Ocular to the Dying Sun

How Seasons Travel; part 6

Leaving the hall, they went into a spiral staircase at the opposite end where Mitt entered. They went down seven flights before stopping at an old dark double door with long brass handles. Everywhere, employees who wore the insignia of the white six-point shard, passed by and stopped every time they see Lord Verbasi to either greet or let them through first. Both a greeting of respect and pleasant-like cordiality to Mitt and his mentor.

On the other hand, those with a six-sided wreath or a pair of three-fingered Sari-manok claws only passed them by with a simple nod of greeting. Mitt didn’t dwell on the other branches within the office, since they often only look at him with a rare moment of a smile or complete disregard. More people nod at him, but it’s not an awkward feeling to be out of reach to these adults, he was only there to learn.

“Today, we’ll need to catch up on cutting a shard,” Lord Verbasi scratched his chin as he asked an assistant employee working inside the training hall for all their usual safety equipment. “We’ve been focusing too much on your latent abilities to read the paths of different shards, Mitt. Right now, it’s nearing your season to sever Spires from the Slitark. Knowing what to see through the eyes of a shard is important that’s why we need the help of our minds.”

While he’s telling Mitt of this, the boy started to pose his body and mind to focus on the activity at hand. Hands flexed to tense with certain muscles in need of easing, he began warm-ups left and right, making sure no sweat drops from his effort to pump his muscles and blood.

The assistant placed a box in front of Lord Verbasi, with a veritably small lock but reinforced with magic wrapping around the chains that surround the exterior. Waving their hands above the box, the chains loosen and place themselves halfway down like pulling the curtain half-mast.

Mitt’s reflex is to curiously look inside the box whenever they try to take out a shard for use, though it’s been long since he last tried to use his ability to map out the crystal system, he could still sense a sort of hesitation. Though he is alright now and can take his pace using his magic, doubts will often spring at the most unexpected moments.

Right now, is not one of those moments. Recuperating his mind includes long mental rests and all the good food catered for by the Saturni family. A process he thought was quite normal for a child to be spoiled in all things life should offer if it’s possible.

Breathing in, he looked around at the same room he’s been to before but less crowded. He’s no confident about how good he would fare, when the practice shards he’s been given before, after the incident, were no smaller than a nail. That size was difficult for him, enough so that he would refuse to shut his eyes and let himself be blinded by the bright lights of the shard.

It’s uncommon to let your eyes simmer in the blinding shine of Light magic at work, but it’s impossible to keep your physical body healthy and able if a magician abuses in vain or awe-struck. Even though it’s almost imperceptible to the effects of certain kinds of magic the human body has limits. To avoid making the same mistake, he focused on a thought his mother said could help him.

“When you think, like your will, you believe you control them without thought. But truth be, thinking requires a difficult amount of sense, where you want it to be and what you want it to come from. Letting yourself be immersed in nothing is not the key, but to pinpoint a thought. As a Prime Magician, you’re bound to be drowned by the noise of the world.

“Especially when you surround yourself with the world. The noise of magic will gradually overwhelm you because we magicians don’t just work like clockwork and tick along the lay lines. We’re all born different, some will be exceptionally poor in managing their magic, while others will find their way like fish in water. Nevertheless, even if you’re a prodigy, your body still needs fine-tuning.

“Unlike when we are in the presence of Slitark, we can only perceive the crystal. See the crystal. Sense the crystal. It’s the same here. Think of the crystal, listen in a way you know you will understand most. That’s the key to finding how you can see through the veins of the shard.”

Listening is a fundamental ability a human was blessed with. Mitt knows that it’s important to listen, to know when to open your ears to the world and let their voices speak. This way; not only are you capable of wielding light magic, but able to be a conduit to the shards.

Prime Magicians have, to consistently hone this part of their body, the mind’s ears, eyes, and other possible senses. Though Mitt has become enamored by the sound and sight of different facets of magic, Light magic will forever be the easiest to see for him.

But, to help him hear, zone out the noise of the world from his mind and memories, perhaps is a different matter. Just like this moment, even if he’s already attuning his mind with one thought he could still feel that there is a certain confusion to his image of the magic flow.

First, likely the easiest, he dulled the sense of sight from his body and shifted the way he saw the world. Usually, he knew how to do this with the help of his sense of smell. Stopping his breath for a moment, his sense of smell completely shuts down before his sight gains the ability to become sensitive.

He couldn’t explain it, but he felt like stopping a function of his body helps him gain stronger senses. He correlates smell with vision, instead of taste, and from there, his eyesight shimmers with the world. Bright ticklish sparkles, engulfs his facial muscles, knowing that his eyes are beyond magically attuned.

Positive he could shift his intended focus. He closes his eyes saw the magic around and starts to dim his sense. Easier thought, planned, said than done. He manages to loosen his grip from the onslaught of colors and he slightly felt the pain of exhaustion for a mere second. Coming from a slight sting on the side of his eyes ducts when he suddenly found his ears slowly listening to different words flowing in the air.

Conversations left and right found their way through the space as if the elements intentionally picked them up to be delivered through the wind, even though there was no other recipient but the formless air. Words could form senseless gibberish, that’s the extent of what he could understand before he realized that there was so much information coming into him.

Getting overwhelmed could cost him another outburst, emotional or lack of control. Desperate to check on himself without making the influx of words implode his mind, he imagines himself in a small box. The box became the filter to the world, slowly sinking until it only house him within the room and the other two were present within.

“Professor; is the young master alright?” said the voice of the assistant.

“Shush, not so loud Peter,” Lord Verbasi whispered. The distance of his voice was clearly on the same place they stood. “He’s been advised by his mother to train himself in opening pathways through magical senses. Remember the last time Lady Yphemu tried to teach him how to cut a Spire? There was an influx of imbalance within him that stopped him from fully understanding how to see within a shard.”

There was a hint of softness in the way Lord Verbasi spoke, but it was not of affection but of a slight tinge of disappointment. Mitt doesn’t know what kind of rejection he would feel about the way his master’s voice sounds, but he wasn’t going to let his tone disturb his thoughts. Not the least in his best effort.

“Then, it’s true about the incident?” the assistant’s voice was shaky. “How sad, wouldn’t be too early for the young master to learn such methods? I mean, I believe he’s quite capable. He was very strong and imaginative as a young boy. I remember seeing him run here during his young training days.”

There was a soft chuckle before Lord Verbasi answered, “it’s better early than late. Unlike me who took more time to learn the veins within a small shard, he should learn the most crucial of his responsibilities. The reason why, long as Lady Yphemu and I are here it would be a guarantee that even if he had not mastered it in time, he would know either way.”

Pointlessly fixing his attention on his thoughts, Mitt accidentally makes his emotions stir around when a sudden whisper entered the boundaries of the room. Just by the door, scuttling footsteps could be heard by other people. They were passing by, or at least that’s how they intended to do.

But stopping in front of the door with a long pause made their conversation clearer.

“Lord Verbasi is still busy organizing the magician’s exams, right?”

“Yeah, the last I recall, it’s going to be the usual. Some written, more practical, and a lot of theoretical applications. Thank the gods I’m not assigned to his department. His role in the Academy will always be the mentor of every magician, particularly Light magic.”

“Eugh, I miss being a student but not the exams. Honestly, I’d love to have the perks of a Prime Magician candidate.”

“Being born into royalty is the same thing, I’m not going to lie, the boy is lucky to be found by Lady Yphemu.”

“She’s not only beautiful and kind but truly strong. I could still remember the incident a decade ago. Dire-eater that many have never scarred me until I realized the intensity of their strength.”

“Oh, yes, you were there. They still couldn’t find his family though, I mean, being a Prime Magician is the ultimate blessing. So, having him be found in the forest and rescued by Lady Yphemu is better than those rumors I’m hearing.”

“Not again? Are they trying to push that ‘he’s a child of a Kabay scammer’ or ‘they’re saying some outskirt merchant is claiming to be his father AND using his name’? Those are just both untrue and scams.”

“But I think this one might be uncannily true. Not that we need to care whether he is a Kabay child or not—”

“Look, I know you’re neutral about the Kabays and Sagans, but I’m a Sagan child. Those Kabay bastards knowing about this rumor might make the young master more of a target of their schemes if it’s confirmed. Remember, they’re the reason the Ocular a decade ago almost endangered our source of shards.”

“Get over yourself, I’m not saying we have the right to pass judgment on them right now. Listen, I’m just saying; my last trip down by the south where the rumor started was never something I considered seeing. But there was a gentleman there with an uncanny resemblance to the young master. I’m telling you; it might be true that he was born a Kabay and from an unsavory family.”

“Seeing is believing, I’ll say if the young master was originally a Kabay, then thank goodness we had the chance to get to him first. If not, we can always persecute those bastards with the flame of our faith.”

“It’s much better than the nobles insisting that Lady Yphemu’s original pregnancy was not from a man who died in battle as the Saturni family insist on stating. She’s never been tarnished as much when she got pregnant, that was such a low point.”

“She doesn’t sleep around, I tell you. She works all the time. It’s disheartening that other nobles dare to say such things from our strongest benefactor.”

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