Millennial Mage

Tala and her unit were on their way to yet another cell.

Tala was initially quite alarmed when she heard about the assignment. It had only been a month since the doomsday vault cell, and if it had gone through the full rotation to get back to them that quickly…

Blessedly, things weren’t that bad.

Instead, their luck with the doomsday vault meant that they had been left at the top of the rotation.

True, Tala, herself, had been cut in half—which her unit had dutifully reported—but that part wasn’t really as spread around as the fact that they’d gotten a ‘dangerless’ cell overall.

Regardless, this next cell was simply the next one to need maintenance.

Once a month is actually a slowing when compared to how things were going, as well as a welcome reprieve, honestly. Though, all wanings had cycles, so this might just be a momentary cooldown.

Happy thoughts, Tala.

Among the other units, there had been talk of hanging their whole unit if they lucked into another doomsday vault—or something like it—but it was obvious that most were joking.

At least Tala hoped that they were.

After all, there were some rather powerful individuals in the other units, and she was still recovering.

On the positive side, even if they hung her, she’d probably be fine?

She could make herself float for one, and even if that didn’t work—for some reason—she could just heal.

-They were joking, Tala… and that’s dark.-

Yeah, yeah, I know… Tala sighed.

-You’re still a bit off. Are you sure you’re up for this mission?-

Almost as if echoing Alat’s mindset, Mistress Cerna glanced toward Tala from where she sat, piloting their airborne vehicle. “Mistress Tala? How are you feeling?”

“I’m recovering well enough.” Tala smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “Mistress Vanga assessed my stores at nearly half-filled, and I think that I’ve put the… trauma of effectively cutting myself in half behind me.”

Their unit leader glanced to the Healer who nodded once.

Master Clevnis grunted, interjecting into the small silence. “Yeah, that wasn’t the nicest of cuts.”

She knew that she’d likely regret it, but Tala asked anyway, “How, exactly, do you assess the ‘niceness’ of a cut?”

“Oh! Can I take this one?” Master Limmestare interjected even as the larger man opened his mouth.

Master Clevnis grimaced. “Cuts are sort of my thing.”

“No, no, my friend. That is why you aren’t a Paragon yet. Edges are your thing. Cuts are what you make with those edges, and how you assess them.”

Master Clevnis blinked at Master Limmestare a few times. Finally, he put his head in his hands. “Rust. You’re right. Fine, you can say it.”

To Tala’s surprise, she thought she saw Master Clevnis’s aura ticked slightly toward Paragon. She barked a laugh. “Is that actually news to you?”

He looked her way, his grimace growing. “No, of course not, but I had never thought of it in exactly that way.”

Mistress Cerna gave a wry smile. “Oftentimes we get so focused on what is right in front of us that we lose sight of why we were focused on it to begin with. We help each other by pushing against our assumptions.”

The older woman glanced toward her other unit mate, and sighed.

“Yes, Master Limmestare, you can proceed.”

Master Limmestare’s grin grew as he turned back to Tala. “The answer is obvious. The cleanliness of a cut is determined by the state of the material on either side of the cut when you are done.”

Tala found herself nodding. “That actually makes a lot of sense. A bad cut will leave the surrounding material mashed, or broken, or otherwise disturbed, but a ‘perfect’ cut will not affect it at all.”

“Precisely.”

Master Clevnis looked to his wife. “Can I hit him?”

Mistress Cerna shook her head in response. “One does not discipline a child for being correct, even if their being correct makes you frustrated or look bad.”

“Oh, I know that, love. I want to hit him for being disrespectful.”

She tilted her head to the side as if considering.

Master Limmestare’s eyes widened a bit. “Hey, wait a minute now—”

She nodded, ignoring the protesting glass archon. “I’ll allow it.”

Master Clevnis’s face blossomed with obvious joy as he moved toward his unit-mate.

“No.” The single word from their—until then—silent Paragon stopped everyone.

Mistress Cerna continued to pilot, but her growing smile vanished immediately.

Everyone else turned to regard the man sitting cross-legged in the back of their craft.

Even Terry paused his revelry, glancing down from his perch.

There hadn’t been any magic in the word, but there was something about him that essentially commanded obedience.

The man wore precisely traditional Mage’s robes of a flat gray linen. The buttons were similarly gray, but stone, purposely scuffed to a matte finish, causing them to almost disappear into the surrounding fabric.

Even though his rock solid aura was held just outside of his body—sufficient to encompass his clothing as well—it was obvious that he was more fit even than the standard Mage.

It was an odd thing, looking at him with her threefold sight. Tala effectively had a blank spot in her otherwise incredibly detailed three dimensional, complete understanding of what was around her.

True, that’s what she expected any time someone’s aura kept her out, but it was still something that she was getting used to, and it was more stark with this Paragon than usual.

He hadn’t opened his eyes to speak, but Tala remembered them as an almost violently bright green, reminding her of Thron’s corrosive magics.

His hair and beard were trimmed close to the skin, while still being obviously present.

Not that I’ve seen many bald Refined, let alone those more advanced.

His sleeves were rolled up, exposing bulky, defined forearms and hands that looked strong enough to crush stones.

He wore no jewelry nor any magical item that Tala could detect.

His inscriptions were crisp and precise, even while being somehow muddled by the man’s aura so that Tala couldn’t determine anything about them aside from their presence.

Tala would have been tempted to call him ‘the boulder’ if he hadn’t given his name when they first met.

When he didn’t speak further for a long moment, Mistress Cerna cleared her throat. “Master Smarag?”

“Yes, Mistress Cerna?” He didn’t open his eyes.

“You have something to say?”

“No, but thank you.”

That caused the others—including Tala—to exchange looks.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Tala sighed, filling in the obvious answer, “Because you already said what you were going to and accomplished your goal?”

He simply nodded once.

Lovely.

They took the rest of their trip in silence.

* * *

Tala and her unit waited as Master Smarag analyzed the various bits of information left for them to indicate what lay within the cell.

After a long moment, he grunted. “Mistress Vanga, we need to determine your unit’s physical resilience toward nontraditional attacks.”

The Healer blinked a few times. “I apologize, Master Smarag, could you be a bit more specific? In some cases I would say incredibly high, in others very low.”

He grunted again. “My apologies. In this case, resistance to magically induced slumber.”

She began nodding. “Method of influence?”

“It appears to be a conceptual curse. It permeated an entire city-state, including plantlife, and all analyzed fauna.”

“Is it a true sleep or more of a stasis?”

“No indications of degradation or alteration over the course of months, but no immunity to physical interaction, movement, or the like.”

“Levels of advancement of those affected?”

“They used some archaic system of measurement, but it looks like—by our system—up through newly Refined.”

Mistress Vanga’s eyes widened a bit. “Well, that’s not good.”

“Indeed. That is why I asked. I think there is a clear and present danger to some or all of your group.”

“What exactly is going on in there?”

Master Smarag sighed. “It looks like a form of sleeping curse—as was likely obvious by my questions. It spreads through the air, by touch, and in several other ways they weren’t able to easily detect.”

“Hmm. My memory is that curses of that magnitude, even with a Sovereign involved, tend to have a safety valve, or what is often seen as a ‘cure’ in retellings. Is that the case?”

“Indeed. Apparently, the daughter of this city’s ruler is the one who was cursed, and the Sovereign who cursed her let it be known that ‘true love’s kiss’ would wake the girl.”

Tala cleared her throat. “Wait, I’ve heard this story. Are you telling me that the fairytale comes from a cell? This cell?”

Master Smarag glanced her way. “That is very possible, yes. In the case of cells containing what amounts to a plague, knowledge of what is in them often survives, in the hope that a cure can be discovered in the meantime.”

That made a lot of sense to Tala. She’d based much of her magic on tales of old, so it stood to reason that others might spend their time and energy trying to solve old tales. “So? Do we have a solution?”

He shook his head. “No, aside from a Sovereign’s boon to negate the curse, and even that might not work.” He sighed. “A whole city-state’s worth of people, trapped for eternity.”

“Do we know why?”

The Paragon pointed. “The specifics are vague, as by the time the makers of this cell came to clean up the mess, all those who truly knew what had happened were already asleep. They found some records, but it’s noted that they should be treated as highly biased.”

Tala chuckled. “They didn’t invite the Sovereign to a party, and she threw a fit and vastly over reacted?”

He cracked a half-smile. “In essence, yes. We know that can’t be what actually happened, because no one on the level of a Sovereign would spend their power so foolishly…” He hesitated. “Maybe one of the dream-gods? But this cell seems to be from well after the last of those were sealed away.” He sighed. “Though, there could always be another that we haven’t rediscovered yet.”

“Regardless.”

“Yes.” He gave another small smile. “That is the fairytale version of what happened.”

“Did the prince not want to kiss her?”

Master Smarag sighed. “She was sixteen and had been very sheltered. No one really knew her well enough to truly love her.”

“What of her parents?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Might not have been the right kind of love, or maybe her parents were rusting horrible people. I’ve no way of knowing.” After a moment, he added, “If the Sovereign really did announce the cure, it could also have been a lie meant to sow chaos among those who loved her, making them doubt themselves even as they, too fell under the working.”

Tala’s eyes widened. “That’s… diabolical.”

“Indeed.”

Tala was enjoying Master Smarag much more now that he was actually talking, but it seemed like it wasn’t meant to last.

Mistress Vanga interjected once again. “Regardless, I don’t know that even Mistress Tala would be immune to such a working, at least not without knowing how, exactly, it affects its targets.”

Yeah, and your base spellforms specifically don’t work against sleep.

-Yeah… I’d rather we not test if they were right in calling this ‘sleep’ or not. Good call.-

Master Girt cleared his throat. “When I am melded with the earth, I am immune to all but direct physical damage. Even directly targeted effects have trouble holding onto me, let alone grabbing on to begin with, when I meld with the ground.”

Tala nodded, remembering some of their practice sessions. “He’s correct. My magic works on a cognitive level, and when we’ve tested it, it loses all power when he’s occupying the same space as rock, stone, or dirt.”

She grimaced. She didn’t understand why her locks failed on the man in those circumstances, but they unquestionably did.

She could probably find a way around the issue, but they’d not taken enough time to try enough things to find that loophole.

Master Smarag grunted. “Are you willing to take the risk, to investigate the cell, and to ensure nothing comes out while I repair the seal?” He held up a hand to stop Master Girt from instantly agreeing. “I will tell you that if you succumb to the cursed sleep, we won’t be bringing you out. I will not allow it. We also won’t be killing you.”

Master Girt hesitated.

“We don’t know if they are dreaming, or if their consciousness is in limbo. You could be risking a near eternity of suffering for all we understand. Or it could be a ‘blink and you’re awake again’ type of sleep. We just don’t know.”

After a long moment, Master Girt gave a slow nod. “We need someone to go in, and I’m the best option. I’d say that Mistress Tala was more resilient than I, but we recently encountered a couple of things that ignored her defenses too completely for me to retain that belief in all circumstances.”

Tala sighed, nodding. “Ironically, your simpler method of defense should be more likely to resist something that was clearly intended to target mundanes. All my forms of defense are contests against the attacker, and with a Sovereign’s power in the mix, I’ll likely lose.”

Master Girt smiled. “Where my defense is to not be able to be interacted with, regardless of power.”

She smiled in return. “Precisely.”

Master Smarag nodded as well. “Alright. I will get confirmation for the plan, and we will proceed.”

In a surprising turn that really shouldn’t have been that surprising, confirmation came back within the hour, and Master Girt was given the go-ahead to proceed.

Master Smarag gave Master Girt a meaningful look. “Everyone in there is innocent as far as we know, and everything in there belongs to them. We are not robbers, nor users of the innocent. Learn what you can, but disturb as little as possible. Ideally, these people will wake up and continue their lives at some point.”

Master Girt nodded. “Understood.”

The Paragon walked over to where the cell anchor lay, then hesitated, his head tilting up as if he were reading something that only he could see. “Hmmm…”

Mistress Cerna took a step toward him. “Master Smarag?”

“I was just notified and advised to maintain aura superiority around the entrance. There will be regular check-ins, and if we miss any, another Paragon will come and… the term ‘scorched earth’ summarizes it nicely.”

Tala grunted, instantly understanding. “We can’t put a cell within a cell, and this curse can’t be allowed to spread.”

He smiled again. “Quite.”

Mistress Cerna nodded. “What is your preference, Master Smarag? I can lay down magics to enhance your aura, or we can take on the responsibility of maintaining an aura lockdown?”

He sighed, the moment of mirth passing as quickly as it had come. “To be safe, it should be me. Ultimately, this mission depends upon me and is my responsibility.”

She nodded again in response. “Very well, can you give me five minutes?”

“Easily.”

Without waiting further, precious metals almost seemed to explode out of her in thousands of minute tendrils, driving into the ground and worming their way to interweave into intricate patterns.

Tala felt her eyes widen as her threefold sight allowed her to watch the entire process take place, likely in a way few had ever been able to.

She stepped a bit closer, cognizant to not get in the other woman’s way, but wanting to pick up as much as she could.

Mistress Cerna threw her a self-satisfied look, clearly enjoying being able to impress her unit-mate. She also then altered how she was working just slightly, to allow Tala to catch more of the process.

Instead of advancing the entire working as a whole, Mistress Cerna completed each section before moving on wherever possible.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. We need to learn wherever and whenever we can.”

What the Refined laid down in less than five minutes was easily more complicated than most of the scripts Tala had seen in merging rooms, though obviously bent toward an entirely different purpose.

When Mistress Cerna was finished, a truly dizzying lattice of latent power lay underground—clearly changing sub-schema as the spellform passed into and through various mediums—working together with a cage of gold, silver, copper, and another metal that Tala didn’t recognize to surround the two men and the unopened cell-door.

Master Smarag took a moment to carefully examine the finished work when the Refined let him know it was ready.

He gave a single nod. “Your reputation is well deserved, Mistress Cerna.”

The woman simply smiled in return.

He stomped down one foot, a pulse of magic radiating outward and activating the intricate spellform and filling it with his power.

Tala’s threefold sight was immediately cut out of the area as the Paragon’s aura filled the whole space, feeling substantially more powerful than before even as the magic burned off the precious metals to amplify Master Smarag’s authority and ownership of the area.

That is what aura is, after all. It is authority and ownership over an area.

-Just remember, even though new understandings are fun, they are also sometimes wrong.-

But this one feels right.

-You’ll find no argument here.-

A moment later, the cell was open, and Master Girt had stepped inside, leaving Master Smarag to enact the repairs and Tala and the rest of the unit to wait in impotence.

It was a stressfully uneventful process.

As often happens, ‘nothing’ was a lot worse to wait through than sudden ambushes, or problems to solve.

Still, it was better to have an uneventful fix instead of an outbreak of a Sovereign-generated sleeping plague.

Tala assured herself of that.

Master Smarag completed the work in less than three hours, and Master Girt returned when the time was up.

In that way, in less than a day, they were all happy and healthy, already heading back toward Alefast, their mission complete.