The Apprentice

Eiden, Bella, and Fin found themselves in a secluded part of the forest bordering the west of Goldenforst. Or Sunforst. Even the locals couldn’t decide which they preferred, using both lumens interchangeably. A full turn of the moons had passed since they arrived.

“This should do, lad,” Said Fin, his voice strong as damascene steel.

A cave under an overhang of earth stood at their forefront, open like the gaping maw of a beast. Darkness lived in its depths.

“We’ll conduct the Trials inside here, away from any prying eyes. I’ll erect some wards outside.”

The Exorcist was in his black leather coat that covered his arms and went down unto his knees. At his back, the coat was slit from the lower back to its bottom to allow for a better range of movement. His oathbinder was strapped to his back.

“Go with Bela and clear out the cave of any critters.”

Eiden gave his mentor a nod before entering the darkness without pause.

“Oh, forgot.”

He extended his palm forward and surged fire from his spirit. He took from his aether and ignited it by the use of the arcana that dwelt inside his mind. No longer did he have to waste heat from his bones to conjure flame.

An azure beacon danced amidst the black.

It was easy to forget others needed sight. Eiden could’ve closed his eyes and made his way through the darkness without a stumble. He had been practicing using his aura senses for months now, the consistent conditioning showing its dividends.

The Sight, the Trace, the Flux, and Empathy let him perceive the world much better than his mundane senses. The perception of his spirit was honed to a fine and battle-ready edge. Though much of it was because of his Awakening, and not that spiritual senses themselves were entirely superior to ordinary ones. Being the demi-spawn of sorcery and a rare strain of vampirism had its perks, he reckoned begrudgingly.

Yet, it left a bitter taste in his mind. Eiden would die in their places if he could. He would forsake all he gained if it meant that they still walked among the living.

He shook his head, returning to the present.

The young exorcist felt the weight of minds above his head.

Eiden stomped his foot down upon the cold stone floor.

The vibrations that bounced back to his spirit’s fluxen-touch showed no anomalies other than the bats above his head. Some flew their way through the dark with the added stimuli.

The mageling’s aura blazed forward, its edges turning sharp and menacing. It flowed over Bela, protecting her though she felt none of its wrath.

The critters above, beneath, and in between felt the maw of a beast tighten around their minds. They scurried away from the source as fast as possible, rats trampling each other as bats took flight. The auric force came seemingly from everywhere and nowhere, causing them to run towards the light.

The darkness held only terror. Yet, the light would be their doom. That is, if Eiden possessed malice towards them.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Winter’s Breath.

The essence of otherworldly noesis inside his mind froze, aspecting itself with bitter cold.

The flame that danced upon his palm turned neveian white as his breath condensed to fog.

In a snap of cold, his aura solidified into a translucent barrier. The bats bounced off its surface wrought of hoarfrost, leaving cracks upon it no different than mosaics in an Orianthian church.

Eiden’s magicks still shone light, letting Bela see through the gloom. They were, after all, not a thing of pure and earthly spirit. It was sorcery—well, more akin to arcanistry—a branch of the mystic arts that delved into the breaking of preordained reality as easily as one could draw breath.

The auric barrier broke, yet in its place came a burst of winter gust, pushing the thromb of bats away in an inverted vortex of force and cold. Another shroud crystallized over the duo as Bela clung close to Eiden. The barrier was broken again and again as gusts of wind were conjured in its place. All until no bat nor any other vermin made their nest among the black of cave.

Some were battered, but most of the animals safely made their way out of the cave system.

All in all, it was good training and practice, be it in magic or warfare. Fin had told him that he'd have to become accustomed to protecting others. The flying vermin that nestled among stone teeth were ripe with disease. A single scratch could easily spell inexorable doom in the form of the frothing malice: rabies. A bit of danger was welcome when it came to honing the mind.

Being able to switch between arcane and spiritual magic was costly. Both required different parts of the mind and ethereal body to use. It reminded Eiden of flipping a latch on a gate or door, as either closed or open were its states. Yet, with all his time to dedicated conditioning, the act of changing between arcana and spirit was practically instant as his focus was honed razor sharp.

The sleeping mind truly does wonders, thought the mageling.

Eiden walked back to the light with Bela in tow, her hand clinging to his. He gripped it tightly as well, having found another companion of sorts amidst the world. To lose a sibling was a great loss, his mourning of Bert never truly done. To have a friendship bordering on kinship again was nice.

A brother lost, and a sister found.

They stepped into the light of the midsummer day, Solaria a balm to their cold and clammy skin.

“Ei, Fin!” Clamored Bela. “We’s done ‘er. Ain’t got all day!”

The cave itself started as a descending scar into the wall of stone, then petered off into various tunnels. The drip of water over the centuries and the movement of the firmament caused the cracks to widen and transform into what they now were. The trio secluded themselves into a mostly round pocket of cavern, Fin having carved runes all around the cave system. Balls of ethereal flame the color of dandelions gave light to the darkness, floating around like paper lanterns upon an invisible sea of air.

To Eiden’s senses, the runes were a mixture of spirit art and something else. Perhaps a branch of mentalism or wizardry, yet as he had no senses to peer into the Weave proper, he could not tell. The runes radiated some pressure onto the psychic fabric of the mental plane as well. Still, they weren’t strong enough to be called “minds,” being no different than critters and bugs. No true soul dwelled in their carvings wrought from stone.

With the last rune carved unto the ceiling, the Exorcist floated down from his flight.

Once more, Eiden sensed not much spirit mana aiding his mentor in the effort. Another act of wizardry, it seems. Or perhaps sorcery? If it was arcane, I’d feel some sort of resonance with my Inner Flame.

The sigils circulated air and disposed of the sour miasma that coagulated inside enclosed spaces. That was the extent of the mageling’s knowledge of alchemical formulae. Eiden recognized some of the runes from Magus Friede’s Alkemia Formulaica. The script itself was repeating in a line with runeform along its edges and borders. Runeform itself, as he understood it, was just a form of advanced runic notation and used to connect a string of sigils together. Not dissimilar to a magic circle proper, yet it differed in that it was a line and not in a circular format.

Silver—a crescent moon with its back to the right, carved as a single line.

Air—an upright triangle with a line bisecting it horizontally at its peak.

Gold—a circle with a dot upon its center.

Mercury—the symbol for the mind and spirit. A circle with a cross below and semicircle above.

Gold and silver had qualities of purity in metaphor and even antimiasmic properties in the prime itself—also known as antibacterial or antimicrobial in some tomes. Air was self-evident in its function. The mercury rune seemed to be the backbone of the runic script, serving as the binding between instruction and operation. The pattern itself was woven intricately with lines of runeform in between, above, and below.

Eiden could barely wait to get his hands on some of the advanced, and scholarly magic Fin knew of. To be cast a spell without him feeling it was a boon he so very desperately desired. To feel magic was to make it, well, feel less magical. It had become too routine, too common, too mundane. No longer was it a mysterious thing, yet just another facet of reality that could be explained away.

Spiritual magic clung too much weight on the physical as it was the shallowest of the ethereal planes to bind onto the prime. As such, it was the easiest to sense—the deeper one went into the ethereal, the more nebulous and less the planes mirrored the prime, making it harder to parse and feel. Eiden likened the ethereal realms as a reflection of the physical. The deeper one went, the more distorted and twisted the reflections became.

The Weave and the Wellfont, or the Source Beyond the Veil, were the deep waters of the ethereal. The mysterious abyss beckoned, drawing the mageling’s curiosity like a magus moth to a dark flame. Esoterica was an ever-alluring curiosity.

“Ei, lad and lass.” Said Fin, breaking Eiden away from his thoughts. The Exorcist sat down cross-legged and patted the ground next to him. “Time for another lecture.”

With a snap of his fingers, another orb of heliotropic flame appeared in the air as a book appeared in his lap. In a blink of the eye, it had come fro to exist without as much as an ebb or disturbance in the Ether or resonance from Eiden’s Inner Flame.

“Ooh, dandelions.” Said Bela in wonder. Even after the repeated exposure to such simple illusions and magicks, she still held awe in her heart.

“Today, we will be conducting the Trial of the Grasses.” Continued Fin. “I will be administering various compounds into Eiden, mutagens, substances that accelerate the likelihood of mutation.

“Now, generally, this would be a bad thing. Mutations running rampant would cause an excruciating death by way of tumorous growths. Yet, that is what we will be doing today.

“Why?”

Eiden took his time to answer the question. He had read mountains of tomes leading up to this day. Even more so the ones directly linked to the Trial.

Vivaldi’s Common Essencia.

Mercledes Mutagenica Panacea.

Tyrells’ Alchemy for the Uninitiated.

Chemistry: Principles and Code by Markus Mendell.

Phylogeny and Coporealis Institutas by Janus Eberclide.

Magus Friede’s Alkemia Formulaica

“To strengthen the body.” Answered Eiden. “Mana can do many things, yet it is not always an absolute strength. To keep an entire construct made of mana stable, one needs mana. As such, strength would be limited to mana capacity, and long periods of hibernation required to achieve massive amounts of power in the prime.

“But… with a body made of both perfected mana and matter, the spirit and corporeality make up for each other’s weaknesses. And, when I achieve an absolute corporeal transcendence, the base of my body beforehand would still be important. The higher the base, the higher the end result.”

“Good,” Said Fin, his face still as stone. He lifted an eyebrow before continuing.

“And what precisely are mutations? How do they help in this regard?”

“Mutations themselves are alterations in a genetic sequence, essentially, a mistake on what tells a cell to produce and do what it does. These sequences of genetic information are like arcana. Yet, instead of defining the properties of mana, genes dictate the functions of an organism—acting kind of like the runic script you wrote. No different than a manual or treatise of sorts for the body.

“These genetic mistakes are sometimes beneficial, leading to species evolving over time as the beneficial changes stack up. Those with the good mutations live and reproduce, while those without them die. The fittest transfer their mutations to the next generation.

“If one could impose those same mutations on a body, beneficial ones, they’d be able to evolve an individual in a short amount of time instead of a species over eons.”

Fin’s face remained impassive until he couldn’t hold in his face-splitting grin.

“Excellent answer, lad.” The Exorcist commended as he vigorously shook his apprentice’s right shoulder.

“Ei, ei.” Said Eiden. “Rip this arm, and you’ll have to make me a new one. Again."

“Anyway.” Continued Fin. “We will be exposing you to compounds that cause mutation, substances that inhibit the body’s mutation correction systems, and splicing foreign genetic material with your own. The culmination of all these different alchemics and chemicals will be called simply mutagens. Though it is a bit of a misnomer—it is easier to refer to them as that. No different than calling a mass of organs a “body.”

“The trial itself will be heavily modified from its original formulae as it had only a ten percent chance of success. I will be monitoring you and doing the job of checking for fatal mistakes in your genome as the process occurs.”

“What species will you splice into my body?” Quested Eiden. “Hopefully, I don’t get cat eyes.”

“Funny that you mention that…” Said Fin with a suspicious grin. “You will be getting new pupils that can constrict to slits, not unlike a feline, but they will also have a more “human” appearance when at rest.

“The Trial is not going to produce alterations that will visibly impact you for the worse. Though, you will be growing many more organs, both corporeal and ethereal in nature. Among the splicing candidates are both mundane and supernatural and even post-convergence relic-beings.

“Manticore liver enzymes for the fast breaking-down of toxins. Other sequences will aid this main one to allow for the use of incredibly potent potions.

“Salamander bone marrow for the production of fire-aspected blood. Will go great with all of your igneous affinities, especially your blood-fire one.

“A half splice of wolverine-toad and shark enamel for ossein production and hardness. Your bones will weigh more than a ton of steel, so swimming will be harder. But, because of your water and wind magicks, that won’t impact you much.

“The myostatin inhibitor sequence will be removed to increase muscle mass to support your increased skeletal weight. Yet, I will add another myostatin limiter to avoid making your physique grotesquely muscular.

“A water salamander sequence for the regrowth of limbs should the need arise. Again. It was hard finding this sample. A friend of mine from Florencia had to sneak into an underwater temple to get it. The mutagen splice won’t interfere with scar growth. The sequence will only activate should you lose a finger or extremity. Otherwise, with the number of wounds you’ll accrue, you’ll quickly need more food than you could fit in your belly. Scars are much cheaper to produce than the stem cells required for proper healing.

“And lastly, many other sequences related to healing of unhealable maladies and afflictions. You’ll only die in the midst of battle and not to some wound gone sour or sickness. You’ll age, although at a much-decreased pace.

“At one hundred years of age, you’ll have the body of a man still in his prime.

“And this is just the beginning, lad. The first set of mutations are just that: the first. There will be more to come. Each monster you fell will add to your body and spirit—no different than a beastborne mage. The only difference is that this is by deliberation and not necessity—we will be using alchemy instead of the more traditional spirit beast.”

The Exorcist closed his eyes when his speech ebbed. The book in his lap had disappeared in between blinks without Bela or Eiden realizing until just then. Had it ever been there, to begin with?

Eiden had already heard variations of the same lecture over the past moons. Each time, Fin had asked him again and again for his consent on the procedures to be done.

And so, the exorcist-in-training was already prepared for the question.

He bared his spirit, exposing his mind to the world without.

The Exorcist’s eyes opened. Theirs was an intensity that pierced into the very soul.

“Do you, Eiden Luciean, consent to the Trial of Grasses?” Asked the Exorcist, his voice reverberating a thousand-thousand times as his eternal mind took sway over his mortal shell.

Eiden could not lie even if he wanted to. And he felt the answer in his bones.

“Yes.” He answered, his voice resolute and hard as adamant. “I, Eiden Luciean, consent to the Trial of Grasses.”

Fin nodded as his soul state came to, his eyes returning to their normal semblance. No longer did the ocular orbs pierce through the Veil in a visage of muddy glaze. They looked tired and old—wise and yet playful.

No different than a fox. Yet behind them was the sharpness of a blade.

Phineas Luciean’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell into a deep sleep. Not even the gods could wake him from the realm of dreams.

This had been the first time Fin had used that sorcerous divination on Eiden since the last. The Exorcist still stood in his cross-legged manner, his chin touching his chest and his shoulders slumped.

Eiden stood to the Exorcist left and Bela to his left in turn, each supporting each other as they waited for Fin to wake.

Some time passed until Eiden became bored. A dangerous mood that was, having brought him trouble before. It had cost him his left arm.

So, he decided to prod at it and attempt to hone his mastery over it. A blade was sharpened stroke by stroke upon the whetstone, not in a single bound. Unless one used magic, of course. Bela had long since laid down on a cot provided by Fin, falling to sleep quickly enough.

Eiden expanded his spiritual awareness over his Forged arm. Its bones were of Terra Herself. Its blood and flesh were of Dyeus, the Sky-Father, ether wrought from the Tide. His once amorphous flesh was slowly sculpted and molded into usable muscle. An entire month of anatomical study and magical manipulation resulted in an immaculate copy of his right arm. Its skin was that of his spirit made manifest, conferring almost perfect channeling of any spirit essence.

The spiritualist took a wisp of vital breath from his Center, surging it into his left palm. It travelled through his etheric veins, a half mixture of water and wind ether.

A seed of tempest, roaring with the fury of an inferno of Dyeus and bound in the form of a sphere, floated above his hand. The wind and water ether influenced his mana-forged corporeality, causing it to slightly ephermeralize. It started as his digits, a silhouette of greenish wind and water aura taking over his form. A minute later, confirmed by his watch, his whole hand and upper wrist had turned into a substance similar to an auric shroud or the ectoplasmic skin of a remnant spirit. Small eddies of wind and water circled in waves around his spirit-skin, like tiny fey sprites taking a swim.

Veins appeared inside the ether-forged hand, aspected with the green of life mana and tinge of water and air. They pulsed and circulated the pneumatic essence in loops that brought it back towards his lower arm and eventually to his Heart of the Bodies.

Bones too made their presence known, tinged a slight shade darker than the surrounding ectoplasmic tissue. They were bleached-white, the color of remains left out in the sun.

Whenever I channel any type of spirit essence through it, my arm changes. Using another essence right after muddies the waters of my spirit, causing the Forged construct to destabilize. Too much conflicting arcana. I have to purge each aspect before changing to another or else risk contamination.

Eiden entered the Empty Breath, dispelling his evocation and returning his arm to null state. He manifested a slight aura around his palm once more, causing it to turn ghost-white instead of the greenish hue filled with eddies of wind from before. It was transparent like glossy glass yet had the squishy constituency of a jellyfish.

Eiden pooled aether into the aura before igniting it with his arcane spark. The aura became more substantial and denser, coming closer to physical than ephemeral. Aether poured into ether which trickled into nether.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Ashen Iron.

Inside the black of his mind, the arcana in the form of fire burned red at its core with a body of dark, decaying flame that bubbled like oil and tar.

His veins etheric turned abyssian black, ash and iron dust the color of rust and charcoal tainting his spirit-flesh with their corruption. Claws of iron erupted from his fingertips as his skin turned opaque grey with a texture of callus and scale. Some of the ghastly ether inevitably reached his Heart of the Bodies. Yet, there it was contained by argent mana-flesh, the veins constricting to deny passage. The contamination was limited to only his arm. Essence could only go in, but not out.

The air sizzled at the presence of so much decay and death, burning away audibly like fat upon a pan.

His hand turned into the spawn of coal and iron with an oil-like sheen. His talons were jagged and built like crystals of bismuth yet held none of its color. The aura around his arm had turned into serpentine coils of black iron dust as the essence of decay and death sought to devour all in its plight.

Empty Breath.

The residual arcana inside his mind slowly dissipated, leaving only the twisted arcane ember hovering over the gate of his soul.

Inner Flame - Dual Arcane Aspect: Stalwart Steel & Azure Ember.

The arcane flame pulsed like a heartbeat, chains of argent wrapping around it as it too turned stalwart, burning pure blue like the sky itself on a cloudless afternoon. Cerulean blaze purged the decay-fire from his mind entirely. His eyes briefly shone steel-grey under the arcana’s influence. It was a pulse of color fast and strong like Daedulus' hammer upon Heavenly Anvil.

Slowly the darkness abated from his arm, turning grey like steel before white and then materializing wholly back into flesh.

The Empty Breath served as a general purger of arcana and unwanted spirit essence. The arcane aspect of Stalwart Steel bound and contained, while the Azure Ember aspect entirely burned away any residual taint. It was, after all, the original state of the Inner Flame.

The practice of shifting between arcane aspects was critical for Eiden to get used to doing so during battle. A tool left unsharpened, rusted, and barely used was one that failed more oft than not.

Though his arm looked normal enough, some corruption still rested inside its ether and nether. Eiden took his time cleansing the spirit limb thoroughly by transmuting azure-fire mana directly into his mana-flesh. It burned away the leftover corruption in its entirety, scouring his veins and spirit. They felt a bit raw and sore afterwards, but that was to be expected.

Once more, forever at the edge. The step mine to take.

Those words forever said whenever he tapped into any and all that caused him fear. Ashen iron was middling at best when it came to terror. It didn't affect him much.

Yet, the flames produced directly of his Awakening were something else entirely. They were a thing to behold in awe and terror.

The mageling poured mana onto his left arm again, manifesting another aether-infused aura.

Aether poured onto ether. Ether trickled onto nether. Spirit made manifest.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Scarlet Pyre.

His hand erupted with an aura of blood-fire, etherealizing into a silhouette of ruby-red haze in turn. It felt as hot as a flame yet could melt flesh as easily as snow.

Eiden's eyes burned in sympathy to the red madness in his sinister hand.

Empty Breath.

Blood essence was vented from his Forged arm and spirit, dissipating as mist into the Ether.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Azure Ember.

His arm blazed blue for a second before turning back into ether-white and then flesh and bone. Though blood-fire wasn’t as corrupting to his spirit and body as ashen iron, it still needed to be purged fully with his routine arcane and spiritual combination technique.

Scarlet Pyre affected his psyche much more than his corporeality. That was what he most feared. To lose an arm once more wouldn't be so bad. He could make another. But to be imprisoned in the black of the mind and dragged into the skin of a monster?

A shiver of shame and rage went through his spine at the thought. He shook his head, returning back to practice. To dwell on the past was to give it weight. And Eiden wished not to give strength to old devils.

After having practiced channelling arcane essence through his Forged arm for so long, Eiden could visualize and identify the individual actions he instinctively did throughout the process. At first, his mind focalized a single aspect of arcana leftover from the sorcerous Crowns, bringing it to the forefront. That arcana was then imbued onto aether and brought down through his meridians, or mana channels, towards his Heart of the Bodies. The spiritual veins that transported this transmutative essence were coated with argent mana, insulating his spirit from any transfigurative effects until it reached his left arm. This protection covered all of his mana reservoirs, be it the Eye of the Mind, Heart of the Bodies, or the Center of the Spirit. The pathways in between each basin were insulated as well. Yet, this covering of defiant steel did not extend unto his limbs.

It extended vertically through the basins and their channels but did not extend horizontally through the limbs.

Such was the reason why and how his Forged arm was transfigured by channelling essence of any kind. And the very same reason the rest of his body did not. The mana-flesh portions of his body were mostly coated and protected by stalwart steel. The newly Forged arm did not have this protection as it was not a product of unconscious sorcerous adaptation but of conscious spiritual manipulation.

Or at least, that was Eiden’s best guess. There was no accurate way to know—magic was prickly when it came to classification and stratification. It broke the laws of existence by simply existing. And so, how could one entirely know anything when it came to the arcane?

Hells, even its namesake was for that exact reason. Arcane. Arcana. Arca—a chest or safeguarded object in ancient high-Vitaen. Something hidden and protected from prying eyes.

Eiden had enough of magic practice for one time. His mana expenditure had reached the threshold that caused him to feel exhaustion, be it of spirit, mind, or body. And so, he took a tome from the pile of books at one of the corners of the cavern.

Pyromantea Technica, a Treatise by Trigelwurth Novigorod.

Pyromantea Technica Igni, The Elemental Fire

Flame is both an elemental energy and a physical phenomena. As an elementary spirit, it drives change in the various planes as much as its counterpart: water. Water is changed, whereas fire changes another. One is passive, and the other active in such a process.

As a physical phenomenon, it is a chemical reaction in which matter recombines to stabilize. Upon enough energy or quanta being introduced into a body of matter, it combusts. This energy may be light, heat, or even force in the form of friction. This destabilizes atoms, causing them to seek other patterns of combination. This chemical process further accelerates as the air is drawn into the reaction. The energy in the body of matter reaches great heights, needing to vent as the universal rule of harmony takes hold. As such, it releases its quanta in the form of heat and light, in the tell-tale form of “flame” as described by many of the great philosophers such as Vivaldi or Numencledes.

Flames contain the perfectory state of physical attribution called “plasma.” Its name comes from the ancient Vitaen word for molding or being molded. An apt name for the element of active change.

Plasma is fire incarnate, a pure distillate of its more earthly counterpart. When one looks for igneous elemental energy, most of its fire mana is located in the plasma of a flame. To find pure fire ether, one must look for plasma in the element's netheric anchors. Such is why cultivating such an essence is difficult and brings forth many impurities: there is so little of it. As such, aspects of spirit such as heat and force are brought forth instead of pure plasma. This causes bottlenecks in the mastery over the pyromantic arts as the true flame is ever elusive and hidden away in the dross of heat and light.

Fire as an elemental energy is chaotic. It is the driving carrier of entropy, bringing chaos out of order. The ordered cell walls of wood are consumed during a wildfire, fueling the conflagration further. Fire eats away at order, using it to fuel itself. And without substance, it cannot propagate. As such, when one uses their grey mana, or aether, to fuel a catalyst of igni, they must take care. The flames have a will of their own and will take over one’s spirit if given a chance. Do not keep a circuit of mana actively feeding into a flame if it does not have a secluded reservoir. Breath techniques help in this regard as they can limit or carve out a small amount of aether to be used in pyromancies.

The Igneous Breath

Breathing does many wonders. It keeps man alive, and it controls the spirit. Novice philosophers of the flame must dutively practice and condition their breathing according to the Igneous Breath. Pyromancy comes not from the movement of the body, but that of the lungs, more specifically, the diaphragm. The Art of Fire comes from the first mages of humanity, the Phrenics of Eld.

First, one must let go of all their breath, pushing their diaphragm up to dispel their air. Then, the pyromancer must pull in aether from their high-spirit, but they cannot yet breathe in. Such an act takes much time and discipline to do correctly as most pyromancers learn the Breath, or the ability to control spirit, by manipulating their aether by use of breathing itself.

When enough aether is in the lungs, the pyromancer must take upon their Inner Flame, the condensed core of plasma in their Center. One need only take a spark as it will easily ignite the aether upon contact.

Upon igniting the gathered aether, the pyromancer must then cycle it through their spirit. They must breathe in at this step. The gathered pneuma will carry the ignai through the channels of the spirit and protect the ethereal body from harm. The wind and water essence will adapt to the ignai, as will the ignai change them in turn. This process creates another amalgam, in turn, phlogiston. It is a neutral or inert substance until another catalyst is introduced.

A single thaum of Inner Flame, or igni, combined with any amount of phlogiston will create a Source Flame. It is a stable pyromantic construct that may be used to cast any manner of spells, be they pyromantic transmutations or pyromancies themselves.

One must be careful to introduce only pure fire essence from their Center into phlogiston. The fuel is already aspected with animus, and as such, the introduction of any more vital essence will cause anomalies. Emotions flood into the Source Flame, conjuring fears from one’s childhood, resentment for their loved ones, or even hidden hatreds of others. This will cause a Source Flame to behave erratically. Pyromancers must not let their emotions take hold over the Art, lest they burn down all around them and themselves.

Ignai is an aether-based essence as determined by the suffix “-ai,” whereas igni is not. It is a pure distillate; as such, it will have no animus (of a corporeal being) contained within (it does have its own elementary or primeval animatory force of change). One must also be careful to not introduce negative aspects as the sum total of a Source Flame is positive due to the pneuma and aether introduced during the creation of phlogiston. An annihilation event would occur if, for example, ignen was introduced into phlogiston. These events would cause a Source Flame to turn necrotic and thanatoric, burning away one’s life-force faster than an anomaly event ever could.

To introduce a negative aspect into phlogiston, the practitioner must be of an incredibly high level or dabble in the dark side of the Art.

Ashen pyromancies are strictly forbidden under the decree of the Guildam Arcanum without proper certification.

The Apprentice

Eiden skimmed through most of the treatise, only paying attention to the section about elemental flame and the technique excerpt of the Igneous Breath.

Maybe I could do something similar. Instead of just imbuing arcana onto aether, I could do that to phlogiston. The mana cost alone would be worth it.

Eiden sat a bit farther away from Fin and Bela. Then he thought better of it and went outside, towards the forest. Flames ate away at the air, and the runes Fin carved might not have been entirely apt to handle that burden.

It was the end of the afternoon, bordering upon dusk. A nice gust of wind blew past the trees, ruffling Eiden’s hair and dark brown tunic.

The mageling stood in the middle of a clearing, flammable debris all around.

This won’t do.

Eiden let out all of his breath. The vacuum of his lungs was suddenly assailed with the influx of air as his diaphragm relaxed, pulling in pneuma from his surroundings.

The vital breath travelled through the pathways of his spirit, reaching his Center. The core of deep water surrounded by furious wind picked up speed, accelerating with the addition of more pneuma. Eiden forced the added essence to push the sphere of ether, rotating it faster and faster. His Center became the seat of tempest, its very pull enough to coerce the wind around him to writhe in sympathy.

A brief pulse came from the mage’s Inner Flame, its greyen fire turning silver-white for a breath. The arcana of frigid steel came down from his mind towards his Center, radiating cold like a wintery conflagration.

To wield wind was to rule it as a tyrant and impose their will upon it in its entirety. One needed frigid-cruel blood and an iron-clad fist for the free wind to listen to their whims. The cerulean hand of oppression was its name.

Inner Flame - Dual Arcane Aspect: Stalwart Steel & Winter’s Breath.

The wind around Eiden came to an ebb as its very fabric stood frozen in place under his will. The air seemed to shimmer like water, yet its texture betrayed a nature not unlike metal—a glossy finish that reflected light in a queer manner only achieve by the polished steel of a blade or by the silver of a mirror. Hoarfrost coated the ground as fog bled from Eiden’s skin.

His spiritual core started to freeze solid, the winds that hovered over the firmament of its etheric waters having disappeared. Gossamer threads of frozen steel spread out through his spirit as it began to turn brittle and crack under the arcane influence.

The arcane fire of Eiden’s mind flared viridian green, its body turning furious like an inferno. It brought back movement to his Center, yet the cold still clung deep to his bones. Icy winds blew over the waters of the ether-core.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Storm’s Breath.

The wind around him exploded outwards, hurling all debris and dust away in an inverted vortex, tinged the color of spectral green. Wind mana had no particular color, yet depending on the gaseous composition, it sometimes glowed green, yellow, or even white. Something to do with adding in excess energy that needed to be released, Eiden reckoned. No different than why flame looked like it did—chemical reactions exhuming light dependent on the reactants.

The streams of furious wind shook leaves from the trees and rattled their branches.

Eiden manifested an auric shroud before he collapsed to a much cleaner ground, his arms and legs spreading out. The impact didn’t do much damage, his shroud negating the blunt force and his physique having been improved dramatically by the exposure to vital breath.

Half of my mana burned in a minute for what a good broom could accomplish in an hour.

Still worth it.

Though Eiden had burned through much of his aether and pneuma, he estimated he only used around fifteen percent. The feeling of having used half was only that—a sensory experience, not an actual estimate of the reality of his resources. There was much, much more mana in the body and spirit, yet it was reserved for vital functions. A mage could usually muster the use of only ten to fifteen percent of their total “free” flowing mana for the practice magic—at least, according to most tomes. Any more than that and exhaustion hit. Yet, as one practiced, their ability to forgo the spiritual fatigue and ignore it became sharper.

Eiden breathed in a pneuma-filled breath and hopped pack up.

Best time as any to practice.

The mageling breathed out the air in his lungs, his diaphragm pushing up against his lungs to expel the gaseous substance.

Empty Breath.

Slowly but surely, he pooled his aether through the channels of his spirit into his lungs. With great effort, he managed to gather his animus as without breath to carry it, he had to expend both mental and psychic energy. Through sheer will did the aether beckon to his command, slowly siphoning out from his high-spirit, trickling down in drops into his middle-spirit.

Aether was forever present throughout all of the spirit, being able to be squeezed into any area of the ethereal body. It didn’t even necessarily have to be cycled through channels as it was everywhere. The difference was that cycling it through mana pathways increased its speed yet diminished the total amount of raw magical energy. The higher form of mana was brought down into a lower vessel of ether, thus becoming unstable. It sought to flee back to the Aether.

Eiden’s heart started to beat fast and strong as his mana-flesh thrummed in sympathy to his spirit.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Scarlet Pyre.

The arcana was expelled from his mind, travelling down to his heart. There, Eiden shifted the essence through the veil-in-between. He did it slowly so as to not accumulate planar negative charge.

A red spark ignited the aether, consuming the life-force to form a fire wrought of vitality itself.

Vital Breath.

Eiden breathed in at this point, gathering pneuma from his surroundings by using the pull of his pneumatic Center. As the pneuma entered his lungs, it fought with the blood-fire ether, annihilating each other as they held antithetical arcana.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Stalwart Steel.

The two essences came to a standstill as a will greater than themselves commanded them to stop. A tidal wave of steel-like ether flooded over them, acting as both deterrent and adhesive. It bound them together like tightly wound wire.

Inner Flame - Dual Arcane Aspect: Storm’s Breath & Scarlet Pyre.

The mind-flame inside Eiden’s psyche burned vibrant red, its body of fire turning into a gale of ruby wind instead. Wind and blood essence combined, forming the arcana of empowered vital pneuma. Earth arcana went to the background as wind and water came to the fore, breathing the breath of life into a sanguine gale.

The mana inside his lungs responded to his command, slowly but surely mixing together. It was a begrudging affair for both essences, which left Eiden a bit baffled. Pneuma was present in blood essence. Yet, until he used a bit of arcanistry and mentalism, both permutations refused to fuse.

Perhaps because they are both composites? This isn’t like mixing simple wind and water ether. These two are amalgams in their own right, not elemental energy. But, maybe, it is because of the added aether. Both have a substantial amount of animatory force.

No... it's probably because one is borne from the arcane. The arcana of Hunger infuses its weave.

I've dealt with your kind before. And I've come out beaten and broken. No more.

"Be one." Screamed Eiden inside the black of his mind. His will reverberated throughout the mental plane, causing the grey waters to stir and his eyes to shine silver.

The mana that once begrudgingly took to merging now was in a frenzy to combine.

The two essences took around five minutes to fully fuse together, much to Eiden’s chagrin. He had not been able to push them into his pathways yet as they needed to thoroughly combine. So he had to hold his breath. For five abyssal minutes.

His will might've been enough to trigger a binding reaction, but it was not enough to instantly meld both arcana together. If he had been a sorcerer still, the command would've been two-fold solid, his authority unwavering as it reflected off the sorcerous plane.

The reality was not so forthcoming. Spiritualists had not the same mastery over the arcane as their brethren, the conjurors of the soul.

Probably why Trigelwurth said to use a pure distillate instead of a composite. He was a spiritualist himself. Damnit, I need to read up on more spiritual alchemy treatises. Knowing the composition of ethers would’ve helped. Even information of just arcana interaction would be boon.

When they had sufficiently mixed, Eiden pushed the corresponding ether through his spiritual veins as he vented the leftover nether with a breath. Nether was, after all, simply physical mana that acted as anchors—bindings—for its counterpart of ether. Aether was the backbone, animating mana as a puppeteer pulled the strings of their marionette. Ether were the strings and varnish. And nether was its wood.

Where does arcana fall in this equation? Thought Eiden. A question to be sought after in dusty, yet vigorously interesting tomes come nightfall, he reckoned. Maybe they are how the puppeteer moves the strings.

Another Vital Breath technique allowed the blood-tinged phlogiston to cycle through his veins even faster.

Maybe I should’ve used sky-fire instead of blood-fire.

Wait…

How am I supposed to store this?

Eiden had yet to learn how to store mana in his Center as his newborn core was done chiefly by instinct. It had happened just by taking in pneuma into his hollow Center. How was he supposed to store phlogiston there if it already had an occupant? He was not going to waste the essence after the expense of vital breath and will.

He had to think for some time before coming to a possible solution. His past practice and study showed its dividends as an idea flowered in his mind.

I could encase the phlogiston in argent-steel mana and then just send it to the water part of the core. It does act as both a binding and sealing agent. Kind of like soap, the inner slayer being hydrophobic and the outer hydrophilic. One binds to the microbe while the other holds onto water to become soluble and wash away. But, in this case, I can choose which layer sticks to what. Much more versatile.

Eiden used his breath and a few bodily movements not unlike martial forms to ease the phlogiston into his Center. Pneuma required only breath, whereas this more corporeal essence needed somatic components—it was bound as much to the blood in his body as the breath in his lungs.

As his movements allowed for better blood flow, the phlogiston cycled through his spirit in a fluid manner until it reached his Center for assimilation. The somatic forms were a mixture of solitary dance and shadow fight.

First Form: Cat’s Paw.

The distance of the gait increases to keep the center of weight lower, causing it thus to become more stable. The right palm with fingers reeled back shoots forth, the strength of the shoulders, triceps, and the spin of the attack itself lending it more power. The cat strikes.

Second Form: Fowl’s Eddy.

A hand low and another high, swirling to deflect an imaginary blade to the side. The lower hand alternates with its sibling, leaving the only gap in defense should a stab come fro. The fowl deflects with its wings.

Third Form: Serpent’s Cauldron.

Arms shifting in a pattern of a kaleidoscope, a rhythm prone to inducing trance. In between shifts of patterns, the hands strike out like whips, hitting their target with their hypothenar region—the side opposite to the thumb. One needs not the edge of a blade nor the cord of the whip. The serpent springs between the coils.

Though his execution of the Forms was shoddy at best, Eiden’s knowledge of them was immaculate, having long since memorized them from Fin’s lectures. His movements were a bit clumsy at times, and it took time for him to change between the subforms of an entire singular form sequence. He intersped the sequence with footwork that revolved like the waves of the sea, rotating him to better engage the thromb of imaginary enemies all around him.

With the end of his tri-form sequence, the phlogiston reached the primary vessel pathway for the Center, argent-steel mana coating the entirety of the spirit-artery.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Stalwart Steel.

Arcana wrapped in aether and ether reached the spirit-artery, as did the phlogiston. With a mental ushering, metal wrapped around the phlogiston, encasing it entirely. Eiden then plunged the sphere into his Center, letting it sink into the deep waters of his spirit.

A canister of flammable spirit-essence sat inside the core of his ethereal stomach, not unlike a pearl inside a clam.

Eiden reached in, parting a hole in its surface, coaxing a strand of phlogiston to cycle into his mana system. It spun in loops until it pooled into his hands, releasing into his aura. A haze of dark, earthly red clung to his palms.

His eyes shone blue as an azure spark ignited the spirit essence. It combusted the sky-fire, purging the arcana of blood from the amalgam, leaving behind a pure, orange flame. The saguinai served to enhance the conductivity of the amalgam through his ether-veins.

Eiden dismissed the flame, letting it dissipate back into Ether, and sat down for a few calculations. At his right side was a journal where he recorded the steps for his Path. He removed it from its holster. The exorcist’s watch he had was used to calculate his mana usage—Fin had taught him how to use the function long since ago. The contraption's gears pulled back to expose a mirror where spectral-blue numbers were written to represent thaums of mana expended into the device. The script itself was Cyroshi in origin, hailing lands of the Middle East. Fin had told him only a bit about the numerical script. It had propagated through the Silken Road, a trade route that started from the far east of the Kyroshi continent, slithered through the southron realm of Africaenia, and ended in the northern kingdoms of Europa. From the Reikan Empire to the country of Zerri'Kaenya and the Magistrate of Cyros to the Republic of Vitae and then eventually Northern Kedwen.

The world was much larger than it seemed, with countless peoples and far-off lands to be seen. Eiden had only taken a sip of what the world could offer. And he was thirsty for more. To be rid of King's Kedwen would be a blessing.

He shook his head, returning to the present.

The mana cost had decreased from one-tenth of his total reserves to one-twentieth. From ten percent aether usage to five. And it could be stored beforehand, so it would act as a buffer before he had to start tapping into his animatory force.

Much better. This way, I won’t risk destabilizing my Inner Gate nor shorten my lifespan should the need for more mana arise.

Eiden’s smile turned into a frown.

It takes too long to pull the essence from my core into my ether system. I need to add dedicated vessels for it. The water and wind essence scatter too much phlogiston—and if I continue to use this method, the ether-core will be tainted. Better to leave it pure.

Eiden tapped into his arcane flame once more, bringing more argent-steel mana into his Center. He evenly distributed the essence within the veins surrounding his spiritual core. He then merged them into the metallic shell that encased his Center.

Inner Flame - Dual Arcane Aspect: Azure Ember & Scarlet Pyre.

A wisp of amaranthine flame burned through the channels along the outside of his Center. He let it burn through as he held back his own spirit’s defenses. New pathways were punctured through the shell surrounding his Center. The amethyst fire had melted the argent mana into quicksilver slag.

From that molten liquid, Eiden molded veins into his ether-core, digging through its waters until he reached the phlogiston canister.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Stalwart Steel & Winter’s Breath.

The molten, metal roots that dug through his core were flash frozen by a flood of apathetic cold. His breath turned to fog, his eyes shining the color of frigid, winter sky.

Eiden fell to the ground in a heap as he could no longer stand.

Yet, he had more to do. So much more. The veins that reached into the phlogiston canister were entirely solid, not being vessels in the slightest.

Another surging of alternating blood-fire and sky-fire bore through the roots, turning them into acceptable carriers of ether. He couldn’t channel any more complex arcana such as a dual aspect. All of his superficial arcane essence had been burnt together with much of his psychic reserves. The Upper Basin of his spirit was at its dregs.

His newborn ether-veins were malformed like wrangled roots of an ancient oak, yet they would do for now. Yet, he did not dare channel any ether through them. His spirit was rather sore.

Good enough for today. I gotta go back anyway and rest up before the procedure.