for Essek (dunamagic)

[ausgebrannt]

[Caleb Widogast had given up on the idea of a soulmate. He hadn't wanted to, but his life had taken turns that something so precious as love with the person his soul was fated to complete, he couldn't possibly deserve it. And whatever poor soul had been matched to his, they didn't deserve the mess that he was. Wherever they were, he hoped that somehow they'd found another, even if he knew that wasn't how these things worked. But he did know the silence and that locked away space was empty. So empty.

It hadn't always been.

When he had been young, when he had been Bren, his soulmate had always been there, a familiar shadow he could meet in his mind, in dreams that weren't really dreams, visions that came when he was waking. There was comfort in his soulmate's presence, even if he was only a soft violet shape. He remembers that voice, soft and lilting. A constant presence in his life. They shared each other's distress, and times like that slipping into that shared space to offer what comfort he could, to take what comfort his shadowy soulmate offers, it's the safest he'd ever felt.

Then his entire life had shattered. He'd been drawn into the web of the vicious, plotting spider that was Trent Ikithon and fell apart in his final test of devotion. His psyche and his sanity had shattered. A decade passed before he surfaced once more, fleeing out into the night in desperation.

It's not long before he feels the ache of the lack of his soulmate, and he rties to find that mental space. It's hard, and he can't find his way in easily, and when he finally manages it, it's empty. Worse than empty. It's cold and vacant, like no one has set foot there for years. Ages. But why would they? He's been broken, gone. Hells, he's still broken.

So he concentrates on surviving, not sure if his soulmate is even still alive, and eventually is so swept up in the trouble that the Mighty Nein has stumbled across that he doesn't have much time to think about that ache. The friends he's made help, finding people who genuinely care for him, who he genuinely cares about. He starts living rather than simply surviving, broken though he may be. He starts to think he can make a difference perhaps, and is so caught up in everything that is going on that it nearly knocks him off his feet when all at once, that long-forgotten link lights up with the sudden burst of utter distress.

The fact that it happens as he's standing in the middle of the Bright Queen's palace, holding the Luxon Beacon aloft and offering it back to the Dynasty that it was stolen from. For a moment he forgets to breathe, reaches desperately for that mind space and is denied it once more. No. If the link is still there, then that means. Oh gods that means.

Caleb only hopes that the people around him think the near stupefied expression on his face has to do with the weight of what is going on around them, as the Mighty Nein are released from being held and are welcomed as heroes rather than prisoners.]

Comments

[dunamagic]

[The conversation is hard to keep his mind on, but Essek finds himself nearly desperate to - needing to ignore the redoubling despair that's building in his chest. His own grows deeper as he the forgotten corner of his mind rattles and groans as if begging him to return to it, the phantom despair of is soulmate building deeper -- it gnaws at him, makes his heart ache with a longing grief he's not allowed himself to feel for a number of years.

He pinches his hand under his robes to keep himself focused, answering the many questions these people have within the scope of what outsiders can know, as he leads them towards the dungeons. It is not often that someone gets to leave once brought there. The half-orc and Tiefling are the most talkative, but the human who held the beacon aloft is eerily quiet.

Of course the red haired human has his attention, this was the man who singlehandedly risked all his ambition with one move. The one who seemingly triggered the resurfacing of the trauma of losing his soulmate by threatening the only other thing Essek had left.

The secrets of Dunamancy and the beacons would be his. Without them, how could he save his flame?

Another question is thrown his way that he answers with ease. Yet it was this one that caught the attention of the human man for the first time. Curious. More curious was how the man's voice almost-- no.]

Dunamancy. [He gives the man his ever polite smile, the word coming out pointed.] You saw it when.. ah, "peeking" into the beacon, did you not? Saw the infinite potential before you.

[ausgebrannt]

[There's a faint flicker of recognition at the word in Caleb's eyes. He's heard whisper of the practice, a new school of magic that wove its way through time and reality itself, one that the Dynasty had discovered and begun to perfect and one that was a mystery still to the Empire. None of that mattered to Caleb so much as the always present desire to learn more.

And magic that would let him manipulate time and space? That is exactly what he has been searching for, to try to undo some of the worst sins of his past. He tries not to look quite so eager as he feels.

He risks a moment of eye contact with the Shadowhand, wondering at the way meeting those eyes feels like it stills the breath held in his lungs so that he can neither inhale nor exhale for a moment before it all rushed from him, his voice breathless when he finally found it.]

I did, yes. I could see the fracturing web of possibility, could take some fragment of that with me when I put it away. It was incredible, like nothing I have seen before despite all my arcane study.

[dunamagic]

[Those blue eyes burn as bright as the man's hair, it steals his breath in a way he wasn't prepared for -- a way he's not experienced since the first flare of distress more than three decades ago. Essek steals himself against the feeling, against so much -- he's tired of reliving a grief he's convinced himself he's over.

He's not, nor will he ever be.

But it is curious that this hero -- Caleb Widogast wasn't it? -- is interested in such an obscure and dangerous magic. From how he spoke it seemed this Widogast was of arcane practice, perhaps a fellow mage, had learned to pluck motes from the beacon.. Perhaps Essek could use this interest to his advantage, he needed to keep a close eye on these heroes afterall.

Not because he feels a strange draw to this man.]

Ah, you were able to harness a mote of possibility -- a condensed fragment of dunamis, one that allows you to realign reality for but a split moment. A second chance if you will. [He watches Widogast for his interest, wondering how deeply this man looked into the beacon.] Not something you would oft experience outside of the Dynasty.

[ausgebrannt]

Is that the term for it? It's apt. It's proven to be a very powerful tool, a small nudge of fate -- if you'd like to call it fate.

[Oh he'd gazed deeply, deeper each time, quite ready to tumble down straight into it, though they'd had to be cautious for fear of being tracked, keeping the Beacon mostly hidden in the non-space of the bag of holding.

He hums a thoughtful sound at Essek's other observation. That is the heart of the problems they're all dealing with right now, isn't it? The cause for the war, the Empire's greed for magic that it did not understand, did not possess. The Dynasty's rage at having such an important set of artifacts stolen away.]

No it is not, and I know there are men in power who would give near anything for the chance of that experience.

[dunamagic]

Indeed, it would be a.. nudge of fate as you say.

[Yes, he would call it fate, it was hard not to believe in that concept when dealing with dunamantic magics. There just was not one fate, but many branching paths -- and those that were not chosen.. well they either decayed or perhaps were sought in another reality.

Plus, with the undeniable existence of soulmates, well..

The mention of men in power brings a small wry smirk to his lips, because he knows many like that. Worked with them, even is one of them. Now he wondered how this man was also familiar with them. If he was one that merely did not have the means of power and influence. They existed everywhere, just those with the means are the most dangerous.]

Many do -- which is very much a piece of why our beacons were stolen. There are many terrible people who covet what we safeguard.

[ausgebrannt]

Ja. There are.

[And too many of them sit on the Cerberus Assembly, running the Empire and pulling strings that put innocent people in danger. Or worse. The war was causing carnage and lost on both sides. No one would really come out a winner in this, and Caleb knew that.

For the moment he put those thoughts aside.]

Admittedly, I'm also very curious about it myself. The study of magic is... well, it is what drives me through the world.

[For his own reasons of course. He's watching Essek still, his step shifting to bring him closer to the Shadowhand as they walked. The idea of new magic certainly has him acting brighter than he had earlier, though that pain and desperation to find a way to reach his soulmate, to calm that horrible surge of distress still lingers.

Somehow being close to this Essek Thelyss makes it feel better.]

[dunamagic]

[And Essek experiences the same when Caleb steps closer, the way this man eases the distress in his chest. It still writhes and clenches, his own only being heightened by the faux distress -- how it almost feels like the phantom emotions feed and grow off his.

At least this man proves a good distraction, has his attention despite everything that's happening under his mask.

His purple eyes take in the man next to him - careful not to see too interested, there were others here. The fiery hair, deeply intelligent blue eyes, scruffy and unkempt, yet the bulk at his sides and the familiar beside him...]

Ah, a practitioner of the arcane arts. [His smile is knowing, recognizing a fellow wizard.] Not many have that level of drive -- fewer still for such esoteric magics. Though, that curiosity may not be sated.

[ausgebrannt]

It may not be, this is true. But that has not stopped me from seeking it, nevertheless.

[And nothing will. Caleb is a driven man, a purpose that is held ever close to his heart, scrawled in the second book holstered at his chest, the heartfelt missives to the people he lost at his own hands, the ones that he fully intends to see again once day. He will find that knowledge, that magic, or the search for it will kill him.

Though the idea of death now feels uncomfortable, covered in barbs and thorns as he considers that wave of despair earlier. His soulmate, his other half, is still alive. He can't so easily leave him. Not again.

Still he offers a faintly wry smile.]

Though they do say curiosity kills cats. [And Caleb has a tendency to get along with cats better than people.]

[dunamagic]

[At the mention of cats, Essek's eyes flick curiously at the man's familiar. An apt choice then if the man is to compare himself to a cat -- familiars always felt too telling, many mages pick them on a whim and such things can tell a lot about someone, more than they often think. And to say the man before him - as dressed in rags and rather unkempt as he is - looks like a stray wouldn't be a lie.

When he meets Caleb's eyes again, he smiles - enigmatic though it curls wryly at the corners.]

Ah, an Empire saying, yes? Here, we have another. [His words lilt into a fluid and lyrically dark undercommon, before he translates.] A moorbounder's hunger will see it crushed beneath a mastodon's feet.

[Why was he so drawn to this man, his starlit eyes drowning in oceans. That he would almost give this man a warning before his offer, but the words slipped out naturally, like drops of blood from a bleeding heart.

Maybe he was just soft because of the despair that sat heavy on his chest.]

But, should you.. prove yourselves worthy of the Dynasty's favor, [he looks at everyone,] perhaps then avenues of your.. curiosity might become available.

[ausgebrannt]

[Caleb Widogast is a man with a brand, and that brand is cats. And fire. Maybe more than a brand, Caleb Widogast is a man with issues, and those issues have imprinted themselves into every facet of his life. Yes, that sounds right. He is very much a stray cat, who has only gotten so far as he has having been taken in by a kind, if somewhat ragtag, family.

The Zemnian wizard offers a faint smile in return, but there's a genuine earnestness to it.]

Ja, I think that is a similar sentiment.

[And one that Caleb knew. His ambition had caused so much pain and suffering, had led to nothing but mistakes and regret. He'd like to think he's learned some lessons form that, but that does remain to be seen.]

One can hope. And I do hope that we can prove our willingness to be useful to the Dynasty.

[dunamagic]

[The saying was one he did not take to heart, though there was truth behind it. Thus, why he was careful, slow - he took his time and figured out the risks so that they did not get out of hand. He worked alone.

If not for needing to get close and control these people, he might not ever tempt Caleb so, but if he was interested in the mysteries of Dynasty magic, then Essek was not above dangling the bait for him. A hungry moorbounder indeed. Though he felt some eyes on him from the rest of the group. Caution, he would have to be cautious.]

I am sure you will. Come, let us finish your business and get you settled.

[He waved a hand and showed them to the cell they desired, listening to everything carefully. Watching everything with keen eyes -- though it was hard to concentrate on the Goblin and her soulmate reunite when he still felt the lingering aches. He itched to reach out to the door, touch it, but he knew better than to hope.

No, even after he saw them to their Inn after freeing the halfling, Essek didn't go into the dusty corner of his mind where his soul longed. He would not bleed again for false hope.]

[ausgebrannt]

[Caleb meanwhile, after the exhaustion of the day, found himself lying in a bed in an inn staring at an unfamiliar ceiling and thinking about that surge of despair earlier in the day.

He shut his eyes and reached out to try to find his way into that shared space, but still it refused to open to him.

This time it was his despair that would ring out through a connection far too long silent. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please come back. Please.

Eventually sleep claimed him, emotional exhaustion catching up with physical and pulling him under.]