Ar'Kendrithyst

Inside of a room of Windy Manor, Jane stood in front of a blackboard, staring at a singular question writ large. She had written it a dozen different ways. She had mulled on it for days. Currently, the question was written in colored chalk, because Jane had decided to turn to flights of fancy, looking for answers.

What does a [Prismatic Attack] look like?

She frowned. She sighed. She flumphed down into a plush chair she had put in this room, days ago, just for the express purpose of staring at this stupid blackboard with its stupid question, mulling it over in her stupid mind. She tapped her fingers across the plush armrests, staring at multicolored letters upon the black background, and their prismatic notion of something that was just beyond her grasp.

“It really shouldn’t be this hard,” Jane said to herself. “I know what the defense option looks like… And that’s the crux of the issue. I can’t make up my fucking mind.” She grumbled. She seethed. She bared her teeth at nothing in particular, but mostly the ceiling, as she let out a minor roar of, “Fuuuuuck!”

She shot up from her chair, to her feet, then rushed out of the room, muttering about how stupid it all was, and how this wasn’t like her at all. She was driven! She knew what she wanted!

And right now, she wanted cake. One of those big frosted things from that one bakery she saw when—

No! She wanted spicy sushi from that place near the theater district in northern Oceanside—

She stopped in her tracks. She could have punched herself, but all she did was breathe out, then in, and still her mind. She needed to talk to someone. That’s what she needed. What she wanted was cake, and spicy tuna-adjacent sushi…

Sushi first. Then cake. In fact… Bring cake home.

… Bring whole cake home. Not just one slice!

Plan acquired!

Jane rapidly deployed her perfect plan. A few blips had her out of Windy Manor, and into the mid morning sun. Cream-colored stone streets were full of theater students, going this way or that, and also going over dramatic lines with each other or debating prose and plot in tea shops.

Noy’s Wrappings was a middling establishment in the area that opened their doors minutes before Jane arrived. She grabbed the fatty lina rolls, which was basically tuna, and paid for it, then ate on the empty veranda, overlooking the street. And then she got seconds. By the time she finished and deposited her stone plate on the clean-it-yourself cart, the veranda was full of people of all kinds, multitudes of discussions, and rather too crowded.

A trip to the bakery took a little more time. Olada’s Red Forest Bakery had been open for an hour already, when Jane got to the place. A line had formed. Twenty minutes later, Jane walked out of there 50 gold lighter, but with a cake sized for orcol appetites. She could support the weight of the thing, of course, but the diameter of the dessert was still the size of her whole forearm and hand, and easily half a foot thick. It was white and creamy and decorated with rich, buttercream frosting, while the cake itself was a dense poundcake. It was one of the best options available, considering Jane had never put in an order, and just showed up to buy one whole cake of whatever they had. Not many places could fill that singular, unorganized criteria of hers, but this place could. Jane had recently taken to trying every food place in Oceanside, and the cakes at this bakery were one of the best, and biggest.

Jane hurried home, practically racing, but still with a normal sense of decorum, to the nearest designated [Teleport] square. One more blip took her to Windy Manor.

Ophiel was leaving a note on the kitchen table.

Ophiel’s many eyes saw her almost as fast as she saw him. The [Familiar] whirled around, wings and feathers spread wide, in a way that was highly indicative that her father was at the controls. He didn’t make Ophiel seem more human-ish all the time when he was in control, and never when he was in perfect control, but Ophiel would have just looked at Jane with his eyes that were on that side of his body.

“Dad!” Jane said.

Ophiel twittered in violins as her Father’s voice carried through, “Jane! Hey, honey! I was just leaving you a note, but you’re here?” Half of Ophiel’s eyes drifted to the cake box in Jane’s hands. “Is it someone’s birthday?” He rushed, “It’s not our birthday, is it?”

Jane smiled, as she moved into the room and set the cake down on the kitchen table. “My Status still says 22.” She snatched up the half-written note, and read, while Ophiel sounded violins. Her father had wanted to talk? Jane set the note back down, slightly concerned, asking, “What’s going on, Dad? What do you need to talk about?”

“… I had wanted to talk about magic, but now I want to talk about our birthday.”

“If they turn out to be different dates, I don’t care.” Jane frowned a little, as she moved over to the kitchen cupboards. She got out a plate, saying, “I don’t care about the woman who birthed me, I don’t care if she lied about when I was born, and I don’t care if we have different dates.”

Ophiel fluttered, as a blip sounded behind Jane. She turned around. Her father stood on the other side of the kitchen table. Jane smiled to see him in person, but then, just as quickly, her frown came back. In that tricky way that memory some times brought up unpleasant times, seeing him here, now, talking about birthdays and looking so young, reminded Jane of the photos she had seen of him in his failed-college years, at a party, with his arm around a certain, unimportant woman.

She said, “Hey, Dad.”

He had a sad sort of smile, as he said, “Hey, Jane.” One Ophiel settled onto Erick’s shoulder, while another Ophiel popped into the air, then disintegrated as a density spread out, into Windy Manor, engulfing everyone. “Poi says hello. Kiri and Teressa send their regards.” He quickly added, “I want to believe that it won’t matter if we have different birthdays, but I’m kinda freaking out a little. With everything that’s been happening, I had forgotten. Sorry. Are you gonna be okay, if this Script shows us something else than how it’s always been? I don’t know if I’m going to be okay.”

Jane did not answer. She turned back to the cupboard, saying nothing.

Honestly, it would hurt if how they’d always celebrated another year turned out to be factually wrong. But just like how her father had said: Birthdays were so far down the list of Jane’s current concerns that to give an iota of thought to an earthly celebration felt like a betrayal of the danger of her current reality.

Jane spoke at the cupboards, “It never felt like a cop out when I was growing up to share birthdays. I always thought it was serendipity that—” She stopped. She couldn’t lie that much. She shrugged. “We’ll know in six weeks, right?” She glanced back at her father, but turned away again, saying, “But! Whatever! Sit down with me. Have some cake.”

“… Okay.”

“Really. I’m fine. I’m sure you will be, too.” Jane grabbed another plate from the cupboard, then a pair of forks, as she fully turned back to her father, and put on a smile. “Anywho: This cake is from a place called Olada’s Red Forest Bakery.” She set the plates down on the table, then lifted the thick paper lid on the cake box. The house flooded with the scents of sugar and butter. “It is so good.”

Erick breathed in the air, saying, “It certainly smells good.” He smiled. “So… If you’re not feeling weird about our birthdays, then why the cake?”

“I don’t know? I wanted it. That’s a good enough reason as any.” Jane telekinetically lifted the cake out of the box. It was a hefty thing, but it was solid; not a single wobble or fluctuation cracked its perfect white frosting. She set the dessert down, saying, “I’ve been going back and forth in the city every day, of course, but ever since I stopped eating slime cores I’ve been trying every place that looked good.”

Erick smiled wider as he sat down at the table. He asked, “Sooo, whaaat’s been going ooon?”

“I have stuff to talk about, yes; I’m getting there.” Jane got out a knife and almost cut into the cake, but her hand hovered above the white expanse of sugar and carbs. She said, “I forgot the milk.”

“I’ll get it,” Erick said, as tendrils of twisted air slipped from him, heading into the kitchen.

“Ah. Thanks.”

Jane cut the cake, but watched out of the corners of her eyes, as a flight spell made of a thousand handy intents opened the stone cold storage box and lifted out the paper milk carton. Other hands grabbed two stone mugs in a cupboard. By the time Jane carved two human-sized slices of cake, using her own hands, her father had poured two cups of milk and returned the milk to cold storage without ever leaving his chair, or even truly paying attention to what he was doing, using a spell that was better than any other aura-flight spell Jane had ever researched.

She slid a slice toward her father.

He was looking directly at her. “Something is obviously wrong.”

“I’m getting there.” Jane sat down to her own cake. “So—” She paused. She stabbed her cake with her fork, then took a bite. Words failed, apparently.

How do you tell someone that you love —your father, even— that you’re jealous of how easy they had it? Especially when no one really ever had it easy? And you both just faced different obstacles, and chose different paths? Was it right to be mad at your father, at all, since he never did anything wrong, besides a bit of naivety in the beginning?

Erick took a bite of his own cake. Delight seemed to illuminate his face, and his posture. He swallowed. He said, “This is good!

Jane smiled. Her father was a good man, and she would not ruin this moment. She said, “It is good cake.” She took another bite.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Something hard and hurtful began to loosen inside Jane.

After a few more bites, Jane said, “I want to talk magic.”

Pure joy seemed to fill her father’s entire being. He smiled wide, setting down his fork, forcing himself to calmly say, “I want to talk magic, too. So you first, or me first?”

That was one of the many things Jane loved about her father; he never pressured her into anything. While he had brought up the topic of magic a few times in the past, he also recognized that Jane almost never wanted to talk about magic, so those conversations usually fell flat. But now, Jane did want to talk magic.

So she spoke.

She said, “I’ve been having some trouble with my magic. I got all the Elemental Bodies—”

“You did! That’s great!” Erick said, practically beaming.

“Yeah yeah. But. Eh.” She continued, “I even did some training with the Professor of War, Ulogai Tinawa. You had him for some classes?”

“Yeah. I did!” Erick seemed unable to stop smiling, as he said, “And you’re taking classes with him? That’s great! Fantastic. He’s good, you know? I couldn’t keep up with his classes, but Kiri got into a few advanced classes with him and a few others, and she wipes the floor with me every time we spar. Ah, yeah. I started sparring again. Just yesterday.”

Now it was Jane’s turn to smile. “Good. That’s good to hear.”

Erick grinned as he ate a forkful of cake.

Jane said, “Professor Tinawa has been pretty good to me; says his instruction is part of the trade for me giving my Fake Magic to the Headmaster— And that’s another story, too. But not that important. I’m pretty sure they’re trying to recruit me to Oceanside’s Elites. Anyway. He’s taught me some stranger uses of these Elemental Body skills, but I have yet to actually make anything he’s suggested. I’ve tried for literal days to make [Erase Presence].” She frowned, but mostly at herself. She asked, “Any thoughts on how you’d make [Erase Presence]? I’m told that all it requires is condensation of an Elemental Body, while using [Silent Movement].”

Erick listened intently while Jane spoke. When she finished, he remained silent, in thought. Jane ate a forkful of cake. The creamy sweetness was truly wonderful, but the minor citrus flavors and the hints of flower, Lime Blossom and Butter Flowers, respectively, were not as good as lemon and vanilla. This was one of Oceanside’s most popular flavors, though.

“I have no idea what [Erase Presence] is. First I’m hearing of it.” Erick asked, “What is ‘condensation’?”

Jane smiled. “That was my question, too. The answer I was told, was ‘to bring together the force of your Elemental Body, so that no one is able to sense your existence’.” She added, “The opposite way of making the skill is to diffuse yourself over a vast area, so that no one is able to see where you are, exactly. Both ways work. If you make the skill right, you get [Erase Presence]. If you make it wrong, you get [Hide Presence], or [Disguise Presence]. [Camouflage] is also an option, though you’d have to screw up pretty badly to get that one.” She said, “I couldn’t get any, though.”

Erick turned back to his slice of cake, thinking.

Jane waited.

Erick asked, “[Invisible]?”

“Not required, according to everything I read.” Jane said, “Besides, [Invisible] is illegal in most of the world. If it is required, then Tinawa is lying to me, and I’m not sure I want to go down that path.”

“Yeah… but… [Invisible] and [Silent Movement]? Those seem perfect for each other.”

“[Invisible] is sight-only.”

“Hence the missing [Silent Movement] puzzle piece.” Erick added, “But I can see that you don’t want my suggestion to be the case, because that would mean you would need to get [Invisible], which means paperwork and deeper ties to a specific city, and a restriction of movement, in case you ever run into the problem of having illegal spells in some other part of the world.”

Jane was about to say something very similar to her father’s words, but she didn’t have to; he already understood the problem. She nodded, then said, “Yeah.”

“We’ll come back to [Erase Presence] later.” Erick’s smile returned, but he forced it away, saying, “I feel like you’ve only told me half the problem.”

Jane leveled her gaze at her father. “What’s going on, Dad? You seem too happy.”

“I know, I know. I don’t mean to be mean. It’s just— We’ve been working on the same stuff, but from vastly different angles.”

“… You’ve been working on [Erase Presence]? You?”

“Oh? No. Not at all.” Erick said, “I’ve been working with [Lightwalk].”

Jane almost ended the conversation right there. She had been using [Lightwalk] for almost three months, now. A lot of that time was spent asleep, but before and after that she had been using all of her Elemental Body skills as much as she could. What did he find out about [Lightwalk] that she didn’t already experience through trial and error?

But Jane could not end the conversation, there.

Instead, she…

First, she saw how much her own, obviously visible emotions, affected her dad. Erick lost his smile, completely. And that hurt. She didn’t mean to do that.

She said, “Sorry. It’s just...”

“I can understand.” Erick said, “I don’t know why I seem to have it easier, either. I really don’t. But I want to help you, if I can.”

Jane nodded, then she forced herself to say, “What’s going on with [Lightwalk]?”

And then Erick dropped several bombshells on her. “I’d tell you about the Spatial Magic remake Quests I’m working on, but those will kill anyone without years of schooling or without a [Familiar] like Ophiel—” Ophiel twittered on Erick’s shoulder. Erick patted him, eliciting more tweets, as he continued, “So I won’t tell you about those, but I can and desperately want to tell you about how to remake the seven foundational Basic Tier Force spells; Bolt, Beam, Bomb, Shrapnel, Trap, Crash, Wave. It took me one day to remake all seven of those. I got seven points for my efforts since I already had those seven spells. I even went to the Registrar and got another Ability Slot for my Class, too.

“Briefly, here’s how I did it:

“So you got [Lightwalk]. You’re light, but you’re also one step closer to the Mana. It’s like…

“Pretend you’re on the beach, near the ocean. The beach is like being in the physical world. The water is the mana. Except you’re more sand and… You’ll figure it out. Anyway. When you [Lightwalk], or [Stone Body] or whatever, you are a being of stone that steps into the water, diffusing yourself around into that water, letting you direct your body —which is still stone, in this scenario— into affecting what the water does.

“What each Elemental Body does is put us closer to the Mana than we naturally are, as beings of flesh and blood.

“Al tried to help me ‘find my aura’ a few times, but it didn’t really work. [Lightwalk] let me find my boundary right away. Proper mages use their aura in these remake quests, I think, but you can shortcut finding your aura with an Elemental Body skill, or other things I’ve heard about, like Blood Magic and Soul Magic.” Erick finished, with, “Oh yeah. And I can control the weather now. It’s a fun spell. Got minor rains happening around Candlepoint so I don’t have to ever show up in person again. I hear there are trees growing everywhere in that dark city, now. I did the same thing for Spur, too. Rains come like they would anywhere else in the world. We had to expand the Lake. Everyone seems to be happy but Al has already complained about having to reroute the sewers.” Erick smiled. “I helped him a bit with that. It was fun.”

Jane blinked a little. Words tumbled out, “I heard about the rains.” She didn’t know what to say about all the rest of that. So she didn’t.

Silence.

Ophiel twittered a few tiny notes, but then silence came back, deeper than before.

Erick asked, “Have you heard from Delia? I heard that—”

“How do you remake [Force Bolt]? Or any of them!” Jane almost shouted, “How the FUCK have you—”

Erick, nice as he possibly could, asked, “Hey? Why not try this?” He held up his hand, conjuring a small, white dagger made of hardened mana into his grip. “Take your [Conjure Weapon] and flow mana through it—” He dismissed the dagger, only to have white mana flow through his hand, like a tiny fountain of knives. “And you listen to the notes made.” He offered, “This one sounds like violent force applied to a violent task. I’m sure [Conjure Item] would sound much less harmful, but be a lot more complicated, so we’ll stick with [Conjure Weapon] for now.” He flickered white, activating [Lightwalk]. “And then you sort of twist yourself, and thus the mana, into the shape you heard, sounding out—”

A radiant length of white force condensed into Erick’s hand, then condensed further, elongating out the bottom of his grip. Radiance flashed up and down as Erick held his hand out, away from the kitchen table. When the magic was done, her father held a simple staff; a simple weapon meant mainly for defense, but it was still two meters long and perfectly sized to him. His eyes were wider than before.

He glanced at the white staff, then at an empty space of air. “I did not expect that to work so well, or to get a staff. But I guess it did.” With his free hand, he gestured the air toward Jane, revealing a blue box.