“In the same connection, the essences leech on your strongest emotions to boost their strength. Your only protection is control. The Eye offers that by limiting the effect the essences have on your mind. You can then safely alter the amount of sela and emotions you feed them. It’s a precarious balance, but be warned, once you’ve broken the cycle, by Forging outside the Eye’s influence, there’s no return.”
“Why not simply refuse to feed them but take their power anyway?”
“The results of not feeding are detrimental to you and them. Not only do you still go insane, but they lose a part of themselves forever, a part that cannot be regained. The only time that changes is when you Forge solely using your Etchings. The effect is lessened but it has its own drawbacks, ones not worth explaining right now.” Ryne gestured all around them. “For now, most of your Forges will be outside your Etchings. If you don’t feed the essences at some point soon after, then the world suffers. The fabric that holds all together unravels in miniscule amounts. It may not happen immediately, but eventually, the effects show. The land become unstable, storms grow worse, all manner of disasters can occur. Think of Ostania’s great thunderstorms. They are the result of such an imbalance, as are all manner of extraordinary creatures. The essences need us to live as much as we need them. This is what we call the Harmonies. You must learn to walk that edge or perish.”
Ancel recalled where he read about the Harmonies. He recited the piece as if it were second nature.
“When comes the appointed hour,
Under the rule of the one with Etchings of Power,
Stone will crumble,
The void shall rumble,
Clouds will grow,
Water shall flow,
Light and shade as one,
Fire and ice as one,
Denestia shall bend to its knee,
Until the elements exist in Harmony.”
This time, when Ryne stopped, his eyes were wide with wonder. “Where did you learn that?”
“The Chronicle of Undeath. My father owns a copy.”
“Not a copy. There’s only one such tome, and it cannot be copied.”
“How would you know?” Ancel asked.
“I wrote it, and I Forged the wards that protect it.”
“But it’s said to be centuries or more old.”
“Thousands, actually. In one of my many lives, I decided to write much of what I knew, much of my dreams. Many of the other Eztezians did the same. Bits of memory, dreams, histories, all within one Chronicle or another. Mine detailed sela in particular. I named the book Undeath because sela is neither living nor dead; it is both. Slain men and creatures stand up and walk due to its power.”
“Can you teach me the rest of the Chronicle?”
“One day,” Ryne said, “but be warned, the Chronicles are not always what they seem. Keep that in mind. More than one Matus claimed to know how to harness harmony. All of them died. In fact, I killed one myself.
“Now, back to the Eye. Hopefully, you have a clearer understanding of why you must remain under its influence when Forging. Even those not strong enough to communicate with the essences are still affected by them.”
Ancel nodded. “That, I found out from Kachien also. It’s the reason for the Pathfinders. They hunt whoever loses control.”
“As much as I disagree with what they do, it’s necessary,” Ryne said.
“Should I be in the Eye when I see auras around people?”
Ryne smiled. “I’m glad you asked. No. Since you’re new to your power, they may appear now at either extreme of emotion, but eventually they’ll be as natural as breathing and always with you. They’re different for those who can sense them. I couldn’t begin to tell you how to discern who means well from who means harm. You learn that on your own.”
“I already have,” Ancel said.
“Very good. One thing to consider is that the auras are more than just signs to tell of a thing’s intentions. The same way your body and mind are conduits so additional Mater can pass into you, there must be something to keep the essences in. To store them. A Matii’s aura does that. A strong enough aura prevents Mater from leaving. Forgers eventually learn to manipulate that storage. It’s what limits your power normally. You can’t just draw on the essences and use them. They must pass through you first into the same pool you use for the Eye.”
Ancel nodded. “So if we’re as strong as you say how is it that we can’t defeat the Skadwaz once and for all?”
“In ways,’ Ryne said, “they are our opposites, Matii enhanced by Amuni to combat our Etchings. They possess their own way of wielding Mater, at times better than we do.”
Ancel found the revelation difficult to fathom. “How’s that possible?”
“Because they were made with a closer connection to the shade than humanly possible. I doubt I could consider them human or even of the Nether. Like the world Amuni created for them, they fall somewhere between.”
Ancel took it all in before asking, “Ryne?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever Forged outside of the Eye?”
“Yes. Many times.”
Ancel was speechless. First, Kachien and her suffering at the whim and need of the essences, and then losing his mother. Now, Ryne. How cruel could life be? He embraced his Matersense and waited. But no voices echoed in his head with promises of power. I don’t care how long it takes me, I’ll find a way to master you, every single one of you.
A whisper rose then, but instead of words, he swore he heard brushes of mocking laughter.
“I shall be blunt with you,” Ryne said, breaking Ancel from his thoughts. “There may come a time you will be tempted to do the same. In those cases, always draw on your Etchings first. Right now, you worry about shadelings, daemons, maybe even the Skadwaz, but there are far worse things that walk world.”
Chapter 14
Ryne walked alongside his ward in silence, shortening his steps so he would not outpace the young man. Ancel’s lack of response to his revelation said he understood the implications. Ryne let out a breath. When he’d recited the Tenets and Principles, and unleashed the Etching of the Guardians to save Castere, he broke the seal keeping Denestia’s essences at bay. In turn, his actions resumed the effects of his impending madness. The process was irreversible.
Bertram, or Voliny, as he called himself, had given him little choice. The man had been an Eztezian. Bertram’s history trance proved as much. Now, he was dead. Another Eztezian dead. One more guardian gone. Ryne shook his head in resignation.
Who held such power as to be able to control one such as himself and Bertram? Surely, it could not be a Skadwaz. A netherling maybe, but that helped prove the contract no longer bound them.
Did the Nine finally walk the land? He frowned. For millennia, there had been factions among the netherlings: those in support of the gods’ release, those who thought man should govern themselves, and those who sought to become gods. The latter was the Nine. The major battles between them had always remained in the Nether and Hydae, while they manipulated people to do their bidding. Until now, it appeared. Although Ancel had unleashed the power gathered by their use of the Iluminus sects and constant war, the essences still weren’t strong enough to usurp the gods. Not yet. Still, at the rate events were spiraling, not many stood between the Nine and their advent into Denestia, if one or two of them weren’t here already.