No one spoke for a few seconds; then, tiredly, Kelfir gestured towards the archway. "Would the two of you mind assaying the enchantments while I take a short rest, then? There is no danger; attempting to cross the threshold will merely gently rebuff you. Let me know what transpires." Turning away, he walked a little ways off towards an underground river; Topher watched sadly as the Archmage faced away and crossed his arms in a feeble attempt to hide his emotions. He sighed and shuffled his feet in unhappiness; swing and a miss. "Sorry, Varissian. I was hoping that'd turn out differently."

"One can but make the attempt, Christopher," the elf reassured him. "Pay it no mind. I may be a neophyte in many fields, but I have extensive experience with my father's expectations." Turning towards the archway, he raised his gaze to take it in seriously for the first time; Topher's eyes followed unconsciously.

The entrance was carved in the shape of a crude bearded face; the gaping mouth formed the entryway, with curly rings of dwarven whiskers framing the sides of the passage. Though the artistry was rudimentary at best, Topher could feel the expertise of the craftsdwarfship and stonework almost through the nerves of his face; the deep, precise chips and shearing, the overhanging structure of the brows to protect the more intricate eyes and other features below from erosion, and the powerful sternness and digilence which had given it its form. After a moment, Varissian lurched forward, squeezing his eyes shut; Topher gently pulled him back with Attract Object. "Easy there, Geronimo. Let me try."

Topher stepped forward cautiously before the elf could object; instantly, he felt a strong, undeniable presence barring his passage. When he attempted to continue forward, he found that he could not; it was as though something thin and invisible was stretched across the entrance, matching his forward movement with a precisely equal amount of counterforce. Frowning, he attempted to discern the Status of whatever it was, but nothing appeared; whatever enchantment this is must not have an identity the Status can sense, I guess.

He was about to try going into a Metaphrastic trance to assess the bindings on the enchantment when Varissian surprised him; bringing his palms up close to his mouth, he whispered a few runes into them surreptitiously, and Topher blinked as the spell took form.

A tiny bird, no bigger than a golf ball, appeared in his hands; it flickered with the flames of the elf's aspect, and even at its tiny size Topher could see it was a swan. That's right. His Unique Skill is Swan Sorcery. For a half-second, it preened in Varissian's hands; then, elegantly and delicately, it took flight, rising into the air smoothly and drifting towards the entrance to the Crypt.

For a moment, Topher thought it might sail in past the enchantment; but almost immediately, it halted in the air in front of the entrance, slowing gently to a stop even as its incandescent wings beat silently at the air. It bobbed slightly, as though floating in water, then began to cross the space horizontally and vertically; after a moment, Topher realized it was mapping the force of the resistance. "That's a pretty good Lesser Yashfii visualization," he remarked, noting the little bird's precise, almost fastidious movements. "Really exceptional control."

Varissian kept his eyes on the Mage Light, guiding it through each subsequent movement. "I am afraid you have the advantage of me; I do not know the visualization of which you speak. This is the only way I have ever been taught to cast Mage Light."

Topher frowned, then shrugged; maybe his teacher couldn't teach him the standard version, only the advanced one. Whatever; we already knew elves sucked at education. Patiently, he waited as Varissian canvassed the whole of the entrance, but the resistance appeared uniform over the whole expanse of the portal; sighing, the elf recalled the manifestation and set it to drifting above his head aimlessly. "I suppose it would have been too simple. But it does make one wonder how mice and such traverse it."

"They might not," Topher pointed out. "For all we know, no living creature has passed through the entrance in however many thousands of years. But it was good to check; now we know to move on to the next thing." Moving next to the entrance, he laid his palm on the stone and intoned, "Mellon,", but nothing happened; he frowned. "I don't suppose you know the word for 'friend' in Elvish?"

"I do, in fact, speak my own native language quite fluently," Varissian returned acerbically, "and the word of which you speak is 'lynffas'. But I cannot see what relevance that could have."

Topher shrugged, trying not to giggle at the silliness of it all. "A story from my world. I was mostly just fooling around." Giving up, he closed his eyes and let himself drift into a trance; immediately, the binding before him became clearly and painfully visible to him.

It was not a Wyrd; it was something at once simpler and more elegant, a kind of self-sustaining enchantment of the sort that made Topher think of how the Soulbond Glue had turned his Stylus into a magic item. An instant's awareness told him that the binding was incredibly robust, stretching in all directions through the stone and dirt around the entrance; Jesus. Even earthworms probably can't get in or out. And this guy probably did it like locking the front door behind him when he went in, I'll bet. Awed, he let the trance lapse before he could waste any akasha. "Oof. I can see why Kelfir's having trouble; this is crazy."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Varissian snorted. "I am glad to hear his five centuries of expertise were not superseded by five minutes of your attention." He eyed the entrance for a moment, then shrugged. "This will likely be a waste of mana, but I can see no harm." Pointing his finger at the doorway, he intoned, "Ru Koreq Xym."

A Flame Jet spell erupted from the elf's outstretched digit, spanning the distance to the entryway with a glorious, phoenix-like bird-shape of living fire; even though Topher knew that it was the simplest possible casting of a level 1 mage spell, he was again struck by the beauty of the manifestation. Makes my aspect look like shit. He was further surprised when the elf maneuvered the jet of flame across the area of the doorway without moving his hand; Topher frowned, pretty sure that that should have been impossible. There's no visualization I know of that does that. Must be more elf magic stuff. To their mutual disappointment, however, the flames were halted at the threshold just like the Mage Light spell had been; the flames wavered and undulated in midair like they were being repulsed by a turbulent flow of water. Sighing, Varissian let the spell drop. "Foolish. I should have known."

Despite himself, Topher had to laugh; he vividly remembered Kelfir's identical despondency after their failure to extract Irineth's secrets from the Soulstone. "Don't sweat it. We'll figure something out -- but real quick, tell me something." Summoning his Ledger, he flipped to the page with the Lesser Yashfii extrusion and turned it around to show to Varissian. "You ever seen anything like this before?"

The elf shook his head. "Not that I can recall." His mouth twisted into a grimace. "Although my teacher would likely credit my inattention, rather than my ignorance."

"Hmm." Topher banished the Ledger and rubbed his chin in thought, but after a moment the import of Varissian's words penetrated his brain. "Your teacher? Who taught you?"

"A hedge mage in Kal'Pandu," Varissian replied sourly. "The only teacher who would deign to instruct a Common Elf. I have spoken at length of such experiences as constituted my instruction before; you will forgive me if I do not belabor them."

Topher's mouth dropped open. "You're fucking kidding. You seriously --" but his brain caught up with his mouth, and he snapped his mouth shut with a scowl. Of course. I don't know why I'm even surprised. "Never mind. Let's keep trying stuff."

They kept at it for nearly three hours; Topher attempted to use Attract Object to pull himself through the field, prodded the field with a loop of akasha, and tried to puncture the field with Fleet Zephyr, while Varissian bounced a few Magic Darts off the doorway and tried various words in various languages in hopes of a pass-phrase. When Varissian ran out of MP, Topher changed tactics; he cast Unbar Way, Find Traps And Secret Doors, and even tried to use Minor Illusion to map the lattices of force which spanned the archway. Unfortunately, nothing they tried worked; the binding was thorough, pervasive, and incredibly strong, to the point that even illusions couldn't pass through. Topher sighed. "Well, no shame in failing. Let's go check on your dad."

Varissian hesitated, then shook his head. "I will try a few more pass-phrases." Turning his back on Topher, he walked up to the doorway and leaned against the field, murmuring words Topher couldn't hear; he shrugged and walked back to where Kelfir was watching a cataract splash into an underground lake.

"You know, I owe you an apology," he muttered to the Archmage as he sat down beside him. "When we first met, I called you a shit dad; that was wrong. You're an incredibly shit dad."

Kelfir snorted; Topher almost cracked up again at how similar it was to what Varissian had done earlier. "While I cannot contest your assertion, the purpose behind it escapes me."

"You seriously didn't teach Varissian magic?" Topher growled quietly. "Super Archmage Guy, five hundred years in the business, and you can't even be bothered to teach the one mage in the world who has a decent claim on your time? In my word, dads literally go to jail for less."

The elf sighed. "The attempt was made many times, when he was very young. Despite his Unique Skill, he failed to grasp even the most basic and rudimentary concepts of magery in any of our lessons; it was only when I engaged the services of another F-Rank individual that he was able to even begin casting his first spells. After that..." Topher cringed as pain darkened Kelfir's gaze. "I had other duties and concerns."

Topher opened his mouth to mock the assertion, then bit down on his vitriol; Kelfir doesn't deserve more hate, no matter how bad I might want to give it to him. Instead, he thought for a moment, then changed tactics. "Did you know Nori Takenaka?"

Kelfir shook his head. "He perished before I had the chance to make his acquaintance. Why do you ask?"

"Perspective," Topher responded, plucking at his beard absent-mindedly. "Some of the A-Rank and B-Rank kids who were Summoned with me were just handed spellbooks and told to read them; they mastered all the spellcasting for their Classes in a few hours, completely without help. Apparently Takenaka took that to a whole other level; he mastered all the spellcasting there was almost immediately upon being Summoned."

Kelfir nodded tiredly. "I cannot say your tale surprises me; after all, they were all Otherworlders. You are no exception; to reach Level 99 within only a few months would be quite ridiculous for any other mage from my world."

"Actually, I'm Level 127," Topher commented breezily, "but that's not why I brought it up." He leaned closer to Kelfir. "My point is that, to Varissian, you're like those A-Rankers and B-Rankers. This stuff seems trivial and obvious to you, so you assume it should be to him; but it's not. It's like I said before; F-Rankers need help."

"To what purpose?" Kelfir asked despondently. "If he learns as slowly and poorly as you say, he will perish of old age before reaching any noteworthy level of skill. Would it not be better for him to live his life pursuing happiness, rather than failing at a craft which may forever be out of his reach?"

"The purpose," Topher supplied as patiently as he could, "is not for him to become noteworthy, Kelfir. It's for you to spend time with your son." He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes in frustration. "Your remaining son, to use your wording."

Beside him, he heard a sharp intake of breath, but a surprised shout from behind them interrupted whatever Kelfir's response would have been. Turning, he looked back towards Varissian to see if the younger elf was in danger; but what he saw made his jaw drop open.

"It seems," said Varissian awkwardly from the other side of the barrier, "I have somehow been successful."