Soul anew, soul unborn

The path unknown, mind torn

Fate decided, hold no scorn

Soul a strew, soul forlorn

Translation from Effylscript found on the Ysdigar Portal in Hyrfvar.

The rustling of paper wavered in the air and broke Kollyn’s concentration for a moment. He looked up from the texts before him and saw Tolis, his assistant, searching his way through a stack of old parchments.

“Lost something?” he asked.

Tolis looked up almost apologetically. “My sanity,” he quipped. “I swear I left the translations right here on this pile, yet now I can’t find them.”

“You want my help?” Kollyn inquired.

Tolis shook his head. “How am I to master Effylscript if you keep doing the translating for me, Kollyn?”

Kollyn grinned. “Fair point. What are you working on?”

“I did some deep digging in the Hall’s library,” he answered, “and I think these texts might shed some light on the creation of the Seven Realms. I found them at the bottom of a stupidly large pile of discarded scrolls. I tell you, the librarians here need to be fired or chastised at least.”

That piqued Kollyn’s interest. Not much was known of the Seven Realms’ intricate workings, let alone their creation. “Our only librarian is a ninety-year-old celibate who spends his time drowning himself in wine. Let me see those texts. Don’t worry,” he added when Tolis shot him an annoyed look, “I won’t translate them for you, I just want to read them.”

Reluctantly, Tolis handed Kollyn the documents. They were old, he immediately noticed, perfectly preserved by the very Effylscript written on them. It was a trick not often used, but he murmured a silent thanks to the author nonetheless. Too many texts had been desecrated by the passage of time or the hungry teeth of mice. The accent of the Script was ancient as well, showing a version that some would consider basic in its simplicity.

“You’d be looking for a translation guide for a long time,” Kollyn said, earning a confused look from Tolis. “The script is written in Aiic, a language not publicly spoken or written for well over two thousand years now.”

Tolis cursed softly. “And I don’t suppose we have an Aiic-to-Herdish translation manual laying around?”

Kollyn laughed softly. “You’d be lucky to find Aiic text anywhere in the world. It was a strictly oral language. Discounting its Effylscript writings, of course.”

“And let me guess,” Tolis answered, “you are fluent in Aiic and have already translated half the text while we had this conversation?”

“I wish,” Kollyn sighed. “My Aiic is limited to its very basics. But you are indeed correct to think this particular text tells of the Realms. All the Aiic names for the Seven Realms are here.”

“Then it is most urgent we find someone who can translate Aiic,” Tolis concluded.

“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Kollyn said. “I know some of the Keepers here in Lunard speak the language. They use it as a means of safe communication, but I don’t think they’ll be too opposed to translate for us. Especially concerning the subject matter.”

He handed back the documents. “Deliver them to Brother Lancast. He’ll be most amicable to the request.”

Tolis eagerly wrote down instructions for Lancast and hurried out the door.

Kollyn turned back to the texts he had been working on earlier but found it difficult to focus now. He was growing tired in his study, spending the days indoors and working on texts. But it was what the Ligtyr had asked of him. Not a command, but a request. It made no difference for Kollyn, the Ligtyr’s words always carried meaning even if he did not yet understand them.

Five months had passed since his Elevation at His hands and the gift of the Script that was now etched into his shoulder permanently. Three months since his last journey beyond the borders of Lunard and the sight of battle. Three months of studying old texts, translating them, and writing down his findings. It wasn’t that he was growing frustrated, but rather that he was growing bored.

He snickered at the thought of missing the Vren encounters, the thrill of the fight and feeling like he had a purpose. There was a certain satisfaction in killing the creatures, as if he was ridding the world of a great evil, a foul stench that had to be cleaned away. At least then he knew the reasons behind his action.

How many people were dying now from attacks he could have prevented by being out there?

He banished the thought immediately. The Ligtyr wanted him here, studying. There had to be a reason.

Kollyn sighed and concentrated. There had been a faint rumbling from deep within, responding to his emotions. He knew that rumbling all too well. A waiting danger, a power beyond his understanding and control. Best to stifle it now before it grew any larger. Best to prevent...

Focus, he cursed inwardly. That wasn’t your fault.

The rumbling faded away and left behind an empty void, allowing Kollyn to regain control over himself once again.

Some time passed without any disturbances, allowing Kollyn to continue translating the texts before him. They told of Vren sightings and attacks that occurred many centuries ago, but something was undoubtedly different. The Vren were described as legendary creatures, mythical beings that were thought up to scare children and frighten them into behaving. Sightings were exceedingly rare and more so actual confirmed attacks.

Kollyn himself had faced well over fifty Vren over the course of his two years outside the Hall as acolyte. Granted, he had been tasked specifically to hunt them down, but the numbers did not add up. Why where the Vren much more common these days?

The door swung open and Tolis appeared, seemingly out of breath from running to Brother Lancast’s chambers and back.

“He’ll...” Tolis panted. “He’ll work on it as soon as he finds the time. He seemed a bit preoccupied though, so I doubt it will be today.”

Just as Kollyn was about to answer, the air rippled in front of him. The space above his desk seemed to turn in on itself and became distorted. From the distortion, a smooth, round stone engraved with Effylscript appeared and fell on the desk with a soft thud.

Kollyn saw Tolis’ surprised eyes try to follow the ripples as they disappeared again as quickly as they had appeared.

“What...” he said, mouth aghast and fingers pointed at the stone, “was that?”

“A summons,” Kollyn answered, picking up the stone and followed the script along its edges. It bore the mark of the Ligtyr, the same mark that was part of the engraving on his shoulder. “The Ligtyr has called me for a Woadan.”