Eldrin stood at the base of the Sage’s Hall, his gaze locked onto the modest two-story building. It was made of sturdy timber and wood, its architecture simple yet inviting, exuding a warmth that felt almost unnatural. Though unassuming in size, the building pulsed with a quiet, arcane energy—something deeper than what the eye could see.

  The foundation and edges of the structure were lined with old stone, their surfaces cracked with age. But within those fractures, faint lines of mana pulsed like veins beneath skin, breathing life into the building itself. The glow shifted subtly, like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, its hues fluctuating between soft blues and silvers, a quiet testament to the healing magic woven into the very bones of the place. Even in the crisp morning air, as the autumn breeze rustled through golden leaves, the Hall radiated a sense of warmth, of restoration, of peace.

  Eldrin wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  His chest felt tight, heavy with the weight of an unshakable anxiety. His fingers twitched at his side, betraying his internal war. This wasn’t a battlefield, yet his body treated it as one—his mind cycling through every possibility, every response, every worst-case scenario. He had been raised to meet hardship with steel, to push through pain in silence, to be unbreakable. The idea of speaking openly about his burdens, especially to a cleric, felt like walking into unknown and dangerous territory unarmed.

  A gentle but firm voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts.

  "Come on, Eldrin," Elara urged, her tone steady but free of pressure. "It won’t be so bad. I already spoke with the clerics—He’ve chosen someone for you. It’s easier than you think." She paused, then added with an understanding smile, "It’s like talking to anyone else about your problems, except these clerics actually know how to help. He deal with grief, loss, fear, doubt… things you don’t have to carry alone."

  Her words were steady, matter-of-fact, but never forceful. She had been here before, had walked this path and knew its worth. He could see it in her stance, in the certainty behind her words. She believed in this, in them, in him.

  Eldrin swallowed, his throat dry. His mind continued to resist, cataloging reasons to turn away, to delay, to prepare more—but no preparation could arm him for this. He exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the crisp morning air.

  And then, with a slow nod, he took a step forward.

  Eldrin hesitated for a heartbeat longer, his fingers flexing at his sides before he finally moved. One foot, then the other. The wooden steps creaked softly beneath his boots as he ascended toward the entrance of the Sage’s Hall. As he reached for the handle, the mana lines coursing through the cracked stone pulsed slightly, almost as if sensing him.

  He paused, glancing over his shoulder. Elara remained at the bottom of the steps, her arms crossed, watching him with a calm but knowing expression.

  "I’ll let you handle this on your own," she said, tilting her head slightly. "I need to pick up a few supplies for our research—some texts on ley lines and a few alchemical ingredients.” She smirked slightly, then added, "And no, I’m not using this as an excuse to give you space. You’ll be fine."

  Eldrin swallowed and gave a tight nod. He wasn’t so sure about that.

  The door was warm beneath his fingers, the wood old but well-kept. With a slow breath, he pushed it open. A gentle wave of mana-infused air greeted him, neither oppressive nor overwhelming, but undeniably present. The scent of parchment, herbs, and burning incense filled the space, mingling with the faintest trace of rain-soaked earth—an odd but oddly grounding combination.

  Inside, the room was softly lit by floating orbs of pale light, drifting lazily near the rafters like fireflies caught in a trance. The walls were lined with bookshelves, tomes ranging from thick, leather-bound volumes to simple scrolls tied with ribbon. A wide hearth flickered in the corner, adding to the sense of quiet warmth that seemed to radiate from the building itself.

  A figure stood near a desk at the far end of the room, their back turned as He arranged a collection of neatly stacked papers. Their robes, a muted gray with intricate silver embroidery, marked them as one of the clerics who tended to those who sought guidance within these walls.

  Eldrin closed the door behind him, exhaling softly. He could do this.

  The cleric turned, their gaze settling on him with a look that was neither judging nor prying—just observant, patient. He did not speak immediately, as if waiting for him to gather himself.

  And so, for the first time in a long while, Eldrin found himself standing in a place where he was not expected to fight, endure, or prepare for battle.

  He was simply… here.

  Eldrin hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his boots pressing lightly against the polished wooden floor. As he moved deeper into the hall, a familiar scent filled his lungs—not the scent of parchment and herbs he had first noticed, but something deeper, something impossible.

  The clean, crisp tang of the ocean.

  He stiffened. The scent was unmistakable, the same one he had breathed in countless times aboard the decks of ships, carried by the spray of salt and foam. But that made no sense. The nearest ocean was at least a month’s ride away, and yet… it was here, in this quiet sanctuary.

  Soft chimes rang somewhere in the building, their tones delicate and airy, singing in harmony with what sounded like the distant echo of rolling waves. The sound wasn’t loud—if anything, it was subtle, woven into the very fabric of the room. The more he focused, the more he could almost hear the tide rising and falling, as if the ocean itself breathed within these walls.

  The cleric, still standing nearby, didn’t acknowledge it—perhaps it was always like this for those who entered. Instead, she gestured again toward the small seating area near the hearth.

  Eldrin sat down, his body still tense but no longer locked in place. The warmth of the fire flickered over him, mixing with the impossible sea breeze in the air. The cleric poured a cup of tea, the steam curling up and catching the light like mist rising over the waves.

  “Cleric Thalegor will be with you in just a moment,” she said smoothly, placing the cup in front of him. “Take a moment to settle yourself. The tea was brewed just before your arrival.”

  Eldrin didn’t move for a long moment, his fingers hovering just above the ceramic. The scent, the sound, the air—it all reminded him of home, but not in a way that burned or ached. It was… grounding. Familiar, yet distant, like an echo of something lost but not forgotten.

  Finally, he wrapped his hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into his fingers. The weight in his chest remained, but for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t pressing quite as hard.

  He took a slow breath, inhaling the scent of salt and tea, and waited.

  Eldrin sat rigidly in the wooden chair, his fingers still wrapped around the warm ceramic cup. His mind churned, running through every possible outcome, every way this conversation could unfold. He needed to be prepared. What questions would He ask? What should he say? What should he not say? Could He see through him? Could He sense the weight in his chest, the battle waging in his mind?

  Would He pry too deep? Would He expect him to spill everything all at once?

  His thoughts spiraled, layering one worry over another, until—

  “Ah, Eldrin Seastorm, I presume?”

  The smooth voice cut through his internal storm like a ship slicing through turbulent waves. He blinked and looked up, startled out of his thoughts.

  Standing before him was a tall, broad-shouldered individual clad in flowing robes of deep blue, their intricate silver trim shimmering faintly under the warm light of the hearth. Their skin was an iridescent shade of violet, their eyes a striking silver that almost seemed to glow. Pointed ears peeked through thick, dark braids adorned with small, carved seashells.

  A triton.

  The sight of one so far from the ocean was enough to give Eldrin pause.

  The figure gave a slow, measured nod, a gentle but firm presence about them. “I am Cleric Jaylith Thalegor,” He introduced himself, his voice carrying a lilting, almost musical quality. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  Eldrin wasn’t sure if ‘pleasure’ was the right word for their first meeting, but he simply nodded in response.

  Jaylith offered a small, knowing smile before motioning toward a hallway lined with more of the glowing mana-infused stone. “Come, let’s talk. My office is just down this way—more private, and a bit quieter.”

  The sounds of distant waves and wind chimes hummed softly in the background, but as Jaylith turned, motioning for Eldrin to follow, a strange thing happened—the further He moved from the hearth, the more those ocean sounds faded.

  Eldrin hesitated for only a moment before standing, setting his untouched tea back on the table. His body was still tense, still preparing for something, though he wasn’t sure what. He followed the cleric, his steps steady, his mind anything but.

  This was it.

  Whatever waited behind that door, whatever words would be spoken in that room—he would face it.

  Eldrin followed the cleric down the softly lit hallway, his boots barely making a sound against the wooden floor. The gentle hum of mana still pulsed in the stone, but the further He went, the more the distant echoes of waves and wind chimes faded into stillness.

  At the end of the hall, Jaylith pushed open a simple wooden door and gestured for Eldrin to enter.

  The room was cozy, yet uncluttered. A large circular window let in the soft glow of morning light, illuminating a collection of neatly stacked books, a small writing desk, and two comfortable-looking chairs positioned near a low table. A faint scent of sea salt lingered in the air, but this time it was mixed with something herbal—like sage and lavender.

  Jaylith moved with practiced ease, settling into one of the chairs and motioning for Eldrin to take the other. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

  Eldrin hesitated but eventually sat down. His posture remained stiff, his hands instinctively resting on his knees, as if ready to push himself up and leave at any moment.

  Jaylith took a moment to pour themselves a cup of tea from a simple ceramic pot before turning his attention fully to him. His silver eyes were calm—assessing, but not prying.

  "First, I want to thank you for coming," Jaylith began, his tone gentle yet steady. "I understand that for many, stepping into a place like this can feel… unfamiliar, even difficult. But you’ve already done the hardest part—you’re here."

  Eldrin said nothing, his fingers tightening slightly on his knee.

  Jaylith continued, unbothered by his silence. "This space is meant for you. There are no expectations, no judgments. We can talk about anything that weighs on your mind, or we can simply sit in silence if that’s what you need. My role is to listen, to offer guidance where I can, and to help you untangle what burdens you."

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  He paused, sipping his tea before setting the cup down. “With that in mind, let’s start simply. No pressure, no urgency—just a few questions to get a sense of where you are.”

  Eldrin exhaled slowly, forcing himself to nod.

  Jaylith’s voice remained even as He asked, “What brought you here, Eldrin? Not just the journey, but the reason behind it. What made you take this first step?”

  Eldrin’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into loose fists on his knees. He knew the answer to the cleric’s question. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a reason—he had too many. Too many things clawing at his mind, too many memories that felt like He belonged to another life. Trauma. Anxiety. Depression. Regret. The weight of it all sat heavy in his chest, pressing down like a storm barely held at bay.

  But where was he supposed to start?

  For a moment, he considered just brushing off the question. He could say he was here because Elara insisted. That wasn’t exactly a lie.

  But even as the thought crossed his mind, Jaylith tilted his head slightly, as if sensing his hesitation. The cleric’s silver eyes softened, patient but perceptive.

  "You don’t have to unload everything all at once, Eldrin," he said gently. "This isn’t a battlefield, and you don’t need to have all the answers prepared before you speak."

  Eldrin exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against his knee.

  Jaylith continued, his voice measured and even. “Sometimes it helps to start small, to ground yourself in something familiar. Why don’t we begin with what you’re working on right now? Your current goals. What brought you to this part of the world, outside of this conversation?”

  That was… easier. Something tangible. Something he could explain without feeling like he was unraveling.

  He let out a slow breath, staring down at his hands before finally answering. “I’m… studying. Researching, I guess. Elara and I are gathering information for a project at the Arcane University. We’re looking into all things magic and building a report to earn the title of Archmage.” His voice was steady, though his shoulders remained tense.

  Jaylith gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful. “That’s a fascinating pursuit. Arcane research takes patience, insight, and a sharp mind.” The triton cleric took a pause, then asked, “And is this something you’ve always been drawn to? Or is it a newer path for you?”

  Eldrin hesitated. His fingers drummed against his knee. He could feel the weight of a dozen different answers, but only one made its way out.

  “…It’s new.” He frowned slightly, shifting in his seat. “It wasn’t something I planned. But it’s where I am now.”

  Jaylith studied him for a moment before offering a small, reassuring nod. “New paths can be unexpected. Sometimes He find us before we even realize we were looking for them.”

  He let the words settle before continuing, his tone still calm but gently leading, "So, what about this work draws you in? Is it the knowledge itself? The challenge? Or something else?”

  Eldrin exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Elara and I met at the Arcane University,” he began. “It wasn’t some grand moment or destined encounter. We were seated next to each other on the first day, and after a few minutes of awkward silence, I spoke out of turn and asked, ‘Want to team up?’”

  A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it faded quickly. “That was it. No long discussions, no deep connections. Just convenience at first. We didn’t even know what we wanted to research and write about—still don’t, really. The university gave us the standard foundational courses, but as far as specializations go, we’re still figuring it out.”

  Jaylith nodded, fingers steepled. “And what draws you to those studies? Do any of the types of magic call to you more than others?”

  Eldrin’s brow furrowed slightly. “I thought He would.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I thought I’d come in and know exactly what I wanted. But the more I look at the list, the more I realize I don’t have a clear path. Everything sounds useful—Advanced Magical Theory, Illusions, Warding, Elemental Manifestation—but I don’t know which is mine.”

  He let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Right now, we’re just working through the foundational material. ‘The Foundations of Arcane Magic’ and ‘Whispers of the Elements.’ Basic stuff, mostly—how magic interacts with the world, ethical spellcasting, reading the flow of time, setting up wards. A little bit of everything. The university says we need a solid grasp of those before moving into advanced work.”

  Jaylith took a sip of his tea before responding. “You say basic, but those fundamentals are the pillars of every great mage. Knowledge builds on itself, layer by layer.” He tilted his head slightly. “What about these studies makes you feel unsure? Is it the scope? The expectation? Or something else?”

  Eldrin’s fingers tapped idly against his knee, his gaze distant. “I think… I started all this because I needed something to keep me busy. To keep my mind from slipping into places I don’t want it to go. I thought studying magic—pursuing the title of Archmage—might be a way to fix myself, to find the version of me that I lost along the way.”

  Jaylith didn’t interrupt, letting him continue.

  “My mind is the one thing I can’t control,” Eldrin admitted, voice quieter now. “It runs on its own, cycles through thoughts I don’t want, memories I can’t stop. But when I focus on something—learning, crafting, alchemy, training—it keeps me even. If I don’t have something to chase, something to build, I start to spiral.”

  Jaylith watched him carefully, his expression thoughtful. “So, this pursuit is less about the title and more about keeping yourself steady. A structure to hold onto when everything else feels unstable.”

  Eldrin gave a slow nod. “Yeah.”

  The triton cleric let the answer settle between them before speaking again. “It’s good to recognize what keeps you grounded. But it also helps to ask yourself—are you studying magic to build something new for yourself, or are you chasing it in hopes of recovering something that’s already gone?”

  Eldrin’s fingers stilled. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  Jaylith leaned back slightly, his tone still calm. “You don’t have to answer that now. But it’s worth considering as you move forward.”

  Eldrin swallowed, his mind already picking apart the question, the implications. He wasn’t sure what the right answer was.

  And that realization unsettled him more than he expected.

  Jaylith sat quietly for a moment, letting Eldrin’s thoughts settle like sediment in still water. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and instructive, as if shifting into a teaching rhythm—not unlike a university lecture, but gentler, more personal.

  “Eldrin,” the cleric said, “you mentioned something important earlier—how your mind can turn against you, how you need tasks to keep it busy. That’s not uncommon, especially for those who’ve lived through hardships like yourself. But your mind is not just a burden—it’s also your greatest tool. Like a bicep in your arm, it’s a muscle. And like any muscle, it can be trained.”

  Eldrin blinked at that, unsure where the cleric was going, but he remained silent.

  “That’s where meditation comes in,” Jaylith continued. “It’s not about silencing your thoughts. That’s a myth. Meditation is about observing them—acknowledging their presence, and then learning to let them go. It’s about creating space inside your own mind, so you can respond rather than react. Just like spellcasting requires focus and clarity, so does healing—from within.”

  He gestured lightly with one hand. “Through meditation, you can begin to confront the negative patterns, the loops your mind plays over and over again. Not by fighting them, but by recognizing them as visitors, not masters.”

  Eldrin shifted uncomfortably. “So you’re saying I’m supposed to just sit still and breathe until my trauma leaves me alone?”

  Jaylith smiled gently. “No. It doesn’t leave you alone. But it stops controlling the room.”

  There was a long pause before Eldrin asked, almost hesitantly, “And that helps… heal?”

  “It does,” Jaylith said. “Not overnight. And not perfectly. But it builds strength where there was once only survival. It opens the door to healing—emotional, spiritual, even magical. It helps reconnect you with the parts of yourself that have gone quiet.”

  Eldrin frowned, fingers tracing the edge of the chair’s arm. “Quiet... yeah. That’s the word.” He looked up at the cleric, something vulnerable creeping into his tone. “I haven’t been able to cast in a long time. Not since the war. Not since everything changed. Even with elven blood on my mother’s side, even with study… it just won’t come.”

  Jaylith nodded slowly, as if He’d heard this story before. “Magic isn’t just intellect or bloodline, Eldrin. It flows through belief, will, connection. Trauma can sever those threads. Guilt can block them. If your mind and spirit are out of sync, your magic won’t respond. You can have the spark, the heritage, the training—but without alignment, the fire won’t catch.”

  Eldrin stared at the floor, brows drawn. He didn’t argue.

  “Let’s try something,” Jaylith offered gently. “Not magic. Not yet. Just… stillness.”

  He shifted in his chair, setting his hands in his lap. “Close your eyes. Feel your breath, like waves moving in and out. If a thought comes, name it silently—‘fear,’ ‘regret,’ ‘anger,’ whatever it is—and let it drift past. You don’t need to solve it. Just recognize it and let it go.”

  Eldrin hesitated—but then, slowly, he nodded. He closed his eyes.

  The room was quiet save for the soft crackle of the hearth. The sea breeze scent lingered faintly in the air.

  One breath in. One breath out.

  And for the first time in a long while, Eldrin didn’t feel like he was bracing for impact.

  He was just… there.

  As the silence stretched between them, Eldrin gradually became aware of his own breathing, of the steady rhythm of in and out, like waves on the shore. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about what came next.

  Jaylith let the moment settle before finally speaking, his voice smooth and unwavering. “Your mind is a battlefield, Eldrin. But not every fight needs a sword. Sometimes, the greatest battles are won with stillness, with clarity.” He leaned forward slightly, his silver eyes gleaming with quiet wisdom.

  “You spoke of your research—the ley lines, ancient magic, the foundations of arcane theory. That is a journey worth taking. But I suspect you are searching for something beyond knowledge.” He tilted his head. “You are not just looking for how magic works—you are looking for how it connects. And perhaps, how to reconnect yourself to it.”

  Eldrin’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t interrupt.

  “I would advise you to start where magic is oldest. Not where it is most powerful, or most refined—but where it is pure. Places untouched by ambition or conquest.” Jaylith rested his hands in his lap. “Seek out ruins where magic still lingers in the stones, where nature has entwined with the arcane. The Wildspring Glades, the Ruins of Ithkaris, the forgotten sanctuaries of the First Mages. Even places where history has faded into myth. Magic does not die—it waits.”

  Eldrin frowned slightly. “And how do I know which places are the right ones?”

  Jaylith smiled faintly. “Magic calls to those who listen. When you stop fighting for control—when you allow yourself to be—you may find that the answers were always waiting for you.”

  Eldrin exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. He wasn’t sure if that was frustrating or reassuring. Maybe both.

  Jaylith rose from his seat, moving toward one of the shelves along the wall. He ran his fingers lightly over the spines of several books before selecting a tome bound in deep indigo leather, its cover embossed with an intricate silver sigil.

  He turned, holding it out toward Eldrin. “Before you go, take this.”

  Eldrin hesitated before accepting the book. The leather was cool beneath his fingers, the silver lettering catching the soft light.

  "The Way of the Silent Sage: Mastering the Mind for Harmony and Destiny."

  He ran his thumb along the embossed sigil. “What is this?”

  Jaylith’s expression remained unreadable, but there was something knowing in his gaze. “A guide. A map, not for the lands ahead, but for the terrain within.”

  Eldrin’s lips pressed together as he studied the book. The weight of it felt different from the tomes of spellcraft and arcane history he was used to.

  “I can’t promise it will give you all the answers,” Jaylith admitted, “but it will help you navigate the pitfalls of your own mind. The Silent Sages were seekers, much like yourself—ones who found strength not just in magic, but in understanding themselves.”

  He met his gaze. “Embrace the journey, Eldrin—no matter the fear that lingers. Knowledge, purpose, and even magic—they will return to you in time. But only if you walk the path and believe in yourself.”

  Eldrin nodded slowly, the weight of the indigo tome resting in his hands. He wasn’t used to words like that affecting him—not anymore. But something in Jaylith’s voice had settled into the hollow places inside him. A quiet ember catching the edge of kindling.

  But just as he turned to go, Jaylith’s voice called him back.

  “One more thing,” he said, moving toward an old oaken cabinet behind their desk. From within a locked drawer, Jaylith retrieved a small object—bound in soft black leather, embossed with faint gold runes that shimmered subtly in the room’s ambient mana.

  “This,” the cleric said, offering the book to Eldrin, “is a journal. But not just any journal. It’s infused with Runetech magic, an innovation created by a rather eccentric gnomish arcanist named Fimble Tinkerwhistle. He believed that connection between minds was just as vital as connection between realms.”

  Eldrin took the journal carefully. It hummed faintly in his hands like it was alive with dormant thought.

  “It’s attuned to me,” Jaylith continued. “While you travel, study, or find yourself lost in thought at the edge of the world, you can write in it. When you do, the Runetech will transcribe your message to a twin journal I keep here. I’ll read your words as if you were sitting in front of me, and I’ll be able to reply the same way.”

  Eldrin stared down at it, awestruck. “So… we can talk, even if I’m miles away?”

  “Precisely,” Jaylith said with a nod. “I suspect there will be moments ahead when doubt creeps in—or clarity strikes—and you’ll want someone to share that with. Think of this as a quiet fire between us. Something to return to when the night grows long.”

  Eldrin swallowed hard. “Why give me this?”

  Jaylith looked him dead in the eye. “Because healing doesn’t stop when you leave this room. And because… even the strongest wanderers need someone to talk to.”

  For a moment, Eldrin had no words. He simply held the enchanted journal to his chest, clutching it like a lifeline.

  “Thank you,” he managed at last.

  Jaylith smiled, warm and unwavering. “May your path be yours alone—but never walk in isolation.”

  With the runetech journal and The Way of the Silent Sage tucked under his arm, Eldrin turned toward the door and stepped out into the crisp morning air.

  His journey hadn’t just begun—it had changed. And this time, he didn’t have to walk it alone.

  Eldrin exhaled, fingers tightening around the book. There was a time he might have dismissed those words as empty wisdom, as just another vague philosophy that held no place in the reality of his struggles.

  But for the first time in a long while… he wasn’t so sure.

  Slowly, he stood, tucking the tome under his arm. He met Jaylith’s gaze and gave a small, respectful nod.

  “I’ll read it.”

  Jaylith smiled. “Then you’ve already taken the first step.”

  And with that, Eldrin turned, stepping out of the quiet sanctuary of the cleric’s office—out into the unknown, with nothing but the weight of the book in his hands and the faintest flicker of something unfamiliar in his chest.

  Hope.