Silra Dofeno grew up near one of the many capitals in Ligeia, learning the art of hunting from his young years from his father. They used to leave the house at the break of dawn and only come back after the first half of day. The hunted animals were then taken to a nearby village and tended by druids. And only then they parted bread. He used to practice his wood carving skills while his father changed the bandages on his deformed leg.
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His father had a severe skin condition that peeled off the healing tissue at the slightest movement. It did hurt him at every movement, but he endured the stingy pain while walking or hunting and the more he taught Silra, the less movements he had to make. The change and care for the daily wounds took about forty minutes, three times a day, since his leg was always wet with blood and pus. Every healer or doctor that tried to examine his condition could not explain what it was or if there was a cure for it. Silra himself could not bring himself to remember if his father always had that condition or not, but it felt recent, as his father sought for a new healer every decade. The forest was an unfriendly landscape for healing, although it provided plenty of healing herbs for his plasters, the activity of climbing trees became harder by the years. His mother was always present to assist his father with the bandages and conjuring their food.
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The elven lifestyle is very calm, only bothered when trespassers entered the forest territory and as its protectors the Wood Elves had to do their best in defending it. Years are but numbers to an Elf and they feel the time in a different way than humans since they do not sleep, but go into a deep trance for resting. They reach their adult stage at their hundred thirtieth birthday and only then the Elf is free to wander through the woods and hunt alone. In his adult age, Silra was always with a friend, whether it was to hunt or practice their bond with the forest spirits. The Wood Elves were blessed by the spirits and allowed them to summon delicious fruits that satiated the hunger for an entire day and they also were able to channel the spirits to the earth, making small living trees grow from it. Their bond also marked the faces of the elves with black marks on their faces in irregular shapes and waves. The elves used the wood to do everything they could, from tools to houses and built them on top of gigantic tree branches.
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One day, during his patrol with a friend, he saw his father going down his tree house and walking deeper into the woods. Following from a distance, Silra and his friend saw his father reaching with his arm inside a crevasse in a hollow barked tree. He removed one old book that had patched leather as its cover. The father read the book for hours until he got startled by a cracking branch, putting the book back in a hurry, then looking for shelter. A deer walked in their sight and his father left the shelter while laughing and petting the animal. The father then started to walk back to his house and Silra got too curious about that strange book, approaching it and opening its cover.
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The contents of the book were confusing and used an advanced language for magic. They tried to decode it for weeks, while studying the basics of magic with a druid in a nearby village. The father did not visit the hollow tree very often, so Silra had plenty of time to study it. Magic itself had a lot of rules: “When The Architects created the planes and gods, they spoke thirty words, in which they shaped into everything we know today. Lumo is the word spoken for Light and so on. The words then became what we know as Arcane Words. When a light magic is to be conjured, the caster needs to speak the arcane word Lumo, while imagining the rune for the arcane word in his head and at the same time control the flux of magic provided into the desired shape. There are arcane words that are more advanced and complex and that there were multiple ranks of spellcast. If the caster wanted to mix wind and light into a brand new personalised magic for extra potency and versatility he would need that much more energy and control and the more advanced the words used, the more likely is the magic to fail and the energy invested lost. An advanced spell caster can use multiple arcane words and mix them into new magic, but mastering multiple arcane words takes years of study and practice. All the rules to cast a magic must be followed and magic is contained within the arcane words”. The druid tried to be as thorough as he could to beginners and Silra learned the hard way that magic is complex and not for everyone.
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The more he learned about magic and its properties, the less he understood the strange book. It never mentioned any magic word but yet talked about these strange advanced studies, like reverse time or bend space. As Silra was still unsure what he had, he never showed the book to anyone and it was kept as a secret between the two boys. The next time the father went into the woods and opened the book, Silra was there.
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- What is that book, father? It looks like magic but it is strange and twisted. What do you do with it? - Silra was both curious and scared for the answer to come.
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- You were not meant to see this. That is not the path I designed for you, Silra. - He sitted down on a tree log on the floor - This is forgotten magic. I can teach you, if you desire, but I must warn you that the side effects are permanent, or so they appear to be. - The father moved his leg forward - I come here every time I think of a new way to use this forgotten magic in order to heal my leg, but I was not yet successful. The effects are far worse than what you can expect and it is not predictable. Are you still interested?
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It was already too late for Silra to back down. The father started explaining that the forgotten magic was the concept of tapping into the power of gods and ignoring the ordinary magic rules, allowing one to bend reality and its contents at will, but that power is not contained and the power of gods is far too strong for humanoid bodies, forcing them to pay equal price as the bend with their own body or with catastrophic collateral damage. The leg permanent injury was a side effect to bending the reality and warping part of a powerful monster to another plane of existence, killing the monster and saving his mother and himself as a baby. The leg corroded almost instantly and left away that horrendous battle scar to remind him of that day.
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Silra learned from his father for a few decades, learning how to bend reality in countless possibilities and measuring the side effects. After using it regularly to do simple tasks, Silra began to hear a constant low mumble. His father said that was the point to give it a break and let reality perceive its flow, because that voice scared him. Silra never questioned the source of that power, but the answer from his father was enough to make him shiver.
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One day he was startled by a scream and guttural howls in the forest. When he woke up from his trance, Silra tried to find cover and safely find out what was happening. He poked his head out just in time to see his mother being dragged into the woods, leaving a trail of blood behind. He climbed down the tree slowly and quietly, following the trail. It was harder than usual to find the right path, because the rain falling was red as blood. The scene was terrifying. His mother's body was being torn apart by two hellhounds, gigantic demonic dogs with fangs as sharp as daggers. The demons started to fight for one leg and a gigantic hand hit the head of one of them with a punch. A third demon, with humanoid shape, held leashes for the hounds and disciplined them for the fight. His father laid unconscious by a tree, breathing faintly. Silra tried to move away, but his body was shaking and he accidentally stepped on a dead branch. The hounds let go of their prey and looked in his direction.
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The elf looked at his father as a reflex. He had recovered his conscience and looked back at him deeply. He nodded to his son sadly and it was hard to tell if he was crying as the water rushed his face, but it was visible he was shaking. Silra assumed his stance and closed his eyes in a last desperation act. His hands started moving and the rain stopped mid air. With another movement he sucked all the water and wind present into a dense ball of energy containing raging red water in its contents. He clapped his hands in the ball and then opened his arms, extending the energy flux into a spear. He held the spear with his hands and it grew in length considerably. He opened his eyes, now solid white, and branded the energy spear. The hounds charged towards him to stop the attack, but they were not fast enough. Everything in the range of the spear got cut in half, including the three demons, trees and his friend that observed the scene in a supposed safe distance.
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Silra had no time to feel sad. He fell into his knees and his blood started to boil, with visible heat bubbles underneath his skin. He opened his mouth to try to scream from pain, but the only sound that came from his open mouth was the sizzling sound of his insides. He started to lose his grip and he felt his body floating away.
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His father reached out with his hand and the space around his son started to twist into a black hole, spitting out a renewed version of the body of Silra. He erased the last minutes from the existence of that body, returning it to an untouched state. The consequence for it was delivered and the same collateral that momentarily killed Silra, had permanently killed his father.
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After recovering from sorrow, the young elf grabbed the forgotten knowledge book and wandered off, in search of more knowledge and a way to bypass the consequences so he could save lives instead of gambling for his.
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The search for the knowledge was tough and since Silra could not rely on his magical powers, he had to resort to his old hunting bow. He used the reality manipulation only for minor feats, since the drawbacks were devastating. The last time he resorted to the knowledge was at that episode in the woods, years ago.
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Even though the Elf used his bow most of the time, he dressed as an mage, with long blue robes. His hair was straight and brown and his face was covered with the markings of his people. He left the woods, but never abandoned the forest spirits and their beliefs.
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His search led him to the old ruins of an ancient city, long devastated by war, where people avoided wandering due to the high density of undead creatures and powerful demons. The rubble was piled up and Silra could see the skeletons laid on the floor. That city had been looted countless times and now the number of enemies was considerably lower and all the rubble gave him the perfect setting to hide. His previous encounters taught him how to detect and avoid such creatures and he slowly found his way in the ancient library.
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All the books were covered in dust and it was difficult to read the titles properly. Most of them were written in languages he did not understand, such as the language of the dwarves. His search lasted for what felt like days, but he had all the time he needed, after all, since he could create his food and soundlessly transe for resting. And then he finally found something that drew his attention. A book with an elvish language title and golden letters. He opened the book and read its contents. The book was a logbook of a group of elves that left centuries ago to a new continent and contained details of their travel and the history of that people.
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“A place where elves are kings and nobles. Interesting, but how did the Wood Elves manage to live in society and cut their bonds with the forest? These ruins will not have anything I need, but maybe this city will, since they have been protecting secrets for centuries.” Silra thought and considered his possibilities. He did not have any knowledge in how to sail, so he would need a ship and a crew to guide him, but no one would accept taking him to uncharted territories and no pirate would give up the chance of getting a good treasure out of him as payment. If no treasure was found, the payment would be his life.
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In his plan, the first place to go would be to the closest capital and try to find maps or more information about that continent, the directions to sail and its current situation. The trip took him a few weeks on foot, but he finally managed to find a gigantic capital, crowded with different people. On his way to the library, he felt the presence of magic coming out of one of the many alleys in the city. He stopped and turned in its direction. He kept staring, waiting for something to come out of it. That same presence was the same he felt years ago, on the day his parents died. It was the presence of magic paths and portals.
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- ”Glory of Falina”? - A voice came from behind him, reading the book he carried in his hands. The voice was speaking his elvish language and had a weird accent. - What is so important in that city anyways?
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Silra turned around to see a figure covered in black robes and the face covered with a hood. He hid the book away in his own robe and hesitated before asking back: - How do you know that city?
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- I can tell you all about it. But not here. Follow me. - The cloaked man turned his back and started walking towards one of the alleys.
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The elf followed the cloaked man into the magic flow from the alley. Every time he blinked his eyes, more and more different people appeared following the same man. Silra, however, was not surprised as he knew that by walking onto that magical flow had unpredictable outcomes for outsiders. The best he could do was to prepare for the worst. The man finally entered a room at the end of the pathway.
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Inside the room, more cloaked people were seated around a big magic circle. By the layout, Silra could tell that no ordinary mage would be able to cast a magic that complex and that having multiple casters was a way to give more safety and spread the amount of energy required.
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- Krucigon? Majesto? Illuzio? - Asked a voice from the crowd - That is advanced magic. Who are you guys?
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Silra knew the existence of those arcane words, but some of them were too advanced and complex for him to understand. There was not one person with the ability to use those words among the people that lived in the forest.
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- Everything in due time. - Answered the cloaked man. - Now, we are all here. Let us begin. - He walked to the corner of the room and picked up a bunch of scrolls, then delivered one to every person in that crowd.
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When everyone received one piece of those scrolls, they all checked the contents. Silra could immediately feel magic imbued in the paper, even though It looked like a simple map with very basic directions.
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With a signal from the cloaked man, all other cloaked people seated started the spell cast in one voice and the whole room started to shake. A few moments later the chant ceased and so did the shaking. The cloaked man opened a small corridor in the confused crowd and made his way to the door. When opened, the door revealed darkness, completely different from the illuminated alley they entered previously. All the other cloaked members stood up and left the room. The contractor stepped out of the room, looking at the adventurers, and said: "You have twenty four hours to arrive at your destination. Just make sure you leave town by the east gate" then left, closing the door behind him.
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Silra was unsure of what was the casted spell and rushed out of the room. His eyes adapted to the new brightness faster than humans and he was one of the first to reach the warehouse doors. When the first group opened the doors and illuminated the interior, he was already outside. The vision of multiple flags that seemed somewhat familiar to him made him think that he was now in one port from Ligeia, but the map would make him think again. By reading the sky and the few visible stars, he was quickly able to know the direction to the east gate. He nimbly moved across the city and was again one of the first to reach the guarded gate.
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He could feel magic coming from the gate, similar to the slow steady flow coming from the alleys minutes ago. This time, however, it was shaped up in a tunnel. The gate and the map had similar magic feelings and his intuition told him to keep the map while crossing the gate. As he continued along the road, he confirmed that the magic led him to the right place since he was now alone for miles ahead. Not even the city behind him was visible anymore.
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Silra continued to follow the road, reaching a gigantic river with torches. The closer he got to the torches, the more magic energy he felt. "The gate and the map were connected. Maybe the torches are as well." He thought before grabbing his map on his sachet. The scroll did not react to the presence of the torch, but the magic was the same in both, as it was in the gate. He touched the torch pole and used his magic to transform it. He felt something moving on his map and he was ready to push out a bug, but he realised that something was being twisted in the scroll paper.
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The scroll twisted itself as in the process of transforming the torch pole. When he cancelled his magic energy, the map twisted back to its original state, leaving a short phrase below a drawing. The phrase said "The power to bend is as fragile as one's body.". The drawing was a hand inside a circle, with multiple symbols around it. He knew exactly what that phrase meant but saw no utility for its current situation. He reached his arm to the raging river and started to focus.
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- This will hurt - he mumbled as he started to twist his hand. With the movement he created a small area of vacuum inside the river, changing the flow briefly. He moved his arm around, trying to scout something underwater, until he was able to spot a brick wall hidden under the raging flow. He let go of his power and immediately dropped to his knees. His arms were dripping wet and he felt the earth at his feet move a little. It was a very long lump of skin, in the same trajectory as the vacuum ball inside the river. His arm was dripping blood and his cloak was now soaked. He tore apart the wet part of the cloak and tore it again. He improvised a tourniquet on his arm with the cloak and stood up again.
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Silra stepped on the submerged brick wall, almost losing his balance. The flow of the river was very strong but the wall was thick and allowed room for error. He proceeded to walk carefully on top of it until reaching the other side.
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At the shore, the elf walked a couple more minutes, until seeing smoke. He approached the source carefully. He saw a campfire where he recognised other adventurers that were getting dried up from the water around it. There were also cloaked figures serving water and stew. He approached the campfire to tend his wound, but when he removed the improvised bandage, one cloaked person approached him and took out real clean bandages from inside the cloak. The figure flipped the water jug on the wound and started a very low chant with its hands over the arm. The water started vibrating and then jumped around, covering all of the wound and creating a translucent scab. The person then bandaged the arm, stood up and then stepped back to the row of other cloaked figures. One old man was sitting next to him, watching the scene.
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- It could also fix your cloak since they were already at it but druidic magic never ceases to amaze me. - The man had a gigantic white beard that had a good share of it touching the floor. He also wore a cloak, in different colours and patterns.
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- I think it was already good enough, that wound would put me in even colder waters eventually. - Silra replied to the old man smiling.
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They exchanged a few words until the old man decided that it was time to continue. He stood up and continued to walk the path. Silra took a while to clean after himself and continued down the road. The road unfolded into a gigantic mountain with torches in regular intervals. The old man was nowhere to be seen.
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He grabbed his map from inside his bag, which still had the previous phrase. He looked at his arm, thinking of what he could do to climb a mountain with an arm in that state. He then channelled his bending power to the map again, this time trying to go deeper inside the paper layer without physically pushing it.
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The map began to twist itself once again. When it stopped, the phrase was now completed. It said "The godly power to bend reality allows you to be as powerful as your mind and as weak as your body". Silra thought it was not a great development, but it made him realise that the toll on his body was somewhat similar to what he had bent, but in a way smaller proportion.
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He sat on the floor and closed his eyes for concentration. He placed his hand on his shoulder and concentrated his bend. His face was twisting in pain, then he raised the other hand. He opened a hole in his shoulder that was possible to stick a whole finger inside or to see through his body. On his other hand, the rock twisted itself and opened a path just like he did to himself. The mountain opened up enough for him to advance through it to the other side.
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When he crossed, both his shoulder and the mountain closed their holes at the same time, but the arm used to open the hole on himself collapsed to the side of his body, unable to move. He waited a few hours in order to try to measure the consequence. His arm was completely numb. No movement, no feelings. He gave up on waiting, but noticed, once again, that no other adventurer passed him through in the hours he waited. He made his steady walk towards the gigantic city built over the mountain. When approaching, the city guards crossed their halberds, asking for identification. Silra showed his map and they let him continue his climb through the long ramp upwards.
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On the courtyard, there were six high seats, in which one of them was sitting the old figure that talked to him at the fireplace, in a fancy robes and shiny jewellery. He sat on one of the long benches, next to a few other adventurers and waited for the twenty four hour period to end.
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The six members looked at each other and the old man started speaking.
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- We will have time for introductions later. Judging by the nature of these challenges this is a process to choose who they will trust this mission to. I need that answer more than anything in life.
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- I damaged my arm on the way here. I will aid as i can, my strength is in my mind, not my limbs. I will not be dead weight.
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