15 Searing 121
The Academy of Kalzasi
The Academy of Kalzasi
Working under the aegis of Jacun gave Sivan some prerogatives in Kalzasi. While not a student of the Academy, he was given leave to use their archives for his studies. And while he did have several books and scrolls relating to his alchemical studies stacked up around him in his carrel, those were not the first he touched upon. He had pored over several regarding curses and the breaking thereof, though nothing had come to light that would help him help Flower. He had pored over several regarding the Awoken and the vagaries of artificing, though nothing had come to light that would help him help IX. And so he had set those aside, though not returned them to their places, or to the anal-retentive librarians who didn't trust him to put things back where he found them. They didn't allow food in the archives, but he had eaten before he came and he was a past master at ignoring hunger. He did get up several times, however, to stretch his legs, to find a privy, and to drink a bit of water, the one concession to the needs of a body that was allowed, though it was kept at the main desk, far from the fragile things that the archives protected.
Just now, he was pouring over several translations of the Lawḥ al-zumurrudh. It made little more sense in Mythrasi and Rivach than it did in the original language, so just now, he was reciting it quietly in Common, hoping that if nothing else, it would write patterns in his mind of the way Common worked, the better for him to communicate with the people around him in the future since the study of alchemy was slow going and there was no telling how long he would exist in Kalzasi as Jacun's apprentice.
"True it is, without falsehood, certain and most true.
That which is above is like to that which is below, and that which is below is like to that which is above,
to accomplish the miracles of one thing.
And as all things were by the contemplation of one, so all things arose from this one thing by a single act of adaptation.
The father thereof is the Sun, the mother the Moon.
The wind carried it in its womb, the earth is the nurse thereof.
It is the father of all works of wonder throughout the whole world.
The power thereof is perfect.
If it be cast onto the earth, it will separate the element of earth from that of fire, the subtle from the gross.
With great sagacity, it doth ascend gently from earth to heaven. Again it doth descend to earth,
and uniteth in itself the force from things superior and things inferior.
Thus thou wilt possess the glory of the brightness of the whole world, and all obscurity will fly far from thee.
This thing is the strong fortitude of all strength,
for it overcometh every subtle thing and doth penetrate every solid substance.
Thus was this world created.
Hence will there be marvelous adaptations achieved, of which the manner is this."
Sivan didn't recognize all these words, so he looked back and forth between Common, Mythrasi, and Rivach. Nuances of meaning were different between the elven texts, and he didn't understand Common enough for any sort of sophisticated deep dive into its particular mysteries. Still, he hadn't heard a person speaking Common such as this, not in all his time in the Free Cities of the North. He laughed at himself for a moment, imagining speaking that way to customers in the shop, playing the mysterious elf who only spoke Common when he was prophesying. It was all making him a little slap happy. It wasn't that he disdained the esoteric, knowing it to be perhaps the most important part of the work. However, Jacun was a busy man and focused more on the scientific side of things when it came to Sivan's education. And that was fine. He needed all that, as well.
Perhaps he could commit this to memory, repeat it to himself like a litany while grinding things into powders or changing their forms from solid to gas. Perhaps the doing while meditating on the meaning would help his mind make the connections that would lead to mastery and wisdom. Or perhaps it was a lost cause. He realized he was down. His master was gone, who had been a comfort with all his generosity of spirit and wisdom. But Jacun was still a mystery to him even after months of service. IX remained in a state of stasis. Flower remained an unassailable mystery. Sivan was alone.
With a sigh, he put his arms down over the text and rested his forehead there. His mind was weary. His mind wandered. There were no nature spirits here. The nearest he could sense were wisps of things in the nearby gardens, an older one that lay dreaming in the heartwood of an old tree. But there were other spirits present in the stacks. Sort of. They weren't the sort that spoke to a spiritwalker, but to a summoner. In the liminal space between waking and dreaming, he didn't even realize he was pouring himself through his rune, creating the structure of a circle and not just imagining it for future use.
It is time.
He had been here before, but the time hadn't come to make a choice. Four Beings stood at cardinal points. One was familiar, a creature from the green dreams. He knew their kind. Another was like some mad version of the same, pure chaos. Another was light. Another was darkness. He approached the familiar one, smelled flowers, heard the call of the wild. It wanted him to flee civilization, to live among the wild things. It asked a question.
He approached the chaotic one, felt the edges of what was him loosen and fray. It asked a question, but he pulled away, trying to pull himself back together.
He approached the darkness and he felt it smile with metal teeth. It asked a question and his darkest rage boiled forth. He could be like this. There was power in this.
Stumbling, he fell before the light, and it asked a question. He looked up. It hurt his eyes. It did not offer easy, but it offered help and it offered what he desired.
Yes, he answered.
You have chosen wisely.
Sivan woke up transformed. Unified. There was a painful light in his eyes as he — as they — began to shove things about the carrel until they found a book he had already skimmed, overturning it until a leaf of papyrus fell out from where it had been hiding. They read it. They knew. They quit the archives like a man possessed. He was a man possessed.
They were something more than the sum of their parts now, though it could not last. Exael and Sivan were now partners, a celestial spirit of wisdom and a mongrel elf. But for the time being, they were also unified. Curious spirits followed in their wake, following them home to the green-roofed cottage near Jacun's shop. There were happy spirits there, elementals with ongoing contracts to serve Sivan and be paid in spiritual energies that would help them grow. They became aware of his presence before he arrived, startled by his transfiguration.
The spirits listened to them as they explained what was to be done, even as they stripped the simple clothes from Flower's body. The sleeping Fae would continue to sleep. They carried him out back into the garden, such as it was. Geb led the earth spirits called with gilded summons to split more of the broken flagstones, revealing more tender earth. They helped him when he laid Flower down, digging under him and covering him with soil fallow since the founding of the city. More nature spirits came, even the strange one that had led Sivan to Flower in the first place while on the road to Kalzasi.
Sleep could be healing. Flower would sleep. He would become a seed and split the earth, growing like a tree, his own chrysalis. When he emerged, perhaps he would be healed, but certainly he would be stronger. Sivan would tend to him, husband him like a man who cared for orchards. The spirits would help. Perhaps they would break the curse. Or weaken it. In any case, they would hold it back from growing worse while Sivan continued to seek a means to end the thing, even if that meant having the rune of affliction etched into his soul.
Kneeling in the dirt, he crumpled then, breathing heavily, exhausted, over the mound under which Flower rested. It moved slowly beneath him as if Flower was still breathing, albeit more slowly, as in a coma. Some of the spirits wandered off, their part done. Others lay below. Geb hovered protectively over Sivan, though he was safe enough in his own backyard in the searing season. He was Sivan again. Exael was more separate, though still there, a mote of light within him.
I remain, brother, it said. Though I am weary.
Exael called him brother. He knew it was his aidolon. Their strange bonding had already yielded fruit. He slept.
