Selene's insistence on all of them sleeping in the same room became unmistakably clear as she firmly declared they would continue their nightly watch routine from the road. Arden tried to reason with her, but she was unyielding, her voice tinged with an undercurrent of unease. "I just have a bad feeling about this place," she admitted, her eyes scanning the dimly lit corners of the room.
In the end, Arden found he didn’t mind the arrangement. The larger room they were assigned came with its own writing desk - a real luxury. The desk, made of dark, polished wood, stood sturdily in the corner of the room. It was accompanied by a comfortable chair and bathed in the soft, ambient glow of a magical light that hung overhead, casting a warm, inviting aura around the workspace. The only catch was the mana required to power the light; one had to supply it themselves, of course.
Seeing the potential for a productive night, Arden volunteered for the first watch. He had projects he was eager to delve into, his mind already racing with the possibilities that lay within the tools spread out before him.
However, Ava’s gentle reminder brought him back to the present. "Remember to keep an eye out, Arden," she said, her voice laced with a mix of affection and knowing concern. She was well aware of how engrossed he could become in his work, often losing track of time and surroundings.
Settling into the comfortable chair, Arden acknowledged Ava’s reminder with a nod. He opened his notebook, aware of how far behind he was in documenting his latest findings and thoughts. His pen began to glide across the paper in a rhythmic dance, each stroke capturing the flurry of ideas in his mind.
The room, with its soft magical light and the faint sounds of his companions' breathing, created a cocoon of concentration for Arden. Yet, beneath this focus, a part of his mind remained alert, attuned to any unusual sounds or movements in the inn. Selene’s words echoed in his thoughts, a reminder that, despite the tranquility of their immediate surroundings, they were still in a place of uncertainty and potential danger.
Arden turned his attention first to the mana storage he had acquired from the Haywoods, putting aside the temptation of the ancient rune etcher for the moment. His comprehension of these cylindrical mana stones had grown immensely, a development he owed to the knowledge gleaned from Maggie's journal, as well as the insights shared by Cortana and Galadrian. One vital insight he had gleaned was that the cylindrical shape of the mana storages was more a nod to tradition than a requirement for the functionality of the spells. His own medallion stood as a testament to this fact. The contemporary mana storages emulated the form of the ancient mana reservoirs, but their functions differed significantly. Unlike the ancient versions that were capable of generating mana, the modern stones were designed solely for storage purposes.
He placed the stone cylinder on the table and began the meticulous process of deciphering its runes. The more he delved into runic scripts, the more he found them fascinating, each symbol representing not just words but entire constructs or objects.
Approaching the runes with his background in programming proved advantageous. The runes could be arranged in any sequence, but it was crucial to establish a hierarchy and interconnectedness among them, allowing the system to execute the ‘program’. This concept resonated with Arden’s understanding of coding and system design.
This flexibility in rune construction, however, also made learning and using them a complex endeavor. There was no singularly correct method to link the runes – it largely depended on the creator’s perspective and references. Arden had learned that different schools and cultures approached these connections in varied ways, contributing to the richness and diversity of runic magic. This diversity, he recalled Galadrian boasting, was why elves, despite being foremost experts in runic lore, often struggled to comprehend human-crafted spells.
Arden's fingertips gently caressed the runes, his mind weaving through their intricate maze of connections. The creation of a mana storage was a delicate task, hinging on the precision of its boundaries. A mere fraction off, and the magic contained within would seep out, a common flaw he had observed in many such stones. Yet, this stone was a marvel of craftsmanship, its structure impeccable, a rarity in the realm of rune crafting.
As he delved deeper, Arden discovered an alteration in the script—an awkward, clumsy modification that marred the original's elegance. This crude attempt at modification sparked a wave of irritation within him. Such ham-handed tampering spoke of ignorance and disrespect for the art. Arden's mind raced, suspicion narrowing on a likely culprit behind this inelegant work.
Each rune told a story, a narrative disrupted by this unwelcome intrusion. The emotional undercurrent of his discovery was a mix of admiration for the original creator's skill and frustration at the botched alteration. It was as if someone had taken a masterfully written poem and scrawled their own lines in the margins.
In the quiet of the room, with only the soft hum of magic in the air, Arden's resolve hardened. He would not let this affront to the craft stand. His first instinct was to rectify the error, an old habit from his programming days where he couldn't leave a flawed code unresolved. Deciding to test the rune etcher, Arden began his work, though Jorin had only given him a rudimentary explanation of its operation. Feeding the etcher some mana activated it, and as he drew his rune, he channeled his mana through the top part of the tool.
As Arden meticulously made corrections, he uncovered that what seemed like a flaw was deliberately built into the original design. This feature, which mimicked a leak, was actually channeling a portion of mana into a concealed compartment, cleverly conserving energy. The modifications he found had only altered the quantity of mana being diverted, not its fundamental purpose. Intrigued, he restored it to its original state.
Upon finishing, Arden stepped back to admire his work. The tool had made the process significantly easier than it would have been otherwise. What typically required a considerable amount of mana and concentration was now as effortless as writing with the etcher. He marveled at its efficiency, a testament to the ingenuity of its design.
A sudden realization halted Arden's train of thought. He stared at the rune etcher in his hand, a growing sense of confusion taking over. Jorin had insisted that this etcher couldn't be used, yet here it was, functioning perfectly in his grasp. What did this mean?
As he mulled over the implications, a strong sensation of uncertainty washed over him. His initial plan had been to dismantle the etcher. He remembered the hidden lock, keyed to an unseen locking rune, glimpsed briefly from the split etcher in Jordin shop. That fleeting observation had instilled in him a confidence that he could successfully navigate its inner workings.
Arden's initial curiosity about the rune etcher had been driven by a desire to understand its intricacies, not necessarily to use it. The tool's delicate craftsmanship held the promise of untold knowledge, a treasure trove for someone like him, devoted to the art of runic magic. Yet, now that it was operational in his hands, a sense of trepidation crept in. He hesitated, contemplating the consequences of his actions. The possibility of damaging such a unique and functional artifact weighed heavily on him. Could he really risk losing this newfound asset?
He stared at the etcher, its surface almost inviting him to unlock its secrets. Arden knew that what he decided next could redefine his understanding of runic magic. Gently, he applied a small amount of mana to the area where he suspected the hidden locking mechanism was, guided by the fleeting glimpse he had caught in Jorin's shop. To his relief, his intuition proved correct; the etcher split open seamlessly, revealing its elaborate interior and the spiraling tube.
But his triumph was short-lived. The excess mana, now uncontained by the etcher's split field, began to surge uncontrollably. Arden felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple as he scrambled for a solution. The mana storage stone still lay on the table; without a second thought, he directed the leaking mana towards it.
As the mana flowed, Arden sensed an alarming discordance. The rune on the etcher glowed ominously, while the rune on the mana storage seemed painfully limited in comparison, as if a crucial component was missing. In a flash of realization, Arden understood the mismatch – but it was too late. The forced mana, incompatible with the storage's rudimentary rune, triggered a catastrophic reaction. The storage stone exploded, sending tiny, sharp fragments flying in all directions. One moment Arden was focused on his task, and the next, he was struck by a hail of stone shards. Pain seared through his face as he instinctively shielded his eyes, shouting out in shock and agony. Tiny fragments pelted his face like a swarm of angry bees, each sting sharp and sudden. His hands flew up instinctively to shield his eyes, even as he reeled from the shock. The pain was immediate and intense, a burning sensation across his skin.
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In the chaotic aftermath of the explosion, Arden's face burned with pain, and his ears rang disorienting. Overwhelmed by frustration and self-reproach for his miscalculation, he barely registered the rapid footsteps of his companions rushing in. Embarrassment surged through him as he struggled to speak, wanting to reassure them, yet unable to form the words.
Ava was the first to reach him, her voice tinged with worry. "Let me see," she insisted, gently but firmly pushing his hands away from his face. Her touch was light, yet full of purpose, as her healing energy began to work its magic, drawing out the shards and amplifying the sting.
Selene, hovering nearby, asked with evident frustration, "What happened?" Arden, wincing under Ava's ministrations, managed a terse reply, "I messed up a simple mana transfer."
Though Selene's face showed her dissatisfaction with the brief explanation, she didn't press further, her concern shifting to Ava. "Will he be, okay?" she asked.
Ava, focused on her task, responded without looking up. "Yes, the shards didn't go deep."
In that moment, as Arden watched Ava's concentrated efforts, her brow furrowed in concentration, something stirred within him. Amidst the pain and confusion, he felt a fleeting warmth that went beyond physical healing – a moment of connection that left his heart skipping a beat.
As Ava neared the completion of her healing, Arden's gaze drifted back to the etcher, his mind racing to understand the mishap. When he attempted to engage his [Mana Sight], a searing pain erupted within him, akin to molten lava coursing through his brain. He groaned aloud, the agony overwhelming.
Ava, mistaking his reaction for a complication in her healing, asked with a hint of panic, "What's wrong? I thought the healing was taking effect."
Arden couldn't muster a response as his skill [Mental Focus] only intensified the torment. The pain eclipsed Ava's concerned inquiry, and before he could comprehend what was happening, darkness claimed him, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
As Arden fluttered back to consciousness, he found himself lying in a bed, the softness of the linen contrasting sharply with his throbbing head. Beside him, Ava sat with a look of deep concern etching her features. "What happened?" she inquired, her voice laced with worry.
"I'm not sure," Arden replied, his voice a mere whisper, strained with confusion. "I tried to tap into my skills, and an intense pain shot through me like a bolt of lightning." His words hung heavy in the air, filled with the weight of his bewilderment.
Compelled by a mix of determination and dread, Arden once again reached inward to summon his [Mana Sight], only for the pain to return with a vengeance. It was as if a tempest raged within his skull, fiercer and more relentless than before. Overcome by the onslaught, darkness swiftly enveloped him, pulling him under into oblivion once more.
Upon regaining consciousness once more, Arden was met with Ava's gaze, now shadowed with an even greater urgency. "Arden, please, don't attempt to use any skills—just listen," she implored. Arden, wary of his own condition, merely nodded, his throat too tight for words.
"I've applied [Intricate Insight Diagnostic] extensively," Ava continued, her voice a mix of professionalism and palpable concern. "Physically, you appear unharmed. I want you to try connecting to your mana but sever the connection immediately afterward. Understand?" With another cautious nod, Arden complied, bracing himself for what was to come.
The moment he tentatively reached out for his mana, a familiar agony began to sear through him. Panicked and frightened, he hastily withdrew, his eyes seeking Ava's.
"I can't see anything amiss, yet I can feel your pain through our link. This doesn't make sense," Ava confessed, her brow furrowed in confusion.
However, Arden grasped the gravity of his situation. In that brief, harrowing moment when he dared to touch his mana, he perceived two runes at war within him: one vast and embracing, symbolizing boundless potential; the other, constricting and suppressive, eager to confine and control. This latter rune was aggressively vying for supremacy, attempting to overwrite his essence, while his inner spirit mounted a valiant defense, rebuffing the foreign imposition.
Though he could venture guesses at the source of this conflict, the underlying reasons for its occurrence—and, crucially, how to resolve it—remained maddeningly out of reach. The complexity of these runes, intertwined with his very being, suggested a puzzle far beyond simple magical ailments. Wrestling with these revelations, Arden realized that untangling this enigma was not just about reclaiming his powers but perhaps about preserving his very identity.
Feeling an unfamiliar surge of panic, Arden found himself missing the steadying clarity his [Mental Focus] skill usually provided. Yet, there were crucial checks he needed to conduct. First, he retrieved his notebook and Maggie's journal. To his immense relief, he could read both: his notes, penned in English, a language he was certain remained foreign to all in Eranthia; and the journal, written in Maggie's native tongue, indecipherable without the aid of his medallion and [Natural Languages] skill.
Compelled to further assess his condition, Arden then performed a more personal test. He drew his dagger, lightly slicing his hand. The action prompted an alarmed reaction from Ava.
"Arden, what are you doing?" she exclaimed, her voice laced with concern.
"It's alright. I'm just conducting a test. Please, don't assist with the healing," he assured her, watching carefully as the wound began to mend on its own. A wave of relief washed over him. "I think I need some additional rest. Could someone else cover for me?" he requested before retreating to his bed.
Selene exchanged a glance with Ava, who simply shook her head and silently communicated, "Leave it." Several hours had passed since Arden's accident. Ava watched over her master with a furrowed brow, her concern deepening. Arden had not shown such a level of distraction and disconnection since she had come to know him.
****
As dawn's light began to seep through the windows, Ava trailed behind Arden, descending the stairs to the inn's main room in preparation for their departure. The morning air was crisp, filled with the promise of a journey continued, yet Ava's mind was elsewhere, specifically on the man before her.
Arden moved with a hesitance that was uncharacteristic, a tangible sign of the turmoil that had plagued him since the mishap. His steps were measured, lacking their usual purpose, as if he were still grappling with the shadows of yesterday's events. It was a vulnerability Ava had never seen in him before—a stark contrast to the composed and confident master she knew.
Ava's gaze lingered on Arden, her concern deepening with each faltering step he took. Yet, within that concern, a new, unfamiliar warmth began to stir in her chest. Watching him in this light, stripped of his usual defenses, she couldn't deny the burgeoning affection taking root in her heart. It was a dangerous sentiment, she knew, for the lines between guardian and protector, master and apprentice, were not meant to blur.
"Are you certain you're ready to travel?" Ava's voice broke the silence, softer than intended, betraying her worry. Her eyes searched his, seeking to offer solace without overstepping the boundaries that had always governed their relationship.
Arden paused, offering her a weary smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I must be," he replied, his voice carrying a weight that seemed too heavy for the words. "We cannot delay for my discomfort."
But as they continued their descent, Ava couldn't shake the feeling that Arden was not just physically weakened but emotionally adrift as well. His usually sharp focus was clouded, his thoughts seemingly ensnared by an invisible web only he could feel.
The inn's main room was abuzz with the morning routines and some other quests, yet Ava barely noticed the chatter and clatter around them. Her attention remained fixed on Arden, her mind racing to find a way to ease his burden. As they prepared to step out into the new day, Ava vowed silently to remain steadfast by his side.
Ava's silent vow was tested sooner than she had anticipated. They had barely cleared the gates when they were overtaken by four riders, halting their progress with an air of menace. Ava's gaze swept over them, a sense of déjà vu washing over her as memories of a previous ambush flickered in her mind. Yet, observing this ragtag assembly, she felt nothing but disdain. She could see through their facade: three were burly, likely brawlers accustomed to tavern scuffles, but ill-equipped for a confrontation with seasoned mercenaries and mages. The only threat, a shadowy figure lingering at the rear, radiated a controlled mana presence, hinting at magical capabilities.
What irked her most was their blatant underestimation, viewing them as three women guarded by a single, weakened man. Despite Brynja's formidable stature, their predatory gazes revealed their misconceptions. Ava's patience snapped.
As the leader, with a smug grin, insinuated a "road toll" in a tone dripping with innuendo, suggesting they could settle it in unsavory ways, Ava stepped forward, cutting off Selene's attempt at diplomacy. "I don't give a damn about your opinions. Back off, or face the consequences," Ava declared, her voice ice-cold.
Selene's warning of "Ava…" was cut short as the shadowy mage in the back conjured a fireball. Ava's thoughts raced—always fire, so predictable. "Learn some real magic," she scoffed. With swift, unseen movements, she unleashed a lightning spell on the mage before he could even react. His attempt at defense was futile; he was thrown from his horse as his fireball harmlessly scorched a tree. Ava barely suppressed a snort of contempt.
Without warning, Ava struck the remaining men with lightning, albeit at a reduced power. Her mastery in manipulating the spell was undeniable, a testament to her skill and Arden's unconventional teachings. To those unfamiliar with magic, it was a display of raw power, but to Selene, who had witnessed her fair share of magicians, it was not just a revelation of Ava's extraordinary control and innovation; it was a stark reminder of the potential lurking within her lineage.
As the air crackled with the aftermath of Ava's spell, a chilling thought crept into Selene's mind, unbidden yet impossible to ignore. She found herself grappling with a sudden fear, not just of the power Ava wielded so effortlessly, but of the shadow cast by her heritage. Ava's mother, Lila, the King's Death Whisperer, was a figure shrouded in tales of dread and awe. If Ava, in her youth and with a heart not yet hardened by the cruelties of their world, could command such formidable magic, what did that say about the depth of Lila's power?
The realization that she stood beside the progeny of the kingdom's most feared and respected mage sent a shiver down Selene's spine. It was a fear not rooted in the present moment, where Ava's intentions were clear and her loyalty to Arden and their cause unquestionable, but in the potential of what she could become.
This prowess was born from Arden's guidance. Despite—or perhaps because of—his own recent foray into magic, he had insisted that their skills should not confine them but serve as a foundation for growth. Together, they had honed their abilities, Ava with her [Basic Lightning Bolt] and Arden with his [Magic Missile], each pushing the boundaries of what they thought possible.
After dispatching the threat with a display of her refined magical skills, Ava's gaze instinctively sought Arden. It was a look laced with a complex mix of concern, admiration, and a newfound sense of responsibility. In moments like these, Arden was typically at the forefront, facing danger head-on, his presence a shield against any who dared threaten them. Now, the roles had subtly shifted, with Ava stepping forward to protect. This change did not diminish her respect for him; if anything, it deepened her understanding of their partnership and the mutual support it entailed.
Seeing him there, slightly behind the action yet watching her with a blend of pride and gratitude, Ava felt a surge of protectiveness. Her heart ached at the thought of him in any pain or danger, reinforcing her resolve to be his safeguard in times when he could not. This moment, under the scrutiny of Arden's appreciative gaze, was a silent acknowledgment of their evolving roles. Ava was not just a student or a follower but a guardian in her own right, shaped by Arden's teachings and her own fierce will.
Their eyes met, an unspoken conversation passing between them. In that exchange, Ava pledged anew to stand by Arden, to face whatever challenges came with unwavering courage and a heart fiercely loyal. As they resumed their journey toward the Latimer estate, Ava's determination was as clear as the daylight breaking through the canopy above, a beacon of strength for Arden and a promise of her unwavering support, no matter what lay ahead. But first she needed to confront Chandler.