Mark of Time

Counter: 4

Integrity: 96.97%

Tier: Undefined

Jennifer opened her eyes, leaning back in her chair as she set her quill down. A small sigh escaped her mouth as she closed her eyes, going through the scene once more. The strange spell she'd seen formed itself in her mind, thousands of unseen strands covering everything, with layers so deep she couldn’t even begin to see through them all.

Something is going on. The spell, and the way it seeped into the dungeon. It’s probably how the demons broke through, and if it can be interrupted, then perhaps the invasion can be stopped without needing to involve the guild directly.

Jennifer opened her eyes. A lot more thought would need to be put in, and she still had a lot more work to do. Her last week’s efforts had just been wiped clean, and she’d have to revisit the dungeon to get her gem.

She sank in her chair, trying not to think about it as she shifted to the other point of interest.

Her Aura.

A thin layer of magic surrounded her at all times, like an extension of her core’s domain. She could now channel mana outside her body as long as it was within the range of her aura. Jennifer tried to feel the new sensation. It was like a limb, but present all around her. And getting it to move felt like a newborn bird trying to fly for the first time. Unfamiliar, yet partially instinctive. There were undercurrents of magic that flowed within, as if there was a natural rhythm to its existence.

Jennifer tried to focus her aura, pointing it at her table. The ethereal vapour-like sense shifted, moving ahead as it started to coalesce around the sturdy wooden structure. Small crystalline shards of glass started to grow, forming little beads and shrapnel along its surface as her aura enveloped it. The effect was minimal, and not sustainable. The moment she let go of her focus, the aura would fluctuate and the glass would vanish.

She tried to mimic what she'd done with the [Sand Mage], honing her aura into a sharp blade, as if stabbing outwards. Her aura shifted, condensing into a single sharp point that extended a few feet from her.

She moved over, pushing her aura into her mirror. Jennifer raised her eyebrows as she started to feel the surface of the mirror in her mind. The glass felt tangible, as if a strange distant limb that she could nudge vaguely in a direction she wanted it to move.

She was still clumsy in her usage of the aura, her mind struggling to grasp the all surrounding extension of herself.

It’s like they took me, and then stretched me beyond my physical body.Jennifer paused as a realisation struck her.

Maybe auras are an extension of the soul? It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Since the mana pool is directly tied to the soul. Meaning the aura, a representation and manifestation of magic, should be as well.

Jennifer stopped for a moment, focusing on her mark as she let its presence expand. Then why is my aura separate from the Mark's presence? The mark's tied to my soul, there’s no doubt of that. If the source is the same, then how come the representation is different? Does the mark have an aura of its own?

Jennifer frowned as she thought on the topic. There wasn’t much information to base any of this off of. And she certainly wasn't qualified to postulate on the original source of magic.

Sighing, she cleared out her desk, letting her thoughts drift. Another thing to look up in the Academy’s library, I guess.

❖❖❖

Jennifer entered the smithy in her Master’s shop, who was inspecting the same ingot from a few resets back.

“Master, can you show me that?” Jennifer asked her Master. The man rubbed his beard as he hummed, staring at the ingot before handing it to her. She almost dropped the heavy ingot, taken by surprise at the weight.

I forgot he’s got [Greater Strength] on top of his ridiculous physique.

Jennifer sent her mana through the mithril ingot. A silver sheen developed on the metal from the mana flow as beautiful patterns formed in her perception. She frowned as a small crack disturbed the flow of the mana patterns in the metal, a tiny blip of disturbance in the middle.

“The metal has a fault in it,” Jennifer said, placing the heavy ingot on the anvil nearby.

Her master let out a heavy sigh, setting his hammer down. “I’d felt as such, the metal didn’t ring right.” He walked to the mithril, picking the ingot up. “How’d ye find the fault?”

“Sensed it with my mana,” she replied. I didn’t lie this time.

Haireth frowned, as he stared at the mithril in his hand. “I s’pose if yer sensitive enough. I’ll have to have someone smack the ass who's letting these through inspection.” he grumbled as he made his way back to the storage chamber, bringing back a different ingot.

“The fault was really small though. Should it matter? I barely felt it.” Jennifer asked as she took a seat nearby.

“It wouldn’t matter if it weren’t mithril lass. I use iron with minor faults all the time, or steel. Neither of those have natural mana flow to em. Ain’t nothing to worry about, some minor faults. Mithril though, needs to be one pure block. It can’t have a fault or the thing cracks open like a broken egg. Ye can’t meld mithril back over and over. Ye get one try. So the bloody idiot who forged that ingot either needs to be demoted down to Steel rank, or the [Traders] they let in after I left are too occupied sleeping with their gold to do any work.”

“Why did you leave the guild in the first place? Craftsmen rarely leave. And wasn't the guild mad to lose a Mithril rank smith?” Jennifer asked.

“Hah, as if those fools could stop me. I left the guild to rot by the depths as it was so eager to at the time. They took the high craftsman, and removed their powers, handing it to the [Merchants]. The inner circle wished to establish a monopoly in Lienmont. Of course their foolish plan never worked. The man behind it should be rotting in a prison somewhere. The guild may throw its weight around, but high levelled craftsmen are highly sought after. And the guild aren't the only ones hiring. I had many offers. The old timers from the Dwarven murks were the only ones who didn’t invite me,” Haireth said with a snort, as he took out his hammer and started working on the new ingot.

Could it be that simple? No. Master may be high ranked, but that doesn't explain why he was so confident standing against the Ranked adventurers when I revealed my mark.

Jennifer eyed her master. She'd never pried into his life much. He was old, older than he looked. As was the case with all Dwarves. Her master had gotten a portion of that longevity, despite being half blood.

She watched him work, sitting idly as she tried to gauge the right time was to talk with him.

“Master, I have something to tell you,” Jennifer spoke as Haireth paused in his hammering.

“Seeing how yer stopping me as I work. I assume this isn’t some small mischief ye’ve been up to,” Haireth said, turning to look at her.

Jennifer shook her head, letting out a slight sigh as she gathered her mana. She extended her hand, allowing the glass mana to collect as it formed a shard.

“I awakened to glass affinity,” Jennifer replied with a slight smile as her Master stared at the glass shard floating above her hand.

“When and how?” her master said, setting his hammer down as he walked towards her.

“I’m not sure. I think, around three months ago, a bit more. I also have this now,” Jennifer said, flaring her [Aura of Glass]. The ethereal aura spread out, meeting her Master’s.

Jennifer’s eyes opened wide in surprise.

Her master’s aura was one of runes and magic, of fire and metals. She could feel his presence, much much larger than her own, much more controlled. And in the ethereal magical threads of his aura she could hear the faint ringing of his hammer.

“What… is going on lass?” Haireth asked, still staring at her.

“A lot. So much. Too much maybe. I’ll tell you everything. But first, let's head inside and set up some wards. I won’t be taking chances this time around.”

❖❖❖

Haireth took a large gulp from one of his stashed bottles of the murk's dark ale. His Dwarven blood may not be thick, but his love for a rich ale had run thicker than even the dwarves' a lifetime ago. He stared at Jennifer, the lass having changed so much in what felt like a single night. Almost a completely different person, sitting still and calm instead of practically leaping from her seat. None of the nervous energy that used to run through her.

“I guess, it ain’t been just a couple of days fer ya,” Haireth muttered and the lass nodded.

He swore curses at the murken gods. Not having muttered the name even once. The deep downers would know of what he did. They always did when the gods' names were evoked. He’d hear no end of it if he were to ever visit the murks again, but Haireth couldn’t care less right now.

“Three months I think? I died early in some resets so the days are vague,” Jennifer said, staring at him as if she wasn’t implying horrible suffering. He knew enough about death to know it was rarely pleasant.

Haireth closed his eyes, trying to sort through everything the girl had told him. He leaned back on his years of discipline, trusting them to keep him calm.

“Why’d you tell me all this, this time then? Ye don’t plan to stop the invasion this time around, or ye wouldn’t be sitting here, would ye?” Haireth asked, watching as the girl looked down, her fists clenched.

“Well, it's tough. Really tough. Not being able to talk about anything. That monster makes me paranoid. I keep wanting to rush to the guild and shout about everything I’ve seen. Tell them about the plans the demons are plotting. But I still don’t know nearly enough. And I can’t tell when the mark might be watching me. Or who it's pretending to be.” Haireth watched the girl sitting there. He saw a child, the same child he’d been teaching for years now. The bright girl who’d loved her enchanting books and dreamt of joining the academy to help her father out.

Haireth cursed internally once more. To put such responsibilities on the shoulder of a child, what a pitiful sight for the entire city. He looked up at the girl, sensing her wavering aura. If he focused, he could sense the affinity core in her abdomen. Pure transparent glass with jagged shards jutting out, covered in blue crystalline light and motes of blood.

“Yer a strong girl, lass, a very strong girl. And I do not mean to talk about the absurd growth ye’ve had. Yer heart’s what’s done me proud. A single death makes the strongest warriors tremble, for it is a dark and cold thing. The many many tales of alchemists chasing after an elixir of immortality show just that. To have faced death so many times is no small feat Jennifer. Even if ye know ye can come back, that can't remove the terror the death instills in yer heart.” Haireth paused, watching the girl, staring at her.

He sighed, getting up and walking closer to the lass. Then he bent down, and flicked her forehead.

“Ouch,” she said, clutching her head.

“What, ye thought I’d keep consoling ye? Hah, we ain’t got the time for that lass. Ye’re stuck in a heap of problems, much bigger than ye are. What's the solution then?”

The girl stared at him, her eyes searching for an answer on his face. Haireth kept his face impassive, giving her no clue. “Keep trying till you win?”

“Not a wrong answer, but few have the luxury to keep trying forever. No, the answer is simpler than that. If yer problem is bigger than ye, then either get bigger to fight back, or set something even bigger and sic it onto the source of yer problems.” Haireth said, staring at the dumbfounded girl.

“The demons are big problems aren’t they? Well, then what is bigger than the demons? Something that's been at their throat for millennia,” Haireth asked, as he felt his discipline slip away, his heart beating nervously as if he were a wee lad himself.

“I.. don’t know. The Alliance?” Jennifer asked, staring at him.

Haireth laughed at the girl, patting her head. “The Alliance is but a few centuries old. Not small, but it isn’t what we need child. No. The biggest needle in the demon’s throat is the church itself,” Haireth exclaimed as he heard the girl take a sharp intake of breath, her aura unsettled as it flared.

“You want to get Sera involved?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Oh I don’t plan to get her involved, I bet she has her pretty divine hands already mixed in this murky trial of yours. No. I’ll get the whole pantheon up. The five gods of the soaring heavens and the stone watchers down under. What ye’ve described is the second coming of the Founding wars, the cornerstone on which the continent was settled. If the demon's plan is to break the order, then we need to fight back just as hard.”

He saw the girl gulp as she stared at him. A small chuckle built up, Haireth couldn't help himself with how transparent her aura was. Fitting, seeing how it was glass.

“Now come, we have much to work on. For as long as I remember anyways. If I could, I'd wish ye no more deaths before my own. But shame fills my heart that I cannot promise such. I’ve been in this little corner of mine far too long, content to peacefully spend my days building something of my own. Nay, I can’t let ye take the burden alone child,” Haireth said, turning towards Jennifer. He took a step back when the girl suddenly hugged him, burying her face in his broad shoulders.

“Thank you master,” she whispered. Haireth sighed as he patted her back.

“It’s alright lass, ye’ve done well. We’ll figure it out. And you’ll be our key in winning this battle. Now cheer up, there’s much to do. And I want to inspect that mark of yers. Don’t trust any depth forsaken mark. But before any of that. We need to work on yer aura. Yer like an open book waiting to be read with that thing pouring off of you.”

Jennifer nodded, sniffing as she pulled away, and Haireth felt a pang of pain travel in his chest. What a world, to have to rely on such a child to save a city. He turned around, looking at the mithril ingot lying on the anvil when an idea struck him.

“I know just the thing for ye lass,” he said, a rumbling note in his voice as excitement filled him. He turned around, picking the Mithril up and handing it to the girl.

“Let’s teach ye how to make Metal Glass,” he said, laughing at the sufficiently concerned expression on the girl’s face at his amusement. She knew him well.

But he knew her too. She'd learn. Oh yes, the lass would learn.