To Fly the Soaring Tides

“Much of the wisdom I possess is not to be freely given or traded as goods, but to be earned.” Cira glowered in the face of Roman’s grin. Her light rained down on them from above, “And I refuse to guarantee the path to earning it.”

“Ahahah…” Roman suddenly burst into raucous laughter, “Hahahah, magnificent! I haven’t seen such talent in centuries! It is only natural that some knowledge may not be available to all, but if you would be willing to share any… I think we can come to an agreement. Between you and me—”

The remaining mages dropped to the floor before he continued with a sly grin, “There are specific libraries for forbidden knowledge, but after we leave here, you must only refrain from mentioning that which you do not wish to share.”

“Let’s not forget the malformed giant of a man I fought on Fount Salt,” Cira eyed him suspiciously, “Tell me what you needed deritium for immediately or I will hunt down your order for the answer after dispatching you.”

Eliza chuckled, “You must mean Valtroy. He was Ringnor’s younger brother who never gained an aura of his own. Without any avenue for him to grow, his brother bent over backwards to find a way for him to acquire power… Thank you for not killing him, by the way. The poor boy…”

“Are you shitting me…?” Cira was not pleased with such a lackluster answer, though it fit her suspicions well enough. “So, what did—”

“For the mana, of course.” Eliza’s face was like explaining the sun to a child. “Surely you know how much deritium contains. We are in no famine, but surplus mana is always welcome. If the fact we still brought you nectar isn’t enough to convince you that it wasn’t our main goal…”

“Your goal.” Cira refilled the tortured seraph pitcher from her multiplying rivers, “It’s the method through which I intend to repair my soul, isn’t it?”

“At this point… There’s no point hiding anything.” Roman replied curtly, “You’re right. The Order can extend a broken soul’s life by decades at best, though there are avenues similar to the common lich as you mentioned. Even like this though, they would wither rapidly in comparison to a deliberately produced lich. Even the phylactery seemed to decay. Honestly, I’m curious about your method of multiple remote phylacteries and it’s interesting that you intend to ‘repair’ your soul rather than mitigate the resulting symptoms of its broken state, but you don’t have to share if you don’t want. Just the ideas are enough for me to work off of.”

Shit. This idiot is probably actually a genius. His healed son had just regained consciousness and looked at Cira with helpless rage as his tears flowed to the sand below. How did he fail his son so badly? Or was the boy inherently insufferable? Perhaps sorcery was never the path for him after all. I need to be careful what I say around Roman and Eliza, in any case.

“Who said phylacteries need to be of physical form?” Dammit, I’m on a roll. I need to shut up and write this down. The entirety of Archaeum may as well have been a phylactery for that Bone Lord. I should have asked his name, not some stupid title he’s been telling himself in his dark cave for the last couple hundred years. “If you think about it, they don’t even need to take form. A majority of their downfalls could be solved by—”

Shit… The light I gathered above or shadows below—even the earth within my landforms could become ostensible anchors through which I could maintain my existence. Is that why my soul feels somewhat stable? “Hey, Mac! What the hell? You should have weighed in by now. Get out here.”

He crawled onto her shoulder with a yawn into her mind. Evidently by the arbiters’ recoiled state, they had heard it too. “My bad. I was enjoying the show. You missed a few, by the way.”

Four points in space alighted and Cira ushered another group of mages into the shaded eddy via the sky. “Thanks.”

“I-is that the crimson soulweaver?!” Roman looked on in horror while Eliza’s face blanched.

“N-no… How?” Her hands shook as they gripped the table.

“Relax.” Cira waved them off with a hand, “He’s my current consultant for all matters relating to the soul, and the ugliest pet I’ve ever owned. Consider yourself lucky, Roman, that I deigned not to feed you and your son to him.”

“Why would he know you?” Cira asked, “haven’t you been imprisoned by my father for a few decades?”

“You have no idea how much of an understatement that is,” He replied privately, “but I have no idea. I’ve certainly never seen his soul. His order must have knowledge of my kin. I am actually curious.”

“O-of course!” Roman cried desperately, “I am very grateful… I wish only amicable relations with the sorcerer Cira! P-please join us at the Archive’s Bastion!”

“You will have to wait.” Cira retorted, “If I survive my ascension, perhaps I will come share my results. But how do I find you? I will not allow you to trouble the people of Lost Cloud in waiting as I disappear from this place.”

In truth, I will be disappearing in the sense of melting myself down. I just can’t have them lingering here.

Cira somehow felt that she had completely failed negotiations when pleasant smiles settled on both arbiters’ faces. Eliza slung a small pendant from her sleeves and spoke first as Cira caught it, “This will tell you which direction to travel once you regain your aura… or equivalent. For reference, we’re just a few hundred miles from Lost Cloud at the moment and intend to stay until we hear from you.”

She couldn’t feel anything now but figured the artifact’s resonance varied based on distance from their stronghold. With the nectar in hand and the Third Order dealt with, Cira was considering the right way to end their meeting when the river suddenly grew violent. Its waves crashed against the banks as tumultuous mana arrived like a raging current.

Water gurgled up onto the sand with undoubtedly murderous intent and began to take shape, “WHO DARES TO TOUCH MY SPRING?! Oh—” The booming voice had brought everyone who wasn’t trapped in Cira’s clutches to their knees but grew quieter. “What are you doing here, Cira?”

“I beg your pardon?” Cira squinted her eyes as the floating puddle took shape and its radiance dulled. “Just who are you? I don’t know any amphibious little girls with slightly blue skin and cerulean eyes and… and tentacles for hair—Undina… is that you?”

“Who else could it be?” She asked, her words taking on a subtle melody as she threw her arms up and spun around on one toe. It was an entirely unnatural motion that told Cira she had only ever seen it performed, once or twice at best. Her tentacles rippled weightlessly with centrifugal force, “But that’s not exactly right… You’ll have to call me something other than my main body’s—”

“Curella! Or, maybe that’s a mouthful…” Cira sounded it out, “Doesn’t quite hit the mark either.”

“Wh… why wouldn’t you think about it first?” The young girl deflated as she grew still. Her hair fell limp. She looked up at Cira with a frown, “Curella…?”

“Maybe just Ella for short.” Cira spoke it slowly while spelling it out in watery runes. “Yeah, I like that.”

“Um, Cira…” Eliza’s nervous voice shook, “Do you mind introducing us to your friend?”

While Roman retained at least a modicum of spatial freedoms, he had turned into a statue at some point. Cira thought his eyes wouldn’t look as dry if he only blinked more often.

“Yeah, what’s going on here?” Ella stared blankly at the sorcerer before her eyes wandered to the shining pillars that pierced the sky. “Are these people your enemies?”

The river gurgled up again behind the hapless arbiters until Cira raised her hand, much to their relief, “Now, just hold on a minute… These two brought me some much needed materials, and we were just about to conclude our meeting.

“Eliza, Roman… My friend Undina must have split herself off or something, so you can call this one Ella.” Cira eyed her up and down. She didn’t look much older than Peaches or the girls who ran drinks at the Flying Dutchess. There was something of a pale glow emanating off her skin, but only enough to dye her tone a slight tinge of blue. While she wore a bonnet that looked sort of like a jellyfish, the tentacular mane which hung down from her head seemed to wander idly, or slither in place. She had to admit though, the girl even looked adorable as she pouted in futility at Cira’s gross oversimplification. “By the way, I thought you said undines couldn’t take human form.”

“U-Undine?!” Roman cried while Eliza grew wary.

“You… certainly have some interesting friends, dear.” Eliza put on a very strained smile. “I didn’t realize they could take human form either…”

The Order wouldn’t bother her in my absence… would they? Even if I revealed a secret, it’s not difficult to tell what this girl may be. Her mana is nothing to scoff at, for one.

“They can’t, but I’ve only met a couple others…” Ella pondered with an audible “Hmmm, I haven’t really turned into a human though. Look.”

The young girl started to melt into a gelatinous blue glob before snapping back into place. Roman and Eliza looked nervously between her and Cira and decided not to say anything.

“Fascinating,” Cira tapped her fingers together, “I have more questions, but I should probably wrap this up first. If you don’t mind waiting a moment, Ella.” She turned her attention back to the arbiters who were truly at a loss.

This was fine. Cira got the nectar, and she had an avenue to acquire boundless knowledge at minimal loss once she took care of everything else. For all intents and purposes, she should have left it here. Unfortunately, something still bothered her deeply.

“Your son apparently demanded I become his concubine,” She stated coldly as the boy’s eyes seemed to roll back. The color drained from Roman’s face while Ella hid a gasp behind her dainty blue hand. “I’m not entirely clear on the expected duties of such a position, but I’m positive he has offended me greatly.”

Cira knew it was similar to Olive’s employment to Captain Wick, and while she didn’t have a clear picture on her whole situation either, the thought of submitting to such a lout in any way infuriated her.

“Perhaps you have only failed him as a father,” Cira felt her blood boil as the island’s atmosphere lost tension, “But your Third Order will face my wrath if I find any such thoughts when I arrive. Now get your subordinates and begone from my island before I turn that pretentious amateur into a storage ring.”

I’ve never done it before, but for some reason, I feel like I could if I remained this mad until reaching the forge.

The macabre vision that flashed through her mind didn’t come to pass as Roman choked on his spit, backing away, “I-I swear! I will reprimand this fool. He in no way represents our Third Order. We pursue only knowledge and the mysteries which withhold it. His behavior is nothing short of a disgrace—”

“Good.” Cira held up her glare so as not to let the stratagem slip. Eliza offered a soft smile before raising her hand up and the collapsed mages with it. They all stuck to the boat wherever they fit, and she climbed aboard, gesturing to Roman as he picked up his son and looked back at Cira with unknown words on the tip of his tongue.

“Let’s go.” Eliza urged, “We have outworn our welcome. Our Order does not grow through the bullying of promising young casters, nor has it ever. I will revoke your position myself if you intend to disagree. Don’t be difficult after this child has already spared Kristof’s life more times than even I would consider reasonable.”

Cira became curious as to how many arbiters there were, because Eliza clearly held power over this one. It was honestly quite troubling because Roman had effortlessly moved through her domain at first. It was tough to get a read on Eliza because she didn’t seem to bother trying aside from her failed domain establishment. There was no resistance afterward. Her power was completely unknown.

“Listen to your elder,” The sorcerer somewhere between the ages of fifteen and twenty scolded, “I have neither the time nor patience for you or your organization’s interest. Be grateful that Eliza was here to diffuse your misguided intentions.”

The only way to dissuade the Third Order from bothering Cira or her current place of residence was to put on such a display of power. With any luck, they would realize she was not one to be approached with delusions of personal gain, but pensive hope of cooperation at best. She nodded at Eliza, “I trust there will be no issues until I decide to find you.”

“Of course,” The ageless young woman’s cheeks were pinched in rare amusement that dwindled in her eyes, “I do hope you manage to walk your path, young sorcerer… but may I ask one question?”

Cira nodded.

“It’s just… The Lost Order produces a talent with half your prowess only once every few generations. Just who was your teacher? With your skill, I must have heard their name once or twice.”

After a brief moment of consideration, Cira decided she didn’t feel like trifling to withhold information. She was a daughter with endless pride and nothing particular to fear on the horizon.

“The one who taught me sorcery was none other than my father. The Sage of Myriad Titles…” She chuckled, “Though his name was Gazen.”

Eliza’s jaw dropped as all color drained from Roman’s face. The woman’s teeth clattered as she mustered words, “G-Gazen…? Do you mean All-Sage Gazen of the Unseen Skies?”

Roman quivered and backed up against the edge of the boat, “The… the fore-sorcerer of the auld path?! The—”

“Good gods!” Cira revoked their ability to speak for a moment, “Probably?! Damn. It was Gazen. If the one you know was famous, I guarantee it’s my dad.”

“Ah… hahahah…” Roman mumbled and propped himself up with a nervous laugh, “O-of course, we welcome you with open arms, Cira dear. My stupid son will be punished swiftly—maybe some time in Kyrnsbad will do him some good. But I assure you, we only ever had but the best intentions—”

“I… I should have known,” Eliza cut off his weak-winded spiel easily. Her expression was gentle as it was distant, “I thought those robes looked familiar… you even wield his staff. You seem so much like him, too. I had never known another sorcerer to be so strongheaded. I’m almost more afraid of you, in fact.”

A reminiscent laugh died on her lips as she shared a sullen smile with Cira.

“Yeah…” Cira giggled lightly looking toward the sun, “He was pretty great.”

“He… he was……….?” Eliza’s tender expression threatened to fall apart as if held together by string. “He… How is your father these days?”

Cira could tell she asked the question with an inadvertent shield in one hand. She was scared of the answer even if she didn’t know it. This reaction was baffling to Cira, but she fancied herself someone who could read the room to some degree.

A sorcerer does not lie…? “He’s dead. I don’t want to talk about it.” That’s not how I meant that to come out.

Eliza’s composure shattered and she froze. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and fell unbidden.

“Um… Sorry,” Cira did her best to be sensitive. Wait, it’s my dad. Why do I have to be careful? Why could he possibly be so important to this woman? “Did you know my father?”

“Must have been before my time,” Mac said, “This woman’s old.”

Wait, how old was my dad?

“Your father—Gazen…” Eliza watched the distant clouds on the first horizon Lost Cloud had ever seen through the mist, “was the only man I ever loved.”