He tapped his fingers against the side of his knee, glancing again at the fire, then to the glyph logs he’d recorded from his earlier invocations. All four had one thing in common. They could manifest and interact. Maybe there was a linking elent that allowed for this manifestation.
If the others existed out there, and were drawn in, then this last one could be sothing that he had to give up in exchange.
What’s the point of resonance if not to align sothing inside with sothing outside?
He opened his satchel and pulled out a fresh strip of rune-inked paper, one of the experintal diagnostic scrolls used for spellcasting feedback loops. He then pressed the edge of his palm to it and cast a basic trace: a null-imbue, designed to log magic.
The scroll glowed faintly. He spoke again, this ti to himself, “Okay. Aetheric reaction cos from a cycle: intent, conduit, invocation, manifestation.”
The scroll didn’t register intent. Of course it didn’t. That wasn’t a asurable input.
He grabbed the scroll and wrote in the margin: New hypothesis: fifth elent = conceptual root enabling intent-manifest conversion. Not emotion. Emotion is proof-of-contact, not chanism.
He repeated the Veil of Sha again and watched it fade after sixty seconds.
Just like before.
Except this ti, he didn’t look away.
He kept his eyes open as the mory blood behind his eyelids—kept his mind anchored in the mont of recollection. The wash of humiliation. The words Severa had said.
He saw the stone in her fingers and the shimr of her robes. But more than that, he didn’t just rember his own thoughts at the ti, but felt them. He could feel himself thinking, there and then, from that past self’s perspective.
Wait.
Fabrisse narrowed his gaze.
That shouldn’t happen. Not like this.
He’d recalled this mory a hundred tis before. But now—it wasn’t just echo or playback. It had presence, like a room he could walk through.
He focused on the mont Severa had turned and walked away, stone in hand, her sparks trailing behind.
And instead of just rembering how it had hurt, he felt his younger self think: “That stone’s not yours.”
Fabrisse’s eyes widened. His lips parted.
He had never said that aloud. Not then. But he rembered thinking it—weakly, angrily, silently.
And now, the mory echoed back with shape, like he was standing in the sa space as his past self.
“This isn’t just a mory,” he whispered. “It’s . . . a fra of mind.”
He let himself stay in it.
The sense of humiliation. The sharp sting of injustice. The impotent silence he’d wrapped around himself like armor. For so long, he’d believed he’d moved past it—outgrown it. But it had only curled inward, tight and quiet and unfinished.
His fingers burned. A thin line of crimson shimred at the edge of his palm, bright as if drawn by a blade of light. Sparks of rage. He stared at the glowing thread, and for the first ti in months—maybe longer—he felt anger. Then rage. Then clear.
So this is what Lorvan ant by interacting with the scenarios in your head.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
He felt a bit better now. He hadn’t even realized how bad he’d felt before.
[RESONANCE ACHIEVED: ??? Elent — Alignnt Confird]
— Conceptual Anchor Detected
— Source Identified: Internal Concord
— Elent Registered: Concordance (Unlabeled Type)
— Rank III Aetheric Bridge Ford
[SYSTEM NOTE: No standardized Spellform exists for this elent.]
Awaiting User Expression.
Fabrisse stared at the ssage hovering above the firepit.
[ELENT REGISTERED: Concordance (Unlabeled Type)]
Rank III Aetheric Bridge Ford
[SYSTEM NOTE: No standardized Spellform exists for this elent. Awaiting User Expression.]
“Concordance,” he echoed aloud, tasting the word. And Rank III at that? He’d never achieved Rank III at anything in his life, and this was supposed to be the essence of magic itself. Maybe he wasn’t as bad at magic as he’d thought?
He hadn’t even finished rereading the phrase when his mind stuttered. Had any discipline he knew ever used that term? Not Harmony. Not Unity. Certainly not any of the Twelvefold’s elental branches.
He racked his brain for sothing—anything—that might link to it. No rituals. No theoretical essays. Not even in the fringe papers buried in the Thaumic Repositories. The closest term thaumaturgy had was resonance, which was the principle of sympathetic interaction between magical constructs, but even that felt too rigid and too codified. The word felt new and familiar at the sa ti, like a door he hadn’t known was always unlocked.
Then, another glyph overrode the existing one.
[SYSTEM UPDATE: Final Elent Achieved. Quest Completion nu Available.]
Computing Optimal Path . . .
Estimated Ti to Process: 2 minutes
“Wait—what do you an ‘computing’?”
He hadn’t even done anything with this elent yet. He didn’t know what it ant. How could the glyph already be calculating a future he didn’t understand?
However, this wasn’t ti to worry. It was ti for celebration.
He looked at the fla. Then at his hands. Then back to the hovering glyph.
“Oh my stones,” he whispered. “I’m going to be sobody.”
A dozen visions burst through his head at once.
Maybe he’d be the next Stormbringer. Like Master Stormbringer Edren Ythis, who once summoned an entire hurricane through a keyhole. Maybe his Concordance would let him link to every elent at once! Imagine that—Quadraligned Fabrisse Kestovar, Scion of the Unspoken Fla, Binder of Realms, Slayer of Paperwork!
He bolted upright and turned to Dubbie, still snoring against the tree. “Dubbs!” he shouted, shaking her by the shoulder. “Wake up! I’m about to get my spell focus. My optimal path!”
“Whuzzat,” she mumbled. “Did the roots move again?”
“No. Better. Look—look, look, it’s calculating! This is it. The glyph’s choosing what I’m best at! What my resonance is ant to beco!”
He held his breath as he peered at the glyph nu.
The glyph chirped.
[Optimal Path Identified.]
You have achieved internal Concordance. Based on your performance and elent affinity, your Primary Aether Path has been determined.
Another line appeared, gilded and radiant:
⭐ Celestial Hoarding ⭐
“So what are you?” Dubbie rubbed her eyes as she snuggled closer to Fabrisse.
Fabrisse swallowed. “I’m a Celestial Hoarder.”
Reviews
All reviews (0)