“Welcome back, Samuel,”

Samuel opened his eyes to find himself back in the expanse of white void. As before, he turned round to find Isip behind him, smiling expectantly, as if this meeting had been arranged for weeks. Surely a god did not meet their followers this often? Still, he gave what he thought was a graceful bow in the direction of the deity. It was hard to be sure of his movements in a space where his feet did not touch the ground.

“Hello, Isip,” He said quietly. “I’ve always wondered. Where are we?”

Isip continued to smile at him, but turned on the spot, surveying the white space as it stretched out for eternity. There was nothing around them but the god’s presence, and despite the monotone color, Samuel found it to be a very soothing place. It felt like home, though Samuel would have preferred a chair. Or at least a floor.

“This is my mind,” Isip replied calmly. “It is the place where I learn all that mankind has to offer.”

“It looks like it goes on forever,” Samuel commented.

“That is because it does. It is representative of mortals’ potential to learn. As great events transpire, more knowledge is created. When I learn it, it will be placed here. Eventually, when there is nothing left to learn, it will be full.”

“Why is it so blank?” Samuel asked, trying to peer as far as possible to see something. “Humans know a great many things already.”

“To me, it is not blank,” The god replied sadly. “I can see many things here. Your connection to me was damaged by your time in the Etherial Plane, and so you cannot see my mind.”

“Oh,” It was all he could think to say. “How do I regain that connection?”

Isip did not reply at first, his attention focused on one spot just beside him. Samuel too focused on that spot, but he could only see the white space. Isip was smiling at whatever he saw as if it was the greatest thing in the world. Suddenly disappointed, Samuel wished he could see it as well. The very idea that this place could hold all of mankind’s knowledge was an exciting one.

“Part of the solution you seek is to acquire new knowledge,” Isip explained. “The more you contribute here, the more you will learn in return.”

“I see,” Samuel said, an idea striking him. “On that note, I have some new things for you.”

Isip turned away from his vision to look at Samuel hopefully, an eager gleam in his eyes. “You have new knowledge?”

“Well,” he said slowly. “I’m not sure it counts as knowledge. It’s just a few nautical legends from the sailors I’ve met.”

“I would like to hear them.”

So Samuel began to share the legends that the sailors had shared over dinner. He recounted them exactly as the crew had done, but in his own style, what he had learned from his mother. Isip stood, or rather sat, in rapt attention, listening to every word, pressing Samuel for details. The god’s reaction to a new good story reminded him irresistably of himself as a boy.

Isip seemed to enjoy the stories greatly, but wasn’t satisfied. He queried for more information at every possibly opportunity, and Samuel was more than willing to share more of the story. After he’d finished telling those tales, glad to share, he switched to some of the legends that he’d heard growing up in Harlest. Many of them Arcana had already heard, but he listened patiently, unable to contain his excitement when Samuel shared one that he didn’t know.

A curious thing happened, just as he finished sharing the last tale. After what felt like hours, though it could have been mere minutes in his own time, Samuel registered a small movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing over, he saw the inside of a room, with a young boy laying in a comfortable looking bed as a woman read to him out of a book.

He recognized the scene at once, as it was the most fond memory he had from his childhood. Before heading to The Nook Inn for the night’s work, his mother Elena had read him stories as he went to sleep. It was those early days that had kindled his love of tales and legends, and as a result created his unending thirst to learn more.

It was another few minutes until he realized that Elena was reading the exact same legend that he’d just recounted to Arcana. Quite apart from the pleasure he felt at rememberin it perfectly, Samuel understood that this was what Isip was smiling at before. Together, the two of them watched his mother continue to read aloud as the small boy in the bed gradually fell asleep, his eyelids too heavy to stay open.

“Were you aware of me, even then?” Samuel asked quietly. “I know you were instrumental in my creation, but how much did you know of me as a child?”

“I was only able to glean the occasional detail,” the god said. He sounded morose. “I was asleep for much of those years, in an attempt to stretch out my remaining years. Even then, I could not reach you, as you were not ready.”

“Because I had not touched magic.”

“Indeed. But I could see glimpses of you, with the visions becoming more common as your mind grew.”

They fell silent again, watching the scene until the young Samuel was fully asleep. The vision lingered for a moment or two longer, as Elena smiled fondly down at her son. Then she put out the bedside candle, and was gone. Samuel wondered if she was sick even then, or if her illness had come later. He blinked rapidly as he felt tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“It is a wonderful thing,” Isip said warmly. “The way in which mortals discover, create, and share stories.”

“Is that what drew you to them at first?” Samuel asked, turning back to face the ancient being.

“It was a big part of my reasoning. I grew impatient with waiting for the stories to come to me, so I descended to the mortal plane to search for them myself.”

Samuel could understand that longing. He tried to imagine a life where he couldn’t seek new knowledge on his own, forced to wait for it to come to him, and he shuddered at the prospect. He knew exactly why Isip had come, despite the eventual cost of his actions. Still, he thought, the god had survived in the end, and could even consider the cost worth it in the end.

“I’m surprised,” he replied after a short pause. “If I were in your place, with your experience with mortals, I would grow to hate them.”

“The wanderer said something very similar,” Isip said with a nod. “But he too understood my choice to forgive them. He loves them as I do.”

Samuel wondered for a moment who the wanderer could be. His first guess would be Grimr, but Isip had alread referred to him by his actual name before, so he thought perhaps not. Just as he opened his mouth to ask who that was, Isip let out a long breath and spoke.

“Well, that is all the time we have tonight. Your traveling companions have need of you, and staying any longer will risk eternal sleep.”

Samuel pushed his question to the back of his mind for later reference, but another one occurred to him.

“I assume you know of my dream,” he said, thinking of the nightmare in which the chaotic mana had consumed him. “Was it just a dream, or should I be concerned about my future?”

Isip stared at him in silence for a long while before replying, as if weighing his words. “Be careful, young Samuel. Your connection with me allows you to see many things, but you should not seek out what you find. Enjoy your life normally, and what will come will come.”

With that, the god and his mind faded, leaving Samuel alone in his own mind. His vision was now of the wooden celing of the crew’s quarters, and he was once again aware of the gentle rocking of the boat around him. Looking around, he noticed that many of the crew were asleep, their gentle snores filling the cabin. A few sat nearby at a candle-lit table, talking quietly as they played cards.

“That looked like a pleasant dream,” a voice said from beside him. “I’ve never seen mana so calm.”

Samuel turned his head the other way to see Tobi, where he lay on a similar hanging cot by the side of the ship. The warrior was in a comfortable gray night-robe, staring over at Samuel with faint interest. None of the crew looked round as he spoke, either focused on their game or fast asleep.

“I was meeting with Arcana,” Samuel said. “He pulls me to him occasionally.”

Tobi opened his mouth to say something else, or perhaps ask another question, but he was interrupted by a shout from above deck. The crew members at the table dropped their cards at once, racing up the stairs to see what the issue was. Frowning, Samuel followed them with his eyes, wondering what was happening. Then they too shouted, and it became clear.

“Captain! Captain! Storm approaching, Captain!