Alia quietly observed the first-year class. It was led by Instructor Kawas, who, aided by a handful of assistant instructors, inscribed first-circle formations in chalk on the room's enormous blackboard. The twenty-five students of Junior Class C did their best to copy the geotry into their notes, scratching away while Alia listened in on Kawas’s instruction.
“Note the double-helix shouldn’t pass the heartline here,” Kawas intoned to the class, snapping a long cane against the blackboard. “The aetherflow must separate before; otherwise, you won’t have room to construct the dextral and sinistral triquetra here and here.” The instructor prodded at another area of the board, saying, “Those of you who struggle to form first-circle triquetras can use the simpler lemniscate as a replacent, although you’ll struggle to match the forr’s efficiency. For the select few in the class who are already experienced with these sub-formations, consider replacing this area with a reuleaux triquetra; you’ll find the practice useful if and when you attempt second-circle wards.”
Alia desperately wanted to grab a pen and paper and start copying earnestly. She couldn’t, of course. If she did, everyone would know she was a fraud! A charming and powerful fraud! Everyone naturally assud that Alia knew all the underlying theories and terminology that ford the building blocks of spellcraft, but she didn’t!
Alia’s magical talents were entirely intuitive and instinctive. She didn’t think about this stuff at all! Her aether naturally moved according to her intentions; a determined push of her willpower would manifest her desired spell. Alia wasn’t thinking about her aether flowing from double-helix spin formations into rouleaux triquetra amplification nodes; it just happened!
She had to admit she was impressed by the rigour of the academic study of magic. Instructors and students didn’t see aether as so mystical substance beyond human or demon understanding. It was a phenonon that followed strict natural laws. When ford into specific three-dinsional shapes, the aether's behaviour was well understood and modelled with equations similar to the fluid-dynamics equations Alia was familiar with from her old world.
Although using different symbols, the mathematical equations Kawas had written on the blackboard were almost identical to the partial differential equations that ford the Navier-Stokes equations Alia had long since morised. There were slight differences; where her version of the equation used a Cauchy stress tensor, the version on the blackboard used sothing called an aetheric flow tensor. These equations were called the Barfield-Sina Equations, nad after the demons that discovered them seventy years ago.
Alia made as many ntal notes as she could. Thankfully, she hadn’t been approached by any students or instructors who wished to discuss magical theory with her. She wasn’t sure if it was considered impolite or if they were wary of working with a human, but Alia was glad to have so breathing room. By taking advantage of her right as an instructor to sit in on any lecture she wanted, coupled with the mathematical books she’d checked out from the library, Alia planned to quickly learn the nonclature of the academic field so she could at least pretend she knew what she was on about.
These discovered mathematical structures that modelled aether highlighted how different Alia’s reality was from the ga she played in the hospital. The full-imrsion ga she put thousands of hours into didn’t have anywhere close to the detail she was now becoming aware of. Alia previously thought perhaps the ga represented a ti in Cascadia’s past, but nothing she’d seen on any maps, nas of people, kingdoms, or cities matched anything she’d discussed with Serena. The anti-climatic conclusion Alia had co to was that the developers behind the ga sohow possessed so knowledge of the real magic system and that they reproduced it virtually for entertainnt.
Still, that didn’t explain why Alia was in the situation that she was.
You couldn’t really gain real-world magical abilities by just playing a ga, could you?
A clap by Kawas snapped Alia out of her thoughts. The class moved into the practical part. Twenty-five students began trying to construct the formations on the blackboard. The more inexperienced of them began with simpler shapes and sub formations, while the more capable students experinted with complete formations, creating first-circle wards while adjusting their aether flows to better their understanding of the process.
Of the twenty-five students, only a couple seed to stand above the rest, either at or close to second-circle magic. Serena had told her that graduating from an academy as a second-circle mage or an orange-aura warrior was good. Being capable of third-circle or yellow aura was excellent. It would guarantee a prosperous career in civilian life or, if they were on the officer course, a double promotion upon graduation.
When it ca to a student communing a First Word, that event was exceptionally rare. Alia had seen the hall of fa in the entrance hall listing the students who had achieved such a montous achievent; it was a short list with often more than a decade in between nas. Not even her fantastic girlfriend, the talented and ferocious Serena Halen, had managed to do it. She did see the nas Takahiro Oshiro and Yuu Shun, which Alia made the educated guess were the first nas of Asamaywa’s greatlord and the academy's grumpy grandmaster.
Alia humd to herself while she watched the class. Instructor Kawas and her assistants offered help and advice to the struggling students. So common issues the students faced were maintaining an aetherflow with sufficient velocity within their bodies, failing to construct the formation large enough, and difficulty controlling their aether to form the required shape. The assistants would demonstrate by sitting close to the students, constructing the formations themselves in an exaggerated size, and then flaring their aether so the student's perception of the aetherfield would give them a better understanding of how they should be doing it.
Alia made a ntal note to start practising exaggerated versions of the sub-formations. In the next class, she should be capable of helping out as long as she learns the terminology to go with it.
The class ended, and the students filtered out, so looking tired and frustrated. Alia thanked Kawas and got directions on where to find Lunaria. When the aether addict wasn’t cycling aether in a training room, she would be consud with so experint or another in her laboratory at the top of the tower. As Alia was already halfway up the tower, she would check the laboratory above first.
Alia left the class and headed up the spiral staircase. On the way, any staff mber she passed and even a few students nodded in acknowledgent. The news of her domination over Senior Class B spread like wildfire, and even though so students looked at her suspiciously, the majority treated her with growing respect.
As Alia neared the top floor, she was surprised to find that the staircase didn’t end at a landing like the other floors. Instead, it coiled upwards through the ceiling, tapering into a steep staircase that ended at a large wooden door. Even before getting too close, Alia sensed Lunaria's presence inside; the room was shielded with sound and aether muffling asures, yet with just a touch of focus, Alia could easily recognise Lunaria’s familiar aether signature.
Just as she could detect Lunaria, the aether addict could detect her back. The demon’s voice could be heard from sowhere above, telling her to co right in. Alia happily obliged, and with a cheerful, ‘excuse !’, she opened the door, climbing up the last few steps into Lunaria’s laboratory.
Initially, Alia noticed countless unique aether signatures scattered throughout her surroundings. Various cut crystals in different shapes and sizes were employed to harness and direct aether across nurous experints. Crystals floated over copper-hued tal plates, others heated liquids, and so sparked electricity between them. Many crystals exhibited intricate cuts that exceeded what Alia learned in yesterday's crystal-craft lecture.
In the center of the room, an enormous telescope, perhaps ten ters long, pointed at an opening in the ceiling. Lunaria must have taken over the tower's observatory and turned it into her laboratory.
The instructor in question stepped out from a pile of books and glassware. Unlike the first ti they t, Lunaria wasn’t running any glamors. The demon’s silver hair and creased eyes gave her an aged, wise appearance.
“Feel free to have a look,” Lunaria said, gesturing towards the telescope. “Should still be pointed at the moon.”
“Can I?” Alia replied with a grin. She walked over to the telescope and bent down to look through the eyepiece. Through it, she was greeted with the sight of the brilliant blue moon. The supernatural object gave off an ethereal lustre that was noticeable though it was dayti.
The surface, as best as she could see, varied heavily in terrain. So parts of the moon’s surface shone brighter, while others were duller. She guessed this was due to different amounts of rock and crystal. Rimming the moon were thousands of smaller lights, too small to be seen even through the telescope.
“Are the lights surrounding it the crystals breaking off, ready to fall?” Alia asked, not looking up from the telescope. Sothing about the moon made her want to keep looking, subtly pulling her attention.
“Yes,” ca Lunaria’s reply. “The moons are constantly growing, and when the Chernykh limit is reached, the surplus tephra is ejected by the subsurface aethermagmatic activity.”
“They’re constantly growing!?” Alia exclaid, bringing her head up and looking at Lunaria. “How’s that possible? Where does the mass co from?”
“Well, if you figure that out, you’ll earn yourself a Golden Eagle,” Lunaria intoned with a smile. “They’re not considered supernatural for nothing.” The demon approached the telescope, producing a click as she flipped a lever. Lunaria gestured towards the eyepiece, saying, “Look again, do you see the two lines on the lens?”
Alia put her eye against the telescope's eyepiece. Whatever Lunaria did caused two thin vertical lines to appear. They slightly inside the left and right edges of the moon. To the left of the first line were numbers.
“One three six,” Alia mumbled. “What do they an?”
“Distance,” Lunaria replied pointedly. “One hundred and thirty-six thousand kilotres. It asures the distance of the moon from our surface. Use the controls next to your right hand to adjust the lines. The controls by your left hand adjust the telescope's aim, magnification and focus. Adjust it so the moon fits perfectly between the two lines and read out the number.”
“Sure!” Alia set about testing the different controls and seeing which ones did what. It took less than a minute for her to adjust the lines so they neatly hugged the blue moon. As the lines moved or the telescope’s magnification changed, so did the numbers. “One two nine,” she read out. Alia looked up from the eyepiece to see Lunaria writing on a blackboard, adding the value to the end of a long list of descending asurents.
“Slowing down,” Lunaria intoned, “Another day or two, it’ll reach its perigee. Then it’ll be about sixty-eight hours till the moonrain hits us.” The instructor turned to face Alia. “You’re welco to view it from up here; the viewing towers in the city are often crowded unless you spend enough money.”
“I’ll think about it!” Alia chirped, looking at the tables of asurents on the blackboard. “Is it a hobby then, this…” Alia hesitated, trying to find the right word. “...this moonwatching?”
“Partially,” Lunaria replied with a nod. “I often run sensitive experints up here, and the moon's proximity needs to be factored into the aether asurents, as well as any nearby lumina storms. I also monitor any abnormal volcanism on the moon. I have a friend in Centralis studying it, so I send him my sightings.”
“What kind of abnormal activity do you look out for?”
“The kind that throws a big enough aetherlith at us that risks devastating an area. Even though they slow down as they get closer to the lumina, anything more than a hundred ters in diater will impart a lot of energy when it impacts. We don’t want them to hit a populated area.”
“Right,” Alia nodded. “What’s an aetherlith?”
Lunaria tilted her head slightly. “It’s the scientific na for the igneous material that falls during moonrains, produced by the subsurface volcanic activity in the moons.” The instructor paused for a mont. “You don’t have a formal education in this subject?”
“I’ve had an…” Alia looked to the side awkwardly. “An unusual upbringing. Lots of bits got left out. However!” She thrust out an enthusiastic thumbs up towards the Head Instructor. “That’s partially why I’m here! To catch up on the gaps in my education!”
“Hmm…” Lunaria murmured, rubbing her chin.
“So what happens if a city is threatened with a collision?” Alia asked, trying to change the subject away from her ignorance.
“Protecting urban centres from the most serious threats is the domain and sworn responsibility of each Terra Firma’s Overlord,” Lunaria explained. “But an aetherlith event happens rarely. Once every few decades across the entire Empire.”
“I suppose you’ll need soone of an Overlord’s power to deflect or destroy the incoming aetherlith,” Alia proposed. Seeing Lunaria nod, Alia took the chance to slid into one of her intended topics. “Speaking of great power…” As she spoke these words, Alia didn’t miss Lunaria’s eyes glint in anticipation. The instructor truly was an aether addict! “When I invoked certain Words, I saw sothing I had never seen before… There seed to be so kind of…” Alia paused, placing one horizontal palm against her other one, “...So kind of layered reality, or realm, or sothing. It was as if there were two Cascadia’s, one hidden away sohow. I also detected powerful aether signatures in this other place, and I think they could detect . Do you…” She shuffled her feet a little. “Know what that is?”
Lunaria didn’t reply imdiately. Slowly, a wirey smile ford on her face. “I was hoping you could tell …” the instructor mumbled before walking away. “What you speak of is both known and unknown,” Lunaria called out as she started digging through piles of books. “It’s known that it exists, and that has been known for a long ti… ah, here we are!” Lunaria pulled out an old leather-bound book with no title. She motioned for Alia to join her at a table where she laid the book out, opening it to a bookmarked page.
“A third-century drawing of the first Greatlord of Kenhoro and Tanhae. A mage and scholar called Sun Simao. The drawing is an abstraction, but look at his comntary.” Lunaria pointed at the text underneath the drawing.
“I can’t read Manwese,” Alia said.
“Oh, of course,” Lunaria said with an apologetic tone. The demon traced her finger along the manwese script, reading out loud in a solemn voice, “In realms unseen, my granted divinity unveils the sacred abode of the Kami. Shrouded in the mists of the unknowable, it reveals itself only to those who dare reach the pinnacle of their celestial endownt. Here, in this veiled sanctuary, the Kami watch and I stand beneath their gaze, a lone mortal among the divine.” Lunaria raised a hand, coughly quietly. “And then he continues to blather on about Kami for a while. You’ve spent so ti in Kenhoro. You’re familiar with it?”
Alia nodded quickly. “Right! So is that’s what it is? The realm of the Kami?”
“Probably not,” Lunaria replied with a shrug, raising one palm to her side. “There’s a docunt recording a Northern Greatlord making a similar observation in the early fourth century, although he ascribes it to the realm of spirits, where they wait until they can cross into the ice and be born as ice golems.” Lunaria tilted her head, raising the other palm. “A few decades later, one of the desert Greatlords channels enough aether to see the sa thing, only this ti they think it’s the dominion of the Wagi, which is their na for the insect gods they worship.”
Lunaria began counting with her fingers. “Other theories include but are not exclusive to…” The demon took a breath. “It’s the first of the Seven Hells; it’s the utopia talked about in Murian scripture; it’s a prison for the banished souls of the Enemy during the Long Discordancy; it’s the aetherfield manifesting its own reality or the source of aether itself; it’s the ho of any number of Kami, spirits, or Formless. Uh…” Lunaria paused for a mont. “Oh, and there were so fifth-century philosophers popular in Centralis, claiming it was the realm of perfect forms that are ideal representations of all objects in the real world, unaffected by the flux and impermanence of the physical world.”
“So you’re saying…” Alia said, feeling a little bit disappointed. “No one knows?”
“Oh!” Lunaria exclaid, “Soone knows for sure. There’s an Imperial decree that any investigation or produced material regarding it must pass review by Centralis authorities first. So soone knows more than anyone else, and soone doesn’t want information about it getting out.”
“When you say soone,” Alia said, pointing a finger upwards. “You an the Empress, right?”
“Maybe. Likely. My guess is whatever it is either has divine or military applications,” Lunaria said with a shrug. “But there’s one thing is that’s very interesting…” Lunaria whispered, leaning in closely. “Is that in the decree written by the Empress, she refers to it as the Shimr; a word that, as far as I know, appears for the first ti in that docunt. Make of that what you will…
“I won’t lie,” Lunaria continued. “A large part of the reason why I practice channelling so much aether is to unveil this Shimr better. One thing is certain: the more aether localised in an area, the boundary between this reality and that one is reduced. I only wonder…” Lunaria’s voice quietened. “With enough aether, could soone cross into this other place? What would happen if they did?”
“Maybe one day we’ll find out…” Alia replied with a nervous grin. If the quantity of aether was all that was required to break down the boundaries between the two realities, then what would happen if Alia truly let loose? Would she be able to cross into this Shimr? Or would sothing terrible happen? Would those creatures on the other side be able to co through into Cascadia?
She would have to be careful.
“One more thing…” Alia continued, “You ntioned so people theorise the Shimr is the realm of the Formless.” Seeing Lunaria nod, Alia asked, “Can you explain to what you know of them? The Formless? I never really, uh…” She rubbed the back of her neck, looking to the side. “Never really learned about them in any detail.”
“Look at you,” Lunaria replied, smiling as she crossed her arms. “Coming up here and bringing up mystery after mystery. As for the Formless… you’ve been sailing on the Vengeance, haven’t you? It’s well-known that a Formless called Anathor lives on the ship, bound to serve its captain. I would be interested in what you could tell about him.”
“Mmm…” Alia was about to start blabbering, caught in excitent, but she managed to stop herself. “I don’t think I’m allowed. It’s a military vessel, and Serena would probably throw overboard if I talked casually about its secrets… I was hoping to ask about them in general…”
Lunaria shrugged, seemingly taking no offence at Alia’s refusal to elaborate on Anathor. “As with the Shimr, no one truly knows; if they did, they aren’t sharing. However, we know a few things.” The demon raised one aged finger. “Intelligence. The Formless vary in sentience. So barely react to stimuli, while others will happily converse with you. Two, permanence and impermanence. The Formless can pass through physical objects, essentially allowing them to fly. However, they still obey the laws of aether. Wards can halt them, and if so reports are to be believed, they can be hard with magic and aura. Imperial decree forbids aggressive action towards them, although you may defend yourself if necessary. To my knowledge, such a need has never arisen.”
Lunaria took a breath, raising a third finger. “Three, their origins. The first clear records of them began shortly after the Empress prevailed against the Enemy. There are older records that survived the Long Discordancy, but we’re not sure if they refer to the Formless or sothing else. As for what they are, you have theories of everything from desert Djinn to Northern Spirits to Kami to gods and everything in between.”
“Can’t we just ask them where they co from? Or what they are?” Alia asked.
“They don’t know,” Lunaria replied. “They always have the sa answer; they don’t know or can’t rember. Either they coordinate their deception, or none of the Formless knows how they ca to be. The prevailing theory in the academic community is that they used to be human or demon, and then so event turned them into what they are now. So seem to have mories of when they were alive, or rather…” Lunaria’s brow furrowed. “When they were more alive.”
“How many are there?”
“There are forty-two Formless that we either know of directly or have hints of their existence. All that have been able to give their na have matched the list.”
“There’s a list?” Alia replied.
“Etched in Anglish in the Cathedral of Bone. I can’t rember if it's been dated to any era, but it’s been there a while. Here.. I have a copy of it sowhere around here…” Lunaria delved into the stacks of books and a mont later reappeared clutching a thin to. “Here we are! The Formless: Sightings and Conversations. The instructor flipped to one of the earlier pages. "On the left is a sketch of the original slab, but that’s in Old Anglish. On the right is the Imperial translation.”
Alia looked at the drawing. She could read Old Anglish just fine; it was her mother tongue after all. Still, she suspected revealing that to Lunaria might not be best, so she forced herself to read from the Imperial translation. The list contained forty-two nas. Strangely, every Formless lacked a surna and had unusual titles.
“Diego the Wanderer,” Alia muttered, reading one of the nas out loud. “I guess he travels around?”
“Exactly. Quite a friendly Formless as well. There are plenty of recorded conversations with him throughout the centuries, not just in Cascadia. Last decade, he stopped by a Federation land transport while they cooked lunch and discussed new culinary techniques.”
“Seriously?” Alia raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously. Many of them carry nicknas based on their behaviour and actions.”
“So this… Chandra the Philosopher…?”
“Once refused to let a Highlord sleep for three days until they finished their debate about utilitarian ethical fraworks.”
“Sindr the Savior?”
“Known to lead troubled airships through storms and other problematic situations. Takes the form of a glowing ball of light.”
Alia scanned the list and looked for Anathor. “So of the nas and titles are cut off,” she pointed out.
“The slab was broken at so point. Unless there’s another record sowhere, we only know the first few letters of so of them. So have been encountered and verified their nas and titles, but so have refused to elaborate.”
Alia read the broken list. Alongside the missing nas were comnts by the book’s author.
Idalia the Gent- (Assud Gentle or Gentleman. Never Encountered.)
Savia the- (Unknown title. Non-verbal. Two interactions, see p29 and p53)
ilo- (Never encountered)
Mir- (Mirabel the Dancer, discovered 205 AV, p11)
Celes- (Celestina the Seamstress, discovered 176 AV, see p9)
Honora the- (Possibly Honora the Daring, see p34)
And then, one final na that was obscured by the slab's damage.
Anathor the K- (Unknown title, existence confird through Centralis Intelligence in 630 AV. See p60)
“Anathor… the Kind?” Alia muttered. That would fit. Anathor was challenging to talk to sotis, but he was always courteous to everyone on the ship. Would he know what his title was if he asked her? He wouldn’t get angry if she poked a little, would he?
“The Kind?” Lunaria questioned. “Do you know?”
“No, sorry, just guessing.” Alia shook her head before tapping the book. “Can I take this? I’d like to read about the interactions people have had. The Formless are spoken about with such superstition by the sailors and the public. I want to understand them more.”
“Not a problem,” Lunaria said with a smile. “Is there anything else you wanted to ask?”
“No, thank you,” Alia flashed her best smile and gave Lunaria a bow. “You’ve been so helpful! Thanks for your ti, Lunaria!”
“Oh, you’re very welco…” Lunaria waved a hand dismissively. “That said, I have so future experints planned, which will require an awful amount of aether for a prolonged period of ti. Would you be willing to help an old lady?” A dangerous glint appeared in the demon’s eyes.
What kind of experints would this crazy aether addict want Alia for?
“Mmm, sure thing!” Alia chirped.
She wouldn’t co to regret that answer, would she?
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