Chapter 252 – Contrasting Philosophy

Mirian had gotten used to using the titan-catalyst for both arcane and celestial spells. It made it easier to be flexible. A Tlaxhuacan focus was better at manipulating plants; a Luminate focus, better at manipulating animals—ironically, including necromancy. However, as her lessons with her father were proving, having a specializing focus would enhance certain runic spells.

The translated scroll she’d been left on the violet crystal focus only emphasized her need to practice with the specialized materials. The scroll spoke of taking control of dreamscapes, a better understanding of visions, and dreamers speaking to each other. Some of the things mentioned seemed impossible. Speaking with ancestors? Anyone too long dead would have had their soul long degraded.

It also spoke of taking years of practice to master, but from what she could tell, the reason why was that the user would need to master threading a thin line of soul energy through focus while they slept.

Mirian already knew how to do that. She’d cast raw magic spells in her sleep to open the Mausoleum doors.

Before she slept, she spent time turning the violet focus stone over and over in her hands. Yiaverunan, Mirian thought. It was speculation, but it made some of the stories about Her make sense. The Elder God was connected with light and time. And dreams, it would seem. She thought back to the blindfolded statue of Yiaverunan that was beneath the Kiroscent Dome back in Torrviol. The first place she’d died. Have you died too, or do you persist?

She traced soul energy all around the stone, then, feeling familiar enough with it, rechecked the wards guarding her room and went to sleep.

***

She opened her eyes. In the distance, the Ominian walked the land, Their titanic form silent as They moved. From Their size, the steps seemed slow. The sight always gave her a sense of melancholy mixed with a sense of peace.

This place…

Apophagorga had shaken the land with its steps, but the Ominian took such care. Footfalls that should have been thunderous were gentle. Even the blades of grass hardly moved at Their passing.

I’ll join you another time, Mirian thought. For now, there’s work to be done. She closed her eyes, feeling the violet focus stone. She could feel its connection, feel the currents of her soul moving through it.

The dreamscape is like a room full of interconnected paintings, each work of art blurred into the next, she recalled from the scroll. Walk not with your feet, but with your mind, to the next painting. It often helps to trace a design in your mind…

Revelation struck Mirian as suddenly as a lightning bolt. She’d read about the different traces the scroll had recommended, but now, she realized what they were: runes. Shape the soul energy into the correct form and correct energy level, and it would act as a rune. Glyphs presented physical coordinates. Runes, coordinates of the mind. As soon as she realized it, she knew which runes to use. Her mind drew them; she knew so many now.

She moved farther dreamward, and found herself in that vast sea where anchors rained down from the sky, plunging into the ocean. As the focus pulsed on her chest, she felt the intent of the symbols more intensely. There’s a randomness to who was struck with the temporal anchors, she realized. Like rain falling. It was a desperate thing They did. She watched for a time, then moved deeper.

There was the great tree, burning. The fires had grown higher, the flames brighter. The longer we persist here, the more the fire rages. The more paths are closed to us. The tree was taller than she remembered, scraping at the very stars. The inferno was closing in. There’s still time left, though. There’s still a path.

The deeper she went into the dream, the more symbolic the dreamscape was. This time, she pulled herself back.

And there she was, in the Mausoleum.

If her heart was present, it would have been pounding. This was what she needed. A way to visit the Mausoleum with more frequency. A way to analyze the designs on the Triarchy’s armor. A way to study the runic circles around the Mausoleum. No longer would she be forced to wait for days or weeks to pass. Has Zhuan already been using this bounty? Gods above… this could change everything. She made her way outside the Mausoleum. When she opened the doors, it felt easier—magic that usually felt slippery in the dream was easier to grasp.

Mirian walked over to the place where the Triarchs had fallen and resumed her studies.

Briefly, she thought she felt a presence behind her, but when she turned, there was stillness. After hours had passed, Mirian made her way over to the edge of the moon and looked down at Enteria, that glowing jewel. She turned her gaze to the jungles of Zhighua, looking so still and peaceful from high above. Thick clouds and fog swirled about the mountains.

She thought of what she’d seen when she communed with Xylatarvia’s god-corpse. Things that looked like towers, drifting in the endless stars that shone above her now. She thought of her father’s descriptions of the Viaterrians’ magic. Of the vast city the soul fragments had shown her. I don’t think the vessel Zhuan is seeking sailed the seas.

Mirian stood there, admiring the beauty of the world, thinking.

When she turned, she saw another figure, wreathed in spectral shadows, watching her.

She woke.

***

Mirian sat up. That figure hadn’t been the jawless thing that had been appearing. Another Prophet, she was sure, and she was quite sure she knew which one. She first scribbled down a page full of notes so that she wouldn’t forget the research she’d done on the derelict rune circle up there on the moon.

Next, she went to the page in her soulbound spellbook where she was designing her leyline regulator armor and began sketching out new ideas for where she could integrate the focuses. Her father could get her a black focus. Xecatl could get her a jade focus. The heretic priest Lecne, one of Zomalator’s. The gray focus stone, she already had. She’d have to find the easiest way to get a violet one, but if Zhuan proved a capable ally, it would be no problem.

Next, she turned to her map page. She spent some time erasing lines and adjusting her route to include Zhighua. She had a pretty good idea of where the Gate they’d be off to see soon was. The discovery of the Triarch’s mythril armor outside the Mausoleum simplified things immensely, but she still had the difficulty of visiting all the Labyrinth Vaults she’d need to acquire the materials. That would also mean delving into more Labyrinth entrances, as three cubes of relicarium would be insufficient for her design. There were more entrances near Second Cairn, as well as a few in Persama. She also needed to finish her research on using spell-resistant materials like orichalcum in conduits.

Of course, she also needed to find a way to get to the Divir Gate so she could retrieve the Triarch’s armor. Her calculations suggested several ways it might be possible. Some of them were ridiculous, others, moreso. But if they work, who cares? She just needed to hit a higher myr rating, and the ability to sustain maximum power spells for a longer time.

Soon, she told herself. A few more years, perhaps.

She closed her soulbound spellbook, then walked over to the balcony. It was late morning, and her stomach was unhappy with how long she’d put off breakfast. She set off to go find some, and then to find Zhuan.

***

Zhuan Li was in one of the countless elaborate rooms Wongzho palace had, talking with another group of people. Persama and Baracuel liked to have tapestries or reliefs showing their history, but in Zhighua, they seemed to simply aim for beauty. Whether it was ornate stonework or painted wood, different sections of the palace followed a color theme. In the central area, the pillars were all white and green jade, with walls of white marble. In the upper rooms, there was a theme of red and gold, using paint on wood. Representations of myrvites were common, but she saw no depictions of the Elder Gods at all.

Or perhaps there was a story in the designs that she simply wasn’t seeing. She still knew little enough about Zhighua. The room the other Prophet was in was full of shelves and papers. People were writing things down, and Zhuan was skimming them over, then stamping them with an elaborate wax seal.

“We need to talk,” Mirian said.

Zhuan whirled. “In a moment,” she said.

“What we discuss now has ramifications for every loop going forward. Nothing takes precedence over it. Besides,” she said, taking a gamble, “You visited me last night, so you’re clearly interested in something I’ve been doing.”

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Zhuan froze. Then she handed the stamp to a robed man and said something to him in rapid-fire Gulwenen. Turning to Mirian, she said, “Fine. But not here. This conversation is already going to disrupt the sequence of events that will optimize our expedition.”