HO HO HAHAHAHAHAHA

~~~

Being a spell is a surprisingly corporeal experience.

Warlic had expected consciousness, of course. It was a key component of the original spell, necessarily retained in the modified version they had actually used. He had simply expected it to be a… less embodied experience. Awareness and thought but no physicality behind it; a change of form, the experience of becoming the magic which would hold back Aequilibria; a state of being while almost unmade.

Admittedly, there have been times since the casting where it has felt that way, where their purpose in doing this overrode all else, where all of their effort was needed to counter the attempts to break through. Those moments could be difficult to describe as a corporeal experience.

But, for the most part, being a spell feels like physically standing in an endless, featureless, white space. It has no discernible shape, no visible distinction between floor and wall and ceiling, and it doesn’t actually strictly require standing – the space seems to rearrange itself around any given position. If you stand, there is a floor. If you sit, there is something to sit on. Even those moments do not always seem to require effort, only intent – there are times where it feels more like teleportation from one position to another than the movement of a body. It is also consistently comfortably warm, which is the detail which makes Warlic certain that this is the inside of the spell that they cast, with Alexander’s flames woven into its make. At times, if he focuses, he can almost feel the shape of Aequilibria beneath-and-within it.

The endless nature of the space has also allowed for the three of them to have more than enough room to have distance from each other as needed, even tangled around each other as they are. He has not yet felt much need to pull himself away and take time but Alexander has, on occasion, gone away to think things over alone. Jaania in particular had made extensive use of the ability to pick a direction and just keep walking, at first. She had been feeling things about their situation quite intensely, understandably. After that, she had spent some time intently focused on their duty in keeping the shield maintained. While it is impossible to tell how long it has been, she has started to spend time around the two of them and make conversation now. They can even get through more conversations without any of them yelling at the others than the other way around. It’s nice, being able to get to know each other again. To simply exist in a shared space and talk. To share jokes, even.

In Warlic’s eyes, the key thing that allows for it is this: none of them are worried. They have things to work through, certainly, but they all know that they not only must but can hold the line for as long as they are needed. And, someday, they won’t be needed. Whether by the hands of the hero they know or another who succeeds them, Aequilibria will slumber again. He would like it if it was their hero who managed it – there are a great many people he would like to see again before too much time passes – but if it is another in the end, it would be victory nonetheless.

(He had voiced this thought aloud, once. Jaania had hmmed thoughtfully and then declined to share any further thoughts on the subject. Alexander has, very convincingly for a man with only empty sockets, rolled his eyes and said “Yes, yes, we’re fighting an endless battle against the unkillable foe that is the core of our world, but at least we aren’t stressed about it.”)

Warlic is also almost certain that the physical forms they perceive themselves as aren’t their true bodies. For one thing, they have required no maintenance – no need to eat, or sleep, or perform any of the other necessary parts of bodily upkeep. Time in this place feels distant and unreal, the only true distinctions feeling like ‘before’ and ‘now’, but it must have been long enough for something to have been needed by now, if they were truly physical. For another, his apparent body fights him far too little to be the real one. A part of him thinks that it could simply be the constant draining of the mana he produces to power the spell providing the relief but… it simply feels too easy, existing this way. It’s a new experience, quite unlike the body that he’s used to.

He wonders sometimes, if these apparent physical forms have true appearances. If he is seeing himself and the others as he expects to; if Jaania and Alexander are seeing the same thing he is, or as each other.

This entire experience has utterly fascinating implications about perception of self and consciousness and the way that those concepts can interact with magic. It makes his fingers itch for a writing implement to take notes with and his brain itch for his library. He wants to research if there are records of similar phenomena, if there are patterns in how it presents-

“Uh oh,” says Alexander, beside him. “You’ve got that ‘hopeless nerd’ look on your face again.”

Warlic does not startle.

“I don’t have a ‘hopeless nerd’ look,” he protests.

“Yes, you do,” says Alexander. “It shows up when you’re thinking about your library and how much you want to write notes about this.”

“It does not-”

Aequilibria’s presence fluctuates in the way that it does when a point in the net is about to be tested. There’s a slight tug on Warlic’s mana as the shield responds, a minor flare to Alexander’s flames.

Warlic and Alexander silently take two sidesteps away from each other.

“Oh no you don’t!” Jaania cries, flying through the space between them at speed, arm raised and ready to resist Aequilibria’s might. She slams her hands down onto the perceived-floor of the space as though to symbolically hold back the threat with physical strength while the magic that they are does the same.

Warlic sighs.

“She must know that the theatrics aren’t necessary,” he says.

Alexander snorts.

“She’ll admit that she’s doing it for the fun of it eventually,” he says.

A distance away, Jaania stands back up and brushes her knees as though to dislodge non-existent dust. She rolls her shoulders and stalks away with the posture of a predator, seeking out Aequilibria’s next attempt in the making. She pointedly does not look back at them.

“I think she heard us,” Alexander muses.

“I think pretending she doesn’t know it’s for fun is part of it, at this point,” Warlic replies.

“Well, obviously,” says Jaania, from behind them.

They both shriek. Loudly.

The academy tower shook and explosions echoed from below. Jaania startled, dropping the textbook she’d been trying to read. Warlic and Alex were back to fighting. She’d been hoping they would work out their issues, but they lacked the maturity to do so, didn’t they? At this rate, they were bound to kill one another. It was up to her to be the adult. She slammed her book closed and stood. 

The commotion continued. Judging by the direction and volume, they had to be rather far beneath her. The basement, perhaps? Just what kind of fight had they started this time, all the way down there? She wasn’t even sure what she would do once she found them. 

Freeze them in place, stop this all before it starts.

…What an odd thought to pop into her head. She was hardly a cryomancer. Besides, frustrated as she was, that was precisely the thing she was trying to prevent. She was sick and tired of seeing her friends hurt. 

She hurried down to the basement, past curious wisps and deserted posts where guards should be. Dread and panic swirled in her stomach. The explosions were deafening now, and joined by the smell of burning. Burning flesh, melting to the bone– She steadied herself on the wall, suddenly overcome with nausea. There was no smell of burning flesh– not yet– so, why…? 

Jaania shook it off and threw open the last door in the hall. For a brief moment, she was frozen, powerless, and Alex was burning.

And then she found herself back in the hallway, gripping the door handle. 

What was that? What happened? Had it happened? It was all so fast, too fast to make sense of, and now she was here again. She replayed the events in her mind, without even thinking to do so.

Alexander meant to imprison Warlic in ice. Warlic deflected the spell onto me then immolated Alexander. 

That was true, wasn’t it? It did happen. The sensations of frostbite and paralysis were undeniably familiar. And Alex… The smell of burning flesh, that was him. It happened, yet she was here. 

You can stop it.

She could. Warm, staticky air filled her lungs. Kinetic potential, a capacity for change, trembled in her fingers. She knew the order of events. She had the knowledge to disrupt them. She was not trapped. She would not be trapped.

Jaania opened the door to Alexander’s eternal ice spell, then Warlic’s fiery deflection. She deflected the spell right back, striking Warlic in the back. He gasped as the ice, now hers and Alex’s, engulfed him. All fire was smothered in an instant. There was only ice, and silence, then a friend’s laugh that made her flinch.

Was she too late? No, this is Alex’s voice, not– 

“It worked! The spell really worked!” Alexander’s grin was horrible, far too pleased with himself, so naive about what he’d done what he almost did, what almost happened– 

He locked eyes with Jaania and his smile dropped. Was she furious? Crying?

“…Jaania?”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What Warlic almost did to you? What you both almost did to me?” Her voice shook with words beyond her understanding and rage beyond her years. “This asinine, childish rivalry could’ve gotten you killed! Or worse!” Even as she shouted, affection and relief threatened to swallow her. 

Alex is safe.

“I… I’m sorry.” Alex approached her, but Warlic’s crystal blocked his path. He almost ran straight into it, like Warlic wasn’t even there. “But it’s okay! I won! Now I can just reverse the spell, and it’ll all be fine!”

She laughed bitterly. She stopped it, but she hadn’t fixed it, had she? Not really. Was she losing her mind? She felt like she was losing her mind. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t possibly understand!”

“I’ll fix it! Let me just…” He held his hands up to the crystal and tried to unravel the spell. His eyes went wide. “It’s not working. That doesn’t make any sense! I practiced this spell!”

“The spell changed,” Jaania examined the crystal. Its magic was deeply familiar. She knew it inside and out. But why? You do not want to know. “It’s more than just your cryomancy now. It became my magic, too, when I deflected it.” 

“When you…” The gears turned in Alex’s head. “I almost… hit you.”

Jaania began aligning the elements making up Warlic’s crystal, refusing to meet Alex’s gaze. “We can reverse it, if you help me.”

You don’t want to do that. The impression in her mind had been reliable thus far, but on this they disagreed. Yes, I do.

Alex’s fingers twitched, then glowed blue. He joined Jaania in unraveling their spell, and Warlic’s crystal prison began to melt. “I… I never wanted…”

“Whatever you wanted, you let your squabbling get this far. Both of you. If I hadn’t stepped in, you would’ve…” She was getting choked up again, on some ancient grief. “This has to stop, Alex.” 

Warlic’s crystal shimmered and trembled. Glowing cracks sprawled across the ice as it threatened to shatter.

“When Warlic breaks free, the three of us are going to have a talk. We are not leaving this basement until you two work through whatever this is.” She looked up at Alex, and in his fearful blue eyes, she got the sense that he understood. She had to make sure, if she didn’t want to lose her friends, her life, everything. “I know… how you think you feel about me, Alex. If you truly care, promise me.” 

He looked on the verge of tears, meaning that was just the kick he needed. “I… I promise.” 

Warlic’s crystal prison shattered. Alex was himself. Jaania was free. Fate is unwritten. The future is yours to write, together.

****

Happy Frostval, Silver! 

HOPE YOU LIKE IT! 

It’s like the world’s oddest case of deja vu as he looks upon the ‘stars ship’, as the Hero called it, the cave around them illuminated by one of Cysero’s creations.

“Artix?” The Hero says quietly, something in their tone, and Artix shakes his head, giving them a grin.

“I am quite alright!” He says easily. “This is where these soul discs are?” That’s why he’d insisted on coming, after all. Something that could store souls might be related to necromancy!

“I… that’s not what Eirn called them, but yes.”

“They’re called CDs!” Cysero interjects cheerfully, though there was something strange in the tone of his voice. “Crystalline Drives.”

“…That is also not what Eirn called them.”

“What they are called is irrelevant!” Artix says, resting his axe on his shoulder. “We are here to seek them, and slay any undead we may find! I have never seen these 'Pales’ before.”

(He truly hasn’t, but something about this situation… He cannot put his finger on it.)

The Hero nods. “Right, so- they’re in the ship.”

“Try not to throw yourself out the airlock,” Cysero says with the air of an inside joke, and Artix joins the Hero in giving him a baffled look.

“The what?”

But Cysero is already moving ahead, and Artix hastens to follow, the Hero not far behind.

Metal echoes on metal as he takes his first steps in the strange vessel, and that strange sense of deja vu hits him all over again.

He knows this place.

He’s never been here before in his life.

A hand touches his shoulder, and Artix jolts before realizing it’s just Cysero. Despite the way his hair hangs in his face, obscuring his eyes, Artix could almost swear there is something wistful about his expression.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” That odd tone is back in his voice. “They say ships like these once traveled the stars. Can you imagine?”

“It sounds quite fantastical,” Artix says in reply.

“I mean, if Eirn could help build a ship to sail through the Void, why couldn’t Ancients build ships to sail the stars?” The Hero looks thoughtful. “Space is kind of like another void, isn’t it?”

Cysero laughs, and something in the air seems to dissipate. “Sure is! Come on, let’s keep going!”

That is, of course, when monsters jump them from the shadows, including another of those strange pale zombies, and all three of them immediately took fighting stances.

Artix grins. “Battle on!”

(The fight is swift and easily won, but throughout there are almost- flashes, would be the best way to describe them. Artix has never been one to receive visions, but he sees his axe seem to flicker before his eyes, taking a form he has never seen for but a fraction of a second, no longer metal but seemingly made of light itself, and the enemies, too, for less than an instant, seem to be something else entirely, dark and unsettling.

There is something strange about this place.)

— — — — —

For a moment, Cysero can almost let himself believe that he is in the Before, fighting Shadowscythe once more, but the monsters before him are not Shadowscythe, and the weapon in his hands no weightless energy blade, but a hefty and solid hammer.

When he’d overheard Eirn during the gnome’s visit with Kordana, he could hardly have imagined that it was this ship, of all ships, that lay beneath the surface here. He’d thought only bits and pieces had come through the Reset unchanged, like Kordana, but now, he has to wonder how much like this remains, merely hidden underneath the ground, somewhere he would have never thought to look.

He has to wonder, too, if he, Safiria, and Kordana will remain the only ones to remember, or if others may start to regain their memories of what once was. Warlic, he knows, does not remember properly, even if certain things seemed to be beginning to leak through, and he believed the Hero, too, had had instances of severe deja vu.

This, though—

Artix walks the halls of the S.S. Paladin like he knows them, for all he doesn’t seem to realize it, and that— that is something Cysero did not expect. He didn’t expect to find the S.S. Paladin, either, honestly. The world really works in mysterious ways!

Now, all they need to do is get deep enough in to get those CDs and Cysero can see about making a CD player. With magic. And bonus features!

(Sys-Zero had never known the Artix-that-was the way the Hero had. And Cysero didn’t really know this Artix the way the Hero did. Maybe he should change that, just a bit. Try to have more than just photos in a box in the tower, the scant few relics hidden away gathering dust, all that remained of another world.)

(The thing about being one of the only people in the world to remember a time that wasn’t wasn’t just the loneliness. It was the ache, of connections lost, inside jokes no longer understood, people and places that can never be seen again, no matter how hard you try.)

(But maybe Cysero could try. Just a little more.)

I hope you enjoy Ateala baking and experiencing snow for the first time!!!

Enjoy

here's my gift for @hdawg1995 !! i had a great time - oh, someone is at the door, please hold

So when the Tower got a visit from a mother and daughter from Moonridge, for some sort of stargazing phenomenon due to happen in Falconreach that week, they saw it as the perfect opportunity to gain even more knowledge (and from the Guardians’ perspective, for Rosario to actually talk to people who weren’t them).

It turned out that while the mother, Asteria Tenebra, was here for the astronomy, the two of them worked in their family bakery back in Moonridge, and so while she began her preparations for the stargazing, she sent Rosario down to the kitchens with the daughter, Luna, to learn some baking techniques, with the promise that she would impart her own astronomy knowledge afterwards.

“So what’s your baking experience like?” Luna asked as she pulled an apron over her head and tied it in a bow behind her back.

“I’ve read recipe books.”

“Good! In baking the recipe is sacro…sacrosan…very important! Mom said we should start off relatively simple, so cupcakes it is! So first we need to measure out the ingredients.”

Under Luna’s watchful eye, Rosario measured out the butter, sugar and flour out and picked two of the larger looking eggs, before turning to the open recipe book on the table before them and scanning the instructions. First they were to mix the butter and sugar together, and as Luna demonstrated each technique, they watched seriously before following suit, a rich golden batter forming in the bowl, at which point Luna leaned forwards and swiped a bit off the top.

“You can stick your finger in the batter?” Rosario raised an eyebrow. “But the recipe says…”

“Sometimes, you need to trust your tastebuds over the recipe,” Luna licked her finger clean and grinned. “But you can’t do it too much or you’ll feel sick!”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“…Maybe.”

With the batter having passed Luna’s taste test, it was carefully scooped into the waiting moulds before the two children turned to the oven and blinked.

“It’s too high up,” Luna pouted. “Dad’s at home are much lower down! How are we gonna get them in?”

Rosario stepped back and cocked their head to one side, judging the distance. “Hmm…if you climbed on top of my shoulders, we should be able to reach.”

“Okay! Sounds fun! What could possibly go wrong?”

“No!” interjected the Grill Master. “I will put them in the oven for you.”

“Aww…”

In the fifteen minutes it took the cupcakes to bake, Rosario turned back to the recipe book to start reading a new one, while Luna gathered several more ingredients, mumbling to herself about what colours they should pick. Once the baking portion had finished, the Grill Master carefully took the cupcakes out of the oven again and placed them on a wire cooling rack, before returning to his own culinary duties; despite the baking going on, he still had an entire battalion of hungry Guardians to feed.

“Now we gotta make the buttercream while the cupcakes cool,” Luna began before two small stomachs rumbled in unison. Baking was hard work after all, and they deserved a treat for doing so well! And the cooling cupcakes smelled soooooo good, and surely two wouldn’t be missed!

It was soon discovered that freshly baked cupcakes were in fact very hot…not that it stopped the two of them taking another bite.

****

Many years later, on a visit to Moonridge, a little black and purple dragon imparts his own baking knowledge to his green and gold counterpart, namely how to steal tasty treats. And unlike humans, dragons aren’t too fussed about cakes being too hot!

****

Happy Frostval Rose!

“What’s on your mind?”

Safiria’s attention snaps away from the window – or rather, from the curtains that keep the vampire queen and her entourage safe from the outside world – and down to the Light elemental lying in her lap. Safiria’s hand is frozen in place, hovering just above the soft, beautiful yellow hair she’s been running her fingers through. She expects Amaris to be pouting, but instead the elemental is simply frowning at her, concern clearly written over her face.

“I was just thinking…” Safiria sighs, “how I long to go out, right this instant, for a breath of fresh air. I love the Amityvale forest this time of year.”

Amaris lifts her hand to Safiria’s face, and brushes her cheek comfortingly. “My dearest friend, I didn’t mean to cause you pain,” she apologizes.

Safiria captures the elemental’s warm hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. “Not at all,” she reassures Amaris, resuming the hair petting with her other hand. “Even though you are a being of Light, you did not create the Sun as it is – no, my dear, you are too kind to harm even the Darkest of beings.” Tugging on their joined hands, Safiria brings Amaris’ hand up to her lips and presses a kiss to her wrist.

Amaris looks mesmerized for a moment, black eyes blown wide, unmoving but for a twitch of her bunny-like ears. Then, shaken out of her reverie, she cast her gaze to the side, her brows drawn closer together – clearly forming a plan in her mind. “There is great comfort in the Night,” she murmurs, though Safiria can’t tell whether Amaris is speaking to her or simply thinking out loud.

“Come here, then,” Safiria pulls her close, to lay beside her on the soft sheets of the bed. “Let Night meet the Day.”

Amaris smiles softly at her, snuggles close and bridges the small distance between them with a kiss.

Safiria’s eye flutter shut, safe and comfortable as she is, and soon sleep whisks her away. When she reawakens it’s nighttime, her vampiric instinct knows so immediately, but what makes her feel uneasy isn’t the Sun but the lack of Light beside her.

Safiria pushes herself up, resting a hand on the still-warm spot where Amaris had been, walks up to the window and throws the curtains back, intending to fly out and search for her sweet Light. What she sees, however, makes her stop in her tracks.

The full Moon is shining brightly in the sky, bathing the forest in beautiful silver light. Safiria’s brows furrow; it hasn’t been more than three days since the new moon. How…?

The Moon flashes without warning, blinking in and out of existence for a moment, before a beam of yellow magic is shot at it from the ground below, stabilizing it.

Safiria knows this magic well. So her Light isn’t in danger after all.

She makes her way down swiftly, landing off to the side of Amaris so as to not startle her and break her concentration from whatever spell she’s in the process of casting. Safiria makes sure to come closer as unstealthily as possible, leaves and twigs crunching beneath her feet. “What is this?” She asks, not hiding the awe she’s in.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Amaris huffs, pushing more magic from her hands and into the Moon. “Now, well… now it’s a regular gift. For you. For all of you.”

Safiria waits until the final surge of magic leaves Amaris’ body, and at last the Moon and sky settle into their current phase. She wraps a hand around Amaris just as the Light elemental stumbles in exhaustion. “You hung a second Moon in the sky for me?” She smirks.

“Not second,” Amaris exhales, still catching her breath. “Replacement. A specter that never rose and will never set, keeping Darkovia in everlasting night. So that you would never have to hide…”

“So that I may be free in my own land,” Safiria breathes, a pleasant chill running through her body. Nothing about the air changed, but it smells different nonetheless. Lighter. She pulls Amaris closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as the elemental leans against her. “How is it, my sweet, that you shine brighter than any star?”

“I don’t have to do much,” Amaris replies, tilting her head to press a feather-light kiss to Safiria’s lips. “My precious Moon, I only shine thanks to your reflection.”

 ~

Happy Frostval! <3 

if you need to drop out, please let me know before 23:59 GMT tonight

happy frostval!

(if you’ve had your deadline extended, this is your one week reminder 😊)

if you need the deadline extending to the 24th or need to drop out, please let me know before the deadline

happy frostval!

(if you’ve had your deadline extended, this is a two week reminder for your new deadline, december 24th 😊)

if you need an extension up until december 24th 23:59 GMT at the very latest, or need to drop out please message me here or @theloverofdragons by december 18th

happy frostval!

if you need an extension up until december 24th 23:59 GMT at the very latest, or need to drop out, please message me here or @theloverofdragons by december 18th

happy frostval!