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Rise of the Archon: Book 3, Chapter 25
🕑 Added 2025-12-30 10:37:22 +0000 UTCDays passed quickly in Volaris as Flynn and I searched for answers to the great problem of mind magic. We worked our way through all available books twice over, even considering the more sensitive materials Flynn managed to acquire through charm and leveraging our family name.
For all the significance most mages put on formal texts and essays, most of these proved useless. In fact, the one thing that gave me the most to work with was a single, slim book belonging to a mage whose only real contribution came down to blind luck.
The mage, whose name hadn't even been recorded for posterity's sake, had been present decades ago when Alexandra first presented her ideas on mental magic to the public. He'd had the good fortune to be in the audience and common sense to copy her every word, likely through a spell, and it was this little treasure that allowed me to glean several valuable insights into mind palaces.
First, every mage had at least the potential to create a mind palace. There wasn't any inborn potential required, and Alexandria had noted more than once that the mental landscape, a wholly conceptual world upon which you built this construct, was something all sapient creatures possessed from birth.
Second, the process of building a mind palace demanded precision and perfection. Throwing up a hasty construction carried flaws, not the least of which was the chance of memory loss, mental instability, or death. As with most forms of magic, it couldn't be rushed.
Third, creating a powerful mind palace required both inordinate mental and magical strength. The changes wrought could be disorienting, even unpleasant, but more importantly, some aspect of the process demanded mana beyond a certain density. Alexandria seemed to imply only Adepts could even consider forming a foundation, which suggested at least high-gaseous stages.
Fourth, and this is where I took an intuitive leap, forming a mind palace wasn't as distinct from other forms of magic as I had suspected.
I reread a portion of Alexandria's lecture that I had copied into my personal notes, tapping my finger on the page.
A mind palace isn't a physical thing, but it's not a wholly mental one either. Rather, it is a metaphysical construct, formed of both mana and will, and driven by intent and self-understanding.
Her words struck at things I had come to understand over the years. Magic was a bridge between the mental and the physical, with mana acting as the level to enact one's own will. Whether it was Forging, enchanting, or even basic spellcraft, all such abilities revolved around taking what was in your mind and externalizing it.
However, it was her choice of words with "intent" that really drove me in a specific direction.
Was that the trick of it? Maybe a mind palace was taking it in the opposite direction? Rather than pushing your will outward and using the mana to create something physical, you directed it inward to build a structure that was entirely mental? If so, it seemed possible that you had to do so with an intent, which might be how one affected consistent changes?
The problem was that I had no idea how to make any of that work. Worse, I didn't feel comfortable risking my own mental well-being performing any experiments. Flynn had returned to the Academy, trying to squeeze out as many research materials as possible, but we both knew it was likely pointless. We'd run out of time and resources, leaving us with few options.
Approaching Alexandria was quickly becoming the only real option, but was the risk worth it? Clearly, whatever compulsion I had felt to avoid mind magic hadn't lasted forever, but that didn't mean she couldn't re-establish it or worse. Still, if I could achieve some measure of her power, it might be worth the gamble.
I closed the book, sighing and glancing at the nearest window. Turning over the problem wouldn't make a solution appear, and I didn't see much point in sitting around alone for the rest of the evening. Flynn was busy, and Fortunatus, bonded or not, didn't make for great company.
Although Vesper had agreed to accompany me, we hadn't spoken much since our afternoon together. I had stopped by once since then, but her servant had informed me that Vesper would be busy until the night of the banquet.
I could have tried visiting one of my friends. Every time I had gone to the Archives, a quiet voice in the back of my mind both hoped and feared that I might run into them. Every day, I had wondered if it would happen, and each time I had returned to my room with a mixture of relief and disappointment.
Eventually, I stood, letting out a low, even breath as I dismissed the idea. However, there was one person I hadn't seen yet whom I owed a visit. I just hoped he wouldn't throw me out on my ass for not coming by sooner.
***
Sig's home, like the rest of Volaris, was almost unchanged from my memories. The door had been replaced at some point, and I spotted some flowers now sat in a simple, clay pot near the top of the steps. They looked dried out and dying, but that was just a guess. I had all but abandoned my efforts at alchemy and botany in favor of more fruitful studies.
I stepped up to the door, raising my gloved hand, only to hesitate. Was this a mistake? I'd sent a letter to Sigmund shortly after being adopted as a Sion, but that hardly seemed like enough. It had never felt like the right time to reach out before then, but I had come to realize that was just a convenient excuse.
After a minute spent warring with myself—and a brief scan inside for additional mana signatures—I squared my shoulders and knocked twice on the door. I waited for only a few seconds before it swung open to reveal the massive, hulking frame of my former mentor.
Sig looked as I had expected, though I did notice a few minor changes. His beard looked trimmed, his build was a little leaner, and his mana signature was noticeably stronger and more stable. When I last saw him, it felt like a dying ember, while now it was closer to weak but steady candlelight.
The man's eyes widened as he saw me, and I opened my mouth to greet him. Before I could get the words out, he surged forward and pulled me into a hug.
I grunted, patting his back as I felt my ribs creak and groan. Only a flex of my Aether kept me intact, and I let out a low, strangled breath as the man squeezed.
"Nice to see you too," I gasped out, half-coughing as I spoke.
Sig snorted, releasing me and taking a step back while keeping his hands on my shoulders.
"Founders, Vayne, it's been a long time. When I heard you'd left the Esttons, I almost went looking for you myself," Sig said, shaking his head as he looked me over. "Then you sent me that letter, and I...well, didn't know what to think if I'm honest."
"I know. I would've visited sooner, but I..." I trailed off, deciding not to make any excuses. "May I come in?"
Sig examined me for another second, then released my shoulders and stepped away. I walked past him, taking only a few steps inside before turning back to my former mentor.
He had already closed his door and begun walking to his kitchen. As he did so, he asked, "You want something to drink? Water? Maybe something harder?"
"Water would be great," I replied, earning a faint grunt in response.
While Sig was busy in the kitchen, I took a chance to walk around his sitting room, if only to pass the time. Most of the portraits were the same, save for one.
Sitting on his wall was a remarkably detailed painting of Sigmund and Master Julian. Both wore formal attire, and both sported smiles. Julian's was wide and open, while Sig wore a smaller and more reserved expression, but I could see the joy in their eyes.
Sig walked around the corner, holding two clay cups in his hands. He held out one to me, and I accepted it with a smile.
"Thanks," I said, nodding to my mentor.
"Don't mention it," Sig replied, drinking from his own cup before continuing, "So, what brings you to Volaris? Visiting some old friends or something else?"
"A bit of both. I have some business at the Academy, but I also figured it was high time I reached back out to some people."
"Well, I wasn't thrilled how long it took you to send that damned letter, but I'm glad to see you're alright. The new clothes are a bit much, though."
I chuckled and patted my shirt. "I couldn't agree more, but Flynn insisted. He said that a Duke's son wouldn't be caught dead in my normal attire."
Sig snorted. "He's not wrong. You wear it well, though. Less fidgety than I expected."
"I don't fidget," I said, throwing my best glare his way and earning a laugh in response.
"Sure, kid, whatever you say."
Sig walked over to his table, which I noticed had been replaced with a larger one than I remembered. It had six chairs around it, which struck me as strange. As far as I knew, Sig lived alone, which meant he must have guests often.
I was about to gently ask about it when Sig placed his cup down before turning to face me.
"So," Sig said, folding his arms over his chest. "You planning to visit the others?"
I stared at him, then shook my head. "I hadn't, no."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because there is no point in reopening that part of my life. Not the way things are now, at least. They are still apprentices at the Academy, and I plan to return home once my business here is finished."
It was only a half-truth, but it was good enough.
Sig considered me for a long pause, then said, "Sometimes, people have to go their own way. Just because they didn't want to go with you doesn't mean they hate you."
I felt a brief flicker of irritation and pushed it down. "I'm sure."
"I'm serious, kid. Not telling you what to do. Just keep it in mind, alright?"
I smiled, though I didn't feel it entirely, and nodded. "I will."
Sig paused again before pushing away from the table and grinning. "Alright, let's head downstairs."
"For?" I asked, though I already had a good idea.
"What else? I gotta see how much you've kept up with your training."
Comments
Ruan Labuschagne
Siiiickkkk!!! Looking forward to seeing how he matches up to sig
