Journal Entry Fourth Sun, Seventh Cycle, Twelfth Age
The Journal of Celestial Mage Kadmus Castro
Fourth Sun, Seventh Cycle, Twelfth Age
Another group of mages arrived this week.
I sincerely hope they’re the last newcomers we’ll see for some time, though I know that’s wishful thinking, especially with the Hallow Stream still undiscovered and our magic remaining volatile enough to pique the interest of more and more mages willing to risk the journey for the sake of their studies.
It’s not my field of expertise, but even I continue to be intrigued by the way ellixen works here.
One day, it’ll be quiet, pensive, submissive, and the next—chaos.
I overheard one of the nature mages, Saskia Cilla, offering a theory.
She proposed that, while it’s widely known that the three Hallow Streams generate and release magic into our world—into the air, into the earth, into every space and creature in between—here on Elverdine Isle, the lack of warding around the Stream means there’s a polarity about the way it flows.
She used a gravity metaphor, saying it’s like dropping a stone and expecting it to fall swiftly downward, but instead, the raw, unwarded magic acts like a magnetizing force that causes the stone to fly in numerous different, unpredictable directions.
As mages, most of us draw from our own inner stores of ellixen to perform magical acts, so if Saskia’s theory is correct, then the moment we summon it for a task, it immediately meets and clashes with the Stream’s erratic, polarizing power.
Our stones aren’t falling, they’re flying—and we have no control over where they go.
I think her idea holds merit, but I also believe it goes beyond that, to the amount of raw power the Hallow Stream emits.
Without any natural wards, there’s no limit to how much magic it releases across the isle.
Polarized or not, it’s becoming harder to ignore just how potent it is—and how good it feels—especially when it’s in a cooperative mood.
Unfortunately, it remains too fickle to rely upon.
While frustrating, I can’t help finding it amusing sometimes, like when I’m conjuring water for my morning cup of tea and I end up soaked from head to toe.
It’s almost as if the magic is mischievous.
But then it will take a turn toward spite, and entire buildings will implode.
Literally.
That happened yesterday, right in the heart of the swiftly expanding town.
Mercifully, there were no casualties, but still…
it seems inevitable that something disastrous will eventually occur, with so many mages now here and so much magic being used—particularly by the fabricator mages performing their architectural augmentations.
Thanks to them, the once-quaint settlement of Aravell is becoming more like a city every day.
They’ve even begun to carve out space beneath the lake and inside the mountains, their innovative vision for citywide expansion as awe-inspiring as ever.
Magistratus Garrin and most of Elverdine’s shallows continue to be grateful for our presence here and the advancements we’re providing, but while I know we are improving their lives, a small part of me hopes the population never grows enough to need all the space the fabricator mages are creating.
This isle has been left alone for so long that its beauty has remained largely untouched. It’s a haven. A sanctuary.
And maybe we’re at risk of ruining that.
It’s only going to get worse now that a meddlesome alchemist mage has arrived.
Tephryn Alemedes. She graduated from ICOMA a few years behind me, and though we’ve never met, everyone knows that only the most elite mages are invited to study at the Imperia College of Magical Arts.
I’m already dreading what her plans are for her time here and the experiments she intends to attempt.
May the Elders help us all.