The morning of this day had started off busy. While Santimar was still stretching, many adepts were already getting ready for the journey back to Tabulém. Santimar found it strange that his sleep had apparently been deeper than he imagined, as he seemed not to have heard all the commotion that had been going on inside the tent for some time. He noticed that Lacendir, by now fully awake and ready to leave, was talking cheerfully with Noara, who in turn was genuinely laughing at his jokes. For a moment, he thought he would like to be the one making her laugh, but at the same time, he was glad to see that his best friend was already bringing her into their social circle. He didn't even consider the possibility that his friend might be interested in her beyond a courteous friendship; he was already well married, and his beautiful wife, Emanayah, was also a friend of Santimar's. She didn't belong to the Order, but Lacendir had met her in Tabulém. She was currently caring for their small newborn son, which was a reason for celebration every time Lacendir had time to talk about such joy and blessing for him—a joy that would never cease to be considered the most tangible example of a miracle in our earthly lives, no matter how many new babies might be born daily around the world. After all, the multiplicity of such a miracle only demonstrates the generosity of the good God.
Santimar knew how faithful his friend was to his wife and never tired of hearing how happy Lacendir felt in his own marriage. So, after stretching his legs and doing some stretches, Santimar approached the two and wished them a gratuitous and vigorous good morning, which was warmly returned. This time, he tried to avoid causing new uncomfortable situations and attempted to meet Noara's eyes only between one sentence or another in the friendly conversation the three had started. Noara was from another temple of the Order, but whenever she could, she appeared at the headquarters in Tabulém. Santimar also always traveled to other Order temples and had sometimes passed by Noara's temple. It was at one of these crossroads during their respective journeys that they had met for the first time, and since then, they had even felt a assured comfort in each other's presence. But the conversations they had had until then were always brief, due to the demands assigned to them during these same journeys, for neither lacked the desire to get closer. There had even been a Flower Ball where both were fortuitously present in the Hills of Faront during the festival for harvesting the flowers used for the magical thread from the region. The courtship was inevitable; there were flirtations, touches, glances, and smiles. But when Santimar finally decided to ask her to dance, she had to leave suddenly because she was with a friend who had an urgent matter to attend to and needed her help to leave. It was the last time they had seen each other, and what could have been remained only in the fields of both their ideas until now. And after the moment shared discovering Order secrets and those of their own world together, the desire to get to know each other better had also increased. So, they looked for things to talk about in that brief interval, asking each other about the best artifacts they had ever created and used or the most remote places they had gone in search of materials. At a certain point in the conversation, however, Santimar finally recognized one of his favorite constellations in Noara's eyes: the Glass Flower constellation, which he used to admire back in Onat when he was younger, lying on the grass next to his parents' country house. More importantly, however, Santimar felt in his core that Noara emanated a gentle and comforting light that perfectly attached itself to his own essence, and she seemed to perceive this in him as well.
Mage Mirir finally decided it was time to leave and called the adepts' attention, asking them to exit the tent so he could dismantle it. Once it was emptied, he placed his onirin on the ground again and, with a simple phrase from the Book of Tir'Zuno that could serve to undo various onirin manifestations, chanted:
"What was borrowed, let it now be returned."
The onirin released a purely gray mist this time, enveloping the large tent, which reacted with tremors. Before everyone's eyes, it began contracting towards the ground. The masts were the first to disappear, returning underground. The hammocks and tent material dissolved shortly after, as if they were sea foam. In the end, the impression was that the tent had never even been there.
With the end of another onirin demonstration, they finally began the return journey. As known, it was a relatively long trail equivalent to the duration of three lunar cycles of the violet moon, or violet cycles for short, or even Onkara cycles—not counting the descent time from the mount. In this world, common time measurement was translated into the twelve lunar cycles of this mentioned moon, each cycle corresponding specifically to two traditional hours. Furthermore, in Ewahara, there are two moons, as briefly described. The first is the violet moon in question, also known as the Moon of Onkara. It occupies a modest space in the open sky when viewed with the naked eye, about the size of a sphere that could be closed within one's hand. It orbits the planet at a higher speed given its size, thus it is seen during the day twelve times, as established a priori. Night arrives during its ninth cycle, and its twelfth cycle then announces that moment of the night when the first solar rays of the next day could already be felt, predicting the end of another night. The other moon was different. Known as the Turquoise Moon or Moon of Vinkara, it is almost five times the size of the first and follows a much slower flow, having only two daily cycles: one that starts approximately at midday and another a little after the beginning of the night. As the first cycle of the Vinkara moon curiously coincides with the fourth cycle of the Onkara moon, and its second rotation coincides with the tenth rotation of the other moon, the two could be seen quite close to each other at these specific moments, which was a very pleasant sight known as the "dance of the lunar barges."
The sunny day had just begun, and Mage Mirir didn't seem to think there would be any possible delay for his already scheduled meeting, as it apparently would only start when they returned to Tabulém that day. And not only his return was expected, but also that of other Mages who were also displaced. Even so, he informed the adepts while descending Mount Korintai, at some point almost halfway down:
"We are already close to the fourth violet cycle," he said to the adepts while observing the Onkara moon rising once more from the eastern horizon, adding, "Our journey along the kivalo route until we reach Tabulém will be graced by the dance of the barges on this clear-sky day—a glorious day for sure, blessed be the divine providence." He finished with sincere enthusiasm.
Santimar had not forgotten his dream nor dismissed it as mere dreamy musing, for he well knew the powers of King-Mage Vezad. But in that crowd of adepts heading towards the city, there didn't seem to be a discreet space where he could speak with Mage Mirir about what had occurred. Nor did he think that this time the Mage's trick would be able to camouflage both of them from the other adepts, as they were all so focused on the descent, following Mirir himself. So, he first focused on finding an opportunity before they returned to Tabulém. A carefree Lacendir walked beside him, humming, and Noara was further back, seemingly daydreaming, as he observed from the corner of his eye. And despite the desire to talk more with her, he sensed that more opportune moments would eventually arise—at least that's what his heart said.
The kivalo route chosen by Mirir Roi was the shortest path between Mount Korintai and the city of Tabulém. It was a route that passed through valleys commonly associated with kivalos, which used to live freely in their extensive pastures stretching from one horizon to the other. Kivalos were a species of animal similar to horses, with the difference that they had tougher, more rigid skin, like that of rhinos and elephants, and lacked the famous manes that horses possess. Instead, they had small conical ivory horns. Furthermore, they were not as friendly as their "distant cousins" tended to be. They could be used as mounts mainly by the military, given their notable ferocity, which could be useful on a battlefield. However, taming a kivalo could generally only occur when they were raised from calves, as an adult one would not let anyone or anything get close enough to even see the shine of its black eyes without reacting violently, due to its strong territorial instincts. Fortunately, the route used that passed through these valleys was marked with magical standards bearing the crest of the Order of Yatar, with special bells tied to their extremities. These emitted a faint sound specifically unpleasant to kivalos that came too close, within a radius of fifty meters specifically, allowing for safer transit not only for the adepts in question but also for various other groups of travelers who used this same route for the most different directions and purposes.
"Look, Santimar, a herd of kivalos!" Lacendir pointed to his right as they walked at a rhythmic pace already a considerable way along the route. In the distance, Santimar could see several of these robust equines galloping across the green plains that spread as far as the eye could see. They were strong and relentless animals indeed. They were distant, but one could feel a slight tremor from their position relative to the multiple gallops originating from that distance. "What relentless kinetic force!" Santimar thought as he observed them with fascination. The same thought seemed to be completed instantly by his friend beside him—it almost seemed like telepathy, and perhaps it was. "Being run over by one of those must be a sudden end! Certain beauties are better appreciated from a distance, it seems," Lacendir added, finishing with a light laugh.
"I've ridden one of them," Noara said suddenly, seeming to have quickened her pace and was right behind them, adding, "My father is a knight here in the Kingdom of Javatep and is part of the royal cavalry. He used to let me ride his kivalo on his free days during his stations. Despite their popularized ferocity, they are quite docile when there is intimacy. My father's kivalo is named Darug; he's quite imposing with his dark blue 'carapace.'" She finished in a contented air, which soon turned nostalgic when she remembered her parents' surprise that afternoon of rest in the flowered backyard of their old house, when she had announced that she would become the newest member of the Order of Yatar after a sudden encounter with one of the Order's Mages during one of her walks with her friends through the streets of Mirrakep, the capital of Javatep.
"Wow, Noara! Who sees you so gentle wouldn't imagine all that courage!" Lacendir said with visible admiration. "I heard these kivalos have a good nose for fear, and even tamed ones wouldn't let a fearful person ride them."
Santimar found himself excited to see her involved in their trivial conversation, especially knowing of her distinct courage. "She is indeed full of beautiful qualities," he pondered with a discreet smile on his face while observing her again, lost in thought. Lacendir had noticed since the first moment an obviously romantic interest from his friend towards the newcomer to the group; he had even heard his friend talk about her, as it wasn't hard to associate that it was Noara he had been talking about all this time. The adept with oriental features then decided to quicken his pace with the excuse that he had seen a rare plant on the other side of the trail. Behold, Santimar took advantage of this "gifted" interval alone with her and risked a flourish.
"It doesn't surprise me that beauty is often accompanied by courage, seeing as one justifies the other…" the adept said subtly yet decisively, like a leaf dancing in the wind until landing on a mirror of water.
Noara heard it somewhat distractedly, but upon finally catching the carefree flirtation, she blushed and didn't quite know how to respond at first. She had also noticed to some extent how Santimar had been interested in her since the last time they saw each other, but she still didn't know exactly what she felt for him in return. For although she already found him quite secure in his positions, which conveyed an attractive security, she had in mind that there had been few times they had seen each other to get to know one another with due effort and depth. It was a fact. However, she couldn't deny that in her own core, a spark for him had also begun to glow—a particularly magical glow. For regarding her own physical attributes, she was already tired of hearing compliments about her stellar-effect eyes from almost every corner she passed. But those golden eyes of Santimar's, like the Sun of his world, didn't go unnoticed by her. "On their own merits, they were also unique," she thought while timidly connecting her gaze to his.
"You embarrass me, Santimar…" she said, trying to hide her shyness while playing with her own red curls.
"But it's true, Noara, and the truth deserves to be exalted, especially in your case," Santimar reinforced more convincingly, stopping in front of her. He looked into her eyes in a more intimate way, almost overwhelming, and added, "Besides, I couldn't help but notice the Glass Flower constellation in those rare eyes of yours—something I couldn't do the last time we saw each other. It's always been my favorite constellation." He seemed willing to "officialize" his interest in her right there, on that wild and isolated route. He wasn't a man of many detours, after all, and felt he had already lost many chances to do so.
Noara blushed even more at this courtship that not only insisted on persisting but also seemed to increase in intensity. She hesitated to show interest in those somewhat impetuous words. However, that same spark within her seemed to be gradually fed by Santimar's persistent advances, further impelling her desire to know what this attraction was all about. Would this spark be the beginning of a flame more intense than she imagined? She also remembered how her own parents used to talk about that constellation when admiring her eyes when she was little—something he couldn't have known beforehand. Could this be destiny?
Before this dance of hearts could change its rhythm from adagio to allegro, an "interlude" was provoked by Mage Mirir, though it hadn't been intentional, at least not consciously, as he was much further ahead with the other adepts and seemed entirely focused on the remaining duration of the journey. He finally signaled, after calculating how much time was left to reach Tabulém, that they would take a brief break to rest. His signaling was done through sibilant sounds, similar to those of a falcon, made with a tinoraz whistle—a small magical whistle that simulated the most diverse bird songs, insect buzzes, and other high-pitched, whispering sounds. It was already understood among the adepts that the sound of this particular bird of prey indicated a pause in the journey.
The Mage then produced a new sound with the whistle, this time more like a swallow, which meant the adepts should approach his location. When everyone was close enough to him, he indicated they would rest for about half a violet cycle, which would be about an hour in our terrestrial time. By now, they were halfway, and as there had been no setbacks during the journey so far, Mirir found a more prolonged rest appropriate, as he didn't want to arrive too tired for the meeting that awaited him.
Noara took the opportunity to tell Santimar that she would go find some higher ground where she could observe the kivalos that already roamed the portions of land closer to the horizon more attentively. What she didn't say, however, was that she would also use this opportunity to try to process what exactly was emerging between them. It seemed their proximity had suddenly shortened. Even though she felt they were on a probable "collision course" for a few cycles now, sequential or not, consecutive or not, it made her feel, at the same time, very natural and adequate with this "waltz in the dark" of theirs. Noara, however, aspired to mature this feeling with greater serenity and seriousness, and a moment alone seemed the best option to aid in this delicate process, as are all things that touch the heart.
Santimar consented somewhat reluctantly, even because the decision didn't depend on him. He didn't want this fortuitous approach between them to have stopped so abruptly. But after some brief considerations, this given space also seemed propitious to him. After all, giving time to time had always been a lesson he held close to his heart. "Patience and Wisdom," his father used to say when they fished in the river near his homeland. Before, however, he could dive into another episode of refreshing his own memories, the mysterious request of the King-Mage of his Order suddenly came to mind, which had been so well anchored in his memory during his lucid dream. So, he soon decided to turn his attention back to the present Mage and finally went to meet him.
Mage Mirir was sitting smoking his pipe of mysterious herbs once again, a bit further away from the adepts who were talking eloquently among themselves, for to him, a more efficient rest combined with a more silent atmosphere. Santimar noticed as he approached how he observed the plains with clear pleasure imprinted on his features.
"Dear Santimar, what have you been waiting so long to tell me then? I feel it must be important, seeing as you wanted to find me alone," said Mirir Roi suddenly, as soon as Santimar came within a close enough distance that he could speak without raising his voice too much. It seemed his distancing from the other adepts wasn't just for the desired quietness after all.
"Your perspicacity never fails, illustrious Roi, or would it be your clairvoyance this time?" Santimar asked in a more relaxed but respectful tone, then proceeded, as he didn't seem to expect an answer to his compliment disguised as a question. "Indeed, I have something to tell you, a message I received through my dreams from the venerable King-Mage Vezad."
The mention of Vezad Dhir-Roi's name made Mirir Roi raise his head immediately. He well knew how this King-Mage often communicated with other Order members through dreams—one of his many specialties. He also knew he never did so without a truly important purpose. The fact that he had chosen Santimar to communicate with also seemed to confirm Mirir's suspicions about the boy's importance in the events about to erupt.
"What did he say, my dear? Tell me with all the details you can remember," the Mage asked straight to the point, showing deep interest with the placid and unique seriousness he usually exalted.
Santimar sought to concentrate his attention so as not to forget even a minimum detail of what he had been instructed to communicate, given the importance both Mages demonstrated towards the subject. He took a deep breath and sought within himself the totality of that oneiric memory, which ended up not being very difficult due to its peculiar prominence within his own mind, making the message always quite clear whenever Santimar tried to remember it.
"Vezad Dhir-Roi asked me to tell you that 'The crystal of Azerude has cracked, and the time of the prophecy begins.' He also asked that you take me, Lacendir, and Noara along with your illustrious presence to the meeting that approaches this very day," Santimar exposed in the clearest and most objective way he found, even without knowing what this crystal was or which prophecy was being dealt with in the message.
Mirir said nothing for a moment, but his features no longer showed any pleasure; on the contrary, a visible consternation took the place of what before seemed serene contentment, for what was said was truly grave. Such information was present only in the most secret records of the Order. But the Crystal of Azerude was the result of a powerful magic invoked by Tir'Zuno himself at the end of the War of Verentia. His intention with this magic was to permanently seal Irtimox himself within this crystal, as eliminating his body would no longer be enough to banish his spirit, for Irtimox at that point concentrated within himself such a terribly immense power that, even in ethereal form, it wouldn't prevent him from manifesting his cruelest designs on the material plane through the Inciferi, who in turn were intrinsically linked to the will of this unconscious servant of Kardurok. By sealing Irtimox in the Crystal of Azerude, Tir'Zuno not only managed to prevent further propagation of the chaos Irtimox was disseminating in Ewahara but also provided a considerable limitation on the magical power of the Inciferi, making it possible for the other members of the Order of Yatar, in coalition with the armed forces of all the kingdoms of Ewahara still capable of fighting, to eliminate these dark beings quickly and effectively, united in the war against this absolutely threatening evil. However, the fact that the crystal had cracked could only mean that Irtimox had found a way to finally react to his seal, or that perhaps he was being aided by external forces, even with the crystal where his spirit was inserted being zealously protected by the Order itself, which had guarded it in a hidden temple within the Mountain of Agmar, beyond the Cartio Sea on the Island of Anirifa—an island immersed in incessant fogs located in an uncharted location of the Prantic Ocean. Could this reveal the presence of traitors within the Order? Soon Mirir realized the utmost importance of this meeting for which he had been summoned. He then began to walk back and forth while smoking his pipe, focusing on other details he also deemed pertinent in the transmitted message, trying to unravel if the adept Santimar standing there in front of him, not knowing what to do, had any connection to the "golden flame" mentioned in the prophecy, the one that "will melt the dark chain." It was even more difficult for the Mage to guess what role Lacendir and Noara would play in this same matter. Apparently, it was something only Vezad Dhir-Roi seemed to know at the moment.
"Santimar…" said Mirir after finally finishing his ponderings, quieting down in front of the adept who listened attentively. "Have you ever come to know about the Prophecy of the Dawn during any of your theoretical classes or individual studies?"
"I wish I could say yes, Mage, but I confess this is the first time I've heard the name of this prophecy. And if I didn't even know its name, let alone have any in-depth knowledge about it," Santimar replied sincerely.
"Indeed, not everyone knows this prophecy anymore," assured Mirir-Roi. "Seeing as it implies that the first War of Verentia did not permanently end the evil that threatened us, and not every Kingdom found it beneficial to create reasons to generate panic in its population by instigating thoughts about what could happen if Irtimox were still around. Their leaders thought its disclosure would result in great instability in the kingdoms, so this prophecy gradually fell into oblivion—a grave mistake, I imagine. However, I think it's better to leave reciting it to you when we are all in this meeting we've been summoned to. I guarantee your understanding will be more complete when we decipher it together with the other Mages and adepts."
"So you really believe my dream?" asked Santimar, somewhat relieved to perceive he wasn't making an embarrassing spectacle of himself.
"Without a shadow of a doubt, Santimar. I know how Vezad Dhir-Roi behaves to achieve his goals, and besides, your honesty, my dear, is perceptible from leagues away," replied Mirir, comforting this adept who made him very proud. "So, being a request from my superior within the Order's dictates, there would be no reason for me not to comply with such a request." He paused and looked at the sky. "Let's see, there's still some time before the rest I stipulated comes to an end, and I wouldn't like to go back on it to avoid causing unnecessary commotion. So, go find Lacendir and Noara and inform them discreetly that they are also going to the meeting. Meanwhile, I will meditate a bit more on the next developments of this new saga that is precipitating."
Having said that, the Mage made a gesture specific to the Order that represented both a greeting and a farewell, where two fingers of the right hand touched his own chest, and then these same two fingers pointed gently upwards, making this gesture towards the one receiving the detailed salute, giving Santimar to understand that he was free to go find the other two.
Santimar seemed engrossed in this prophecy story, also perplexed by what was said about the first War of Verentia not having completely ended that so infamous evil he had heard about since childhood. He remembered another moment from his lucid dream where Vezad said, "The time approaches for an outcome against what was asleep but not completely defeated." "Would this all have some relation to that crystal cracking?" he thought, pondering this while walking silently towards Lacendir, who was already in his field of vision. Noara, in turn, seemed more elusive to his perception. "Is she avoiding me?" was the thought that suddenly arose in his mind, replacing his musings about what was to come. But after a brief mental struggle, he dismissed the hasty pondering and returned to resting in the sensibleness of letting things flow naturally. As much as he preferred a properly romantic outcome between him and her, it would be of no use to force events, for nothing manipulated by external pressures would satisfy the freedom with which he viewed the ideal of love—of a possible love, at least. Anyway, the adept Artisan didn't want to keep Mirir-Roi's request waiting while pondering his own love life, especially because the subject wasn't something to be put on the back burner, even in the face of other matters concerning the heart. "Come what may, be that as it may, what is mine will not be taken from me, and now I must do what was entrusted," he thus concluded his internal monologue and focused on dealing with the referred matter with his friend, who was now within his "conversational reach."
Lacendir was at that moment talking with Bartur on the margins of the group of adepts, who were after all twenty in number. Noara was not there, and of the rest, Santimar only knew, at least by sight, half of those present, of whom he only knew the names of three other individuals: Irmilan and Maratu Poniet, twin brothers who, as one might imagine made sense, became adepts on the same occasion—or so they liked to say. Furthermore, they were from the nobility of the Kingdom of Gopondir—also something they liked to emphasize. And there was Garut Nassiri, a quieter and more observant fellow, of a feline humanoid race present in various regions of the planet but with greater demographic density and influence in the Kingdom of Onat itself, from where Santimar originated.
In Ewahara, besides the properly human race known as Merions, there were three other races analogous to humans—that is, who also possessed the same physical similarities distinctly characteristic of our race, such as walking on two legs, having two arms and hands with their famous opposable thumbs, besides cognitive, sentient, sapient, and intellectual similarities, like the structure of their own culture, scientific theories, divagations, and studies about existence, all permeated even by the gift of creation originating from divine inspiration. These other races were the Gahikas, a feline humanoid race that was actually alien and came to settle in Ewahara millennia ago, a few centuries before Tir'Zuno himself created the first Order of Yatar, when the mothership of this interplanetary race crashed on this very planet after decades spent searching for a new habitable land traveling through sidereal space, as their original planet had been destroyed in a terrible cataclysm—or so the elders of this race reported through their generations in their new home. The Bhraks, who in turn were a curiously "rocky" race, possessed a thick mineral coating that connected from their epithelial tissue to their bone structure, giving them a very rigid body, which could be considered hard as rock in a entirely literal sense. They were a race of naturally superhuman strength, which was even necessary to bear the weight of their own body. Their origin was in the depths of the northern mountains, in the surroundings of the Vale of Tinuat in the Kingdom of Mahakin. In an indeterminate distant Era, they simply began to emerge from within the cave connections existing in these mountains, and no one knows for sure how this happened nor how long they had already inhabited the depths of these caves before emerging on the surface. Popular legends say that a primordial elemental being of great power decided to transmit his hermetic knowledge to the mountains themselves, and this was the result. And lastly, the Liveros, a slender race of flying beings that was relatively recent. They had large wings that grew from their backs with multicolored feathers that varied from individual to individual. The Liveros, in turn, used to be ordinary humans. The Order's codices recount that the original tribe that gave rise to this new race was situated on a remote island located far east of the continent, and they had discovered about three centuries ago a method of metamorphosis for elaborating wings on their own bodies. Over time, the method was lost (on purpose, perhaps), but only after the descendants of this tribe began to be born this way naturally.
It is worth clarifying that the fact that Santimar didn't know so many members of that group was more due to the reason that adepts usually only gathered in groups on special occasions like this one. Often their trainings were more isolated; there was no common classroom for everyone back at the temple, as the focus of habitual training preferred the direct exchange of teachings between Mage and disciple. So, it was customary for Mages to instruct one to three disciples at a time in routine tasks, rotating both Mages and disciples according to the demands of the temple itself and each individual. Thus, the disciples Santimar usually saw in his internal classes were Lacendir himself, whom he met right upon his arrival at the temple, and Bartur, whom he met in one of his first classes.
Bartur was giving his sonorous and paused laughs at Lacendir's sharp jokes. He was of such great stature that he more resembled a Bhrak (perhaps some ancestry?). Lacendir was about to start another of his infamous jokes when Santimar approached, which caught his attention.
"Hey Santiii, good that you're here! I was about to tell a new joke that even you haven't heard yet!" said Lacendir animatedly, who used to call Santimar 'Santi' when he was more relaxed than normal.
"Look how good, Lacen, I was really needing to unwind, go ahead," replied Santimar in the same relaxed manner, sort of leaving to relay the message he had been entrusted with when Noara decided to appear. "And oops, Bartur, your laugh is great!" he added while giving a light slap on Bartur's large back, who smiled back.
"So," continued Lacendir, "a doctor arrives for a patient who just had an accident and says in a very funereal tone, 'I'm sorry to say you only have a left leg.' The patient, still somewhat disoriented, goes into shock and says, already crying, 'Really, doctor? But how did this happen?!' The doctor takes a deep breath, looks into her eyes, and finishes, 'It's because the other one is the right one.'"
Santimar gives a short, disconcerted laugh that is easily drowned out by Bartur's booming laugh beside him. He was already accustomed to his friend's somewhat stupid little jokes but still liked to hear them to lighten his own mood.
"That was terrible, haha, tell more," said Santimar after Bartur contained himself.
"Ok, ok, I'm being very requested today; I'm going to start charging admission," said Lacendir jokingly. "Let's see, there's the one about the clock! Have you tried…"
"RIIHEEAAARRRRHFHFHeGHhgHhgh!!!…"
Before, however, he could complete his joke, a startling and strange noise of panic broke the comfort and unpretentiousness of everyone there. It seemed to be the agonizing whinny of an adult kivalo, but what could have caused something so unexpected and unsettling there in that isolated region? A sinister air took hold of the place, and the adepts seemed taken by a morbid silence. Despite the vast flatness of that plain, certain areas were hidden by high reliefs. The noise came from behind one of these earth elevations, and no one seemed very interested or encouraged to go see what was there.
Santimar seemed to want to wait for Mirir to join them to give some indication of what to do next, but as soon as he remembered that Noara was not with them, he dashed off after her. Lacendir wanted to say something to stop him, but he refused any mention of being impeded by seriously looking back at his friend, who in turn consented to let him go, also remembering that the new friend was not there. Santimar couldn't see her in the surroundings, and it was unlikely that she was in the area where that scream originated. The noise was not human, or similar to any sound any humanoid race would make, as far as he could remember. But she had mentioned her experience with kivalos before; could she be near this specific one? He didn't want to push his luck, so he decided to approach the hill and moved slowly around it.
Behold, Santimar finally came face to face with "something" that moved furiously while tearing the flesh of an animal lying on the ground. It had its back turned, so it didn't notice Santimar observing it.
That thing was certainly not human, nor anything similar in the human sense of the word. It was an aberration; its very appearance was in itself repulsive and terrifying. It was eating the flesh of a kivalo that hadn't even stopped breathing—what a suffering death the animal was having, and it was a notably large kivalo. That creature was no joke. Santimar couldn't contain his gasp of astonishment upon witnessing this spectacle of horrors, which immediately caught the creature's attention. With sudden, unpredictable, and rectilinear movements, the animal quickly moved towards Santimar, who in turn was immobile, trying to analyze the situation and decide his own reaction without yielding to panic. Those movements more resembled those of an insect preparing to attack, but the being there in front of him more resembled a grim reptilian, a fallen dragon. Could it be possible that it was…
"AN INCIFERUS!" exclaimed Mirir from behind Santimar, immediately pulling him aside. Santimar saw that he already wielded his Eokkin dagger, a silver enchanted dagger. It was immersed in an orange fire that didn't seem to burn Mirir's hands. Mirir's presence made the inciferus recoil a bit, but the recoil seemed only for the purpose of recalculating its attack strategy. The creature seemed to study which of the two would be the priority target. Despite the dreadfulness of its form, there was intelligence there; Santimar didn't like what he discovered. Mirir then realized he had been chosen as the target when the inciferus crouched in his direction. Before the creature could leap, Mirir evoked two syllables of the Tir'Zuno chant in a grave voice that made the ground under the inciferus tremble, causing the monster to lose its balance for a moment. Mirir took the opportunity to throw his dagger into the creature's forehead, which, to Santimar's surprise, was not enough to kill the creature instantly. It began to thrash furiously towards the two, but there was a rope tied to Mirir's dagger—that same rope he had used to save the adept from the fall on Mount Korintai. Holding the rope firmly while the creature seemed to resist, Mirir again intoned another syllable of the chant, coated with fury in his voice. A burst of fire ran along the rope, and when it reached the end tied to the dagger, it exploded in the inciferus's face, which let out a deafening roar, finally making it yield to the ground, motionless.
"So Vezad was right…" said Mage Mirir mysteriously while cleaning his dagger of that blood which, even though burned by the flame, exuded a putrid smell.
Still not believing what had just occurred, a stunned Santimar tried to gather his thoughts into something that made sense to get out of the state of incredulity he was in. He didn't seem to have heard the Mage's comment.
"My God… but… but weren't they destroyed, Mage Mirir???" he asked, still somewhat disoriented by the mortal risk he had just suffered.
Only after a complete analysis of the creature's lifeless body to confirm its death indeed and climbing the steepest point nearby to ensure there were no more inciferi around the entire group of adepts did Mirir turn to the perplexed adept.
"They had disappeared, Santimar, and it's been about nine centuries since they were last seen. But absence doesn't always mean nonexistence, so…"
Before, however, Mirir could complete his reasoning, Santimar finally concluded what Mirir meant by "did not permanently end the evil" and what Vezad meant by "not completely defeated." He soon wanted to pronounce this conclusion of his in search of its validation by Mage Mirir.
"If Irtimox was not completely annihilated, nothing more elementary than to consider that the Inciferi, his extensions in a way, would still threaten to resurface now that the crystal has cracked! It was already enough for them to start appearing again!"
"Exactly, Santimar," assured Mirir. "I feared this would happen at some point in the next cycles, but I didn't imagine it would be so unexpected. Luckily, at least, this inciferus's power indicates they haven't been fully summoned yet; it didn't possess magical powers, and its intelligence still seemed limited to that of a simple hunting beast. But… the fact that it appeared so close to us made it seem like there was a planned intent in its emergence. We must return to Tabulém as quickly as possible!"
Mirir used his magical whistle again, and this time a sound resembling a rook was heard, but in a graver tone, which emitted precisely the gravity of this call, specific for emergency cases. Thus, all the adepts quickly came to meet the two there beside the lifeless bodies of the kivalo and the inciferus itself. Noara came from the opposite side of the others; it seemed she had distanced herself more than Santimar initially thought, but it comforted him to see she was well.
There was a general commotion the moment the adepts saw the inciferus's carcass. Many wanted to know what that was exactly and how it had died. Some were stunned by the whole scene; a hubbub arose at that hour, and Mirir Roi had to raise his voice to silence the inopportune noise.
"Quiet!" he said, echoing his voice with a gravity that demanded obedience. After the silence that certainly followed, he spoke in a softer tone. "I know… many justifiable questions are being generated by the situation here present, but I assure you that all the more in-depth answers for the case await us in Tabulém. That's why we must return soon without delay, now more than ever. Know only that yes, this is an inciferus…" This statement generated a succession of open-mouthed and stupefied expressions among the adepts; Bartur himself, with all that size, seemed the most abysmal. Before panic could take hold, Mirir continued with his argument. "Stay calm; it's still early to alarm ourselves. Just one of them, so easily defeated, does not present an immediate danger. But we must indeed prepare to avoid the worst." Mirir paused for a moment and closed his eyes; there was concentration in his expression nonetheless. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes again and said, "The Order already knows of the occurrence and has just sent two groups of Falkins in our direction to meet us on the path and provide escort if necessary. Anyway, let's get going."
They set off walking with long, quick steps towards Tabulém. Half the journey still remained, but at the speed they were going, the remaining route would take only half the previously estimated time. It's worth noting that Falkin was the name given to a squadron of official Mage Artisans who were especially trained for combat. These Mage soldiers were commonly called Foremuis. Mirir used to be the commander of a Dalkar, which was equivalent to a battalion of Foremuis, and there were no larger combat forces than this within the Order of Yatar, as it had always been very rigid in its selection, which consequently made it somewhat small in quantity—even more so because not all adepts licensed in the Order specialized in combat. Even considering all these points, the military portion of the Order compensated in the quality of its military power if necessary, as a single Mage with belligerent aptitudes could be worth more than 10,000 soldiers with just one well-positioned invocation. In Mirir's case, he was given the mission to train more adepts given how prudent and versed he was with magical instruments and stellar knowledge. But if circumstances demanded, it wouldn't be hard to see him reinstated to his old battle position. The fact that he was there with the adepts made it seem to Santimar's eyes that it was indeed divine providence.
Santimar went back to walking with the others but was glad to see Noara approaching him during the walk. Lacendir, in turn, seemed immersed in thoughts, which was uncommon for him, but the situation was not common. Perhaps he was thinking about his child; it was likely. The young adept with the stellar-effect eyes then sought to speak without losing her breath during that return walk, which was now a march with long strides.
"Are you alright, Santimar? I heard you were there at the time with Mage Mirir," she asked with tender concern, looking Santimar in the eyes.
"I'm fine, thanks to the Mage. Thank you for asking," he smiled sincerely, looking back at her. "But where did you go? I… ended up in that situation because I couldn't find you and thought you might be near the origin of that dying scream the kivalo gave…"
"Oh my God, do you know how I would have felt if you had died going after me?" Noara replied, a bit shocked. "Please, don't do that again."
"But what if you really were there?" Santimar refuted. "How would I have felt if I hadn't done anything?"
"If I were there, it would be different, but…" Noara stopped for a moment. "Thank you… and, well, what a funny thing, right? Us here arguing as if we already had something going on."
"And don't we?" Santimar considered without hesitation. He made a sign for Noara to wait, and the two paused the march, letting the remaining adepts distance themselves by a few meters, then continued. "Look, I know all this might be too sudden, especially with this crisis precipitating, but is it wise to deceive the heart, even in risky situations? There's no denying that even after so long without seeing each other, something strong connects us—a touch of tender light that sprouted in our core, airs of flowers whose fragrance impregnated. I don't want to rush any stage, but I feel that the time that passed without us seeing each other really needs to be recovered…"
Santimar was silenced before finishing his speech by a kiss from Noara. The kiss lasted a few seconds, but the urgency of everything they had just been through didn't let it last longer.
"You're right, Santi… but let's leave talking more about this for when we're in a safer place."
"That's true, yes… let's keep going," said Santimar in a mix of resolution, relief, and satisfaction. Holding Noara's hand, they hurried to regroup with the other adepts.
"But anyway… where were you?" Santimar recalled the unanswered question.
"I had taken the opportunity to observe the kivalos more closely, but the truth is I was also thinking about us and went to ask the stars for help about what this new encounter of ours meant."
"And what did they tell you?" said Santimar, now more relaxed and curious.
"You might not know this, Santi, but these eyes of mine aren't just decorative, and 'stellar effect' isn't a name that only describes their appearance. Sometimes I can see things in the sky that aren't seen with common eyes—messages, signs, among other… peculiarities. The most interesting thing is that the sky itself knows this and has been dialoguing with me according to what touches me at the moment for as long as I can remember. And at that moment, what was touching me was you," she said, smiling at Santimar. "When I went to spend some time alone before this recent… dark appearance… the sky wanted to tell me something that concerns you. There was this exuberant garden with a beautiful ornamented gazebo, and I was there… with you." She said it quickly, somewhat embarrassed, even though interested, but gave the impression that she didn't want to elaborate more on this vision, at least not there, in that almost post-traumatic situation. Also because she didn't want to contemplate such a vision more deeply with him without first having the convicted confirmation from Santimar that his interest in her was serious enough. She then returned to the rest of what she had to say. "…But the most relevant to this evil sign we just witnessed is that right after our more… intimate vision, I had another, more… enigmatic one. I saw us inside a golden, flaming, impassable bond against the onslaughts of a shadow of nefarious energy. The bond demonstrated so much strength that it seemed unbreakable. The shadow still tried to surround it, but the very light emanating from the bond also dissipated the extensions of this shadow. This time, Lacendir was also inside this bond, and others too that I couldn't recognize. It was a bit after this last vision that I heard the kivalo's scream and tried to return to the group with slow steps so as not to attract attention… and I can't really explain it well, Santi, but we must have a very important role in what is to come."
Santimar was amazed by what he heard, both in the romantic sense and in the… prophetic sense. To tell the truth, he had never considered himself of such utmost importance in the outcome of anything other than his own life. But after so many consecutive signs of a possible essential role in this plot on his part, he thought it better to consider all this with much more seriousness. He felt that Vezad Dhir-Roi could shed more light on his destiny, seeing as it was he himself who had found him in that auspicious encounter in such an immense forest—an encounter far from being by chance.
They walked in silence for a while without holding hands anymore. Santimar seemed immersed in thoughts, wanting to assimilate all that series of new events and information as quickly as he could. There was now less than a cycle of travel left, and he began to rest in the hope that perhaps they wouldn't have any more contact with inciferi on the path, even materialized with significant limitations. Santimar knew firsthand how dangerous they could still be. After his prolonged mental rumination on the most diverse themes, he finally remembered what he had been entrusted with by Mage Mirir.
"I had almost forgotten, but Mirir asked me to inform you, and Lacendir too, that the three of us will participate in the meeting he was summoned to. He mentioned a prophecy that would be explained there—the Prophecy of the Dawn. Have you heard of it, Noara?" Santimar seemed determined to know as much as possible about the subject before the approaching meeting.
"I don't think I've actually heard this prophecy itself, but if I remember correctly…" She stopped to scour her memory for a couple of seconds. "That's it! Once, when I was studying in my temple's library, I overheard two order officers talking in low voices about the origins of this prophecy, in one of the book wings near the study table where I was. I heard the mention that it was Tir'Zuno himself who evoked this prophecy, a little before he disappeared."
"Interesting… I wonder where Tir'Zuno is and if he will return to prevent some new calamity… But speaking of home temple, why don't you explain why your temple isn't the same as mine?" said Santimar in a somewhat jocular tone but definitely hopeful. "And after all, what is your Kingdom of origin? Mine, you must imagine, is the Kingdom of Onat, right? My father was a soldier of the northern frontiers there; now he's a blacksmith in the great square of Abul-Jir, but he must already be wanting to retire."
Despite the tenebrous moment they had shared less than an hour ago, both seemed to take the chance to get to know each other better to also appease the spirits that were still somewhat turbulent. Nothing better, it seemed, than having mild conversations in these moments, even better if they were of romantic interest.
"So, haha… yes," Noara replied, somewhat awkwardly but also hopeful. "My parents are somewhat influential in the region… so they pulled some strings and managed to keep me closer to them. So since I became an adept, I mainly frequent the temple in Mirrakep, as you might remember from our brief conversations on the floating stations of the garunte transports where we met by chance twice. And this is the first time I've returned to Tabulém since that Ball… but I've always loved visiting it; it's a beautiful city…" she said, smiling at him.
"Not more beautiful than you, Noara…" said Santimar, taking her hand again, this time caressing it while holding it more firmly, to assure her of the same certainty he felt—that he wanted her well and safe. As he continued to speak: "Of course I remember your temple; several times I wanted more missions that passed there, especially since we've always been theoretically in the same Kingdom—me in Tabulém and you in Mirrakep. But I ended up stuck in Tabulém for a while, as I was required to focus more on intensive meditation training. I ended up detaching myself quite a bit from much of what was happening around me for a good while. So we remained like this, so close and yet so far. But I would never forget you, nor that Ball—the Flower Ball in the Hills of Faront, where I almost had you in my hands, and how anguished I was not knowing if I would have another chance to find you again."
Noara seemed taken by surprise by the so poetic confession but liked this surprise, responding with her eyes, with a marked smile, and then with a kiss on his shoulder as she moved closer to him while they walked. It really didn't seem like mere fleeting passion; it was something more tenacious, something more subtle and lasting.
After a prolonged moment for the two, they finally decided to fit into the seriousness of the group as a whole and forced their pace towards Tabulém. The danger didn't cease to exist just because their romance had been confirmed there, on that same occasion, in those plains that were so peaceful many would never even imagine or believe what had occurred so gravely and sinisterly very few cycles ago. And just when another cycle was ending, behold, Tabulém appeared on the horizon. Everyone already tired and anxious now felt safer and relieved.
It was already late afternoon, and the stars were beginning to appear. With Tabulém still on the horizon, Garut, the Gahika adept, noticed two small mounted groups coming towards their group of adepts guided by Mage Mirir. They were undoubtedly the Falkins that Mirir-Roi had mentioned. Garut had privileged vision, even in the dark—effects of his lineage. Behold, he alerts the group.
"Look! The Falkins are approaching! Mage Mirir, what do you want us to do?"
"Excellent, Garut. Let's take the opportunity to rest a bit while they approach. I see everyone is here; I will intone a revitalization chant in the meantime." He soon signaled for everyone to gather in a circle and began another of these benign chants of Tir'Zuno.
"The breath that is gone, let it return to its place, the pains that accumulate, let them now dissipate, bringing well-being."
Having said that, a green, pulsating mantle with a fumigating perfume took the ground and seemed to infuse everyone, giving airs of vigor as well as comfort on the faces of those already taken by this serene fragrance. After a few minutes, the group seemed as if they hadn't just trekked all day.
"Aaaahhh, what a relief!" exclaimed Lacendir while stretching, then tried to inhale as much as possible of the green mist that was already beginning to dissipate. Noara seemed amused by the scene, Bartur too. Only Santimar didn't seem so present in the situation; from time to time, his thoughts returned to the Inciferi, the prophecy, and his role in all this—not only his, apparently, but also his friend's and his dear Noara's, whom he already feared something might happen to. Before, however, he could show apprehension, he felt a bump! It was Lacendir with his jocular way wanting Santimar to cheer up a bit.
"Look, Santimar, the best part of danger is surviving it, and what an thrill, right? Relax, man, the worst is over; we are safe and sound now. Let's enjoy the occasion!" said Lacendir in one of his moments of popular wisdom.
"Yeah… you're right, Lacen. If we don't enjoy the victory, then it doesn't differ much from a defeat," Santimar agreed with a smile on his face. He was about to turn to Noara when he was suddenly interrupted, this time by someone he hadn't even stopped to think about until now.
"But what victory was that, anyway? Surviving by luck? Pfff, don't make me laugh. You should recognize how weak you are and find a hole to hide in. It's not every time that Mirir will be around to take care of you."
Santimar didn't know this individual, but he already didn't like his tone of voice, his mockery and pessimism. However, he soon recognized his voice; it was that adept who asked the question about who refuses to stop suffering. That once melancholic voice now seemed more acidic, but Santimar was sure it was the same—that unmistakable hoarseness.
"Hm, first of all, who are you?" Santimar asked dryly. He didn't like talking to someone who already treated him with asperity without even giving him a name to respond to. The mysterious adept seemed to ignore the question, looking sideways at Santimar and then into the void, as if he didn't care to give his name. He was an ordinary human and had very pale skin, but the paleness didn't seem normal; it emanated a feverish white, of someone who refused to get sun. Soon Santimar realized it was not for nothing, for even during the day he always walked hooded.
"His name is Nefuri, and this disdain seems to follow him wherever he goes," said Noara with certain distaste on her face. Santimar nodded with his eyes at the response.
"Well then, Nefuri, you seem intent on being unpleasant. I don't know your story, but I also don't know a convincing reason for someone to be discourteous gratuitously. So, whatever your path, it doesn't justify it. As for your opinion on recent events, you are mistaken; any chance to move forward is good enough to be at least content."
"Ha! What nonsense. Move forward to where? To the hole you came from?" Nefuri questioned with a disagreeable cynicism.
"In that case, I wouldn't be moving forward; I'd be going backwards, wouldn't I?" Santimar replied in an ironic tone, ignoring the implicit insults in the ignoble question, which seemed to have bothered Nefuri.
"Bah! Enough of this conversation; I'm even nauseated. I'm getting away from you before I get contaminated with your presence!"
"But what…!" Lacendir already seemed to want to teach Nefuri a lesson when he turned his back and started to walk away. Santimar, however, quickly stopped him and said in a lower tone so that Nefuri wouldn't hear him as he left. "Calm down, friend; why exchange words here and now with someone who already punishes himself enough with his own acidity? Besides, we have other greater concerns at stake." Lacendir said nothing more but took a deep breath and came back to himself.
"But one thing causes me strangeness…" Santimar inquired suddenly. "How did someone so negative become an adept? Could you shed some light on the case, Noara? Since you seem to know each other longer… and light you certainly don't lack, seeing as you radiate in excess."
"Thank you, Santiii, I see you've taken a liking to embarrassing me!" said Noara, laughing and blushing once again, then continued in a more austere tone. "Anyway, Nefuri and I are from the same temple, and he wasn't always like this. But it's been a good while since he became this new… 'version' of himself, so much so that I can hardly even remember the time when he wasn't… like this. I don't know if I'm making myself clear, but something happened to him that kept making him more and more melancholic and rude. I was even more friendly with him, if you can believe it; I used to talk to him during the breaks of our theoretical classes back in Mirrakep, but today I can't even stand being near him. The Mages of our temple have already tried everything to help him, but as Mirir-Roi himself said back on Mount Korintai, in the end, you can only help those who truly want help."
"True… well, in that case, there isn't much mere adepts like us can do. I imagine he is being observed by the Order's Mages at all moments, and it would cost me to believe they would want someone like that manipulating an Onirin. But I've also never heard of anyone being expelled from the Order during our recent history. I even hope it doesn't have to come to that, that he frees himself from whatever is tormenting him before whatever it is that is tormenting him frees itself from him…" Santimar concluded after pondering what Noari reported, to which she immediately agreed. Lacendir, however, got a bit stuck with all that; he seemed to have preferred that all that impetuosity be resolved in a more practical way.
Behold, the Falkins finally arrived. There were two groups, but only one captain was present, as could be perceived by their attire. They all wore cloaks with metal plates and orange turbans, but only one wore a black turban with gold plates, indicating his superior rank in the hierarchy. Behold, this same captain dismounted from his kivalo, also clad in golden metal armor, and approached Mirir-Roi. When he reached him, he prostrated himself in a sign of reverence to someone of higher hierarchy than his, even if absent from the function.
"This is not necessary, Tahen-Torr. You know how I find all this pomp a bit… disconcerting, not to mention that I am not exercising my military position at this moment," said Mirir-Roi, gently raising the captain.
"Exercising or not your position actively, you are still my superior, Mirir-Roi. Besides, you well know that your position is for life, so even here in this backwater, teaching these adepts, such premise continues to hold," replied Tahen-Torr, wanting to prostrate himself again.
"Ha! You really have no way, Captain; your rigidity to norms has always been perhaps your strong point, and at the same time weak," Mirir laughed a little, then continued with due seriousness. "But alright, let's get to what matters. It's true; we faced an inciferus not far from here, on the trail of the wild kivalos. It was not complete regarding data on its intellect and magical powers, but even an imperfect inciferus would have been extremely dangerous for someone unprepared. Moreover, the gravest in all this is the ominous sign it represents."
The captain expressed an undeniable sorrow in his features; he became even more serious, even if it was hard to imagine. With a more urgent tone, he signaled with his hands for two foremuis and told them to search the perimeter, one on each side of the road within a radius of five kilometers. He ordered a third foremui to go after the slain inciferus with two others of his choice to take possession of its body to conduct it to the Order's laboratory in Tabulém. Meanwhile, he suggested to Mirir-Roi that one of the two falkin platoons escort the group of adepts back to the city.
"Alright, Tahen-Torr, I agree with your directives. Let's move forward, but be careful; these animals are as cunning as imagined, even in the incomplete state this one was in. But who knows how many others are out there, and if they are also incomplete." Having said that, Mirir-Roi bid farewell with a martial salute specific to the Order's military, which was responded to in the same way by Tahen. It involved the right fist closed next to the forehead with the palm facing forward. Then both moved away, and the captain continued with the remaining falkin to search other adjacent areas in a larger radius of length.
Beyond the cloaks wrapped in armor, the foremuis also carried retractable shields and spears with them. And while the shields were capable of creating a considerable protection field, the spears were capable of firing light projectiles with significant destructive power, not to mention the arduous combat-focused training they received. All this made Mirir believe they were more than properly prepared to face even a small group of these incomplete inciferi, which is why he felt safer turning his thoughts to the emergency meeting they would have as soon as possible.
Given everything that had happened during a journey that should have been a simple practical lesson during a routine mission of an Order Mage, some important details pressed to be clarified. After all, how did the crystal crack? How was there no prior warning from the Crystal's guardians? Who could be behind this? Was it really the time of the prophecy? These were the questions that anchored themselves in Mirir-Roi's mind at this moment.