Ar'Kendrithyst

Erick was not dreaming, because Rozeta, Goddess of the Script, the Ever Moving, the Golden Sky and Gentle Star, had said multiple times now that he was not dreaming. And yet…

“So… I’m… Not? Dreaming?”

Erick was having some trouble. There was just something about standing in the clouds, talking with a four mile long white-gold serpentine dragon, the average thickness of a school bus, that did not lend itself to believability. She was constantly moving, too. Was she right in front of him? Was she twenty miles away? Were her scales the exact color of the clouds? The answer to that last one was ‘sometimes’, and only when the light did not catch on her scales and split into rainbows, or when she glittered gold. Which led to the next question: Were the clouds her? Or what?

She also had the annoying habit of stopping to speak, and moving while she listened. When she stopped to reply, it was often from a direction you weren’t looking. Erick had almost tripped over himself trying to remain face-to-face with her house-sized, catfish-whiskered white visage.

Rozeta sighed and the clouds moved. She spoke, and exasperation tainted her voice, “Please. Can we move on?”

“Sure,” he said, magnanimously. To illustrate this, he reclined on a cloud. It was bit stiff of a cloud, so he reached around and fluffed it up. “That’s better.” He turned to Rozeta, snuggling into the air as he spoke, “What’s this about a dream?”

She eyed him, her giant eyes like miniature suns. “[Call Lightning] is too strong. I’ve gotten complaints from a dozen different relevant entities. Most particularly, a Goddess of Storms from Nergal —that’s the continent across the ocean south of you— has threatened divine action if your spell is allowed to enter the Script. Personally, I think she’s an airhead, but she’s happy and non-disruptive as long as her faithful are the only ones allowed to have actual storm magic. As you can probably guess, your use of the physical laws of the world crossed a deep theological line with her and her people. But. You did use the natural physical laws of this universe, so the magic is going to stay. About the same number of relevant entities want your spell in the Script, but stronger. Or some other variation. The rain-thing makes a lot of people happy so that’s going to stay as well, but the <damage> will not. Do you have a solution? If you do not, then I will have to implement my own solution, and you will not be happy.”

Erick thought for a moment. “It won’t work through a weather [Ward], will it? I kinda thought that was a glaring flaw, but I didn’t really know.”

Rozeta blinked, and the world dimmed for half a second. She slowed along her ever-moving journey. She stopped. “It would have, until now. Enough relevant entities are happy with this solution that I am comfortable pushing this change into the Script. +1 points to Erick Flatt, how about that!” She moved, then spoke from the other half of the sky, “Any questions before I go?”

Erick thought for half a moment. He said, “I want to try making a blacklight orb, but I’m worried about causing radiation. Is radiation a concern, with magic? How are the cancer rates on Veird? Is there a [Cure Cancer], or other cure spells for other long lasting physical ailments? Are there long lasting physical ailments on Veird? Am I in danger of a heart attack like my doctor on Earth was concerned? Speaking of cancer, what about curing aging? Like— telomeres are repetitive chains of nucleotides at the ends of chromosomes that prevent deterioration of DNA caused by cell division, but they fall apart as cells copy and divide. This is one of the main reasons for cancer and aging. Is there a way to restore telomeres using magic?”

Rozeta slowed as Erick spoke, eventually pausing altogether as he asked his last question.

She spoke, “Probably not.”

The dream ended.

Erick awoke on the living room couch. It was barely morning; the sun had yet to crest the walls of Spur. For all of three seconds Erick was not angry. Then he yelled at the ceiling, “That’s a shitty answer!”

“Dad!” Jane yell-groaned from inside her room. “Keep it down. Shit. Fucking hangovers even with fucking healing magic. Fuck.”

Erick checked his recent notifications.