Gorn,

I am happy to see how fast your guild is growing. To be honest, I did not believe you when you first told me about these spells of yours. I never deemed such a thing to be possible. But handing them to new members of your Guild?

My friend, can you not see that there is more to being a Mage than to cast magic? These spellslingers wield power beyond their comprehension. They have no control, no connection to the Art they are wielding.

Think of the havoc they may wreak.

Elusco

A letter from Elusco to Gornatius Siti, founder of the Guild of Mages. Dated 529 a.f.

After having eaten a meal at the tavern, both master and apprentice left the village to return to the cabin. Tom had bought mostly small supplies such as new ink, honey, and a few other foods he could not grow himself.

The early evening sun lent a peaceful air to the forest. It was neither too hot nor too cold, and Silas enjoyed the walk. A sense of deja-vu struck him as he tread through the woods. It all felt so similar. With a start, Silas remembered the dream from the night before.

The dream had been so vivid. Even the impassable white mist had seemed alive somehow. Pulsing with energy, the mist had resembled a heart instead of simple fog. Taking care to keep stepping with his sole first, Silas told Tom about his odd dream.

Listening quietly, Tom took a moment before responding.

“You said you remembered the white mist from another dream. Tell me about it.”

So he told him.

He told him about the night of his escape and how he sought shelter inside the gigantic tree. Silas told him about the nightmare that followed. How his father’s corpse had blamed him for his mother’s death, Edgar’s lifeless eyes judging his inaction.

How Silas had found himself trapped in the white mist afterward, unable to escape. How he had sensed another presence in the white mist, and bonded with Gnarly. Silas told the old man everything. By the time he finished, they had almost gotten back to the cabin.

Tom’s voice was low as he turned to speak. Yet Silas had never felt such intensity behind his master’s words.

“There are no burdens as heavy as those of guilt and regret. These feelings will only drag you down, Silas. They will drag you so far down until all you can see are your own mistakes. Hate, revenge, and self-loathing. This is what comes from blaming yourself for your parent’s death. There was nothing you could have done.”

Silas turned his head to the side before wiping his eyes. The two walked for a moment in silence before Tom began to speak again.

“On a lighter note, I can tell you that the white mist you dreamed about was most definitely your Inner Landscape. And since you already dreamed twice about it, finding and getting access to it should not be that hard for you now.”

Silas’ eyes widened. Gnarly started to bob up and down on his shoulder, gripping one ear tightly.

“But master, what exactly is my Inner Landscape? And how do I break through the white mist?” he asked excitedly.

“Your Inner Landscape is the source of your power, and getting access to it is what differentiates Seekers from Users.” he began. “As a User, your manipulation of the Arts mostly depends on the size of your Inner Landscape as well as the control you have over the energies within,” Tom explained.

“Now as to your second question, breaking through the white mist is simply a matter of willpower and endurance. You need to keep trying to force your way through, no matter how impossible it may seem.”

Silas nodded, remembering how the white mist had completely ignored his and Gnarlys attempts last night.

“The difficulty lies in maintaining the deep state of meditation necessary to envision your Inner Landscape while simultaneously using your every effort to get access to it,” Tom explained.

This sounded more complicated than he had thought. But Silas thought he understood. First, find your Inner Landscape through meditation. Then, break the barrier without stopping to meditate. Huh. Looking at it like this, the whole thing did not sound that complicated.

“Do you understand, Silas?” Tom asked from his right.

“I do, master,” he replied.

Tom lifted one bushy eyebrow, glancing sideways at his apprentice.

“Good. Then I expect you to have access to your Landscape before the Harvest Festival.”

The Harvest Festival was celebrated in all of Ceraviehl. It marked the end of summer and the first half of the year. Food and drinks were plentiful everywhere, and the people gathered outside to sing and praise the goddess Herald. Farmers also made offerings to please the goddess and assure another bountiful harvest.

The Festival was due in less than three moons, but Silas was sure he could become a User before that. Because he was not alone in his efforts. Gnarly had seemed just as intent on breaking through as himself, if not more so.

“Creeaak!” his friend made itself known, anticipation flowing through the bond.

‘Yes. We will break through, you and me together.’ Silas thought to it.

The wooden cabin could soon be seen through the trees. Standing right in the middle of the clearing, it looked like the trees were refusing to grow anywhere near the cabin. All around it, the grass was growing in a meticulous circle.

Not even a single bush dared to step a foot into the clearing.

It had already started to grow dark, so Tom and Silas headed into the cabin and went to sleep. Caught in its endless cycle the sun fell down the sky, only to begin its climb the next day again. Little changed in the forest, and Silas quickly fell into a routine of training, hunting, and meditation.

Tend the gardens, train with the bow. Accompany Tom hunting and walk without making noise. Remember all the herbs, or try to dodge Tom’s staff. The latter rarely worked. Spar with the spear, meditate afterward.

A moon-cycle passed like that, with Silas completely engrossed in his training.

Their spars became longer, their strikes faster. While he was not nearly as silent as Tom, Silas was at least good enough not to scare the animals away when they went hunting. Finding his Inner Landscape through meditation was a given now, although he still had not broken through. Gnarly also grew a bit. Standing on Silas’ shoulder, it was almost big enough to touch the top of his head.

It was an evening like any other.

Sitting under his usual tree, Silas relaxed his strained muscles. A soft breeze caressed his skin and cooled his sweat. A solitary leaf danced through the air, riding the currents of air like a man might a horse.

Closing his eyes, Silas once more stood before the barrier of white mist. It looked the same as always, impenetrable and unrelenting. He laid his hands on it, by now accustomed to the unusual resistance the mist seemed to have. Gnarly stood on his shoulder, its gaze as determined as his own.

Silas began to push against the mist. It was an odd sensation, similar to watching yourself from above. Sitting under the tree, Silas did not move a single muscle. Yet here he was, standing before his Inner Landscape and feeling every part of his body. He pushed and pushed, but the barrier did not budge an inch. It felt like trying to topple a building with his bare hands.

Frustration made itself known, creeping its way into Silas’ mind. Glancing over his shoulder, Silas saw Gnarly still focused on the barrier in front of them. Once more, it helped him without even being asked. Without wanting anything in return.

At first, Gnarly had pulled him out of his nightmare on the night of his escape. Then, it had somehow led him directly to Tom’s cabin. Now it again stood by his side, helping him to become a User. And Silas had no way to repay the favor. He would not even be able to protect it if somebody tried to take his friend away from him.

Suddenly, breaking through was more than a goal. It was a necessity.

Somewhere within him, a spark ignited. It erupted into a torrent of fiery determination, filling him with strength. Making him push even harder. For the first time, Silas noticed a change in the barrier. It seemed to give in slightly, his hands sinking ever so slowly into the white mist. His arms shook as he tried to force his way through. But his strength soon started to wane, and Silas felt the mist pushing back against him. Bit by bit, his hands became visible again.

No. He would not relent. He could not relent.

Images danced in front of his eyes, judging him with their stillness. An ax, lodging themselves into the shoulder of a helpless woman. A man, pleading for his Son to flee as he bled out on the ground. The disconcerting crunch the skull of the man made when it was split apart by the ax.

Two different kinds of emotions rose within him, opposite yet similar. The one, a tender and lifegiving caress. It was the smile that made you hold your breath, the fresh breeze that lifted you up when everything else had let you down.

The other was a blazing force of destruction. It wanted nothing but to destroy. Like a parasite, it fed on grief and self-loathing.

Together they formed a volatile mix of raw power. Both emotions fought within him, each trying to overwhelm the other. Silas knew he could not contain them. His mind was already strained to its limits. Forcing the emotions out of him, they formed a ball of ever-changing sparks and swirls between his hands. The raw force coming off it threatened to break his meditation, so Silas focused on one specific spot of the barrier.

With every fiber of his being, he pushed the ball against the mist.

The barrier suddenly broke. Silas fell into the white mist with a startled cry. A crushing wave of freezing energy began to seep into his body. The coldness made it impossible for him to breathe, and he immediately lost control of his meditation.

Silas had barely managed to open his eyes before he lost consciousness.

The cold soon receded. Silas slept deeply and without any troubles. The morning sun already shone through the windows when Silas awoke to the sound of a door opening. The hinges creaked, and he could hear heavy boots stomping on wooden planks.

“I hate to break it to you boy, but no princess is coming to give you a wake-up kiss.”

Confused, Silas blearily opened his eyes. A heartbeat of panic went through his body until he recognized the intimidating figure looming over him. Eyebrows scrunched together, Tom’s gray eyes looked down at him disapprovingly.

“Finally. I once more,” Tom made a short pause “made breakfast with you sleeping, but I expect you outside immediately, understood?”

“Yes, master,” Silas mumbled.

Tom went back outside, leaving Silas alone in the cabin. He was surprised to see Gnarly just waking up. Although the process looked a bit odd. One moment it was laying on his bed, curdled up like a cat. The next it was already on its legs, jumping toward Silas’ nose to begin its usual wake-up routine.

“No nose-pulling needed today, Gnarly,” Silas said, quickly cupping his nose with one hand.

That could not stop Gnarly though, who just started to pull on one of Silas’ fingers instead. Its enthusiasm was contagious as usual, but there was a depth to it that he had not noticed before. While previously the two only exchanged vague concepts or feelings, now his friend transmitted an image of the two of them breaking through the mist.

Had their bond just gotten stronger? Come to think of it, what had even happened after he broke through? After the cold, the only thing he remembered was losing consciousness. Maybe Tom could answer his questions.

Silas communicated with Gnarly while putting on his clothes, testing out the limits of their bond. While before the bond had mostly transmitted feelings, now it allowed for a whole new level of communication.

However, exact questions were still a bit difficult. When Silas had asked it how exactly they had broken through the barrier, Gnarly simply boxed the air while nodding at him wide-eyed.

Apart from having just woken up, Silas was not tired at all. He could not quite get his grips on it, but everything seemed a bit different to him now. He somehow sensed the things around him, some more than others.

Closing his eyes, Silas concentrated on the new sensation. Immediately Gnarly shone like a beacon through his senses. Standing on his shoulder, he could “see” it moving its head and each of its fingers.

The floor beneath his feet creaked as he walked, and Silas opened the door with his eyes closed. Strangely some things were almost a blank spot to his sight, like the iron pot or the small chimney to his right. He felt like a whole new world had opened up before him.

Closing the cabin door behind him he bounced toward Tom, who calmly sat by the campfire.

“Took you long enough,” came the greeting.

As soon as he reached his stool, Silas started to speak.

“Master, I have a question.”

“I know,” the old man said sagely.

“Why did I lose consciousness yesterday? Can I now use real magic? And why can I see some things with my eyes closed? Also, do you know something about bonds and how they work?” the questions shot out of him.

Taking a spoon of porridge, Tom looked at Silas. The boy could hardly sit still and had not even touched his breakfast. His eyes were completely focused on Tom, who tried not to smirk at the fitting duo in front of him. Gnarly and Silas, one more energetic than the other.

“First of all, losing consciousness when becoming a User is nothing unusual. Your body and mind need to get accustomed to having these new energies flowing through them,” Tom began. "The ability to sense your surroundings is directly related to the nature of your Inner Landscape.

"As you continue to grow as a Mage, so does your Landscape. It may not increase in size after reaching the stage of a User, but it will eventually take shape according to your affinities," he explained. "It is due to those affinities that you are able to sense your surroundings. The more related something is to your affinities, the clearer you will be able to sense it.”

Silas listened with rapt attention. By now he felt pretty sure he had some kind of wood-related affinity, but how did he know what his others were? How many would he have?

“Since I also have an affinity for wood, I will probably be able to help you discover your other ones,” Tom said after Silas had voiced his concerns. “It is not that difficult, assuming they don’t differ too much from your strongest affinity. The stronger your affinity, the easier it is to manipulate the Art corresponding with that affinity.”

Tom then asked Silas if he understood, and gestured toward the bowl of porridge that was slowly growing cold. The boy quickly shoved a few spoons in his mouth before continuing to interrogate Tom.

“I understand, master. But what about Gnarly? Does it have affinities too?”

The old man nodded. “Most certainly. Every creature does, to a degree at the very least. Given its nature, Gnarly will probably have a strong affinity for wood, trees, or something of the like.”

Silas’ eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Are the two not the same?” he asked Tom.

“No, not at all.” Tom held up a hand to stop Silas before he could ask another question. “But you don’t need to concern yourself with that yet.”

The answer was typical for the old man, but Silas would not let that damper his mood.

“Can you also help Gnarly to find its affinities?” he asked, scratching the last of the porridge out of his bowl.

Tom shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. But it will eventually discover them as it continues to grow.”

“How large will Gnarly grow anyway? Do spriggans live as long as humans do?” the questions continued.

“I’m not too sure, to be honest. There are very few records of spriggans bonding with humans, and their sizes vary from two feet to ten. Some have been known to be hundreds of years old, and very powerful.”

“How powerful exactly? More powerful than Mages? More powerful than you?”

“I think that’s enough questions for today,” Tom interrupted him.

His master then stood up and took a small branch that was laying to his side. “Right now, it is more important that we continue with your training,” he said with a smile.

‘Oh no,’ Silas thought with dread.

He knew what that smile meant. Feet moving of their own accord, Silas moved to dodge the incoming projectile.