Millennial Mage

Tala tried to take Lisa’s refusal in stride, but it niggled at the back of her mind throughout the truly delicious—and otherwise pleasantly diverting—feast.

To her surprise, every dish contained magics seemingly tailored to each human who ate it, and watching carefully, she was able to see that those magics were introduced into the food as each person took the given portion.

Is… Is Vidarra adding magic to each at will?

-It looks like it, but… that shouldn’t be possible. Right?-

Well, it’s possible, we could do it, but it wouldn’t be meaningful.

-Yes, yes. That’s not what I meant.-

Then, precisely, yes. The whole idea is that the given working is in the natural magics of the food eaten, and that can be transferred, in part, to the consumer. Just putting magic in food doesn’t do anything good.

-I suppose… You know what? Now that I consider it, aren’t the Pack experts on creating and modifying natural magics?-

…Rust. I did not… I did not consider that connection or application, but yes.

With that mystery at least partly solved, she was able to focus back on the repast.She might have been a bit concerned that either she or one of the others might offend Anatalis or one of the Pack, and make things worse for gated humanity, but Tala had been assured repeatedly that while Anatalis often killed those who offended him or the Pack—often on the scale of centuries—he never took the offensive action as indicating anything beyond a particular individual. Apparently, despite their highly collective and interconnected nature, Anatalis still considered beings as individuals in most cases.

Even considering that, Lisa’s absence still bothered her.

His response to the invitation hadn’t been panicked—nor had it implied that they needed to depart from the Lunar Hunt either rapidly or as soon as reasonable—but he’d also had no interest in coming out of Ironhold, or even his own home now that it was complete enough that he only continued working on it from the outside every third day or so.

Tala suspected he only did even that as much as he did because the children continued to be interested in coming by to watch, and he seemed unwilling to disappoint them so thoroughly as to cut off the spectacle completely.

-He did consent to a meeting with you in a couple of days. So, at least he isn’t just holing up in his home while we’re in the Lunar Hunt.-

Tala groused. I should hope so. I’m carrying him around in a space that is bound to my soul. The least he can do is agree to meet with me if I have things to ask.

Alat sighed dramatically. -You know that you don’t want people acting that way toward you. You’re just a bit on edge because of all that’s going on. Reasonable as it might have been for someone else in your position to expect such deferential treatment, you don’t want—and have never wanted—residence in Ironhold to come with any implicit or explicit requirement of deference or obedience toward you.-

…yeah. But it would be nice if they did what I wanted… She fully understood the contradiction in that stated viewpoint. She didn’t want to have any authority over them, but she also wanted them to at least do as she said with regard to the space itself…

Something began swirling within herself, within her gate, within her soul.

My authority isn’t over anything as fleeting as the residents. She quite honestly didn’t care one way or another what they did, so long as it didn’t harm Kit or make her life harder.

My authority is over the fundamental parts that make up Ironhold. It’s all mine, and I don’t want it—or its future utility—lessened, harmed, or destroyed. I don’t want its fundamental nature distorted or disturbed… She felt herself slide a hair toward Paragon as she put her impressions and vague feelings into words, even if only in her own mind. Tala felt like she was so close to a truth that she needed.

It just wouldn’t fully form within her coherent thoughts.

I want what is mine to continue. I want it to improve or remain the same, but the specifics are mostly irrelevant to me… if it remains the same, I don’t want it to stagnate. I’m happy to help with any of the specifics, but I generally don’t want to pick them, nor do I feel I have—nor should have—the right to do so.

-That sounds like a landlord?-

A bit…but a landlord has control over many of the specifics—even if that control isn’t exercised—and in the end, he wants what is loaned or rented to be given back.

Rane bumped her with his shoulder. “You look really frustrated—or at least contemplative—is there anything that I can help you with?”

She shook her head, his question not hampering her thinking, even if she was trying to focus, and hearing him made that hard. She wanted to hear him and give him her attention when he was speaking to her, just as she knew he did for her when things were reversed. ＲА

“Alright, just let me know.”

She smiled at that, bumping her shoulder into him to give contact and show her thanks. “I will.”

After another minute or so, she sighed, and returned her attention to the feast.

This was a celebration of welcome for them. The least she could do is enjoy herself and the amazing food.

* * *

Anatalis made the rounds through the human guests, welcoming and chatting with each one in turn.

They all responded with gratitude and respect, relieving some of Tala’s stress.

It wasn’t that Tala had expected otherwise from those that Lyn had selected as ‘worthy’ of this honor, but there had been the tiny fear at the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away until those initial greetings had passed.

These were people of prominence within Ironhold, and they would have been missed if they had misstepped and had been... removed from the Lunar Hunt.

The god-beast ended his rounds near Tala and Rane once more, which actually gave Tala the opening to ask something that she’d been curious about. “Great Anatalis. A bit ago, you were involved in a cell. You and the Lord of the Southern Forest worked together to kick the prisoner back out of Zeme.”

The wolf grunted. “I thought that I had detected your magics there. What do you wish to ask? So far you have only made a statement.”

“My question is why? Why was she kicked out and kept away? Why did you work with the Forest Lord?”

“She was kicked out, because she is an abomination who would see Zeme as a whole destroyed. Her advancement is also such that your quaint ’solution for all evils’ would be wholly ineffective.”

Tala blinked a few times in confusion. Then, she realized that he meant the cells and decided to ask for clarification on another point, “Is she an abomination because she doesn’t have a soul?”

“It is because her soul has already passed on, and her body—subconsciously—will always try to follow, even if it means dragging the rest of Zeme along for the ride.”

She felt a tightness of fearful anticipation as she asked, “Is that possible? To go physically to the next world?”

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“No.”

The categorical response surprised her even as it relieved some of the tension she’d been feeling. “Jus

“That which is ‘Real’—that which is physical—cannot enter into the world of Magic. Do not mistake me, it can dip in, if properly sheathed in the Void, but it cannot stay, and it cannot merge with anything that resides therein. It is the same for the Void.”

Tala frowned, considering the implication of what he’d said. “Then… is there a place where Reality is supreme, and the other pieces cannot endure?”

“That is a debated topic. Many say that such is what exists outside the radius of Zeme and the Doman-Imithe. Some say that that’s what Zeme was supposed to be—and was—until it was broken. I am not old enough to remember, nor have I ever encountered a being who was.”

“So, repairing Zeme, if it were possible, would require shutting out magic and the void?”

“I do not believe so. I think that this is a fundamental misunderstanding, no matter how widespread. Reality is what should be. It is that which is without sapient interference, and without anything breaking it apart. Void is simply emptiness or separation. It exists everywhere and must do so in any existence that is larger than a single infinitesimal speck. Magic is that which supersedes standard causality, that which changes what would have been, generally at the behest—and due to the willful choices of—sapient beings whether directly or indirectly. What we commonly refer to as magic is simply that potential and power of change and redirection distilled and wielded at a more fundamental level.”

Tala considered for a long moment. “So, a world of pure ‘Reality’ would be one without free will or volitional action?”

“Whether those within it realized such or not.”

“You mean people within pure Reality could still believe they were making sapient choices?”

“That is likely, yes.”

“What’s the difference, then?”

“Would you rather feel safe or be safe?”

She frowned again. “That seems like a change in topic, but obviously, I’d rather be safe, whether by my own power or some other means.”

“Exactly. Even if a world of true choice is lesser in every other regard, the mere fact of true, volitional choice would render it better than the most pleasant of puppetted plays, at least from the perspective of a sapient puppet.”

Tala grunted. “If a thing is good, then only the true existence of that thing is good. The mere appearance of it, without it being there, is actually an evil? Like water in a desert is good, but a mirage can lead to harm because it leads people astray?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“So, a world without magic would be evil in your eyes?”

Anatalis regarded her for a long moment. “Let us say lesser. The label of evil… it is a different discussion entirely.”

“Fair.”

“But keep in mind that even that theoretical world would simply be a world without magic. It would still require—and contain—Void.”

Tala grunted, considering for a moment, then barking a laugh. “We are rather down the rabbit trail, are we not?”

“Indeed. Suffice it to say, that prisoner was a threat to Zeme and that which I hold dear. She was also beyond you to deal with. The Lord of the Forest feels the same way, and thus our power, our will, and our authority easily mesh to enact our desire upon Zeme. It is as simple as that. Others came as well—in a manner of speaking—but we were the first to arrive, and we were sufficient.”

Tala got the sense that Anatalis had already said as much as he was going to on the subject, so she thanked him, and turned back to the food.

As the feasting wound down, the sireling came over to Tala, meeting her eye to eye.

“I would be grateful for a rematch. I learned much from our first clash, and I want to see how much I have grown.” The wolf glanced toward the nearby Terry bird. “Just one on one this time would be preferred.”

Tala regarded him for a long moment. “Honestly, as much as I would enjoy sparring, I don’t know that a true match would be very useful. Again, I’d love to spar, though.”

“Oh?” The sireling seemed genuinely curious about what she meant. “If our lives aren’t on the line, what’s the point?”

The Pack really has a distorted view of that sort of thing, doesn’t it. Tala sighed. “Yeah. I have made several advancements—using soulbonds, not inscriptions—that would render such a competition somewhat meaningless.”

That gathered the attention of other nearby wolves. Several of the Talons in attendance grinned, aware of the recent culmination of her dissolution breath.

Tala looked around, seeing that she was the center of attention. With a sigh, she gestured out over the cliff. “Great Anatalis, would you be amenable to my use of hostile magic in that direction? With inscriptions suppressed, the damage will be very localized, though it is… very dissolutory.”

Anatalis faded into existence beside her, regarding her critically. “You already had my curiosity. Now, with a question like that, you have my attention. I think that I would be quite remiss if I did not see such a demonstration. Yes, you may work your magics in that direction.”

Tala gave a bow and walked to the edge of the cliff. “I will use inscriptions to ensure that the area of effect is away from those watching, but that is all that the inscriptions do.”

After a moment, Anatalis nodded in acceptance.

Tala opened a vent along her back, pulling in air, claiming it as her own and filling it with power even as she compressed it. That had actually been a bit of a concern. There had been a chance that Vidarra’s authority would extend to the air within the Lunar Hunt and the chance that such would not let go when it was pulled into Kit. Blessedly, that had not turned out to be the case.

Less than a minute later, she was ready.

“By your leave?”

Everyone was focused her way, now, and Anatalis gave her the go-ahead with a solemn nod and the simple words, “By all means.”

With now somewhat practiced motion, she opened her mouth—and the portal within—shooting forth a compressed column of air.

The booming roar of the results shook the very ground, even as the power was spent almost entirely in the air, above the trees and the land below.

She closed off the portal a moment later, keeping her lung at about half compression, ready in case she needed it but not dangerously charged or requiring her active focus and will to render inert.

There was a long, long moment of silence before Anatalis turned to her. “You will not use that particular combination of magics within the Lunar Hunt again.”

Tala blinked at him a few times before bowing. “Absolutely, as you wish. May I ask why?”

The wolf seemed to consider, then he nodded. “It was as a papercut to my Vidarra. It would never cause lasting harm, not as it is now nor as she is, but it was… unpleasant for her.”

Tala bowed again. “Certainly then. My apologies, great Vidarra, for any pain that I have caused.”

A soft voice, laced with power, floated to her on the wind, “All is forgiven, young one. You wield a magic that is nearly unique. My Anatalis should tell you more. Be wise in your use of such power.”

Tala seemed to have been the only one to hear the soothing, obviously feminine voice, but Anatalis was just as obviously privy to the content of the message. “That power is something of a contradiction.”

Tala oriented on the great wolf. Indeed, everyone present did so, despite the distraction of the still smoldering air and smoking treetops out, over the cliff in the land below. Lyn even went so far as to pull out an Archive slate and start taking notes.

“It is a magic that breaks down all it touches. As such, we cannot create it in natural magics. Indeed, it cannot exist in natural magics at all.”

Frowning, Tala opened her mouth to protest, but Anatalis continued.

“By your magics, and those of your… Talons, it is obvious that you know of the endingtrees. As such, you are likely confused by my categorical statement. Are you aware of their origin?”

She slowly shook her head. “I am not.”

“I thought not. They were created for early humanity as a boon by a god-tree. The tree made the species of itself, placing all its power, all its sovereignty over trees and fruits and the cycle of life into the forceful restraint of the power within the trees, among a few other things.” The wolf grinned his predatory grin. “Have you noticed how your breath burns even the air itself? Have you never wondered why these trees do not simply obliterate the air around themselves and burst into flame, given their every fiber is filled with that same power?”

Tala’s eyes widened. No, no she had not considered that, and she really should have.

“That is understandable. The god-tree did much to disguise the true nature of the trees, and there is a conceptual mask over just such a revelation, though some of your Paragons have pierced it over the millennia.”

“What was the boon? Did they ask for an unmatched weapon to wield against our enemies?”

The wolf scoffed. “No. Though, it has been that at times, even if never very effectively wielded.” He glanced over the cliff’s edge. “At least until now. It has been the template for many of your warriors. Its fruit has empowered your heroes of legend and allowed for the protection of some of the earliest gated, warding off those who pursued them into the lands of your cycling cities before any had plumbed the mysteries of advancement sufficiently to defend themselves.”

“So, that’s it, then? A means to defend ourselves against more powerful foes?”

“No, as I already said. That was not it at all. The boon requested was simple in wording, but so pervasive that it required the sacrifice of the very being of the giver, even if not its life.” The wolf’s predatory grin turned, somehow rueful. “It is one example all capable of giving boons look to as a cautionary tale. The god-tree was uniquely susceptible to such a result due to its nature as a tree, a non-sapient being at its core, but the lesson is still the same. Our boons can harm us, and even force us to harm ourselves, even if they cannot force us to end our own existence.”

Tala waited, somehow understanding that Anatalis was building to the ‘reveal.’

The wolf looked around as if verifying he had their attention. He needn’t have bothered. No one was even eating anymore as they waited for his next words. “Yes, dear humans, the boon requested was simple: We ask for a means by which we might repair the world.”