The Rushing Water Temple has many lovely trails and rockeries to walk around. For the rest of the day, I spend my time crossing over redwood bridges and steeping myself in the outdoor air.
Frustration stabs at me as I listen to Advisca explain to me all the ways a demi-urgaen can lose their spiritual energy. It's a far easier route than any normal person, really. We're basically open channels for other people, but it's a good thing my thrinskar is reassuring and patient through all of my questions.
Living like a ghost in the First Chamber of Worship for three weeks has ingratiated an attitude of restlessness within me, apparently, and now that I've decided to become Totoya's student, all I can think about is the harrowing inequity of my situation.
Divine punishment in another dimension is something I have yet to understand, but Agmito assures me that when the time is right, I'll eventually understand the reason for my being here. But how can that be when I've had only murky depictions of another life for the past three weeks? Every night has been a frantic retelling of fogged shapes that can only bumble about in my dreams, all of them reaching out to me, telling me that I belong with them.
That's what makes this existence a hollow one. There is catastrophic longing in my body that I can't seem to shake off. I've also seen other things in my dreams - jaw-dropping creations that seem downright impossible. Giant, winged constructions of metal that soar the sky, holding bounties of seated people within, their countless cases of luggage stored in a lower compartment of the the vessel. Despite its massive size, it is still able to travel effortlessly across mountains and oceans. I've seen broad cities with countless, sky-reaching towers of glass, some even stretching as high as the sun. The visions are endless, the scenery vast and chaotic at times.
It makes me want to scream and shout - for I am not in that world! I'm pretty sure I used to be, though. And instead of living the abundant lifestyle that the people in my dreams have lived, I've been trapped in another body and forced to endure divine punishment from the gods... which is a cruelty in and of itself because my soul knows that its been wrought back from the abyss.
The only remedy so far has been Advisca's immeasurable fondness for me. He doesn't mind the flippant attitude with which I treat him as we circumnavigate the myriad garden areas like a pair of unburdened temple-goers. My indignity is his own; and in a world where I'm so strikingly bereft, his astuteness to be by side is commendable.
Totoya and Agmito have some last-minute duties as soon as night time comes and so they both bid me goodnight, delivering me to a building that is not the First Chamber of Worship. I'm perplexed but nonetheless grateful.
I've been admitted into a small room that is connected to the kitchens of the cooking hut. The walls are sturdy and coated in predictable tones of beige. I can't complain, though. This place may be average in size, but it is sensible and clean, the floors swept, and its stocked with a few rattan shelving units. Small, circular windows permit slivers of moonlight onto a child's bed.
This is most likely the room that they had prepared for me on my first night at Rushing Water Temple - that is, until I had opened my eyes and discovered myself to be a wretched soul implant. From then on, I had fastidiously rejected the idea of moving away from the First Chamber of Worship. I'd even begged them to shackle me at some point, fearing that I'd act on my encroaching madness and hurt someone around me.
Exhausted from twenty-fours days of interminable kneeling, and from being overloaded with all of these objectionable self-discoveries, I slowly drag myself onto the bed. It's remarkably plush and it sinks beneath me like sand, the mattress giving underneath my weight.
A thought occurs to me then... How old am I? I don't even know how old this body is. This body might even be in its teens, at the very least, but with how small and frail my stature is, its hard to tell what's genetic and what's a result of being underfed.
Master, I can sense your confusion, Advisca murmurs from outside the building.
His face lingers at the corners of my vision. I'm somewhat glad to see his bobbing head nearby, peering askance through the window. With a sigh, I jam my head back into my pillow in an effort to make it softer.
Advisca. Did I not tell you to park yourself away from me? How am I supposed to sleep with your intractable face lording over me all night?
I am merely watching over you. Master must be safe, He retorts, his indefensible giddiness influencing me to pinch my cheeks; to my chagrin, it doesn't stop the smile from forming anyway.
My internal voice squeaks at him, Go to sleep, I tell you.
I might be able to scan your soul's true age, if you are curious, Advisca says, piquing my interest slightly.
I'd rather you tell me this body's age instead. Can you do that? I ask him.
His purring is audible even from outside. After a moment of his thoughts whizzing around my head like a hive of bees, he answers with, Your physical form appears to be no older than twelve, master.
I nod, humming appreciatively at his insight. Thank you, Advisca.
You're most welcome, master.
I almost sleep... and I almost tell him to go back to guarding me in scholarly silence. But maybe being a nameless disciple of Totoya isn't exactly the path I want to walk on anymore. I raise my inner voice and ask my thrinskar, Umm... Advisca? Do you speak the Forgotten Tongue, by any chance?
My mind is filled with images of his spirit form pacing in front of an altar. Mmm. As divine companions, we have our own version of it, and can understand Alaengri when spoken by other mortals or thrinskars. Master wishes to know a word, yes?
I would like to know the word for... retribution, I reply almost instantly.
Ah, I see. My thrinskar gnaws on grass leaves for a moment, and then answers me, nonplussed, Then the word master is looking for is... 'eardifea'. I believe it is a powerful word in the Forgotten Tongue. Not many even remember the translation for it.
But you do? I hum back, distracted.
I can sense the pride simmering in our bond as he replies, Master, I am no youngling. The forgetful mortals of this world may have etched words from their language, but us divine companions never do. Our memories are long, our lives even more so.
Eardifea.
I mull this word over in my head, finding its tone and origins intriguing. The words of the Forgotten Tongue seem to hold a note of profoundness, and maybe that's why I'm so drawn to them. Advisca and Eardifea... I like the way they sound paired together.
Together we are persistence and retribution.
Okay. I have decided what my name is. Call me Eardifea.
My chest swells with Advisca's instant devotion. Of course, master.
Annoyance ticks at my mood over his insistence on being like this. Is your memory failing you already? I said to call me Eardifea, not 'master'.
His snorting face presses against the glass, those sparkling, luminescent eyes shining down like twin moons from where I lay.
Is that a command, master? He asks, joyfully.
Oh, strike me now and save me from a headache, Demalrak! Go to sleep, I snap at him.
As you wish. I shall call you 'Master Eardifea' from now on. His pleased purring strums through the night.
I pull the woolen blanket over me and sigh as we experience twinges of glee between the two of us. This spiritual thread between our souls had honestly seemed daunting at first, but slowly I am starting to find comfort in it.
I still would rather not be in this body, but I am. There's no changing that fact, and the girl who actually owns it is buried deep in my subconscious for now - only her memories pop up unexpectedly from time to time; and they're all beginning to resemble a distant dream.... A dream that keeps me shackled to a deep sense of self-loathing. But what more can I do?
Until I am strong enough to challenge the gods, I will do what I must to survive. Maybe I will even get to return this body to her, if I can. My journey towards spiritual cultivation begins tomorrow.
Acceptance rolls through me like ripples in the temple ponds, and then I empty my mind of everything. Sleep comes easily and wipes away the tension in my brows.
***
Morning breaks over me, and light bird chatter pulls me from the sweet-nothings of my echoey dream. The blankets coiled around me feel like a silky cocoon and I take a second to rub my face into it, chagrined over how I'd initially turned this offering down. I'd done myself a great disservice, that's for sure. My body has not experienced such luxury and perfection since waking up in this world.
Good morning, Eardifea. Advisca's voice chimes into my head, bright and clear like a whistle.
Where are your manners? Yesterday you were like, 'master this and master that' and now you're calling me by my name only.
The thrinskar sidesteps my grievance with an easy redirection, Perhaps you should get out of bed, Master Eardifea. Breakfast is being served in the Hall of Deep Focus.
Don't distract me... but fine, is everyone already there?
Lady Totoya is waiting for you outside. Make haste, master. He keeps his voice polite but unerringly firm in its delivery, a detail I can't help but sigh over.
I don't dawdle. I drag myself over to the shelves and poke through them, looking for something to wear. There's a pair of folded, clean clothes in my size. Some are slightly bigger, but I choose the ones that fit me. A pair of snowy harem pants and a matching robe with butterfly sleeves.
I suppose children also visit Rushing Water Temple so it makes sense for them to have accommodating sizes for overnight guests.
The kitchen is bustling with servants already. Men and women are swerving around granite counters, talkative and cheerful despite the fact that I'm an outsider careening my way past them all, eyeing each savory dish like a starved hound.
Totoya finds me straight away upon leaving the cooking hut. She's dressed in different clothes today; blue tones that remind me of an exotic flower, and a wooden staff is clutched in one hand. Her red hair is also braided back unlike the wild entanglement that I'd seen yesterday.
Her voice resonates with a mild discernment as she appraises my expression. "You must have decided on a name for yourself, little one."
"Yes. Eardifea."
The crinkles around Totoya's eyes deepen. There's no doubt that this woman knows a lot of words in the Forgotten Tongue - 'eardifea', being one of them.
Her affirmative nod somehow alleviates the pressure in my chest. I don't expect to feel so nervous about telling her, but I do. She doesn't discourage me from choosing this name. A smile of acceptance is just as powerful as a hug, I realize, and I can feel myself rubbing my neck in relief when Advisca trots towards us.
"Eardifea and Advisca. Now I can officially welcome you to Rushing Water Temple. Shall we go eat?" She says, pointing towards a pathway with her open hand.
The three of us establish a quick walking speed to get over to the hall. Advisca purrs the whole way in anticipation of the food that is to come. His good mood is nearly impossible to shield against. I find myself contaminated by his enthusiasm, an invasive spark of happiness gripping me from within and lifting the corners of my lips... How dare he influence me like this?!
Stop being so happy, Advisca. It's only food, I grumble at him.
My thrinskar is already accustomed to the lack of energy and tact in my voice, therefore his swishing tail doesn't stop in the least when I try to reprimand him. I reach over, threading one hand into his mane while we walk, my unspoken deference for this creature growing even more.
The Hall of Deep Focus welcomes us like we're old friends. Priests go about their day and nod here and there at us when we arrive, and I'm too timid to do anything else but wave.
Totoya ushers me to the same table as last time, and once more I am hounded by a whirlwind of impertinent voices. But there's one that captures my attention the most. I hear the tinkling chords of a feminine woman and they nag at me incessantly, striking at my insecurities... and they reach into me, fighting harder to get into my head today. That soft, alluring voice keeps telling me I'm an imposter and without meaning to, I fist my hands on the table, unable to keep my reaction in check. This illusionary magic is strong.
"Eardifea... We have many different places here at Rushing Water Temple. The Hall of Deep Focus is the one that I suggested you frequent with me. Agmito has also agreed. We will build your resilience to illusionary magic and help you seal your mind. Soon you will be able to eat in this hall without the interference of... whatever it is you are experiencing." She reaches across the table and grabs one of my knuckled hands.
The voices around me dissipate. It's so silent all of a sudden that I jerk in my seat.
Astounded, I say, "I have to admit, it is harder than yesterday to repress the influence of the malachite."
"My master and his master before him, Palloxe Vienarti, were all formidable casters of the true Fezenska Technique. As a demi-urgaen who isn't a native to our world, you might not know that sages have different clans and magical practices. A sage, by the way, is a person who is capable of harnessing large amounts of spiritual energy, more so than the average person. Palloxe Vienarti, the man I now speak of was a pioneer of certain spells, including the Fezenska Technique; and it is my hope to impart this clan-specific specialty onto you. Once you learn it, coming into the Hall of Deep Focus won't be a problem anymore."
Her words snare my attention instantly. I can only imagine the freedom of being able to sit here without the snide commentary of the disembodied voice.
"I'd like to hear more about the Fezenska Technique." I beseech her.
A rush of servants sweep in with trays of eggs, rolls of bread and slices of pheasant meat. I know from prior experience that another serving will be forthcoming. I humbly thank them before directing my eyes toward my master.
She grins. My eagerness for the subject must be pouring off of me. Advisca, posed behind my back like a regal guardian, stuffs his snout into my neck, a reminder for his portion of food. I grab a fluffy piece of bread and lob it over my shoulder.
Her hand pulls back from mine. Another wave of deafening insults from the illusionary magic blares into my eardrums. I shudder and roll my neck, both eyes dropping to the table. The woman in front of me clears her throat.
"First thing's first, Eardifea," Totoya makes an 'X' with her pointer fingers and explains, "This is the First Level Rapture Position that sages use when reciting in Dedjurian."
I don't know what Dedjurian is, but I mimic her pose anyway, placing my hands in front of my chest and crossing my pointer fingers so that we are mirror images of each other. "What next, Master Totoya?"
"Dedjurian is the bygone language of the Cardinal Sages; they were the first ones to discover how to cast, by the way. After studying the magic of the gods for so long, they resultantly came to the conclusion that we can access a source of spiritual power within us by casting in Dedjurian... So just know that whenever we cast, we're doing nothing more than reciting a bunch of complex, triggering phrases. Well, mostly."
"I understand."
"Then pay attention to what comes next, my dear disciple," She examines my pose and nods briefly at what she sees, continuing with a scholarly air, "Sages in this day and age have passed down the knowledge of recitations, some of them even transforming key words of Dedjurian or Alaengri so that their casting techniques can never be replicated by others... I'll give you a demonstration of one such configuration right now!"
Utter focus wipes her expression in an instant. It's like she becomes another person entirely. With a deep breath, my master pushes her hands out in front of her, her arms locked, moving the X forward until it hovers a few inches away from the middle of the table.
Before I can ask her for an explanation, Totoya changes the direction of her front-facing X. I watch as her crossed fingers fall forward but stay in the same formation; now the X is casting a shadow on the surface of the table... She slams her hands down, using unexpected force with the motion. It looks like she's pushing something heavy down.
Eyes glazed over with a distant look, she says, "Aterra fezenska!"
Something strange happens as she stops a hairs-breadth away from the table's surface... ripples of air break out from her fingertips.
I'm a scant second away from leaping away from the table when I notice the visible disturbance in the air. I stand up, ever so slowly, my heart racing in my chest. Advisca monitors me while I get to my feet and glance around with skewered bewilderment, surveying the hall that has become stock-still, the temple-goers and priests caught in motion like flies preserved in amber.
The voice that has been plaguing me since I've entered the Hall of Deep Focus... it is also mute. Somehow, everything has been made still and quiet!
"You... how did you make everything like... this?" I breathe, admiration jerking in my chest at the sight of a butterfly caught midflight.
The redhead nods, maintaining the Level One Rapture Position. "You'll be able to do it too. When a sage focuses their spiritual energy, reciting Dedjurian or Alaengrian phrases in conjunction with their applied Rapture Position, they cast what is collectively known as configurations of magic. Magic is just the output of condensed spiritual energy, if you didn't know. And the spell I just performed was the Fezenska Technique."
"Aterra fezenska. What does it mean?"
"Not many people want to know the exact meaning of the recitations, but I guess you're not like other people, are you?" Our eyes clash in silence before she gives up with a spirited shrug, saying breezily, "Fezenska is just another word for cage, and aterra means to 'place a boundary on the land' - or in other words, a wall."
"And that's a triggering phrase?"
"I said that most of them are. There are some exceptions to the rule. I'll explain more relevant history to you first."
I nod my head eagerly. "Thank you for explaining so fully, master."
Her voice then teems with overflowing fervency as she dives into another hearty explanation, "I mentioned Palloxe Vienarti before, didn't I? You'll find that although he's a polarizing figure, he's no less prestigious than the Cardinal Sages themselves. You see, he wasn't a fan of cultivating magic that was affiliated with Dedjurian. Palloxe believed the Cardinals to be a pompous lot... So he reverted to the Forgotten Tongue for his recitations. Therefore, that recitation you heard before was not a Dedjurian one but in fact an Alaengrian one. And to this day, very few sages have been able to execute his configuration, the Fezenska Technique that I just showed you. You shouldn't worry about it for now, though. For a sage that is only just learning about the craft, you might not even be able to cast in Dedjurian let alone in the Forgotten Tongue."
Her resolute calmness and charitable elaboration ring through me like a zap of energy, growing my passion for spiritual cultivation. I'm in awe. I lick my lips, somewhat excited, but that may just be a combination of my nerves mixed with Advisca's keenness.
I take my time to wrap my head around the Fezenska Technique. With minimal effort, she was able to quieten everything, to give herself a moment of peace within the Hall of Deep Focus. What a valuable skill to have, I muse to myself.
Advisca cautions, Master Eardifea. Attempting the Fezenska Technique at this point in time might be dangerous for you. There are easier recitations to begin with; why not start with them, or at least cast in Dedjurian before trying to cast in Alaengri. Starting with the language of the Forgotten Tongue is like running in a race before learning to walk. Learn Dedjurian first! I beseech you!
I ignore him. I will never know my limits if I don't define them for myself. I should at least experience the casting difficulty of the Fezenska Technique, that way I'll know just how much to improve my magic configurations under Master Totoya's tutelage.
Totoya simply knows my intentions without my assent each time I want to do something. She drops her hands and waits for me to initiate the configuration for the Fezenska Technique myself. The sounds of the world seeps back in, and I vividly hear everything once again, the illusionary magic kicking up once more.
She obviously withdrew her magic to allow me the chance to cast.
I do a less confident version of Palloxe Vienarti's Fezenska Technique, but nothing happens. I wait and wait, my fingers shaking awkwardly above the table. My fingers are crossed just like Totoya's were. I had recited the same words.
Huffing out a breath, I shake out my hands from their position and try it again.
First Level Rapture Position. The X is pressed across my chest. I double-check my fingers, and then proceed with a determined expression. I push it outward, arms fully extended and then I let the X fall down, its shadow casting across the table in front of me.
I recite, "Aterra fezenska," as I shove the X down.
It's a memorable formula of movements... What the hell went wrong?
"My dear student. Magic-casting is more than just a set of hand gestures. When reciting, you must push your will into your words. Infuse your recitation with specific intention..." Totoya says, dousing my passion for a brief moment.
No. I can't give up. I spent three weeks kneeling in the First Chamber of Worship, all because I didn't want to live in this body. How can I even think of giving up on anything right now? This is the first time that I've felt like I'm alive - like I'm meant to be here.
Well, if there's one thing I've got in abundance, its time! I'll be able to practice until I get it right.