rrin scanned the landscape, the high tower of stone taking up a significant spot within his caster ntation. It was a bubble of awareness, subliminal to the imdiate parts. There, deeper cogitation spun without his alertness, mostly. That part of the mind, to the lower person, was the sudden realization of ideas, of notions. They would experience it and shout in joy at the answer. But the Caster experienced a different path. He sensed the churning, the growing of ideation within that corner of awareness. Always to be aware, this was the curse of the Caster.
No ntal surprises. Never again would he go: Wow, why didn't I think of that? How did I even ponder that? Never again. Less human by the passage of ti. But that was the sum of his problems, nothing that could lead to the discovery of Enavro. What was required was an expert entry into the tower. The problem was that the sole discovered path was the front door. How odd would that be? Stepping into the front yard with a smile on his face.
"Hello there, I'm here to steal Enavro." He chuckled at the imposed vision—thought then about the likelihood of its success. Many paths did exist. To the door? Yes, indeed. But which offered the higher potentiality?
Below, the tower was guarded by a troop of Aelmiren—all ready. The need for distraction echoing in his mind.
Soon. He thought, crouched atop the flat ceiling, deliberating. Lingering. Below, he noted the subtle, calculated motions of the guarding stone n. Always in threes. A total of 20 or so patrolling the entirety of the tower. Indefatigable. They would outlast in a battle of attrition. More reasons not to attack head-on.
Furthermore, rrin studied the granular white tower—a thing he saw by the varying shades of grey and black in his ocular vision. The tower, as it were, was massive, yet a certain air of suppression waved out from it. Not soulForce, different.
Is it the suppression of the seal? he wondered, tossed a stone to the far side, gliding its descent with the soft flowings of air. Lest it made an alarming sound. Not desired for the outco of his plans. But the seal, though, caster ntation whirled back to it. A matter of identification. Auwale had enough of the lingering need for vengeance to deny him that knowledge.
Annoying.
Doesn't he know you must never deny a caster their knowledge? It was akin to blocking the very air from one's lungs. Frustrating and ultimately, damning.
Would Enavro tell ?
Likely...Nonetheless.
rrin refrained from shrouding himself in the swarming shadows. Maintaining the naturalness of his surroundings. A risk existed in such identifiable casting. What if Orvane or so Aelmiren discovered it? Yes, Enavro, from the depths of her 'other mory' revealed no casterhood within the Aelmiren, yet, Orvane, created with a greater uniqueness, likely bore secrets unknown to even her daughter.
And then there was that light spear-wielding Aelmiren.
Things within things.
This plan seems heavily dependent on probabilities. He thought, quelling the Caster's repulsion to unquantifiable data. If only sohow he could retrieve the needed information from the specific minds. Yes, the Aelmiren were lacking in cognition, but so of them—Orvane did not.
The mind Dreams!
He felt the drifting winds across his flesh, chilled instantly with contact with the frostfield. A calming thing, allowing the proper expansion of caster logic. Indeed, dreams were the most mythical ability of his. The Selunn plague.
What about the seal?
The suppression, he suspected, was evident in the proximity. Could he then achieve the pulling into the dreamscape? Likely. In the end, all things were symbols, and symbols inevitably bent to the whims of force. Intensive force, yes, but force ultimately.
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What he needed was to bathe the dream castle with that force's ferocity. Enough to break through the seal and drag Orvane into a dream. Always, he could achieve a faster ans by deploying the Ardents. However, superimposing the sudden discovery by Ivory, a non-caster, risked being dangerous. Especially when the link to the Greyworld existed within those things. Through them, one found him, and through him, one would find the greyworld.
He contemplated how long before soone figures out this flaw... Ivory had manipulated it unintentionally. Never again. But there was the matter of the Dream... Intensive force and blind searching. In a case of an abundance of cognitive minds, finding out a specific mind without the Ardents often proved laborious, but here... rrin chuckled. Only two minds existed with true sentience.
What luck...
He narrated the completeness of the created plan: Distraction. The Selunn plague and the data retrieved from it, saving Enavro and the seal...
What if the Aelmiren takes that opportunity to escape?
rrin winced. Blast it, amn't I below a Great Clan? Noctis. House of Night. If they can't handle these creatures, then they have no such right to bear the title of Great.
Of course, he knew this internal outburst as the frustration garnered from the lack of caster solution. Despite the fervent churning of the inner pool—no logic, no answer. He was no Army. The El'shadie of today could not stop this.
So I have no choice but to rely on the brightCrowns... on lowlander politics. But it's that or nothing... And I must leave this place. rrin scanned once more the totality of the stone city and plunged into the darkness underneath, vanishing into the gloom.
There was a need to secure his body. In the greyworld, in the castle, he was laden with vulnerabilities. Best to prevent that possibility. Nonetheless, the ti was here—the mont for fast actions.
Abrupt.
Explosions rocked through Kharnel—structures, buildings, alleys, thundering in fiery awesoness. Dark fus rose from the roaring sea of flas. Chaos had descended. Running, frantic, the Aelmiren dashed collectively towards the points of explosion. Scattered throughout the city, they seed like specks of white seeking solutions to the suddenness.
rrin, on the other hand, lay within a burrow, buried in a veil of deep darkness. Inwards he went, rising high within the grey, dark churning world.
Currently, floating atop the sea of dark beads, a vastness that went beyond his optical powers. The sky glood grey, dark clouds charged with flashes of lightning—the judgnt of the heavens booming like explosions throughout this world. As always, he looked at the thing above it all. The brittle mountainous dark gate, hanging there, solemn. Almost watching—spectating.
A brief wondernt on what lay there passed through his awareness, and he found the bird, tunneling through the deep clouds. Elated. Was that all it did? Flying.
No matter.
rrin gravitated, reached towards the empty space of the world, and tore through. And like a shredded curtain, it parted, revealing the vast paradise within. srizing, yes, but... There was the need for urgency. Thus, he moved to the dark castle of long spires. The thing surrounded by mountains, distant peaks, and forests. So real, others, a little more than painted illusions. Regardless. Beneath was the sprawl of red flora and tall, elastic trees. All created to induce that deep sense of tranquility. Calmness that now infected his inner self.
Ah.
He reached for the castle, felt the slight warmth around his fingers. The Servility ring that bound it to him. And in that mont, he knew the expansion of its symbols. Seeking. Searching. There was little for a visual presentation of what happened now—more of a feeling. A knowing. Sohow, the totality of Kharnel existed as a pale blackness, the structures, the buildings: Nothing within the growing internal sense. Yet, he noted the great white tower—there was sothing. Two bright orbs of light, gleaming. Pulsing. Beckoning.
He reached for them.
Felt, then, the presence of two beings within his awareness. Like the sensation during the linking with the Ardents. There, at that edge of the darkness, were they. One familiar, rid with burning whiteness, and the other, not.
Intuition pointed at the other.
He did.
And a bright whiteness flashed across his vision. Fading the wholeness of everything. He soon heard a voice in the distance, saying, "Let show you what they did!"
Although the collective oceans of Eastos are called the black seas, make no mistake, there are others—Eastorian culture.
rrin felt the golden orange warmth pierce into his eyes. Alarming. He dove to the side, rolling to the shade of a boulder. What the? There was a certain blurriness across his vision, all things as though covered in a layer of translucent film.
He winced, caressed his face, and found then the slow cleansing of the film. Slow but steady... And he froze. Before him, beyond the shadow cast by the boulder was the floor—screened in a layer of orange gold? No. Not that. Bright. Colored. Nothing of the usual dullness known to Eastos... This was sothing else.
And he gasped, cowered.
Above him was a clear blue sky.... An orb of blaring gold pinned above it. What in damnation is that?
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