Jein, of course, knew nothing about the implications brought about by his existence. The first of the candles was reduced very nearly to a waxy disc upon his table, by the time the noises within the temple began. His eyes ached from staring at the flickering light by that time, and he welcomed the He licked his finger, set out the flame that danced on the wick, and pushed himself off the ground.
His legs throbbed and ached from sitting cross-legged upon the hard stone for the last three hours. Shouting rolld out through the stone halls, and Jein stepped out. As soon as his door cracked, it was slammed shut.
“Kid, listen to me.” Gillium’s voice came out from behind the door. He sounded exhausted. “There are people from outside the Cathedral here. We can’t risk you exposing yourself to draw attention from the Cult…”
“How are the others?”
“Leith...is incredibly injured. I had to help walk him back.” He said. “Benoit and Gimel...well…”
“Well what? Are they okay?”
Jein tried to push the door open once more.
Gillium’s fist hit the door closed again.
“No. They’re not.” He said. “We lost a lot of good men today...some city guards as well. We’re tending to all wounded. We have no way of determining if any of them are cultists, though…”
“So how long do I have to stay locked up in here?”
Gillium groaned, and leaned against the door.
“Who knows…”
“Are you okay?”
“Who knows.”
Something scraped against the door, and pressed against its foot.
“Please let Leith be safe…” He heard the man mutter from beyond the door.
“How many died?”
Gillium groaned and sighed loudly.
“There are no counts so far...more than twenty.”
Jein swallowed.
Over twenty lives were lost because of him. Why? Just because that damned light seared him with the Depth? Because the gods ordained it? Jein thought to the Warlock’s words in that alley. Perhaps if he had accepted his offer, would all those people still be alive? But, no, all he could do was cower behind Gillium.
“I’m sorry.” Jein muttered from behind the door.
Gillium grunted a simple, “Hm,” at that.
He had to get stronger somehow. Would Enchanting and Alchemy really be the key to that? No. He needed to learn real magic. He needed to learn to fight. Of course he did. If he only relied on others to keep him safe, how many more todays would there be? He sat down on the floor and began staring at the candle’s light again.
“I bet if I learn it by tomorrow he’ll teach me magic…” the boy muttered to himself.
But how was he supposed to learn it? “Meditate on a candle’s light…” what was that even supposed to mean? He tucked his hands into crossed legs and stared at the light. Its halo stretched and shrank as the flame, bound by its wick, burned down to its ultimate destiny: to its death in the wax that carried it since the moment of its inception.
Little by little, it crawled. How was all life not like this flame? Every life, predetermined. Every breath, already thought through, and written upon one’s back at the moment they entered adulthood. Jein took a deep breath, and the candle breathed with him. Its halo rising with his inhalations, and falling with his exhalations. Each breath he took, the candle drew closer to its death.
That halo broke into fractured lines. New shapes formed within the light. Letters and words...all flowed into his mind. His back itched. Before he even realized it, the light was snuffed out in both the sky and the flame. Another life lost to his Being. His eyes fluttered and sank, and he found himself on the ground, fast asleep.
He was awoken hours later by a loud knock on his door. Jein stood, and wobbled as his nerves buzzed as blood, once restricted, began to flow through his leg muscles again. It was either early in the morning: before the sun had a chance to claw its way out of the Void, or
The door shook as another knock came from it, and it swung open slowly.
“Sorry. Fell asleep.” Jein said as Aurrior walked into the room.
“The healing is all done, and you’re free to go about the Cathedral again.”
The man’s eye glanced to the candle: now melted down to a waxy disc on the table.
“How’s Leith?”
“He’ll live.” The Old Man said. “I see you’re trying to learn candlelight.”
Jein nodded.
The Old Man sat at the table and placed a small wooden box that was hidden in the folds of his robes. He sat at the table, and motioned for Jein to do the same.
“It has come to pass, after a rather vigorous discussion among the elders of the Order that you should be taught the basics of enchantment and alchemy, regardless of if you’re able to learn the spell.”
But…
Jein closed his eyes.
“Light. All is light. You breathe as I breathe, and grow as I grow. Light, come to me.”
A small candle: pale and white, came to life at the side of his head and cast a white light in the room.
“Remarkable…”
As Jein cast his first spell, the Window of the World opened up in front of him.
[CAST YOUR FIRST SPELL +50 XP (NOVICE MAGE) COMPLETED
CAST FIVE UNIQUE SPELLS +100 XP (NOVICE MAGE) 0/5]
Aurrior’s eyes traveled to the phantom candle. His gray eyes were wide and full of wonder as they caught the glow of the candle’s light.
“Incredible…” The Old Man said. “Simply incredible.”
Pride beat through Jein’s heart.
“This is what a Depth of 12 can do, huh? What normally takes a person months to master, you can do in a day…”
“I…”
Now Jein didn’t feel as proud of what he had done. Instead, he felt as if he were showing off and bragging about the special Destin that had been written for him through no act of his own.
“Sit. We will begin your training.” He sat down on the floor next to the table and opened the box. Within it was a small, single bladed knife; a piece of copper, a mortar and pestle, a quill, and the twig of an oak tree, a little bit of water, and an egg.
“I’ll only teach you the basis...you do know your letters, right?”
“Yes sir, I do.” He was almost insulted at the notion that he didn’t.
“Good. Now sit!”
Jein nodded and sat across from him. He pulled out a second box, and slid them across the wooden surface towards him. Jein opened it, and saw that they had similar items.
“The Art of Enchanting is easily imparted. Follow after me.”
The man picked up the copper ore, and dropped it into the mortar. It clinked to a stop within the stone. Jein did the same. Aurrior then picked up the pestle and began pounding at the ore within the mortar. The ore cracked into tiny pieces, and he uttered an incantation over it. It was soft and muttered, and each syllable caused the new candle set out to flicker.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“The essence of enchanting is the use of materials. Enchanting is used to imbue Essence into another item.”
The copper ore turned to orange dust within the bowl. He set the pestle down, and took up the small knife and the oak twig.
“We do this through two methods: we use a Material — that is an item of who’s essence we wish to use, and we use Language. The Father gave us language to delineate us from the beasts and monsters of the world. It is the most sacred thing in existence. Its is how we negotiate with the Father’s light that permeates all of it creation.”
Jein picked up the small clump of copper ore in between two of his fingers.
“This is the material, then?” The Boy asked.
“Indeed it is. We will be imparting its Essence upon this twig.” He held up the oak twig. He had already began carving letters into it. “You begin by crushing it, but, before even that you have to thank it for offering itself to your service.”
“Huh? Why?
“Everything in all of creation holds the Father’s Light.”
“Everything?”
Jein held up the ore between his fingers. The phantasmal candle reflected off the unrefined facets of orange metal. Was that the Light of the Father? No. It was his light that was shining within it. Light that he had created out of nothing…Once more, that fractured light began to fracture in segmented circles, and words began to form within the shimmering. He felt his body move by itself, as if captured by some inaudible song that forced his body to move and sway, and the mark upon his back began to ache once more.
“...Jein….Jein….JEIN.”
The High Priest’s voice woke the boy up from his trance, and he shook his head.
“Sorry…” The Boy muttered. “I must be tired after meditating on the candle for so long.”
The Old Man seemed unconvinced — his brow raised in concern and skepticism both. Jein didn’t want to tell him he had learned a new Spell just in that moment. How would he react? Would he dismiss it again as a product of his Slate again? Of course it was, but that wasn’t Jein’s fault, was it?
“Where were we…” The Old Man seemed to drop the inquiry for now. All the better.
“Thanking the material.”
“Right; you have to thank the material. Repeat after me.”
Jein nodded.
“First, drop the ore in the mortar.”
Jein released it from his fingers, and it fell inside of the basin with a clink.
“Now repeat this prayer.” Aurrior said, and Jein nodded.
"Oh Copper—born of the Father's first action
when He gathered the Void and gave unto it form.
You who carry His light within the veins in the Deep
who waited ages in darkness to serve this purpose:
I take you now, not as master, but as steward.
May the light you release find new shape in what I make."
Jein paused for a moment.
“I have to...I have to repeat all that?”
“You do.”
“Oh Copper...born of the Father’s first….uh.”
“First action.”
“Oh copper, born of the father’s first action,
When he gathered the Void and gave unto it Form.
And uh…”
“You who carry His Light…”
“And uh you who carry His Light in…”
“Within..”
“Within your veins in the Deep. I...er.”
“Who waited ages to..”
“Who waited ages to...to…”
“serve this purpose.”
“Who waited ages to serve this purpose.”
“Good.”
“I...uh…”
Aurrior sighed.
“I come to you not as a master…”
“I uh, come to you not as a master, but as...assss….”
“A steward. “
“As a steward...may your light—“
“THE light…”
“The light you release find new shape in what I…” Jein paused as he wrestled with the last word in his mind. “Make.”
There was a soft glow within the light being refracted from the facets of the ore shifted slightly.
“Now you drop it into the basin, and break it down, while meditating on the words you just spoke.”
Jein released it from between his fingers. He thought of the words he spoke. What light lay within a piece of copper? It, itself, didn’t hold any. Instead it reflected what light was shone upon it. Then, did it, at one time, hold the Father’s light? As the stone hammer worked to break apart the ore into fine, black and orange dust, Aurrior took up his knife and began carving at the wooden twig.
“What next?”
“Next you carve the words you spoke into the item you wish to enchant…”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
Jein groaned. He was going to hate enchanting.
The knife slipped across the surface of the oak twig, and sliced into his finger. Jein hissed and shook his hand: droplets or blood flinging in every which direction. By the time he got the first uttered statement on the oak twig — “Oh copper,” Aurrior had already finished the entire prayer.
“After you’re finished carving the prayer into the w—“ Aurrior’s eyes glanced to Jein’s twig. Splotches of red stained the stripped twig, and rolled down the side of his fingers. “Ah, I see you’re struggling.”
Was that satisfaction in the Old Man’s voice? No. Jein must have misheard it.
“Well, there’s plenty of time to practice.” The Old Man laughed.
Jein felt his cheeks and ears burn.
“What good is this anyways?”
Jein tossed the knife and the twig on the ground.
“An adventurerer lives or dies by his gear.” The Old Man said, now...watch what happens when I finish this up…”
Aurrior poured the remnants of the copper ore into the water, cracked the egg on the side of the table, and mixed them all together.
“The egg makes sure its not too watery.” The man said, “But you can also use dirt, tree sap...any number of things in the wild.”
He crushed the eggshells inside the mixture as well.
“You don’t have to thank the egg.”
Auriror chuckled.
“No, no. If we impart the egg’s essence into this, it’ll stop it from functioning properly.”
Jein turned his head to the side. Stop what from functioning properly? Once all of them were neatly bound together in a single, black liquid, Auriror dipped the end of the quill into it. He then traced the lines he had carved within the wood. The black ink sank into the wood as if it were w a sponge, and soaked it up. The white lines, nearly invisible moments before against the white wood, were now visible. Each word, eventually, popping out as the black ink settled within.
Once the last line of the last word was finished, Aurrior held it up to his mouth and blew against it to dry.
“And just like that, the enchanting is done.”
“What? That’s it? What happened?”
“Take up the twig you were working on.”
Jein nodded and took it up.
“Now bend it towards me.”
“Huh?”
“Break it. You know how to do that, right?”
“Of course I do!”
“Break it.”
Jein rolled his eyes and bent the small twig towards the priest just as he said. The wood snapped into two, jaggedly sharp ends.
“Okay?”
“Now try the same with this one.”
Aurrior held the twig that he had worked on to Jein. The Boy rolled his eyes, and pent it outwards. Instead of snapping, however, it bent into a point.
“What? How?”
“It has become hard and malleable like copper.”
“Wow!”
Enchanting was cool!
“But what’s the use of it?”
Aurrior smiled.
“Now, instead of this twig, imagine we enchanted your shirt with the same prayer. Or even imbued it with the essence of iron. It would be like wearing extremely light armor, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
“There are even some people who can enchant individual threads. Imagine that: each thread in your shirt was its own piece of iron armor. Or steel. Or dragon bone…but that’s not all. Imagine enchanting your sword with the essence of a salamander...it would burn with every swing. There are some people that are able to enchant their own bodies.”
Each sentence the old man spoke drove more and more possibilities. His mind raced. What if he were to learn this? Become a master of it? This was it! This was his ticket to getting stronger quickly.
Aurrior took one of many rings off of his finger and handed it over to the boy.
“Examine the engraving on that.” ‘
Jein held the ring up to the white light of the phatasmal candle by his head, and read outloud the familiar words.
“Light. All is the father’s light. You breathe as the Father breathed and grow as the world, from him, grew Light, come to me…” It was familiar enough; though a bit different from his own, “it’s the incantation for Candlelight.”
“Indeed it is. But this one is imbued with my own blood, so I’m the only one that can activate it.” Aurrior held his palm out, and Jein placed the ring back in the old man’s hand.
Instead of reciting it, he brushed his thumb against the words within. There was a slight glow from the ring before a white light appeared beside his head.
“Cool!”
“Do you understand the implications of this?”
Jein thought for a moment and then shook his head.
“Imagine, instead, it’s a twig…” He held out the copper imbued twig, “With the incatation for, say, Flame Lance…” Aurrior said, “Well it becomes a quick way to activate the spell in times of trouble...though something like this,” he twirled the twig, “Would turn to dust at the first cast. That’s where more...complimentary materials come into play.”
Jein’s mind raced with possibilites. How many twigs were there in the world? He could horde an arsenal…
Aurrior continued.
“Or…” He motioned to the golden sash around his waist, “If instead if something you wore had a protective spell enchanted on it. Well, it becomes a boon in a life or death situation doesn’t it?”
How powerful was enchanting? If only he could steady his hands.
“But that’s not the end of it…”
Aurrior took one of the candles from the crate, as well as one of the matches and lit it. He held it up above his head.
“Oh Candle; give thine Flame to mine.”
The flame of the candle burst into a white puff, and the candle by his head burned brighter.
“You could do things like this...enchant spells. Say if you want to make a spell, ‘sharper,’ you might imbue it with the essence of a deer’s horn. If you want to make it hit harder, imbue it with a stone. It truly is the most versatile crafting art there is.”
Jein could believe it.
“Your first task is to enchant 5 sticks. Then Gillium will begin teaching you how to do alchemy.”
“Why would I need alchemy?”
“It’s also useful.” Aurrior said. “But in a different way…”
The High Priest groaned as he pushed himself off of the floor, and shambled to the door. He pushed it open.
“Aster, come here.” He shouted: his voice rolling down the hall.
“Geez…” Jein heard Gillium groan on the other side of the wall.
It wasn’t but a moment later that the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard coming down the stone halls. Aster arrived a breath later; his chest barely rising and falling with his exertions.
“Did you call me, High Priest?”
“I did. Bring Jein here a box of twigs, and some small clumps of copper ore. Oh, and something to eat.”
Aurrior patted the acolyte’s shoulder and walked down the hall.
“Yes, High Priest.”
Gillium glanced at the floating candle beside Jein’s head; his eyes slightly widened, as the door closed once the High Priest had left the threshold.
