Chap 180: Village to Village
Back at Primus’s library, the millions of floating tabs hovered like suspended constellations, filling the vast space with a soft, humming energy. Both Aven and Engel moved among them with practiced ease, using sorcery to maneuver the tabs as though they were extensions of their own limbs.
Tee, however, could only take what they allowed her, since she had not yet grasped sorcery herself. The sight was overwhelming. An infinite array of information, knowledge encoded in these tabs, each flickering with the potential to reveal secrets of the Vergant world, or even the universe itself.
She felt a mixture of awe and frustration. There was so much she needed to learn, yet she hated the feeling of being spoonfed every step. She wanted to struggle, to earn her understanding through effort, not simply accept it from others.
“Isn’t there a way to access the tabs on my own?” she asked, her voice sharp with a blend of curiosity and impatience.
Aven glanced at her and then at Engel, his expression calm yet slightly amused. He had a special glove designed for Hana to manipulate the tabs without full mastery of sorcery, a device of ingenious design. Tee, however, had grown weary of hearing Hana’s name and chose not to ask more about it.
Tee already knew how to enter her own Verge. The next challenge, though, was far greater—learning to verge the planet itself. Vergants achieved this to fill their bodies with Ether, a source of energy Tee did not require, since she was a living source herself. Yet there were other reasons to connect with the planet in that way, and Aven and Engel were taking her to one of the most peaceful, secluded places on Earth to guide her through it.
The Primus library itself was a marvel of Vergant architecture. Teleportation stations were scattered throughout, primarily to access other libraries across the Vergant world. The elevator they used opened onto a brightly lit chamber that rose impossibly high and dipped dramatically low, filled with arches and suspended bridges that connected countless doors. Those arches and bridges shifted and moved, aligning themselves to guide travelers to precisely the location they sought. The space itself felt alive, responsive to the presence of those who entered it.
Aven guided them to the correct door, which opened to yet another library. That one was vast beyond imagination. The ceiling soared into the distance, displaying celestial lights and countless stars that seemed to twinkle with their own life. Along the corridors, Vergants moved gracefully, vines curling from their noses and decorating their bodies in intricate, almost ceremonial patterns. The sight was at once alien and beautiful.
Outside the library, the trio approached what the Vergants called a carriage. Tee could not help but stare, as it defied every expectation of transportation. It had no wheels, no hovering capability, no animals pulling it—only long, mechanical legs that lifted it and strode over obstacles, trees, and uneven terrain, moving almost like a giant spider.
Tee thought it looked absurd at first, yet the moment they moved beyond the towering walls and into the natural landscape, she realized the ingenuity of its design. The view was breathtaking, and her previous disbelief was replaced by awe.
Myrravale
Hidden deep within the folds of towering mountains lay Myrravale, a valley untouched by time. Travelers once followed winding, narrow paths through mist-laced forests, where silver waterfalls tumbled gracefully over jagged cliffs, spilling into hidden pools below. At its heart ran a bright, fast-flowing river, its voice a constant, soothing murmur that shielded the valley from the chaos of the world beyond.
The trio traveled on a small boat, steering over winding rivers that glimmered like glass under the soft light. Tee could only marvel at the surrounding landscape. Trees blossomed vibrantly along the banks, their petals shifting subtly with the light, and the river flowed with a serene, rhythmic pulse that felt almost alive. Golden sunlight filtered through the leaves, shifting and dancing as the branches swayed in a gentle breeze.
The air was cool and alive with vitality. Songs drifted from hidden courtyards, blending seamlessly with the river’s murmur and the occasional birdsong, until the valley itself seemed to hum in harmony.
Aven led Tee to a courtyard paved in smooth stone, dotted with evenly spaced trees whose branches swayed gently in the wind. Only a few Vergants moved about, their presence serene and unobtrusive.
The trio seated themselves together. Tee inhaled deeply, letting the quiet calm wash over her. The faint chirps of distant creatures and the gentle rustle of leaves created an almost musical backdrop, blending with the natural rhythm of the place.
“Focus,” Aven instructed. “In order to do the impossible, one must be willing to break free of reality.”
Tee had heard that saying from the Commander, and yet hearing it carried a weight she had not fully understood until that moment.
She drew the hood over her head, shuddering as darkness enveloped her under the starlit skies.
“How does one train the mind to believe there is no limit to reality, when one’s whole life has been governed by belief in limits?” Aven’s voice echoed in her mind. “The atom is considered the smallest matter—but truly, it is not.”
Tee’s breath caught. She believed him.
For modern-world men, verging meant discarding every preconception about what was possible. Everything they had learned might be wrong. The laws of their world might be incomplete. It was about opening the mind to a new perspective, a new reality.
Tee felt the difficulty keenly, knowing that even the most open-minded of modern-worlders struggled with that concept.
Verging with the planet differed from verging oneself. Tee concentrated on the impossible events that had defined her time at Primus. Fragments and monsters beyond reckoning, leaks from the interplanetary realm—the Veil, long considered myth, and the ability to create energy from her palm at will. Sorcery had even been performed in her stead. Aven had been right. Her understanding of reality was incomplete.
Engel and Aven, seated on the stone ground, were occupied with a subtle game of mental focus when they sensed it. Their gazes shifted to Tee, who glowed a brilliant white, radiating vast amounts of Ether energy.
“What is come upon Tee?” Engel whispered, awe and concern mingling in his voice.
“Do not disturb her,” Aven replied, equally hushed.
Time passed without words. Parts of Tee’s mind began to awaken. Regions once dull sparked with consciousness. Her head felt open, as though a constricting lid had been lifted. Darkness gave way to streams of light—endless white energy flowing and pulsing, denser in some areas, more diffuse in others. They moved constantly, weaving patterns beyond her comprehension.
As she focused on it, a wave of madness threatened to overtake her. When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself facing three small tents and two wooden chairs, upon which Engel and Aven sat.
“What’s going on?” Tee asked, rising only to collapse back to the ground. Her legs were cramped, throbbing painfully. How long had she remained immobilized?
“How did it go?” Aven asked, his tone measured but tinged with curiosity.
“Tee, thou art awake,” Engel said. “Thou hast been in it these three days nigh.”
Tee groaned. Three days in one position. Her legs burned with proof.
“Damn!” she yelled. “How did I not eat for three days?”
“It’s okay,” Aven said calmly. “We didn’t expect you to be able to verge the planet so soon—”
“I did it!” Tee blurted. “I verged with the planet.”
“What?” Aven muttered. “What did you see?”
Tee recounted everything in detail. Engel sat in awe. Aven, knowledgeable from her studies, already anticipated much—but he had not expected her to achieve such a feat. She needed to connect with the planet to begin any true form of sorcery.
Aven drew a small orb from his robe, glowing glyphs spiraling around it as it transformed into a cup. He filled it with water from a nearby river and handed it to Tee.
“Heat this cup of water.”
Tee recoiled slightly, shocked. Either Aven was overly optimistic or subtly doubting her abilities.
Sorcery relied on knowledge, yet as a Ether source, Tee could channel her own bioelectricity to heat the water. She directed energy from her body into her hand, then into the cup. Slowly, faint steam began to rise. All three gasped in astonishment.
Aven, still in disbelief, retrieved the cup carefully, throwing it aside after acknowledging its heat. He explained that Tee, as a Sentinel had a mind slightly opened from prior experiences. Her numerous fragment quests had conditioned her to accept that the impossible might indeed be possible.
He spoke of Hanah, a modern-world woman, fifty-six years old, who had struggled to verge since she was sixteen. Only recently had she begun to verge the planet—years of effort to reach Tee’s current stage.
Sometimes, seeing the impossible was not enough. One must witness oneself accomplishing it. As a Sentinel of the planet, Tee possessed that capacity.
Yet Tee’s mind was clouded with worry. She had heard nothing from her teammates. No alerts from her telecom in three days. She checked the flashlight—it worked. Kie had intruded into her mind, but she had flushed him out. She did not want to dwell on him.
She finally knew how to verge. That was what she needed to dwell on.
The sensation had once been terrifying, like being thrown into a current too strong to fight against, but with practice she could slip into it with only a thought. It was still strange—both liberating and dangerous—but it was hers. The knowledge steadied her. At least one thing in her scattered world finally obeyed her command.
It was time to focus on finding her cure. That goal beat like a pulse inside her chest, pushing her forward, though she understood there was much more to learn before she could even come close. Verging was a tool, not the answer.
Aven, patient as ever, stood at her side. He drew glyphs for her to memorize, lines and curves that shimmered faintly with power as his fingers traced them across parchment and sometimes into the air itself.
The glyphs were necessary to maneuver the library tabs, but Tee already sensed they went far beyond that. Glyphs encoded the rules of reality itself, condensed into shapes that could be learned, studied, and even mastered. She had a great deal to absorb, but her hunger for knowledge burned brighter than her fear.
The Runehall of Thaloris
Next, their journey took them to the best place to study syllabaries. The Runehall of Thaloris. It was a Vergant village unlike anything Tee had ever seen. Encircled by towering walls carved out of pale stone, the settlement seemed to grow from the earth itself. The architecture was strictly hierarchical, the outer rings occupied by modest stone dwellings and workshops, while the inner circle rose higher and grander until it culminated in the Runehall library at the center.
The library was a marvel. Its spire soared into the sky like an ancient tower, carved with runes that glowed faintly blue even in daylight. The air around it vibrated with power, and Tee could feel whispers—voices not of people, but of the glyphs themselves, etched into reality and murmuring their secrets to those who would listen. She shivered, half in awe and half in fear.
Glyphs
The library there specialized in glyphs. Tee was awed by shelves upon shelves of records, each one describing the recorded rules of reality.
Aven explained, “Glyphs appear when a living body manipulates reality, when sorcery is performed. They are signs of a break in the normal flow of reality into something else.”
Over generations, the Vergants had recorded these glyphs, studying them, forming links, learning their meanings. By recreating them and linking them to an Ether source, one could replicate the intended manipulation of reality.
Tee remembered what the Commander once told her about their telecoms—why they couldn’t simply teleport at will. It made sense now. Glyphs defined boundaries.
The symbols varied endlessly—some tiny, forming larger shapes, squares within circles, overlapping rectangles, spirals within spirals. Tee stared until her eyes hurt. There seemed no limit to the forms reality could take.
The Insignia
Among the glyphs, Tee learned of the Insignia—what modern worlders called the curse mark. It too was a glyph, one that represented the Xenogene successfully bonding with a host. At any moment, the mark could mutate a person into a human-eating monster.
Some believed the Xenogene was a Seal that could be broken. If so, then who created it? Certainly not the Vergants, for the Insignia had existed long before they began to grasp Ether energy. The thought raised darker questions Tee dared not voice.
The beauty of glyphs was that one did not always need to know how to perform something naturally. Less knowledge was required if the glyphs were used correctly.
Yet Tee learned of a scale that fascinated her:
1. The weaker the Ether energy, the greater the technical knowledge required. To kill someone, for example, you could manipulate a specific muscle in the heart, causing the organ to fail. To outsiders, the victim would simply drop dead.
2. The greater the Ether energy, the less knowledge required. With something like the Omega Stone, one could merely think of a person not having life, and reality would bend to that desire.
The concept captivated Tee. She had heard of the Omega Stone countless times, always said to be lost. But she knew from her time at Primus—nothing was ever as final as they claimed.
Eager, Tee began testing her knowledge. With her vast Ether energy, she found it simple to heat a cup of water without even considering the natural process of heat transfer. Reality obeyed her intent.
Aven guided her further, teaching her to channel her energy into her fingertips, drawing glyphs in the air. It was a safer, more accurate method than simply imagining them. Each line glowed faintly before fading, leaving Tee breathless at the elegance of it.
Her progress was undeniable. Soon, she no longer needed to pull her hood over her head to verge. A mere blink, a closing of her eyes, and she slipped into that otherworldly current with ease.
The White-Haired Village
Afterward, they traveled further, reaching a village where every inhabitant had striking white hair and luminous blue eyes. Tee slowed as they entered, watching the people with fascination. She felt, strangely, a sense of belonging there, as if the blood in her veins resonated with theirs.
The people wore gems on cords around their necks, glowing faintly in shades of azure, silver, and violet. Tee at first assumed the gems influenced their appearance, but Aven quickly clarified.
“The gems aren’t for beauty,” he told her, his tone patient. “They protect the Vergants against vultures or dark spirits during excursions outside the village. Without them, we are… vulnerable.”
Tee touched her own chest where no gem hung, and a chill ran down her spine. Vulnerable. The word stuck.