Applying Exotic Metaphysics (Return, 22.4) (Patreon)

I stood atop the Crystal Tower, again.

Behind me, still in the Prism, still slowly coming closer was something that… I had decided was not important. 

In the light of the tower, my mind was still sharp. Still edged. Harsh. But it was helping me understand.I was starting to understand why Lovilian had met me. Why he had warned me. He never lied, since I didn't think he could, but... he manipulated me with the truth. I knew why there were barely any issues holding me back from getting here. The puzzles and monsters and guardians… They were easy. The spells all had their weaknesses. It was like they’d planned to have me here.  I’d been meant to come through here. I’d been meant to worry about… that thing. Because accepting it, involving it. Worrying about it.That left it a way in.

They hadn’t expected me to be able to enter the prism. To ‘lie’, and use the Stone’s own properties to turn that lie into truth. Neither did they expect me to understand its nature. That more you cared, the stronger it got. That it just… refused to play by the same rules.

And what do you do with a kid on the playground who doesn’t follow the rules?You just stop playing with him.This wasn’t the one that Uriel had reconstructed in Daggerfall and caused the Dragonbreak. This wasn’t the one that had become Akulakhan, either. It was… too early. This was the Numidium that had assaulted the Altmeri Dominion, back when Tiber Septim took the continent. They’d redirected it into the prism, to sort of separate its might into multiple timeframes, stretched across every generation of Mirror Logicians since the order was started in hopes of holding it off. 

The only way they could set it loose early was by using me as a medium. Trick me into worrying about it. Tricking me into facing it, tricking me into the Order the walk-brass was supposed to destroy. I didn’t know exactly what magic they were going to use to redirect it elsewhere, but I didn’t need to.

Because there was an easy way to stop it. 

Laying on the ground, trying to shrug off the sleep spell I’d hit him with, Lovilian lay.I scooped him up in one arm.In the light of the prism, lying was difficult.But reinforcing something you believed to be the truth… That was easy.“I quit.” I said. Then I threw him into the Prism- into the faltering shiftgate I’d opened into it.

The gate closed.I was alone. Just me and the Stone.This one, unlike Lorkhan’s Heart… I didn’t think I had the same leverage. I couldn’t just disappear this one. Thankfully, I didn’t think I’d need to.I had other plans. 

===

“Can I take the blindfold off yet?” Goranthir asked. 

“Please don’t,” I responded. I’d tried to say ‘no’, but technically he could, and the prism fought me. He stood there, at the edge of the Crystal Tower, with Umbra on his back. I drew circles and set Varla stones and soul gems atop plinths. A lot of Jagar Tharn’s alteration and dimensional enchantments was going into this. So was a lot of the things Yagrum Bagarn and I had done with the Battlespire. Dwemer chimes sat in a circle, the shield spell keeping them from ringing in the wind.

Lovilian- before I threw him into the Prism- once mentioned that this Tower was currently sort of disconnected from the world. That the Thalmor had separated it from reality, portions of the tower sort of fractured over each of the adjacent places. 

I was just making that a little more permanent.

I stepped back. 

“I am the world’s greatest Shadow Mage.” I said.I poured magickal energy into the circle, and my Potentia loosened. Slightly, very slightly.

If it weren’t for the runes and the ringing tonal architecture, I wouldn’t be able to do this right now. But I was establishing a space where the prism and where shadow magic could coexist. It wouldn’t be for long… But it would be for long enough.

I extended my shadow forward. Touching all of the circles, all of the runes. The shadow congeals where the prism divides.

Through my shadow, I could see all of the locations. All of the Adjacent Places it was connected to.If this was anything else, I would have sent it into Oblivion, but the Towers and the Stones had to stay here, on mundus.I pulled the Stone together. The disparate pieces of the tower came together with a slam and a shudder. It held, for now. For just a second. The rest of the tower- runes and enchantments spread across the place- was trying to pull it back apart again.

There was a possibility I could look into the Stone again. A possibility that could exist.I left that possibility clustered underneath the stone. Under the prism, in that possibility’s shadow.I’d learned some tricks with the Hist, too, and what I was doing here wasn’t too different.

The runes started to burn out. The ringing tonal magic grew louder, echoing as they started to break.I sprinted toward the edge. With one hand, I scooped Gornathir off his feet. 

“Time to go!” Before the ritual could break entirely, that last bit of potential, that last bit of ‘Mirror Logic’ me…  dropped the Stone, and thus the tower, into its own Sea of Maybe.The tower disappeared under our feet- pulling itself apart, splintering into its own shadows.

“How’s your featherfall?!” I cackled.Goranthir just screamed as we fell.

===

We sat in the clearing where the Crystal Tower used to be. It was dark, and I could feel the Prism floating sort of near. Sort of underground. Sort of hidden. It would slide back, eventually, the light slowly wearing away at its own Potentia. But that would be later. Much later. After the Numidium is done with its work.

Somewhere in the future, Numidium would still break free. Except it would break free while the Prism is separated. Each of its shards would be divided- and hundreds of fragments of Numidium would be scattered across the past. Then Uriel Septim’s men would find it, and the events of the Miracle of Peace would conclude normally.

For once, that stupid prophecy and fate bullshit was working with me. This was a loop that needed to be closed.

I sat in the grass, enjoying the sunny day. I’d have to deal with the Thalmor for real, still, and probably the Beautiful. But right now, I was mostly just watching Goranthir get scolded by the King of Firsthold for abandoning his bodyguards. 

“You look familiar,” A woman said. I glanced up at probably the palest Dunmer I’ve ever seen, skin bronzed by the sun and the glittering gold eyeshadow. Virulently red eyes looked over me.

“So do you, Queen Morgiah.” I said. 

“I’ve seen your portrait sent to me by some extremely irate figures in Vvardenfell.” 

“Telvanni business, or something to do with Mournhold?” I drawled. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”“Hm.” She looks at me a bit longer. Then she nods. “It was clear that you weren’t from here when you called yourself ‘of Scourg’. I do recognize the name of Scourge Barrow, you know.”

Right. She knew Mannimarco.“I’ve got a question for you, your highness.” I said, pushing myself to my feet. I brushed off the dirt from my dress. “Who served as your messenger between the owner of that place?”“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She laughed at my expression. “I would dearly like to know, too. But like many things, those moments were lost in the Miracle of Peace.”

“Worth a shot,” I sighed.

“Quite.” She said. “You have protected my son.”“Yep.”“You have also brought him into danger.”“He did that himself. I specifically told him not to.”“And then gave him Umbra.” She responds, crossing her arms. She knows what it is, then, and what it’s capable of.“Well… Umbra gave him Umbra. By dying.” I said. “It’s not exactly the adventurer ethos to try and take away someone’s artifacts. It’s just rude.”

“And are you still an adventurer? After all this?”

I snorted.“I’ve never been anything else.” I said. “I don’t think I ever could.”

“Still. You will have to take it with you when you leave.”I looked at her. And then at Goranthir. I could see him starting to bristle at the scolding.

When I first left for the Crystal Tower, I could see his shadow. His potential.

Now I couldn’t see it at all. Like Jsashe. Like Kirat. Like Emylee. Like all the other Shezzarines I’d met.“... I don’t think it will be the same for him,” I said. “I don’t think it will be dangerous for him.”“Why?” She asked. Quick as an arrow. Almost stern. She hid it well, but… She was worried.She cared about him. More than anyone assumed. And judging by the way he’d stood up against his whole society, getting into honor duels from insults to her, he cared about her too.

“He was born under a certain sign.” I said.

“Yes, but- he can’t have been…” She trailed off. “It doesn’t fit. There is supposed to be more than a birthsign. Many people are born on those particular days. Aren’t there other signs?”

“I taught him a spell yesterday. Simple conjuration with a bit of mysticism.” I said, my voice low. “Today, he used that to fight off Umbra. By himself.”

“I… I see.” She

“The Steed represents a lot of things,” I said, “Progress. Grace. Freedom. He may have never physically been within a cell, but can you say that he hasn’t been trapped?”

She hesitated.“Do you know where he will go?” She asked. “You have… meddled in the past, haven’t you?”“I don’t know. Not anymore. I knew things up to a certain point, but… The other prophecy I know has been broken. My meddling has changed events.”

“I see.” She sighed. “What can we do?”

“I don’t think that’s my place to say. I’ve never been a mother.” I responded. “I don’t think I ever will.”

I looked at Goranthir again.

“But I think he’s already ready to make his own choices. He already has.”

“Then I will give him opportunity.” She said with a nod. “The first of which…”

She glanced at me. “I would like to purchase your services.”“Yes?”“Tutoring for both of my children,” She said. “Reman owes me some favors, and so I will have him authorize your… adoption by an ancient line. The same one you’ve already been parading around our city. That will give you citizenship and rights.”“And what will I get out of it?” I asked.

“I think it would give us an… excuse to meet. And discuss your real reasons for entering Firsthold.” She said. “We have some shared goals in that matter.”

I was about to open my mouth when she glanced at the group of guards. Most of them weren’t looking at us, but there was the chance they could be listening.

But it was clear. She meant the Thalmor.

“... Beyond that,” She said. “You are an adventurer. I’m sure there are many tombs or caverns I can have located. You can delve them for ancient magical texts or somesuch.”

I rolled my eyes.

Then, I looked at Goranthir again. Crossing her arms, a young girl spoke declaratively up at him. Backing her up, two scamps had their arms crossed too, like goons from a cartoon or something. She had perfect altmer features; Snow white hair. Skin that glittered. There’s only one thing that stood out; Her eyes were like red lanterns, brighter and more violent than Morgiah’s eyes. Rinnala, the princess.

Still, something about the two talking, Goranthir ruffling her hair despite her growling… It reminded me of the Apprentices in Kvatch. Not just Martin, but J'enai, Tabiah, Alaric. I'd spent only a few weeks with them, but I regretted that I didn't stay longer.

I glanced at Morgiah. She was looking at the two as well. Her wistful smile was probably the most genuine expression I’ve seen on her. She couldn’t even mask it- it was just… shining through.

“It’s been a while since I’ve taught,” I said, finally. “I accept.”

===

The Isle of Artaeum drifted away from Apocrypha.

In a certain room, deep in its bowels, a dozen Psijics stood, heads lolling, as they waited for their master. Magicka pushed itself from their hands and staves, into pillars recently-carved with an ancient language.

At the center of the pillars, a hole in the world stood floating. Once called the Eye of Magnus, it had been discovered to be something else entirely. All of the wards and barriers were gone. Deliberately destroyed as the island fell to a new owner.Whispers of the Dragon Tongue reverberated from it. A war raged within, and the Psijics supplied power for it.

The First Dragonborn was going to return from those depths, eventually.

Just as Artaeum returned to Mundus.

Tandil, feeling his soul wrung dry, his body go draugur… couldn’t wait to see his new master return.