The world is beautiful in its diversity. Beautiful in its intricate symbiosis of different organisms, elements and energies. Beautiful in the uncertainty of the future, which makes every new day fascinating. And instead of destroying this cosmic miracle, we should contemplate it, try to find connections that did not exist before. Castor exhaled slowly with his eyes closed. It took him a long time to understand one thing: the world, the planets and the cosmos in all their glory do not need anyone. Not the Ethereals, not the Chthonies, not the gods, not humans. The infinite and beautiful have no interest in some race that will die out in a few billion years.
But their existence gives the universe that very shade... of unpredictability. Especially his own kind. The old friend had always been amazed by the actions of individuals and entire nations, unable to predict the ways of the human heart. Such is their nature: unpredictability and adaptability to many conditions. Brinel saw such manifestations not only during his time as a charol, but also during the Dark Dawn. How many people did the end of the world break, and how many did it force to discover new strengths and a second wind...
It is a pity that Brinel's dreams will never come true. His eternally frozen smile widened slightly at the pleasant memories. He had seen so much in his dreams, so many impossible things. How people flew to the stars in strange vehicles, how they built cities on other planets, how they explored the wonders of the universe through magic and science. How he met his old friend, how they began to strive for other galaxies... But dreams turn to ashes when the dreamer wakes up. Castor knew this firsthand, but some irrational sadness and longing gripped his heart.
Brinel opened his eyes and turned his head, which met resistance. His brain tried to understand: how did he manage to survive? That planetary ritual should have first frozen the surface and crust of the planet, then split it apart and dragged it into the depths of space. Destroying any infection that dared to invade and destroy his species. Even with a certain connection to the infinite great, the chances of survival were practically zero. The charmer's abilities allow him to regenerate wounds, but there is a certain limit.Castor waved his hand, then the other, shook his head and realised that he was in the depths of the water, where the starlight barely penetrated. Brinel began to swim quickly towards the surface: he had never liked the depths of the sea with their terrible unpredictability and frightening secrets. Space was much more understandable, safer and more familiar.
Castor expected an attack, so he constantly looked around and below him, but saw nothing but sea creatures. No ancient sea creature grabbed his leg with its tentacles, no ancient evil stared at him with its eyes, trying to implant the secrets of other realities into his brain, and no fish-people tried to catch him to sacrifice him to their god.
This fear was irrational and illogical, but he could do nothing about it. The mage continued to look around, paddling hard towards the surface to get as far away from the sea floor as possible. His eyes, accustomed to looking into the abyss, did not react to the irritant of the salty water, so Castor felt no discomfort.
"I hate oceans," Brinel felt only fear, disgust, and a healthy dose of apprehension.
***
He had enough air in his lungs to swim: charoloms' training was not only magic, but also physical training. So Brinel just breathed in the fresh air and then ran his hand over the surface of the water, freezing it. When the platform was large enough to stand on, Castor climbed onto the ice and straightened up. All his clothes were soaked through, his boots were squelching with water, and his hair was a tangled mess. The mage shook his head in annoyance, lamenting once again that he couldn't control fire or even electricity. But his control over ice and water amazed his mentors...
He smiled at the surface of the water, but there was not a trace of warmth in his gaze. Only contempt and long-standing fear. Castor folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes as waves of noticeable cold increased the area of his platform. Just in case, plus it would give him more room to turn around. The inquisitors had laughed at his fear of the depths, but then they saw how the flora and fauna of the water had been transformed after the Dark Dawn. Brinel shook his head. He could only say that solid ground, with all its horrors, was much safer than the middle of the water.
Brindel took a deep breath, causing steam to form around his mouth. An ancient technique of the Night Blades: absorbing pneuma from the environment to accelerate metabolism and regeneration, which allows wounds to heal quickly and toxins to be expelled from the body. A useful thing, especially when redirected to a person's magical component.
Castor frowned slightly as he looked up at the sky. The wound Anastasia had inflicted on him was gone, as were any signs of poor treatment or harmful microorganisms entering the wound. It was as if the wound had never existed... Brinel put his hands behind his back and began to spin circles on his platform while his brain worked hard to find an answer to the question.
"Why am I alive? Why are there no traces of that wound? Where am I? Why can't I sense the ether?" The mage stopped and directed his thoughts to...
"It works, but why?" His icy eyes scanned the old shotgun, completely covered with various runes that exuded visible cold air and glowed softly with a blue light.
"The ritual was supposed to completely sever all spatial and other connections in order to, in theory, create paradoxes that would wipe everyone from existence and even from time itself.
Castor turned to his storage space a couple more times: a kind of pocket in the fabric of reality where he kept his most precious and important things. Including his weapons. Help from an old friend and a share of the forbidden knowledge of the ancient clans of cosmo-worshippers. Brinel shook his head, putting the artefact back.
"It works, but why? I don't see or feel any deviations in the use of magic. Strange," the words flew out of his mouth as his brain tried to find a logical and rational explanation for what had happened.
"A temporal paradox? No, impossible. I can only freeze time for objects and creatures. Literally freeze them. A spatial rupture? Perhaps, but then I should be in the middle of space... Castor paced back and forth, ignoring the fact that his platform was swaying due to the waves. His hands nervously clenched his wrists when no logical answer came to mind.
"Divine intervention? Impossible," Castor declared firmly, stopping in his tracks. His smile faded slightly. The gods had abandoned Cairn long ago, and those who remained were not interested in the fate of the planet or humanity as a whole. They constantly hid behind "non-interference," which always amused the mage. Who could limit a god? The universe? What did it care about a small planet in one of billions of galaxies?"
"A web of impossible outcomes, luck, tiny, barely noticeable mistakes, and the influence of the position of the planets and stars relative to Cairn..." Castor frowned slightly. "In other words, a miracle."The mage simply had no other explanation. Any paradox, any anomaly with a probability approaching absolute unity, destroyed his body or soul. In a variety of ways that are pointless to analyse: the result is the same.
"If we assume that a miracle is the main explanation, then it explains practically everything," Castor closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
"But not the fact that I ended up not in Kaerne or a planet adjacent to it... Castor could speak with complete confidence about this: every experienced practitioner of the magical arts is capable of determining such things. The flows of various energies, the behaviour of natural phenomena... There are differences between worlds and between planets. And the more sensitive and experienced a magician is, the easier it is for them to notice these small differences.
"The ether is one and yet divided. Its movements are orderly, yet chaotic," Castor took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Here... The flows were moving strangely. If a magician were asked to put his feelings into words, he would not find any epithets to describe it. Just... Unfamiliar. Not like before.
"Another world, another reality?" Brinel ran his hand through the air, forming an icy spear. He had no problems controlling his energy or thought forms. He didn't feel any simplification, but it wasn't more complicated than in Kairn. However, the energy...
"Purer? Calmer?" Castor touched his chin with his finger. "Not as restless as during the Dark Dawn."
***
The mage had been walking across his platform for three hours and thirty-three minutes. At least, that was the time indicated by his old, cracked glass pocket watch with a chain. Brinel carefully ran his fingers over the relic from a time when there was no end of the world.
"Fifteen years? More? I don't remember.
A birthday present from his father. The mage remembered it clearly. The gold decorations had long since tarnished, and in some places had fallen off altogether. A small reminder that he once had the right to fool around, skip lessons and spend the whole day watching his father work, dreaming that one day he would become just like him: educated, intelligent and caring.
"If you want to make the universe laugh, start planning your life.
Castor continued to smile without any joy in his smile, his icy eyes fixed on the clock, which ticked away, moving the second hand forward. But the magician interrupted his melancholy session, putting the relic in his pocket and turning sharply at the sound of waves parting. Someone or something was swimming straight here. Not past, but specifically towards his location.
"A ship? No, too light and quiet. A boat? Not enough mass and noise either. A person? I don't hear the characteristic breathing of a swimmer. Something else? Most likely."
While Castor was considering the possibilities, he absorbed pneuma, sharpening his senses to the maximum and intensifying his magical focus. His fingers tightened slightly, ready at any moment to send the necessary impulse to create ghostly knives or flashes of Olekhra. His icy eyes looked more closely at the foaming water to see...
"No, no, no. Not the messengers of the depths."
His legs and arms tensed as his gaze locked onto the newcomer. It could have been a human, if not for the sea-coloured skin, the obvious signs of gills, fins, and hair that resembled seaweed more than normal hair.
"A water creature? A drowned man? A priest? A convert?" Brinel quickly considered the options, staring straight into the blue, pupil-less eyes that watched him in return. The creature opened its mouth and said something, but Castor couldn't understand a word. Curiosity reared its head and attacked his fears, easily winning the battle and taking its place. The mage exhaled slowly. Many times, this curiosity, which was comparable to a curse, had led him to the worst places in Kairn. Just remember that cave...
"Another language from another reality? The language of these creatures? Do you understand me, creature?" The first two questions were addressed to the great being around him, but the last one was directed at a specific creature that had swum even closer to the mage's platform. His smile became more tense due to the characteristic sea smell that hit his nose, which was amplified by the pneumatic device.
"No, I don't understand you," the mage shook his head when the sea creature uttered something in a language unknown to Brinel. Castor thought for a moment.
"There are many ways out of this situation, but they all involve risk," he said, staring into the void, causing the creature to look at the mage in surprise.
"A direct connection to a possible information field, which may not even exist," the young man said very discontentedly, "could cost me my brain as an organ of perception. If the information flows turn out to be too aggressive and strong...
"The second option," Castor glanced at the creature, which was looking at him with obvious interest. "Gutting the mind of a relatively peaceful creature to obtain the necessary knowledge. That would turn me into one of the Ethereals. Not an option," the young man's smile twitched."The third is to find common ground and..." Brinel interrupted his train of thought when his senses picked up five... Seven creatures floating towards them. They were similar in build to the one currently swimming next to him. He stared into the distance to make out the next creations of the depths... Castor gasped and prepared for battle. If the troubled creature next to him looked even remotely friendly, these creatures did not. They had toothy mouths, rounded faces, and a thirst for blood in their huge round eyes, like fish.
"Are they true spawn of the depths, or priests of the deep god?" The mage slowly inhaled oxygen and prepared for battle: his legs were tense and ready to lunge, his fingers began to form images of ghostly knives, and his left hand was ready to freeze half the ocean.
"I wanted information, and space gave me the perfect opportunity to get it.
***
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