Surprisingly, I did not wake immediately after my visit with the Goddess. No, it was morning when I finally opened my eyes, and I had received that dream in the early hours of my sleep, as I could still faintly recall the separate, completely normal dream I had been having just prior to waking. Something to do with birds and tar pits.

It was only after a few moments of shaking off the morning haze that my dream with Auriel returned to my mind, in surprising clarity. I took a moment to go over it, and upon recalling the portion where I gained new tattoos, glanced down at my hands. Indeed, upon each finger lay a new rune, identical to those bestowed upon my during the dream visit. This fact alone was enough to convince me of the reality of said visit. I could feel a connection to these runes, similar to the one I felt to the tattoos along my back and arms, but this connection felt more fully formed. I tentatively focused my will upon that connection, and suddenly felt a small drain upon the wellspring of power inside me. Sparks of electricity sprang into being at my fingertips, and I inherently knew that I could shape them into any form of magic I so desired.

Satisfied that the gift Auriel had given me worked, I released the connection and the sparks ceased. I then continued to go over the visit, finally recalling the Goddess’s departing words. I felt myself go cold as I remembered what she had called me. Divine channeller. That was a title I still remembered, a title and a curse. The title did not denote a type of spellcaster, such as wizard or warlock, but rather was a description of a specific way a sorcerer gained their font of power. Divine channellers gained their powers via a blessing from the gods, making them somewhat akin to a non-martial paladin. However, they had neither the paladin’s oath nor the cleric’s faith, giving them little in the way of restraints when it came to using their powers.

But the most troubling part about divine channellers was not their nature, but their history. Some centuries past, a decree was passed down from the Triumvirate and spread amongst the mortal believers - no more divine channellers would be blessed. They were to be considered the ultimate heretics, and any lesser divinity that ignored that decree soon found their chosen channellers hunted down and slain.

The decree was necessary because, due to the lack of anything binding divine channellers to their god’s will, they were prone to going mad with power. As they had their own personal wellsprings of divine power, they were able to grow in strength enough to rival the very gods that blessed them. In fact, seven times throughout the history of the realm divine channellers sought to usurp one god or another, and thrice had they succeeded.

So what would possess one of the three Gods of the Triumvirate to break the very decree they once passed down? Was my life truly so precious as to merit such a thing? Could it have been the nature of the Open Greater Pact spell that forced her into such a decision? If so, what was to keep Auriel from smiting me where I stand? Was the spell so powerful as to assure her protection even after she had saved me?

I rubbed my temples, stopping that line of thought. Such questioning would get me nowhere. I rose from the bed, glancing once more at my reflection in the mirror as I ordered my thoughts. I focused upon the facts I knew.

I was blessed by the Goddess Auriel, who I knew to be Auriel because, as a part of the underlying nature of their beings, Gods and Goddesses did not misname themselves.

I now had the displeasure to belong to a select group of people whom the major churches actively hunt and eliminate as heretics, though Auriel’s reasons behind inducting me into said group remained unclear.

I was once a wizard, but am now a sorcerer, and have been blessed by Auriel again to aid me in the use of my sorcery powers.

My amnesia was lost due to the Open Greater Pact spell, and apparently cannot be returned due. Or Auriel is lying to me, but I could think of no reason for a god of the Triumvirate to lie to a single mortal.

And, finally, there was a town three days west from here by the name of Platston. There, five days from now, I could find a party of adventurers that would in some way aid me. Auriel was vague about why, but given the time constraints I wasn’t surprised.

I thought about Platston. It would be fine as a first destination, even if I didn’t decide to meet up with the adventurers. I could use it as a reason for my departure, and it wasn’t like I had a better idea of a first target. Hell, I didn’t even know what country I was in at the moment. Perhaps a map was in order…

Shrugging, I glanced about the room, grabbed the dagger and shield I had left leaning against the wall, then made my way out of my room and downstairs. The sun was just drawing into the sky as I stepped out of the inn. I had asked and been informed by the innkeep that the town of Tattlebrook had neither a horse nor a mapmaker, a saddening revelation. That meant my journey would be on foot, a thought I did not relish. As I made my way down the uncrowded road, I stopped upon hearing a call of “Masta’ mage! Masta’ mage!” coming from behind me. Turning around, I was greeted by the same guardsman I had spoken to the night before. He looked much worse for the wear, likely due to his apparent lack of sleep. Settling back into the the persona I had adopted last night, I arched an eyebrow.

He visibly flinched at my displeasure. “P-please, masta’ mage, I don’t wish ta delay ye, but the mayor wanted to thank ye for yer aid. He were h-hopin’ to meet wit’ ye b-before ye left. W-would ye m-m-mind?” The man seemed to shrink inwards under my gaze, his stutter growing progressively worse. Inwardly I marveled at how much I had cowed the man from my performance the evening before. He had transformed from a standoffish thug to a quivering puddle of a man. Unless… Ah! That actually made more sense. Perhaps he had been the one to investigate the cult’s lair. Attributing the destruction wrought there to my magical powers would definitely make a more sensible explanation for his sudden timidity. But I was getting sidetracked.

I considered his message. While it’s true that I did not desire to stick around very long, a reward would certainly not be unwelcome. I had little in the way of personal possessions at the moment, and while my current persona could not rightly ask for a monetary reward, perhaps this mayor could solve either of the map or horse dilemmas I had recently come upon?

“Alright,” I nodded, “I will see your mayor. But we must go, now. I assume that is not a problem?”

“N-no!” the guardsmen’s face lit up upon seeing me not displeased by his message. I don’t know what he was so afraid of. I wasn’t particularly miffed by his attitude last night, nor am I the type to ‘shoot the messenger.’ Or, at least, I’m not now. Who knows what I was like before yesterday?

The guard quickly turned away, moving with haste back towards the center of the village, and I followed, at a slower pace that the guard soon realized and matched. The mayor’s house was only a few houses down from the tavern, actually, and looked no larger or grander than the other buildings on its street. The guard went up to the door and knocked, shouting, “Mayor Brandley, I’ve brought master mage!”

WIthin seconds, the door swung open, revealing a balding, slightly overweight man well past middle age. He bustled out of the house, saying, “Ah, master wizard, glad am I to see yer return.” He offered a hand to me.

Well, it appears past me interacted with this guy. Means I have to cut this conversation short. I shook his hand, saying, “Indeed, I have returned successful, but unfortunately cannot delay. Word had come that there is something brewing in the town of Platston that needs my attention posthaste.”

“I see, I see, of course, master wizard, I would never seek to delay ye,” the man professed. “I only wanted to offer ye our sincerest thanks for ridding us of that wretched Doom Cult and ask if there were anything we might grant ye as a reward? I’m afraid we haven’t much in the way of rewards hereabouts, but…” he trailed off, looking at me with questioning eyes.

I paused, putting a pondering expression upon my face. A moment later I said, as if I had just thought of the idea, “Oh, actually, there is something you might provide me. As I said, I am needed in Platston as soon as possible and, while, normally I would just conjure a portal to take me there, I fear all my reagents were destroyed during my battle with the Doom Cult. As such, it would greatly assist me in my journey to have both a horse and a map of this region. Would you, perchance, have either of those?”

“Why, of course!” the mayor cried, “I am sure that one of the patrol horses could be granted, and I myself have a copy of the surrounding area that I would be happy to gift ye as a reward, master mage. Here, I’ll just be a moment.” The mayor then moved back inside the house. True to his word, he was back less than a minute later, a rolled parchment in hand which he promptly thrust forwards. I took the proffered map and unrolled it, examined it for a minute, then nodded. It would be plenty for my travel, as it detailed the roads leading to all the nearby towns as well as the major features such as forests, rivers, and mountains. “This will be fine,” I said, rolling the scroll back up. “And the horse?”

The mayor turned to the guardsman, “Now, Randolf, take master wizard here to the stables and give him the nicest horse we have. He deserves as much for saving us from that Doom Cult, eh?”

The guardsman nodded fervently, then turned to me, “It’ll be right this way, master wizard.”

And as I followed him to receive my new present, I found a smile upon my face. I was feeling confident, finally. I had some answers, a direction, and, soon, a horse to take me there. Though it wasn’t as good as suddenly remembering everything, today was starting a good deal better than yesterday had.

I could only hope that such good luck would hold on my way to Platston.