Santimar waited alone for a while in that simple room that used to house the most illustrious being who had ever set foot in that world. Despite the initial shock of being there, he tried to make himself more comfortable as he sat on the bed, then turned his attention to the cup in his hand and tried to remember the chant he had intoned to observe Lacendir. When he felt confident he had remembered it well, he began to intone it again, this time to observe Noara.
"On the parallel paths towards the divine straight, transmit in this cup the memory of Noara Sudemia who on this day achieved her goal."
With that, the onirin, still in the form of a chalice, began to show another point of view on the surface of its liquid. This time, it was that of his beloved Noara.
The adept was walking unhurriedly beside Mila-Roi through the still calm streets of Tabulém. They passed near the Crowned Garden, in the central part of the city, which was already halfway along the path they had determined to follow. Noara was fascinated by the kindness with which her mistress walked towards the greenhouse. She wanted to start a conversation but wasn't quite sure what to say.
"My dear Noara, I see you want to start a dialogue with me. Let's see, how long has it been since you last came to Tabulém?"
"Ah, Mistress Mila, it's been about four years… since that Flower Ball, remember? It was so good… a pity I couldn't stay longer." Noara seemed happy to finally be having a private conversation with the mistress.
"Yes, it was a wonderful ball. I think it was there that you discovered love, wasn't it?" Mila-Roi took the opportunity to get the adept to open up to her.
"Ah… yes… I think so… yes, it was. For a while, I thought we wouldn't see each other again anytime soon, and it really did take a while, which is partly why I thought he had moved on…"
"Love has its ways; it requires more patience and persistence than anything else, but on the other hand, it is what rewards us most when we meet its demands… Over time, you might understand that sometimes it's better to step away a little, to better value the time you spend together. At least, that's what I learned from my own story." Mila-Roi seemed to lose herself in memory for a time, precious memories.
"You and… Mirir-Roi, you have a special bond, don't you? If it's not rude of me to ask…" Noara looked fixedly at the mistress. She would feel more similar to her than she had ever imagined possible, if that were indeed the case.
"Yes… I think there's no more reason to hide it from you, Order ethics or not. But as you already know, we Mages have vast longevity… and the love we may feel ends up changing form as we face so much life. Having a family becomes a risky challenge, because our children could even die before us… after all, we cannot simply pass on this longevity technique; the repercussions would be many, and many of them would not be good. So, what romantic involvement could we have if not one that could generate a family? It would be something so vague and pointless to approach without touching… That's why our love has confined itself to sighs and gallantries, in a waltz of endless courtship." Mila-Roi decided to stop while caressing a beautiful flower near her captivating presence. There was sweetness in her voice, but also melancholy, and Noara could perceive it.
"But… have you ever thought that… your children would have children? Who would have children and so on? Wouldn't it be interesting then for you two to become guardians of your own lineage, not just of your possible children? Love always finds a way to make it worthwhile… that's what I feel." Noara smiled as she decided to take the mistress's hand gently.
"For a time, I thought as you suggest, my gracious adept, and it is a beautiful, hopeful thought. But understand… my romance with Mirir finally took root a little before the second war of Veruntia, and at the end of that war of opportunists, Mirir became a bit hesitant about having a family. He became a war hero, which was good for the Order, but it cost him dearly; he became a constant target of certain rivals, and he ended up worried about what they might do to our children if we were to have them now. He decided he would only listen to that side of his heart when the Irtimox situation was definitively resolved, and I continued to pray that we would still have time." Mila-Roi again took on an air of melancholy, but also of hope.
"If it depends on me, mistress, you can be sure this evil will see its end, and it won't be long in coming! And then I can see your children and spoil them all!" Noara wanted to cheer up the mistress more than anything at that moment, but she was also speaking thinking of herself, as one day she would want to start her own family.
"Thank you, Noara, you are very kind. Know that I also wish the same for you, my dear adept. And yes, despite this threat that insists on resurfacing, your presence also means that the solution is approaching, as suggested in the prophecy of the dawn. So I don't deny that I am especially determined to see the end of this, and therefore I hope you also give your best." Mila-Roi began to move subtly towards the greenhouse again.
"Yes, mistress!" Noara followed behind, taking the opportunity to try to figure out how the mistress walked like that without showing the slightest effort.
The greenhouse they arrived at was made of a silvery metal, and the glass that encapsulated it changed color to adapt to the external light so that the plants inside would not suffer from excess or lack of light. This same glass had a specific shine that resembled a soap bubble, making the greenhouse as a whole a beautiful spectacle to behold, like a jewel in the form of a structure, or perhaps the other way around?
"This greenhouse is so beautiful! Even more than I remembered. It was certainly one of the things that most marked my memory of Tabulém, though beauty is not lacking here…" Every time Noara thought of something beautiful, she couldn't help but think of Santimar; it was the warmth of emotions.
"Yes, my dear, may this not sound pretentious, but it is an immense pleasure to live here. By the way, I hope we are capable of protecting Tabulém to the point of leaving it intact… Without Tir'Zuno with us, I know it will be difficult, but we already have Mages preparing extra defenses for the city while you awaken your latent powers." Mila-Roi said as she opened the greenhouse door. A very refreshing smell could be felt inside; it was relieving to the whole body.
"Latent powers… I wonder if I will really be as useful as I am sure Santimar will be. I don't want to be a hindrance to him, or to the Order." Noara caressed a small potted plant as she spoke; she seemed to see herself in that fragility she was paying attention to.
"My dear disciple, your presence here with us has already been of great help for a good while; be sure of that." Mistress Mila said as she gently touched Noara's face.
"Thank you, mistress; your grace truly goes beyond your mannerisms." Noara smiled; she felt loved and deserving.
Mila-Roi smiled back and walked further into the greenhouse, which was so spacious inside that it more resembled a small riparian forest. It was filled with the most diverse specimens of plants from all regions of the world; apparently, only the primordial flowers were unable to sprout there. The mistress headed to a small protruding room at the end of the greenhouse and soon reached its door, which was completely covered by various climbing plants branched from one side to the other in such a way that Noara only realized there was a door there because the mistress had stopped in front of it. Mila-Roi whispered a small enchantment that made the door glow behind the vegetation, and all that tangle of plants moved away from her front, leaving the path entirely open.
Inside the room, there was a pedestal in its center, and on this pedestal was a small wooden chest with reinforcements made of pure silver. Mila-Roi gently touched its lock with her index finger, which made the small chest emit a metallic click sound, opening it immediately.
"Ready, here it is." Mila-Roi had taken from inside the small chest an even smaller box, and upon opening it, Noara could see a few seeds wrapped in a softly white cloth when the Mistress opened this cloth and delicately took one of the seeds. The seeds had a whitish tone almost like the color of the white clouds that floated gently in the city's sky that afternoon. "Take it; hold this seed carefully."
The room still had three chairs: one to the right of the pedestal, one to the left, and one behind it. Mistress Mila asked Noara to sit in the left chair, closed the room's door, and sat in the right chair, facing the adept.
"Now what I want you to do is work with me to open this channel with the primordial flower of sleep. I will initiate a hypnosis session with you, and I ask that you trust me to the point of completely surrendering to the commands I will give you." Mila-Roi, who had dark blue eyes, stared firmly into Noara's stellar-effect eyes as she gave her instructions.
"It won't be difficult then, mistress, for I already trust you like that." Noara persisted with a smile as she gazed back at the mistress.
"I thank you for your trust, Noara; you are truly full of light. I will begin then with the hypnosis; stay quiet and upright." Mila-Roi concentrated for a moment, took from a bag she had gotten from Fastino-Roi back in the Masters' Hall a small instrument consisting of a thin wooden stick with a bunch of luminous jingle bells tied to its end. She began to make the jingle bells spin while moving the wooden stick she held with her wrist. A continuous crystalline sound began, coming from the small balls inside the jingle bells as they spun. Then she began to recite a soft chant with a serene and intent look.
"My dream, make it yours, listen well to what comes from beyond."
Noara didn't feel anything immediately, but gradually she began to feel invaded by that jingle bell sound, to the point that it became all she heard. And before she knew it, she had entered a trance. Mila-Roi then stopped spinning the instrument and began to evoke commands in a soft voice, so as not to awaken Noara from her hypnosis.
"Hold the seed close to your chest." Mila-Roi gave the first command.
Noara, looking into the void, brought the hand holding the seed of the Primordial Flower to her chest. She had obeyed as if she herself had been compelled to do it.
"Now close your eyes and try to feel the pulse of this seed you hold in your hand directly in your heart." Mila-Roi's second command was more specific, but the adept seemed to understand it perfectly.
Noara closed her eyes, and all she could think about was the seed she held—such was the force of her hypnosis. And perhaps that was why the mistress had chosen to do it this way; she didn't want the adept with stellar-effect eyes to be distracted thinking about anything else. Noara's heart began to stir with the presence of that seed, which also began to vibrate in the adept's hand in a rhythmic pulse, the same rhythm as that heart that was so close. And the mistress seemed to notice that the pulses were synchronized. In that small, closed room, no other sounds were heard except those from inside it, and even a pulse so low could be heard with the right technique.
"In this synchronized pulse, I want you to ask with the voice of your heart towards the essence of this seed. Ask that it allow your entry into its domain and that once there, you entwine your will with its." Mila-Roi was deeply attentive to the adept's movements that would follow; she had in mind that this would be a crucial moment of this connection.
With her eyes tightly closed, the adept felt her heart so close to that subtly white seed, and with her heart, she made as if to touch the essence of the seed. There was no physically visible reaction that indicated what followed, but a special vital energy emanated from the seed and came to touch Noara's heart directly, making her see within herself a small altar hidden beneath deep roots that belonged to a tree so gigantic that Noara couldn't see its top. And on that altar, in a grotto by the edge of a water table that more resembled a river below those various roots, there was a flower that floated, rocking itself in what seemed an eternal dreaming. The adept felt that this was the original Primordial Flower of Sleep.
Within that vision, Noara found herself in a relatively awake state; she was aware of herself, but the command given by the mistress persisted in her core as if absolute. The adept then approached the Primordial Flower and wanted to embrace it but didn't know how. So she touched one of her hands to her chest and the other to the flower, as if wanting to make a bridge between her heart and that mysterious flower. This had a result, for the flower reacted to her touch and seemed to understand her intention, leaping from its altar towards Noara's chest.
At the moment of contact, a strong wave of heat took over the adept, and her physical body began to sweat intensely, her breathing becoming labored. This heat increased to the point where she felt as if she were burning alive. And the more the pain persisted, the more unbearable it seemed to become. Noara finally began to seriously think she was going to die. She became afraid and wanted to find a way out of that situation, but then she remembered everything that was at stake and the reason she was there. So instead of fearing that pain, she wanted to embrace it, open her heart to the essence of that flower, show that her intentions were the best possible. And the pain that she had previously resisted began to dissipate gradually. It was as if the pain had only persisted because it hadn't been allowed to reach where it needed to go on its path within the adept due to her initial resistance. With the end of this ordeal, the Primordial Flower emerged from within Noara, leaving a soft imprint of its petals exactly where the adept's heart was located. With this, the adept felt that she had become one with this Primordial Flower, capable of manipulating its essence if she so wished.
"Now I want you to return to me at the snap of these fingers." Mila-Roi sensed that the mission had been concluded without major risks, and so she snapped her slender fingers with a brief and discreet snap.
Noara awoke suddenly, still panting, as if she had been submerged for too long. But at the same time, she began to show a relieved and mysteriously serene countenance. It was visible that her stellar-effect eyes were shining much more than usual, and they did so for a brief moment until the adept closed them, took a deep breath, and opened them again.
Mila-Roi observed her for a brief moment before saying anything; she wanted to make sure the adept was truly recovered from her internal journey. When she finally felt it was appropriate, she began her inquiry.
"And so, my dear, I know it couldn't have been that easy, but… did you manage to create the bond we need with the Primordial Flower of Sleep?"
Noara preferred to pull her cloak to reveal the design imprinted on her chest to the mistress instead of simply answering yes or no. The adept didn't even question whether what had happened in her vision had affected her physical body; she vividly felt that it had.
Mila-Roi showed enormous satisfaction upon verifying that mystical tattoo. She knew they had just completed another important step in the plan they had elaborated to resolve this great crisis they were going through. But it was still early to celebrate; much remained to be done.
"Excellent, my dear Noara! But it's still early to feel so at ease, for you still need to learn how to handle this essence that is now linked to you, and that is what we will do for the rest of these 7 days so that we can finally return to the other Mages. I feel it will be enough time for you to practice your symbiosis with this essence, thus stimulating the intertwining of both your wills. For even when this stage is properly concluded, the creation of this onirin will still be more difficult than normal, because it is not so easy to control someone's dreams, especially someone like Irtimox, who was once a Mage-King. But come, it is also good for you to rest a bit now, so let's get out of here." Mistress Mila then stood up and helped Noara to her feet as well, for the adept still seemed a bit fragile from the transcendent experience she had undergone.
Finally, the vision reflected by the chalice ceased, its liquid becoming cloudy once more. And as if it had sensed that its use had come to an end, it returned to its original form of an onirin, like a small silver ball, in Santimar's hand.
The adept with golden eyes got ready to sleep and began to reflect as he lay on that simple bed, yet so prestigious, which made him think that often the value of something came first from who had used it before. He pondered the training he had had so far and compared it with the others. He concluded that each seemed to have a different method, a different calling, but all had the same purpose: to protect Tabulém and the rest of the world from the impending threat. He thought of Noara in particular, with even greater affection than before. So family was important to her; that was a good sign, for Santimar also thought the same and had liked the way Noara thought about dealing with a possible supernatural longevity in the future. Moreover, he felt that her capacity to surrender for what she believed in was very inspiring. For all this, he could hardly wait to see her again.
Then Santimar resolved to direct his attention to what had moved him the most that day, something he simply could not set aside. Even while watching Noara and Lacendir, or when talking with Mirir and Vezad, he could not help but feel it pulsating within him: the principle of the miracle. After all, what power was this? Santimar was certain of the infinite potency of this sacred energy, but he still did not know how to handle it with clarity, or rather, he did not know if he deserved to use such power. But he could not deny that it had been offered to him directly by a being of light right before his eyes, and deep down he understood that refusing a gift would be worse than never having it. But perhaps it was the fear of making a mistake when using such power. He had to find a way to resolve this dilemma; it was the theme he set himself to meditate on for a while.
The darkness of night had long since engulfed that small room, and Santimar considered that it was indeed better to sleep, for he still had more training in the morning with Mage Mirir, and it seemed that Vezad himself would also teach him something new. He even felt like conjecturing what the next day had in store for him, but he knew the best thing to do now was to rest as much as possible. There was a understandable restlessness in the air, for even with all the city's defenses on alert, Santimar felt that no one knew for sure how safe they were, or for how long. So he found himself obliged to take any opportunity to recover his own energies while he could.
Lying on the bed as he was, he finally closed his eyes and tried to surrender to the sleep that was overcoming his tired body. He fell into a deep sleep not long after that, and before he knew it, he was dreaming. But it didn't seem like a dream very different from the usual; Santimar didn't always have lucid dreams, and this time he only saw flashes of images here and there while most of the time his focus was on the relaxation and revitalization he felt while sleeping. But one singular image marked this dream of his: a distant figure on a trail unknown to him in an arid landscape that also didn't seem to belong to his world, for he recognized in the sky the absence of any of its moons. And this figure seemed to be waiting for him to reach it. But that was all this sleep brought him before he woke up at the dawn of his Sun—that and a slight smell of some fresh herb, which he found peculiar, since dreams usually don't emit smells.
A knock on his door was heard. Santimar deduced it was Mirir-Roi, which made the adept get out of bed and get ready to leave. He stretched a bit, and when he finally opened the door, there was Mage Mirir as he had imagined.
"Good morning, noble Santimar. I hope your dreams were peaceful, and even revealing. First of all, I ask that you give me Vezad's onirin, for I have been tasked with guarding it for now." Mirir-Roi then extended his hand, awaiting the magical artifact with a smile on his face.
"Good morning, Mage. Here it is. I take the opportunity to say that it was fascinating to have the opportunity to use this artifact on my own. I confess I still haven't gotten used to the immense versatility of this item; it is truly impressive." Santimar had barely handed the onirin to Mirir-Roi and already seemed to miss the artifact.
"Indeed, I still remember how I was just like you when using the onirins for the first time. They are virtually capable of almost anything that does not break the barriers of reality and the rules of the absolute. And for the most complex purposes, we are capable of creating even more specific onirins—a great legacy of the glorious Tir'Zuno. But anyway, here, have a small breakfast." After putting the onirin in his pocket, Mirir-Roi tossed Santimar a small bag with three balls of dough made with a grain resembling wheat. They were filled and fortifying—a treat he had gotten from the Mage cook in the cafeteria the previous day. "First of all, I ask that you eat one of these right away; you'll feel strong as an ox. And don't take it the wrong way, but you'll need every bit of that strength for the training I have in mind for us today."
Santimar took seriously what the Mage said. He took one of the balls from the cloth bag and ate it. Quickly, he felt his body completely strengthened; he felt capable of breaking the wall beside him with a simple punch!
"Wow! It would be good to always have one of these little cakes around! What are they called?" Santimar was immediately excited.
"Good, aren't they? They're called ukira cakes, but try to save them, as some of the ingredients are somewhat rare." Mage Mirir seemed to want to eat them too but tried to heed his own advice. "Let's go down then; we'll use the portal again, but this time we'll go to a different place."
Hearing this, Santimar decided to store the other two remaining cakes inside his cloak and followed his Mage down the steps. He still wasn't entirely sure what his training with Mage Mirir would entail, but he already suspected it would be combat improvement, which excited him, especially after witnessing his friend Lacendir's training.
When they passed the floor of the balconies, Santimar saw that it was empty. He imagined that the Mage-King might still be sleeping, but thinking again, he found that unlikely. So he decided to consult his present Mage.
"I see that Vezad Dhir-Roi is not here; did he leave, Mage?" In Santimar's head, that was the only option, but what he really wanted to know was where he might have gone.
"It seems that Emerek Dhir-Roi had something urgent to tell him, something he preferred to avoid saying through telepathy. But try to focus on your training, for whatever it is, you are not yet properly prepared to deal with it, even with the divine blessing that resurrected you in that shadowy plane." Mirir-Roi continued descending the steps without even looking back as he answered the adept, and after a few more steps, he added, "After all… it is not advisable to abuse sacred gifts, as they can be taken from us as quickly as they are offered…"
"So you already know about the principle of the miracle that was offered to me, Mage?" Santimar knew of the Mage's ability to discover things through indirect means, but he also sensed that the experience he had had in that dimension was completely restricted to him, so he was a bit surprised by Mirir's words.
"Actually, it was a deduction. After all, no one would have apparently resurrected by divine intervention as happened with you, much less in possession of that clearly divine power you used to annihilate a complete infernal as if it were absolutely nothing…" Mirir did not fail to demonstrate his admiration for what had occurred, but he had his observations to make regardless. "But I also noticed that you were not fully aware of this power or how you came to activate it, for back in the Mages' hall, your confusion about what you had just experienced was visible."
"During the training with Mistress Zaya-Roi, I came into contact with a figure shrouded in light. I couldn't see its face, but I felt in its presence an endless goodness, so it was indisputable that its light was not false. And this being of light must have had something to do with my resurrection when I was in the shadowy plane, for it entrusted me with the very principle of the miracle, which now makes me feel capable of activating that same power in a much broader way than I was able to envision to defeat that infernal creature—albeit in a limited way, since I can only use it three times a day. But you are right, Mage. If I dare to merely rely on a gift that was certainly lent to me, I would not be deserving of it even in its smallest part, let alone in its entirety." Santimar was still getting used to that power, but he already seemed to have understood what he should about its price and how assiduous its demand would be.
Mirir-Roi stopped for a moment from descending the steps upon hearing the adept's complete account. His features showed that he had reached a conclusion he had been waiting for the remaining pieces of for some time—pieces that, it seemed, had finally been laid out for him at that very moment by Santimar.
"Now I understand why Zaya-Roi decided it was up to you to tell what happened in the Garden of Enchanted Sighs. The honor was yours after all, just as the responsibility will be yours… Santimar, I must inform you of what I am about to say. With this principle at your disposal, you are now probably the most powerful being in all of Ewahara. But it is understandable that you have not yet adjusted to this reality, so I see I will have to readapt our training a bit…" Mirir-Roi expressed this time through the features of his countenance that he was trying to elaborate a new training plan in his mind while concluding other internalized questions. "So you can use the words of power three times a day… I imagine it's a day here in Ewahara, correct?"
"Yes, Mirir, that's exactly what the figure of light told me." Santimar was on standby while waiting for the Mage to say something more.
"And no other addendum was mentioned regarding that?"
"Actually, yes. I was told that certain words of power may have their effect extended for as long as necessary to fulfill their intention, while I cannot use words of power to reverse something that happened on a previous day. It must be so that the rules of my power don't conflict…"
"I see; that is a really interesting detail, crucial even. In that case, I think there will be no problems with us training, for I don't believe you would waste a word of power used for your readiness and aptitude in combat." Mirir seemed satisfied regarding that issue, so he proceeded to comment on another detail he deemed important to mention. "It was already visible to all who witnessed that the divine had indeed saved you when you were in the shadowy plane. But to allow you yourself to use this power freely, even with its limitations… is certainly a sign. We have much to do so that you do not weaken the proper tuning with this glorious principle. I imagine this type of power has within itself the capacity to guide you so that you do not get lost in deviations and unregulated fancies, but it would be a pity if fear or doubt managed to overshadow your will. For even with all the guides around you, the final word within you will always be your own. So I ask that you understand… The Celestial Court has deposited immense trust in you, Santimar, so you must indeed make it worthwhile."
"That is also what I feel, Mage Mirir, and may your counsel remain in my core. Avihém." Santimar recognized in the Mage's apprehensions his own. Everyone seemed to understand the weight of the responsibility behind such a gift.
The two then resumed descending the steps towards the circular portal room. When they were already on the floor above the indicated one, Mirir-Roi began to make comments again.
"Perhaps Vezad was already aware of your situation, which would explain his sudden movement even to me. And if that really means we will have to deal with Kardurok… then I fear there will be many martyrs." For a moment, Mirir-Roi thought of Mila-Roi with an apprehension that was not normal for him, but he used this difficulty to strengthen his spirit, for in every adversity lies the opportunity for that. "Even if that is the case, there is no one greater than God, and as long as we remain in His grace, there will be hope."
Mage and disciple arrived on the portal floor almost in sync with this last speech of Mirir-Roi. And as soon as they entered the room, the Mage positioned himself in front of the portal, in the same way Zaya-Roi had done previously. But this time they would go to a different place, so it was likely that he would recite something different—that's what Santimar pondered. And behold, Mage Mirir indeed began to evoke another chant.
"Away from curious eyes, towards the gracious grounds, that hovers in silence, enduring from what remains of the past, before the consecrated pillar."
The portal then reacted with a purple coloration, opening to a space that was not perceptible as to what it was, for it was too dark to see its surroundings from the portal room side in the Tower of Tir'Zuno. When Mirir and Santimar finally entered that space, the adept could truly witness what that place was like.
He couldn't process how it was possible, but it was the ruins of a giant temple floating in space. At a distance he couldn't measure, he could see an entire galaxy with meticulous details. And in the center of these floating ruins was a pillar of white stone completely intact, unlike the rubble around it. It still had simple vegetation around it, with white and yellow flowers.
"These are the remnants of a temple from distant eras, which was made immaculate by the divine presence of this pillar erected by a saint of a forgotten past who, as far as is known, belonged to this very temple. And when the world where this temple was located was completely ruined by a devastating war, followed by a complete cataclysm that made the planet collapse from the inside out entirely, almost everything around the pillar was spared by the very miraculous force that emanated from it. And this piece of land continued to hover where its world of origin once was until this day. We usually call this living stone relic the Pillar of Miracle. And as you can feel, even though we are present in nothing more than this piece of land, with the pillar as its center and some ruins around it, we are capable of breathing normally—such is the strength of this miracle." Mirir-Roi noticed Santimar's marvel while explaining where they were, but he also felt the same wonder upon entering that space, no matter how many times he had been there.
"What a fascinating place! And this pillar… it truly exudes holiness. So I'm not surprised by its capacity to sustain this terrain with conditions for us to be present here after what has been clarified." With the principle of the miracle permeating his being, Santimar seemed to identify more easily what was holy, for it resonated directly within him. "Now, if I may ask, Mage, how will we train on this sacred ground?"
"Our initial training will not be combat; in fact, we will meditate more than act while we are here. And we will do so alternately for three days. This may seem like a waste of our scarce time, but I ask that you understand: more important than being able to fight is having a just reason for it. For it is the very reason that gives us not only the motivation to fight without hesitation but also the capacity to win with propriety. And what we understand as impetus and animation in their essence are provoked by the spirit, which in turn rises according to the truth in its purest form, understood within us when we guide ourselves towards the Holy Spirit Himself." Mirir-Roi seemed more inspired than usual to convey this message, for it was of great importance to him that Santimar truly grasp the meaning of what he wanted to convey.
"I understand, Mage. There is no strength without conviction, no conviction without truth. I understand perfectly." Santimar wanted first and foremost to prove that he was in sync with what was being said to him, which was confirmed by the master, so he continued. "But then how will you see that I agree with this premise here where we are?"
"Very simple, Santimar. While we talk, we will use a special board game where your pieces will react to the coherence, conviction, and real intention behind our words and thoughts." Mirir-Roi seemed excited to have to play this mysterious game. "And I chose this place due to its vast meekness and free inspiration, which will help us both. For this game would not be fair if I did not also take it seriously, and I confess I have always liked playing it. It's called Máspòn, by the way."
Having said that, the Mage approached the pillar that emanated a sanctified energy and threw a cloth with various arcane patterns on the ground. He took his onirin and began the enchantment.
"Game that makes itself fortuitous, mirror here our intuitions."
His onirin then manifested and after several spins around itself created the form of a silver board that settled right in the middle of that cloth spread on the ground in front of the holy pillar made of white stone. The board did not yet have any pieces; the pattern of its surface resembled a spider's web, and below it was observed a small box whose bottom was not visible, located on each side where a player would be.
Mirir-Roi then asked Santimar to sit at one end of the cloth, and he sat at the other. He placed a small hourglass on the lateral edge of the board and adjusted himself to a more comfortable position, then said.
"Well then, the rules of this game are quite simple, yet at the same time they will require time and attention to master. And your objective is to win just one match. As I said before, this game responds to our mental stimuli, and that's why it works better if we involve questions and answers during the game to stimulate the reaction of the pieces and even affect the outcome of the game. Initially, we will each receive one piece until we have received twelve pieces in total. And as you can see, the pattern of the board looks like a perfect spider web with eight points, and each of its intersections is a point where you can place your piece. The piece that eventually is next to yours can be knocked down by passing over it. And our final objective is that only our pieces remain on the board." Mirir then raised his eyebrow with an alert expression. "But I must warn you that if you cannot be sincere with yourself while we talk, even if you are not aware of it, the pieces will know and will end up reacting in a way contrary to what you might want, perhaps even not responding at all or dissolving from the board."
"I think I'm beginning to understand, Mage, and it does seem interesting. And what happens if I hesitate while playing?" Santimar was quick to demonstrate interest in all the game's rules.
"Nothing would happen; the game itself would stop, wouldn't it? But to avoid delays greater than those we can have, this hourglass will determine the time each one has to play while we dialogue. But it will work out, for the time it gives us is enough to think well about what we will say next." Mirir-Roi already showed he wanted to start the game. "Anyway, I think it's better we start playing so that you understand in practice how it works; I've always preferred it that way."
"So be it, Mage Mirir; I think I feel prepared to start anyway." By this time, Santimar was already seated on the other side while listening to the Mage briefly explain how the game worked.
"Certainly, you will be, therefore, the first to play, and I will begin with the questions. It is natural that you also ask me whatever you wish, for this will be a conversation, not an interrogation." Mirir-Roi became reflective for a moment; he couldn't help but ponder what the adept would ask him.
The Mage then turned the hourglass and placed it back in its original location. He thought and waited a bit before asking his question, which was in a way something Santimar already expected him to ask, so it could be said that the adept's answer was already on the tip of his tongue.
"So let's start with what you must imagine should be the first question. After all, Santimar, what genuinely and primarily motivates you to fight?" Mirir then observed the adept with an intent expression.
Even while Santimar elaborated his answer mentally, his first piece had already come out of the small box on his side of the board, which indicated that the game didn't need to hear his answer properly, for only his sincere intention was already captured by the magical artifact now in the form of a board. Santimar then picked up his piece while finishing his thoughts and observed it for a moment. It seemed made of white ivory but had a woody tone at the same time. Finally, he placed it on one of the intersections of the board as he began his answer.
"I fight above all for whatever is sacred, with life itself given to us by God being a consequence of this same divine concept, as if it were His emanation. It is just, then, that we all have an irrevocable right to it, even before we become aware of when we finally become living beings, still under construction in the core of our mothers. So, consequently, I also fight for life." Santimar then fell silent, meditating on what he himself had just said.
The adept's pieces did not react adversely to his answer, proving his honesty. And so the game flowed slowly as they absorbed what had been said and elaborated on what would be said next. During this short time, no new questions were asked, and they only concentrated on playing. But it was expected that the conversation between the two would gain more attention as the game progressed.
"Your first answer was graciously appropriate, as expected. But I ask that you tell me: are all lives capable of affirming the same value before you, Santimar?" Mirir-Roi wanted to bring the initial topic back, for he felt there was more to be explored regarding the intrinsic value of each one.
At the moment of the question, Santimar felt the piece he had in his hand tremble suddenly. There was, therefore, something that was not so clear within him regarding such a question. Even so, he spoke as he thought he should.
"I would like to say yes, and that is probably the case in principle, when all lives are pure, in the innocence of their conception. But as we make our decisions in life, we move away from or closer to God, and that would be the main premise to measure someone's value." The adept then implied that he had concluded his reasoning.
The answer seemed good enough, but his piece did not seem to fully agree, for when the adept played it in one direction, the piece itself went in the opposite direction, making it easier for the Mage to knock it down shortly after, thus winning the first match.
"But how is that? I know I spoke the truth!" Santimar was perplexed for a moment, scouring his own mind in search of some carelessness in his reasoning.
"I believe so, noble adept, only it seems that it was not the whole truth, was it? Wouldn't your own affectivity towards others also be an important point in this valuation? By the way, I advise you to take the opportunity to well complement this answer of yours, or your next moves will also continue to react contrary to your decisions." Mirir wanted with this addendum that the adept be as integral as possible in his answers, and he soon started a new game to take advantage of the flow of the conversation.
"Indeed…" Santimar then stopped for a bit to think, and finally said when his hourglass was already halfway. "Even if our approach to God is the first measure to evaluate our fundamental value, our bond with others in our life story ends up influencing the measurement we have of this same value. For the affective bonds we create end up justifying our own history before God. So in a way, we owe part of the meaning of our lives as we know it to those who passed through us just as we passed through them—even though we owe all this experience to God who allows it to happen, and all the rest, from beginning to end, in first and last place."
The game seemed to finally start flowing accordingly, even though Santimar became more cautious with his answers.
"Beautiful words, but what does that mean in the end, Santimar? Let's put it this way: if you had to choose between God and your loved ones, what would it be?" Mirir-Roi decided that Santimar would have to be as direct as possible to convince him of his conviction.
Santimar again stopped playing. He didn't want to force an answer that signaled false virtues, and at the same time, he didn't want to deceive himself with thoughtless coldness. So he silently asked for inspiration and continued.
"It would be a mistake to put anything in front of God, since everything we experience that brings us real happiness was above all by His permission and creation. We should therefore appreciate more the tree that gives us the fruit than the fruit itself, no matter how much we love that fruit… Isn't that how it should be, Mage?" Santimar took the opportunity to finally start asking questions as had been suggested to him by the same.
"Certainly, but often it is easier said than done. Love is a pact to us, a pact stronger than blood, and perhaps only God Himself would be truly capable of surpassing such a colossal force of nature. Miracles indeed move mountains, but wouldn't it be for love that we seek the miracle?" One of Mirir's pieces swayed but ultimately remained in its place. It seemed the Mage still had reservations on this topic after all, even if minor.
"But would this love be any kind of love? For only a love that has a bond with God would be capable of touching His power." Santimar wanted to take advantage of this reservation, both because he wanted to win and because he wanted to understand more about how Mirir-Roi thought about this, which could even serve for him and Noara.
"You are right, Santimar. As it must be, it is necessary to discern what love we are talking about when dealing with the divine presence that may resonate in it. For the more worldly the love, the less capable it would be of satisfying the demands of a miracle." Mirir-Roi thought a bit about how his answer might influence the adept's future view on the meaning of love, but he felt secure that it would be for the best.
"Then, Mage, with all due respect to your private life, but if Mila-Roi asked you to abandon your duties in the Order to live in peace in some distant place, would you do it?" Santimar wanted to avoid asking such a question, but he couldn't set aside something he would really like to know, in case he found himself in a situation where such a decision became necessary in his own private life. However much it was a subject the adept wasn't sure he had the right to discuss with Mirir-Roi, being just the two of them there, in such a sanctified space so far from everything and everyone, he didn't think it would be a problem to talk about it.
Faced with such a specific question, Mirir-Roi stopped playing for a moment. He hadn't expected this question; he was surprised that Santimar knew so much about the two of them. He soon gathered that he had witnessed a conversation on the subject between Mila-Roi and Noara while observing the adept's training, which made him even a bit curious about how that conversation had gone. But at the same time, he thought it was inevitable to touch on the subject when they spoke of love. The Mage turned his face towards the stone pillar and at length enjoyed tender memories he had with Mistress Mila during times of yore and the promises that were made when all this would be over.
"I am sure my dear Mila-Roi thinks like me in this sense, Santimar: that what we do is more than just our job, and what is at stake would affect even our private lives. Now, if there were no imminent danger where our own actions were vital to contribute to a victory over the forces of evil, then I believe yes… I would leave everything for her." Mirir-Roi's pieces trembled again, but they still responded to his command.
"But if you had to choose between your duty and your love, what would your choice be?" Santimar did not seem willing to let Mirir-Roi escape his question with safer placements.
Behold, one of Mirir's pieces finally ignored his command, leaving Santimar ahead in the game. But there were still a few moves left to determine his victory.
"I would like to say that my love is my duty, or that my duty is my love, but it is not always that simple. So I confess I would not know how to answer until such a decision was forced upon me." Then Mirir-Roi returned to asking questions. "And speaking of duties, how decided do you feel regarding your own duties towards the Order?"
"As long as they are in accordance with what I feel to be the truth, then yes—which I have no doubt has always been the case." This time it was Santimar who chose the safer route for his answer.
"Very well, but what if one day the Order tasked you with a mission you deemed premature or even treacherous? Would you still do it?" Mirir-Roi seemed to be applying the same strategy Santimar had used a short while ago with his questions, and it seemed to take effect, for the adept hesitated.
Santimar perceived where Mirir wanted to go with his reasoning, and indeed he lacked greater clarity in that determined circumstance. Even so, he resolved to risk an answer that might be up to par so as not to lose his advantage in the game that had already lasted a good while, even if the adept was not capable of knowing how many cycles had passed while they were in that sacrosanct place.
"In the same way that our intrinsic value passes first through God, so does the sieve of our decisions. For in the end, I would be more afraid of disobeying a divine commandment than a human order. And when I say divine commandment, I refer to what resonates in the deepest point within our hearts and our souls, and as subtly as the vibrational reverberation of a dewdrop falling from a small leaf into an untouched lake deep within a great forest. Our glorious Order of Yatar is unequivocal by the nature of its basal dictates, but cases like Irtimox's alert us that not everything is always in order, even within the Order. So if I were faced with a mission that would bring darkness within me or to any other who proved innocent, I would not do it, even if it resulted in my probable expulsion from the Order or worse." Santimar finished his answer in a decisive tone.
The adept's pieces remained stable, and upon noticing this, Mirir-Roi was satisfied. Certainly, it was not easy to admit to a Mage of the Order that he would disobey it in speculative conflicting cases, but Mirir himself knew he would do the same in the adept's place.
With that, the game proceeded to what was already near the end, and Santimar managed to win this match. As a result, Mirir-Roi decided to stop the game so they could breathe a bit without further tensions.
"Santimar, I am sure you will be a great Mage one day, for I feel you are indeed on the right path. Your conviction is appropriate; all that remains is to strengthen your spirit so that it does not corrode with time." Mirir made as if to meditate a bit while eating some pieces of dried meat and fresh nuts to accompany, implying that this stage of the special training had been completed for the time being.
Santimar took the opportunity to get up and went for a short walk around that remote area that still inspired admiration in him. He had already been to places he knew were sacred, but each had its own peculiarities, and this floating terrain was no exception. It might be small in size, but it was immense in purity. Its meekness seemed to easily ward off any evil speaking or malicious intent from its area, which made Santimar fully trust that nothing bad could reach them there. Perhaps that was why Mirir-Roi had chosen this place: so they could train without distractions.
After half a cycle of meditation, Mage Mirir then stood up and said, "Come, Santimar, let's do a bit of physical training now, for I didn't ask you to eat an ukira cake just to go for walks. And at this moment, it would be interesting for you to train both your balance and your endurance. For this, I will transform my onirin again."
Thus, Mirir made a slight movement of his hand, with a snap of his fingers, which made the onirin revert from the board form to its original form. He positioned himself a bit farther from the whitened obelisk. This time, he took his small book of Tir'Zuno from one of his pockets, for he would use a chant he did not have memorized, as he had rarely intoned it in his life. And so he began to intone this discreet chant.
"The swing consumes you, on the scale that vanishes."
This time, the onirin began to transform into a metallic structure that resembled some kind of gymnastics apparatus. It had a main rod with its upper end pointed upwards, and around it, two arches with weights in the shape of karturas that seemed capable of spinning in both directions around the main rod. Karturas were almost giant animals that lived in the savannas of the Kingdom of Onat. They resembled elephants, but instead of long trunks and large ears, they had large rigid foreheads and several pairs of horns, besides being more muscular than flabby.
"Very well, Santimar, your next goal may seem quite arduous, but with the help of the ukira cake, you will hardly feel anything. I want you to stand on top of this device, which is called a Pesúr. I will show you the position you must take." Mirir-Roi then took off his cloak and the bags from his belt, remaining only with his tunic that was seen underneath the cloak. With a single leap, he reached the top of the pesúr and with only one hand stood upside down.
Balancing his body on top of the device, soon the weights in the shape of karturas began to spin with the intention of countering the balance that Mirir strove to maintain in an attempt to make him lose that balance. The Mage remained persistent in keeping his balance despite the opposing forces for a few moments before jumping back to the ground. He recovered his breath a bit, then spoke.
"That was a bit tiring, but you, Santimar, will have the goal of staying in that position for the duration of five cycles." Mirir-Roi paused to see Santimar's reaction to his mission, and the adept seemed to feel faced with a considerable challenge. "I must remind you that you are not to use any words of power; the intention here is to improve your own balance and stamina."
"Alright, Mage, but how will I know when we've reached the next day? I can't measure the passage of time here." Santimar was already getting ready to use the pesúr, just as the Mage had also taken off his cloak and left it folded by the side of the stone pillar. "And what happens if I fall from up there?"
"I could have used an hourglass again as a measurement, but it will be more interesting if you don't know how much time is left, for you can then focus all your attention on staying firm in your goal, which is what matters most in this exercise. And as you might already imagine, if you lose your balance, you will have to start from zero." Mirir-Roi certainly did not want to be in Santimar's place during this training, but he knew it would help him immensely to be as prepared as possible for the dangers that were certainly already being orchestrated against them. "But enough questions; time for more training. Rest assured that I will tell you when the five cycles are over. Until then, focus with all your strength on maintaining your balance."
So saying, Mirir nodded his head, at which Santimar jumped at once towards the pesúr. However, he could not reach the top with the same ease as Mirir, and the weights in the shape of karturas did not let him climb easily. But after an initial effort that he barely felt with the help of the effect of the ukira cakes, he finally managed to reach the top. Only, as soon as he positioned himself upside down, supporting himself with only one arm on the tip of the main rod of the device, the weights spun abruptly and knocked him down shortly after.
"Don't think it will be easy just because you are strengthened by the effect of the cake at the moment, Santimar. Your balance still depends entirely on yourself. And by the way, I consider it opportune to alert you that the effect of the cake will not last more than nine cycles. And considering that about three cycles of the violet moon have already passed, you only have six more cycles to take advantage of this fortifying effect and assimilate what you can to later use your own strength without additions." Mirir spoke while circling the pesúr slowly, while the adept had already climbed up again. He managed to stay on top for a while longer but fell again not long after.
A full cycle passed while Santimar tried to balance on top of the pesúr. Physical fatigue still did not reach him due to the effects of the ukira cake, but his frustration seemed to accumulate, which made the adept stop for a bit and reconsider his strategy. If the intention of the weights in the shape of karturas was to undermine attempts to balance on the rod by forcing greater weight in the direction where the balance would break, Santimar judged that he should then use not only his balance but also his strength to resist the jolts caused by the weights—a truly arduous task, but one that would guarantee him an advantageous capacity.
After a few more attempts, the adept with golden eyes finally managed to maintain his balance on top of the pesúr. But it was from this moment that his greater challenge would begin: he would have to stay on the rod in that position, which in itself demanded considerable effort, for five uninterrupted cycles, which translated to ten hours. However, complaining would not help, and giving in to discouragement would only facilitate his fall. So Santimar remained as focused as possible while balancing against the will of the weights that circled furiously and abruptly around him.
And for a few cycles, Santimar managed to hold on. But when he was about to reach the fourth cycle, he felt mentally fatigued, which distracted him for an infinitesimal moment—enough to make him lose his balance and fall from the pesúr. The adept was a bit disappointed with himself for failing after coming so far, even though he didn't know exactly how much time had passed in that last attempt. He could conjecture that he had almost made it. Santimar quickly dusted off his clothes and went back to balancing on the device. At that moment, Mage Mirir approached.
"Don't be discouraged, Santimar; you almost reached four cycles. A bit more and you would have made it. But remember: a very rigid object on an unstable surface is soon thrown far with the consequence of each impact it suffers. Malleability is the key, including of your focus." Mirir-Roi took the opportunity to stretch a bit while passing on his advice.
Santimar, even focused on the balance he maintained on the rod, paid attention to what was said to him. And indeed, his focus was too fixed, and because of that, he was spending more energy than needed on it. He then tried to become one with the swing of the pesúr, like a tree branch that sways with the strong wind so as not to break by creating more resistance than it should, reacting spontaneously only to the impulses that came its way, leaving the mind calm regarding the rest.
Considering what Mirir had said, only two cycles remained for Santimar under the effect of the ukira cake, and he would have to maintain his balance on the pesúr for five cycles. So the last three cycles would have to be done on his own, without the aid of extra fortifiers. But the adept was confident that he could do it, for all the time he had spent balancing, he had managed to assimilate much of what he needed to do and judged that his own natural strength would suffice, for the most challenging was to maintain the balance in harmony, and even this he was already managing to decipher the secret.
During almost all this interval of time, Mirir-Roi was on the edges of that floating terrain, observing the shooting stars that passed by, adorning that magnanimous view. But upon perceiving that Santimar was nearing the end of his objective, he went to observe him more closely.
The adept persevered without major problems for four full cycles. However, upon reaching the last cycle, he felt it would be the longest of his life, for it was physical fatigue that began to affect him this time. But he did not let this affect him; he knew he had to finish on this last attempt, for he would not have the strength for a new endeavor. He then sought to compensate for his fatigue with a rhythmic breath, bringing to himself a relaxing sway. He reached a partial trance where he only moved his body when necessary, predicting the movements of the weights in the shape of karturas. And finally, he knew he had completed the fifth cycle when Mirir-Roi approached even closer and announced it to him in a celebratory tone.
"That's it, Santimar! Five cycles; you can relax now." Mirir-Roi made a slight bow while congratulating the adept. "You come out of this test stronger than you entered; be sure of that."
Santimar then did not delay in showing his exhaustion, throwing himself from the top of the pesúr straight to the ground. After landing, he avoided any extra effort, merely turning to lie on his back appropriately so that he could breathe better.
"That was some effort, huh? I could have gotten tired just from watching you all those cycles, but you did deserve a good rest. Let's first make ourselves more comfortable here." Mirir-Roi then snapped his fingers, and his onirin returned to him in its original form. It had been almost more than a day that they had been there, and the remainder of the second day and the third still remained for them to return to the Tower of Tir'Zuno through the portal that waited closed on the other side of that terrain that floated thanks to the miraculous pillar.
As he lay on the ground, Santimar could not even imagine what he would do in the coming days. And so tired was he that he already wanted to sleep right there on the ground. But he knew it would be discourteous, so he waited to see what Mirir would do next.
The Mage then threw his onirin into the sky and said in a chant that Santimar had heard before, when he passed through an arid region on one of his first missions accompanying Mage Aruk, when they stopped to refresh themselves.
"Crystalline water, allow me immersion, refresh my body to relieve my tension."
The onirin began to float in the air, generating a mist around it, then transforming into a small dark rain cloud. Only, it did not release water immediately; it seemed to await some command to do so.
Mage Mirir then took a second onirin from his pocket, the one he had retrieved from Santimar, and intoned the same chant he had used on top of Mount Korintai to create the tent that all the adepts at the time had used to rest with Mirir-Roi. Only this time, a smaller tent appeared, with enough space for two hammocks. The onirin really could identify the specifications of what was asked of it with ease.
The artificial cloud stayed outside the tent, far enough not to wet its surroundings. Then Mirir turned to Santimar and said.
"You can bathe first, for I know you want to go to sleep soon, and with reason. Know that to make the cloud release water, just stand under it. Meanwhile, I will arrange my things inside the tent." Mirir then lit his pipe and entered the tent, leaving Santimar with his privacy.
Very reluctantly, Santimar got up, took off his clothes, and went towards the cloud. As soon as he found himself under it, drops of water fell at a pleasant temperature, making him feel much better than a few moments before. So he ended up being thankful that he didn't sleep on the ground as he had felt like doing. After the brief bath, he took his cloak and put it over his body; the cloak also functioned as a towel, quickly drying the excess water on his body. Then the adept walked towards the tent in search of his hammock.
"You can bathe, Mage; I'm ready to sleep," said the Adept when he finally entered the tent.
"Ah, certainly; I'll be back soon." Mirir-Roi then left the tent for a moment. After a few minutes, he returned already with the other onirin in hand, and it could be noted that he was well refreshed.
Santimar was already lying down by this time and, due to fatigue, fell asleep almost instantly. It was such a deep sleep that he had no dreams. Several cycles passed, and without realizing how much he had slept, Santimar woke up as if out of nowhere. He observed the Mage's hammock and saw that it was empty. So he got up and went outside the tent. Arriving there, he noticed that Mirir-Roi was again observing the stars at the edge of that floating terrain. It was indeed a peaceful place. So Santimar went towards the Mage, who soon noticed his approach.
"Ah, I see you're awake, Santimar. Come, join me." Mirir-Roi was smoking his pipe, and the fragrance of his tobacco was pleasant to the senses but not to the point of intoxicating whoever smelled it.
The adept soon sat beside the Mage and began to observe the stars with him. It was a privileged view, with several galaxies visible to the naked eye. Shooting stars passed constantly, even comets.
"Marvelous, isn't it? God truly is the best of artists." Mirir filled his eyes as he spoke.
"Yes, Mage; I would truly never tire of witnessing His creation." Santimar began to remember all the wonders he had witnessed so far; he already felt eternally grateful for all of it.
"So… that means you saw Mila-Roi talking with the adept Noara about me?" Mirir demonstrated a certain embarrassment that was not at all common for him. "If it's not too much to ask, could you relay to me what you heard from her? I would be pleased to know. As I told you before, not everything that happens beyond where I am inserted am I capable of glimpsing from a distance, especially when it is of divine intention that a sincere conversation about what occurred be held."
"Of course, Mage; I will tell you what I can as I remember." Santimar then scoured his memory diligently; he wanted to be as helpful as possible with that request. "In summary, she seemed willing to start a family with you as soon as we manage to finish this situation involving Irtimox and his followers. She also let slip that you had not yet started a family because you feared your children would be pursued by your adversaries. So I must tell you that I promise to help protect yours, wherever I am in this world. But please, Mage, do not give up on your own lineage, which can be so gratifying for Ewahara."
Mirir-Roi continued to observe the stars after hearing the adept's account as he had requested. His heart beat stronger, and for a moment he felt truly capable of realizing what he most wished to see materialize for himself in material terms: a family. It was certain that he was already well over hundreds of years old, but not only did he have a youthful countenance despite his graying hair, he was also quite in shape. He even had an appearance that could be associated with the figures of Zeus or Poseidon in their Greek statues, all thanks to the effect of the longevity enchantment that was permitted to him.
"Your words comfort me, dear adept, or rather, friend Santimar." Mirir-Roi reached for Santimar's shoulder as he spoke. "Certainly, if it is God's will that we end this ordeal, I will dedicate myself to this dream that I have so postponed. Perhaps I really won't have another chance after all."
"I am happy to know that, Mage." Santimar smiled hopefully at Mirir. "I am sure we will emerge victorious from this challenge, and it won't be long in happening. It is a promise I keep in my heart, or rather, I should say it is a prayer."
"I admire your confidence, Santimar, but as usual, take care not to let your guard down, for caution and confidence must always walk together." Mirir-Roi then turned to his bag and searched for a curious item. It resembled a greenish marble but emanated a green pulsation within itself. "Ready for your last training here? I imagine you will be quick, for it will be a perception training, and I already know how good you are at that."
"Alright, but how much time exactly passed while I slept, Mage? I thought we would only train more on the third day." Santimar was visibly confused in this regard.
"But Santimar, we are already on the third day; you slept quite a bit to recover your stamina." Mirir-Roi gave a brief laugh, then continued with his gentle voice. "Your balance training was heavier than you imagine; perhaps the ukira cake didn't let you perceive that with total clarity."
"Ah… of course, yes, I must have slept a lot indeed. And my sleep was so deep that I didn't even notice how much I slept. But then, what should I do now?" Santimar did not want to prolong the subject too much so as not to give the impression that he was lost in the world; he always sought to exude clarity in his actions and words.
"It's alright, Santimar; it is indeed difficult to perceive how much time passes here, especially when we are sleeping. This is not a place where one should pay much attention to the passing of hours. In fact, I even suspect that the effects of the passage of time do not affect us here, despite the time count continuing normally." Mirir-Roi had already noticed from early on Santimar's inclination to always be sure of himself, which was good most of the time but could make him too rigid in some cases. He did so not to lose the security he felt. Mirir then answered his question. "As I said before, your last test here will be to enhance your perception. For what is the worth of the correct impetus and sufficient persistence if you are not equally capable of grasping what is necessary to make the right decision? And with that, we will conduct this test right here where we are located, on this threshold of what the stone pillar can still preserve."
The Mage then positioned that small greenish ball he was holding and simply threw it into the void of space with force. He waited a few moments and said.
"This little ball is now circling this floating terrain. Your mission is to locate it and hit it." Before the adept could ask how he would hit that little ball, Mage Mirir took from his pocket a well-designed slingshot with bindings made of a vine that seemed still alive from his bag tied to his waist. "Use this slingshot, and any of these pebbles on the ground will serve as ammunition to hit that ball floating around this sanctified ground. As soon as you hit it, it will return to my hand as I commanded it to. These small glass balls filled with lights resonating with their surroundings are known as Tactile Spheres."
Mirir spoke with such naturalness about what had to be done that Santimar judged that he thought it would be easy for the adept to complete such an undertaking. But that small glass sphere that now circled the sacred ground where they were had already disappeared into that vastness of space. His perception was good, but he certainly wasn't omniscient! However, Santimar knew that his Mage was not usually mistaken when analyzing his talents, so perhaps there was some way to see that small sphere. It was then that the adept considered, after spending two full cycles pondering, that the sphere might be tiny, but its route was constant. It might shine like a star of faint light, but it would always be passing in the same place. This, however, would not solve all the difficulty of seeing it, even if it helped considerably.
Santimar then began to expand his own field of vision to the largest possible range of stars in front of him without causing a blur greater than what would allow him to identify any movement that was too constant where he was observing. And when after a few more cycles he noticed nothing in the direction where he directed his field of vision, he moved on to observe another portion of that vastness in front of him, until he finally managed to perceive this tiny point that moved like a satellite, almost as imperceptible in the midst of that myriad of twinkling stars as a fine scratch on a windowpane in the dark. But upon fixing his vision where he managed to notice this scratch the first time, soon came the second time, and on the third, he managed not only to see the sphere clearly but also to measure the time it took to pass there at that point where he had finally fixed his gaze. This exercise took so long that Santimar no longer knew how much time had passed.
Now was the moment to hit the sphere using the slingshot the Mage had lent him. Santimar then had to measure the distance he was from the sphere by eye to decide where to aim. Several cycles had already passed since he began this last test, but his concentration was such that he had barely taken note of it. The adept tried to launch stones at the sphere, but he simply could not see the trajectory of the ones he launched, since they did not possess their own light like the sphere. So how would he calculate the distance of his shot towards the sphere he was trying to hit? And the answer came: Santimar polished the remaining stones he gathered to the point where they shone sufficiently, making it possible to see their trajectory up to a certain point—not too far, but enough to see that they were in the right direction. And after a few attempts shooting at the sphere, he managed to get a sense of its distance, especially because the slingshot had quite precise aiming. Soon, after a few more attempts, he finally hit the sphere. It made a mechanical spin upon being hit and then rushed towards Mirir-Roi.
"Very well, Santimar, very well indeed. The tests may have been contained to one day each, but they were enough to demonstrate that you are prepared as much as possible. I believe then that we can proceed to another location where you can make use of the words of power you now have access to without restrictions." Mirir motioned for Santimar to follow him towards the camp that was still standing. "Considering that even if we haven't tired much, this third day now approaches its end, so it is profitable that we stay here until tomorrow, and thus we can already make the transition to the other world where we will train for battle indeed, already properly disposed."
Santimar was surprised that so much time had already passed. But that said, the two returned to the camp, exchanged a few trivial ideas, ate the dried meat the Mage had brought with him, and went to sleep once more.