#and This branch of thoughts comes from the whole 'gods created/shaped mortals using the magic of exandria which is in & of itself connected

[chaosgenasi]

tonight’s cr lore rabbit hole brought to you by the concept of being a paladin or cleric “of people” is kind-of its own worship of the divine by virtue of drawing your power from something the gods created/shaped

[senatushq]

Merlin

NAME/ALIASES. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. Prehistoric & Unknown SPECIES. Aspect GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him or He/They AFFILIATIONS. UTP OCCUPATION. UTP

History

Son of the Seldarine, Merlin was bright and inquisitive. A tinkerer of the soul and the natural world. Born during the rising height of the Seldarine’s empire to Corellon Laurethian and Queen Angharradh, Merlin was tasked with finding resources for their army. Soldiers, or a means of making the common-blooded elf a greater force to be reckoned with. In those early days he didn’t put much thought into right or wrong, Merlin was born into a royal line, one that branched, spread, and distilled into the noble houses. These common-blooded creatures were meak tributaries in the face of the formidable magic he had been born with. Merlin was brighter than the others, Merlin’s grasp on magic was far more formidable; his dear friend Morgana and her nine sisters advised him against muddling but he paid little mind to them. Instead Merlin continued experiments that would later come to be washed away from the annals of history; a great and shameful secret that it was the Seldarine who first perfected the art of creating an aasimar. Many died before your first, perfect child was made, but from there many came into being. Merlin was the first to notice how their design unbalanced nature, the cosmos only had so many stars and one by one they went out as the aasimar were born. 

Like so many others, the aasimar rebelled against their makers and Merlin turned away from their struggle, from the Seldarine, and from the plight of the elves as a whole. He saw the bloodshed and saw the graves, Merlin felt the weight of his crimes and took to his anvil one final time to craft a blade of the purest starlight; then he splintered his forge and left. In the place that would come to be known as the mortal realm, Merlin took stock and found roots in a crystal cave that obscured him from any form of divination. It was here that he was intent to live apart from the Gods and their meddlings, Eden was built and burned but he paid it little mind until the races of man began to fan out. Within the crystal cave Merlin could see all, he studied the creatures of the world and learned to meld his shape into those without magical blood, turning into them as he practised his sage arts. Mortals were the children of another’s design, creatures that had been built and used just as Merlin’s aasimar had so many years before. So often power had been taken by those who did not deserve it, atrocious individuals ruled over the lessers, and so Merlin looked instead for those with the purest of hearts. Warriors he’d raise into heroes, people he’d beckon to like a new shape; Camelot saw the rise of one such King, Arthur. A hero of commoners, purehearted, good and kind. A blade forged of the purest Grace, Merlin bestowed it upon the mortal and when Arthur faded into legend he laid it back into the Astral Sea until he needed to call upon it once more. 

Connections

Morgana: Morgana helped Merlin with the beginnings of his research and the nature of his sage magic, she cautioned him against the creation of the aasimar but remained his friend after his mistakes.

Arthur: Chosen champion, Merlin selected the mortal King to face a tide of darkness and gifted him with excalibur, returning it to the Astral upon Arthur's demise.

Heimdall: Watcher of the ways, Heimdall observed Merlin's actions but did nothing to stop him.

Abilities

Enhanced: Possessed with an enhanced intelligence that is superior to his companions, Merlin can use this to a variety of applications.

Sage: Master of sage arts, Merlin can take in energy from the natural world to alter his physiology, the physiology of others, or control the elements to limited effects.

Reading: Though the application of his sage magic Merlin can read the soul's of others and discern their truest nature.

Immortal: Ageless, Merlin is resistant to most forms of magic.

Weaknesses

Elven: Merlin is incapable of telling any lies and when pierced by iron it will burn him and disrupt his magic.

Binding: Capable of being bound, a coven of witches or troupe of elves or druids can bind his magic and prevent him from casting.

Seraph: A seraph blade through her heart will disrupt his magic and kill him. For walking away from the Seldarine and abandoning his post, Merlin will not go to Uthenera if killed.

THIS SKELETON IS CURRENTLY CLOSED.

[ivendarea]

Magic in Ivendarea

Magic is power - this is a simple truth known not just in but far beyond the borders of Ivendarea. Magic has the potential to create and to destroy, to significantly alter something as tiny as enchanting a ring or shaking the world in its foundations as a whole forever. Not evenly spread amongst most nations’ populations, an individual has to be born with an inclination to it to truly master the magic arts, although with much dedication, time, and efforts, even those born without an inherent magical talent can potentially unlock some of its secrets.

Ivendarea’s magic is unique and curious in the way it affects the peninsula’s weather patterns, climate, resources, and also the creatures and people living there. All Nyr are born with a talent for magic, which is an unusually high percentage of mages per capita for a singular country. While not everyone dedicates their life to mastering their abilities, unlocking their full potential, an above average percentage of Ivendarean Nyr are powerful mages.

Table of Contents:

The Nature of Magic

Essences

Aether

Schools of Magic

Magic and Religion

“Learning Magic” as a Non-Mage

Continue reading below or on World Anvil

[Support the Ivendarea Project on Patreon]

The Nature of Magic While great efforts have been undertaken to truly understand what exactly magic as such even is, it is to this day not only an enigmatic field of study, some scholars have even come to the conclusion that certain aspects of magic might not be to explain by mortal beings at all - or at least not yet at this point in time. While some are driven by its mysteries and workings, the study of the nature of magic has lost some of its former glory and has become more of a niche science, sometimes even called a pseudo-science.

According to its critics it is mostly undertaken out of a drive of naive curiosity and stubbornness, by egoists longing for fame to be the ones to have “understood” the nature magic without really furthering more practical approaches of its powers. Those studying the origins, the fabric of magic though, no matter how frustratingly hard it is to gain solid results and revelations beyond what is already known, believe it to be the last true mystery left in this world that could be the key to solving many other questions unanswered as of yet. Scholars devoted to the study of the nature of magic for example wonder if there might be an underlying pattern to rebirths after all, a theory that has been rebuked but some still hold on to. The workings of the plane of the Silent Waters and the gods residing there are also full of mystery still, despite Aman’s best efforts to find answers during their lifetime.

Essences The most important facts to know about magic that have been scientifically examined and proven, are that magic manifests in two different forms: essences, and aether. Essences are strong concentrations of magic that can be found in many places. Certain inanimate “dead” materials, such as Starglass, are one possible location. Those materials are therefore described to be “magically potent”. Particularly old and slowly changing materials such as stone, minerals, and raw metals are capable of holding very high and strong concentrations of naturally occurring magical essences that have specific and unique properties. Starglass as an example is known to glow when it comes into contact with water, making it useful as a light source, piece of extravagant jewellery, or building material.

There are many different types of essences. Some have healing properties, others defy gravity, and there is a big variety of those with elemental powers such as heat or cold stored within them. All these magical essences found in the bones of the earth have simple and often practical purposes, but they are sheer impossible to extract, fused with the material they are found in - and lost forever if the material is destroyed.

Magical plants, such as Riverroot, are much more rarely found, but as living, inanimate creatures, they can have much stronger magical essences that are very sought-after not only by alchemists. As opposed to minerals and stone, the essences of plants can be extracted in complicated alchemical processes that should always be overlooked by a trained alchemist. Splitting the essences from their “vessel” can cause many negative and undesirable side-effects from accidental poisoning to explosions.

Lastly, individuals and animals possessing the ability to perform magic, have magical essences within them. It is not only the source they draw their inherent power from, it also connects them to the magical flow of aether they can draw strength from. The magical essences within living beings with a soul have long been believed to be a subtype of those found in materials, but meanwhile it is known that they are a third group standing alone. They can’t be taken away or “extracted”, and after the person’s death it is unclear what happens to their essence - but it is not considered lost in the way essence is lost when a material possessing it is destroyed. Some scholars claim that the remaining power of the essences allows the soul to travel to the Silent Waters, others think that it might be lost after all or absorbed into the aether - none of these claims have been proven without a doubt yet though.

Aether Aether, as opposed to magical essences that can be extracted or used as a source of power, is a lot less tangible. It merely describes an invisible flow of magic, seemingly without distinct pattern or direction. It can be sensed by mages, and power can be drawn from it in the same way it can from specific essences, but it is a much more generalized power that has no distinct purpose (e.g. healing, destruction, alteration, etc.). It has to be given its purpose by the mage making use of it.

What has been witnessed by scholars as well as regular mages, is that the strength of the flow of Aether can vary. The stronger or more concentrated the flow is in a region, the more powerful spells can be cast - simultaneously it is also much more likely that the Aether reacts with naturally occurring essences, causing unpredictable magical phenomena. These are very rare, but can include more harmless effects like optical illusions up to very severe or even destructive occurrences of gravity being nullified or tears in the space-time continuum. The latter, so far, is only a scientific theory that hasn’t thankfully been documented in the wild yet.

Schools of Magic While some scholars reject the division of magic into different schools, as it is, in their eyes, limiting possibilities, it has become common practise particularly at the Academy of Saratheas and other educational establishments. Dividing magical abilities into different areas and skill-sets allows a more directed training and learning, and allows young students or scholars to aspire to become masters of their chosen field of magic. The general recommendation though is to branch out and not focus only one or two specialties, as magic in nature overlaps in many areas.

For those born without a magical talent only learning how to acquire it through lengthy processes it can be easier to find their way into magic by only following the school that feels most “natural” to them initially, before branching out later in life. Since all Nyr without exception are born with magical powers the voices against the creation of schools of magic usually come particularly from the rows of isolationists not willing to share their knowledge and secrets with the Aapha, Assadin, and other known peoples without an inherent talent for magic. The schools known and taught most commonly across Ivendarea are the following:

Aetheral Magic: Arguably one of the hardest to master, aetheral magic encompasses techniques such as teleportation, soul-travel, and the study of the flow of magic

Alchemy: The study of magical essences and its purposes includes the creation of potent potions and sometimes poisons; contrary to popular belief one has to be a mage to properly conduct alchemy, as the purest forms of magical essences that are being handled need to be kept under control by the alchemist to not cause harm; only a trained mage can also determine whether or not a specific material even contains magical essences that can be worked with.

Alteration: The change of a material’s properties or of one’s own appearance, shapeshifting, becoming invisible and breathing underwater, healing wounds - only changing the past is off limits; it was one of Aman’s favoured schools

Creation: Overlapping in certain areas with Alchemy and Alteration, Creation magic manages to shape the world or even create something seemingly out of thin air; the Canthoreas under the streets of Saratheas, as well as Saratheas itself, were built with the help of powerful Creationists out of the sheer rock of the Skyreach Mountains. Enchanting weapons, items, and jewellery also falls under Creation magic, and creationists are sometimes colloquially referred to as “craftsmen mages”

Mind: At times forbidden entirely and still highly controversial, the magic of the Mind follows Aetheral magic in difficulty to master; reading someone else’s thoughts and intentions, manipulating or even controlling other individuals against their will, it is a feared power but also an important tool of the Avon Julanor; its more positive approaches though, such as the healing of spiritual wounds, solving blockades, and soothing troubled souls are more widely taught and accepted

Primal: Probably the most destructive of the schools and overlapping with Creation magic in certain aspects, elemental magic focuses on the control and creation of fire, water, storms, plants, in fact the powers of nature itself

Prophecy: The least accurate of magical arts, Prophecy deals with the things long gone or in a far distant future: many religious rituals fall under this category, as prophecy forms a two-way-connection between past and present, but also teaches divination and meditation techniques; it is sometimes considered a more approachable and accepted sub-form of Mind magic

Since many of the schools overlap there are occasionally quarrels about which techniques belong to which school, what should or shouldn’t be taught by certain scholars, and so on. There are also very controversial techniques such as mind-reading that are actually kept under close guard and are forbidden to be taught at most institutions, as they mark a violation of an individual’s right to their free will and can cause severe damage to a soul if handled improperly.

Magic and Religion Magic very often has a connection to many world religions, of course including the teachings of the Aman’a Valeethi. Magical rituals from healing to conserving memories or preparing a body for burial are inherent to religious duties carried out by priests. It is also a major part of the Nyr’s creation myth. They believe that only with the help of magic it was possible for the gods to shape this world in the endless void of nothingness that existed before. The magical essences and aether found throughout the world are remains of the magic of the gods, leftover from the creation of the world.

Learning Magic as a Non-Mage As mentioned before, it is possible for individuals born without magical essences within them to acquire magical powers. It is not without risk, and also not guaranteed to work every time. The individual willing to become a mage will undergo long periods of meditation and together with one or several mages as their mentor(s) actually create some sort of “depot” or source of magical essences within them. This can be achieved through long-term exposure to highly concentrated magical essences, for example by wearing heavily, specifically for this purpose created and enchanted jewellery or actually embedding essences under the individual’s skin. This is a common practise with the Avon Julanor even though of course all their members are by default mages. Their magical, ritualistic markings across their bodies enhance their abilities dramatically.

Through a lengthy process an artificially created depot of essences will lead to an accumulation of magical essences within the individual’s body just by them being in contact with the outside, natural, inherently magical world and its flow of aether. Their mentor usually actively directs the aether at their protégé in a way to accumulate in the artificial essence depots, making sure that no undesired reactions result. Over time the mage-in-progress will gain a connection to the aether and within their body a natural source of magical essences can form, as the essences found in beings carrying souls have an inherent connection to the aether. The end goal is that the essences naturally accumulated in the individual’s body will be enough for them to further develop their powers.

This doesn’t work every time though, and also not reliably. It can happen that individuals lose their powers again if they acquired them artificially, and would be required to wear the special jewellery - consisting of a band around the head, bracelets around wrists and ankles, and a harness worn around the chest - for the rest of their lives. There are also the aforementioned risks where people have developed tumours or other physical ailments such as losing their eye-sight or hearing due to the heavy exposure to magical essences. In a few cases people also died, usually due to negligence of their mentor or wanting too much, too fast, overestimating their tolerance to the flow of the aether and its synergy with the essences, in the result dying very violently in magical explosions.

[lokiofnone]

The people of Broxton, Oklahoma were not unlike the Northmen of the Viking Age - as unlikely as the comparison seemed. Certainly the location and climate were different, as well as the culture and the language, but for gods of Asgard, everything is a repeating pattern. And Loki had become rather adept at seeing those patterns.

Sitting atop one of Bilskirnir’s many ledges, the god of mischief swung their legs idly back and forth. It was a long way down - Bilskirnir is very tall - but what did they have to fear from something as simple as gravity? They sipped at a milkshake while surveying the blighted lands below. The homes and businesses of Broxton, once a small but bustling town and now only a series of blasted out buildings and enormous sinkholes. Lit by the Bifrost and the eternal branches of Yggdrasil, it reminded them of the ruins of old Asgard, deep in space. The main difference being that here, there was still life.

Indeed, dotted among the desolate streets were a few buildings - newly built or newly repaired - that showed signs of recovery. And why shouldn’t there be? It had been years, after all, and these people were not the type to simply flee elsewhere. Though for the most part they still gathered near the base of Bilskirnir. It was easier to stay close to each other, they supposed.

Of course, that wasn’t all they could see. Sprinkled throughout the landscape on streets both dead and alive, there was the glowing red light of ROXXON.

Lost in thought, Loki nearly missed the sound of a window opening above their shoulder. Nearly, but not quite.

“Ma says it’s dangerous to sit on the edge.”

Loki turned to see a small girl with wild hair and a smear of freckles across her nose. “Well, do me a favor and don’t tell her I’m here.”

The girl wrinkled her nose and eyed them up and down. “You an Asgardian?”

“Kind of.”

“Why are you drinking a milkshake in the snow?”

“I don’t get cold very easily.”

“Because you’re an Asgardian?”

“...kind of.”

She seemed pleased with that answer and disappeared from the window, returning moments later with a large sweater and a hat.

“Do you live here?” Loki asked.

“Yep!” The girl crossed her arms over the window sill. “Me and my ma and pa and a whole bunch of other people. Pa says we got to, since we don’t got houses no more. But it’s okay cuz this castle is sooooo big and has tons of weird stuff in it. Me and my friends go exploring but we haven’t even found half the stuff yet, I bet.”

“I imagine not. You know, this used to be my brother’s castle.”

She frowned, eyebrows drawing together in thought. “But somebody told me this was Thor’s castle.”

“The very same,” Loki answered with a nod.

Realization dawned across her face, “Oh! Thor’s your brother? That’s so cool! My friend Dorothy has a brother, but she says he’s annoying and steals her stuff.”

“Thor is my older brother, but not the oldest. We have six other brothers and sisters, if you can believe it.”

“That’s...too many. But um,” The girl tapped her fingers, seeming to be deciding how to ask something. “How come Thor gave us his castle?”

Loki looked back out over the scene below. “Do you know what happened here?”

“Ma says I was too little to understand.”

“Well, little one, I’ll tell you. But only if you promise not to get scared.”

“I’m not little.” She said while wiping her nose with her sleeve. “And why would I get scared?”

“You know how Thor is called the god of thunder because he can make lightning and storms?” Loki waited for her to nod before gesturing to themself, “Well, I am called the god of stories. When I tell a story, it comes to life in more than just your imagination. But don’t worry - I promise it won’t hurt you.”

“Now this I’ve gotta see.” She wiped at her nose again.

Loki smiled widely. “That’s the right attitude. Let’s begin at the beginning.”

The air around them suddenly began to dim, as if night were falling, followed by the winking of stars and nebulae and distant planets - and in the middle, superimposed over the latest iteration of Asgardia floating on the far side of town, was Asgard of old.

“A long time ago, Asgard floated not above Earth, but through space. It was a golden city among the stars, tethered only by the singular rainbow bridge, but connected to all realms on the world ash. It was filled with all manner of gods great and small, and it flourished. A shining beacon of magic in the starry sky.” Loki looked over to find their audience enraptured by the swirling imagery. “But nothing can stay the same forever. People grow up. They come and go. And the gods must change, also.”

Slowly, the image of old Asgard began to darken. The buildings crumbled and smoke curled up into the sky. “Exactly what happened isn’t important to this tale, but I will tell you that it wasn’t supposed to be the end. Not the real end. Through some other machinations, Asgard was laid low for good. We gods were scattered across the cosmos, and ceased to be.” The images swirled, faded, and settled onto the ground, showing the town as it once was. “At least, until Thor came here. He created a new Asgard out of the very soil, and collected us from where we were hiding. And for a time, Asgard and Broxton were one.”

The Bifrost spread from the visage of Asgard to the flourishing town below, looking for all the world like Loki remembered it. Then the scene darkened again. Loki stood from the ledge and walked out into the thin air, giving their young audience a start.

“Enter a man named Dario Agger.”

Agger faded in from the blackness, sitting at the head of a long table. Loki took a few meandering steps around him.

“Agger is the head of a company called ROXXON. He plies a trade in oil, mainly, as well as a great deal of other evil things. His company poisons the Earth, and he becomes rich.” The image of Agger tossed a stack of bills into the air, which fluttered around them before disappearing. “Now, Thor...he didn’t care much for that.”

The boardroom swirled into clouds, with Thor at the center, hammer raised.

“Thor loves the Earth. Well and truly. And he loves all the humans on it. He always has, and always will, and it will always be his downfall.” The image of Thor swung his hammer, lightning arcing off of it. Suddenly the clouds began to pour rain on Loki’s head, but they continued as if this were perfectly normal. “Thor did the only thing that he knew how to do: he attacked. He destroyed several ROXXON facilities, ending the stream of foul pollutants from their mouths, and costing the company an impossible amount of money. He believed that this was the first step on the road to saving the Earth from people like Agger, who would destroy it for their own profit. Shortly after this, he left on a trip with the Avengers. Unfortunately, this was all terribly short-sighted of him.”

The apparition of Thor swung his hammer and took off into the sky before the clouds parted, revealing the image of the once intact Broxton once more. No sooner did the rain stop than Loki was suddenly dry again. They took a few slow steps, leaving shimmering green bootprints in the air behind them.

“Thor is indeed mighty, but not all things can be solved with brute force. In the other realms, perhaps, but things work differently here. Humans are more civilized. If you hit a human, he might have you arrested. If you harass a human, he can sue you. And if you destroy a billionaire’s factories, he may take vengeance in ways only he knows how.”

A thick smog wafted in from the south, curling into the shapes of looming buildings and smoke stacks belching their toxic fumes into the air. “Agger received permission from your government to park his remaining factories here. Floating islands - a grim mockery to the nearby Asgard. While Thor was away, he polluted your air and water, bought your land, and demolished your buildings to put up his own. My brother returned to find people destitute with no work and an atmosphere so toxic that the sick and elderly were forced to go elsewhere. Even this was not enough to sate Agger’s greed. For he knew well that Thor loved Broxton, and he intended to make Thor suffer. He cared not for the thousands of lives that he used to accomplish this, only that it was done. He used the human magic called a restraining order. Thor was not to come near any property or employee of ROXXON, including Broxton. Then he hired trolls to dig under the town, creating these holes.” The ground fell away from Loki’s illusion, revealing the enormous sinkholes.

Loki disappeared, only to reappear back in their original spot on the ledge. In the distance, Asgard shone ever brighter through the smog. “And what did the other gods do? Did they rush to aid their mortal neighbors, who had done so for them whenever and however they could? Of course not. One and all, they sat in their towers, and watched it happen. How cruel. How absolutely humiliating, that a handful of humans, each with barely more than they needed, should show such hospitality, should give as much as they were able to help we the immortals of Asgard, and that none should lift a finger in their defense save for Thor himself.”

“What did you do?” Piped in the small voice from the window.

Loki pursed their lips. “I was elsewhere. A truth that I sorely regret, but I did not hear about any of this until after the fact.”

They waved a hand, and the illusion disappeared.

“Finally, Thor had enough. There was a battle that destroyed whatever remained, and Asgard decided that very day to return to the stars. They stayed only long enough to pick up the rubble. And now they find themselves laid low once again and crawl to this doorstep, only to be greeted with open arms. We gods could learn some things from you people of Broxton.”

“Wow…” The girl at the window stared outward, still deciding what to think of all this. “You weren’t pulling my leg about that story stuff. Thanks! I’m gonna go see if dinner’s ready. Do you wanna come in and eat? I bet ma will make a plate for you!”

Loki smiled. “Perhaps another time. I have some business to attend.”

“Okay! See you later!” And with that, the window snapped shut.

There was a long silence as Loki drained the remainder of their milkshake. Then, after moments of contemplation, they summoned a small notepad. They flipped a few pages before reaching the latest one, bearing a list of names and other assorted information.

To be specific, it was a list of the ROXXON board of directors. Name, location, salient details, and of course: weaknesses.

Loki had spent a few long days learning about these men and how best to manipulate them. It wasn’t often they put this much effort into a plot, but this was no ordinary mark. Thor had failed because he blundered into everything with little thought, while this matter required a gentler hand and a great deal of subtlety.

After the War of the Realms came to New York, Dario Agger had spent some time imprisoned in the Raft. But like all men with money, he would not remain so for long, and had by now regained his status with little loss. That simply would not do.

Agger began all this to get revenge on Thor. He hadn’t considered what other enemies he may have made in the process, which was perhaps his largest oversight. He may have fared well against Thor, but he would soon learn not to underestimate the god of mischief.

[themidgardlibrary]

I had a cool dream

Humans had long since fucked up and been forced to go to the stars to survive. But what they found over generations was that they weren't the only ones. Countless species were scattered across the universe, having made their original worlds inhospitable to their own lives. Many had branched off into species different from the original species that left their planet. This gave the statistically small number of humans that saw this hope - seeing that there were two species half way across the milkyway, one of which had evolved to breathe under water, and another had evolved flight, both coming from the same root species so very long ago, gave them hope that maybe they'd not fucked up as badly as it seemed.

And humans, oh humans would settle anywhere, groups of them branching off in their journeys to find places that worked for them specifically. This wasn't unique in the universe by any means - a species of being that were made of light and crystal and generated their own gravity/antigravity fields were just as bad at not settling down on every planet and moon and asteroid that caught their fancy. But the thing about this is that humans as a species saw more of the universe than average, and more species, but statistically the numbers of them that knowingly met specific species again and again were quite few. Mostly because the species had split so many times it was impossible to be in communication with the rest of humanity, so humanity as a 'whole' would discover the same species dozens of times, but the knowledge of someone on the other side of another galaxy wouldn't always be known, you know?

Mind you a lot of things were easier than in a lot of scifi, because, lo and behold: They had discovered magic at some point. It wasn't a snap, suddenly all of humanity knows situation like a meme, but it would often, just branch out over and over and over - not always connected - like some wave of information, like the universe itself had decided 'okay you're ready to know this now'. Traveling faster than light isn't terribly hard when you can bend the rules of light, after all. And the magic was eventually seen as a science, but it was magic: It had internal consistency, but it was the practice of bending if not outright ignoring the rules of the universe. Magic and the laws of the universe seemed at odds, incapable of coexisting at every level, but they did.

Now, here comes the narrative of the dream, now that I have the majority of the background out if the way, the delicious, delicious background. Sometimes humanity didn't just travel on space ships. Magic let them travel on planets, some of them being planets they created. And it was genuinely a human that saw magic, looked at how it worked, how you could create matter from a comparatively tiny amount of energy (the scientists who were studying entropy threw their arms up because god damn it,  this fucks up all their god damn calculations and UGH) and went 'FUCK YEAH I'M BUILDING A PLANET???' Not that this was a unique idea in the universe, just that a human was the first to pull it off, because one thing that was uncommon about humans was their inability to say 'hmm, maybe this is outside of my capabilities?', because let's be real they didn't really take to heart all the lessons they should have from destroying their planet for themselves. Other species kind of despair when they hear about the shit humanity does because god okay using magic is fine and all but some of this shit is just crazy!!! (There are people out there - not just humans now that planets have been created - that are working to create stars from magic. Once again making scientists in other fields weep because it puts to the bin so much of their work)

Humans, naturally, weren't fine with just making planets. They made planets they could move throughout space like it was a ship.

The dream focused on one specific group of humans who started with a ship, then made a dwarf planet, and then made that into a planet. They didn't do it for themselves though. They did it for a bunch of species they ran into that had either fucked up their planet, or were on planets that were naturally fucked up, and they just went 'puts arms around Protecc' to the species on those planets, made their own planet bigger, and just added those species to their planet and moved on.

Also I understand that maybe planet isn't the best word for this, but there is no better word I can think of.

So anyway, the bulk of the dream happened with a planet that was like 95% surface area water. It was a small planet, and only one side of it was inhabited. The primary species (honestly, one of like, 3 surviving species in the entire planet - it had been THAT fucked up in the past) was a group of aquatic beings who were kinda like mer people (manta ray and shark bodyforms were the most common) just without the direct human resemblance. They were down to, quite frankly genetic bottleneck numbers and only existed in two spots on the planet. The humans were all 'here let us help you out' because they didn't realise WHY the planet was so fucked. Turns out there was a black hole on the uninhabited side of the planet, but it was stasisted with exceedingly strong magic that poisoned the water on that side of the planet. It turned out that the planet itself was sapient, and that it was supposed to die a HELL of a long time ago, but it had a bustling population that had no idea it was basically imploding, so it did what it could to keep them safe. But it couldn't hold off for more than another thousand years, and that poison was spreading and gravity was fucked up.

Humans found this out and were all 'yo shit we'll help'. And like, they formed even closer relationships with their fishy friends, and then found out that their species? Didn't die like humans. A large amount of their species never made their full natural lifespan (like 200 years) and didn't die from mortal injuries or their bodies wearing out. They would sink to the bottom of the waters and calcify, but their consciousness could be reached again for upwards of a hundred years EASILY if they hadn't died of wounds or body failure - it was just not really socially acceptable to do this because usually the people who 'died' wanted to die. Basically the species had pretty fucking serious depression. So a bunch of humans started finding the calcified remains and talking to the people they could reach, and brought back a bunch of the species. They also found out that there was one EXTREMELY long lived member of their species. So the humans eventually found that member and GOD was tht person GORGEOUS. Had a modern day human seen them they'd have thought they met an aquatic angel, lack of human features not mattering. Turns out that member of the species could basically change the genetics of any single member of the species one at a time. So, they moved everyone to their planet, got this one person to deal with the genetic bottleneck, and introduced their fishy friends to mental health.

(Mind you it's not that the aquatic species didn't have their own version of mental healthcare, it was just prefaced more on accepting 'death' than our own was, and the idea that those who were meant to recover would after some calcification time.)

Anyway. It was a fun dream.

Further information that was passed between a friend and I:

Friend: (Also, are the crystal/light beings in the background section gems? XD) Me: (Actually, no! They're more like 'clouds of crystals that give off their own light' than anything even vaguely human shaped.) Friend: That's even cooler! :D Me: Right??? They reproduced asexually by splitting themselves in half. They lacked genetics, but had diversity in their numbers because they formed new crystals over their lives and the crystals were formed based on their locations!  :D

Friend: I want to explore the universe with them! Me: Honestly it would be a blast to do so. I figure they communicate in non-verbal languages among themselves, but they can make voices the same way one might make music using crystal glasses/cups! So they have these crystaline reverberating voices they use to communicate to humans and other highly verbal species. So you could talk to them and they could talk back!

[yaldev]

Meeting with the Oracle

(GUEST ARTIST: @FurnaceIncarnate on Instagram!)

A five-day trip for a five-minute chat. Done for anyone else it would be madness, but for the Oracle, it’s preparedness.

It was a stroke of good luck that the urge to take action coincided with the passing trade caravan. With strong enough defense that bandits dare not strike, the journey has turned out boringly uneventful. I branched off from the merchants’ path, leaving me to face the cave alone, the home of a local legend I’ve come to speak with about the nature of the universe. In older times I’d be one among many, but her audience has dwindled since the days of old.

Different tales offer different truths. Old accounts say she looks no older than forty years, yet bears the experience of forty generations and the wisdom of four hundred. The locals say her visions were once lies from evil spirits disguising themselves as illegal gods, but once she saw the truth of Parc Pelbee’s supremacy, she accepted only his blessings and spoke only truth from that day forth.

When the merchants asked what a teen boy like me was doing on this voyage if not seeking work or trade, I answered honestly, and was met with all manner of scrutiny. One warned that the Oracle’s visions still come from deceitful spirits, and will always be false. Another called her a fraud entirely, saying her claims to seeing anything at all are fake. I pray that they are wrong, for only divine wisdom can settle this unease, and my prayers for clarity have only been met with more smoke.

I step through the stone maw and progress up the ground’s slight incline. Floating mold spores tickle my nostrils, prompting a loud sneeze. Triggered by the sound of a human voice, an eerie light begins to glow from deeper in the tunnel, just as the old records mentioned. Where the beacon once lit itself for fanfare and worship in the Oracle’s name, now it responds for sniffles. As I approach the passage’s end I keep my head bowed as a sign of respect, watching the strange mists which cover my feet and flow around my calves. They progress like a river toward the mouth, dissipating upon reaching the sunlight that feels so far behind.

“No need to bow, child.”

I turn my gaze up, seeing that I’ve inadvertently entered her chamber. The cavernous hall opens into her spherical abode, illuminated by light emitting from a crack in the earth. Mist rises too from this narrow crevice, descending to the floor and adding to the gaseous river only after floating up for a moment, creating an obscuring cloud through which I can barely make out a human form. I would bow if only she’d just told me not to.

“Step forward, come around. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Really? For how long?”

“Twenty-one years? Maybe two?”

My eyes widen, yet still I can’t perceive her through the cloud. She can discern me perfectly. Her eye has long become used to finding meaning in patterns seen through the mist. As I step around the fissure I see her more clearly, resting upon a throne with eyes gazing past my flesh and into my heart. All at once I believe her claim to precognition, not by her eyes but by the mind that shines through them. It’s like I can feel her knowledge projected into my mind, sending me false memories of old gods’ faces, of ancient tribes who rose and fell, of armies of pilgrims who once came to beg for her wisdom. No ruler, but a servant.

“What’s your name, child?” She asks, surely knowing already. I muster up the most dignified tone I can.

“Decadin.”

“Deh-Cah-Din? I like that name. Do you know what it means?”

“No..?”

“It’s from the old faiths. But you’re a Pelbeean, aren’t you?”

“Er, should I be?”

“That depends on who you ask.”

The righteous knights who barged in one day said that yes, following the Empirical Truth is a good thing, and refusal will be met with a sword through the Oracle’s neck. Followers of old gods said no, and called her a traitor for feigning a speech about Parc Pelbee’s omnipotent benevolence to save her own life.

“But I won’t ruin your name for you. What do you want to know?”

I stand now where people of great renown did throughout history. Chieftains pleading to know how their sons could be cured of plague, shamans asking when the next rain would come, warlords demanding to know the fate of the battle beginning at sunrise. Here I am, and I have the audacity to place myself among their ranks and ask:

“How do I handle my life?”

She tilts her head slightly. None of her long hair is free to sway, concealed beneath a cloth hood. I continue.

“Grandmother’s sick, I’m off to the capital in a week for school, I’ll have to stay on top of it and I feel like I can only handle so much. Like I’m one unseen disaster away from everything falling apart! Why is my life so chaotic? How can I handle it? How could anyone? It’s hard to believe Parc Pelbee is guiding me, I would have a path by now.”

A silence hangs for a moment. A grin spreads across the Oracle’s face.

“It sounds like you’re afraid of risk. And yet you came from so far. Surely you’re more brave than you make yourself out to be.”

“I guess.”

“So why risk this journey to see me when so much could have gone wrong?”

My answer comes only after thinking for a moment.

“Because the stories say you’re an agent of Pelbee, and I trust in him.”

Her eyes narrow as she softly chuckles. Most Pelbeeans think that even if her prognostic powers come from their god, her methods are too naturalistic and rooted in outside traditions. But the young ones have a certain curiosity that betrays this religious narrative, a mind for seeking out spiritual answers themselves that so rarely lives on into adulthood.

“Well, young Pelbeean, have you considered that all of this is as Pelbee designed it?”

I look at her askew, ready for some speech about how Parc Pelbee created a flawed world.

“Have you considered that chaos is part of the universal order?”

“What? How?”

“Well, if magic comes from chaos, and Parc Pelbee used powers that sound very magical to shape the world, can’t it be said that chaos was used to create order?”

Heresy!

“I-... I know it’s not that simple!”

Worse, heresy that I’m not enough of an expert to refute.

“Of course not, child. Everything is complex and layered, as you say. It can seem chaotic when you can’t figure out how it all works.”

“Can anyone? Can you?”

“Some have said that my life’s work is discerning order through the realm of chaos, Decadin. But would you like to know a secret?”

“Of course.”

“There is no chaos. I see order because order is all that is. Chaos is only an illusion which comes from being unable to understand the many factors at play. It appears causeless because you cannot see all the causes.”

She steps off her throne and extends her hand into the cloud pouring up from the crevice, grasping an orb of magic made misty material in a closed fist. With an outstretched finger she traces circles in the air in front of my face, and my eye follows the trail of mana it leaves behind.

“The world, you see, is a machine of many spinning cogs. Some so big you could spend years studying them, some so small that no mortal could notice them. No cog turns without reason, you just can’t see the others which move it. That which looks random comes merely from causes unseen.”

She finishes dramatically by opening her palm, letting the energy dissipate. I feel as though I’ve been snapped from a trance. Critical thought returns.

“But there is the Aether. The holy book tells us it is the source of chaos.”

“And yet even in the Aether, there is consistency. The mage who conjures fire repeats the same actions and finds the same result. Patterns are there.”

“In the place of chaos?” I ask. It’s all so much to take in.

“Do you think the Aether doesn’t have rules? It is a machine like any other. I know well that some cogs are invisible, some strangely shaped, some changing directions by a will of their own. But it becomes more coherent if you look at the machine as a whole, and how these odd parts come together and form certain rules.”

“Can it be controlled?”

“Isn’t that what magic is?”

“Right…”

It’s all so strange. It’s like she’s saying things about Pelbee’s creation that make more sense than what Pelbee himself said.

“You can master your life the same way, if you find which cogs you can control and what it’ll do if you mess with them. But I don’t think you came here to hear this, you probably wanted to know your future.”

“I mean, it’d be kinda nice, but I thought it’d be rude to ask.”

She laughs heartily. “Ah, come and breathe in some smoke.”

“That smoke?”

“Yes, it comes from a mana deposit down there. You must take it in, then I must breathe your breath to see your future.”

“It comes from mana. It’ll hurt me.”

“It’s what’s kept me alive all this time, child. Trust.”

Pressure from authority gets the better of me. I dip my face into the mist and let the universe into my lungs, feeling its heretical power eroding my throat. Swirling colors appear in my peripheral vision, drifting toward the center to crowd out reality.

“Now face me. Breathe out.”

All too happy to oblige, I turn to her and force the smoke from my lungs. It sinks through the air until it settles in her cupped hands, which she brings to her face.

“Show me.” She whispers to the dense mist, her breath sending ripples across its surface. She tilts her hands and drinks of the future, letting the mental image of Deft guide her visions. Each word spoken releases some of the gas.

“I see…”

I watch it spill down her chin to the floor below, joining the river.

“I see you using magic.”

“Magic? Me?

“Yes… I see cans, full and empty. I see piles of paper, scribbled and scrawled. I see crystal and metal. I see power coming just in time.”

I smile excitedly. It’s gibberish, but I feel like it makes sense in a way I can’t describe.

“I see brilliance. I see recognition. I see a great lined disk floating in the sky. So magical, and yet, not. A wall held up by what it walls. And through its portal, I see…”

I hold my breath in anticipation. She releases the rest of hers in a sigh of awe. Her eyes open as she speaks.

“A new age.”

She smiles down at me, seemingly with a new excitement.

“Yes, child! You will sort things out!”

“That’s such a relief, I can’t thank you en-”

“You will be renowned throughout the land! You’ll do things so grand that great men long after will call you their inspiration!”

That sounds a little too good to be true. Maybe she is a fraud.

“I guess I can’t ask for more details?”

“That might make you do things differently.”

Yeah, probably a fraud. Maybe she lost her powers a long time ago.

“Well, thank you. I should probably get out of here now, leave you to your important business.”

She returns to that business: sitting upon her throne.

“You have a long journey home. Do not be late, your mother will worry.”

Despite the instinct to linger, it’s easy to leave. It feels like the river pulls my feet toward the exit. As I tread down the slope, I can hear her voice in the wind:

“You will change the world, Decadin.”

Yaldev is a fantasy/sci-fi worldbuilding project based on Beeple art. It is the story of a world in magical pandemonium, of the nation which rose to conquer it, of this empire’s inevitable collapse, and of the new world which emerged in its wake. The project has major themes about perspective, imperialism, nationalism, nature and the metaphysical battle of law against chaos. For all stories in order, check out the pinned post on the subreddit at r/Yaldev, or this album on the Facebook page!

[tipsycad147]

The Runes 2

BERKANA (Beorc/Berkano) : birch Phonetic equivalent: B

DIVINATORY MEANINGS:

Fertility, health, new beginnings, growth, conception, plenty, clearance

MAGICAL USES:

Healing (especially infections), achieving conception, making a fresh start

ASSOCIATED MYTHS & DEITIES:

Frigg Idunna

ANALYSIS:

The birch is fundamentally a symbol of fertility. There are numerous instances in European folk tradition where birch twigs are used to bring prosperity and encourage conception. They were fixed above a sweetheart's door on May Day in Cheshire, England, and were placed in stables and houses to promote fertility. On the continent, young men, women and cattle were struck with birch twigs for this same purpose, and young boys would be sent out to "beat the bounds of the parish" with branches of birch to ensure prosperity in the coming year. Witches were said to ride broomsticks made from birch, an image which probably originated with fertility rituals where dancers would 'ride' brooms through the fields, the height of their jumping indicating how high the grain should grow.

If teiwaz is the fundamental male mystery, then berkana certainly belongs to the women, for it represents the path of the mother, the healer and the midwife, bringing new life after death just as the birch puts out the first leaves after winter. While Tyr's wound is acquired through his encounter with death, berkana's wound is that of menstruation, and her ordeal is that of childbirth. The birch is abundant and all providing, and heals through nourishment, cleansing and empathy.

  EHWAZ (Eoh) : horse Phonetic equivalent: E (as in 'egg')

DIVINATORY MEANINGS:

Transportation, motion, assistance, energy, power, communication, will, recklessness

MAGICAL USES:

Power, aiding in communication, transportation; to 'send' a spell

ASSOCIATED MYTHS & DEITIES:

Sleipnir, Freya's feathered cloak

ANALYSIS:

The horse has been a powerful symbol in nearly every culture and every age. They were often believed to draw the sun about the heavens. Strong, swift and loyal, their relationship with humankind is unique. They allow us to perform tasks that would normally be beyond our strength, and to travel distances that would normally be beyond our reach. The mare symbolises fertility and fecundity, and the stallion is the epitome of virility and raw energy. It is an animal that never lost its power by being domesticated.

Like the sun which is its counterpart, ehwaz represents energy and motion. In this case, however, there is also respect for the source of the power to be considered. This is not merely an impersonal energy source - it is a living, breathing thing whose needs and desires must be taken into consideration, rather than be simply used as a slave. This is the power that was given by the God at algiz, and this rune reminds us of our oath to only use it to help, never to harm. Like the two-edged sword, the horse is a powerful tool, but must be carefully controlled to avoid harming yourself or other. It is tempting to just go barrelling along recklessly, but to do so is to risk loosing that power forever. This is the balance that must be achieved on the path of pure magic.

 MANNAZ (Man/Mann) : man, humankind Phonetic equivalent: M

DIVINATORY MEANINGS:

Signification, self, family, community, relationships, social concerns

MAGICAL USES:

To represent a specific person or group of people; to establish social relationships

ASSOCIATED MYTHS & DEITIES:

Ask and Embla, Midgard

ANALYSIS:

In its broadest sense, mannaz represents all of humanity, and therefore the entire realm of Midgard. In more practical terms, though, it is those with whom we have personal connections, from our immediate circle of family and friends to the wider community around us, reminding us of our nature as social animals. It also represents our connection with the Gods and with nature, through the two Norse myths of the creation of humans; the first where they sprang from Ymir's body, and the second in which they were created from two logs by a river. It takes the raw energy of ehwaz and controls it through our social conscience, reminding us of those we affect with our deeds both magical and mundane.

The rune itself resembles gebo with its joining of masculine and feminine elements, but is much more complete. It is the entire web of human relationships, with the self at the centre, which mirrors the web of fate explored through raiðo. But while that web was more or less fixed, this one is mutable and alive. Past and present, male and female, self and other - all opposites are joined here and made whole. Mannaz is our home, and speaks for all those whose lives we touch when we use the gifts we have been given through the runes.

  LAGUZ (Lagu/Logr/Laf): water Phonetic equivalent: L

DIVINATORY MEANINGS:

Emotions, fears, unconscious mind, things hidden, revelation, intuition, counseling

MAGICAL USES:

Enhancing psychic abilities, confronting fears, stabilizing mental or emotional disorders, uncovering hidden things

ASSOCIATED MYTHS & DEITIES:

Njord, Midgard Serpent

ANALYSIS:

When most people think of water, they generally think of its more pleasant associations - peacefulness, love, compassion, intuition, and the emotions in general. However, we must remember that, to the Norse, water most often meant the sea, and the sea was a terrifying, unpredictable place, home of the Midgard serpent and the grave of many sailors. Laguz, then, should be thought of in terms of the lighter and the darker sides of the element of water. It speaks to our primal fears of the dark, the cold, and all those terrifying things hidden deep within our subconscious minds.

Like eihwaz, which forced the journeyer to confront his or her mortality, laguz makes us examine the underlying roots of our personality and behaviour, and allows us to modify those aspects which are hindering our spiritual development. The understanding and wisdom gained through eihwaz and the runes which followed have prepared the journeyer to face this darker side (represented by laguz) and accept it as an integral part of their selves. Laguz also prepares the person to take on the task of helping others through this self-examination process, allowing them to empathise more strongly and share their own experiences, making it (among other things) the rune of the spiritual counsellor.

 INGUZ (Ing/Ingwaz): Ing Phonetic equivalent: NG

 DIVINATORY MEANINGS:

Work, productivity, bounty, groundedness, balance, connection with the land

MAGICAL USES:

Fertility, farming, growth, general health, balance

ASSOCIATED MYTHS & DEITIES:

Freyr / Ing, Nerthus, Thor, the Vanir

ANALYSIS:

Ing is a Danish / Anglo-Saxon name for Freyr, the God of agriculture and fertility. Agriculture represents one of the first attempts by mankind to control the environment, and the fertility of crops, animals and people has always been the primary concern and religious focus of most Pagan agrarian societies. From the earliest Sumerian accounts to modern-day British folk custom, people throughout history have sought to ensure the success of their crops.

The vast majority of people in Western society have lost all contact and connection with the land and the process of growing things. The spiritual consequences of this segregation from the earth have been disastrous, since most people find it difficult to relate to deity in a purely man-made environment. The shape of this rune can be likened to that of a field, but its real significance may lie in its balance, representing the harmonious relationship between ourselves and the four elements / four directions. Ingwaz reminds us of that ancient connection between the Gods and the land, and re-links (the real meaning of the word 'religion') us with our spiritual natures through the realm of the physical. It is quite literally a grounding rune, and by reintroducing us to the earth, it reconnects our bodies, our minds and our spirits.

  DAGAZ (Dag/Daeg) : day Phonetic equivalent: D (pronounced as 'th', as in 'this')

DIVINATORY MEANINGS:

Happiness, success, activity, a fulfilling lifestyle, satisfaction

MAGICAL USES:

To bring a positive outcome

ASSOCIATED MYTHS & DEITIES:

Sunna, Baldr, Nerthus, Yggdrasil

ANALYSIS:

This rune effectively marks the end of the third aett, leaving only oþila to complete the cycle. As in the previous two aetts, dagaz concludes the third with light and hope. However, while wunjo represented earthly glories and the sun, heavenly power, the day brings these two realms together, bringing the more abstract light and power of sowulo 'down to earth' and applying it to our everyday lives.

The shape of the rune itself denotes this kind of interconnection. It is reminiscent of gebo, with its balance of masculine, feminine and the four elements, but dagaz makes further connections to the celestial and the realm of nature. Like inguz, it symbolises harmony with one's environment. But again takes it a step further, implying a harmonious relationship with the spiritual environment as well. It is a bringing together of all six cardinal points - the four compass directions, the celestial realm above us where the Gods are thought to dwell; and that which is below - all the spirits of the earth and of nature. All of these things are balanced and integrated through dagaz and brought into our daily lives.

  OTHALA (Odal/Othala/Ethel): property Phonetic equivalent: O

DIVINATORY MEANINGS:

Property, land, inheritance, home, permanence, legacy, synthesis, sense of belonging

MAGICAL USES:

For acquiring land or property, to complete a project, to strengthen family ties

ASSOCIATED MYTHS & DEITIES:

The nine worlds of Yggdrasil

ANALYSIS:

In othala, we find ourselves back in the seemingly mundane realm of wealth and property, just like the first rune, fehu. However, while cattle represented a more movable, transitory form of wealth, the land (as Mr. O'Hara said) is the only thing that lasts. It can be passed on as a legacy, but more importantly, it defines who we are by defining where we are. It is, ultimately, our home.

This rune brings us to the seventh cardinal point, which is the centre. It is the meeting place between Midgard and Asgard; between us and our Gods. It is the axis around which our lives revolve. The idea of land or property is only a symbol - we must all find our own "centre" (or, as Joseph Campbell termed it, our "bliss") to give our lives meaning, and this is really the ultimate goal of the runic journey. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, we discover that after all our travels and adventures; we all eventually end up going home. But this doesn't mean that the travels and adventures are pointless. On the contrary, it is only through those explorations that our 'home' or spiritual centre can have any real meaning for us. "There's no place like home" will have no power to send us there unless we come to truly understand what and where our home is to us. Conversely, none of the lessons learned along the way can be of any real use to us unless we actively integrate them into our 'mundane' lives and find that centre point to anchor them to. Othala not only completes the smaller cycle of the third aett, but also brings us back to the beginning of the fuþark itself, only on a higher level. We may now begin the grand cycle of the runic journey again.

Blank Rune

The blank rune (or 'Odin's Rune', or 'Wyrd') was invented by Ralph Blum, author of 'The Book of Runes'. Blum explains in the introduction to his book that he started out using a rune set someone gave him, not knowing the first thing about them, and sort of made things up as he went along from there. The blank rune was one of those things.

There is absolutely no evidence that a 25th 'blank' rune ever existed historically.  Many subsequent books have been published based on Blum's, and so the fiction of the blank rune has been perpetuated.

The information on this site is adapted from 'Raido: The Runic Journey' by Jennifer Smith, copyright 1994.

http://sacredwicca.jigsy.com/runes

[apoeticmindset]

a wee snippet of the book I’m working on

A silver sliver of light appeared like a crack in time. His pupils darted and narrowed, as though trying to remember how they were supposed to react.

He wondered for a second if he had finally reached madness and then remembered that time had been and gone decades, perhaps centuries ago.

He did not get up.

He slowly blinked, then closed his eyes serenely.

This isn’t real, he thought. It couldn’t be.

A deep breath. Inhale. On the exhale, he opened his eyes.

It was still there. Casually. Almost insultingly.

He looked down and noticed with some surprise that he could make out the tips of his fingers. He tried to wiggle them, and they twitched in confused response. He had been convinced at one time that he was carved from stone. That his memories, however clear they still were, were mirages of madness.

But his fingers were moving.

He closed his eyes and breathed steadily. In. Out. In. Out.

Small snatches of chatter could be heard in his mind, in the echoes between chasms of lost time and imprisonment. They asked how, why, when, how long, who did this and, most importantly, how on earth do we stand up?

His eyes flickered open periodically, to check it was still there. No point wasting precious electrical signals if they weren’t needed.

It remained, waiting.

With one last preparatory inhale, he creaked slowly, achingly upwards, a chorus of screams tearing from joint to joint.

Never again will I make fun of the mortal elderly, he thought, they’re bloody warriors against time.

His hand reached forward, and pushed.

With alarming ease, a door swung outwards and he cursed aloud as he fell forward, forgetting how legs were supposed to work. His face felt the cool embrace of dirt, as well as the confused crawling of an ant who was perfectly sure that it had been daytime mere seconds before, and where was that crumb she’d dropped, oh god, is that a nose?

He exhaled sharply (flinging the ant back out towards daylight, who then scurried away, not taking any other chances) and shoved himself back up.

“Urgh.” he exclaimed aloud, patting down his pockets and sending puffs of dust into the cold forest air.

He shook his head and clicked his fingers, regretting the decision for a second due to the pain but then forgetting as soon as a crumpled cigarette appeared between his fingers. Using his thumb as a kind of flint, a small blue flame appeared. Lighting his cigarette, he took in his first lungful of smoke in a very, very long time and waited for his eyes to adjust. It was like being snow blind, the reflection of light off even dark surfaces alien and baffling.

There was no-one around. Not a humanoid shaped anyone anyway; there were plenty of sounds and smells that gave away other kinds of life. He took another drag and looked around his feet.

A couple of metres away, partially obscured by disturbed dirt, a glint of metal. His eyes narrowed to focus, and leaning down, he dislodged the item from the mud.

After a brief spitshine, he held it to the light.

A small, silver, antique-looking key.

He looked around at the upper branches of the trees. He was looking for the tell-tale black orbs of eyes, and the blue-black of the feathers. Signs of his partner-in-crime, his greatest friend.

Seeing nothing of note, and not trusting his eyes, he let out a shrill whistle with a sharp melody, and waited. He turned the key between his fingers, feeling the cold metal on his skin, even with the ancient dust filled ridges of his hands.

Why had he been freed?

His imprisonment between worlds, outside of the true constraints of time, had been long and arduous, lonely and testing. He had been cruelly promised forever in that cell, a truly terrible punishment for an immortal, but unsurprising considering the other punishments meted out. Others on the same side were condemned to forgetting, condemned to mortal lives in the human world.

Mortal, at least, if they never recovered their memories of godlike, immortal status.

He turned around and gazed upon his prison. A tall, overbearing oak tree whose gut was opened out. The chasm inside where he had been imprisoned held the darkest of all darknesses, a void outside of all realities. He watched as the bark wound and stretched itself over the wound inside until all that was left was a normal looking tree.

A caw echoed in the woods. A flap of wing halted, and a raven stood in front of him. It was larger than normal ravens, its blue blackness hyper-real amongst the rotting foliage of the forest floor.

“Hello,” he offered, “did you free me?”

The bird looked around hesitantly before cawing in response.

“I see. How did you get the key?”

“Caw.” Replied the raven.

“That’s worrying.

"Is he safe?”

Several caws uttered the reply.

“Mortal danger?”

The bird jumped as though startled and took off, leaving him with more questions than answers.

There was only one thing for it. He was the Investigator, after all.

With another click of his fingers, the now-finished cigarette disappeared. He wasn’t a litterer, especially not in magical places like this, and definitely not in a world that didn’t belong to him.

He looked down at his hands, watching the different colours of flesh swirl around like a lava lamp. He could take on any identity and any appearance, not by his making, but by the virtue of his powers. Whoever he came across instantly saw a trusted face, an authority they would not question.

He could be a powerful ally or an equally powerful enemy. It was his role in the war that had created the circumstances of his imprisonment. His captors had taken no chances and he had been held in that cell of sorts for centuries. He had no idea what human year it was, no idea how long he had been imprisoned, but if he was free now the old lines that had been drawn had clearly been overstepped, blurred, erased. There was a power struggle, and if his friend had been taken prisoner, there was another war on the horizon.

*

Abena and Phil stood in the gloom of the space that had opened in front of them. It smelled oddly of damp.

“Where are we?” Asked Phil, clearly out of his comfort zone.

“The market. At least it should be the market.”

She opened her hand, which had been curled into a fist, and let a blue flame form in her palm. With a careful step forward, she gave flame to a lamp and took it from its place on a table.

They were in a market hall. It seemed abandoned, tables bereft of goods. The lamp gave light to sparkles that danced in the low glare, magic still swirling.

Items lay strewn haphazardly across the floor as far as the eye could see. There were half burned banners that had fragments of phrases handpainted on the fabric; Invisib, Magics for Begi, Trace Your Tribal Spe, Candied something.

“Someone or something destroyed this place.” Phil whispered, developing a fearful hunch as he stood behind Abena.

“Shh,” she said, “do you hear that?”

In the quiet, whimpered crying could be heard. It was nearly silent.

“Hello?”

She heard a shuffle, as if someone or something was preparing to make a break for it.

“It’s okay. Friends. Friendly.”

A few table-rows ahead, a small mop of dirty blonde hair appeared. Beneath the mop were golden-yellow, sloping eyes.

A Wolf Child.

Abena stepped forward. The child edged backward.

“It’s okay darling. Are you hungry? I have biscuits?”

Abena rummaged in her bag and offered an open pack of biscuits, placing them down on a table in front of her.

The child stepped out from behind her hiding place and slowly moved forward, not taking her eyes off the pair. Seeing Abena in the light of the lamp, she visibly stood to attention before taking one cookie carefully. She looked to her left, and nibbled.

All three looked in the direction of the child’s gaze.

“Is that…”

“That’s a painting of me.” Exclaimed Abena.

“That you?” Whispered the girl, looking around in terror.

“Yes. A long time ago.”

The painting, or poster, Abena couldn’t tell, depicted her in a heroic pose, surrounded by an aura of clear blue light, with a raven perched on one wrist.

“What happened here?”

“The Western people,” said the girl, chewing, “they came and destroyed everything. They took my parents. Took other people. Took or destroyed their wares. Things. Some people got away. Took other prisoners. Some hid. I hid. Scared.”

“You are a wolf child?”

The girl nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Astrid Yellowwolf of the Starry Plains,” she burped, “the Third.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Astrid. I am Abena, formerly known as the Compassionate of the Stars, the Land and the Sea. And this is, uh, Philip.”

“Philip?” The girl giggled. “Is that your whole name?”

“As far as I know.”

“Can I have another biscuit? Human delicacies are hard to come by these days.”

“Take the packet.

“What happened to your things? What your family sold? You didn’t keep them here, did you?”

The girl shook her head.

“That would be silly. No, they’re at our home.”

“Can you take us there?”

Astrid hesitated.

“Maybe. I don’t know who could be there though. We hid them, but they could still be watching. It’s scary.”

“I will be there with you. And so will Philip. Philip can fly.”

Abena looked at him and raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

“Abena, I don’t know if that’s possible.”

She patted his shoulder.

“It’s all about belief, my friend.”

“It’s about practice. And that’s what I’m out of right now.”