Hope

Irwyn awoke with a twisting sensation in his gut. It was still the middle of the night, though he did not know how long before dawn.

And something was wrong, very wrong. He remembered the Dream, or at least the beginning of it. Once again, his mind struggled against remembering senses he never had though perhaps less than before. Irwyn recalled the grief, the certainty of crippling loss. Then the decree of Logos, the duty bestowed. The onset of despair…

And then it was blank. The events slipped his mind after that cyclic certainty that nothing was right, just a feeling of wrongness. Everything gone. No… not everything… he recalled... lifeless gray eyes, staring.

Irwyn shivered at the half-present memory, failing to come up with any more details. For all he was certain that this vision has been different from the last 2, he could not point out exactly why. He struggled against the impossible recollection a bit longer and then finally gave up.

Instead, he focused on what he could recall. A scene following perhaps mere moments of the First Betrayal. The last words of Logos, post mortem as they were. And then the Nine who arrived.

Irwyn reached for his Book of the Name to check again what he already suspected. 9 figures, including himself in that vision, and a tenth name. That name had not been mentioned in the book, but there was a quote that could belong to no other.

‘You may have felled me but enough it shall be not. We each have sworn, engraved it upon the father’s gift. To never forget. To never forgive. From the frailest to the greatest we shall never stop. Never waver. Until all is dust.’

For those were the words spoken by the Betrayer’s champion - The Book of the Name said that much clearly - in the final day of the Great Crusade, their name supposedly forbidden and forgotten.

And now Irwyn knew it. Az’Morgis. He dared not actually speak it out loud. Nor did he know what it meant, even though it had to have a meaning. As far as he understood it, all Names had a linguistic meaning which represented what they meant; of course, this was his own conjecture from various hints and scrapes of knowledge but it did make sense. It was just that not all of them used the same tongue. Irwyn’s understanding in the area had expanded greatly as of late thanks to the many textbooks provided to him, one even dedicated solely to the topic.

For example, Ignis’ Name was in what the scholars called the ‘original tongue’. The language that predated Time and it was a topic of dispute and intense discussion whether it had only been spoken by the Aspects themselves or if some of the eldest beings around may still understand it fully. What was known about the tongue was that it was exceptionally potent for magic, that is, if one could form a spell around it. The issue with that was that spells still had to rhyme and the words in them had to make grammatical and linguistic sense, not to mention be appropriate for the caster. That was difficult to achieve in a tongue no one spoke and only the occasional word was either uncovered in primordial texts or stumbled upon by scholars literally just putting haphazard syllables together and seeing if magic reacted to them in any way; an unpopular task on behalf of being arduous and potentially unrewarded. There had also, notably, been no examples given.

Next was what many called the ‘second tongue’ or ‘mortal tongue’. It was the most widespread language and also one Irwyn spoke. Apparently, the vast majority of mortal species and civilizations adapted it, with the occasional minimal variation. There were exceptions, of course, however, in most realms if you approached a mortal on a street or a road, there was a 99 in a 100 chance that it was the only language they spoke. It was also considered the most practical tongue for general magic, the reasons for which were theorized but generally unconfirmed.

Not the best one for everything though. Discounting the Original tongue that no one spoke, there were other notable ones because they had been created, or at least supported, by Aspects while they had lived and thus empowered the magic of those aspects. The Void had Umbra’s tongue, apparently known by Demons and Elves. Vitaros, the aspect of Life, had created another language that only the Fae could speak. Not because of secrecy but because it obeyed such strange rules only the fae were capable of learning its intricacies. There were supposedly also tongues created by Logos and Chronos, though few details were written about them considering those rarely appeared anywhere near mortal inhabited realms.

Irwyn returned to the Book of the Name and searched for the other Nine he had seen in the vision. The point of view he had held could only be Ignis Lumen, the prodigal son of Fatherflame and the Lightmother; if only because of the brother, who could only be Ignis Umbra. It also meant that the previous visions were likely from the same perspective. Two out of the three were certain and the third was very possible which at the very least implied it had been the case.

Next, Irwyn searched his memory while referencing the Book of the Name. And soon enough, he was able to find out more about the other 7 that had arrived.

The Construct of omniscient stone could only be Golem, as the Name went. Firstborn of Logos, and apparently the greatest prophet still alive. Irwyn found a bit of trivia that the word for golems used in the mortal tongue came from this Name and that Golem had ‘gone to fight the Betrayer’s rot to places unknown’. Once again, Irwyn was reaffirmed in his realization that although the author of the Book of the Name was knowledgeable beyond any mortal, they were not omniscient. There were things left unmentioned for the author had simply not known them.

The Avatar of Sin was clearly Abaxoth. In Umbra’s tongue it loosely translated to Sinlord, though not in the mortal understanding of the word ‘lord’. Much like Logos’ title was ‘The Wiselord’, it proclaimed superiority and exceptionalism rather than simple nobility. The Book of the Name was sparse in details about them though, merely that he could be considered the closest thing the Void had to a ruler in the wake of the Aspects’ deaths.

The Wings of Virtue bore a far more blatant Name, simply Virtue. On them, the Book had far more to say. They described them as a being of seven faces, surrounded by seven rings of light, 21 pairs of pearly wings sprouting from said rings, each glowing with a burnished glaze. Virtue was a being of seemingly unending altruism, supposedly traveling from realm to realm, curing woe and misery from mortal hearts wherever they trod. There were anecdotes mentioning them, though Irwyn did not opt for a re-reading of those.

The Tree grasping for Every Form Irwyn did not have to search for particularly hard, finding the Name Bregdrassil; loosely translated as either Tree of Change or Shifting Tree. It was an easy search because Irwyn had already stumbled upon it when looking for whatever the Book spoke of about the Fae in the wake of his own forest encounter. The Tree of Change was apparently gargantuan beyond comprehension, trillions upon trillions of city-sized or larger leaves growing from its branches and boughs. And each of those leaves contained a permutation of life; a semi-confined ecosystem of the most fantastical creatures that could somehow still live. From monsters to animals and sometimes even humanoid beings, the tree pursued Change, and change it brought: By tossing its leaves haphazardly across the tapestry of Realms and Dimensions. From time to time such a leaf landed in just about every Plane. Sometimes the leaf’s inhabitants could not adapt and died out. Sometimes they fought the natives of their new home to the death and prevailed, claiming a piece of that Plane as their own. Though it rarely happened on the individual scale. After all, although the shed leaves were beyond count, there were a thousand times as many Planes scattered across the Universe. By chance Irwyn might never see it drop even in his greatly expanded lifespan; or stumble upon two in a week knowing his luck.

The Serpent without Beginning or End was the next Irwyn looked into. That one was a bit more difficult to find in the Book; though eventually, Irwyn figured what was probably right. It spoke of a Snake tasked with guarding the River of Time, Chronos’ great creation which ensured that Time itself flowed linearly everywhere at once; and that interrupting that flow was far more difficult than it would otherwise be. Bezkonec was the snake’s Name, loosely meaning infinity, though no more was written down.

Realm in Flesh did not ring a bell at first, second or third search; but eventually Irwyn found a mention of something like that. Not a direct description, nor a Name, but it had been part of an anecdote. It spoke of a man who - after a series of unfortunate and aggravating events - had asked to world itself to just swallow him whole and be done with their miserable existence. ‘And the world obeyed, for it was alive. One among few, it heard the words spoken and followed, for it knew little of death and harm but sought to render aid where asked when a whisper reached its numb ears. And for a world it was the simplest thing to tear into itself a ridge; a sundered abyss so deep the bottom was obscured by shadow even in the midday sun. And thus the man plunged, helped as he had asked, nevermore seen again’. It wasn’t much but it told Irwyn there was most likely living Realms of some kind out there; Irwyn was curious if his one was such a case. That was beyond his ability to confirm though; discounting any attempts to recreate the anecdote.

And then there was the last one which genuinely stumped Irwyn. The Dragon who Refused, his vision had told him. But what could that mean? The Book mentioned Dragons. The mightiest of monsters, great creatures that could burn whole nations to the ground in the worst cases. An anecdote was told of slaying one such beast, its claws then used to forge 20 exceptional swords that could cut any magic in twain. But no Names. Not a single mention more specific than this or that calamities caused by dragons. And it made sense in all honesty. Because dragons, albeit mighty, were monsters. And monsters did not possess souls. Those were undeniable facts. And without souls, they lacked the capacity for greater intelligence, remaining a barely sentient creatures of aggressive instincts without the capability to truly think or plan. So then, how could a Dragon ever obtain a Name?

And yet, that particular Dragon was mentioned alongside all the others. Some of them undeniably firstborn creations of the Aspects, if not all; that would be a sensible pattern. All Irwyn could guess was that this Dragon was perhaps the progenitor of its whole kind, personally created by the Toolbearer Aspect himself. Perhaps even the very first monster. And yet it remained a mystery.

Irwyn put down the Book and thought. He could not write the information down, though he trusted himself to remember it; among other things, the magic enhancing his cognition was kindly also improving his already excellent memory. At first, he was caught in wonder at seeing those legends, even if the memory was damaged beyond proper recall. But then something important occurred to him.

Why had he seen that vision in particular?

After last time, Irwyn had a strong suspicion the visions were not just random. His strongest clue were the Kobolds. The vision showed him, explicitly mentioned, that Kobolds become far more powerful in numbers and not even a month later Irwyn had an encounter with a horde of them just before his arrival in Abonisle. That was information that he would not have known otherwise and not having it would have most likely lead him down towards different decisions, perhaps resulting even in death at the hands of the 3 giants - merged from thousands of their brethren - crushing him underfoot like a pest.

The first, original, vision had been less apparent in its purpose. It could have been that seeing the spell first-hand allowed him to buy time for Waylan and Rainer to escape. Or perhaps it was because it spoke of Names, leading him towards some other choices he would have otherwise missed; or perhaps he had actually missed out on whatever it had been trying to help him with, if it wasn't just awakening him to Starfire. There was nothing he could specifically pinpoint what had been its exact purpose.

But he thought it was still more likely than not that the visions he had seen were supposed to give him a specific insight that would become useful afterward. Therefore he could not dismiss whatever lesson it had been attempting to teach him.

The issue was, a big chunk of the vision was missing from Irwyn’s memories; perhaps more than half thought that sounded unlikely. Still, Irwyn had no way of telling if the warning or lesson was even present in what his memory had retained. However, he would figure out what he could. There were several possibilities coming to mind:

It could do with Undead. This, after all, spoke of the First Betrayal, the origin of the Undead hate for the living. That either meant that the attack at Abonisle somehow involved an undead element or there was something else brewing he could not see. Probably the latter considering the attack seemed most likely to have been caused by a particularly skilled Time mage. He would need to keep an eye out for any traces though.

Next important point was the mention of the Nine. Could it be he would encounter someone connected to them? Or perhaps just someone knowledgeable about their ways; maybe worshipping them. He was unsure how to prepare for that besides reading up on the lore from the Book of the Name and perhaps asking whether Elizabeth could provide something else.

Maybe… it could be about grief. Denial and loss. That had been part of the vision as well after all, maybe even the biggest one. Though Irwyn hoped that was not the case. The closest person to him in Abonisle was almost certainly Elizabeth and although he was not completely sure how close they would really be if push came to shove anything bad happening to her could be disastrous for him.

The last, though by far the least likely option, was the mention of fragments. Fragments of The Aspects. Irwyn could not fathom how he could possibly be dragged into something involving them, though, in all fairness, he knew practically nothing about them. Not in the Book, nor in anything else he had read. This vision had been the first time he had learned of such things existing. He imagined that any remnants of the very architects of reality would be incredibly rare and jealously hoarded though. Possibly none present in their whole Realm.

In the end, Irwyn did not know. He would keep an open mind and be prepared to adapt and that was about all he could do at the moment. That and improve.

Which brought Irwyn to the next major thing that was at the back of his mind. His first vision had, without a doubt, drastically improved his ability to wield magic. For one reason or another, besides attaining Starfire Irwyn had shot forward by a massive leap that day. And about a week afterward he had encountered a second vision. Unfortunately, that week had been hectic, to the point Irwyn had not properly tested his limits before the second vision; not to mention that without the ability to imbue more than one intent at the time it was difficult to test his actual capability. Therefore, he did not know whether he had improved notably after the second vision. Well, nowadays, Irwyn had a solid grasp on his capabilities. On his limits.

Now to see if he could break them.

He did not hesitate, a thin rod of solid golden flames manifesting above his palm. It obscured, hid, retained and dimmed. Not anything useful for combat or practical really. But he was testing and tossing around significant quantities of mana in doing so. Better to have his magic focused on not being spotted by someone looking for particularly strong signatures; or just noticing bright light in the middle of the night. Perhaps he was being overly cautious but it cost him nothing to act this way and it was a habit at that point.

Of course, Irwyn did not stop at one. He continued on to make two, three and then four. That would have been his confident limit the day prior. At his best, Irwyn might or might not be able to maintain five constructs with four intentions. On Dervish’s advice he had opted not to push that boundary quite yet before. Now he did, for he felt it was different. Four spells with four intents would have strained his mind to the brink but that was not what he was experiencing at the moment. Yes, the strain was there. It was noticeable and significant.

But it was not overwhelming, not taking up every mote of focus Irwyn could muster.

Five and six went, so did seven and eight. Eventually, Irwyn stared in amazement as the ninth rod of brilliant flame manifested in front of him, finally reaching his limit; though he knew it was not that far from ten.

From four to nine, more than doubling his capacity.

Of course, it was not quite as simple as calling it doubling. Power was - as both Dervish and the textbooks agreed on - easier to grasp the more one already held. At his current level at least, progressing from being able to use six spells instead of five with a certain number of concepts was significantly easier than getting from one to two. Four to nine still remained a gargantuan leap though. Irwyn could, realistically, even attempt five concept spells, a goal that had seemed months away before.

He didn’t, at least not at the moment. The minimal requirement was technically speaking five because of the inevitable multiplication, however, for the first attempt that was completely unrealistic. Rather, anything below eight was almost dangerous. With nine Irwyn was probably in the clear and wouldn’t hit himself with some kind of backlash but it was still better to wait for supervision.

That reminded him… he was going to need to explain this to Elizabeth and Dervish somehow. That was a whole can of worms he would have to consider. At least he had a few days to decide on what course of action to take there; Irwyn had no faith he could hide this leap in capability from the brutal trainer.

He shook his head and looked at the nine rods again. They had taken a significant amount of magic to manifest and ever more each second they remained under his direct control. And Irwyn was counting, not quite doing math so much as comparing how much mana each should have costs and then simply multiplying by six.

About ten percent, he realised with very pleased surprise. If what he was feeling was correct, the capacity of his Vessel had improved by additional ten percent over what it had been before. And the mana he could hold had apparently already been monstrous for his age, completely eclipsing even a prodigy of House Blackburg like Elizabeth. Frankly, Irwyn had already been struggling to properly utilize the sheer quantity. But that was something he was working on and would continue to do so. And it didn’t hurt to have deeper reserves.

And then Irwyn realised the first rays of sunlight were reaching his window, reflected manyfold from walls and barely perceptible. He had not been able to immediately tell as Abonisle shone even in the night to a certain degree, however, it was becoming clearer by the moment it was dawn.

Well, Irwyn’s head was still full of thoughts, however, those could be considered on the way to his appointment.