The Magister's Rage Part 15

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Following my previous encounter with Flinbek, I found an unexpected clue that would finally lead me to both my Adamora's sparesoul and my own. In his haste to escape the wreckage of his poorly considered trap, he left some of his blood behind. Although I felt guilty for doing so at the time for reasons that no longer matter, this allowed me to scry for him using the teachings of Samson Amul. It had been many years since I had used blood magic but, after many months without progress, this opportunity was not worth discounting. I found what I was looking for almost immediately. Flinbek had taken both of the artifacts to a village called Storm Cliff, located on the modern-day Midanian territory of Eagle Island.

At the time, I had told no one of my use of blood magic. Kartal had made himself aware of these activities as a Chaotic templar like himself is considered to have a responsibility to police such magic. In my shame, I told only him of how I came to find Flinbek. With news of a direction in which to head finally being found, Adamora saw no reason to delay our departure, but I was less certain. Even with the work Broger had done to change my magical signature, the use of blood magic in particular opened me up to a threat that was once forgotten. I was forced to send Voltairine, Adamora and Kartal to Eagle Island without me while I awaited the consequences of my simple scrying spell.

Samson came to me that night after my companions were long gone and sneaked into my room, thinking to awaken me unawares. Having anticipated his coming, though, I stayed up to greet him. Years ago, when the bodies of Garanda and myself were one, it would have been the height of foolishness to confront him alone. I remembered how it was only thanks to Garanda that I had scared him away the last time we met. Without the Demon Knight to plague and protect me, I should have been at his mercy. But this was sixty years ago. He had plenty of time in which to expand his master of blood magic, but my travels had allowed me to learn how to use soul magic, control my silverfist form, and apply my use of magic in a true combat situation. Whatever his intent, I was ready to face him.

As it turned out, however, I needn't have worried. His intent to kill me before had been rooted in fear that I would expose him and the coven. Even when I was personally safe from his reprisal, I chose not to do so. This was particularly out of concern for my children's safety, but many years of silence had apparently won back some measure of trust from the coven. He had come to find me in a dingy little motel in Ridge not with murderous intent, but to ask for my help.

The coven had decided to follow a new path in my absence; a plan to bring legitimacy to the art of blood magic so that no one had to practice it in the shadows any longer. At this point I regret to say that I refused his request. With my preoccupation with Garanda and my personal mistrust for Samson combined, I dared not spare the time. I told him that some of the things we had done together proved that the use of blood magic didn't deserve such legitimacy. To my surprise, he accepted this sentiment as fair and changed the subject without any fuss.

He instead began to ask me about my life since leaving the coven and, to my further response, I told him everything. I informed him how the fear he had inflicted on my wife and children caused me to lose my family. I explained how I had come to learn soul magic and how this caused me to become separated from Garanda. I told him of how I had commenced a quiet search for him while working with the resistance to the former Geosian regime in Resta. I even told him of then-recent events and why I chose to use one of the skills he had taught me for the first time in ages.

The Samson Amul I had initially met would have tried to convince me that the answers to all of my problems lied in the blood magic that only he could teach me, but the one I spoke to that night gave me some useful advice instead. In his limited understanding of soul magic, he suggested that therein lied my key to finally bringing Garanda to heel. I already knew this to be the case, but as he asked questions about how I might use soul magic in this case, new thoughts began to form. So it was that the two of us parted on much better terms than we had previously. He left with newfound knowledge of soul magical theory and some recommendations for books with which to begin to study it. I, on the other hand, left for Eagle Island with a plan.

When I caught up to my companions, it was to learn that they had already confronted Flinbek. In his haste to retreat with his life, he had left the black diamond that contained Garanda's soul behind, which had been picked up by Voltairine. I had arrived just as Flinbek, who was then possessed by the power of Adaling's sparesoul, had been cornered at the edge of the bluff outside the village. Using the shadow witch's power, he nearly dropped Voltairine over the edge but I managed to pull her back while Kartal engaged our foe. Flinbek did escape despite our best efforts, but not with the sparesoul.

It was then that I began to lay out my plan for stopping Garanda. What made him particularly dangerous was his freedom from me. While Adaling remained confined to her sparesoul and whoever possessed it, Garanda had his own body. This was the problem I would have to alleviate in order to end the threat he posed, but that was easier said than done with his power. Even if I had found more blood to absorb in order to enhance my strength and magic, his time inside my mind had imbued him with all of the knowledge I had up to the day he was released. Thus, there was nothing stopping him from doing the same thing, least of all my own sense of morality.

I had realized from my discussion with my former master that I would never overpower Garanda. Thus, the only hope I had was to force him out of the body that Broger had given him. With the power of the black diamond, I had the means to do so, but I did not have enough confidence in my growing theory to explain it to anyone else. Instead, I took the diamond from Voltairine and put it in my pocket. I told her not to worry for me. As I plotted my next move, however, Adaling acted up once more by possessing my cousin. With her magic in its original hands, it was easier for her to toss me over the edge. Kartal would have to suppress her without my help, I thought to myself as I fell.

What she didn't know is that she had played right into my plan.

Continue to Part 16

Mia Gold, The Champion of Salica

Long ago, on a clear night in the coastal town of Solan, the local Governor and his wife were brutally murdered. The case was never closed because the only witness to the slaughter was the couple's young daughter, who was far too traumatized to access her memory of the incident. Torn away from her family and slowly losing grip on her sanity, young Mia Gold would find refuge in the arms of her godmother, Dinorah Winstrom. Lady Dinorah would go on to assume the former office of Mia's late parents and take in their distraught daughter as her own ward. It was then that Mia learned that her adoptive mother was the leader of a secret society of noble assassins, whose purpose it was to punish those who plant the seeds of evil in the innocent and guide those who suffer from evil before those seeds can grow. With a mind full of wrath and violent imagery, Mia embraced this new family so she can turn her newfound urge to kill toward a more productive purpose. By day, she is teenage noble with an unassuming smile, but by night, she is a Scarlet Starling. 

Mia's training as an assassin has made her proficient with a plethora of deadly weapons that compliment her stealth, including blades, a garrote, and various poisons. She specializes in disguises which allow her to veil her identity and intentions so she can safely approach her targets in public. This attention-grabbing style of assassination speaks of her pride as a Starling, of whom she has complete faith in their ideology. But this pride lends itself to her greatest weakness: her dogmatic loyalty to her fellow assassins has allowed a lifetime of psychological damage to wither her senses of morality and empathy unchecked. This leaves her with a confrontational personality, a quality that combines with her deadliness to cause distrust in even her allies. Even those to whom she manages to get close find her to be stand-offish, impulsive, and humorless. But those who appeal to her sense of nobility find someone who works her hardest to protect people from the pain she's felt.

Tales of the Starlight Crusade: The Doom Caller

In a world in which magical energy permeates the very air, even music has a mystical quality to it. A good melody can fill you with feelings that span the entire range of emotion. It can give you energy and divert your focus. On this world of Comalan, a musician carries the same responsibility as any spellwarrior or pyromancer to curb the negative consequences of this power. Those who understand this go on to become folk singers who travel the land and bring a level of joy and comfort to others that is the envy of both Serene and Salican priests. I like to think that's what I do most of the time, which is why my brother insisted that I join the Starlight Crusade.

I'm no warrior, nor do I have any particular interest in exploring the great void, but it was my destiny to play the famed Miracle Symphony for a needy audience. Who needs the power and confidence of this divine composition more than an army fighting an alien threat whose dominance has expanded to two worlds? This undertaking is the highest calling for any musician, but even my little brother's high rank on the Morta very nearly failed to secure my role in it. I have worked for many years to deserve such an honor, but a woman named Alexandra Hawke nearly swept me out of contention with a seemingly unnatural talent.

The interview was a stressful one for me because I had gone into it nearly sober. My brother had warned me that General Swan, the leader of Royal Army of Intelligence, would carry a lot of weight in the decision and he would not understand my need for sintaden. Hardly anyone ever does, after all. My malady is believed by most to be unique, which to them means it can not be real. Even if my disability is believed to be genuine, I needed to prove that I could function without wandering through my life in a daze like I usually do. For the most part, I think I can. When I cease to medicate, the music that plagues my ears returns, but that doesn't make it impossible to function completely. If I can stay calm, the music will never get too loud to tune out.

While I waited to speak to my brother and General Swan, I played the composition that I was to audition with in my mind. I wasn't fully confident in my ability to perform the Miracle Symphony yet, so I had planned to play a simpler piece with a similar melody-- the Hope Symphony. Even that was to be a complicated piece as I would need to control several instruments at once. This would be a simple manner for any experienced musician with enchanted instruments, but I was counting on the general to be unaware of that. As I waited for my turn, however, Alexandra began her audition with a familiar tune. From beyond the door, I could hear her playing the very antithesis of the composition I dream to play-- the Disaster Symphony.

Foolish! She may have been playing flawlessly, but that was never meant to be played in friendly company. My heart began to hammer with the dread that the Disaster Symphony is meant to evoke. The music in my head grew louder to compete with the sound of that evil composition. I have never needed my medicine more than I did in that moment. I had to take this edge off. But as I began to consider dipping off somewhere to medicate, heavy thuds rocked the walls of the Royal Army Headquarters while Alexandra reached her crescendo. I stared into the floor without focus as soldiers began to secure the rest of the building. There would be no stepping out now.

Suddenly, the music in my head changed. With the force of all of the blood rushing to my mind and the power of the melody itself, I could no longer hear the other audition at all. I was filled with confidence as I listened to the orchestra that played only for me. I realized then that this was my moment, not hers. I picked up the bag of instruments that I had brought with me. There was not enough for me to match the glory of the melody I could hear. I would have to add some claps to match the cymbals and some vocals to match the organ. I rummaged through the bag and found one remaining pair of clap gloves. I pulled them on with a grin. I walked toward the meeting room with my bag slung over my shoulder. An officer ordered the door open so he could check on the commotion.

Alexandra stood there in the center of the room, feverishly plucking at the strings of her vibrantine with such skill that her instrument seemed to be emitting a ghostly wail. As her music began to fade, she opened her eyes and looked upon the destruction she had caused for the first time. The dais upon which my brother and General Swan sat had several holes in it. The General himself stood alone atop the dais, staring intently at the three wrathar, two bladot, and six imps that were swarming around a silverfist that had been backed into a corner. They were assuredly drawn by the Disaster Symphony, the pinnacle of compositions for Doom Callers. She had revealed herself to be a musician whose sinister music was capable of drawing and controlling demons. But with no enemies at which to direct them, they had instead turned their wrath on my brother, who was losing. The officer and his three subordinates rushed into the room to help him, but even more demons showed up until the room was full. They were outnumbered, but I was ready.

I began with my guitar, playing along to the string section in my head. I then added my ocarina to follow the woodwinds, then my hand drum. Each time I added a new section to my piece, I floated my instruments in the air around me, where they would continue to accompany me as I played. As I released my drum, I began to clap along rhythmically to the melody. As my gloves slid off my hands, I began to vocalize the final piece of the melody. As my own music began to fill the room, the outnumbered soldiers and my brother fought harder to dispatch the demons before anyone could be harmed. I played out my new composition with a jubilant smile on my face as the angry gorilla in the corner ripped the last of the imps apart.

The silverfist leaped back onto the dais and snorted angrily at General Swan before resuming his original form as my brother. He said something about the general overestimating his power by leaving him to fend off the Disaster Symphony alone, which I probably would have agreed with if I could hear everything he was saying over the music that continued to play in my ears. The two men dismissed us to confer on the decision of who would be providing their musical abilities to the fleet. We were both invited to wait for them to choose and seated together in the waiting area I had previously occupied, where Alexandra tried to while away the time with conversation. She seemed genuinely friendly despite the sinister nature of her music, but my own music still assailed me, making this wait far too tortuous to talk to the one who had aggravated my symptoms.

Finally, a clerk directed me back to the meeting room, where my brother informed me that I was going to be joining the Morta in the Starlight Crusade. General Swan didn't look pleased with this outcome, thus demonstrating what a contentious decision this truly was. I learned later that he was concerned with my reliance on sintaden and saw more tangible benefit to Alexandra's weaponized music. But my brother stood by me, arguing that the incident proved that Alexandra was the bigger liability. What ultimately sealed my place on the fleet was my improvised composition: an acoustic rendition of the Miracle Symphony.

Fides

Fides is Galeon's internationally recognized capital and center of diplomacy and consensus. Located on a large hill in the center of Galeon's eastern river region, the city is made up of three major boroughs: Fides proper, Old Fides, and the Fides Outskirts. The main part of the city, which is what most mean when they refer to Fides, is a bustling metropolis known as a place where people from all over Mortanis and beyond travel for either business, politics, or pleasure. It is home to Galeon's main public forum, the Fides Amphitheater, as well as several foreign embassies containing portals to their respective nations. Old Fides sits at the western base of the hill, on the bank of the Draconis River. While a few people still reside in this area, it is largely considered a historical site, popular with students, researchers, and those looking to learn about the region's past. The Outskirts, located farther down the hillside in a circle around the metro area, is home to several farms, residences, and workshops, as well as the famed Fides Academy of Engineering, known as FAE.

Culture

As Galeon's center of diplomacy, Fides is home to a large population of foreign immigrants and diplomats. While Rashara also houses a sizeable immigrant community, the perception of the two cities is starkly different. Rashara is considered to be a haven for social outcasts fleeing their old countries, while Fides is largely seen as a respectable place for, for instance, affluent Restan expats to settle down in retirement. It is considered an easy place to start for those travelers who are unfamiliar with Galean culture, since one can always find a community of people from one's own country somewhere in Fides. 

In addition to hosting a large contingent of diplomats, the city is also home to those from within Galeon who seek to involve themselves with the greater workings of the nation. Because of this, there are some who view the city as a breeding ground for a new generation of Windtalkers - those they believe would regress the nation towards a culture of hierarchy and dishonesty.

Places to Visit

The Fides Amphitheater 

While there are many who attend the Amphitheater every day in order to discuss political matters of great importance, it is also a highly popular travel destination. People go to not only to observe the Galean political process in action, but to lay eyes on one of the oldest standing structures in Fides' metropolitan area. The grand, round coliseum is made of a striking red marble, and is visible from  almost anywhere in the city. 

Fides Academy of Engineering (FAE)

Located in the outskirts, this institution is known across Mortanis for its cutting edge research and the inventions it yields. For those who are interested in seeing some of these innovations in action, the Academy holds monthly showcases which are open to the public. Like many destinations in Galeon, many people also travel here to see some unique architecture. FAE is notable in particular for the manner in which the majority of the structure sits within the eastern side of the hill. When flying over Fides, many note that the visible side of the structure looks like a crescent moon. 

The Candle

While the official name of the structure is Helios Tower, it is far more often affectionately referred to by the locals as the Candle. The name is fairly self explanatory - this narrow tower juts out over the city and culminates in a grand, golden dome that comes to a point. Popular largely with tourists, traveling to the top provides one with a birds-eye view of the entire city, as well as much of the landscape beyond. 

Old Fides

As was previously stated, while there are some who still reside in Old Fides, most of these are people who are staunchly devoted to the preservation of the site, and as such, have opted to live much like the people who lived there long ago, when these original structures were built. Old Fides was, of course, the original metropolitan area back when it was far more beneficial to have direct access to the river and the trade and travel that came along with it. As the population grew and methods where devised to transport goods and people with greater ease, the people gradually migrated to the hilltop. A visit to Old Fides is a must for those with an interest in history or archaeology. 

Abu Moya

This fine dining seafood establishment, open only for dinner, is located in the heart of the metropolitan area. The restaurant is open air and located on a terrace atop the Fides Museum of Modern Art, high enough above the city to provide a quiet, comfortable, romantic atmosphere with a sparkling view of colorful Fides at night. It is a must visit for distinguished guests to the city, though reservations generally should be made a few weeks in advance because of high demand and the terrace’s limited space. It is a popular spot for those looking to book a memorable, romantic night out.

Abu Moya’s menu specializes in fish found in the rivers that outline Fides, which guarantees that all food served is freshly caught. While the restaurant’s famed chef utilizes many traditional Galean ingredients, their unique creations and reinterpretations of traditional dishes are considered daring and modern, and feature bold, exciting combinations of flavor and texture in addition to being visually striking.

Poached Verdant Riverbird
A flavorful cut, poached in white wine, served with olive brine popping pearls and chips of Galean fig. 

Trout Tamarind
Petite filets of trout, encrusted in a mixture of tamarind paste and crushed pistachio. Served with a rice pilaf and a tart lemon sauce. 

Fida Moya
River crab cakes - infused with spicy harissa, served with cooling goat cheese and a sprinkling of pomegranate seeds and almond.

The Red Lord’s Foot

This colorfully named inn and pub is one of few Heronite establishments in Galeon, and is discreetly located in one of Fides’ darker back alleys. Many well-traveled visitors say walking into the restaurant is like stepping from Galeon into an authentic Dalaskan pub. The founder and bartender is a first generation Heronite immigrant who moved to Galeon for unknown reasons, and is known as a shady, but charismatic character who often tells stories about his homeland.

The menu features several traditional Heronite dishes, making it a fine choice for anyone looking for a heavier meal than what many Galean restaurants feature. This makes the pub particularly popular in Fides’ colder months. The Foot is also known for its wide variety of alcoholic beverages, not only from Heron, but from all of Mortanis and beyond. It has a reputation for being loud and occasionally rowdy, frequently featuring live music — which often leads to patrons breaking out into drunken song and dance.

Rabbit Stew   

A traditional, hearty Heronite stew of rabbit, pearl onions, and several varieties of mushroom and root vegetable. Served with a heel of bread and goat cheese. 

The Foot’s Breakfast 

Lamb sausage, black pudding, morels with pearl onions and root vegetables, and fresh bread topped with fried egg.  

Boiled Lamb Dumplings 

One of the few dishes originating from the far eastern region of Heron. Boiled dumplings stuffed with spiced ground lamb, served with a side of roots and picked apples.

The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist, Part 10

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

"Now that your mind has been opened to the truth, we can begin to make sense of your impossible existence."

This was easier said than done as far as Kaleth, who was still processing the reality of this conversation. Like his father before him, he was now able to hear the voice of the God of Time. But as this ability was supposed to be unique to his father, the Avatar had never bothered to tell his son anything about the voice that now spoke directly to his mind. He wasn't prepared for the Fadalian's soft-spoken and patient tone. When he had read about the damage Geos had done to Comalan-- specifically his homeland of Resta-- he pictured a cold entity skillfully controlling the deep-seated rage that his father had given him through both heredity and upbringing. But as he sat down on his bed next to the dog from which he had recently been fleeing for his life, the comfort Geos brought him now made him think more of Serenity than Chaos. But with Geos with him, even this idle thought was a statement for the god to hear.

"In my early years, it is true that I felt more of my mother's influence while father doted on our dear Maula," Geos said as if they had just been sharing a casual conversation. Was this what it was like for all Avatars to speak to the gods? "I believe that's something we have in common. I would go so far as to say that made my decision to allow you to succeed your father less complicated."

"Aennin said my father caused all of this. What did he do?"

"You may wish to keep some words to yourself," Geos warned as footsteps sounded outside the boy's door, then quickly faded away. "You never have to speak words directed for me aloud again. To answer your question, I must take you on your first tour through the Reservoir of Time. Your father used my machine's power to fulfill a selfish wish and carelessly allowed the evil that pervades your world to grow. To further elaborate, it would help for you to understand how the Reservoir works."

Before Kaleth even had a chance to think of a question that could possibly make sense of what he just heard, he heard a high-pitched mechanical whine. He followed the sound upward and saw a pentagon that was wide enough to encircle him had formed in the ceiling. The shape extended toward to floor, revealing a strange metallic structure that was sinking to enclose Kaleth within its walls. Darkness fell as the pentagon swallowed the floor underneath him. He was vaguely aware of the floor vanishing, but when it was gone, he seemed hover in place instead of falling as he waited for something else to happen. He wouldn't have to wait long.

The first thing to happen was the golden light that gradually began to illuminate Kaleth's strange coffin at various intervals in the form of a glowing symbol that resembled an hourglass enclosed with curved lines that was was topped with a circle that could be a sun when compared to the crescent moon shape at the very bottom. Kartal had taught him that this was a sigil representing Geos, and it could be seen every so many yards for as far as he could see both above and below him. Kaleth continued to stare at the nearest of these lights until they all began to move, scrolling upward as loud mechanical hum was heard coming from the walls.  It took Kaleth a minute to realize that he was moving and by then he was falling so rapidly that the glowing sigils had melted together into massive blurred lines. He began to feel nervous, but found himself slowing down before he could start to panic. Gradually, the lines began to break into individual symbols once more, which then slowed to a crawl and eventually stopped. 

Moments later, Kaleth felt solid ground beneath his feet once more and saw light once more as the bewildering machine vanished. He adjusted his eyes hastily and soon found himself standing in a familiar place. He was home. More specifically, he was standing on Midstreet, a road running through Beldor that he had walked so many times between his home and primary school. He had never seen it quite like it appeared now, with the moon hanging high in the sky to indicate that it was late.

"Stay hidden," Geos' voice warned the boy. "I have brought you here only to observe."

Fortunately, Kaleth knew all of the hiding places along this road, out of necessity. Those who took an interest in his father always made his days intolerable, so he had taken to walking through the trees that lined the sidewalk. He used to climb one of these trees and walk between them from branch to branch before jumping into his backyard, but this was before he had been taught easier ways to move around. For the second time that day, he inhabited the body of a bird--this time a seresian owl--and perched himself on the nearest tree branch. With superior eyes, he scanned the road and found what he was looking for: his mother walking home. She looked slightly younger, and appeared to be loaded with books. 

Suddenly, from the shadow of an alley between an abandoned restaurant and a new laundry, a slender form darted onto the street and enclosed her between a pair of long, stringy arms. Kaleth focused on the assailant's face and saw Aennin drawing a blade to her throat. He might have felt sick to see this, but the mind of the owl whose form he took processed this image more calmly than he would have. He looked on as Adamora struggled in vain against the assassin's grip. 

That was when Kartal showed up.

Kaleth watched as his father snuck up on the assassin as stealthily as he had appeared, realizing as he did so that it helped him not to picture his name. Kartal pulled the assassin away from his beloved, but as he did so, something strange happened. As Kartal stepped back, he left behind an after-image of the assassin who continued to hold Adamora. He threw the elf that was caught in his grip roughly to the ground and kicked his knife arm with enough force to send the weapon flying. Meanwhile, when the other elven assailant quickly slit his mother's throat, another after-image remained standing in her place after she fell to the ground. The still-living version of Adamora turned rushed to Kartal and threw her hands around him while both assassin's fled; the successful killer melted into the shadows from which he came while the defeated version took off running down the street. 

Kartal and Adamora spoke for a few minutes before returning home, leaving the version of Kaleth's mother who had been killed to bleed on the floor. He watched for a few minutes longer as an old man walked onto the street. He too split into two versions of himself, one of which rushed to inspect Adamora's dead body and the other of which continued casually walking past her. As the old man who knelt over her began to call into his airwave tablet for help, the one who had kept walking bent over to pick something up from the ground: a brass locket he had found in the spot the failed assassin had been thrown into. He held up the locket to casually examine it as a pair of spellwarriors rushed down the street to relieve his counterpart.

"What you have just witnessed are two versions of the truth," Geos said then. "When Aennin Moonstep was soon to become my sister's Avatar, her first Avatar used his magic to turn the elf's blade on someone he had deemed a threat to himself. In one truth, the woman who is to be your mother died well before you were ever thought of, only to be avenged by your father later. In another, your father's timely intervention saves your mother and allows you to exist."

But how did what just happened here cause the sai'mul to start taking over? Kaleth thought, unable to speak even if he wanted to in this form.

"I'm sure you noticed the bystander who first happened upon the scene of your mother's tussle with Aennin after it was over," Geos responded in a tone of overt patience. "Did you see what he did in the truth that led to you?"

He picked up a necklace that somebody dropped.

"That necklace belongs to your mother," Geos said approvingly. "It is a sparesoul containing the spirit of an evil witch that has haunted your mother since birth. In the version of the truth ending with your mother's death, it was buried with her so the spirit's evil could be contained by her tomb. In the other, Aennin tore it from her neck in the struggle and neither of your to-be parents noticed that it was missing until it was long gone. In hands other than Adamora's, the spirit of Adaling is even more dangerous. It was this spirit who bestowed the sai'mul army with all of the power they need to overpower the living. She has driven them to cross lines which no one else would dare to try. This was all made possible because my power was used irresponsibility by someone I expected to know better. It would seem that love is stronger than even the great Sir Marle's faith."

It doesn't sound like saving my mom was what caused our problems, then. What if they had picked up the amulet?

"The only way to know for certain would be to observe as the water flows into a new direction," the gods said cryptically. Kaleth remembered that the name of the time travel machine that Geos used was called a Reservoir, but this only helped him to understand that the god meant that the only way to be certain was if they tried it.

"I cannot allow you to interfere with the contents of the Reservoir just yet," Geos said sternly. "After your father's betrayal, I am hesitant to trust mortals with control of my machine at the moment. I have allowed you to see the past because it is important that you understand the past and be mindful of the future to make the wisest decisions in the present."

If I do something, maybe I can save the future!

"You cannot know that for certain," Geos replied, although the tone of his voice made Kaleth begin to feel as if the god was humoring him at least. "If you are to represent me, you would do well to learn to be patient. When you master my power, there will be no hurry."

How do I master the power of time?

"You must understand the past and learn to be mindful of the future," Geos repeated. "By proving that you are capable of observing the past without bias, you have accomplished the first of these requirements. But learning to carefully consider the future will be harder. Uncertainty has a way of paralyzing those who are inadequately prepared and unforeseen disaster awaits those who do not take the exercise seriously. Until you can competently predict the consequences of your actions, no matter how small, you cannot fully inherit my powers."

Kaleth suddenly began to feel his body returning to normal of its own accord as five-walled machine dropped out of the sky to swallow him once more. As the symbols began to move again, this time downward, he began to contemplate Geos' words. Understand the past and be mindful of the future to make the wisest decisions in the present. Now that he finally knew the truth that tied his existence to all of the tragedy in his life, he felt slightly older. But he wouldn't be able to do anything about it until he became as intimate with the future.

Next Chapter

The Confectioners' Menagerie

Travelers to the Restan-Galean border city of Freedom's Reach, beware! During the final week of Ames, every citizen is inclined to look over their shoulder at all times and even the most reclusive will try to avoid being alone. Their behavior changes completely, which always seems to put off visitors, but they do so only out of fear for their own safety. For reasons that remain a mystery to all, people are known to occasionally go missing from the city at night. There seems to be no consistent frequency or prejudice for these occurrences; Restans and Galeans alike of all sorts have proven to be vulnerable. In some years, this may not happen at all, but it has been known to happen up to five times during one particularly traumatic year.

3E6. That was the year of the last spring I dared to stay in Freedom's Reach. It is certainly a harmonious and colorful place to live for most of the year, but after the week we had taken to calling Dark Ames. I was 22 back then, and had thankfully only seen three eventful years of this apparent curse. The disappearances had already been happening for five years, which lead many of us to believe that they began with something that happened during the Archknight Rebellion, but no one has any idea what. It's not like anything meaningful happened in Freedom's Reach at the time. The Archknight and his band passed through quite uneventfully, in fact. Everyone seems to be in the dark about the connection between Dark Ames and the Archknight Rebellion, but I'm certain it's out there somewhere. The problem, though, is that no one with the knowledge and resources to get to the bottom of this could be bothered to look into it initially. The spellwarriors would tell us that since it didn't happen every single year, we couldn't be certain that any magic was actually at work here. No experts from Galeon's end seemed to take the problem seriously either. The official position on both sides of the border was that since the disappearances had no pattern, we couldn't prove they were even related. We were on our own.

That was until that fateful year. We had all thankfully been spared the year before, so the tension that we had become accustomed to wasn't as heavy. After four days, everyone had grown tired of talking about it and just carried on with our safety rituals in silence. On the night of the fourth day, the first person disappeared. But he was a drunk tourist bound for his home in Beldor. He wasn't alone when he first passed through on his way into Galeon, but he was leaving alone. Perhaps this wasn't a Black Ames disappearance, we thought. Maybe he just stumbled back onto the road at night without thinking and would wake up embarrassed somewhere between here and Palon. We tried to stay calm, telling each other as firmly as we could that it wasn't happening again.

An 8-year old girl from the Galean side was gone by morning.

With a new day came newfound certainty that the curse was in effect once more. I stayed close to my friends for the rest of the week, knowing that there was only thing that each of the previous victims had in common. No one was to be alone. There were five of us together in Laurel's house and we had bought a treasure chest of drinks and snacks with the plan of whiling away the rest of the week playing games inside her fortified den. As the night ticked on, however, we had gotten a little tipsy and began to fool around. It was around that time when John crossed a line with Amir. Little Amir had always valued his space and John had been the most drunk at the time so he was acting more chummy with everyone than he normally did. He got angry when Amir began to back away. John started yelling at Amir, demanding that he admit that he wanted him to do what he was doing. An argument ensued during which John pushed Amir over. A hush had fallen over the room when he hit the ground. Suddenly, he was back on his feet and storming out. I was nearest to the door, but I was too stunned to stop him from leaving. If I had, I might have stopped him from being the third to disappear.

The rest of the night had been spent picking apart what had happened with John and Amir. We put him to bed and locked him in the guest room until we could decide what to do with him. Laurel and Akiha spent the better part of Black Ames' penultimate day arguing over whether John should get to hang around. Laurel was disgusted with him and wanted him out of her house, but Akiha tried to argue that he would be alone and therefore vulnerable if he left. It was hard to argue with either, to be honest. I didn't feel safe around him anymore, but was that any reason to condemn him to potential death? Not wanting to be dragged in to the argument, I ducked out as soon as I woke up late in the morning to visit my sister and her family.

I was happy to see that Marie and her children had been safe so far and the five of us spent a rather pleasant afternoon together. Unfortunately, I never really got along with the Galean woman that she had recently got married to so when she got home, it became clear that I wouldn't be riding out the rest of the week with family. So, I returned to Laurel's with a heavy heart, hoping that she and Akiha had already sorted out their argument. But along the way, I ran into Akiha, who told me that Laurel had gotten tired of arguing with her over John and sent them both away. The two of them had gotten separated, but I could tell that Akiha wanted to find John. I couldn't very well leave her to try alone, so we searched together for nearly an hour before finding him... and something baffling.

John had been sitting against a brick fence and staring at the moon in a fugue state when a sticky, looking tendril scooped right off the ground and began to pull him through the air. We tried to chase him, but whatever had him moved faster than humanly possible. We followed the drops of goo that had dropped from the tendril in John's struggle, but the trail seemed to end at a hill just outside the city, directly to the west. It took me a few minutes, but I managed to find footprints that seemed to lead down the southwestern side of the hill. We wandered through the borderlands until we nearly walked off a cliff. At the edge, we saw what appeared to be a bunch of people standing together, but slightly apart just a bit further to the west. 

When we crept up to these figures, however, we found out they weren't people, but statues of people. They seemed to be carved in almost lifelike detail of something partially translucent. They appeared in countless different colors. The nearest was red and seemed to depict a short, thin man. Thinking he looked like hard candy, I pressed my hand to the statue. It was sticky. Certain I must be crazy, I licked one of the fingers of his outstretched hands. It tasted like strawberries. I had been about to report this to Akiha when she suddenly began to back away from a yellow statue nearby, which depicted a beautiful, somewhat familiar woman. She pointed out the bracelet carved into the statue's wrist and told me that she made it. I looked closer and saw the distinctive charm that Laurel was known to wear. 

I suddenly began to look closer at the strawberry man in front of man. His arms were outstretched and one leg was bent. It almost looked like he was treading water. When I studied the face more closely, I saw the same face that I did when Amir fled from John. There was a lot of fear in his expression, but also pure agony. Akiha and I looked together and nodded in mutual understanding. We had found where the people who had disappeared from the city were being kept, and their fate was beyond comprehension. Whoever did this must have gotten to Laurel before we found John, but where was he? None of the dozens of statues that were arranged in this horrible display looked like him. Eventually we found a copse hidden among the trees at the edge of the cliff and argued for several minutes about going in. 

We agreed that it didn't seem to matter at this point whether either of us was alone, but we were too scared to split up now. So, we slipped into the copse and crept between the shrubbery in silence, following a sweet smell deeper in. We finally found a decrepit cabin, a shack more like, that had only the dimmest of light escaping its solitary window. When we looked in through the window, what we saw made us run all the way home. Inside, there was a large, bubbling cauldron with what appeared to be a thick, green fluid. We then watched in horror as John was lowered into the cauldron by a chain latched to a shackle on his ankle. He kicked and screamed wildly the whole way down and managed to catch the lip of the cauldron. But the hot metal burned his hands and he quickly lost his grip. We didn't see what happened next, but I'm sure it was something we should be glad not to have seen.

Akiha spent the last day of Black Ames hiding in my house, fearing any possibility of having been followed. I kept my airwave transmitter ready to call for help at a moment's notice, but we made it through the day without anything else bad happening. Afterward, I called the spellwarriors and tried to lead them to this menagerie of candied people, but the copse, the shack, and all of the statues were gone. I had to let them into my memories to confirm that I wasn't making any of this up, but there weren't any closer to finding whoever did this than they had been before. 

At least this got the peacekeepers on both side of the border to take us seriously. The spellwarriors and HDL have returned every year since then, but they still have yet to figure anything out. I hear they've had some casualties themselves, but I wouldn't know. Akiha and I both left Freedom's Reach that summer. Seeing how all of our friends have suffered, the lives we had before seemed long gone, so we both retreated for safer ground. Akiha moved to Rashara while I returned to my hometown of Beldor. I might return some day to visit my sister and the friends who remained in Freedom's Reach, but I will never again set foot anywhere near there during the last week of spring's final month.

The Templars of the Blackstone Order

Templars exist in every corner of known world. Their purpose is to defend the honor of the gods, both as individuals and as a a collective. No act of sacrilege or desecration can be forgiven by these earnest, sectarian warriors. To become a templar requires intense training that would ideally allow one to hold their own against any of Comalan's superpowers, whether they be from Tanis, Heron, Resta, Midania, or Galeon. To a templar, the ability to put down anyone who makes an enemy of the gods is the highest calling. As such, they are especially hostile to blood mages and warlocks, who practice their arts in open defiance of the gods' condemnation. While separate orders of templars exist in each country, they are all united in the mission of enforcing the Fadalians' highest commands.

The templars of Resta represent one of the crown's three knightly orders, the Blackstone Order. They were founded in the First Age as the military of Necros, a long-since perished country that now composes the southern province of modern Resta. Their founder, a warrior named Karla Blackstone, mobilized a group of soldiers to secure the Pledge River when the Brokamac clan of Pyris invaded the land of Coronos to their immediate north. With a secure foothold against further Pyrisian expansion won, Karla held her defenders together for the length of the occupation of Coronos with inspiring words that preached the value of the continental east, where mortal life was said to have begun. It was this dogmatic attachment to the eastlands that allowed the first spellwarrior, Hem Maloran, to convince her to bring her soldiers to Coronos and aid in their revolution. With the Brokamac clan successfully routed, the Blackstone Order returned to Necros as heroes who helped to secure the chosen lands.

With Necros now secure to the north, Karla Blackstone took her troops back to the capitol of Necros and garrisoned its newly constructed castle, which was named for its newest hero. When the Plague of Suffering wiped out many citizens of both Coronos and Necros and compelled their leaders to join houses, Blackstone Keep became the Blackstone Monastery, a center of training for both clergy and new generations of Restan templars. It is in Blackstone Monastery that Resta maintains a reputation of excellence in all things divine.

Among all of the world's templars, the Blackstone Order has the highest standards of both strength and religious zeal. This causes them to produce the least fully recognized templars of any country, but the most powerful by far. The majority of their templars are followers of the Doctrine of Rage. This means that most Restan templars, including one of their most famous, are anointed in the faith of both Chaos and Salica. The knights of the Blackstone Order also particularly despise the spellwarriors of the Hem Order on a systemic level. While many outsiders assume that this is because of a historical rivalry between the two knightly orders that resulted from the merging of Coronos and Necros, the truth is that the templars distrust the Hem Order's undisciplined experimentation. For their part, the spellwarriors are proud of their heritage and consider the Blackstone Order's stigmatization of the power that allowed Coronos to liberate itself to be an insult to Restan history.

 While the average duties of a Blackstone knight involve dispensing justice to those who desecrate something divine, the dogmatic, sectarian nationalism of Resta makes defense of the kingdom a part of their duties. In times of conflict, the Blackstone Order is called upon to serve as Resta's naval forces. With a resource-rich kingdom behind them, and many years of hard discipline drilled into them, the templars of Resta can expertly sail ships that eclipse mariknights in power. Despite this, the Blackstone Order envies Midania's navy for their magically-enhanced speed and secret navigation techniques.

Out of a sense of necessity, Restan templars focus on mirroring the versatility of their counterparts in the Hem Order. Whether they are serving their country at sea, or their gods on land, you can count on the knights of the Blackstone Order to carry out their duties with practiced excellence.