NOVEL NEXT Ch. 11
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 element that allowed for this manifestation.
If the others existed out there, and were drawn in, then this last one could be something that he had to give up in exchange.
What’s the point of resonance if not to align something inside with something outside?
He opened his satchel and pulled out a fresh strip of rune-inked paper, one of the experimental 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 time to himself, “Okay. Aetheric reaction comes from a cycle: intent, conduit, invocation, manifestation.”
The scroll didn’t register intent. Of course it didn’t. That wasn’t a measurable input.
He grabbed the scroll and wrote in the margin: New hypothesis: fifth element = conceptual root enabling intent-manifest conversion. Not emotion. Emotion is proof-of-contact, not mechanism.
He repeated the Veil of Shame again and watched it fade after sixty seconds.
Just like before.
Except this time, he didn’t look away.
He kept his eyes open as the memory bloomed behind his eyelids—kept his mind anchored in the moment of recollection. The wash of humiliation. The words Severa had said.
He saw the stone in her fingers and the shimmer of her robes. But more than that, he didn’t just remember his own thoughts at the time, 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 memory a hundred times before. But now—it wasn’t just echo or playback. It had presence, like a room he could walk through.
He focused on the moment Severa had turned and walked away, stone in hand, her sparks trailing behind.
And instead of just remembering 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 remembered thinking it—weakly, angrily, silently.
And now, the memory echoed back with shape, like he was standing in the same space as his past self.
“This isn’t just a memory,” he whispered. “It’s . . . a frame 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 shimmered 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 time in months—maybe longer—he felt anger. Then rage. Then clear.
So this is what Lorvan meant by interacting with the scenarios in your head.
He felt a bit better now. He hadn’t even realized how bad he’d felt before.
[RESONANCE ACHIEVED: ??? Element — Alignment Confirmed]
— Conceptual Anchor Detected
— Source Identified: Internal Concord
— Element Registered: Concordance (Unlabeled Type)
— Rank III Aetheric Bridge Formed
[SYSTEM NOTE: No standardized Spellform exists for this element.]
Awaiting User Expression.
Fabrisse stared at the message hovering above the firepit.
[ELEMENT REGISTERED: Concordance (Unlabeled Type)]
Rank III Aetheric Bridge Formed
[SYSTEM NOTE: No standardized Spellform exists for this element. 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 as 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 elemental branches.
He racked his brain for something—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 same time, like a door he hadn’t known was always unlocked.
Then, another glyph overrode the existing one.
[SYSTEM UPDATE: Final Element Achieved. Quest Completion Menu Available.]
Computing Optimal Path . . .
Estimated Time to Process: 2 minutes
“Wait—what do you mean ‘computing’?”
He hadn’t even done anything with this element yet. He didn’t know what it meant. How could the glyph already be calculating a future he didn’t understand?
However, this wasn’t time to worry. It was time for celebration.
He looked at the flame. Then at his hands. Then back to the hovering glyph.
“Oh my stones,” he whispered. “I’m going to be somebody.”
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 element at once! Imagine that—Quadraligned Fabrisse Kestovar, Scion of the Unspoken Flame, 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 meant to become!”
He held his breath as he peered at the glyph menu.
The glyph chirped.
[Optimal Path Identified.]
You have achieved internal Concordance. Based on your performance and element 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.”