After a fitful sleep clutching a letter opener under his pillow, Ori awoke to a knock on his door. A mousy, young serving girl entered before revealing the day's schedule and a brief tour of the guest wings' hygiene facilities.
A warm bath, which Ori wished he could luxuriate in, was followed by a nobleman's breakfast full of salty meat, freshly baked and buttered bread, and a cold drink that tasted nothing like coffee but seemed to produce the same brain-enabling effects. He was officially in the best physical state he had been in for weeks, or aeons however, butterflies couldn't help but dance around in his lower intestines.
Part of the problem was that he hadn't quite figured out what he was going to do. There was a small seed in his mind that refused to believe this was all real; the artificial environments of the trials had conditioned him into believing that none of this was happening as it was just some sort of magical simulation, a complex dream that would disappear like smoke as soon as Ori left.
In addition to that seed of doubt, Ori was lukewarm on the prospect of risking his not quite life for causes that had little to do with him and worse, utterly hated the idea of being a soldier, a pleb on the battlefield, good enough only to take orders and make up the numbers. His death would be just a statistic, his blood sweat and tears, just a waste. He could understand the need for combat, for warfare, for violence. But to be ordered to do so, unquestioningly as part of a labyrinthine hierarchy? No, that was just not for him. Even the notion of being a cog in a far more normal, corporate machine appalled him to the point that he had gone into engineering, in part, to find alternatives.
In addition, the Game of Thrones-style political infighting and backstabbing was already giving him anxiety headaches. It was almost enough for Ori to walk away right then and move on to the next, and final summoning.
Almost.
‘It would be so easy to be a colossal bellend and soul-bind the thing and then say, 'Nah mate.' and run off with the treasure,’ Ori thought to himself, Freya’s words on his mind. ‘But is that who I want to be? The person who looks back on life with smiles or the one who looks back on life with regrets. And, when it comes down to it, I kinda like doing the hero thing. At least once. To know what it feels like to try, so… Time to be a hero, I guess.’
With his mind made up at least for now, Ori felt lighter.
‘Nope, damn butterflies. Seems like it’s squeaky-bum time until this trial's over.’
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"We're receiving reports that the B-rankers have met with the vanguard of Eltitus the Ravager."
"The army of undead stretches from horizon to horizon. Millions, they said."
"City walls are scheduled to close at sundown in preparation for martial law."
"Even if the Sovereign rankers prove successful, the land throughout Astor will be dead, its earth salted by the undead curse..."
Ori listened to the din of whispered discussions, his combination of mental state and acuities making it simultaneously easier to follow the conversations, and harder to care.
He stood in a stone vestibule somewhere in the centre of the city after travelling for what must have been an hour in a horse-drawn carriage. His eyes had been glued to the classical stone, European medieval-style architecture of the inner city. He imagined this being grander, cleaner, and more developed than a London from such an era, given what he remembered from his history lessons and Tower of London tours. The smells of raw sewage and over-ripened meat were thankfully dealt with by fantasy world magics, probably.
He had also caught sight of familiar fantasy races, from coal-dark-skinned men and women to a finely dressed fox-eared gentlemen, winged women who seemed less angelic and far more martial, brawny green-skinned men with overly long tusks, blue-skinned giants and cyclops that somehow radiated physical might while blending into the general crowd that went about their business as if it were just another Tuesday. Beyond the odd family or merchant packing all they could carry while hastily making their way against the morning traffic with their belongings, the city seemed unconcerned or dangerously unaware.
"They don't know, do they?" Ori asked Elray.
"The council voted against... alarming the public," Elray sighed.
Back in the vestibule, escorted by Lavine's faction of the council and a handful of guards, all Ori could do was wait for Fitzgerald to lead them to the all-but-certain trap.
"There's been a change of plans," Fitzgerald announced as he emerged into the vestibule with his coterie of armoured gentlemen.
"Fuck’sake," Ori cursed under his breath. His plan for such a scenario was already set. In the morning, before setting off, he and Lady Lavine had gone over various details, from how the soul-binding process would work, to where they would meet and perform the ritual. Although Ori's knowledge of the local surroundings was non-existent, he also had a modicum of common sense.
Initially, he moved with the party through the streets surrounding the official-looking stone keep he had been waiting within. Slowing his pace so that he was towards the back of the group, he tossed a stone, hoping to misdirect — a by now finely honed tactic, and using the subsequent distraction as they turned onto an intersection. Ori slipped out of the group assembled to guard him, and hopefully, away from Fitzgerald's trap.
After previously insisting on a cloak before leaving Lavine's manor, Ori raised his hood and ran.
"Excuse me, sir, do you know the directions to the Temple of Zerachiel, The Enlightener?" Ori asked the denonair fox man he had seen earlier. Wearing a three-piece suit covered in sharp green plaid, with his bright red tie matching a mane of bristly red hair, the man seemed strangely out of place while also being timelessly fashionable.
"Propel yourself with the mad dash you arrived in, in such a direction," the fox man gestured with a nod, his accent carrying a strange basso musicality along with the formality he knew to be from another language. "And you shall find yourself at the main entrance post haste."
"Most obliged, by the way, I dig these threads, dapper boss man," Ori grinned, then ran as he reflected on the oddness of the encounter.
Less temple and more a cathedral, Ori spotted a frazzled Lady Lavine just a moment before she saw him.
"What? Where are the rest?" Lavine asked.
"No time, we need to leave."
"Seraphs help us. No, there is nowhere else to run; you must do it now while I do what I can," she replied, handing over an ornate wooden box approximately half a metre in length.
"Are you sure?"
"No, but we’re out of options and this will be our only chance."
Ori opened the box, and within it, a wand seemingly made of colourless diamond sat upon a velvet pillow. As thick as his thumb at the base, it tapered off towards the thickness of a knitting needle at the tip.
Light from the noonday sun poured through stained glasswork that covered the walls, and even parts of the roof invited light into the vast medieval space. Light that as he lifted to inspect the artefact, shone with a multicoloured, hyper-faceted radiance that stole Ori's breath away. It was a ridiculous piece of jewellery, a delicate-looking diamond that was overly long and sparkly, and yet it was the single most beautiful object he had ever seen.
At that moment, chaos erupted as armed guards barged into the temple.
"Stop him!" Fitzgerald's voice echoed just as a crossbow bolt clanged against a shimmering, translucent barrier. Ori flinched, then ducked behind the pews, before crawling to find better cover.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"Ori! Don't you dare let my daughter's sacrifice be in vain," Lavine shouted, and Ori nodded to himself knowing that it was now or never. His grip on the glass rod tightened before he pushed at the wand with his will, his intent to bond clear in his mind, and the world around him slowed.
As an unAwakened, Ori was left to do this instinctually, feeling his way through the questions and options this process would have otherwise presented him with.
'I want to soul-bind with you. May I?'
A feeling. Another question, perhaps a challenge?
'I accept.' Ori answered.
A pressure, and then a somewhat familiar radiance flowed through Ori with the intensity of a sun. It threatened to burn, to purify him in the righteous strictures of celestial order and law. Ori was worthy, but he would not bow to an order imposed upon him. Ori was righteous, but he would rather live in a world with questions and unknown truths over a world where the truths couldn't be questioned.
It was his will against the formless, mechanical pressure of an artefact that had accepted his worthiness but did not know him as kin. A perfect crystal as rigid as the lawful codices that governed its formation. As it could never bend, when confronted by a greater will, the wand cracked.
It was a crack that propagated from base to tip, a schism that reflected another world, another dream like a galaxy trapped in a glass marble. The challenge changed from being his will versus the artefact, to his will keeping the wand from breaking apart. Within the wand was his astral chaos sandwiched by celestial order, two diametrically opposed forces that would otherwise repulse each other. However, it was Ori's material mind that saw the cycle this represented, a fundamental aspect of reality: thermodynamics, entropy, and the gradient of energy. There can be no power without change, no light, heat, or life without the transition from order to disorder. Fumbling using his pure instincts, Ori attempted to fuse the aspects of astral and celestial by creating something his inner physicist screamed was a perpetual motion machine, while retaining the original functionalities of the Wand, or at least as much of it as he could.
And then something unexpected happened.
‘Ah-ha! I knew it would work! Ugh, but it wasn't supposed to hurt this much. Ugh... Wait, what in Seraph's name are you doing?’
Ori almost lost focus, allowing the crack to propagate an inch further as the familiar voice suddenly entered his thoughts.
‘A little busy here,’ Ori growled mentally.
‘It hurts so much. As a disembodied soul within a phylactery; I shouldn't feel anything.’
"Please, I really need to focus here," Ori said before he was hit by a flood of soothing energies. Clarity returned to his once-overburdened mind, and Ori refocused.
‘Better?’
"Much. What was that?"
‘It seems that despite being dead, my soul still has access to my spell constellations… so I cast Beacon of Wisdom... Now, if you would be so kind as to stop the pain.’
‘I think I almost broke it— you, by accident. My energies are kind of trying to split it – er, you – apart, I think.’
‘How do you... Oh... Oooh! So, this is the Astral. Don't tell me I’ve been soul-bonded to one of those icky purple magi. Oh, no... Oh my. By the Seraphs, you're a mortal, but just what in creation are you?’
‘I am the guy who's trying pretty hard not to have you shatter into a million pieces.’ Ori grunted.
‘Yes but, just what are you trying to do? I mean, I can see that you're trying to do something... but? Hmmm? Will that work?’
‘Err, you tell me? Ori asked.
‘I mean, I don't really understand how it will work, but I could see why it might... And if it did... oh, wow, woooow. Yes, now I crave to see what happens next. Go on, do it.’
‘But if it breaks, then you'll shatter.’
‘Then don't let it break, obviously.’
‘But—’
‘The facets, they represent the internal structure of the crystal, part tetragonal, hexagonal and cubic…’ The voice continued with a stream of words that were not especially helpful but resonated with the rote knowledge from Freya.
In the end, the advice allowed Ori to structure the crystalline form to fit field lines of paracausal force focusing them in such a way that the astral and celestial forces not only balanced but combined to hold the fractured wand together while greatly increasing its Mana regeneration.
It wasn't perfect, with the item's quality degrading from Immortal to Sovereign rank due to its inherent structural weaknesses, specifically the ginormous crack that ran from base to tip. As a result, Ori could tell that item had lost the 'Immortal Life' aspect in exchange for becoming a B-rank ‘arcane source’ as well as a channelling focus, a type of item similar to a Wand that instead of focusing a users magic, generated Mana like a supplemental battery or dynamo.
‘Well, how's that?’ Ori asked.
‘Much better, the pain is gone, so thank you.’
Yeah. So, what's next?’
‘Yes, well then, I believe we have time for a proper introduction: I am Lady Seraphine of House Searilian, C Rank Magi of the White, at your service.’
‘Ori Suba, Astral Adept. And, erm, Thanks.’
‘You are indeed welcome, and well, apologies for the whole, summoning you into a desperate situation and then dying part, couldn't be helped.’
‘So, yeah, about that?’
‘Hmmm?”
“You’re dead, but you're still speaking to me?”
“Indeed.”
‘How?” Ori pressed.
‘Well, to be precise, I would be best described as undead, technically. I… well, after my father, a High Yellow Mage at the Sovereign ranks… died facing the Ravager, I realised something we had all missed: we were trying to counter dark magic with light, the classic Dark Lich vs High White mage conflict. Except the Ravager is truly something different, less a true practitioner of dark magic in the sense of spirit mastery, and more like high white magi in their mastery over vitality, except that somehow, this Eltitus had mastery over Lifeforce, making him unbeatable by conventional means beyond overwhelming him with higher ranked combatants.
‘So, I changed tactics, suspecting that at one point in time Eltitus may have been a white magi or something similar before becoming a Necromancer and a Lich. My focus switched to spirits and souls. I had planned on following my father as a High White Magi, but as they say, sometimes you must fight fire with fire. Which leads me to this moment, as a disembodied soul half a step away from becoming a White Lich.’
‘White Lich, like the Ravager?’ Ori asked in confusion.
‘Yes. White Magi focus on preserving life and empowering their allies while maintaining a strict adherence to the principles of order. A White Lich extends those principles by reaching into the realms of spirits and the soul.’
‘So what, does that make you like, a good necromancer?’
‘Hmmm, I suppose, though not exactly the direction I personally want to tread as I certainly have no interest in raising armies of the dead. But resurrection where all parties consent? To ward the spirits of those I care about from death until their bodies can be healed? To unravel the connection between lifeforce and souls so that I may prevent abominations like Eltitus from ever rising again? Those are all things I strive for, and while becoming an Arch White Magi might accomplish some of those goals in time, all I need to complete my class evolution to White Lich is a body and a willing apprentice. Would you happen to be interested?" Seraphine asked, a smile clear in her voice.
‘Apprentice Lich? I… maybe?’
‘Oh no, you’d be an Apprentice White Magi, all chromatic mage classes require training for progression beyond apprenticeship. While I'm not sure if you becoming an apprentice white mage would be the perfect fit for your astral affinity, if it'll prevent another fate-cursed purple mage from being born, then I'll accept your humble sacrifice.’
‘I like, have no idea what you're talking about,’ Ori said, only now starting to realise that he had once again bound himself to another… being that could talk in his head. ‘Does that make it two or will Crucible leave my thoughts unmolested if I manage to unanchor him?’ Ori wondered to himself.
‘An understandable response. We'll discuss this more later as now, I suppose it's time to return to the present.’
‘Yeah, your mother is outside fighting. Is there anything we can do to help?’
‘Do NOT mention anything about my existence to my mother; she will, for lack of a better term, become greatly distressed.’
‘Really? You know she really misses…’
‘No, I am serious. If I ever ask anything of you, it is this. Do not tell my mum.’
‘Alright, for now, but we'll discuss this when it's all over,’ Ori agreed.
‘Very well. As for what we should do next? I am keen to see your affinities.’
‘And how do I…’ Ori started.
‘By using Aura Amplification of course. It's the innate ability that comes with soul bonding. Here…’ Like with a mental nudge, Seraphine directed him to the source of the ability in a mental space shared between them. ‘I can use the ability too, but I suspect that even your celestial affinities are higher than mine,’ she concluded.
The snapping sound of crossbow bolts and arcane missiles, along with the cries and shouts of fighting, were the first discordant senses to inform Ori of his return to reality. Time hadn't completely frozen during his soul-bonding experience, but it couldn't have been long since he had started. Ozone and woodsmoke clawed at his throat as he tried to control his breathing, his right fist clenched on the wand as he focused on the ability Seraphine had shown him. It wasn't complicated, but it was difficult, like making out a silhouette deep in the fog or trying to hear a whispered conversation on the tube. It took time, focus, and then... keyed into the sensation, Ori willed all his understanding of what affinities must be, his passion and determination, the knowledge of the light beyond the final light of stars, the stellar wind, the warning of slumber's dominion, the aurora's night sky.
Daylight became starlight, blue sky was replaced by the dancing edges of dream and the world stilled. The influences of the celestial were sensed more than seen through the twilight while something profound and unsettling was felt in the voids between stars. Ori staggered out of the votive altar into the temple's aisle, eyes focused upwards on a cathedral roof completely replaced by a manifestation of his will.
'Good grief, what in Seraph's name is this? I can't even sense it; even the library has no name for this. Ori, just who are you?' Seraphine's normally exuberant tone was replaced by something awed and unnerved. It brought Ori out of his state and allowed him to process the room. Dozens of soldiers had piled through the entrance, with a beleaguered Lady Lavine taking cover behind a stone pillar to the side of the pews. Unlike most of the others, whose eyes were firmly fixed on the ceiling, she stared at Ori with wide eyes. He simply nodded in return.
"It's done," Ori stood in the centre of the aisle, arms apart in a pistol duellist's ready stance, Seraphine, the wand pointed towards the floor. Even at the corner of his vision, it glowed, not with light but with the same tingling feeling the previous wands he had connected with had. It was a comfort to be armed like this once again, even though instead of a minor artefact will, Ori felt Seraphine's presence. It was the difference between a whisper and a shout. "I will fight Eltitus, but if anybody else gets hurt, I will leave this realm and your city to its fate," Ori demanded.