Chapter 645: Sand in the Hourglass

Chapter 645: Sand in the Hourglass

Seven days passed after Argrave and his entourage entered into the Shadowlands, and a feeling of unease over all who knew this fact. But unease was something that could be overcome, and overcome it they did. The research team—now headed by Llewellen—marched boldly onward, progressing magic in a period of seven days more than had been done in several decades. Illusion magic, itself an incredibly young field, advanced in countless ways. Druidic magic, too, spread far beyond its source in the Veidimen, disseminating throughout the spellcasters of the world.Vissit novelbin(.)com for new novels

But on the eleventh day, there was finally some breakthrough into their target: psychic magic. As Llewellen had hypothesized, it came not in the form of illusion magic but druidic magic. The secret to it came from prodding into how druidic magic differentiated between something of lesser life—like plants, grass, trees, et cetera—and higher beings. Specifically, a spellcaster of the Great Chu managed to translate a spell that affected creatures of lesser intelligence into something that could affect that with higher intelligence. The first attempt was nothing more than a humble D-rank druidic spell that encouraged creatures to approach: [Beckon].

Yet with some significant modifications that made it far more complex and magic-intensive... it proved to function on humanoids.

Its first instance of function set an uproar throughout the entire research team. It had been used on a non-magically inclined individual, and did its task without leaving any sign of damage on its victim. When it was tested on people attuned with magic, a collective sigh of relief was breathed when they discovered that, like illusion magic, it could be resisted by those of higher rank in the magical world. Still, Llewellen cautioned them all that such a thing hardly exempted them from the influence of a greater force like Gerechtigkeit.

The realization that druidic magic could be transformed in such a way not only put ever more attention on the field of study, but also led to a fundamental reevaluation of what it was. If it was capable of affecting intelligent species like men or elves rather than unintelligent creatures alone, its label as ‘druidic’ didn’t suffice. It pertained to a more fundamental force—thus, it quickly turned from being called druidic magic to being called soul magic.

Though some Veidimen were displeased at the name change, that was quickly abated when they were recognized by all as the foundation for this new field. Their centuries of study for how the magic functioned in animals was called upon to relate that knowledge to mortalkind. Rowe, with his inherited generation of study, became the de facto authority in the team. Though some found his arrogance at his new importance a little troubling, none could deny the total mastery the aged snow elf had over his field. He had even tamed one of the indomitable dragons of the world, who themselves were known to have intelligence similar to mortalkind.

A great many rules and dictates of the magic were revealed, but many gravitated toward the simplest solution—and rightfully so. If an animal already had a druidic bond with someone else, it could not gain another. The principle thus arose that, to defend the soul from soul magic, one must either have their soul bound to another, or bind their soul to themselves.

As higher-ranked druidic spells were translated, that first theory was finally confirmed. Another well-paid non-magically inclined human guinea pig was bound to another, whereupon another caster attempted to exert control over his mind. It failed, utterly. Meanwhile, everyone was greatly unsettled by the slave-like state the victims of soul magic fell into immediately. On the bright side, as with druidic magic, the bond between souls was such that the caster felt an affinity with the person, and found it difficult to hurt them. That almost made it worse, in the eyes of most present—such a relationship could become a twisted possessiveness the likes of which would easily be the subject of poetic tragedies.

Elenore was incredibly thorough in keeping all of this under wraps. All involved were escorted by soldiers of the royal army, because rumors of this research spreading beyond its confines could be disastrous. The notion of this deprivation of free will was immensely unsettling, even to her. It took a great deal of skill to cast these spells, and they could be resisted by magic users, yet that was just the problem. It presented an opportunity for spellcasters to become dictators that could seize the very souls of their subjects.

At once, Artur was called upon to implement a solution that could be distributed for normal people. His Hall of Enchantment was virtually nationalized in that Elenore was very controlling over this project. Artur chafed at first, but once he knew what he was dealing with, cooperated with Elenore. His only request was as it usually was—money and recognition, and much of them both. Elenore obliged in excess.

As quickly as it had been discovered, soul magic was worked to be suppressed. The goal of Artur’s project was simple—create an object that extended to the wearer the protections of being soul-bound. Ideally, it would bind the user’s soul to itself. The theory was that such a thing would create a closed loop, in essence, tying off any mental interference.

For three days and three nights, in close concert with the research team, the Hall of Enchantment ironed out prototypes and empowered enchantments. An ‘outside specialist’ was called in—Raven—to test the effectiveness of their procedures. With his unique constitution, he was suited to testing out whether or not this closed-looped system actually had any effect in preventing his meddling with their mind.

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Results seemed discouraging at first. Initially, all attempts at creating a closed-loop bond failed. Additionally, Raven was able to interfere with the minds of those who had been soul-bound by another. With two major setbacks, some thought that all of their research had been invalidated. Llewellen, however, was not convinced.

As if by providence, Orion felt a terrible swell in his chest as the final grain of the sands of his time fell. If he was right, that meant his time had come. He touched his chest in alarm, but hardened his face. Meanwhile, the door in front of him opened, and Sophia ran out. Vasilisa hurried after her as the small girl fell to her knees in her sleeping clothes, breathing heavily.

“What’s wrong, Sophia?!” Vasilisa fell to her side, mothering intensely. “What’s wrong? Tell me!”

“The night... is here,” she said, barely able to catch her breath.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Vasilisa supported her delicately. “Come on, sweetie. Breathe deep. Calm down.”

Orion walked to her and knelt just alongside Vasilisa. Seeing him, Sophia reached out and gripped his armored leg.

“The night is here,” she repeated urgently.

“Yes, honey. It’s nighttime,” Vasilisa soothed. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re all here.”

“No! We’re not safe! He’s coming!” She insisted. “The knight!”

Orion realized what she’d been saying—knight, rather than night. It hardened that feeling he possessed not moments ago.

The sands of the hourglass had all reached the bottom. With it, death approached.

Orion stood, ready to face the punishment he deserved. He clenched his gauntleted fists tightly. As if responding to his resolve, there was a deep rumble in the ground. Moments later, Raven appeared beside Orion, teleporting urgently.

“I felt a great surge of power beneath the earth, where the Gilderwatchers had convened. Something is coming. Everyone must be alerted.”

“I know.” Orion smiled. “And I am ready for it.”