Santimar was an Artisan, but not the type one might commonly see around, and neither were his artifacts considered common. Such meticulously intricate objects were not even known in worlds other than his own. He was a Mage Artisan in training, an adept of the Order of Yatar, which originated from the city of Tabulém, a city rooted in sacramentated mysticity, with an air of grandeur, refinement, and tradition. It was located atop a vast hill graciously covered by grass with quasi-golden foliage, amplified by the yellowish glow of its morning dewdrops. This hill, in turn, rose in the central region of several plains with the noblest specimens of fauna and flora. It was a city as rich in cultural and architectural diversity as there was variety of plants and animals in its surroundings. Tabulém was characterized by the most exuberant and imposing buildings, filled with the most diverse adornments, originating from both gentle and genius minds. Its streets and alleys were full of picturesque stained glass, and with a correct glimpse, one could easily notice sculptures and garlands at every point of interest in the city. Due to the predominant presence of polished silver inserted in the ornaments and coatings of almost all the large buildings in the city, it was commonly known as the Silver City. But what matters most in this tale being told to you is that Tabulém was also especially distinguished for being the city of origin of the famous and honorable Lunar Spark Onirins, magical artifacts capable of the most diverse feats, physical and… metaphysical. It was also known as such because the artificers responsible for such artifacts belonged to the Order of Yatar, which had its original temple headquartered in Tabulém. This implied that the city had residents from almost every corner of this world, which consequently justified the fact that its urban structure was expressed by such different influences, belonging to all the nations and regions where other temples of the Order were present, counting representatives from the majority of the peoples there.
Santimar, in turn, had skin as dark as the night, which indicated his descent from the Kingdom of Onat. He also had irises in yellowish tones as golden as the sun rays of his world. In his native land, those who were close to him jokingly liked to call him Warakol, which meant "illuminated night" in his native language, and he even liked this jocular analogy, finding it poetic. And some say in the unfolding of this story that it might even be… prophetic, as it refers to that which illuminates what is seen within the darkness. His father was a soldier of the northern frontiers of his birth Kingdom, but due to his time in service, he had been formally retired and now worked as a blacksmith in the Great Square of Abul-Jir in the center of Anterina, the capital of Onat. His mother, since very early on, was a carpet weaver and sold them in this same square, and it was there that they met, gradually and without much ado, until one day they finally married. Santimar had moved to Tabulém after a fateful call that made him become an adept not long ago, less than a decade actually.
At the moment of this blessed account, he was about to have practical teachings with one of the mentioned onirins for the first time. In this case, it would be used to manipulate the winds of the region and was more efficient when used at the highest point of the surroundings, where the strongest winds passed. It was then decided that the summit of Mount Korintai would be ideal, and it was in the middle of his slow ascent that Santimar found himself. The great Mt. Korintai was famous in the region for the numerous pilgrimages made to its summit from various parts of the world. It was a place used for the most diverse purposes, from the most recreational, like simple tourism and camping, due to its genuinely grand view, to the most scientific, such as astronomical and geographical study groups that saw it as an advantageous observation point. And there were also the most elementally ritualistic purposes, even if such ends were much less commonplace, as was the case with the group of adepts Santimar was part of. Mount Korintai had a height of about twelve hundred meters; it was not a mountain that went unnoticed even from leagues away. It had a robust brownish aspect, given the presence of a mineral similar to bronze in its rocky composition. Its summit was flat, like a small plateau, which gave space for the most varied activities on its top. Santimar walked at a calm pace, but in a marching rhythm, and beside him was Lacendir, another adept who became his friend right at the beginning of his entry into the Order, as he had joined at the same time. They had even bumped into each other as soon as they entered the Temple of Tabulém for the first time. One could say it was a fortuitous moment for both.
A little further ahead was Mirir Roi, the official Mage Artisan in charge of teaching the group in this practice, and among them were other adepts of this same Order, so secretive that many there on that occasion had not even been recognized by Santimar, even after a few years as an adept, partly because several of those adepts were wearing hoods to protect themselves from the sun. Furthermore, even though the main temple was located in Tabulém, and even though the Order of Yatar was so famous for its various deeds and contributions to the well-being of all peoples and nations of that remote planet, the same Order itself had several other smaller temples around the world, some of them so hidden that only certain selected members knew their exact location. And it seemed that a good part of the adepts present in this practical class came from these other temples, as the renown of Mage Mirir attracted quite a lot of attention among the members of the Order worldwide, not to mention the Onirins themselves, which were rarely seen by the adepts, let alone used in front of them as would be the case. Korintai was close to the horizon line, to the East when observed from the Astral Tower in the center of Tabulém, which was about three lunar cycles of the Violet Moon away if one walked from one place to the other as the group of adepts did. Its surroundings were arid; the mount was surrounded by gorges, and much further East from its position one could already see the beginning of the Golden Desert of Yalunde, so vast and showy that just observing it from the heights where Santimar already was, one easily lost sight of it, and also one's breath.
The potential Mage Artisans climbed the mount by a spiral trail, following a clearly perceptible path from having been trodden by others for immemorial times, a path that became increasingly steep and narrow towards the summit. The design of the trail even suggested that the way the route was traveled was part of a specific ritual. Mage Artisan Mirir led the way, with his robust white beard and eyes as green as emeralds. He was youthful and of good physical stature despite his graying hair and had slightly tanned skin due to his constant pilgrimages, but this did not hide his features of mountainous origins from the Vale of Tinuat, where people lived as white as snow. He wore a brown tunic made with magical threads from Faront, a region full of green hills southeast of Tabulém. Thanks to these threads, his tunic could regulate body temperature according to the external atmosphere, which prevented the Mage from feeling too much heat or cold. Despite the gradual difficulty in climbing Mount Korintai, everyone there had moderate experience in these… peculiar routes, as was expected of every Artisan, even an adept, who went in search of their own ingredients and rarest materials for the construction of their artifacts of power and also their special recipes.
The sun was already setting, and the golden desert began to gain reddish tones in its reflection, in various gradients that varied from dune to dune of sand. Such was the beauty of that natural picture that many of the adepts decided to stop walking for a while to be inspired by the scenery. However, in a moment of greater distraction, one of them stepped on a loose stone that gave way to what was supposed to be the ground, unbalancing him abruptly to the side, from a height on the mount where such a fall would certainly be fatal. Some adepts closer to him tried to hold him without success, and he plummeted from right where he was. The atmosphere of an imminent tragedy caused panic in the others, but then almost as a lightning reflex, the old Mage threw a bright rope towards the adept in free fall. Desperation had taken hold of the one who was falling aimlessly, and he kept thrashing about trying to find something to hold onto, but the rope seemed to have a life of its own and followed in his direction at high speed while seeking the ideal place on his body to hold him. Noticing this, Santimar turned his eyes to the Mage and saw that while he held one end of the rope, he was also silently conjuring one of the chants from the Book of Tir'Zuno and guiding the rope's course with his own eyes. The rope kept dodging various rocks until it finally managed to reach one of the disciple's feet, gradually slowing his fall speed until he could pull him back without causing traumatic injuries to his body. The scare passed, and at the same time, the incident confirmed the rumors of Mage Mirir's capabilities, known as the Mage of the Tireless Focus, to those who saw him in action for the first time. After tempers were appeased, they proceeded towards the summit.
While recovering from the shock of what had just happened, Santimar returned his thoughts to the chant the Mage used. He remembered one of his theoretical classes where it was said that, for greater effect of the evoked magical powers and the various enchanted tools used, the chants of the book of Tir'Zuno were sung together, which fine-tuned concentration and better guided the Artisan to the objective of his artifacts, thus avoiding possible distortions in their results. It was an origin sacred book, where all the power chants known by the Order of Yatar were present. It was known as the Book of Tir'Zuno because it was written by the creator of the Order himself, Tir'Zuno Sanctum-Alehim, known as a being of immeasurable magical power, even considered as someone taught directly by the eternal God himself. His presence in this world had lasted for millennia, and it was not well explained how he left us in the Origin Codices, but one thing is certain: it was thanks to him that the First Great War of Verentia had a favorable outcome for the just and innocent, while the Inciferi were finally annihilated. This conclusion was based on the total disappearance of any traces that these chaotic creatures of malignant intent still persisted in the world for several centuries since the end of this war. Such nefarious beasts were considered like fruits of an infernal idea. Some scholars say they were the result of the work of a powerful archmage who got lost in his own obscure studies, becoming a slave to his own shadow. Others say that the shadow wasn't properly his, but another, more perverse and abysmal, that took advantage of this same Mage while he was lost within himself… As Santimar finished elaborating his thoughts, a voice suddenly brought him back:
"With that speed of enchantment, Mage Mirir might as well be in the service of King Vamir through the Guild of Royal Mages, don't you think? It was so fast I could swear it didn't even happen." inquired Lacendir in a more relaxed tone as they started walking again, and the recent danger no longer severely affected the adepts' mood on their trail. They soon encountered the end of the path to the summit as night was already present. Generally, Lacendir always maintained a playful air but was naturally capable of taking things seriously when the situation demanded. As for his origin kinship, he was the son of traveling bards, so his exact place of conception was somewhat uncertain, even for him and his parents, but his more slanted eyes than usual more prevalently imprinted upon him, without a doubt, the blood of those who constitute the Kingdom of Gopondir.
"I'm sure he could, but perhaps the Mage's presence here teaching us is already part of the will of the King of Javatep. And even if it weren't, you well know that our Order has no greater obligations to this Kingdom than aid in its protection when it cannot do so on its own," replied Santimar, to which Lancedir agreed without much resistance.
Javatep is the Kingdom that encompasses the region where the city of Tabulém was inserted, although to a certain extent it possessed a guaranteed independence due to its intrinsic connections with the Order of Yatar since its foundation, which in turn had undisputed influence and renown in that practically entire world. It was this Order, after all, that guaranteed the definitive victory against the great horde of Inciferi in the First Great War, specifically in the Dark Battle that took place at the Fortress of Nefitarat. There is even a famous Epic about the colossal prowess of Tir'Zuno in this battle, called the Epic of Solar Justice, where it was described in detail how decisive the power attributed to him was to achieve the celebrated victory. The borders of the Kingdom of Javatep bordered the borders of the Kingdom of Onat to the West, with whom they had friendly relations since the first war of Verentia where they were allies. To the East, they bordered the borders of the Kingdom of Gopondir, on the other side of the golden desert of Yalunde, with whom they had firm trade agreements. They also bordered the borders of the Kingdom of Mahakin to the North, with whom they had relatively distant and inconstant relations, as the northern people were quite isolated, and it is also there where the Vale of Tinuat is located. And finally, they had their final boundaries with the Cartio Sea to the South. The four mentioned kingdoms then encompass the totality of the Continent of Emezira where all these kingdoms were located.
After a brief period following the trail with his friend by his side, Santimar decided to add an addendum to his previous speech. "…But our Order could certainly make good use of new ordained Mage Artisans, and secrecy doesn't help much in the admission of more adepts. Lately, the demands for our services are incessant," he said, finishing with modest airs of frustration while he observed the Mage silently much further ahead, contemplatively gazing at the already starry sky in an enigmatic way, as he used to do.
The non-ordained members of the Order of Yatar, known only as adepts, might not have special permissions to evoke certain magics nor use or build more advanced artifacts, of the types that could drastically influence the course of the world in some dangerous and irreversible way, but they were already entrusted with assisting requesters of small daily and community services, such as restoring public and domestic artifacts or aiding in the construction of new buildings and food production through the basic magic they had already learned.
Mirir was standing still, waiting for the gathering of all the adepts present before actually establishing presence on the mount's summit. Taking advantage that the final stretch of the trail had more space for a certain gathering, when Santimar eventually arrived at his side, he began to speak as if he had been participating in the conversation between Santimar and Lacendir all this time.
"Even so, the quality is worth more than the quantity of new Mage Artisans, Lord Santimar Meratin." And with a serene smile on his face, he continued. "Now, if we were to teach the secrets of magic to any mundane, futile, or fleeting being that appeared, we would have more problems than solutions in this world. Even if it is not always possible to select only the most suitable to become Mages, and even the most suitable may in the future incline their hearts towards darker ideas, as long as our means of convocation remain a mystery, true intuition itself, which is nothing more than the voice of God in the core of our souls, will continue to have a greater chance of having been the means used to influence these same convocations."
Santimar was taken by surprise at having been heard from a relatively large distance, even though he had spoken softly amid the wind rushing over the mount, but he did not ignore what was said, much less doubt his Mage's words. He remembered his own selection five years ago and how pulsating in his heart the call of the hidden path was that he treaded deep within the Valomyric Forest, so vast it could be considered a Kingdom in itself, spanning from the north of the Kingdom of Onat to the southwest of the Kingdom of Mahakin, even touching the northwest of the Kingdom of Javatep. This mysterious path that only his innermost self seemed to know where it would lead ended up in a clearing where he found none other than one of the Seven Masters of the First Order, the King-Mage Vezad Dhir-Roi.
In the Order of Yatar, the Mages were known by the title "Roi," while the King-Mages were graced with the title of "Dhir-Roi." Roi meant something close to rock or boulder, while Dhir-Roi would imply something closer to a mountain.
"You are right as always, Mage Mirir… but now that I stopped to think, wouldn't it be possible for great sages like yourself to unveil the future of those Mages who might change the inclination of their hearts?" asked Santimar discreetly, as he didn't want to seem arrogant for questioning the methods of his superiors in the Order.
"It does make sense, Santimar, after all, for someone who unravels the course of the stars in the sky, that shouldn't be difficult or anything," reinforced Lacendir in a more casual tone, given his own relaxed nature.
All the remaining disciples were present at the entrance to the summit when such considerations were posed, and it seemed that a good part of the listeners was also curious about the following answer that would come from the Mage.
"There are more variables in the core of a soul than there are possible courses for a star in the sky, Lacendir Huqma…" retorted Mirir Roi with a resolute air, to which he added. "Besides, with the exception of prophecies and divine intuitions, envisioned by the Mage of Mages himself, who made all life arise and who determines even its end, there is no certainty about the future that does not belong only to Him. For all others, the future is completely ineffable. It is possible for a sage to recognize the implications of a choice, its chain reactions and indirect consequences, but we must not forget the possible interventions of various other factors immersed in mystery, like the choices of others and the forces from beyond, for good or for ill. We can decide to cross a bridge, but who is to say if destiny will allow such a crossing? Even for a great Mage, faith in God is crucial for a safe journey in the mystery of life, for without this premise we move from pronoia, where you feel the universe conspires in your favor, to its opposite, paranoia. And decisions made manipulated by the false idea that the universe conspires against you will always work against you, potentially being tremendously disastrous."
After Mirir's speech, he indicated that everyone should follow him to the summit. The adepts took advantage of the brief walk to meditate on the Mage's recent explanations. Santimar, in turn, consented to what he heard. He reflected that even with all due care, even with an efficient discipline to avoid one's own errors and with the necessary wisdom to also avoid the errors of others, not everything can be in our control, or almost nothing, in fact. He considered that his initial assumption took for granted the predictability of our daily actions, which in turn are mirrored in the daily routine, but this is an illusion, that everything can change from night to day without us even having time to wake up properly. And that perhaps the corny feeling of security we sense daily comes from a force superior to what we call habit.
"Well then," said Mirir in a moderate voice volume that mysteriously overcame the noise of the strong wind blowing atop, calling the attention of the others to himself. "Despite good meditation, we are not here just for that. Let's then begin the main demonstration. Be attentive, for this is not something that can be done more than once in the same temporal cycle."
The wind at the summit was so strong that it even pushed those who weren't well grounded. So, rolling up his long sleeves, Mirir Roi took out an onirin from within his tunic. The artifact emitted a comforting light very much reminiscent of a full moon, and had a semi-translucent silvery spherical aspect. In a movement corresponding to the use he would make of it, he raised it above his head and began to chant aloud another chant from the book of Tir'Zuno. In a mysterious sacred language, yet recognized by his adepts, it was said:
"To the day dawning afar, I ask for your elemental strength, so that it may run through the green fields, to the south of the earth's center, good winds to comfort us!"
With that, the onirin, which fit in the palm of an adult-sized hand, began to float and then opened in half while the two separated parts rotated in opposite directions, releasing a mist of blue coloration with silvery tones that merged with the air. This allowed those present to observe that a considerable portion of the winds blowing there began to abruptly change their course towards the point indicated by the chant, towards the southwest from there, which was the true south of the continent they lived on, Emezira, as this world was commonly called. Thus, this gust of wind followed contouring the mount and soon whatever else was in its path, in an almost deafening whistling sound. One could see everything being blown by this wind following that direction, further and further away, to the point of no longer hearing the noise nor seeing the color mixed in that elementally guided magical gust. The wind at the mount's summit was no longer so strong after the applied enchantment, which allowed for a clearer conversation in that place without the Mage needing to use his mysterious resources, unraveled by the Order of Yatar over millennia of study of the structure of reality traced by the living God Himself.
Yatar was a name cultivated from a facet God the Father had in Ewahara, referring to the abundance capable of elevating matter to the ether, which explained the name of the Order to which Santimar belonged.
"Done. Now we can assure ourselves, as far as it depends on us, that the Agrarian Lands of Ririk in the Kingdom of Onat will have gentle winds to alleviate a strange heat wave afflicting them at this moment," concluded Mirir as he turned to the adepts. "I hope you paid due attention, for we cannot abuse this type of enchantment, as everything we do in this or any other region of the planet must be guided by the hand of parsimony. For what is taken too much from one place will certainly be missed in another. One of the properties of the onirin is to communicate directly with the original principle of the elements that govern the universe, and with the secret chants we can activate certain facets of these elements using the onirin as a channeler in the form of something close to an 'interdimensional prismatic bridge'. With this power used benevolently, we can bring rain, winds, fauna, and flora wherever it may be on the planet. However, everything always costs something. Now…"
Bringing with him a sudden change of atmosphere and making it explicit to the eyes and ears of all the disciples on that distant summit, away from curious ears, Mage Mirir Roi personified a more serious and even somber tone, for he was about to give one of the most serious admonitions within the Order.
"…It is true that this power can also imply a much less benevolent use, completely malevolent in fact. He who makes comforting winds can also make destructive hurricanes; he who makes light can also make darkness. Therefore, it is of extreme necessity to keep in mind the function and meaning of power itself. Using the fear of severe punishments to prevent the misuse of these latent talents is not enough, even because a moment could come when the threat of punishment would no longer have the capacity to contain anyone involved in this hypothetical intoxication of power. The ideal then would be to clarify the meaning of its use from a tender age."
He stopped to admire the infinity of the night sky for a moment; that sea of stars was inexhaustibly prestigious by itself. But few there perceived that Mage Mirir could even see a splendid communication between the stars that watched them back with subtle gentleness and benignity. After a lasting contemplation, he continued.
"One of the best ways I know to elucidate the meaning of this power is to conjecture the victory of chaos instead of fearing it, hiding it, or confronting it within the mind. And by imagining this world where evil would have won and asking oneself what would be done next, what would be the course of the universe if not through creative inspiration, which is divine? The answer I found was a void of ideas, because there simply is no logic in evil. The nefarious only knows how to destroy and corrupt what already belonged to primordial existence, but it does not know how to create anything original from itself for itself. Therefore, it will never be the real driving force of any universe, of any existence. And those who succumb to such chaotic energy become equally empty of divine inspiration."
Mage Mirir then sat on a rectangular stone in the surroundings of the central part of the summit, lit his pipe with a small spark that appeared with a snap of his fingers—a mixture of exotic smokes from different parts of the world—which incensed the environment, bringing an oneiric tranquility, and thus proceeded.
"Another considerable point is that if we truly seek fulfillment, something like the pleasure of living or a fulfilling purpose, this will never be truly possible in a world where those around us suffer through injustices. For true happiness comes from sharing, because the confirmation of joy in those who surround us justifies our own. The opposite of this would be something close to madness… like someone who laughs at their own misfortune. So, the goal of the egoist and their methods contradict themselves. There may be those defenders of egoism who would uselessly argue that they can ignore the suffering of their neighbors to savor distorted and fleeting pleasures regardless of those who suffer, but this would not be happiness. It would be the same as blinding oneself to one's surroundings while living inside a prison with golden bars created by one's own delusional machinations, until everything ends in chaos, which would be very different from a true example of the pleasure of living. Those intoxicated by power may even distract themselves for a while following the premise of the egoists, but only the truth lasts forever. Such intentional alienation will eventually charge what was ignored with interest that accumulates for the duration of the megalomania, and the perdition of the flesh and spirit are determining in these cases, one way or another."
He paused his elucidation to admire the sky once more, just as a shooting star passed between the two moons of this remote planet in a remote star system. The adepts seemed generally satisfied with the explanation; indeed, evil seemed to be in itself an idiocy, and only the most incautious or traumatized could be led astray by such an idea. But in a possible society of minds clouded by incessant distractions, it didn't seem so difficult to happen… Some doubts began to arise in the collective consciousness of the group, which did not go unnoticed by the heightened clairvoyance of Mage Mirir, who then preferred to follow his line of reasoning according to what was sensed.
"It is true that pain is inevitable at certain moments in anyone's life, and that some challenges are greater than others depending on the conditions of how each one is born. But knowing how to dialogue with these challenges and pains is what can yield us rewards and opportunities infinitely superior. Ascension can be painful, like a bird that jumps from a branch to learn to fly and falls to the ground, or like the pain it overcomes in the emergence of its feathers, but it is ascension we are talking about! Something we always warmly accept as one of the greatest rewards. Analyzing the world in eternal terms also helps a lot to appease the most immediate and sometimes traumatic conflicts. Knowing that within this eternity only what has concrete meaning continues to move towards infinity can free us from obsessions and irrelevancies. Knowing that conflicts are the works of the afflicted and deserve forgiveness when they find redemption, as a confirmation of their conquered education, and that we do this for them as well as for ourselves. For errors retained by grievances or rancor make them an active part in the minds involved, perhaps even forcing their repetition unnecessarily, and it will be of no use to perpetuate the error when it is correctness we want. So forgiveness serves not only as an act of compassion that ennobles the soul but also as a logical act that allows for better satisfaction in coexistence, bringing with it the common harmony that gratifies both soul and body."
And then a hoarse voice with a somewhat sad air inquired. The adept was camouflaged by the night for Santimar's eyes, and he also couldn't connect a known face to that voice, which sighed and asked the following:
"And if there exists someone who was designated by the stars to be present among us and does not want to stop erring, if they do not want to stop suffering, be it out of pride, resentment, or pure… madness?"
After pondering slowly on the case, without failing to show a bit of perplexity not only with the question but with its author, Mage Mirir decided to answer the question thus:
"At the end of the day, only those who want to be saved can truly be saved, for finding any pretext for our actions is not that difficult, no matter how harsh those same actions may be. See, by attentively perceiving the divine clues that God presents to us in the most sincere details of life, we can find clear reasons to seek surrender and its subsequent gratitude, even if it takes, above all, the necessary willpower to resist the possible disturbances that may arise from the feeling of guilt, the necessary humility to seek forgiveness upon recognizing one's own errors, and the necessary patience to begin to gradually understand what to do next… but there are indeed errors so grave that the limit of how far a person can be saved has unfortunately been surpassed. And believe me, there is a limit," said Mirir in a now more funereal tone. "Errors that would be worse than taking one's own life, to the point that taking one's own life would be preferable to committing such sacrilege… I prefer not to detail explicitly what such errors resemble."
Mirir hesitated to continue for a moment; his expression clearly let through unpleasant memories that made him express a deep distaste. Even so, he decided to continue.
"But suffice it to know that they refer to the drastic laceration and corruption of that which is pure, innocent, and sacred, and this being done with an air of intentional cruelty, even planned. I also know that not even God forgives blasphemy against His Spirit that permeates everything and everyone, known as the Holy Spirit in common dialect, or Great Spirit if you prefer… which in my understanding would be when an individual has the celestial opportunity to witness the magnanimous presence of the Eternal Sacred and its effects, but, even so, is capable of maliciously ridiculing such undeniably Divine presence, so as not to have to admit their existential subjection to it, in the vile attempt to want to take God's place, going so far as to sacrifice the lives of innocents in the cruelest way possible, even if futilely. It is always important to remember that our human nature is imperfect; not only is our mind capable of lying, but our heart is also capable of confusing what it feels. And by letting ourselves be guided by it, we inevitably lead ourselves to error, an error that can often be and will be mortal, including spiritually mortal. Therefore, it is undeniable to accept that without God there will never be true salvation." concluded the Mage with definitive airs.
"…and what about God then?" asked an adept this time, who even in the predominant darkness caught Santimar's attention with how her auburn hair gleamed with the reflection of the twinkling stars. Her voice was clear and sweet, the tone was composed and secure, a bit shy, but the question transpired the real interest she had in the answer. Despite the darkness that hid her face, this adept made Santimar remember a girl he had been enchanted by during his Order tasks, but he wasn't sure if it was the same one. How could it be? What were the chances of seeing her again like this? She belonged to another temple of the Order… the voice sounded the same, though, but he wasn't so sure anymore, as he hadn't spoken to her as much as he would have liked and it had been a few years since he had seen her in his more distant tasks as a disciple. But even if his interest in unraveling the owner of that voice was truly sincere, he knew in his heart that the Mage in charge would say something of even greater value now, value so great that the rest could be left for another moment, no matter how beautiful it was. So he quieted down and listened again, body and soul, to what Mage Mirir had to say.
Mirir was breathing deeply for a moment, trying to concentrate the right words within himself, feeling the inspiration that had been consecrated and guaranteed to him, to then begin what had now become a sacred sermon.
"God… Even all the definitions already cited about God would not be enough to explain Him absolutely. He is, after all, immeasurable in His eternal presence, incalculable in His infinite prowess, unpredictable in His limitless wisdom. We only know of His plans for us according to what we ourselves live and what He lets us know. Thus, we can have a notion of His vastness in this sense, but in short, His common goal for all of us could be encapsulated as the ascension of all beings towards the divine absolute that He eternally is, according to our own will. That is why we are given free will, for there would be no merit in this ascension if our own intention was not proven as the principle of our conquests, both internal and external. The final intention in this case is perhaps a greater potentiation of divinity in its own nature, and a more in-depth clarification than this about His divine intentions is beyond my own comprehension. I only know that in a world distant from this one of ours, God was born in human form. 'God With Us' was His name… or so the stars told me. And they also told me that He deliberately submitted His own immaculate flesh to the insane punishments of a people who had been chosen by Him but were irremediably lost. And it was for this same people that He committed what we can understand as the highest sacred sacrifice, to teach us especially about the supremacy of divine love even in the face of death itself, while at the same time freeing us all from a terrible end that was precipitating in the spiral of universal time. He then resurrected His flesh and ascended to the heavens, by the aureate will of Himself as the intangible absolute God who resides in Himself above all others, after achieving the trinity of the mornings of His sacred ordeal. A glorious example of His infinite greatness that, for sure, would reach all corners of this and other universes and dimensions, having also been irrefutable proof of His unconditional love for us, His creations of the most diverse natures and riches."
The mention of this destined miraculous event in Santimar's world made an unquestionably divine presence hover among them, and an angelic silence was present for a moment that none there knew how long it really was. Perhaps it was the presence of the Holy Spirit Himself mentioned by Mirir. But as if awakened from a sumptuous deep sleep, the focus turned again to the Mage Artisan, for such a lesson that converted into a sermon instigated the thirst for revelations that the adepts had always had. Soon a grave and paused voice then put an end to that mysterious and sudden silence. This voice was recognized by Santimar as that of the adept Bartur Aurok, who was practically a giant in stature compared to the others and, were it not for his more slow and gentle behavior, many would certainly fear his temper. In his own time, he asked with his typical innocent curiosity.
"But… how many worlds… are there… then?"
"It would be the same as asking me how many grains of sand exist on one of the Beaches of Minuvem, my dear Bartur. Everything in this life seems to be infinite, in all infinite directions," retorted Mage Mirir, already visibly satisfied with his clarifications. "Appreciable adepts of our honorable Order, I know the lesson had the use of the onirin as the sole stated purpose, but the existential purpose of its users seemed to me at this moment to be of greater importance, for any circumstance. I say this also because you are close to becoming licensed Mage Artisans, no longer merely adepts, which makes it even more important that you know the weight of your responsibilities…" After another brief silence to let the present adepts absorb this last passage of his, he continued. "But anyway, Tabulém will need your services in the coming days, and a good day of travel requires a good night's sleep, so the time has come for us to rest." After a brief analysis of the skies, he continued. "Given the lateness of the night, it will be better to sleep here on the summit and begin the descent in the morning. So, as a final example of the day of what the onirin is capable of, I will demonstrate its practical use by generating a comfortable space for our rest," he said smiling.
Again Mirir took his onirin, but this time placed it on the ground. He asked the adepts to step back a bit, and when the open space seemed appropriate, he began to chant another chant in a good voice, which said:
"Firm earth come bring, raw material to weave, beds for sleeping, mantle for covering!"
With that said, the onirin began to spin on the ground, releasing a green mist that mixed with the earth. From this mixture, bright structures emerged that looked like small shrubs but were made entirely of a material that seemed like cotton or linen—Santimar couldn't tell with distinction. From the tips of these structures, several lines began to branch out, developing shapes so rapidly that it looked more like a potter making a clay jar. In a few seconds, one could identify that several hammocks were being completed. At the same time, another larger structure producing a material more like leather was making a large tent over these hammocks with the same speed, while several masts of a light yet resistant wood sprouted from the ground in specific places to provide support. In a matter of a few minutes, the tent was ready, with comfortable hammocks waiting for each one present there. Mirir picked up the onirin, which had closed on the ground, and put it back in his tunic.
After a brief commotion at the demonstrated skill, the enthusiastic adepts soon accustomed themselves to the new environment and all entered the tent. Mage Mirir fed a small lamp he carried on his belt with the flame he made by snapping his fingers in a unique way. He hung it in the center of the tent, causing a greater illumination inside than the lamp's small size appeared capable of. It's also worth noting that the light projected by this magical lamp did not allow the creation of large shadows behind those present who were directly hit by its light, giving the space a pleasant ambient light aspect. Santimar could amuse himself a bit by watching his friend Lacendir jumping to see if he cast a shadow beneath him, and the cheerful mood continued for a while. But soon an understanding arose that the day's lesson had not yet completely ended, so the Mage finally began to speak:
"As you could observe, the onirins are capable of reacting in the most diverse ways. And before you ask, the chants of Tir'Zuno do not originally have phrases for all occasions, but we can combine different portions of the chants present in the book to create the desired effect. To the point that, by recognizing the essential rules of the chants, it is also possible to create chants adapted from the originals. Furthermore, the onirins can function without chanted chants, just like any other magical artifact related to the book of Tir'Zuno. But for that, it would be necessary to possess something known as transcendental focus, a technique capable of tuning our being directly with the energy source of the artifact itself. We can also see that I didn't need to recite how many hammocks were needed nor that the beds should come in the form of hammocks, for the onirin possesses a kind of own consciousness, within a margin that is limited to deciphering the core of the request made, determining what is implied in the solicitation, and thus fulfills the request in the most coherent way possible."
After the statement, the Mage informed that everyone was free to choose their hammock and retire. He recited a brief prayer and admonished them not to take too long to go to sleep, as he planned to start the journey back to Tabulém early, also because he had been summoned to a meeting at the Order's headquarters. Almost no one present knew, however, how he had been summoned from such a distant mount, which was not promptly clarified. So, while the majority of the adepts focused on choosing their hammocks while talking among themselves about various topics, Santimar went towards the Mage's hammock, which was in the center of the tent, for he wanted to make one last inquiry. He made the gesture of approaching more in poses of hierarchical ceremony within the order, raising his right palm upwards while inclining his head a bit downwards without losing sight of his Mage's face. With his intention to approach consented to by Mirir, who was still standing, he began his question:
"Blessing, Wise Mirir. Regarding the last subject discussed, I feel pressed for further clarification. I imagine that a chaotic manifestation would have to come from someone who inverted certain phrases from some sections of the chants, like those reported in the passages of the War of Verentia and the emergence of the Inciferi, correct? Considering that…"
The auburn adept overheard what was being asked and became interested, approaching. Santimar noticed her approach and, due to the ambient light caused by the magical lamp, could see her face clearly this time. At this moment, he lost concentration, for as he had imagined, her sweet voice, recognized after all, corresponded to a beauty without equal, a beauty he indeed already knew and had never forgotten. It was her! Her eyes possessed the stellar effect, a rare trait in his world where it was possible to see innumerable sparkling points of different sizes and distances in the iris of a person with this effect in their eyes, giving the impression of being a starry sky. One could even imagine or recognize constellations by gazing into someone with such eyes for long enough. The colors in the background of her iris went from a violet tone to a golden one, both in a dark enough tone to clearly see the bright points around the pupil. Before Santimar could begin to imagine a constellation in those eyes that looked back at him with a certain embarrassment—for she also recognized him—Lacendir called his attention, appearing behind her, pointing jokingly with his eyes in the direction of the Mage, who seemed to be solemnly waiting for his enchantment to pass so he could listen to the question in full.
Waking up to reality, Santimar scratched his head somewhat disconcertedly while trying to remember the point where he had stopped in his reasoning. He refocused his attention and tried to reformulate his question. The auburn adept seemed to be somewhat amused by the situation. "Noara Sudemia, I believe the question interests you as well, isn't that right?" inquired Mirir, turning to her. Immediately, she again demonstrated concise respect for the speaking space that had been given. Her name was inevitably revived in Santimar's memory, who already seemed to want to recover all the lost time without seeing her. However, the courtesy of the attention Mirir had given demanded priority for what was already in progress, forcing him to recompose himself. He then returned to the question that would be directed to the Mage as quickly as possible.
"Erhm… Considering that someone with a transcendental focus wouldn't have perverse interests, only someone inverting the chants where names of darkness are cited could bring forth results with negative effects, correct?"
Mirir analyzed Santimar with deep interest before answering. Perhaps he wanted to know if the young adult possessed some kind of latent clairvoyance that allowed him to sense cases around the world where his assumption might become reality, or that it had already happened once. He felt that the other two were also not there by chance at that moment, and an intuitively hierarchical presence more elevated within himself resonated affirmatively so that information immersed in taboos, related to the subject in question, would be passed on. After some serene exchanged glances while scratching his old beard, he prepared the ground to then expose such secret information. He made a hand signal that created a circle of muffling around the four of them in the conversation, so that no one outside this circle could focus on what was being said inside it. Then he proceeded:
"You must understand that an onirin responds directly to the essential arcane elements, which at their active base are neutral. They respect free will as was predetermined, so the artifact itself would not be capable of refusing to function, even if the request were self-destructive. Even so, it would be very difficult for a knower of the sacred chants to corrupt themselves to the point of desiring evil using an onirin, even more difficult for a master of the transcendental focus to do so. But unfortunately, it would not be impossible, for even some angels, beings imbued with crystalline light since their conception, fell… You must have heard of the theories surrounding the origin of the Inciferi, correct?" asked the Mage to the three near him in a brief pause, to which they nodded affirmatively. "Well then, that archmage did indeed exist… His name was Verundium Dhir-Roi. Yes, he was a King-Mage. Furthermore, he was one of the original Seven Masters of the First Order. However, you must not have heard this name until today, for he is now known as Irtimox, which means Astral Death, and had his birth name erased from the origin codices to prevent its careless propagation and perhaps even its imprudent recognition. For as you must know, words have power. So I ask that you keep this information as guarded as possible." This was consented to by the three adepts without further delay or hesitation. "According to the forbidden records of our Order…" Mirir then made a brief interruption to alert the three present of certain caveats. "Records that I should not reveal to mere adepts, but as you are on the verge of advancing another degree, I don't think there are problems. Besides, something tells me that you three can know this, not only can but should."
It was strange, but Santimar noticed that no one else inside the tent heard what was being said, for the other adepts were talking among themselves normally; some were even already sleeping. It was as if an invisible field was around the three and the Mage, and no sound passed through it. Santimar had no prior knowledge of the circle of muffling, but he certainly perceived its effect, as was customary for this adept to notice details that usually wouldn't attract others' attention, for he had an exceptional perception capacity, a talent of his that was recognized even by Mirir himself.
"I made sure only you were hearing this, perceptive adept," said Mage Mirir directly to Santimar. "So pay close attention… According to the forbidden records, Irtimox developed a naive yet dangerous curiosity that later became a terrible obsession about how much he could absorb from the primordial elements without losing his own identity, given that such elements are essentially from a dimension where there is no notion of an individual Self. In the course of his experiments, it is believed that Irtimox lost his consciousness without realizing it, for he had already wandered in the void plane that exists in the interstice of dimensions for too long. This ended up attracting the attention of… Kardurok, an entity that was once celestial, just like its name, but no more. It is a being as ancient as the very sky that covers us." Just the mention of this entity's name was enough to drag the attention of the three listeners towards an abysmal immensity that left them paralyzed with terror for a moment, given the chaotic pressure that this abyss emanated. But soon the benign presence of Mage Mirir redirected them towards a greater force that overpowered the presence of the abyss as easily as a light dissipates the darkness around it. Mirir continued. "Having renounced his own divinity, Kardurok became a dangerous antagonist of the celestial courts, interfering contrarily to the efforts of these same courts for the evolution of novice beings, beings in a 'growth phase' who are more… asleep to the more subtle and metaphysical realities of our shared existence. Proud to be a convicted adversary of the truth that for him is relative in the eyes of the beholder, and not the opposite, which would be correct… It is described in the records that he took advantage of Irtimox's thirst for power to deceive him with false scrolls about secrets of manipulating the primordial elements, written partially in angelic tongue, a language that Kardurok was still capable of forging certain inscriptions, despite having become prevented himself from pronouncing them, as they burned his tongue, or so Tir'Zuno said. These scrolls directed Irtimox to a forgotten crystalline dimensional plane in time, a dimension where any new individual consciousness that enters or originates there is 'crystallized' for a few infinitesimal seconds while adapting to the new cognitive fields that usually belong to a crystalline dimension. During Irtimox's crossing, at the exact moment of his crystallization, Kardurok ruptured the portal where he was and inserted a severely troubled idea into his crystallized consciousness, disappearing immediately afterwards. Unfortunately, when Irtimox came to, he was no longer the same, and what was already lost now found itself irreversibly corrupted. Irtimox seemed to remember something tenebrous that had never happened, but this false memory left him furious with everyone, furious with God, and he promised himself that he would bring ruin to all creation. An unrelenting fury seemed to consume his entire essence."
Mage Mirir gave a brief pause while trying to concentrate on the story he was explaining without thereby showing excessive displeasure, although a gravity in his tone that was not habitual to him was already showing. Then he continued:
"Tir'Zuno had displaced himself at the time to a celestial plane to meditate on deeper mysteries of his own path, and before the rest of the Seven Masters of the First Order had complete knowledge of the situation, Irtimox had already taken possession of one of the Five Imperial Sun Onirins, capable even of communicating with the Egg of Genesis. This means that these specific onirins can even create living beings with advanced intellectual, physical, and magical capabilities, even for an experienced Mage Artisan, for reserved in these onirins is the partial mapping of creation. Irtimox didn't even need to invert the chants to determine how vile he wanted these creatures to be. With his vast experience, it wasn't difficult to use the transcendental focus, even if directed towards the worst facets of reality. And that is how the first Inciferi were created." Thus concluded Mage Artisan Mirir Roi, with airs that he would say more when the time was appropriate.
After the unsettling revelation received, the three were a bit disconcerted, somewhat speechless. They didn't know why they had been "privileged" with such information. So they decided, in a silent unanimity, that the best thing at the moment would indeed be to digest what was said, and nothing better than to do that while sleeping. The lateness of the night demanded that anyway. Mage Mirir dispersed them with a brief piece of advice. "Never forget the serene light that enchants the heart of the humble!" And with a snap of his fingers, Mirir made the circle of muffling disappear. So while the three went to the remaining hammocks, Mirir proceeded to meditate a bit, trying to unravel what connection these three would have with a story that caused him so much sorrow. The Inciferi had indeed disappeared, but he knew that this didn't really mean it was over. So he turned to sleep only when everyone else was already sleeping.
The night continued serene, gentle in its unveiling of the mystery that would erupt in what we call the dawn of the next day. In his dreams, however, Santimar seemed busier than usual. He saw himself on top of a dune and from there he could see a brilliant sea in the distance. From where he was, he could identify a small vessel dancing on the waves of this gentle sea, in waters of a turquoise blue with its own luminosity of vivid yet mild intensity. He felt he could float towards the boat and so he did, being able to gradually see a figure at its helm. When he reached the beach, he perceived that its helmsman was standing on the prow, and it was none other than Vezad Dhir-Roi. The King-Mage rested his gaze on the waves of this sea. When he finally turned his eyes to Santimar, the waters of that sea gained a ruby reddish coloration, and Santimar felt that a warning would be said. Vezad finally spoke:
"What Mirir told you was at my request. For, dear Santimar, I must tell you that the time approaches for a outcome against what was asleep but not completely defeated. We don't have much time, so I'll be brief. When you wake up, go to Mage Mirir and tell him this: 'The crystal of Azerude has cracked, and the time of the prophecy begins.' He will understand. Don't forget to ask him to take you along with your companions Noara and Lacendir to the meeting he was summoned to, for I believe each of you will have an important role in the course of this inevitable saga." The words of the King-Mage resonated in Santimar, even if he didn't initially understand what that message was about, for he trusted piously in Vezad's words, regardless of how he made himself appear before him. The presence of the elder in his lucid dream was firm enough, tangible enough, touching the deepest intuition within him, so for Santimar it was as real as reality itself. Upon confirming that his warning had been captured with due seriousness, Vezad slowly returned to the helm, looked in Santimar's direction, made a hand wave, and said: "It is still early to affirm, but I feel that your presence in this existential plot will be more important than you imagine, intrepid Artisan. For from your heart sprouts the seed from which our ultimate solution will possibly thrive." Having said that, Vezad set sail towards the horizon of that sea, which now had a yellowish coloration like a topaz. With another subtle hand wave from the King-Mage, all that vision coming from a lucid dream began to vanish, as if it were a sandcastle knocked down by a wave of the sea. And when Santimar could least perceive it, it was already daytime and he had awakened.