Lucian emerged near the stern, not far from his cabin. No one was out here, for which he was thankful. With the Gate so near, most people were likely in the galley or viewing deck. Emma would probably be there, too, but he didn’t want to be in a crowd. For that reason, he would watch the passing by himself. He walked to the sternward viewports, which were as far from the galley as he could get. There, he stared at the thick inner band of the galaxy, which shone with white-hot brilliance before the distant galactic center. After ten days deprived of his senses, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the colorful starlight.
Despite Lucian’s long fast, he wasn’t hungry. It had been eight days since his last meal. He felt lightheaded, but he also felt a renewed sense of purpose.
He hadn’t been ready to learn before, but he was now. His journey would require a lifetime of dedication. But that no longer fazed him. He now realized what Vera had been trying to teach him. They could imprison him on the outside, but they couldn’t change his mind or his beliefs. Only he could.
Lucian stood, enjoying this rare sense of serenity. When footsteps approached from behind, he knew who it was without even needing to turn.
Vera was wearing the same gray cloak as over a week ago. From his peripheral vision, her long white hair flowed downward, and her beak-like nose protruded from her wrinkled, weathered face. She seemed like an ancient and powerful force, something Lucian couldn’t quite put into words.
Vera inclined her head toward him, her only acknowledgment, as she faced the stars with him.
“What have you learned?” she asked, her voice crackling.
Her forthright manner was not as disconcerting anymore. Lucian had come to expect it. “The only thing I’ve learned is that I’m ready to learn more.”
She nodded as if satisfied with that answer. “Ten days you’ve spent alone. It would seem you’ve weathered it well enough. Has it affected you for ill, or has it made you stronger?” After a moment’s pause, she added, “In the end, we have the choice of how our circumstances will shape us. It is a mage’s part to always be in control, no matter the situation.”
"It has made me stronger. At first, my mind rebelled against it. But then I remembered your advice and meditated. It wasn’t easy, but with nothing to distract me, it was how I spent the majority of my time. I wouldn’t say I would do it again, but it was beneficial.”
“Good,” she said. “There is hope for you, then.”
Lucian then remembered their former conversation through the Psionic link. “Can you read my thoughts now?”
“I could, though now I choose not to. As far as the Psionic link and telepathy, you will learn to do that someday. Once you learn to control your abilities.” She gave a considering pause. “Long ago, I was a formal teacher in the arts of magic. In that busy life, I would have given anything for even one day to myself, completely free from outside interruption. To get ten full days of uninterrupted thought . . . that is a luxury indeed. As you can see, our circumstances are a matter of perspective.” She watched him closely. “I would ask you to dig deeper. What did you learn?”
Lucian thought this Vera was very persistent. But if he were to be taught by her, he supposed it was best to answer her questions.
“I’ve come to a sort of acceptance about who I am. Things became easier once I did that.”
“Good,” Vera said. “You seem calmer. More in control. Control is the first lesson a mage must learn. Stillness is the key. Within stillness, you can find your Focus. And from Focus, streams magic itself.”
“Who are you, exactly?” he asked. “What are you doing on this ship, if you don’t mind my asking?”
She chuckled at that. It was the last reaction Lucian had expected from this severe sorceress.
“I am old, Lucian. When I was young, magic was new to the universe, and everything seemed possible. I learned most of what I know by forging my path—as every mage must do if they wish to reach their full potential of power. The Transcends of the Volsung Academy mean well. Unfortunately, meaning well does not always translate into doing well. Such a sentiment can be dangerous.”
“Dangerous, how?”
“Nothing is more dangerous than a zealot with the wrong ideas,” Vera said. “In his quest for the ultimate good, he will allow the foundations of the galaxy itself to burn.”
“Sounds like the Mage War,” Lucian observed.
“Maybe so. But we’ve diverged from our main point. I sense your skepticism that power grows from stillness, that Focus is the key to unlocking magic. I warn you now to set aside that stubborn set of mind. It will prove a barrier to your learning.”
“What if I’m right, and you’re the stubborn one?”
“Then we're both wasting our time, aren’t we?”
Lucian opened his mouth to protest until he remembered he had accepted learning from her. At least, for now. And deep down, he knew it would be best to listen. She was the only one who could help him right now.
“Despite my age, I have plenty left to learn," Vera said. “The possibilities of magic are endless, and the path to knowledge comes from recognizing that we are all ignorant fools.”
“Knowing something and living it are two different things entirely.”
“A good observation,” Vera said. “That is an important distinction to recognize. But how does it apply to your situation?”
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“I know I’m a mage,” Lucian said. “But I’m not acting like one.”
“That is the wisest thing you’ve said since I met you. You have two choices. Accept. Or reject. Accepting the truth is far less painful in the long run. It’s good that you’ve voiced that acceptance. But actions must follow words, or those words are as empty as the space outside this ship.”
All his former commitments to change seemed forgotten in the face of her examinations.
“How do I accept, then?” Lucian asked. “I’ll never live a normal life. I’ll go mad and die after the fraying rots my mind and body. How can I learn to be okay with that?”
Vera considered for a moment. Her dark eyes were hard to read.
“I’ve been a mage for decades, and I haven’t frayed yet. I’ve learned to control my gifts from a place of conviction and power. If you can’t learn to do that, the fraying will be inevitable. As it is for most mages. Most are not willing to face themselves or are simply blind to the faults preventing them from attaining true mastery.”
Lucian was quiet for a long time. The worst part was, deep down, Lucian knew Vera was right.
“Why me?” he asked. “Why anyone?”
“No one knows. Some are mages; some are not. There are theories, of course, though most are doubtful.”
“What are the theories?”
Vera shrugged. “The most popular one is genetics. Nonsense, of course. They have been testing for that for over a century. Nor are mages more prevalent in one part of the Worlds than another, so far as we can tell. So, it can’t be environmental. There can be clusters, but even so, the spread is quite even.” She paused, considering. “We can only conclude that whoever the Manifold touches is arbitrary.”
Lucian didn’t like thinking of the Manifold as an entity, choosing who was endowed with its powers. Was it a force of nature, or something more like a god?
“Most mages will fray,” Vera said. “Because of this, we are corralled and controlled by the League of Worlds. Rather than give us an equal place in society, the League would keep us subjected, policed by none other than our very own. And those who don’t fit the mold of what is acceptable become fodder for the Mad Moon. It makes one think, doesn't it?"
“Think what? That they’d rather us be dead?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t they?”
Her words chilled him, but as usual, they had the ring of truth.
“It’s convenient, isn’t it?” she asked. “What better way for the mages to never rise again? Turn them against each other. People can’t stomach an open purge . . . not yet, anyway. The next best thing is to let the mages fight amongst themselves. And those mages who can be used are cloistered in the academies, where they can be controlled.”
It was sobering how much that made sense. The mages only existed by the grace of the League of Worlds. Millions, if not billions, would welcome mages being hunted on the spot. Dirk was just one example of that and Believer Horatia another. How many others on board this ship were of a similar opinion? Mages weren’t even allowed to set foot on most worlds, and the worlds that did allow them had strict regulations.
And of course, there was the uncomfortable truth Vera had mentioned. Any mage not under the purview of an academy had only one recourse. The prison moon of Psyche. Lucian wasn’t sure how that was decided, but presumably, those in charge of the academies chose who was worthy of training and who wasn’t.
Then again, Vera wasn’t associated with an academy. She was a rogue mage. If she were ever discovered, then the League would do everything in its power to hunt her down. That she had survived this long was a testament to her skill and wile.
“You said you could teach me,” Lucian said. “You also said the Volsung Academy has it wrong. But I’m sure if I went there, they’d tell me the same thing about you.”
Vera smiled as if Lucian had told a funny joke. “No doubt they would. My ways and theirs have a key difference in philosophy. Their teachings instruct their pupils to limit their powers. They train them to bury their inborn abilities, and if they do use them, it’s with great restrictions. All to prevent the fraying. Of course, that only slows the fraying, and one could argue it doesn’t truly help. Any mage must stream some of their magic sometimes. That is unavoidable. Otherwise, Manifoldic poisoning results.”
“Manifoldic poisoning?”
“Every mage draws ether from the Manifold over time, a pool that builds up. And it must be dispelled, for so too does the toxin accumulate. The longer a mage goes without streaming, the worse the effects. Seizures, mental instability, and burning pain are the main symptoms. And over time, of course, it lends itself to the rot of the fraying. That is why it’s important to stream consistently and effectively, as purely as possible.”
“Okay,” Lucian said. “Where does magic come from, then? It all started sometime in the mid-2200s, right?”
“Magic has always been. Something caused it to awaken, however. As to the why, I cannot say exactly. Certainly, magic is somehow connected to the Ancients, just as the use of magic is connected to the fraying. That is my ultimate quest: to discover the answer to the fraying and to find a way to stop it. A strong foundation can go far, but even a foundation can have cracks. Not everyone can be expected to handle their magic perfectly at all times. Not even one as old and practiced as I."
“What if there is no answer to the fraying?”
If that fazed Vera, she didn’t show it. “Then I find value and truth in my journey. That truth is the bedrock upon which I build my life and power. One could not ask for a stronger foundation. My entire existence is unshakeable.”
Lucian grew bolder in his questioning. “So, if you die without ever finding that answer, it wouldn’t bother you?”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “If I’m dead, nothing can disappoint me, can it? Life isn’t about attaining a goal. The universe goes on, year after year, century after century, eon after eon. To what end does it go on?” Vera watched him for an answer. When he didn’t give one, she continued. “It goes on toward nothing, for nothing, by nothing. The only higher truth we know—the Manifold—is itself wrapped in mystery. It’s what drives the Shadow Realm, our reality. If there is an ultimate truth, it’s that. Our lives are what we make of them. Our beliefs shape our reality. And the universe is the canvas upon which we paint our will.” She looked at Lucian, and at his further silence, she stepped back from the viewport. “Think about what I’ve said. Later, you can share any new insights you have.”
“I’m not sure I’ll have any.”
“All the same, there is great value in introspection. It’s important to know why you believe the things you do, and in the case of a mage, it’s paramount.” She withdrew her hands into her sleeves. “We’ll be approaching Volsung Gate soon. That is something you can think about, too.”
“What do you mean? We’re going to pass through, right? In one side, out the other.”
She shook her head as if in disbelief he’d said that. “These ancient Gates, crafted by a long-dead race we know little to nothing about. Do you think it’s as simple as passing in one side and out the other?” She chuckled. “Mark my words. These Builders, as we call them, understood the secrets of magic well."
“Whenever people can’t explain something, they turn to magic and religion,” Lucian said, thinking of Believer Horatia.
“Call it magic, or not. The gates are power. They change reality.” Vera looked back out of the viewport. “I’ve often wondered if the Gates are somehow connected with the rise of magic. Is it a coincidence that the mages were born within a century of humanity’s first discovery of them?”
Lucian thought back to his history lessons. The explorer Erik Nielsen and his crew had been the first to pass through a Gate—the same one they were about to pass through. That was back in 2186, decades after humanity had colonized a good chunk of the solar system. The first recorded mages appeared in the middle of the 23rd century, just decades later, and more than a century before the present day.
Could it be as simple as that? Even if they were connected, there were still missing pieces of the puzzle.
Lucian’s mouth worked for an answer, but as had been the case so many times with Vera, he came up with nothing. At his silence, she took her leave.
