “Next time you call me, let it not be about something so dire. A cup of tea would be nice.”
The Pope smiled and nodded, “Perhaps”.
Hathor grunted and turned around to begin his laborious walk back through the aisle.
Just as he was about to open the doors to leave, the Pope spoke out in a raised voice.
“May the luck of the Traveler be upon you, old friend”
“And the grace of the Pure Ones on you”, Hathor chuckled a reply.
The stone doors screeched open once again and Hathor stepped out before they slid shut behind him with a deep thud. The Cathedral was returned to a more muted silence than the one the Pope found it in.
Even the shadows seemed more subdued than before, perhaps affected by the portents revealed in their presence. The Pope ascended the raised platform and returned to his kneeling posture of prayer in front the altar, his head bowed before the grieving face of the statue above.
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[EXPERIMENT LOG ACCESS REQUEST DETECTED]
* Initiating secure channel…
* Validating user credentials…
[VALIDATED: HELLO USER 0.]
* Searching system database for experiment logs…
* Retrieving records of “Overproject LAST RESORT Primary Directive ICARUS”…
- [START OF RECORD] -
[SYSTEM BOOT INITIATED]
* Initiating Primary Neural Kernel…
* Bio-sensory Failsafe: Armed
* Signal Buffering: [Engaged]
* Connecting Transdimensional Clock…
* Establishing date…
* Date established 15.12.003…
* Establishing co-ordinates…
* Co-ordinates established uncorrupted…
* Executing bootstrap.exe please standby…
* Loading…
* Complete!
* Checking credentials…
[OPERATIVE PROTOCOLS ACTIVE: WELCOME USER 1!]
* Preparing xenographic interface...
* Loading core programs...
* Spooling reactor cores...
* All Systems Synced. Initialisation Complete
[AWAITING INPUT]
* Set Overproject LAST RESORT: Active
* Execute primary directive: ICARUS
[ICARUS READY. AWAITING SET CONDITIONS]
* Initiating anchor...
* Distilling aether...
* Aether levels stable...
[PRIMING SEQUENCE COMPLETE]
* Execute iteration 1 extraction experiment...
[STANDBY FOR FIRST ITERATION EXTRACTION...]
* Loading...
* Complete!
* Fetching results...
[EXTRACTION FAILURE]
* Begin analysis...
[STANDBY FOR ANALYSIS]
* Loading...
* Analysis complete!
[DISPLAY RESULTS?]
* Y/N
[FETCHING...]
* Cognitive Imprint Stability: 0.12
* Temporal Resistance: low
* Energy Conductance: low
* Half-life: 2.352 picoseconds
* Dimensional Integrity Index: 0.0023
* Viability Index: 0.00004
[PARAMETERS OBTAINED]
* Logging failures...
* Adjusting conditions...
[STANDBY FOR SECOND ITERATION EXTRACTION]
- [END OF RECORD] -
* Log retrieval complete.
* Terminating secure channel.