A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Verdantis]

[Capital City]

Guinevere’s gaze lingered upon the sea of papers covering her desk.

Her eyes slowly drifted from one hastily written note to another.

("There exist twelve dimensions.") Her fingers absentmindedly traced over a page filled with concentric circles. ("Mortals, beasts, nearly every living creature is confined to the Third Dimension. That is the foundation of existence. Space, matter, and time as we perceive it—all of it is anchored there.")

She closed her eyes.

("But enough power allows one to transcend those barriers.") Another parchment lay beside it, covered in geometric symbols that intersected with layers of spheres. ("An Ascendant no longer truly belongs to the Third Dimension.")

The thought alone was enough to make her temples ache.

("However, should such a being remain there in its true state...") She remembered an old scripture almost word for word. ("...the Third Dimension would begin to unravel beneath its existence.")

Her fingers paused.

("Reality simply cannot bear something that has fundamentally surpassed it." ) A long silence followed in her mind. The only sound was the scratching of tree branches against the castle walls outside. ("Which is why every Ascendant requires a vessel or a shell. Something that allows a higher-dimensional existence to anchor itself within a lower-dimensional reality.")

Her tired eyes drifted toward another collection of notes.

These were even messier.

Entire paragraphs had been crossed out; complex diagrams connected twelve layered circles by arrows and symbols. Some portions had been rewritten three or four separate times.

("The Twelfth Dimension.") She slowly leaned back into her chair. ("The Plain of Elysium.") Even thinking the name made her feel strangely small. ("The highest and final dimension. The place where the true forms of Gods, Divine Beasts and entities beyond mortal understanding reside.")

Her brow furrowed.

("When an Inheritor invokes Arcane Ascendance, they briefly return to that place.") The realization still fascinated her. ("For an instant, they ascend to Elysium itself before instinctively constructing a vessel through which they may descend again.") She let out another weary breath. ("That alone rewrites nearly everything we understand about that power.")

Another sheet caught her eye; this one contained only a single sentence surrounded by countless notes.

("The dimensions are shared.") Guinevere quietly repeated the words to herself. ("Every realm possesses different lands, different histories, and different stars, perhaps. But the dimensions themselves are not divided.") Her tired gaze slowly sharpened. ("There aren’t separate Fourth Dimensions. There aren’t separate Fifth Dimensions. Above the Third, every realm exists beneath the exact same dimensional framework.")

Her fingers tightened slightly.

("If that’s true...") The implications refused to leave her alone. ("Then traveling between realms shouldn’t require crossing impossible distances. It requires changing dimensions.") She stared blankly at one of her crude diagrams. ("Ascend beyond the Third and enter the Fourth. Move, then descend somewhere else.")

Another sigh escaped her lips.

She leaned back into the plush chair until the wood creaked beneath her weight.

Her shoulders finally relaxed.

"If this spell is even half as possible as these theories suggest..." She muttered under her breath. "...then every law of transportation we’ve ever accepted has been embarrassingly incomplete."

Her room was modest.

Lyra had arranged it for her shortly after arriving in Verdantis.

It contained only the necessities, a broad oak desk now almost completely hidden beneath loose papers. A comfortable chair and one tall bookshelf lined with aging tomes whose bindings had faded with time.

Beside it stood a long window overlooking the castle grounds.

Beyond the glass...

The sky remained broken.

Even after weeks Guinevere still found herself staring at them whenever her concentration slipped.

"Quite a heavy sigh." Lyra’s calm voice finally broke the silence, the Court Mage stood beside the window; even without trying, she always looked elegant.

Her arms were folded loosely beneath her chest as she gazed out toward the ruined sky rather than at Guinevere herself.

"At this rate," Lyra continued with the smallest hint of amusement, "you’re going to give yourself wrinkles long before this spell is complete."

Guinevere let out the smallest groan imaginable.

"Oh, please don’t say that." She rubbed at her forehead instinctively. "I made the mistake of looking in the mirror this morning." Her expression became almost offended. "I could have sworn I spotted the beginning of one."

Lyra chuckled quietly.

"It would hardly be surprising." She finally turned away from the window. "You’ve spent days buried beneath books older than yourself. You barely sleep. You forget to eat unless someone reminds you." She walked toward the desk at an unhurried pace. "If anyone deserves a wrinkle, it would be you."

Guinevere sighed dramatically.

"I was hoping for reassurance."

"You have my sympathy." Lyra smiled. "But not my dishonesty."

Guinevere couldn’t help allowing the corner of her mouth to twitch upward.

"You really should be taking better care of yourself, Guin." Lyra’s voice softened. "This supposed realm-travel spell has demanded far more from you than you’re willing to admit."

Guinevere looked back down at the disaster covering her desk.

"You don’t have to tell me." One paper contained equations that even she no longer remembered writing. Another was covered in old hieroglyphs copied from half-legible scriptures. Several showed layered spheres intersecting one another with lines that only made sense inside her own head.

To anyone else...

It would have resembled the obsessive ramblings of someone slowly losing touch with reality.

"I honestly can’t tell anymore whether I’m making progress or simply finding more complicated ways to confuse myself."

Lyra picked up one of the pages, stared at it, turned it upside down, and then right side up again.

"I’ll be honest." She placed it back exactly where she’d found it. "I have absolutely no idea what any of this means. And I say this as the Ancestor of Knowledge."

Guinevere gave a defeated laugh. "That somehow makes me feel better."

Lyra shook her head with quiet amusement.

"I still find myself wondering where you even heard of such a spell in the first place."

Guinevere rested her cheek against one hand. "So do I, sometimes." She stared thoughtfully at the diagrams. "It doesn’t resemble conventional magic. Not even advanced magic. It’s vastly different. As though it belongs to an entirely separate philosophy and a completely different way of understanding reality."

She slowly shook her head.

"I’ve spent my life studying magic. But whatever this is, it feels like I’m standing outside the discipline altogether." Silence settled between them for a moment.

Eventually Guinevere broke it herself.

"Anyway." She looked toward Lyra. "How are Alyssia and Lucinda doing?"

Lyra’s expression immediately softened.

"Alyssia is improving." She chose the word carefully. "Slowly. She’s still anxious, and I can’t blame her after everything she’s endured." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the corridor outside. "But Lucinda has been good for her. Far better than I expected. They understand one another in ways few others could."

A small smile appeared.

"They’ve found common ground through experiences neither of them should have had to live through." She nodded to herself. "I was actually planning to check on them." Her red eyes met Guinevere’s. "You should come as well."

Guinevere hesitated, only briefly.

"I’d rather not."

Lyra tilted her head. "You’d rather not?"

Guinevere gave an awkward smile.

"I’ve always had the feeling Alyssia doesn’t particularly like me."

"I wouldn’t say that’s true," Lyra answered almost immediately. "If anything, she’s simply perceptive." The Court Mage folded her arms again. "She’s realized I’m hiding something from her."

"And she’s correct." Guinevere looked away. "We’re hiding something enormous." Her voice took on a quieter tone. "No girl her age should have to hear that her own daughter is alive and over three hundred years old."

Even now saying it aloud sounded absurd.

"I still can’t fully comprehend it myself." She rubbed her temple. "The entire situation feels quite absurd." A small smile crossed her face despite herself. "And somehow that hopelessly naïve, reckless, stubborn girl is my family."

Lyra watched her for a long moment, then a knowing smile spread across her face.

"You know..." She began walking toward the door. "...the resemblance is rather obvious."

Guinevere blinked. "...Excuse me?"

Lyra stopped beside her chair; without a word, she gently rested a hand upon Guinevere’s shoulder. The gesture was as warm as it was comforting.

"You are both impossibly stubborn." Her smile widened. "Neither of you know when to let something go. And you both become wonderfully unreasonable whenever you believe you’re right."

Guinevere opened her mouth.

"I am not—"

"You absolutely are," Lyra interrupted; another soft chuckle escaped her. "So bullheaded."

Before Guinevere could gather a proper rebuttal, Lyra simply removed her hand, stepped through the doorway, and disappeared into the corridor beyond.

The wooden door clicked shut behind her as silence returned.

Guinevere remained seated exactly where she was.

After several long seconds...

She released one last weary sigh.

"She’s insufferably perceptive." Her eyes drifted back toward the endless mountain of notes covering her desk. "I suppose she isn’t entirely wrong."

She glanced back at the papers on her desk, her thoughts circling back to the spell.

("But perhaps that Ancestor was merely taking me for a fool by giving me this spell. I suppose it would be foolish to trust the words of a being made to sow chaos. Even so, if I do not hurry, she shall reach Dante first.")

Guinevere leaned back in her chair, looking to the ceiling.

"How annoying."