Journal Entry Forty-Eighth Sun, Fifth Cycle, Twelfth Age
The Journal of Celestial Mage Kadmus Castro
Forty-Eighth Sun, Fifth Cycle, Twelfth Age
My ritual at the Midnight Festival was a roaring success.
Magistratus Garrin attended, along with other curious Elverdine shallows, all of whom were astounded when I drew power from the eclipse to amplify their normally limited stores of ellixen.
Temporary or not, the magical boost will aid them in many ways, from increasing their strength and energy to swifter healing for their illnesses and injuries.
It’s nowhere near the amount of power we mages have, but for shallows, the difference is substantial, even if it lasts only a few days.
To say they worship me is an understatement, though I’ve made it clear that, as their Mage Priest, I am merely their humble servant.
That is my calling, my purpose, my honor in life—to help those less fortunate than me.
Hopefully word will spread and more shallows will come to the next ritual, one that falls in a fortnight upon the arrival of the Draconis meteor shower.
I must admit, being here on Elverdine is a breath of fresh air.
The residents haven’t yet developed magical prejudice, which means they don’t consider celestial magic a “useless” or “lesser” craft, unlike those on the mainland.
Back there, only the major celestial events are celebrated by the populace anymore: both equinoxes and solstices, the twilight sun, the advent moon, and the rare comet or conjunction.
But even those are more about jollification than sanctification these days.
It hasn’t always been this way, though. In ages past, celestial magic was so revered that my Priest forebears were performing rituals every month, sometimes every week, with shallows attending in droves to reap the favor of our blessings and purifications.
But now…it’s not only the mages on the mainland who reject the power of the heavens, but also the shallows, as if they’ve resigned themselves to a feeble—shallow—existence.
On Elverdine Isle, however, there’s a thrilling hunger for more. The residents have been secluded for too long, isolated from mages and the vast possibilities of our magic. Their desire for what I can offer as their Mage Priest only rouses my commitment toward them.
Zeranthe says I need to be careful not to let their adoration go to my head.
She also keeps reminding me of how capricious magic is here, something the native dragons have cautioned her and the other magebonded dragons about, given our proximity to the unwarded—and still unlocated—Hallow Stream.
But their warnings are unnecessary. Despite my initial concerns, I had no trouble controlling my ellixen at the lunar eclipse.
Indeed, it was almost too easy. And while I did feel different after the ritual was complete, it wasn’t a bad different. Just…different.
Better.
Stronger.
More powerful.
I haven’t told Zeranthe. I know she can sense something unusual through our bond, but she already acts like a grumpy mother hen, and I don’t want to incite a worried lecture.
It’s likely what I’m feeling is simply the residual power drawn from the eclipse.
It’ll fade from my body, just as it’ll fade from the shallows I bestowed it upon.
Celestial magic is fleeting; it always has been.
Though…I can’t help wondering if maybe it doesn’t have to be.
Perhaps things will be different on Elverdine. Perhaps my closeness to the Hallow Stream will change everything I’ve ever known about celestial magic. Maybe even about all magic.
It seems as if anything might be possible here.