Otherworldly - A Shadowed Awakening

Peak of Autumn, Week 4, Day 5

Alas, I was stuck here.

Gritting my teeth and pushing down the waves of anger that were once again boiling beneath my skin, I went back to conjuring more and more shadow cones. They were no larger than my palm, with the base still roughly ping pong ball sized and the point extended only two inches out, but the sheer number was getting overwhelming. My focus wasn’t enough to keep them levitating and maintain their shapes, so they began dropping out of the air as soon as they were conjured. First there were a dozen, then easier was a dozen more, then three dozen appeared already shaped. Soon, the cones were dripping with soft thuds to the ground —and when the ground became filled with the scattered cones, they began to pile upon each other.

Nothing had said the Skills were anything but toggled on and off, and I brought my Will to bear under that assumption. So long as the faucet was running, I produced more waves of shadow cones. The ice of mana leaving me was a constant throb, not quite painful but not quite comfortable. It was a type of manic focus I had found myself in, I was in such a frenzy to produce that I hardly did more than snap my mental image in place before creating another. Initially I had thought I would need to focus on each cone to maintain it, but once I had focused on the first dozen it became a form of blueprint that I impressed upon the Shadows.

Warmth surged from within me as I began orchestrating new piles of shadow cones, ever more until a there were six heaping mounds surrounding the table I was perched on.

I don’t know how long I spent in that fugue state, focused solely on producing the cones, but by the time I found myself I was panting and a headache had begun to form at the base of my skull. The dull throb pulled me out of my focus and brought me back to the clearing, where I was surrounded by the cones.

I felt a sharp pang in my heart as I looked around at the darkness at my feet, piled high halfway to the table. It was exactly what I had pictured—crisper even than in elsewhere. I created another one of the cones and rolled it in my hand. The shadow made solid still produced wisps of darkness, but the core of the cone was opaque. I pressed a finger to the pointed end of the cone. The tip was sharp as a tack. I was sure, had it not been for my increased Vitality and Endurance, that I would have drawn blood. Feeling inside of myself, I felt [Quick Calculation] aid me as I attempted to judge my limits.

And it told me I could fill this clearing up past the table. And even then, I would be able to hold out and maintain them for hours. My limits were no longer the same as before —the small amount of magic that I had access to in elsewhere paled in comparison to the well within me now. The boon of wielding a [Rare] Class was incomparable to the instruction I’d had in elsewhere. Yes, the mental imaging had helped —still helped even now, as I stood and stared at the product of my focused frenzy— but without the increased Magic and Divinity within my body I would never have reached even this meager amount of progress.

I felt something akin to pride and resentment as I looked over the clearing, still gripping the cone in my hand. And I wondered if this mattered. If being able to do all this would amount to anything.

The answer was whispered to me by the warmth I had felt while succumbing to my conjuration.

The answer was, undoubtedly, yes.

It means something. It has to mean something. I want that warmth again —even if part of me wants to stay cold.

The thoughts bubbled to the surface, surprising me. My heart was aching, even now, and my anger still raged on, but, even if this was a trick by the Divine, I couldn’t ignore how the shadows brought me relief from the pain my loss had caused.

My eyes were dry and only a touch of the bitterness from earlier remained. The warmth hadn’t left me, even as I shoved dark thoughts into my own head. It was nice in a way I had not allowed myself to feel before now. The comfort of the dark had caused me to panic before, but maybe I had just needed time to adjust to the soothing presence darkness could be.

Honestly, I never had to be without it.

With a single breath, the shadowed cones that filled the clearing dispersed into puffs of dark wisps that melded into the natural shadows of the clearing —causing them to pulse a darker shade of gray before returning to their original overcast tone.

All that remained was the single cone in my hand. It was all I needed. Between it and Noir, I had my everything.

So I leaned back and gazed up at the sky. The blue extended in all directions, not a cloud in sight. And I squinted my eyes at the two Suns well past noon. The First Sun, Troya, hung lower than the Second Sun, Dreya, due to the time of day. Troya was larger than Dreya and glowed with a ring of red light —however Dreya’s yellow light was far more powerful and overtook Troya’s sunlight with it’s own. It was a tragic tale that made it so, not science or magic. This was caused by the Divine. In fact, I felt a memory come forward. A relatively nice memory by Eunora’s standards. She loved the myths of creation, and this was no different. I let the knowledge wash over me. The myth was something I both knew and knew.

Dreya was said to have once been a goddess with hair like golden flax and eyes as beautiful as Troya’s sunrise, though her domain has long been lost to time. Dreya had wanted nothing more than to be so beautiful as Troya’s light. So she begged her beloved, Druigr, God of Dreams, to fulfill her wish. Druigr knew only one way to do so and told Dreya as such. That all he could do was allow her to sleep —and within her dreams she could become Troya and her beauty would shine upon the whole world but it would not be true. It would not be real, for Druigr held no sway over the sun’s light.

Only later, after Dreya had thanked Druigr with her whole heart, had he realized the mistake he made.

For there was another who held power over Troya’s beauty —and his name was Primus and he was the God of Light. For eons, Primus had allowed Troya to burn red and beautiful, casting Gargantua in a rosy light, and Dreya went to him and she praised Troya’s beauty. Primus preened at the compliment and found himself drawn to Dreya’s beauty himself. And so when Dreya asked to have some of Troya’s beauty, Primus said, “If you will give yourself to me, I will give you a sliver of Troya’s heart —so you may shine as bright as Troya in all that you do.”

Dreya, long betrothed to Druigr, said, “I can give you anything but myself, for I have given that to another. I will give you the shade of coral I so love —or the smell of winter winds. I will give you the fire from my hearth or the golden locks of my hair.”

Heartbroken, Primus cried, “I will take your eyes —for they are like Troya’s sunrise. And in exchange I will give you what you so desire.”

And Dreya cried out of excitement—for what are a pair of eyes to a Goddess? She can regrow them a dozen times over. And so, using a dagger made up of the summer breeze, Dreya cut her eyes out and gave them to Primus.

In exchange, Primus plucked a piece of Troya from the sky and told Dreya, “Eat and you shall be eternally as beautiful as Troya. Eat and your heart's desire will be granted.”

And as Dreya devoured the heat of the sun, Primus smiled a cruel and hateful thing. For Primus was going to have Dreya in whatever form he could —just as he had made Troya his forever. Dreya was consumed by the heat of the red star, and Primus melded her into a second sun. The Second Sun.

Hours later, Druigr, recognizing the warmth from the yellow sun as the warmth of his lover, screamed with such rage the skies shook with his anger. In his rage, Druigr released the whole of his Divine might into the world. It was not long after that Primus fell into an eternal slumber.

There was no proof the God of Dreams had done anything, other than tear the mortal world asunder, not even when his tears flew into the sky and empowered Dreya’s light and his ability to send Dreams dried up. Not when Dreya grew to outshine Troya and Primus still remained asleep. None could prove it taxed him so to force Primus asleep.

And so Druigr’s love was reknowned amongst the remaining Gods and Goddesses and he became the God of the Second Sun while Primus became the God of the Sleeping Sun.

It was a tragedy, and Eunora had loved reading it. And I was certain that was the sanitized version. Even now, eons after the legend, Druigr was to be the one to pray to for vengeance for a lover wronged. Though she wasn’t supposed to know this, Eunora had overheard that priests of Druigr mutilated rapists behind the eyes of the law —Eunora of then had not really known what that meant, but I did. And I approved. But there was a bit that had always made her wonder. What had Primus wanted with Dreya’s eyes?

Perhaps I will find a better version of the story and read it on the way to the borderlands. Maybe I can bring Eunora some closure —and myself some entertainment. I had not picked up a book in months. I had not learned more about this world.

I squeezed the shadowed cone I still held. No longer was there time to grieve. Now was the time to grow. And so, I flicked my eyes to to where a green screen was hovering with white letters.

[Congratulations! Shadow Conjuration is now Level 3! Class experience applied!]

I felt the depth of my ability increase at once, and, curiously, it felt as if my Will was crystallizing ever stronger. That had not happened in elsewhere. In fact, it made this whole System irritating in a new way. Will was, in elsewhere, one’s capacity for discipline and control over their magic. The fact that a Skill level could increase it was almost insulting.

Releasing my grip, I let out a breath. This was not helpful.

“I am just…” I took in the bright suns and vibrant blue sky, the fallen leaves at the edge of the clearing, the cool breeze and the cold stone I sat upon, the warm tingle of the suns on my skin, “Tired. And tired of being tired.”

I sat like that, leaned back and staring up, Noir placed gently against my side, rolling a shadowed cone between my fingers, until my eyes began to water. Not in the hard way that staring at a screen had caused my eyes to well, but in the soft way right before a nap. And so I closed my eyes and leaned all the way back down spreading my arms out and dangling my legs over the edge of the table. And I napped in the warmth of the suns.

When I awoke, the two Suns were closer to the horizon. My muscles were tight as I shifted on the stone, and as I began stretching out comfortably I heard the rustle of leaves and an indignant huff. I was suddenly very aware that the shadow cone had dissipated —my ability to consciously feed it mana a requirement that was no longer met— and I quickly sat up.

“Nora, Nora, Nora,” Came a sharp voice, high-pitched and filled with disgust, “Have some dignity.”

I knew who this was. She haunted Eunora’s memories like a poltergeist disguised as a benevolent spirit.

Evelyn. Eve. The oldest daughter of the Dawn.