Legacy of Palloxe Vienarti

The Rushing Water Temple has many lovely areas to walk around. For the rest of the day, I spend my time crossing over redwood bridges and steeping myself in the outdoor air.

Frustration stabs at me as I listen to Advisca explain to me all the ways a Demi-Urgaen can lose their spiritual energy. It's a far easier route than any normal person, really. We're basically open channels for other people, but it's a good thing my Thrinskar is reassuring and patient through all of my questions.

Living like a ghost in the First Chamber of Worship for three weeks has ingratiated an attitude of restlessness within me, apparently, and now that I've decided to become Totya's disciple, all I can think about is the harrowing inequity of my situation.

Divine Punishment in another dimension is something I have yet to understand, but Agmito assures me that when the time is right, I'll eventually understand the reason for my being here. But how can that be when I've had murky depictions of another life for the past three weeks? Every night is a retelling of fogged shapes in my dreams reaching out me, telling me that I belong with them.

That's what makes this existence a hollow one. There is catastrophic longing in my body that I can't seem to shake off. Giant, bird-shaped constructions of metal soar the sky, holding people as cargo across oceans, and glass towers situated in closely knitted civilizations gleam like diamonds under the sun. The visions are endless, the scenery vast and the faces legion in their expressions.

It makes me want to scream and shout... I am nowhere in that world. Instead, I've been trapped in another body and forced to endure Divine Punishment, which is a cruelty because my soul knows that its been wrought back from the abyss.

The cure to it all has been Advisca's immeasurable fondness for me. He doesn't mind the flippant attitude with which I treat him as we circumnavigate the myriad garden areas like a pair of unburdened temple-goers. My indignity is his own; and in a world where I'm so strikingly bereft, his astuteness to be by side is commendable.

Totoya and Agmito have some last-minute duties as soon as night time comes and so they both bid me goodnight, delivering me to a building that is not the First Chamber of Worship. I'm perplexed but nonetheless grateful.

I've been admitted into a small room that is connected to the kitchens of the cooking hut. The walls are sturdy and coated in soothing cream beiges, quite average in size and stocked with rattan shelving units. Porthole windows permit slivers of moonlight onto a child's bed.

This is most likely the room that they had prepared for me on my first night - that is, until I had opened my eyes, discovering myself to be a wretched soul implant. From then on, I had fastidiously rejected the idea of moving from the First Chamber of Worship.

Exhausted from twenty-fours days of kneeling, and from being overloaded with all of these objectionable self-discoveries, I force myself to slowly drag myself onto the bed. It's remarkably plush and it sinks beneath me, the mattress giving underneath my weight.

A thought occurs to me then... How old am I? I don't even know how old this body is. This body appears to be in its teens, at the very least.

'Master, I sense your confusion.' Advisca murmurs from outside the building.

His face lingers at the corners of my vision, just so that I can see him by the window. I sigh, jamming my head back into my pillow in an effort to make it softer.

'Advisca. Did I not tell you to park yourself away from me? How am I supposed to sleep with your sarcastic face lording over me all night?'

'I am merely watching over you. Master must be safe.' He retorts, his indefensible giddiness influencing me to pinch my cheeks; to my chagrin, it doesn't stop the smile from forming anyway.

'Sleep, I tell you.'

'I might be able to scan your soul's true age, if you are curious.'

'I'd rather you tell me this body's age instead. Can you do that?' I ask him.

His purring is audible even from outside. After a moment of his thoughts whizzing around my head like a hive of bees, he answers with, 'Your body is no older than fourteen, master.'

'Thank you, Advisca.'

'You're most welcome, master.'

I almost sleep, I almost tell him to go back to guarding me. But maybe being a nameless disciple of Totoya isn't the path I want to walk on anymore. 'Umm... Advisca? Do you speak the Forgotten Tongue?'

'Divine companions have our own version of it, although we are able to understand the languages of both when we hear them. Master wishes to know a word, yes?'

'I want to know the word for... retribution.'

'Ah, I see,' My Thrinskar gnaws on grass leaves before coming to an answer, 'Then the word master is looking for is... 'belsifear'. It is a powerful word in the Forgotten Tongue. It has been etched from the language many a century ago. Not many even remember the translation for it.'

'But you do?'

I can sense the pride simmering in our bond as he replies, 'Master, I am no youngling. The humans of this world may have etched words from their language, but us divine companions never do. Our memories are long, our lives even more so.'

Belsifear.

I mull this word over in my head, finding its tone and origins intriguing. The words of the Forgotten Tongue do hold a note of profoundness and maybe that's why I'm drawn to them. Advisca and Belsifear... I like the way they sound paired together.

Together we are persistence and retribution.

'Okay. I have decided what my name is. You may address me as Belsifear.'

'Of course, master.'

'It is Belsifear!'

His snorting face presses against the glass, those sparkling, luminescent eyes shining down like twin moons at me. 'Is that a command, master?' He asks, joyfully.

'Oh, bloody hell. Go to sleep.'

'As you wish. I shall call you Master Belsifear from now on.'

I pull the woolen blanket over me and sigh as we experience twinges of glee between the two of us. This spiritual thread between our souls had honestly seemed daunting at first, but slowly I am starting to find comfort in it.

I don't want to be in this body, but I am. The girl who owns it is not here anymore - only her memories exist; and they're beginning to resemble a distant dream, keeping me shackled to a deep sense of self-loathing. But what more can I do?

Until I am strong enough to challenge the gods, I will do what I must to survive. Maybe I will even get to return this body to her, if I can. My journey towards spiritual ascension begins tomorrow.

Sleep comes easily and wipes away the tension in my brows. Languish rolls through me like the ripples in the temple ponds.

Morning breaks over me, bird chatter pulling me from the sweet-nothings of my echoey dream. The blankets coiled around me feel like a cocoon and I take a second to rub my face into it, chagrined over how I'd initially turned this offering down. I'd done myself a great disservice, that's for sure. My body has not experienced such luxury, such perfection since waking up in this world.

'Good morning, Belsifear.' Advisca's voice chimes into my head, bright and clear like a whistle.

'Where are your manners? Yesterday you were like, 'master this and master that' and now you're calling me by my name only.'

'Perhaps you should get out of bed, Master Belsifear. Breakfast is being served in the Hall of Deep Focus.'

'Don't distract me... but fine, is everyone already there?'

'Lady Totoya is waiting for you outside. Make haste, master.'

I don't dawdle. I drag myself over to the shelves and poke through them, looking for something to wear. There's a pair of folded, clean clothes in my size. Some are slightly bigger, but I choose the ones that fit me. A pair of snowy harem pants and a matching robe with butterfly sleeves.

I suppose children also visit Rushing Water Temple so it makes sense for them to have accommodating sizes for overnight guests.

The kitchen is bustling with servants already. Men and women are swerving around granite counters, talkative and cheerful despite the fact that I'm an outsider careening my way past them all, eyeing each savory dish like a starved hound.

Totoya finds me straight away upon leaving the cooking hut. She's dressed in different clothes today; blue tones that remind me of an exotic flower, and a wooden staff is clutched in one hand. Her red hair is also braided back unlike the wild entanglement that I'd seen yesterday.

Her voice resonates with a mild discernment as she appraises my expression. "You must have decided on a name for yourself, little one."

"Yes. Belsifear."

The crinkles around Totoya's eyes deepen. There's no doubt that this woman knows a lot of words in the Forgotten Tongue - 'belsifear', being one of them.

Her affirmative nod somehow alleviates the pressure in my chest. I don't expect to feel so nervous about telling her, but I do. She doesn't discourage me from choosing this name. A smile of acceptance is just as powerful as a hug, I realize, and I can feel myself rubbing my neck in relief when Advisca trots towards us.

"Belsifear and Advisca. Now I can officially welcome you to Rushing Water Temple. Shall we go eat?" She says, pointing towards a pathway with her open hand.

The three of us establish a quick walking speed to get over to the hall. Advisca purrs the whole way in anticipation of the food that is to come. His good mood is nearly impossible to shield against. I find myself contaminated by his enthusiasm, an infiltrating spark of happiness gripping me from within and lifting the corners of my lips... How dare he influence me like this?!

'Stop being so happy, Advisca. It's only food.' I grumble.

My Thrinskar is already accustomed to the lack of energy and tact in my voice, therefore his swishing tail doesn't stop in the least when I try to reprimand him. I reach over, threading one hand into his mane while we walk, my unspoken deference for this creature growing even more.

The Hall of Deep Focus welcomes us like we're old friends. Priests go about their day and nod here and there at us when we arrive, and I'm too timid to do anything else but wave.

Totoya ushers me to the same table as last time and once more I am hounded by that voice from yesterday. I get struck by those tinkling chords of a feminine woman and they nag at me incessantly, striking at my insecurities... and they reach into me, fighting harder to get into my head today. That soft, alluring voice keeps telling me I'm an imposter and without meaning to, I fist my hands on the table, unable to keep my reaction in check. This illusionary magic is strong.

"Belsifear. We have many different places here at Rushing Water Temple. The Hall of Deep Focus is the one that I suggested you frequent with me. Agmito has agreed. We will build your resilience to illusionary magic and help you seal your mind. Soon you will be able to eat in this hall without the interference of... whatever it is you are experiencing." She reaches across the table and grabs one of my knuckled hands.

"I have to admit; it is harder than yesterday to repress the influence of the malachite."

"My master and his master before him, Palloxe Vienarti, were all casters of the true Fezenska Technique. As a Demi-Urgaen who isn't a native to our world, you might not know that Sages have different clans and magical practices. A Sage, by the way, is a person who is capable of harnessing great spiritual energy, more than the average person. Palloxe Vienarti was the pioneer of the Fezenska Technique and it is my hope to impart this specialty to you. Once you learn it, coming into the Hall of Deep Focus won't be a problem anymore."

Her words snare my attention instantly. I can only imagine the freedom of being able to sit here without the snide commentary of the disembodied voice.

"I'd like to hear more about the Fezenska Technique." I claim.

A rush of servants sweep in with trays of eggs and sausages on bread. I know from prior experience that another serving will be forthcoming. I humbly thank them before directing my eyes toward my master.

She grins. My eagerness for the subject must be pouring off of me. Advisca, posed at my back like a regal guardian, stuffs his snout into my neck - a reminder for his portion of food. I grab a loaf of bread and lob it over my shoulder.

"First thing's first, Belsifear," Totoya makes an 'X' with her pointer fingers and explains, "This is the First Level Rapture Position that Sages use when reciting in Dedjurian."

I mimic her pose, placing my hands in front of my chest so that we are mirror images of each other. "What next, Master Totoya?"

Another wave of deafening insults from the illusionary magic blares into my eardrums. I shudder and roll my neck, both eyes dropping to the table. The woman in front of me clears her throat.

"Pay attention to what comes next. Dedjurian is the bygone language of the Cardinal Sages. That's why it can awaken our spiritual essence upon recitation. Sages in this day and age have used this knowledge and passed it down to their clans, some of them even transforming key words so that certain techniques can never be replicated by others."

Utter focus wipes her expression in an instant - it's like she becomes another person entirely. With a deep breath, my master pushes her hands out in front of her, moving the X until it hovers a few inches away from the middle of the table.

Before I can ask her for an explanation, Totoya downturns the position of her X, thrusting it toward the table with so much force that I flinch as she says, "Aterra Fezenska!"

Something happens as she stops a hairs-breadth away from the table's surface... ripples of air break out from her fingertips.

I'm a second away from leaping away from the table. I stand up, ever so slowly, my heart racing in my chest. Advisca monitors me while I get to my feet and glance around with skewered bewilderment, surveying the hall that has become stock-still, the temple-goers and priests caught in motion like flies preserved in amber.

The voice that has been plaguing me since I've entered the Hall of Deep Focus... it is also mute.

"You... did you make everything like this?" I breathe, admiration jerking in my chest at the sight of a butterfly, coasting midair outside.

The redhead nods, maintaining the Level One Rapture Position. "Yes. When a Sage recites in Dedjurian or the Forgotten Tongue using their spiritual energy, in conjunction with their Rapture Position, it's called a configuration of magic. The one I just performed was the Fezenska Technique. It has limited range and physical drawbacks. For a beginner Sage, it is difficult to learn."

"That word... aterra? You said it before fezenska; what does it mean?"

"You don't miss anything, do you?" Our eyes clash in silence before she gives up a spirited shrug, "The legacy of Palloxe is based on his prestigious teachings. He wasn't a fan of cultivating magic that was affiliated with the language of the Cardinal Sages. That's why the recitation is not in Dedjurian, but in the Forgotten Tongue. He believed them to be a pompous lot. Sages in the past have repeatedly applied to become students of his, but due to their lack of aptitude, could not undertake his training. His expectations were high and very few have been able to learn the way of the Fezenska Technique - 'fezenska' is just another word for trap, and 'aterra' means to put up a wall, or a barrier."

I'm in awe. Her resolute calmness and charitable elaboration ring through me like a zap of energy, growing my passion for spiritual ascension. I lick my lips, somewhat excited, but that may just be a combination of my nerves mixed with Advisca's keenness.

I take my time to wrap my head around the Fezenska Technique. With minimal effort, she was able to quieten everything, to give herself a moment of peace within the Hall of Deep Focus. What a valuable skill to have, I muse to myself.

'Master Belsifear. Attempting the Fezenska Technique at this point in time might be dangerous for you.' Advisca cautions, 'There are easier recitations to begin with; starting with the language of the Forgotten Tongue is like running in a race before learning to walk!'

I ignore him. I will never know my limits if I don't define them for myself. I should at least experience the casting difficulty of the Fezenska Technique, that way I know how to improve my magic configurations under Master Totoya's tutelage.

Totoya simply knows my intentions without my verbal assent each time I want to do something. She drops her hands and waits for me to initiate the Fezenska Technique myself. The sounds of the world seeps back in, and I vividly hear everything once again, the illusionary magic kicking up once more.

She obviously withdrew her magic to allow me the chance to cast.

I do a less confident version of Palloxe Vienarti's Fezenska configuration but nothing happens. I wait and wait, my fingers shaking awkwardly above the table. My fingers are crossed just like Totoya's were. I had recited the same words.

Huffing out a breath, I shake out my hands from their position and try it again.

First Level Rapture Position.

The X is pressed across my chest. I double-check my fingers, and then proceed with a determined expression.

I push it outward, arms fully extended and then I let the X fall down, its shadow casting across the table in front of me.

I recite, "Aterra Fezenska," as I shove the X down.

It's a memorable formula of movements... What the hell went wrong?

"My dear student. Magic casting is more than just a set of gestures. When reciting, you must push your will into your words. Infuse your recitation with specific intention..."