Chapter 9: Talentless - Chapter 9

Rayden wanted to scream at the spectral man. He’d journeyed to fucking Penrith of all places, gotten roped into a dungeon, and been blasted by a giant bird’s lightning breath.

Couldn’t he take his reward and go home?

“Please, just leave us be. I don’t know who you are, or what you want with me, but I want no part of any of it,” Rayden pleaded.

“Yeah, fuck off, Mr. Tall Blue and Handsome,” Boh swaggered, holding up his hammer. “Bet you didn’t expect us to make short work of your pet.”

The dwarf puffed up his chest, but the shade looked less than impressed.

“If I expected you to die, I would have executed you myself,” the blue man said, then turned to Rayden with a serious expression. “Ranger, you will meet with the Mother whether you like it or not, but she is the type to let you decide your fate. Be grateful, I wouldn’t be so kind.”

“He doesn’t need to meet with anyone he doesn’t want to,” Quill protested. “I don’t know who you are, but leave him alone. If you require a bribe, my father is-”

The shade snapped his fingers, sending a pulse of mana booming into the air. The shockwave knocked Rayden down onto his back, and suddenly he was looking up at a faintly green sky illuminated with bolts of forked lightning.

The shade's voice beamed into his head.

“Find your answers above.”

As the voice rattled in his skull, Rayden was too preoccupied with staying conscious to find any cryptic answers. He was dizzy, cold, and immobilized. The storm above the castle began to blur, mixing into a foggy soup of clouds. He thought he had blacked out for a second, until his vision stabilized and the sky returned in perfect detail.

It was merely a light rain now, cool and pleasant on his skin. Occasional flashes of lightning lit up a forest canopy he remembered, but couldn’t place. A soft breeze floated by. Thunder rumbled, echoing in the distance. The noise was calming, and the soft dirt beneath him made a decent bed.

Yet, there was just something about this place that just made him so sad.

Wait, what the fuck?

He bolted upright, gasping at the sudden change of scenery. Looking around, he saw that his comrades had vanished, as well as the conniving shade. There was no castle, no quasar, and no sign of Penrith’s rocky hills.

He was lying in a small leaf-covered clearing in the center of a forest, surrounded by a circle of oak trees. Rayden supposed this could be a new part of the same dungeon, but couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he’d been here before. Something was wrong, or at least warped. He had either had an incredibly vivid dream, or there was magic at play. Searching with his mana sense, a ridiculous concentration of mana suggested the latter.

“Sorry for the abrupt change,” a tired voice called out. “I know it's disorienting, but it’s easier on your mind this way.”

Rayden startled, heart pounding, as he turned around. A beautiful middle-aged woman was sitting on a large weathered rock, watching him with calm green eyes and perfect posture. Her flowing black robe billowed like a cloud, hiding her frame beneath its folds. Based on the way it flickered in color from light gray to inky black, he imagined it was enchanted.

She wore a single piece of jewelry, a silver circlet across her forehead that complemented the long gray hair flowing down her back. She was regal, and beautiful, and…strong. Just attempting to sense her mana made Rayden involuntarily gasp. It was an endless well of power that he couldn’t come close to comprehending. She made the shade seem like a pawn in comparison, and he now realized why the man had called himself a servant.

“Are you the Mother?” He asked, trying to suppress a shiver.

“Yes,” the woman nodded. “Or at least, that is what Felmin calls me…as well as others.”

The way she looked at him reminded him of a tutor he’d had in Arvus, a woman making a careful assessment of the clay she’d be tasked with molding.

“Can I ask what you are the mother of?”

“Many things,” she said with a small smile. “My role has changed over time. Truthfully, I wish it hadn’t.”

“And why is that?”

The Mother blinked, idly tapping a finger on the rock she was sitting on.

“Because your world has suffered, and so have I.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she nodded.

Even though her facial expression remained flat, he got the feeling that her curt replies were not intentionally rude, merely spoken by a woman who was very, very tired.

Rayden decided to be a smart ass, despite his better judgment.

“If I keep asking you questions, will I get more than just cryptic vagueries, or should I just shut up?”

“Try a different question,” she advised, calmly resting her chin in her hand.

She gazed up at him expectantly, offering no further guidance. Countless questions raced through Rayden’s mind, nearly overwhelming him, until their strange location came to the forefront.

“Where am I?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “But you do. It must be important for you to perceive it as your Refuge.”

“My Refuge?”

Rayden squinted, examining the forest a second time. A Refuge was supposedly a glimpse of your inner self, the manifestation of your mana heart, and something you could only access once you had earned your Talent. However, he didn’t remember entering the quasar yet, nor had he ever heard of another person being able to enter someone else’s Refuge and hold court inside.

Confused, he cycled mana throughout his body and quickly discovered that his reserves had expanded. Even stranger, he could feel a second heartbeat on the right side of his chest, pumping out mana on the offbeat of his original. The strange syncopation felt...powerful...and correct. It was like the rhythm always had belonged to him.

There was something else too, a phantom feeling tickling his mind, begging him to discover its depths.

Acting on instinct, Rayden reached out with his mana and felt it seep into the air around him, no longer imprisoned within his body. It was thrilling and alien feeling, yet the movement came to him naturally. Somehow, Rayden had been transformed unawares, surpassing the limits of being merely Attuned.

The Mother could be lying about everything else, but he should have a Refuge because he definitely had a Talent.

“How is this possible?” he said in panic. “I didn’t go through the quasar yet. How the fuck are you here?”

“Felmin, or his shade, rather, took you and your companions through the exit,” the Mother said calmly. “You don’t remember because of my intervention. However, you now have your Talent. Congratulations. And I believe I am sitting on your Glyph.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

She stood up, revealing the face of the stone she had been resting on, where a few poorly etched words had been engraved with an unsteady hand.

It read simply: She was not wrong.

He had carved the words himself, nearly ten years ago. The short sentence cut deep, unleashing a flood of painful memories.

That night had been the first time he had truly felt alone, watching a storm pass through the forest and leave him behind. He had been envious of its unabashed wrath, tearing through the landscape with howling fury and thunderous arrival, while he hid below so no one could see his pain.

His Refuge had become where his childhood ended and his dreams of revenge began.

It was where he had been inspired to carve his rebellion into stone, feeling small and powerless in the way that only nature can render. He knew that they would blame his mother, so he decided to become a living reminder that she had, and always would be, in the right.

And one day he would bring them to the gallows and lay bare their wrongs.

Looking back, it was fitting that his Refuge reflected that moment, and that the carving became his Glyph; the symbol of his Talent and its eventual transformation. Though the memorial was visually the same, his mana revealed a new depth to the words. It was the subconscious root of what the phrase meant to him, twisted by mana into a power he, and only he, could call upon.

Furious wind, jagged lightning, booming thunder. Those were his properties, and he instinctively knew how to shape them with his mana. Right now, they would manifest as mere magic tricks, neutered by the limitations of his fledgling mana heart and body, but eventually, he could transform himself into a walking typhoon.

Rayden found his powers fitting…if not a bit sad. Those who were Attuned could guide their Talent’s manifestation to a limited extent, but only if it matched their true subconscious intent–or so he had been told. It was tragic that a single night of tumult had formed an intent that ten years of adulthood hadn’t been able to scrub away.

Yet, that was what made childhood precious. Men and women had a sense of their place, and of the ambivalence with which the world regarded them. A child still believed they were the center of the universe, and from their precocious throne, dared to decree that the world should treat them fairly. They could feel the vicissitudes of life so deeply that when someone wronged them, it left an imprint on their soul.

And that night, he had been branded.

He felt his old anger rising in his chest, threatening to spill out as raging mana, but he remembered he was not alone. A powerful woman had somehow infiltrated his Refuge and was now carefully regarding him.

Thinking it through, he wondered whether his Talent was truly his. The shade and crow had displayed similar powers to those he had just unlocked, after all.

“No, I have not influenced your Talent,” his visitor said suddenly.

He looked up at her in surprise, not having voiced his concern.

“You can read my mind?” Rayden spat.

It was a bit silly to be indignant at this point, but he was already agitated by his memories, and he still couldn’t fathom why this woman and her servant were messing with him in particular.

“No, I cannot read your mind. I can sense your emotions because they leak into your mana. Just now, I felt the your anger and suspicion. Eventually, you can learn to control that, but not now,” she said, speaking slowly and patiently.

The woman truly reminded him of a teacher.

“But your compatibility with my powers makes it easier to give you my blessing, that is partially why you were chosen,” she continued. “Those strong enough, like Felmin, can assess Talents before they bloom. When you entered the dungeon, he determined your Talent's direction and arranged our meeting.”

Rayden didn’t trust her words completely, but the explanation aligned better with what he believed could be possible. The answer was a salve for his pride, because as much as he wanted power, he didn’t want his subconscious played with like a toy. Still, that didn’t explain how they were speaking in the first place.

“OK, but if this is my Refuge, which, by my understanding, is essentially my mind,” he said, scratching his head. “How the fuck is this possible? How are you here?”

The mysterious woman sighed, then looked up at the sky as a bolt of lightning illuminated a thick layer of clouds. A peal of thunder rumbled moments later, echoing in the gap of her silence. A few seconds later, her mouth dipped into a slight frown as she slowly shook her head.

“I cannot explain. Not because you don’t deserve it, or because I don’t want to, but because our time is limited and the knowledge would endanger you. Patronizing, I know, and I apologize. Right now, you don’t understand what it costs me to do this, to hide our meeting from the prying eyes in your kingdom and give you my blessing. So I will simply say this…”

Her green eyes flickered dangerously, like the sky before a tornado.

“I do not make puppets. You will choose whether to accept my blessing before we part, and then you will choose what to do with it. I meddle in affairs, and I bestow gifts, but I do it to empower the deserving and spite those I hate. That is my creed.”

The wind picked up around them, as if galvanized by the strength of her words. Rayden found it difficult to maintain eye contact as she stared into his soul.

He glanced down at the wet dirt below him and took a deep breath. Every time the Mother spoke, a thousand existential questions rattled around his head, and yet her patient demeanor made him feel like an impatient child asking their parents inane questions. It was confusing, and it wasn’t like he was a willing participant.

“Ok…then what do you want from me? What exactly is your blessing?” He asked eventually. “And…why me, is it really just because I have a matching Talent?”

“I wish to know the story of this place,” she replied, gesturing to the forest around them. “Your story, the reason why your Refuge is here. The truth of your experience is the currency you must exchange for my blessing. In return, I will give you power and protection.”

Her face softened, allowing a weary but kind smile to settle in.

“As for why you have been chosen, it is both circumstance and worthiness. You found and cleared the dungeon I helped create before anyone else, and earned Fermin’s approval while doing so. The latter is especially difficult, so well done.”

She chuckled to herself, then stared off into the sky again.

“You created a dungeon?” Rayden mouthed in disbelief.

“I created the conditions. Its contents, beyond Felmin, had nothing to do with me.”

“Good…that place was fucked up,” he said, eyebrows raised. “So you’re the reason the mana density is increasing near Penrith, then?”

She nodded, unblinking.

“Yes, and other places as well.”

He froze for a second, thinking through the implications, then blanched.

“... it's going to be chaos.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “It will be, and I’m hoping you will be part of it, but that’s up to you.”

“What about Penrith, and towns like it?” He asked. “If you’re increasing mana in the outskirts, these places are going to get trampled when the nobles find out.”

For a second, her calm gaze faltered, but she regained her composure quickly.

“Those areas will have the most time before your kingdom realizes what’s going on. I hope that empowering people like you will help them survive. It’s not perfect, but some people have to stand up and fight. I intend to give them the strength required.”

“You really believe that’s worth it?” He questioned. “You might be giving me a choice, but you aren’t giving the people who will end up caught in the middle one.”

The Mother’s face darkened.

“I do, Rayden. Your point is valid, but how exactly are those people's lives right now? I assume you’ve been to the place you call Penrith. How are its citizens fairing under the Kingdom's rule?”

She crossed her arms, leaned on one leg, and cupped her hands to the sky. She let the water fall through the cracks of her hands as she turned back to him with a wistful expression.

“If you prefer, you can end this conversation now, carry on with your Talent, and never hear from me again. However, if you do want my blessing, then speak. Our time grows short.”

Shooting her an annoyed look, he sat down on the stone housing his Glyph and cradled his face in his hands. A strange and mysterious arbiter was asking for his life story, like something out of a fae tale parents scared their children with. His deeply ingrained irreverence was urging him to tell the Mother to fuck off, but he already knew he wasn’t going to.

Though he had lost some of his fire during the ten years that followed his mother’s death, he had gained some things as well. Traveling the Rim had slowly rebuilt his faith in people–maybe not on the whole, but in some individuals who believed in helping more than just themselves. He strived to be one, after all.

The mayor and the chamberlain were good examples, two people who tried their best at thankless jobs in a town no one else cared about. Rayden knew his easy-going personality bordered on naivety sometimes, but it was also the reason four Talented adventurers from totally different backgrounds had stuck with him today.

He had little faith in gods, and was even skeptical of humanity itself, but he was willing to invest in people.

Even though this woman’s carefully guarded words irked him, he badly wanted to believe that someone so much more powerful than him was trying to help. At the very least, she was opposing the kingdom’s royals, and that was the quickest way to his hardened heart.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll tell you… But it's not so much my story as it is my mother's.”

The moment he finished the sentence, the woman was standing right in front of him with a hand outstretched toward his forehead, covered in glittering blue mana. “Thank you, Rayden,” she said softly, then the mesmerizing energy dazed him with a brilliant flash. “This will help you focus.”