Hope

“Hey, keeps, why did ya scribble ‘I am an ass’ on your wall?” the bubble interjected, stopping Irwyn from actually showing them. “Had I been made aware that thee was gonna be that bricky with such a confession I would’ve’d asked a gigglemug like you for dat earlier.”

“I was told that the entire nation might fall if I do not redraw this so-called ‘seal’ with my own blood,” Irwyn explained, though even he struggled a bit to understand what the bubble was saying. Is that how other people feel? At least no one tried to interrupt him like he had feared they might. The atmosphere had grown downright jovial but he was testing the waters whether that also extended to him. And he had to be careful, surrounded by powerful strangers.

“Seriously, keeps, that is what you are telling people nowadays?” a cabbage monster actually toppled over, laughing while chuckles sounded all around the place.

“I am really bored okay?” the deer huffed, tried to cross its arms and almost toppled over on the account of being a four-legged cervid. That only caused an additional eruption of laughter and giggles from the crowd. “Not a lot of people walk through here anymore. I need to get the most fun from whoever does!”

“She even implied a great necromancer was sealed here,” Irwyn chuckled along, expanding on the story. Unfortunately, the gathering suddenly grew silent at his comment. Well, judging by the stares those with visible eyes were giving the deer, Irwyn realized that part might not have been entirely made up.

“What... I was being really cryptic okay…” the deer suddenly looked guilty in a way that an animal really shouldn’t be capable of. It was the direct opposite of its unnaturally predatory anatomy.

“Was she?” the rose shrubbery asked, probably Irwyn.

“Well, the first forsaken and forgotten has to be the Betrayer, since his Name was obscured from history. And the kin to the betrayer has to be some kind of necromancer. Not to mention you called them a He.”

“Wait, a step back. You can tell ‘He’ from ‘he’?” the deer gaped.

“Well, yes?” Irwyn thought that was a given which, judging by the murmur in the crowd, it was not.

“It usually comes naturally to those with great magic,” the rose shrubbery explained, “However, your control over magic seems a bit… meager for that yet.”

“I understand well I am still lacking in terms of magic,” Irwyn nodded.

“Hey, you are pretty good for a human so young,” the carp probably tried to comfort him. “You are young right? For a human, I mean.”

“Yep, he do be. A decade passed he mayhaps could not properly even babble!” the soap bubble wobbled in confirmation. Am I the only one struggling?

“So we are actually standing above a…” Irwyn looked down. He felt nothing of the sort except the spike in heartbeat.

“No this is just a replica I built,” the deer quickly shook her head. “I obviously wouldn’t bring anyone to the place I am supposed to guard. Duh.”

“Wait. You built a replica of a ruin?” Irwyn asked before he could stop himself. It also brought the conversation away from the apparent slip by the deer.

“Well… maybe,” the deer broke eye contact again.

“She built four,” the smiling rock proclaimed with finality.

“I am really bored out here, okay?” the deer deflected

“That does not justify telling a mortal about the damn seal, you venison head!” the floating big leaf spoke, accompanied by an angry whistle.

“Watch it before I turn into a caterpillar and have you for a midnight snack.”

“I might be speaking from a place of ignorance but… why even seal a dangerous necromancer or whatever it is beneath here? It sounds like it has been here for a while, why not just destroy it?” the beings looked at each other after Irwyn’s question. They seemed hesitant. For a few moments there was actually silence.

“It’s fine to tell him,” the one who broke it was the sunflower.

“You sure, flowey?” the deer asked, surprised.

“Starfire is coursing through him at that young age. I can tell that much at least. And you all know that no one hates the undead more than the Stars. Anyone blessed by them will, inevitably, come to despise the undead, one way or another. Of course, if fatty wants to read his Fate and confirm that would be better.”

“Nah, nah and nah again,” a voice sounded from an empty space Irwyn had not paid any prior attention to. Except, it was not empty, not quite. The wind? But that also did not feel like it. “I ain’t touching that fucking shit with a ten-year pole. Someone scrambled the usual signs into an ungodly shitty mess. I don’t think the Fatereader could be bothered dealing with this cockery.”

“Do you know who meddled with your Fate?” the deer turned towards him, hungry with curiousity. Irwyn thought about it for the moment just to not give an insult but he obviously had no idea who would have possibly done that. As far as he remembered he had not met a Fate caster in his entire life. Yet saying 'no idea' was unlikely to satisfy his hosts. Just host? he was not sure.

“There is no need to answer,” the rose shrubbery stopped him. “My sisters here seem to be forgetting that some secrets are better to be oblivious to. We do, however, owe you an explanation for the promised entertainment,” Irwyn expected some pushback or comments but none of the other contradicted the shrubbery. In fact, they had stopped their bickering to let her speak. “Are you aware that when someone claims a Name they stop aging? Or what even a Name entails?”

“Yes, at least for the most part. I have read some old notes that spoke of the base nature of Names,” Irwyn nodded.

“Well, successfully claiming a Name has other benefits which are largely determined by the Names above the one that a mortal claims. For example, Names related to light are affected by Lumen and her healing so the Named closely related to light gain incredible regeneration and resistance to even the most powerful magical afflictions. The reason why the lich is sealed beneath this forest rather than just destroyed is also related to this. Can you guess from that much?

“Could it be…” Irwyn thought and the implication was both obvious and terrifying. “Could it be that those Named supplicant to the Betrayer cannot be truly killed?”

“Yes,” the shrubbery sighed with tangible emotion, perhaps sadness or maybe something complicated and forlorn that could not be described with just a single word. Or a hundred. “Anyone who becomes Named beneath the Betrayer’s aegis fuses their very soul into that Name. And all Names are by their very nature fundamentally indestructible. Though at least because of that necromancers have a much, much harder time becoming Named,” she explained. Irwyn connected it to what he had heard in the vision. Mortals could claim names but immortals had to forge them, or so it was said. He also noticed that the word ‘claim’ was deliberately not used by the shrubbery. Could it be that a name can only be claimed when the previous holder dies? Irwyn guessed. It would make intuitive sense. He thought about asking for a moment but decided it was not worth it to maybe anger them with potentially secret knowledge. That would just make them ask more questions.

“Okay, we have completely derailed this entire thing!” the deer spoke again. “I did not call you here to laugh at me but to look at this!” then the deer tried to point with a hoof towards the wall but in a way that deers were clearly not designed to do and nearly stumbled again. “Show them!” she commanded and Irwyn, under many curious kind-of-gazes, did. He redrew the shape and it twisted beyond recognition.

“What the fuck,” the empty space commented.

“Alright, I did not see that coming,” the floating fish admitted.

“Rocks my whole world view,” the literal rock said.

“Could you not?” asked the sunflower and not towards Irwyn.

“This is strange. I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it,” the rose shrubbery spoke after many comments and it surprisingly seemed to silence the chatter with even some mutters of surprise. Irwyn would guess that whatever hierarchy there possibly was, the rose shrubbery was high on it. “How have you done this?”

“It is not something conscious,” Irwyn grinned bitterly. “This just happens, whenever I try to write or do anything remotely close. I have seen pebbles roll away on a flat surface when I tried to kick them into shape. It extends to other things in my life as well: Anything tangible I physically create seems to fall apart. I have suspected it most likely also stretches to my magic, however, I have been hoping to somehow prove the opposite.”

“Is that a curse?” the fish asked.

“It doesn’t fucking feel like one,” the empty air replied.

“What did you feel, old sis?” the deer asked.

“The truth is, I did not glimpse anything,” the shrubbery said, then shook along with a chuckle. The others had gone strangely silent again. “All I can tell you is that it is almost certainly not a curse. Whatever affects you, it bears no malice nor intention to harm."

“If it’s not a curse it could be an oath; fatty?”

“Fucking hell,” the empty air cursed another time. “Yeah, I can kind of feel an oath now that I am looking for those signs. But it has to pact a metric shitton of power to alter stuff to this degree. But I’m not looking any deeper into it. I just bet that whoever messed with his fate is responsible for this too.”

“I have no memory of making such an… oath,” Irwyn said.

“And that might be intentional,” the shrubbery said. “If it can rewrite the world around you with such ease, there is no reason it couldn’t do the same to your mind.”

“Am I being affected?” Irwyn almost stumbled at the implication.

“Most likely not,” the shrubbery reassured. “If the oath was enforced by rewriting your mind it would not bother changing what you write; it would just make you incapable of writing.”

“It is, however, ironclad fucking unbreakable,” the empty air opinioned. “I have seen some oaths that make the participants mostly unable to break them rather than imposing a penalty but this goes several steps above that. If I weren’t scared shitless I would want to dissect this.”

“It is for the best we vanish such thoughts,” the shrubbery spoke again.

“Wait, does that mean that I will be unable to ever delve into enchanting?” Irwyn quickly cut in, his heart aching a bit. He had long suspected that may be the case, however, he had always held on to hope. The inability to create had always been less pronounced in his magic. As long as he kept his magic connected to him he could shape it, even form simple symbols with it. Even if that only applied as long as he applied direct connection to his magic, he had always hoped to one day be able to genuinely enchant. 'Extremely powerful restriction' did not lean towards that.

“Ye cur of folly, think not of what ain’t gonna happen,” the bubble interrupted him. "Prithee think for a fraction of a moment about how much time it would take ya. Mastering the intricate art of enchantment ain’t exactly lemon squeezy. It requires some pumpkins quantity of wealth and knowledge to just barely get started, man. Better be to utilize your gifts elsewise.”

“What she meant to say,” the deer translated. “Is that learning enchanting is a big commitment. So spending all that time and resources on yourself will be similar or even better in the end.”

“I suppose that is a good point,” Irwyn restrained his impulse to sulk. When he looked at it that way he truly had no idea where to get started with enchanting. If he could enchant and had spent years developing that skill rather than further improving his specialties, perhaps the recent crisis in Ebon Respite would have ended differently for him. He had another dozen questions on his lips, however, he did not get to ask them.

“Enough. We have already meddled overmuch. We have had our fun. it is late into the night and I am sure the young man has places to be tomorrow. Until next we meet, sisters” the shrubbery announced and no one dared contradict her. Especially not Irwyn. “fatty, if you would.”

Irwyn felt the sudden build-up of magic. The atmosphere was already dizzyingly dense with magic from everyone’s presence, however, the spike was still distinct, coming from that talking empty spot. Before Irwyn properly processed it he was already somewhere else.

“I believe this is just before where you were headed,” the voice of the rose shrubbery sounded right next to him. “Not much further and you should be out of the forest.”

“Thank you,” Irwyn fumbled, taken off guard by the complete change of scenery. He had clearly just been teleported with the casual nonchalance that defied his common sense. “May I ask one more question?”

“Be careful young man. Today was very much the exception, not the rule with us,” the voice spoke and Irwyn realised he could not see its form anywhere. “You have amused us and that shall be price enough for what you have learned. And I will allow exactly one more inquiry for I already know what you seek as well as that you already know the answer.”

“The Book of the Name. It mentions the immortal daughters of Vitaros, fickle tricksters known as the fae. Yet is that truly what you are? Because some of what I have seen would fit those stories perfectly yet some contradict them directly. I have read of shapes shifting with each breath and bargains both great and terrible, hidden behind devious schemes. But that is not what I have seen. Instead, I beheld the magic of many Aspects unlike the pure Life of the stories,” the curiosity was too great. He needed to know.

“Ah, of course. Rarely do we gather as so. As a sign of respect to one another as well to our guests we restrict ourselves to one form and to one nickname for a whole gathering. But perhaps this would be more up to your expectations?” as if to answer the question, the forest changed. In fact, there was suddenly no longer a forest but an orchard of giant roses of every colour and shape. They towered taller than even the trees; thorns thicker than Irwyn's arms sprouted from the ground and kept growing. In just a few seconds he found the smallest ones reaching above the clouds, completely cutting off the night sky. Then he stood in a desert, a hundred suns shining down on him. Then it was a land of salt covered in unnatural darkness of the void. The next one was so short Irwyn missed it completely, still reeling from the sensory overload. The one after Irwyn found himself drowning in the middle of the ocean, leviathans of the sea swimming past him.

Then he was back in the forest. Not particularly wet nor dry. No remnant of salt nor sand on his shoes. As if those places had never happened; because they never did.

“Remember that the Lifegiver is also the Deceiver. To deceive is to change and to live is to deceive. Shape is a suggestion and even magic itself can be fooled. Hope I will still be as generous the next time we meet,” the voice ceased and then there was silence, only the background noise of the woods remained.

Irwyn took a few minutes to collect himself, still dazed. With his first step he tripped over his backpack that he was relatively certain hadn’t been there when he raised his foot. When he got up he found the dirt path, right next to a marking telling him which direction to go. He found himself leaving the woods at dawn, a full day sooner than he had expected, his head full of thoughts and impressions. Those might stay with him for the rest of the journey.