The Journal of Quil Grove

ONE

 

I was giving a tour when I noticed something was horribly wrong. It was a mixed group, some Brenara, some locals, and some Vikkid. The reptilians were relatively new to Anslara, and very quiet. Perhaps overwhelmed. Their patterned eyes are a mystery to me. However, the Brenara, three women and a man, asked me many questions, and it was these questions that led me to the terrifying realization. We were in the central annex (a ridiculous name I have petitioned to have changed, to no luck) when one of the women asked me what the minor node was. I launched into my explanation, well rehearsed throughout the years of giving these offworlder exhibitions. When it came time for my demonstration, I walked out over the half pane that graces this small crossing. I should have noticed the lack of light, but I did not. I drew up a basic harvest, intending to use a small bit of energy to make the lights flash and the air crackle, as I had found served to adequately impress guests. And I felt… nothing. Nothing at all. Looking down I then noticed no telltale white light. The node was completely black darkness, the crossing gone. 

​

That poor tour group! I left them where they stood, dumbfounded as nothing happened, and I ran out of the room. I hope someone found them and they did not wander for too long. Or god forbid, wait in that room for my return. Nothing to be done now, and there was little to be done about it then. My alarm was too great. My alarm remains too great. It is the ninth that crosses with an offshoot of the fourth in that room. It took some frantic running, some bursting into student practice rooms and classrooms alike, but I narrowed it down, and my fears were realized. The ninth ley line has disappeared. Well… disappeared is not the word. We do not look at them, we perceive their constant stream of cosmic energy from which comes the power for all magic. Ceased is a more apt description. The ninth ley line has ceased to release this energy. A rift still exists, like an echo of a thunderclap, but there is no sound, no light. No power.

​

I have already approached the council. They listened to my concerns and sent fourth years to investigate. I do not think they take it seriously enough. Only fourth years. No mages. And then they told me to calm down! To calm down! I cannot believe how one could be calm. I continued to look for myself. If they reprimand me for it, so be it. What I found was the same everywhere. Any minor crossing involving the ninth has gone. Major crossings remain, but I attempted a harvest at annex eight, where the third, fifth and ninth all crossed. I could be mistaken, but it felt weaker. More similar to a minor crossing than it should have. I must acknowledge that this could be in my head; it has been a long day and I am tired. However the fact remains that the ninth line has gone dark. Dried up. My anxiety is great, and it has not allowed me to rest for a long time. No answers are to be found, and my brain burns fuzzy with fatigue. I will make sense of this in the morning. I pray all magic has not died when I wake.

 

TWO

 

As of yet, none of the other ley lines have ceased. This is little comfort for me, as in the same breath, it must be noted the ninth has not returned. It remains dark, a cord of hollowness from whence life once sprung, now ghastly in its emptiness. The cause is completely unknown. It is being theorized at this very moment that the ley lines, once thought inexhaustible, are kegs that can be kicked. I do not know how much I believe in this. I have subscribed to the theory that ley lines give off energy as a cycle. Expending that same energy in the form of magic sends it somewhere. I’ve taught entry level students, for many years, that Titan’s ley lines are rifts directly to this somewhere. The study of ley lines has never been my focus, but I have been aware of the discourse, aware of the theories. Enough so that I am capable of comprehending the dangers of such an event. Enough so that, perhaps, I am blinded by bias. It is not my job, per say, to be concerned over this. One of eleven is not disastrous. But it is hardly a mild inconvenience. Buildings will be constructed differently, towns will be shifted and people will move. There is plenty of room for life around the other ten lines. Unless, of course, more cease.

 

THREE

 

I have been to see professor Thaddeus. I have always held a liking for the man. It takes a special kind of courage to be a non mage living and working among mages. My personal studies have been driven forward not least in part due to frustration with the council’s lackluster response. I would be hesitant to say that they do not take this issue seriously, rather they are overly concerned with the fallout, rather than the cause. I ran up against a wall when it came to our understanding of ley lines before our planet was moved into the void’s ominous shadow. Thadd was more than helpful. I did not know he had been focusing his studies on pre-Moving topics. It was quite convenient.

​

I wanted whatever I could get on ley lines before the Moving. I was surprised to learn there wasn’t that much. He had some records, the Arcanium had existed before of course, but the information on the ley lines themselves was sparse at best. The study of them seemed to have begun post Moving and at a slow rate. Not many who advanced far enough into the intricacies of magic to have the ability to study the lines chose to do so. There was little glory to be had. We got talking about the Moving itself. I wondered if old Thadd believed in the generally accepted theory of the void creating a distortion in space, with this distortion serving as a sort of magnetic force, pulling large masses toward itself. Slip into a rupture in space, some portal or bridge, and more than likely you wind up in our cluster of void orbiting planets. Thaddeus said it doesn’t sit right with him, the whole Moving being a cosmic accident. I tended to agree.

 

But I get away from myself. He had something for me after all, something I want to record while it is still fresh in my mind. We got to talking about the perception of the ley lines pre-Moving. While the study of them was not recorded, there were plenty of records that discussed them. From these documents Thaddeus had drawn up a few general narratives about how our ancestors felt when it came to the most important natural feature of our planet. Our predecessors at the Arcanium, to no surprise, saw them in much the same way we do now. That they are gifts, born of Titan’s unique nature. And we have a right, a duty, to make use of them. As it is today, that seemed to be the most commonly held perception. There was however, another view that Thaddeus mentioned offhandedly. A different group that gained peculiar prominence in the years leading up to the Moving. There had always been small groups of dissidents, but none too large or too popular. Except for this one. 

​

The name had been lost, but through common references Thaddeus had pieced together the existence of this one influential group. He described it as a cult. Logically, the most common belief to oppose the fair use of the ley lines was the belief that we abuse their power. That they are not something for us and their manipulation is a perversion of nature. This cult was thought to be an offshoot of that idea, with some core differences. They believed in a second, different kind of magic. A balance to the energy wielded by us true mages. And here is where it got interesting. That thought put me in mind of void mages and I said as much to Thadd. But he pointed out that there were no void mages before the Moving. It would have been impossible, there were no anomalies present on Titan before we arrived in the cluster. Yet, there are tales of these cultists using magic. A different magic. Thaddeus was impressed with how fast I made the jump. Clerics. He proposed that this cult was where the legend of the third type of magicians came from. They were said to have worshiped a ‘god of the void’, from whom they received their power. I asked him if this group would have wanted to destroy the ley lines. He admitted he would not know. They seemed more opposed to their usage than their existence. And the cult had died out soon after the Moving. Supposedly they had predicted an apocalypse, and while the planet itself blinking through an unknown expanse of space was disconcerting, it had not ended the world. 

​

I should record that Thaddeus preceded all this information with the warning that none of this was verifiable, and the sources, particularly around the time of the Moving, are limited and often contradictory. Disclaimer in place, I will admit I have decided my next course of action: To discover whatever I can about this cult. 

 

FOUR

 

They said they were all gone and yet I have found one. It took many nights waiting in seedy spots to meet unsavory individuals, yet I have done it! A member of the cult, here in Anslara! Let me back up. I look back and see my last entry was about my discussion with the council. [The entry Quil refers to here was blacked out and unrecoverable] After our discussion, I continued my hunt. Their decision was a mistake, as noted before, but as a true mage of the Arcanium I still have the freedom to pursue what I wish. After many days of pouring over tomes, scrolls and compendiums, and with much help from old Thadd, I found a name: Motia. The cult’s ‘god of the void’. They had referred to themselves as the disciples of Motia, and claimed he was the source of their power and the harbinger of destruction, the one that would punish the Fian people for their perversions of the universal energies given to us by Titan. Thaddeus was impressed with my detective work. The connection was not easy to make, and until recently I wondered if I had made it in error. But I did not. I found one! A disciple of Motia. My historian friend was not wrong, the cult died out soon after the Moving. But their ways have persevered. Their beliefs as well.

​

There was nothing pleasant about the meeting. I still do not know if it was a him or her, or something else. My search took me to lower north nust. Not a part of town an upstanding scholar likes to find himself. The cultist was passing as a mystic, selling fortunes on the side of the street. When I entered its booth I was met with a curse. I had not worn my robes, yet it knew what I was. Obscenities flew from its mouth, and had I not recognized multiple invocations of the name Motia, I would have considered myself hopelessly lost. Instead I composed myself long enough to listen to the evil words thrown my way. That I would pay for my abuse of the essence of the world was most of it. But the cultist confirmed nearly all my worries with one sentence: “It will not stop with one. Eleven there were and zero there will be.” A street urchin would not know of the ninth’s cessation. That event has become the Arcanium’s most guarded secret. I tried to question the cultist, but was met with more curses and spit. I considered the use of force, but must confess such a display of hostility remains beyond me. I let the broken thing gather up and leave, all the while spewing hate in my direction. Perhaps I will regret that.

​

I wish I could go to the council with my findings. As it is, I have come to a decision. I must know more. And Titan is exhausted. There is nothing else in the libraries of the Arcanium I have not scoured. My search must continue elsewhere. Tomorrow I will look for a cosmare on which I can secure passage. I have spent the last week filling a few conduits. Hopefully it will be enough. I have to inform Thaddeus of my intentions. He has been a true friend to me.

 

FIVE

 

I have been on Celara for half a cycle. I suppose I could have predicted my quest would start here. While Titan continues work on a series of large stables, the home of the cosmares remains the nexus of interplanetary travel. If I had postponed my journey I may have been able to start with one of the closer planets, Abyssaros or Nyoxria, though I decided that I could not wait. It is no large delay, an initial long journey, the trips will be shorter now as I work my way backwards. 

​

The planet of the Brenara is a wondrous place. Its three moons greet visitors as dancing celestial sentinels, revolving around a world greener than any I knew could exist. Life like I have never seen it. It is humid and the air always feels sticky. This heat and moisture produces a flourish of creatures, not least of which being their great winged beasts. A great canopy of forest stretches as far as the eye can see, concealing the bark, which is a brilliant amber color. Their cities are simple things, built into groves, tied up into the trees in beautiful architecture, the elegance complimented by the grace with which the Brenara exist in harmony with their nature. They were not untouched by their Moving, and have several scars on their land caused by shifts in gravitational energies. However, all in all they are a very welcoming people, bright and energetic, and it is no surprise to me why they have made themselves the explorers of the cluster. Being here puts me in mind of the late great professor Vesna, who fought hard for Titan’s senate to rule these good people. Her prediction of their arrival was unsettling, it is true, but an invasion hardly seems necessary. Still, to think she had it voted on (and against) three times. Three times! She died and the movement faded away. People wonder if she was murdered. I see no reason for conspiracy. She was ancient, even by Fian standards.

​

I find my own age causing my thoughts to wander, as I fill three pages with ramblings. To business with what I have discovered: 

​

There is no ley line magic on this planet. Titan remains unique in its birth of true mages. There are one or two void mages among their people, but they are treated with distrust, and are said to be hermits. There is no talk of clerics of any form. I have listened to many legends, and the Brenara are great storytellers, but legends they seem to be, not disguised histories. 

​

Celara has many religions, her people as free with their thoughts as with their actions. They keep some records, though not nearly as meticulously as we do in the Arcanium. Thankfully their Moving is a much more recent memory than ours and so some still speak of the times before. After much effort, I have been able to uncover a few cult-like religions that existed pre-Moving. Unfortunately, without the thread of hate toward true magic, there is little to use when sifting between them. I have sketched out the details of those I found most interesting on the following pages. [These pages were ripped out, seemingly by Quil himself]

​

I will continue to Lysar once I have found a captain willing to take me. I have not had to use any magic yet and my conduits remain full. I was concerned that taking them from Titan would tamper with their potency. This fear is so far unfounded.

 

SIX

 

Going from Celara to Lysar was a bit of a shock. The most recent addition to our cluster, it is most ravaged by void energies. A smallish planet, miniscule when compared to a giant like Nyoxria, large rifts have opened along the surface, extensive chasms and ravines that seem so deep as to lead into the depths of the core itself. There is a disturbing lack of wildlife, flora and fauna alike. Many of the native species that remain have turned to scavenging, and often predatory behavior, to eek out a living from the now sparse resources. This makes for a harsh environment with a promise of hostility that gives the whole place a tense, tight feeling. Since arriving I have not seen a city, merely camps that remind one eerily of refugee outposts. Talking with my captain, an older Brenara by the name of Baalam, I learned this is not a coincidence. The Lysari left are all country folk. In a strange stroke of horrible luck, all of the major cities were swallowed into the erupting canyons. There was death and destruction the likes of which I can scarcely imagine. The Brenara have been seeking to help the native Lysari adjust to their new reality, though understandably they are still reeling from the chaotic event. At first I was of a mind to let Baalam leave without me, as he was engaged in a supply run for some friends of his, and would not be staying more than a few days. However, after seeing the place with my own eyes, I’ve decided there is little these people can do for me. Besides, pestering them after such a tragedy does not feel right. I will continue with Baalam back off world, thanking whatever universal power exists that Titan was spared such horrors during its own Moving.

 

Curse you, my past carelessness! Curse you for not seeing it sooner! [This sentence was scrawled in frantic script by Quil at a different time than the original entry]

 

SEVEN

 

We have continued to Binoth. I had heard of this wet planet in passing. Most commonly described as Titan’s landscape with Abyssaros’s weather. I would not say the flatness of it reminds me of home, however it has certainly never stopped raining. I am much more fascinated with the Inoth, one of whom I had never met before. They vary dramatically in size, from twice my height to half, and everywhere in between. Their skin is oily and smooth, naturally resistant to the constantly assaulting precipitation of their homeworld, and often patterned as well. I wanted to ask if the intricate designs are naturally occurring, or something they tattoo at an early age, but I didn’t wish to offend. Their limbs are long and strong, with webbed feet and hands specially suited for their lake dotted flatlands. I am surprised they have not made it to the Arcanium yet, and earnestly invited those Baalam introduced me too. They seemed a bright people, a quick intelligence clear in their protruding, bulbous eyes. In my days of talking with them I have come to respect their character, even if the results of our conversations have been frustrating and mysterious.

​

The Inoth are a nature focused people. They do not practice organized religion and frankly did not seem to understand the concept. When I tried to ask about a god or gods, I was met with confused stares that resulted in me looking for new translations, before finally having to explain the idea of higher powers themselves. This led to exclamations of understanding, and the locals I was with suddenly wished to take me somewhere. I thought this was a breakthrough, until I found myself looking at a rather large lake, the locals pointing with a certain amount of tactful patience, like how I might have looked at a child. But the lack of a cult of the void is not all.

​

Binoth has cosmic energy. I hesitate to call them ley lines. ‘Ley points’ is more accurate. ‘Ley springs’ a better image. There are a plethora of these locations throughout the world. I was able to visit a few, riding the large amphibious rainfrogs that the Inoth use to travel rapidly across their planet. I was able to confirm their nature when I did so. I performed a short harvest incantation and found these fonts of energy are similar to the nodes present on Titan, though there is no clear cause of their focus. And they are untamed, untapped. I will emphasize what I mean: there are no true mages on Binoth. The Inoth have not discovered the most basic of manipulations. This fascinates me as much as it confounds me. I do not doubt the Inoth have the mental capabilities to be mages. Yet they have never sought to unravel the secrets of the power that comes out of their planet. Not only that, but they show a level of disinterest for the springs that borders on insanity. When I tried to explain what it was they had, what it was that lay beneath their feet, they essentially shrugged. As if to say ‘that’s not for us’!

​

This leads to an unforeseen hindrance. I assumed should I find other power, there would be true mages present. And from these brothers I would be able to ask my questions and receive fast, if not necessarily illuminating, answers. Now I find something around which my questions abound, yet there is no one present to answer them. What answers I do receive from the Inoth are more cryptic than they are useful. There is no catalog of the energy springs, and some I have talked to claim they disappear and reappear, as unpredictable as moles. It is hard to contain my frustration. If not exactly similar, these phenomena are distinctly related to that event which kicked off my journey. Being able to see the path to progress, yet having it remain impassable, is enough to drive any man mad.

​

I have decided I must stay a bit longer. There is more research I wish to conduct. Baalam is moving on, of which I am regretful, though he assures me that Brenara come to the world often for trade, and that I will not have long to wait. He made a joke that should I get tied up in study, his rounds take a cycle, so if I wish to ride his cosmare again I must only wait a standard year. I appreciate his sentiment, though I do intend to wrap up soon enough to catch the next captain off world. I cannot delay. There is this sense of importance, this sense of drive that builds on the back of my brain. It feels as if I am amassing a great many pieces, and should I merely fit them together in the right order all will be made clear. 

 

EIGHT

 

We cannot land on Vicas. The Vikkid have closed their planet to cosmare travel and all visitors. I think of the tall reptilians that were there with me the day the ninth ceased and wonder what could have driven them to cut themselves off from their neighbors. Whatever it is, it cannot be good. I tried to persuade my new captain, a hard Brenara woman by the name of Sabrin, to try and barter her way on. She would not hear it. She said, with undisguised shortness, the Vikkid would butcher us on the spot. Vicas was one of my more anticipated stops and my disappointment persists. There is nothing else to be said. We continue on to Kelvolv. 

 

NINE

[This entry was fragmented, missing the normal description of the planet and its people that Quil tends to begin with]

​

They have too many. It is a web of dogma the start of which I cannot root out! Kelvolv’s religions are as intricate as they are abundant. From what I can follow they have a few distinct faiths that worship a great many deities. One of these is a ‘god of the void’ but it bears no resemblance to the Motia described by the Titan cult. And there are so many others. It is but a footnote in the grander experience that is their worship. The pre-Moving distinction is no help, their religions having existed in equal strength before their Moving as they do after. What at first presented to me as a knot needing to be untangled, has now turned into a hopeless web of interconnectivity. This combined with the fact that Kelvolv has no true mages, nor any ley lines has led me to decide to continue on. Sabrin informed me she would be leaving after twelve days, and it has been eleven since our arrival. We have a shared next stop of Abyssaros, it will be convenient if I can find her in time.

 

TEN

 

The sea people have been little help. I assumed Abyssaros, as one of the original three planets next to Titan and Nyoxria, would be developing more in line with its brothers. The Krakari are, however, slow in their reception to visitors. Sabrin was helpful in giving me the short history of the ocean world’s contact with outsiders. The Brenara came with their cosmares, as they have to every planet they could, to find that there was nowhere to land. After flying around the world multiple times, and through the attempts of multiple explorers, they finally observed a few bare rocks revealed periodically by the tide. They landed on one of these, intending to explore the surrounding depths, only to find themselves surrounded by the squid-like Krakari. Heads and torsos with hundreds of tentacles, the Krakari are absurdly fast underwater, but clumsy on land. In order to walk, they wrap their tentacles together into writhing trunks, making pseudo limbs on which they can stand and move. They are extremely averse to the experience and do it as infrequently as possible. There is one small town for visitors, on the entirety of the planet, constructed on the very rocks those first brave Brenara landed on. Sabrin tells me they have become more open to trade in recent years, as shrewd merchants have brought luxuries not otherwise accessible to the water people. Nevertheless the Krakari remain unaccustomed to strangers, nor yet have any of them wished to leave their water filled planet.

​

I held out for a while that I would still be able to find one willing to answer basic questions about their planet and their species. Sabrin laughed at my optimism, and I hate to say she was right to do so. I have had no success getting a Krakari interested in speaking with me. At best my requests fall on deaf ears, at worse they have stirred a level of suspicion that is making Sabrin’s job harder. We will leave in a few days. I have now resigned my time to revisit the notes of my travels. There are a few more worlds left, hopefully by priming myself with the information gathered, I will be more able to seek the information I still need.

 

ELEVEN

 

I made a terrible mistake. I have been blind and foolish and it nearly cost me my own life, as well as all the lives of those with me. We flew by Luridian. That mysterious planet of purple mists, that has been there since before even the first three. I couldn't help myself. I do not know what possessed me, some stroke of genius I thought, now more clearly a stroke of madness. When I saw it cresting in the distance, after leaving Abyssaros, I thought perhaps it was the key. The secret to the mystery I’ve been unfolding in these carefully cataloged pages. I asked Sabrin if we could land there. She laughed at me. The Brenara avoid Luridian like the plague, ever since it swallowed the first few captains that directed their beasts toward its swirling surface. I relented. And yet the thought persisted. What if it was the answer? Could I afford to skip it? Could I afford that lost time? Could the true mages? Could Titan? I renewed my persuasions. I offered increasingly immense amounts of money, and against her better instincts Sabrin agreed. To fly near only, we would not land. She would bring me within range of a looking glass, though she asked what I expected to see and shook her head at my loss of words. 

​

We approached the purple orb slowly. And then quicker and then quicker. I was thrown forward on the deck of the cosmare, rough against the railing, when I realized something was wrong. Sabrin was shouting and her crew was scurrying around in near frenzy. Her cosmare released a great bellowing roar, one such that even someone as unfamiliar with the creatures as I could recognize the sound of pure animalistic distress. I found Sabrin and managed to interrupt her string of commands long enough to get a grasp on the situation. Some force was pulling us toward Luridian, some force so strong that we were caught like bugs in a trap. I did the only thing I could. I took out all my conduits and in a great expenditure cast a manipulation of force. It drained everything I had, and very nearly meant my death. If I had not been so close to unknown oblivion, I would have been impressed with myself. It was perhaps the most powerful spell I have ever performed. I was able to rip us from the force’s grasp and launch us back out into space far enough where the cosmare could regain control of itself. 

​

The trip has to be cut short. My conduits are spent. And I’ve lost the trust of Sabrin. She hasn’t said as much, but I can tell if I hadn’t agreed to leave at the next port, her crew would have me off regardless. We are close enough where I will have them take me to Titan. I do not know if my planet hopping has led to the conclusions I had hoped. Perhaps Thadd will be around to help me make sense of things. My one fear is that I come back to more ley lines having ceased, while being none closer to finding both an explanation and a solution.  

 

TWELVE

 

There is something uncanny about being in the flying citadels of the Nyoxrians. A cosmare goes into the vast expanse of nothingness that is space, and yet you can see what moves them. It makes sense. Your brain accepts it. Not knowing what keeps the massive structures of those many limbed beings high in the sky, above that angrily boiling storm, weighs on you. I’ve discovered I can forget it, in the long hours spent in the archival rooms, but stepping out into the open air, seeing the technicolor violence below me, and the inexplicable suspension around me, it never fails to set me on edge. But looking back I see my notes have lapsed. I must recount. We flew by Nyoxria and I requested Sabrin leave me there instead. It was a similar impulse to the one that had put us in peril around Luridian, but much less of a dangerous one. It was not hard to convince her, she knew Nyoxria well and landed me on a central Voltrum home to one of the larger archivist factions on the planet. The Nyoxrians welcomed me with sluggish interest, as one might watch a curiously shaped cloud roll by on a hot summer day. They showed me their record system, gave me a key through which I could translate their scratchings into common, and left me alone to work. A few days later I have made little progress. In this citadel is housed thousands of volumes of information, and I am told that it is only one of three. I asked how I might travel to one of the others, and was met with vague and differing responses. I do not know how long I will linger here. I have traveled the cluster now, somewhat extensively, and would have traveled more had I not made such a mistake over Luridian. To do so and still return empty handed shames me and my pursuits. I have inquired for word of Titan, as Fian, even a few mages, come to Nyoxria now and again.

[The rest of this entry clearly spans multiple days, even weeks, though there was no distinction made by Quil]
 

I have found something! What I have found, now that is harder to say. But I have reason to believe that I was not as alone in my wonderings as I first thought. I have stumbled upon a most interesting tale, one of a special Nyoxrian born long ago. His name does not translate, so I had to ask an archivist to give me the pronunciation. It is the sound of releasing a short breath of air. I think ‘Aer’ will be a sufficient phonetic representation in common. Aer was born, if this legend is to be believed, with wings. And he wanted his people to move below. Then he embroiled himself in research. Research for a question that was never recorded, or perhaps didn’t exist. Then he went mad. Went mad, or was attacked, the distinction is not clear. The same archivist who knew the story seemed to believe it was an allusion to being ‘attacked with madness’. I suppose that would make sense. However there is something within that sentiment that gives me pause. 

 

I run short of time. I am so very close. The Nyoxrians have begun to suspect me of something. I know it. Many times I go back to my desk and find the tomes I was working through tampered with, or gone altogether. I do not know what they are trying to hide from me. I heard whisperings of the guest who must be sent home. There is no one else it could be but me. I buy time by saying I am waiting for the captain I had prior arrangements with to pick me up. I do not know how much longer they will stand for it. But I must keep looking!

 

He knew! Aer knew! I am sure of that now. His markings, his signs, they are everywhere. I am walking the same path he did. It is a name. A name I don’t dare write here.

 

It is all complete now. The records of the cults on Celara and Kelvolv… and Titan. They were there before. They are there now. And his name is at the center of it. One thing, greater than others. One thing by which they could do great things, in exchange for great payment. Great sacrifice. And what a sacrifice it was! I wonder if they knew. My heart tells me they must not have, but I cannot be sure. Never be sure. I was confused, why they were all different now. Why after they did not continue to be a united cause. It is because there is no cause in the after! It is over and done! He has won now. But won what? And why? I don’t know. They didn’t know…

I think he knows my name. I must leave Nyoxria. He is here…. He will find me as he found Aer. I must go back to Titan. I must warn them. I think I know who can help me, if he still lives. The greatest mage who ever lived. Cad Cae. He is the only one I can trust.

​

[At this point in the long entry Quil’s penmanship began to deteriorate rapidly. There was much more written, but the above was all that was decipherable]

 

THIRTEEN

 

I have returned to Titan. My heart steadies with the knowledge that no other ley line has ceased during my long absence. The ninth does however remain an empty chasm reminding me of why I first set out across the stars. I went to the council first upon my arrival home, as is my duty. They refused to believe me. They claimed I make conjectures based on tenuous logic, that I see what I want to see. There is nothing to be done but to prove to them that they are wrong. This is much easier said than done. My one ally, dear Thaddeus, has passed on in my long absence. I would have valued his take on my findings, if only to hear one man say I was not going crazy.

​

My search for Cad Cae has returned nothing. Everyone knows his story, of course. A most gifted student expelled before his time, he lived before Celara arrived in the days before the cosmare, when all species were condemned to remain on their planet and their planet alone. And yet, it was said Cad Cae had mastered Spatial manipulation. One of the hardest of the seven, it had allowed him to travel between worlds before anyone else could. And in doing so he became unnaturally interested in the very thing which got him expelled. The very thing practiced by no other mage of the Arcanium. Void magic. The anomalies are the key. I am sure of it. That is why I wish to find him. It is the combined knowledge, of a true mage and a void mage, that can become the last piece of this haunting puzzle. If Cad is alive, he would be very old. There is every likelihood he has retreated to some distant moon to live out his days in quiet study. But I have to try. I have to try to find him.

 

FOURTEEN

[Another entry of which most was blacked out]
 

I don’t know how, but he knows my name. He comes for me. I can feel his presence in my head. It hangs over everything I do, every person I interact with. He doesn't want me to continue. It is what makes me sure that I must.

 

FIFTEEN

 

A new planet has arrived. The Brenara intend to invite them into the fold as they have with us all. There are rumors of this new species. They make their bodies, crafting them into a variety of forms. These forms, or constructs as they call them, are then filled out with their sinuous beings and used to conduct every manner of task. I am fascinated by the idea of these creatures, and hope to meet one soon. An emissary will be sent to Anslara, and I hope I can beseech it for passage to its planet. Being able to be on the ground immediately after a Moving is absolutely essential. If I can manage it, I can perhaps prove the reality of my beliefs. I can cause action. I can cause change.

 

SIXTEEN

 

They do not listen! They are idiots, charlatans, cowards! I saw it with my own eyes, felt it within my own being. Another ley line has faltered. It has not ceased, and because it has not ceased they do nothing. Yet does it make sense to plug a hole in a ship only after it has sunk? I have heard the rumors, that I have lost my touch, neglected my post, missed my duties. They cannot dismiss me. It cannot be stood for. And let them! If they do, I will have nothing left but to devote my time to the task at hand… 

 

SEVENTEEN

 

It is a disease. It spreads like a tumor, growing and pushing and grabbing until it needs to shed, at which point the pieces break off and multiply. The ninth was a symptom. That is all. A symptom. We do not have much time left. It consumed Aer, I have to think it consumed Cad Cae, and it will consume me. 

 

EIGHTEEN

 

War. There is war. For the first time since we have been connected by the cosmares, we are at war. We received disturbing news from Celara today. They took their flying beasts to the new planet, known now as Zyrmagora, only to be met with hostility. Details are few, but we know their emissaries were attacked and killed, the cosmares captured and used to conduct a brief assault on Celara itself. The Brenara were able to withstand it, but not before there was further slaughter. Slaughter and more cosmares stolen. Titan will, of course, stand with them. There cannot be war in the cluster, not now. Not while our true enemy remains hidden and scheming.

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I have discovered something else. An old ritual, based on an older theory. I have to try. It is more important than ever to prevent the destruction of Titan’s ley lines. If I can bring one back to life, then when the others falter, there will be a template in place.  

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