Chapter 771: Chat with Destiny

“Who are you and what do you want? I won’t ask again,” Stryg said.

“Who am I? This one’s name was once Sarai,” she gestured to herself. “And that is the name I adhere to these days. But for you, hm,” she smirked, “You can call me Wren.”

Stryg took a step back, his hand reaching for Krikolm. “Wren? You’re Wren the Black?”

She dipped her head in a small nod and took another puff from her pipe, the pink smoke swirling around her in a haze. “The one and only.”

“What is the greatest black mage alive doing here?” Stryg cast a wary gaze at the myriad of mirrors that lined the tent walls. Though he could not sense any mana emanating from them, there were countless arcane sigils etched into every single one. The sigils formed complex spell patterns he did not recognize, much less decipher. He suddenly felt like he had walked into a trap.

Titania, on the other hand, stared at Wren with eyes as wide as saucers.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was destiny?” Wren lounged across her array of pillows, without a worry in the world.

“There is no such thing as destiny,” Stryg said.

“Confident, are you? Yet who are you to say such words? Do you believe you are above the foundational forces of the universe? Do you believe you are wise enough to proclaim without a shadow of a doubt that there is no power above you, your father, and even the World Soul? A power that moves the hearts of men as easily as it moves oceans. If so, please tell me.”

Stryg frowned at her words. He wasn’t certain gods were real, only to discover later that his parents were gods themselves. “I suppose it would be wise to say that I do not believe destiny is real, though I’ve been wrong before. Nonetheless, I still hold on to my belief.”

“Confident but not so arrogant as to believe yourself infallible. Good.” Wren nodded in approval. “Ask your questions. I will answer, though I cannot promise my answers will satisfy you.” She once more gestured to the pillow seats across from her.

“Very well.” Stryg slowly sat down, careful to avoid wincing from the pain the motion caused him.

Titania plopped down next to him. “You have a lot of pretty mirrors, Lady Wren.”

“Thank you, child. They are by far my most valuable possessions. A gift from a friend long gone.” Wren handed her a bowl filled with dates.

Titania didn’t hesitate. Her small hands snatched the bowl and began to devour the fruit before Stryg could tell her not to.

“Relax, Stryg. They are not poisonous. A tad sweeter than I’d prefer, but harmless,” Wren said.

“I never told you my name.” Stryg narrowed his eyes.

“Silly me. I should have let you introduce yourself with whatever name you’ve chosen to carry yourself by. Please, go ahead. I’ll wait,” Wren said.

He sighed. “Stryg is fine.”

“Wonderful. And you are?” Wren glanced at the child eating all her dates.

“I’m Titania,” she said with a stuffed mouth.

“It’s nice to meet you both. It’s not every day you meet travelers in the Golden Desert, away from any roads,” Wren said.

“You’re right. It’s not. So, what are you doing out here? And how do you know my name?” Stryg said.

“Straight to the point. Your father would never be so dull. He was always full of interest, whether it be something as grand as the infinite Null or something as small as a delicate flower. Your father would happily talk about any and all of it. Until he didn’t, of course.”

“You know my father?”

“We are acquainted, yes. Friends once, but that was long ago. As to your prior questions, I know of you because of Maeve Mora.”

“You’ve met Maeve? Where?”

“Where do you think? In Holo’s Shade, of course. When I heard another Spark had appeared, I had to go meet her,” Wren said.

“Is she alright? Did you do something to her?”

“You really must learn how to relax. You’re too tense. You can see it in your every muscle.” Wren took another puff, “Maeve is fine. Physically. Emotionally? She is worried about you. You’ve been gone several years, much longer than anyone anticipated.”

“I see…” Stryg felt relieved at the news, though he still blamed himself for having lost contact with his family back home. It had been many months since his last letter.

“What’s a Spark?” Titania asked.

Stryg had been curious about the term as well, but he had been too worried about Maeve to ask.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“You wish for an answer, child. Then you’ll have to answer a question of my own first.” Wren leaned forward. “Do you believe in destiny? That someday we will all meet our deaths as the gods intended?”

“That wasn’t different than what you asked me,” Stryg said.

“That is because I wasn’t speaking to you. So, what do you say, Titania?”

“I, uh…” Titania furrowed her brow as she thought the question over. “I don’t know, but I think I’m lucky to have met Stryg. If it wasn’t for him, I would have been lost in the desert, maybe even still stuck in a slaver’s camp.”

Wren stared at her, eyes full of attention. “Interesting. And what of death?”

“I never really thought a lot about dying, except for these last few days. I thought I was going to die a lot,” Titania shivered at the memory of Sidus. “Maybe I was unlucky. I don’t know. I just want to keep living.”

“Even if it were to go against destiny’s will?” Wren asked.

“Yeah,” Titania said with all the self-confidence of a child.

“Very well.” Wren smiled. “A Spark of Drakith is a being born with what is believed to be an ember of Drakith’s heart of fire. A sliver of his power made manifest in corporeal form. It transcends talent. It is a power that no amount of skill, knowledge, or talent can ever match. That is what Maeve Mora is and that is what I am.”

“A True mage,” Stryg muttered.

“A dragon mage,” Wren corrected. “That is what we were called in the past for dragon magic is free of the taint of elemental mana. And those of us who possess a Spark can reach a level of dragon magic that not even dragons can touch. But it is only among the rarest of dragon mages that you find a Spark of Drakith. And those among them who have managed to survive and master their abilities are granted a sobriquet of the color they possess.”

“Wren the Black,” Stryg said.

“At your service,” she bowed with a small flourish.

Titania coughed, the food getting stuck in her throat.

“Chew,” Stryg said as he patted her back.

Titania swallowed hard and gave Stryg a nod of thanks before speaking. “Who is Drakith?”

“Drakith is a Primordial Being, the father of all dragons, and chromatic mana. He is also the origin point of our world’s doom,” Wren said.

“Doom? What do you mean?” Stryg asked.

Wren tapped her fingers across her pipe and looked Stryg over, silently considering her next words. “Like all Primordials, Drakith is a child of Null. Though unlike our own Great Mother, Aleirune, he was never bound to a world. Instead he drifted through the Null. And unfortunately for us, he grew an appetite for consuming planets and their World Souls.”

“The war of Unildyr,” Stryg said.

“You know of it? Yes, Unildyr was another unbound Primordial. Drakith and he have been at war for eons. Our planet was simply caught in their battle.”

“The battle ended millennia ago,” Stryg said.

“Did it? The very fact that our World Soul is poisoned by chromatic mana and is slowly withering away would point to otherwise. These are Primordial Beings, Stryg. A few thousand years is nothing to them. Drakith can wait. And he has. But you already knew that. It is the very reason you and your sisters have been searching for a way to save Aleirune. How is that going, hm?”

“If you already know all of this, then why are you here?” Stryg asked.

“After I spoke with Maeve, I simply had to see the man himself,” Wren gestured to Stryg. “My sources led me to the Aurous Realm. Where you might be precisely, well, that was harder to pinpoint. Until you ignited the Astral Light.”

“I didn’t—” Stryg said.

“Don’t try to deny it,” Wren cut him off. “I can see the silver light practically leaking out of your soul right now. You can’t contain it, let alone control it. It’s a wonder you managed to survive igniting it, twice now, if the rumors are to be believed.”

There it was again, Titania thought. Astral Light. She still didn’t know what it was. But after Stryg’s last angered outburst, she thought it best not to ask.

Stryg looked down at his own chest. There was nothing there but a worn, dusty tunic. “You can see my soul?”

Wren smirked wryly. “I am the greatest soul mage to have ever walked this earth. Yes, Stryg, I can see your soul. Though I still have yet to get a closer look.”

Stryg wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he knew he didn’t like it.

“Can you see mine?” Titania asked excitedly.

“I can. You are quite the talented prime mage—” Wren paused and a hint of a frown crossed her face before it quickly vanished. “Yes, talented indeed.”

“Hehe,” Titania couldn’t help but blush at the lady’s words. Now it was two people who had called her talented.

“You can see all that just by looking at our souls?” Stryg asked.

“The body, specifically the heart, absorbs the leylines’ mana that seeps into the air. But it is our soul that conjures magic, it is our will made manifest,” Wren said.

“Is that how you found us? Through our souls?” Stryg asked.

“No. After I heard about the Astral Light, I ventured into the desert and used my precious treasures to find you,” Wren gestured to the mirrors all around them. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered nothing but darkness. It took me some time to realize you were in a cave. It took you even longer to escape it. Once I located your exact whereabouts, I knew you would come to the nearest source of water. Here.”

“So why go through all the trouble just to meet me?” Stryg asked.

“To answer my question, of course,” Wren replied.

“And what question is that?” Stryg asked.

“Let me look into your soul and I’ll tell you.”

Stryg weighed his options for a moment. There was still much he wanted to ask her, especially about Maeve. “Fine. What do I do?”

“Just sit still for a moment.” Wren leaned forward and stared at his chest, her brown eyes turning dark until there was nothing but black, even the whites of her eyes covered by the inky swirl.

Stryg sat on the pillow. Fidgeting somewhat awkwardly as he waited. Titania looked at Stryg’s chest too, as if she could somehow see his soul if she stared hard enough.

Finally, after a few moments, Wren’s eyes returned to normal. She leaned back and sighed in disappointment. “You are talented, quite so, but you are no successor. Just a man. Or half a man, I suppose.”

Stryg frowned. “What are you talking about? Whose successor?”

Wren took a puff of her pipe. “You're a powerful prime mage and you’ll grow even more powerful given enough time. But you do not possess a Spark of Drakith. Your chromatic magic will never reach beyond mortal power.”

“I thought you said only a True mage could possess a Spark of Drakith,” Stryg said.

Wren stared at the floor, her eyes distant. “There was one other who did. A prime mage of immense power and genius. He changed the world and he would have saved it, too, if given enough time. He was the man I hoped you could succeed. I was wrong.”

“Who could have saved the world?” Stryg asked. If there was a way to save Aleirune, he needed to know.

Wren looked at him as if the answer were obvious. “Parathyan.”