Episode 01 - Ch 05: Luck

Sylvara couldn’t believe her luck. First she’d gotten lost in the forest and wandered for three days in endless loops around the region’s world tree, never arriving at her destination. The ancient, sprawling tree towered over everything, its roots like the knotted fingers of giants crisscrossing over and into the forest floor.

She didn’t like being near it, something about the ancient tree didn’t feel right, as if it was somehow foreign not only to the rest of the forest but this world. She wondered if it was the reason her kingstone was acting so strange. Then when she finally spotted some shelter, a poorly-built treehouse albeit, she found it long desserted and the wood rotted. Still, it was better than nothing for a night’s rest. Not that she would sleep. She rarely slept.

Except she did that night. For a minor chant before she’d been woken by the sound of some dying animal. It turned out to be a local farm boy crying about his dead sibling. At least it meant a village was nearby. Maybe Sylvara could find some answers there the next day. She was just about to ask the boy for directions and send him off with a Haze when her kingstone nudged her again.

She didn’t understand it. It was the type of nudge that always made her feel a little queasy. But it had to mean something, didn’t it? Or maybe the kingstone had finally broken. The damned charm tied around her rib cage had pushed her in a new direction every day across the forest with no destination reached.

She had dropped down from the tree for a closer look, and standing before him, she sensed that there was indeed something unusual about the boy. And that didn’t come from the kingstone, it came from her gut, which was something she trusted even more than the charm. For one, the boy wasn’t a boy at all, but a man, or at least he was a boy in a man’s body.

Bright Heleric, he’s big, Sylvara thought. He was a full head taller than her, and she was tall even among other ascendant women. His shoulders tugged tightly at his tunic around the chest and his arms, as if they were ready to burst at any moment. She could smell wood dust and dried sweat on him, and she could imagine those strong, rough farmer hands around her waist.

He’d be good for a toss, I bet. Too bad he’s a dirthand.

But there was something else about the young man. Something hidden inside him. She could sense that his arcavoir was miniscule without even reaching out with her arcumen. Too miniscule.

“Say,” she said, leaning even closer to him, letting her arcumen expand from her body and wrap around him. “You wouldn’t be dampening your arcana right now, would you?”

The boy froze and she could sense his fear. Had she guessed correctly?

"No, High One… I wouldn't even know how."

"Oh?" Sylvara intoned. "Surely you know how to cast a spell, though. Tell me what you know."

The boy swallowed. "Yes, High One. I know a wood cutting spell."

Sylvara gestured to the trunk of the tree that held the treehouse. He could not dampen his arcavoir and cast a spell at the same time. "Demonstrate."

"I-I can't."

Sylvara scowled, but upon looking at his terrified face with his eyes locked on the tree trunk, she realized the boy likely didn't have a spell that could cut through so thick a tree. He had said "wood cutting spell" after all, not "tree cutting spell."

A smile formed on her lips. "Magic is faith, little friend. Strong belief ensures a strong spell. Don't fret, just give it your best."

Aelric shifted uncomfortably under Sylvara's intense gaze. His hands came together and his fingers rubbed against each other. "I'm out of arcana," he mumbled, eyes downcast.

Sylvara's brow twisted upward in disbelief. What kind of absolute fool would drain their entire arcavoir and leave themselves completely vulnerable? It wasn't just dangerous, it slowed down one’s arcumen, which meant one would have less arcana regenerated for the next day.

Before Aelric could react, her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. She pushed her own arcana into his body, ready to flood him with a tenth of her reserves. The Dawnmere's arcavoir could already be boundless by this age.

But something strange happened. Instead of the typical rush of arcana she expected to transfer, nothing happened. Her arcana has not left her body and entered into his.

No, that wasn't quite right. She sensed that exactly two arcas had transferred. Even an untrained mage always knew how many arcas were left in their arcavoir.

Sylvara stared at Aelric wide eyed, and then she burst into laughter. Not a gentle chuckle, but a full-bodied, sharp-edged laugh that rang through the forest. She had to grab onto his shoulder to keep herself from falling over as she chortled. He seemed to stare at her in confusion which only made her laugh even harder.

This boy, the Dawnmere? It took her two more spells to regain her breath.

“Great gods,” she gasped. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with a lower arcavoir than you. Are you sure you’re even alive?”

The young man frowned. He looked both hesitant and upset. “What is an arcavoir?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You aren’t serious,” she said. “Do they not give you any schooling at all?”

The young man’s frown deepened. “I went to school. Nearly every weekend before I turned ten.”

“Every weekend before you turned ten,” Sylvara repeated rubbing her head. These shadebloods really are toads.

“Your arcavoir is the breadth of your wellspring—” she saw the confused look on his face and sighed heavily. “It means it’s the amount of magic you can carry at any moment.”

“That’s not–” he paused and seemed to correct his statement. “I thought that was arcumen.”

“What back-ass golem-brained learning are they teaching here? Arcumen is your true arcane ability. Your inherent arcane power. It is what replenishes you each day so you may use arcana again. Its capability to replenish you—the amount it can replenish—is immutable once you become an adult. Immutable means unchangeable.”

"I know what immutable means."

"Yeah, sure you do. Just like you know the fact your arcumen doesn't grow past adulthood."

“I knew that…” the boy frowned but his voice was quiet. “Everyone knows that.”

Actually one's arcumen stopped growing in truth even before adulthood. Usually by the age of sixteen, one’s arcumen became solidified.

But not for the Dawnmere, Sylvara thought, his arcumen would grow each year, even after adulthood.

Although now she was seriously doubting there was any chance the Dawnmere was here in this backwater village. This lad's arcavoir was two arcas, unaltered, which meant his arcumen was the same.

Unlike one’s arcumen, one’s arcavoir could be raised by a variety of methods, but it was unlikely that the farmer boy had the means to access them. And there was really no point expanding one’s arcavoir other than to hide a measly arcumen. It was a practice this lad could certainly benefit from.

Sylvara shook her head. His level of arcumen was probably the norm here. No chance there was some hidden prodigy expanding their arcumen every season even into adulthood. Sylvara didn’t even know a spell that cost only two arcana to cast. She was certain of it now, her kingstone was broken.

But just as she had this thought, her kingstone nudged her again. In a new direction, away from the young man. Sylvara sighed. It was the direction back into the woods. She was seriously considering just heading back to the capital. But the thought of The Mother’s eyes on her precluded that path. She shivered. She knew she could not return until she turned every stone and leaf in the cursed forest.

She patted the young lad on his shoulder. “You’d better head along home, now,” she said. “Tell your parents to get their hands on some arca berries. That’s not an arcumen you want people finding out about.”

“Y-you aren’t going to kill me?”

Sylvara snorted and then smiled. Now what made him think she was a killer? She’d been a little antagonistic, sure. But she did nothing to suggest murder. The lad was sharper than he let on. “What would be the reason? I only kill when it’s necessary.”

The young man’s eyes widened, and she got another laugh out of it as she pointed her command finger into the air. She drew a circle made of a black shimmering arcana and conjured the summoning circle, holding it into her hand.

“Demon Tongue, Haze.”

Screeching laughter spilled out from her hand and a long blood-red tentacle lifted out of the circle as if it came through a doorway to another place. It rose and bent, revealing a face that contained a mouth but no eyes at its tip. The mouth was still laughing.

Then it whispered something that Sylvara did not hear. Her summoning circle protected her from it.

The young man shuddered and his eyes glazed over. Sylvara collapsed the circle, the tentacle snapping back through the circle just before Sylvara's fingers closed together. She took Aelric by the shoulders and spun him around. Then she gave him a light push and he took a few shaky steps forward, steadying himself before wandering off into the night.

Sylvara could only cast an average Haze, but the spell would likely last for a week, or until something sparked the memory of this event in the lad.

She shook her head again, and watched him go for a moment. A familiar thought sprang into her mind.

Some existences just aren’t worth living.

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✣✣✣ END OF EPISODE ONE ✣✣✣

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