Chapter 3.13: The Plane In Between

“Well, this is the part of the library I wanted to show you two.”
Oanoa floats in front of Oslando and Mero, both slowly advancing to one of the biggest bookcases they have ever seen. There must be hundreds of books on those shelves, maybe a thousand, all collectively collecting dust.
(Intelligence 15)
“Do you know which two schools of magic are the easiest to learn for an eldritch knight?” The Beholder looks over his shoulder and makes eye contact with the half-elf.
“One of them is evocation, I believe, just as Mero's school”, Oslando says, trying not to sound too uncertain. “I don’t know what the other one is.”
“That would be abjuration, my dear wizard in training. It’s all about damage and defense.” Oanoa runs his thin fingers across the backs of the many books and stops. He taps a few times on one, bound in thick brown leather, and takes it out.
“You will find some scrolls in here that are suited for you. I think there are about thirty or so in here, but I want you to pick only two. Wait…”
He eyes him over again, his tattooed eyes join his gaze, and wobbles his head.
“I think you can handle three spells. Yes, pick three and take the scrolls with you. They are quite easy to study and I have the feelings you will have little to no difficulties following the instructions. And to give you some motivation: I’ll teach you a few cantrips if you succeed. Good luck.”

As he leaves it with that, he turns to Mero. The puppet is sitting in a chair. Well, he rather hangs in it.
“Are we boring you, nephew? Does the magical progress Oslando is making not interest you?”
Mero jumps up and shakes his head quickly.
“No! It’s all very important, I know that.” He looks uneased and his body seems restless. “I just can’t wait for whatever you have in store for me. I’m sorry if I seem impatient, uncle. I don’t want to be rude.”
Oanoa hovers over to him and lays his hand on Mero’s neck. He moves his thumb repetitively to calm him down. He can feel how ragged his artificial skin is, how much his body has suffered. He looks down at him with watery eyes.
“It’s alright, it truly is. I will continue with you now. Let’s unlock some of your magical abilities.”
A wide smile appears on his mask.
“Yes!” He is a bit loud. “But… Magic can’t be taught to sorcerers. We are born with our powers, unlike wiz-”
“Yes, unlike wizards”, Oanoa says, interrupting him. “You have to stop with this passive aggressiveness to other spellcasters, Merodius Darvantingo, it’s unhealthy. Sorcerers and wizards, witches and warlocks, they are all defined by their actions, not by their ways of studying. You are a good mage if you do good deeds. Wars have been waged because fanatics believed their ways were superior to others. Don’t contribute to that part of our history, but learn from it.”
(History 11)
Although he knows many wars have been fought with many spellcasters leading their followers to their death, Mero doesn’t know of which one he’s speaking right now.
“I… I…” He doesn’t know what to say. He looks down at his shoes, ashamed of his prejudice.
“Look at me, Merodius.” He moves his hand from the puppet’s neck to his and tilts his head. “Look into my eye.”
Just when Mero wants to ask which of the many eyes he means, the biggest one begins to glow. It almost feels like he’s getting sucked into it, as if everything around him is turning black. The only thing that remains clear to see, is Oanoa’s central eye. The purpleness around his pupil glows and a burst of light follows, blinding Mero shortly.

“Where are we?” Mero’s voice echoes. He feels his uncle’s hand on his shoulder. In front of them glows a silver orb with steam swirling around it.
“This is the source of your magic”, Oanoa says. “All the energy here comes from you. It is everything you are and it has kept you alive while your body died. This, dear nephew, is your soul. Can you feel it?”
The puppet takes a few steps forward and reaches towards the beacon of light. A tendril of the same kind of silver reaches to him and touches his fingertips. Mero glows and a warmth he hasn’t experienced in his current life fills his body. He gasps.
“I forgot how it feels, how it truly feels, to bathe in the light. I can feel the warmth on my skin. I feel alive. How is this possible? And how did you bring me here? And why?”
He looks back to find Oanoa, but he can’t see him anymore. He can only hear his voice. “This is the wellspring of all your arcane powers, Mero. Step into it and it will show you many paths to walk. I think it will unlock powers you had in your previous life. Let it show what a true sorcerer and child of Iavolof can do. Show everyone your endless power!”