NOVEL NEXT Ch. 5
No one really knew what the Eidralith was. Supposedly, it had been unearthed from a crater older than the Synod. Some called it divine. Others suspected it was just very ancient, as ancient as the meteor that had given magic to all the lands itself.
Fabrisse also didn’t know the answer. But at least today, as the box flew like a meteorite and slammed directly into his face, he learned that the Eidralith could hit like a gods-damned mule cart.
It was less like a divine moment and more like being curb-stomped by an angry wardrobe with vendetta issues. The world cracked, his teeth met air, and something important in his nose rearranged itself.
He fell backwards in a graceless heap. The pain came late.
A ringing had taken up residence behind his left eye, that only stung more and more before it started subsiding. He was reasonably sure he could taste copper.
Before the agony, something booped into being behind his eyes.
[PRAXIS NODE SYSTEM – INTERFACE BOOTED]
> Legacy Fragment Detected
> Node: Silico-Dormant Obscura [28]
> Historical Registry Confirmed. Origin: Epoch 9e7
> Status: Authentication Token — VALID
> Welcome, Apprentice Kestovar_28
> Initializing User Calibration Protocol . . .
. . .
WARNING: Operator Cognitive Sync Incomplete
ERROR: Ritual Protocols: Misaligned / Deprecated (v12.4.7)
WARNING: No Administrative Clearance Detected
Proceeding in Compatibility Mode
It was like the hush before a thunderclap, stretched across the marrow of his bones. The world stayed still, but something inside him didn’t.
The wards along the sanctum walls lit up in glyphs he couldn’t read, but somehow understood. Draeth’s voice was still booming about something in the background, but Fabrisse was now receiving:
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
You are not a recognized Arch-Level Operator.
But you hold a valid Legacy Token.
Manual override initiated.
ACCESS LEVEL: Provisional
TITLE: Apprentice – Field Calibrator, Aetheric Epoch 9
CLASSIFICATION: Inert-Adept / Unawakened
What is happening . . .
What did being a Field Calibrator even mean? Why him? Did the Eidralith scan for the person with the worst graduation odds and lowest lunch credits?
He briefly imagined himself condemned to some arcane customer service oubliette, surrounded by floating scrolls that screeched in calligraphy, tasked with ‘realigning his soul-aether ratios’ by meditating with a sacred pebble and chanting affirmations like I am one with the leyline. My innate resonance is valid.
[SYSTEM SUGGESTION: User does not meet combat or cognitive thresholds. Recommend Guided Mode.]
Would you like to activate Training Overlay?
> [Yes] [No] [Report Error]
The apparition faded just enough for him to groan, clutching his nose, which felt like it was shaped wrong now.
He blinked up at the stunned circle of robed silhouettes towering over him, mouth half-open.
“Did—did anyone else see the box fly at my face?” he croaked.
No one answered.
Except the apparition.
[SYSTEM NOTICE – Audio Feedback Engaged]
Query received: “Did—did anyone else see the box fly at my face?”
[. . .]
Response: No.
[CLARIFICATION: PRAXIS NODE Resonance Detected. ]
[CAUSE: Direct Contact with Calibrator Node. ]
[ADDENDUM: Resonance Event is currently non-replicable under sanctum conditions.]
Congratulations. You are now bound to the PRAXIS NODE Calibration System (Beta).
Please do not ingest any additional rocks.
Fabrisse stared at whatever was in front of him. Was this some kind of arcane delirium? Had he finally cracked open the latent aetheric consciousness of Stupenstone?
Is this what madness feels like? He wondered. Not terrifying, exactly—just tiring. He wanted to curl up in a nice, non-sentient boulder and wait until whatever cosmic software was piloting his brain finished installing.
But then it all made sense.
The Eidralith had reacted—not just to proximity or incantation, but to an unfiltered, messy, stochastic input. His Stupenstone. It was like a circuit completing, not a ceremony. Not reverence. Cause and effect.
Maybe it was a vessel under pressure, holding legacy code in crystalline memory and waiting for the correct chaotic impulse to crack open. But why the Stupenstone? Stupenstones are notoriously inert. This goes against his known understanding of its property.
It might not have been the stone. So what had caused this reaction?
He reached out mentally and selected the only option that made any sense whatsoever.
> Training Overlay Activated . . .
> [OBJECTIVE RECEIVED: Initiate Contact with Dormant Node “NEMESYS-LINK”]
> Distance to Target: 9.3 light-years.
> Estimated Travel Time (On Foot): ∞
Fabrisse’s mouth opened to say something, possibly profound.
Lorvan slapped him across the face.
The slap brought clarity. Specifically, the clarity of pain—The Emotional Regrounding Strike. His hand was even glowing with a tight wrap of reactive aether, like a layer of dense energy sheeting just above the skin.
“Hold it together! Don’t lose consciousness!” Lorvan said.
Fabrisse lurched back into reality just in time to realize that the Eidralith was no longer hovering majestically over the dais. It was now lying on the floor beside him, pulsing in a sympathetic rhythm to his rapidly developing migraine. The light was all but drained from the box.
He rolled onto his side.
Thaumaturges messing with uncalibrated relics likely risk mental dissociation or worse, and magical slapping was the quickest way to jolt someone out of aetheric shock. Unfortunately, Fabrisse’s shock wasn’t aetheric. It was more physics.
Around him, the congregation of mages had devolved into a huddled, stunned, and slightly scandalized knot. Archmagi, mentors, and senior acolytes now stood in a loose ring, all circling with the tense curiosity of mongooses around a snake, except they weren't sure whether he was the snake or the prey.
A murmur broke out. Then two murmurs. Then a non-specified number of murmurs.
“Did it choose him?”
“Impossible. He can’t even maintain a scry-orb.”
“He brought rocks into the sanctum again. Could it have been residual contamination? But rocks . . . they’re just rocks.”
“Did he feed the Eidralith?”
In the row of faces, Fabrisse caught sight of Valiene Veist. She looked perplexed, like she’d just seen a first-year successfully bind a hexagram with only four anchor points and was still waiting for the part where it all exploded.
What does she think of this? Will she finally think I can achieve something now?
He swallowed, biting the inside of his cheek.
“I, uh, I . . .” He turned to the nearest observer—Mentor Rubidi, whose jaw was clenched so tight she looked like she was chewing glass. “I didn’t mean to activate any epochal astral sky-thing,” Fabrisse offered. “Not without protective gloves, at least.”
“What sky-thing?” Lorvan, now having moved back to give him space, asked. His tone was too even.
Fabrisse glanced around. The glowing sigils, the floating prompts, the steadily pulsing “WELCOME, APPRENTICE KESTOVAR_28” hovering half a meter off the ground in front of him. They were all there.
No one else seemed to see them.