Journal Entry Forty-First Sun, Fifth Cycle, Twelfth Age
The Journal of Celestial Mage Kadmus Castro
Forty-First Sun, Fifth Cycle, Twelfth Age
Elverdine Isle is beautiful.
I was told it would be—warned, in fact, about its splendor, and how easily it distracts from the danger all but humming in the air.
It’s hard not to be enthralled, though, when half the island is covered in lush, verdant forests and the other half with rolling fields that lead to three majestic mountains rising high above the clearest lake I’ve ever seen.
Even Zeranthe is impressed—something she grudgingly admitted as we circled the island upon our arrival, inspecting our new home from every angle.
The flight across the Ametrine Sea took eight hours, but my loyal companion’s wings never failed, her energy never waned, and while she remains cantankerous as always, I know she’s as eager as I am to begin our new lives here.
She’s already found the perfect place to roost in one of the mountains with the other dragons, while I’ve settled in nicely to my lakeside cottage in the quaint township of Aravell, nestled at the base of the three peaks.
Magistratus Garrin Solace, elected leader of Elverdine’s inhabitants, welcomed me with open arms on my first day, telling me how honored they are to have a Mage Priest in residence.
He’s a shallow, like everyone else who has ever lived on the isle—until recently—so I know his reverence is genuine.
The few mages who arrived just before me, however…
Much like on the mainland, my calling isn’t appreciated by my magical brethren here, who roll their eyes and openly scoff at me.
But no matter—I’m used to their mockery.
Those who suffer scorn reap integrity. And besides, I didn’t come here for them.
It’s the shallows who need me, having never had access to a Mage Priest before.
Oh, the wonders they’ll experience at my hands.
They’ll soon see for themselves the kind of power I can grant, especially with the first celestial event of the season on the horizon: a lunar eclipse.
I’ll be performing a rite of blessing at the Midnight Festival, assuming my magic acclimatizes to the island in time—though that in itself is a peculiar uncertainty, something I’ve never had to navigate before.
Now that I’m here, I’m fascinated by how my ellixen is reacting to the raw power saturating the isle.
It’s common knowledge that magic is alive, but it’s much more temperamental here than anywhere else I’ve ventured.
Back on the mainland, magic is easier. It’s more flexible, more willing to please, more obedient.
Here, it’s none of those things. It’s almost…
wild. Today alone I nearly burned my cottage down when lighting my fireplace, while yesterday I could barely manage a spark, my ellixen resisting me at every turn.
I was warned this would be the case. It’s the reason mages have avoided visiting Elverdine over the ages, and never before lived here.
The magic…it’s volatile. Dangerous. Until recently, no one understood why, just that it wasn’t safe for us.
But now we have an answer: Somewhere on this isle is a lost Hallow Stream.
It’s astounding—for so long we believed there were only two sacred pools fueling our world with magic, when really there were three.
The scholar mages were in raptures when they translated the Elder texts unveiling the third’s existence, all of them desperate to travel here, find it, and study it, risks be damned.
And there are risks. The two other Hallow Streams are both on the mainland and surrounded by natural wards that protect the populace, but the one here…there’s no barrier between us and the ellixen flooding out of it, nothing forcing all that power to submit to our demands.
The magic—it’s so strong I can almost taste it.
I can’t yet tell if it’s playful or spiteful, if it wants to help or to hurt.
What I can tell is that it’s intoxicating, perilously so.
Mages throughout history have been right to avoid this place, even to fear it, because that kind of power…
if there were ever a way to tap into it, to control it…
To yield to such temptation would only end in death.
I, however, am unconcerned, since I have no intention of risking my life over anything as meaningless as a lust for more magic.
I’m here for one reason: to act as a representative of the Celestial Order—chosen by His Eminence, the Celestial Mage Lord himself—to offer my services as a Mage Priest to the shallows.
I will enlighten them. I will empower them. And they will love me for it.
Unfortunately, as the only celestial mage willing to travel here, I find myself alone in having to tolerate the rest of my brethren arriving from the mainland—not just the scholar mages fixated on finding the Hallow Stream, but also the fabricator mages, enchanter mages, elemental mages, healer mages, augmenter mages, and many others, all with grand ideas for the isle’s evolution, including expanding the tranquil town into an elaborate city.
Part of me loathes their arrogant supremacy, but…
while I might not like the domineering ways they utilize their magic, even I can acknowledge that our being here will improve life for the shallows.
The things we can do…It’s a simple fact that we mages are the superior species.
Magistratus Garrin accepts this, as do many of his people.
They are grateful for our appropriation of their isle and eager to see how we can help them advance.
As for the rest of Elverdine’s inhabitants…
well, the sooner they accept us, the happier they’ll be.
And for their sake—and mine—at least there are no alchemist mages here yet, with their inquisitive minds and reckless experiments.
Elders help us all when one of them arrives.
I know it’s only a matter of time—the raw magic of the Hallow Stream will be too great a temptation for them to resist, along with the intrigue of this new land and its people. I can attest to that myself.
One thing is sure: Elverdine Isle is a blank page, full of uncertainty—and overflowing with opportunity.
What a grand adventure this shall be.