Millennial Mage

Tala was filled with mixed feelings, and to her great astonishment, they weren’t a mix of guilt and anger.

She was cautiously hopeful, while being nervous about how the next day would go.

She had faced her anger and put it in its proper context. She had pulled it off of the nebulous concept of “her family,” and it now rested where it belonged: on her parents. More to the point, it was no longer a hot, burning, uncontrollable rage. Instead, it had flipped to a cold void of tightly regulated fury.

The emotion no longer hurt her to probe.

The feelings no longer mastered her when she considered them.

She was in control of how she felt, and cold wrath was just fine with her. It might fade gradually, or it might not. Only time would tell.

A part of her hated that she was so angry with her parents, however justified. She wanted to love them, and be with them, but that would require both them and her to be different people.

And, unfortunately, if they hadn’t done what they had, she wouldn’t be who she was.

Not that that makes it better.

Still, that line of thought brought with it a dawning revelation. If I could go back and change things, I wouldn’t.

Without her slurry of emotions, she’d likely have pursued a more standard path of Magic.

Without her debts, given partially by her parents, she wouldn’t have worked to circumvent the mageling process. She might not even have pursued a job with the Caravanners.

If she hadn’t done that, she’d not have met Lyn, in all likelihood. She wouldn’t have met Rane or Mistress Odera. She wouldn’t have traveled to the other cities so soon. She wouldn’t have met Terry, or been able to get Kit or Flow.

Everything in my life that is good has come as a result, either directly or indirectly, of the wrong they did to me.

Did that make it right?

Rust no.

Did that make it better?

Yeah, no. Slag that.

But did it reframe the experience.

I’m not a helpless victim, here. I have chosen my own path, and I am better for the trials I walked through. If I changed what made me, me, I wouldn’t be me anymore. And she found that she did like who she was.

It sounded incredibly cheesy when she put it that way, and she felt a smile tug at her lips.

Terry cooed and nuzzled closer to her neck.

She’d offered to let him back in Kit, but he’d looked around at the empty streets and decided to stay out.

“Nalac seemed to like you.”

Terry trilled, and if she had to put words to the sound, it would have been, “Well, obviously.”

Tala laughed, her thoughts sliding smoothly to her siblings.

Her feelings for her brothers and sisters were a mixed bag, but that was to be expected. They were practically strangers to her, and she to them.

There was real potential for building relationships with them, provided they could clear the rubble of her mistakes and lay a good foundation.

That was an exciting prospect if she was being honest.

She was content with who, what, and where she was.

All in all, she felt at peace with how things stood.

-That’s right you do!-

Alat had mostly kept from commenting through the day, only sending her thoughts to Tala to help her shape what she was sharing, and how she was speaking. It had been fantastic to have a second mind working in the background, helping her to be clear and concise, as well as avoid too many foot-in-mouth moments. Now, however, the alternate interface seemed overjoyed.

-Tala, we’re there. We’re right there!-

Tala frowned for a moment, as she was walking across the park. We’re…? Oh! Really?

-Yes! I need yourhelp on this last part.-

Tala pulled Kit off her belt and looked around. There were no convenient surfaces, nearby.

A couple of lone walls stood in the park for children to use in certain games, but they weren’t nearby. What was close, however, was a tree.

Huh. That should work.

She tossed Kit against the tree and laughed with joy as a door perfectly molded to the large oak. A doorway formed where she’d tossed the pouch.

It was textured just like the bark it had covered over, seeming inset into the tree, somehow not raising the surface noticeably. If she hadn’t seen it grow there, she’d have missed it entirely.

That’s amazing.

-Tala, focus.-

Right! She still grinned. This opened so many possibilities. I wonder if I can make it free-standing? Now was not the time for that sort of experimentation, however.

She stepped through the narrower-than-standard entrance, finding the inside of Kit unchanged.

Strangely enough, from the inside, the door looked like it had since the storage device had subsumed the syphon fascia. Illusion magic?

It wasn’t, at least not according to her mage-sight. Instead, the door’s appearance seemed to be the result of the incredibly dexterous use of dimensional power. We really should study how Kit manipulates power at some point.

-Yes, but that point is not now.-

Tala tossed some jerky for Terry, and the terror bird flickered off her shoulder and away to his comfortable corner, already swallowing the bit of jerked meat.

She smiled, stretching slightly, before sitting on the floor, cross-legged. She began to go through the familiar motions of making tea, not focusing on where each tool came from as she needed it. Each thing, from pot to tea to incorporator, was simply in her hand as she went to use them.

It was a surprisingly meditative process, if she was being honest, and that really helped center her, releasing the last of her giddy tension from the day.

Once she had a warm cup of chamomile in her hand, she took in a deep breath, relishing the scent. A small sip confirmed her biases. Wow, this is so, so much better than the stuff at that tea house.

It was really too bad that she couldn’t go back to Makinaven any time soon.

After another sip, Tala turned her mage-sight inward, diving within herself.

Soon, it was as if she floated before a field of power.

Her spiritual self and her physical body were now pressed firmly together, stitched into unity by threads of magic.

At the center of it all sat her gate, like a planet surrounded by its rings. It was gushing power, using the entire structure as a conduit.

This is me?

-This is a visual, metaphorical representation of you, amalgamated from across planes of existence that defy the ability to be represented physically.-

So…yes?

-…yes, Tala. This is you.-

Tala grinned. Nope.

-Why are you being difficult?-

This is us.

Somehow, Tala could feel Alat freeze within her mind.

Alat? There was nothing but silence for the space of a few breaths of time.

Finally, the alternate interface responded. -I don’t think that is true.- Her mental voice sounded small.

Well, I disagree. This might not be all of you, but that soul right there? Somehow, Tala was able to “point” towards the gate. That gate is ours.

Alat didn’t seem to have a response for that.

Tala decided to move on. So, what do we need to do?

Their perspective shifted as Alat brought Tala’s focus to the outer edge. The great circular…rugs? That’s a horrible metaphor.

The great circular rugs were entirely stitched together, but there was still something missing.

A finishing stitch around the perimeter.

-Precisely. You are fully fused, but the fusion is not set.-

Well, let’s get to work.

And so they did.

The two worked together, using Tala’s Archon star to weave the thread of power and magic back and forth in a crosshatch.

As they continued, it became a sort of game.

Tala would almost toss the Archon star, trailing power, down through the edge of her being, and Alat would catch it, before tossing it back up, through another place just further around the edge.

The motions quickly became rote.

Tala’s extensive practice with her soul, as well as fine-magical control, allowed her to have the endurance and precision to simply fly around the circumference.

Alat matched her stitch for stitch.

In what felt like no time at all, they came to the end.

Somehow, it also felt like Tala had never done anything else in all her life. She’d only ever existed here, within herself, striving to be one with her fractured being.

It was an unsettling feeling that also brought with it incredible relief as from reaching the end of a long, arduous journey.

Together, she and Alat pulled the last stitch tight, knotting it in a spell-form that both felt entirely alien, and like the only thing that could possibly go there.

It was like finding the last puzzle piece, which had been hidden. She’d never seen it before, but it was blindingly obvious what was needed.

Power rippled through the entirety of the spiritual construct and it began to pull in on itself, spiraling inward faster that Tala could track.

And just like that, she was done.

Tala opened her eyes and let her focus move outward once more.

She could see her own aura, mimicked by the magic of the through-spike, shinning orange before her mage-sight.

We did it. We’re FUSED!!!

* * *

Tala didn’t honestly remember climbing into her bed and falling into a deep sleep, though as soon as she woke up, Alat provided her with the memory.

The illusory vista outside her bedroom window greeted her with a stunning sunrise as she sprang to her feet.

I’m FUSED!!!!

She gasped. Master Jevin said I could talk to anyone of sufficient rank to learn how to Refine, once I was Fused.

That was another reason to go to the Constructionist’s Guild.

Her mind flicked out as she wanted to know the time, and the answer came. It was well past midnight.

I’ll go in the morning, before breakfast with Mistress Odera.

Giddy with elation at her accomplishment, Tala moved through her morning routine. Then, because she’d missed it, she went through her nightly routine as well.

There was a lot of overlap, and as such, she actually felt quite sore by the end, and the fatigue extended to her mind, magic, and soul as well.

Thankfully, the physical side of it began to pass quickly, as her reserves diminished a marginal amount. The rest would take a bit longer to recover, but she expected to be right as rain by midmorning.

Hah. Right as Rane. She chuckled to herself.

Alat groaned within her head.

Fine, fine. Time to eat!

She cooked herself a large breakfast and ate it with gusto, the flavors seeming new after her Fusing.

I don’t feel much different, aside from happy. Alat? Are we different?

-Your spells are functioning both more powerfully and more efficiently for their power output, but I can’t say by exactly how much. The power coming through your gate is more attuned to you and on a deeper level, but not fundamentally so. Thus, I think that, because of that, it is powering your spell-forms and natural magics more effectively.-

Good to know.

-There is some…disquiet throughout your being, however.-

Tala looked within herself, and she thought she could see what Alat meant. It’s like I’m settling, adjusting to this new state.

-Just like you had to after you became Bound.-

That’s what I was thinking.

She finished up her first breakfast and checked the time again.

Still much too early to bother the Constructionists. I need to speak to someone of high standing, and I need them in a good mood.

That decided, she would head to the work-yard first, to charge the cargo-slots. They’d be leaving the next day, after all.

“Terry, want to come?”

He lifted his head, then tilted it quizzically.

“I don’t think there will be many people about.”

Without responding, he flickered to her shoulder, and she stepped out of Kit, and back into the park.

With a practiced motion, Tala pulled the pouch from the tree and hung it on her belt, looking up at the starry sky overhead. There wasn’t even the barest hint of light to the east, but she hadn’t expected to see any given the hour.

Without any further delay, she set out toward the work yard.

It was an easy trek with her pressure distribution scripts giving her sure footing on ice and snow alike.

As she considered it, they’d probably make things worse if it was a truly flat sheet of ice, but because the ice was in small patches, part of her weight always fell on a place with good traction available.

Thus, it was only about half an hour before she’d reached the wagons, charged the slots, and was looking for the nearest Constructionist Guildhall.

-I’d actually recommend the one on the far side of the city. It is listed as the main hall for that guild in this city, so you are more likely to find who you need. Also, it’s a bit of a walk, so we’ll arrive at a better time.-

Tala nodded at that.

Mistress Odera wouldn’t expect her until a bit later in the morning, so the extra distance wouldn’t be a problem. It would be nice if I could fly, like Cazor can. Though, I’d obviously have to use a different method.

-There are several ways that we might be able to do just that, though they would all come with their own particular quirks and…dangers.-

Maybe later, then. Today’s too important to risk on untested methods.

Alat made a happy little sound, for some reason, then began directing Tala through the streets of Marliweather.

In what felt like no time at all, they arrived at the Guildhall.

There still wasn’t light in the eastern sky, but it was winter, and they were actually inside what most people would call “business hours.”

Let’s see what we find.

Tala approached the Constructionist Guild and found that this hall was more like Makinaven than Bandfast.

A sturdy door stood closed, but not locked, sealing off the entrance to the building from the elements.

Tala smiled at the memories of dropping through to talk with Master Jevin and get his advice. I hope that the higher ups are as kind, here.

She pushed open the door, feeling the familiar magics of a magical scan before a deep GONG announced her arrival.

Huh, I think I like the bell better? She wasn’t sure, actually. The deep resonating sound was somehow pleasant and comforting.

Terry squawked in soft irritation, but otherwise didn’t move.

An attendant rushed out to greet her, bowing. “Welcome, Archon. How can we be of assistance, today?” His eyes flicked to Terry but didn’t linger.

Good to know not everyone in the city is over-enamored by arcanous creatures. Tala checked, and the attendant had a nametag on. “Well, Master Apalo, I am looking to meet with a member of your Guild for two matters. One could be handled by any one in management, but the other requires someone who is Refined, or farther.”

Apalo bowed again. “Certainly, Mistress…”

“Oh! My apologies. I am Tala.”

“Certainly, Mistress Tala. Master Hafest arrived a short time ago. If you’ll allow me a moment, I can go and see if he has availability?”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Can I offer you anything, while you wait?”

“No, thank you. I’m quite all right.”

“As you say, Mistress. If you change your mind, the waiting room is just through that door.”

Tala nodded her thanks, and the attendant departed down one of the side hallways.

Less than two minutes later, Apalo returned with an older Mage, gestured towards Tala, and ducked back into the attendant’s waiting room.

The Mage, clearly Hafest, walked over to Tala, smiling warmly in greeting. “Well met, Mistress Tala.” His mage-sight flickered on and off so quickly that she almost missed it. He had wings of grey in his otherwise blonde hair and a short-trimmed beard decorated his strong-jawed face. His simple Mage’s robes were of a quilted material, clearly meant for added warmth.

“Well met, Master Hafest.” She bowed just slightly. By what her mage-sight was telling her, Hafest was a Paragon with power oriented towards fire, force, and magical power, directly. Immaterial and Material Guide? She wasn’t used to Paragon’s being open for such a detailed scan. Most that she’d seen held their aura almost as a shield against such inspection.

“Come this way. It sounds like we’ve some things to discuss.” He led her down the hall to a small sitting room, activating copper privacy scripts as they sat in the rather plain space.

“Thank you for taking your time to meet with me.”

“Of course! That’s why I’m here. Now, if you wouldn’t mind a guess as to at least one of the reasons?” There was a twinkle in his eyes.

She smiled, gesturing for him to go on.

“You’re newly Fused, am I right?”

“That’s correct.”

“So, someone already told you to seek aid as soon as you hit that step.”

“Indeed, yes.”

“Good, good.” He leaned back, nodding to himself. “So, my guess. You are here to ask about the Refining process.”

“That is correct.”

“Wonderful!” He chuckled happily to himself. “I have good news and bad.”

Tala frowned. “Oh?”

“Good news first. There is a well-known, widely available process for Refining that anyone can do, but it is…uncomfortable. I can assess you for which set of tools you’ll need to do it right, should you choose to walk that path.”

“That is good news. I’m no stranger to discomfort for purposes of long-term gain.”

He laughed, grinning broadly. “Fair enough. Fair enough. You know your own mind.” His mirth faded, and he leaned forward once again. “So, the bad news: You’ll have to wait. If you begin Refining in earnest before your being has settled into being Fused, you’ll cripple yourself for future growth. You would permanently throw your system out of whack, and you’d never be able to reach Paragon.”

Tala’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well, thank you for the warning. How long do I wait?”

“Common wisdom is at least twice as long as it took you to Fuse, but that’s just a shorthand. Some believe that it makes folk feel like they have control over their waiting time. But, honestly, that’s a load of swill.”

So… a few months by that reckoning? “What do you mean? What’s the right way to estimate?”

“Well, some people Fuse in an instant, when they come to an understanding of themselves that is soul deep, and clearly they can’t just immediately move on to being Refined.” He shook his head with a smile. “I once sat in on a raising where the newly Bound Archon Fused on the spot.” His smile widened. “Now, that was a well-adjusted kid.”

Oh. “Kid?”

He grunted. “Well, they were probably close to fifty, but these things are relative.”

Yeah, so it would seem.

“Some take a hundred years to face their inner struggles and find equilibrium, and they certainly don’t have to wait two hundred more.”

“So, how long?”

“Honestly? It’s different for each person. We can test for that, too. Well, we can at least test to see how unsettled your being is. I’ve not seen it settle faster than a year, though.”

Tala grimaced but nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. Everything in its proper time.”

“That’s a good way to view it.” Hafest scratched his chin. “If you don’t mind me saying it, you seem like you’re on the young side for your advancement. I don’t know your story, and I don’t need to, but if you’ll pardon some advice?”

She nodded again.

“Stay at this level until you’ve been settled for at least a year. There can occasionally be complications even when the test shows a Mage to be fully settled.”

That’s good to know. “I’ll consider it.”

“Now, you can take steps down the path towards Refined, even while you’re waiting. It’s a common enough practice, honestly. You just can’t initiate the process.”

“Will it shift my aura?”

He frowned. “You make a wager or something?”

She shook her head, and he grunted.

“Well, it can, though I’ve never seen the prep work move a Mage past half-way through, at least from looking at their aura, but you shouldn’t aim for that. If you start Refining without proper procedures, the survival rates only about ten percent, even if all the prep-work is well laid and verified.”

Tala’s eyes widened. “Well, that seems like something to avoid, then.”

“Indeed.” He smiled a bit consolingly. “I’m sorry to not have better news.”

“You’ve told me what’s needed, and I’m grateful. What is the prep work like?”

Hafest grinned once more. “Glad you asked! Mostly, it’s incorporating body strengthening and enhancing scripts around your other spell-work.”

What. It was not a question. As she quickly considered the topic, she realized that it wasn’t that much of a surprise.

“It’s expensive, and it requires an inscriber of incredible skill to do the fine work. Without such an inscriber, it’s hard not to disrupt what you’re already doing with your power. The best around is over in Bandfast.”

That’s right, she is.

“But she doesn’t usually take on new clients, unless there’s something real special about them.”

“Mistress Holly?”

He paused. “Yes, actually.” He narrowed his gaze. “What did you say your name was, again?”

“Tala.”

He scratched his beard. “Mistress Tala…Mistress Tala…Blood Archon?”

“That’s me.”

“Well, rust me to ruin.” He held out his hand. “Good to meet you! I didn’t realize you were that Tala.”

Tala shook his hand, feeling awkward. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not every day that someone uses an entirely new type of medium. That sticks in your mind.”

“Oh, well. I suppose that makes sense. Thank you.”

“So, does that answer that line of questions?”

She frowned, shaking her head. “What if I already have body enhancing scripts? Shouldn’t I already be moving through the beginning stages towards Refined?”

“Oh! That’s a great question. No, though it will start to happen soon.”

“What?”

“A Bound’s power just isn’t sufficient to make the type of weighty changes required. But now, you’ve a Fused’s power running through you.”

“But the scripts are the same. Shouldn’t it just be a bit more efficient?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “That’s like saying a blade cuts the same no matter how much pressure is behind it.”

“Ahh, I see.”

“Yeah, I thought you would.”

“So, the power will begin to cut deeper into my natural pathways and physical being, making the changes more a fundamental part of me, rather than a mere change in form?”

“That is quite well put. Yes.”

“Huh. Well, this is going to be interesting.” She looked down at her hands, and if she were a betting woman, she would say that there was the smallest bit of shift in her aura towards yellow. Less than a percent of a percent, but it seemed like there was a shift. Or I’m just imagining things because I want there to be a change.

“Once you have the scripts, if you’re an Immaterial Guide, you can seek out other sources of natural magic that align with body enhancement, absorb them, and align the power with your scripts.”

“What about other quadrants.”

He grunted. “No easier road through the early stages than as an Immaterial Guide. I thought I remembered you were one, but if I remembered incorrectly, there are some techniques you could use, but they aren’t as effective.”

“Oh, no. I’m an Immaterial Guide; I was just curious.”

“Oh, fair enough. You have another tool, then. I’m glad to hear it. Now, what was the other matter you wanted to discuss?”

Tala nodded, reorienting herself to the next discussion. She briefly described the function of the iron paint, its efficacy, and how the Bandfast Constructionists were already using it.

At that point, Hafest’s eyes unfocused, as if he were looking at something distant. “Those rusting cheaters.” He shook his head and laughed. “That’s why their efficiency has been rising?” Hafest grinned from ear to ear. “So, assuming I believe you, and I’m inclined to, what about it? We don’t have any, not at the moment.”

“Oh, no. I’m not hoping to buy any from you. I’m hoping to make an introduction between you and an Alchemist who could supply it for you.”

Hafest leaned back, biting his lip in thought as he scratched his chin. “Interesting. Alright. I’ll meet with the Alchemist. Can’t promise I’ll buy from them, or buy this from anyone, but I’m interested.”

“Would you like a demonstration of its potential, at least in a niche use?”

He gave her a skeptical look. “Wouldn’t that be something that the Alchemist would provide?”

“Maybe, but I happen to have an easy demonstration, and I’d prefer that the Alchemist not witness it.”

“Well, now you have me curious. What do you have in mind?”

“First, this is why I have a through-spike.”

Hafest nodded slowly. “Interesting. Go on.”

“I am not casting anything, I will simply be suppressing the visual illusion that is currently active over my person.”

He leaned forward, looking like a child awaiting their birthday present. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Tala looked within herself, using her ability to manipulate magic to reach into the through-spike and disable the illusion.

“Well, rust my biscuits.” His eyes widened in obvious surprise. “Are those spell-echos?”

Tala nodded.

He reached out, then hesitated. “May I?”

She smiled. “Of course.” She held out her hand to him, and he took it.

“These aren’t actually in the air.” He turned her hand this way and that, muttering to himself, but Tala heard him perfectly. “The light is a side-effect of it reverberating through the fabric of reality.” He shook his head, looking up and addressing her. “How are you not dead from magic poisoning? If I did this, I’d be ripped apart in an instant.”

“The specific scripts that I use.”

He grunted. “You’d be a perfect candidate for Mistress Holly.” He shook his head again. “What am I saying? It’s obvious that you already are inscribed by her. Correct?”

“That’s right.”

He let go of her hand, sitting back.

Tala let the illusion return.

“And that’s the paint your Alchemist will be selling?”

“Well, no. This paint is on me, and will be quite useless when it comes off, but she will be using the same formula.”

Hafest gave her an incredulous look, but it didn’t last. He snorted a laugh. “Fine, fine. That was well said.” He nodded. “I’ll accept that demonstration, if you’ll sign a statement that it’s the same formula.”

“To the best of my knowledge.”

“To the best of your knowledge.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“Great. Then all I have to do is negotiate with the wee Alchemist on costs and quantities.” He rubbed his hands together. “When will you bring her by?”

“This afternoon?”

He nodded to himself. “I can make that work. I’ll need to spend a chunk of the morning figuring out how much we can use, and in what timeframes, but yeah. I can meet with you. Late afternoon?”

“We can be flexible.”

“Alright then. I look forward to it.”