"My name is Wilson Koorb. It is the eighteenth day of Trescia. The third hour of this early morn saw me complete my Potion of Expeditious Haste. It is… wondrous. The most vibrant shade of sky blue I have ever witnessed. I ate some provisions, bathed, and rested the moment the brew was safely stored.
It is now the fifteenth minute of the fifth hour of the evening. I have yet to take the charge slated for days ago. Thus I note my consumption of my potion of levitation at the thirty-seventh minute of the fourth hour of this evening.
"As this feeling of detachment comes over me, I scan through my notes, realizing this potion will last two days beyond the time slated for tomorrow's charge to be consumed. Due to the revelations of yesterday, however, I have elected to take this charge at the appointed time. It will be a first for me to consume two potions simultaneously. I will ensure to leave an entry before consumption.
"In the meantime, I will go to Marsha's Bakery for conversation and proceed to take the rest of the evening lightly. I am still fatigued from yesterday. And the nature of the day's charge calls not for strenuous activity."
Muffled through a cloth or not, my favored pen accurately inscribed each word spewed from my mouth. That alone was a point of pride that could brighten any day, and it often did. But, not today. Today there was a change to my beloved pen that was only noticed once my words were spent. I looked upon it and my smile, my proud eyes, my very spirit, plummeted.
No longer was my pen white like pearl, it was black like night. No longer was the tip a shiny steel or silvery metal. It was gold. No longer did it have a smooth and plain design. It was carved and etched in an ostentatious way. It was… beautiful. So beautiful that it seemed to call out to me, demanding I place it in my pouch, rather than forsake it in my lab while I left.
It was so strange, the feeling of something vanishing the moment the pen fell into my grasp. Like a burst of power that faded into nothing as quickly as it came, the strange design of my pin faded so fast that it was nearly unrecognizable to the forefront of my mind. I simply pocketed the device and allowed the feeling of detachment to take hold, lifting me from the ground before I left my abode, ignorant of the seed taking root in the back of my mind or the sinking feeling within my gut.
The strangeness of the day seemed to rise, as did the blind ignorance as to what was within. For the first time in decades, there was no taunting. No ridicule. No eyes looking on in pitiable disgust and no mouths snickering as I passed them by.
The city of Shavew seemed to buzz with energy, despite the river roads and wide avenues being noticeably sparse. Those who could be seen were taking the river roads to the furthest point of the Bright Bridge District and continued on foot past the East Wharf and out the gates.
I moved in the opposite direction, coming across several individuals running. Sprinting, even. Not out of fear. Out of… mirth or excitement. I felt no such things. At least not until I entered Marsha's Bakery and saw the old high elven hound dog leaning against the counter like always.
I went through the usual routine of placing out a handkerchief below my salted meat and cheese while Marsha topped up my chalice and deposited a fresh loaf beside my meal.
"You could've at least walked in." He lamented with a soft laugh. "I didn't even have to try."
Smiling softly, I placed a silver coin on the counter and jerked my thumb over my shoulder. "Had to make sure the best baker in Bakewia didn't run off on me."
"And I'm glad I didn't!" He laughed, swiping the coin with gusto. "Seeing you float up to the counter is a treat in itself. Seeing you walk, on the other hand…" he let the words hang in the air, allowing an exaggerated wince speak in place of words.
"Alright, jackass." I laughed, moving off the stool to levitate in a seated position, bringing on a fit of laughter for several minutes that ended with me moving back to my seat to point out the empty streets. "So, what's with the mob? It's like everyone decided on an exodus and is happy about it."
"Have you heard of what happened to Atford County?" he grinned smugly, knowing the answer that was only accentuated by my deadpan gaze. "Pascal's Industry happened." He grinned wider. "He contracted with Lord Atford and constructed some sort of factory in Winwell that makes those vehicles of his. Then, he put depots, he calls them, in every city from Steamer to Drethyr, filled with those vehicles. The residents learn to use them. They then make money ferrying people across the country in mere hours. Dozens of people per day. Per vehicle! Some think they can travel across the peninsula just as quickly."
"That's-" I cut myself off, knowing damn well that such a thing was indeed impossible. At least, for them.
"Atford is now an esteemed county. As prestigious as all the others! And that's not all!" Marsha added with budding enthusiasm. "The citizens of Atford County, from children to the elders, are educated at no cost. It's been said he's been recruiting members into his subguild. And." He grinned teasingly. "Rumor has it he has some sort of priests with him."
"Okay." I nodded, attempting to cast aside my amusement to look at things logically. "But…" I started, "That doesn't explain the uproar. Or the exodus."
"Ahh." He nodded slowly, shifting his gaze from the floating buildings to the window overlooking the harbor district. "There are other rumors. Rumors of an owl perched atop a mithral cane. Blacker-than-black with eyes filled with stars. They say it's in the park." He turned back to me, a dangerous glint of curiosity burning deep in his eyes. "They say it grants wishes."
"Blacker-than-black with eyes of stars," I muttered, attempting to dig any mention of the sort from my memory. To no avail.
"Aye." He nodded, knowing I'd never succeed. Knowing I'd be interested. "They say it's an avatar of some God. Who, they don't know. But I thought about going to see for myself once I closed up. What say you?"
My answer came in the form of help. Helping Marsha close up his bakery in record time. The fact that it was my first time notwithstanding, we managed the feat in less than an hour and a half. A feat that seemed to prompt Marsha into making his trademark declaration.
Alchemy wasn't so different from bread baking after all. Only the ingredients varied, being less… caustic. Significantly so.
Outside of his bakery, it was like we were kids again. Racing as fast as our knees would allow through the sleeping city. Only, back then, the city slept because there were fewer enchantments. Now, the city slept because its inhabitants sought new horizons. Spurred on by a sole, eldritch being.
As the tales told, we found it in the middle of the park's biggest clearing beneath a street lantern. The small creature was perched atop a mithral cane like a statue. Preferring instead to draw in the eyes of any passersby with the flowers and morsels and coins and trinkets offered and scattered below its esteemed perch.
Its wings, blacker than the blackest night, seemed to be lined with a gold radiance that shone in the light of sunset. Its starry eyes, black almonds on a face shaped like a drawn heart, seemed to gaze upon reality itself. Its talons, small though they were, seemed as hardy as adamantine and as powerful as a dragon's claw.
"Use your fancy glasses," Marsha whispered, forcing air into my lungs through shock. "See what it is."
With several more breaths, I did as asked and soon felt the air rush from my lungs once more. "It's a contradiction is what it is," I muttered in response to Marsha's inquiry.
"What does that mean?" he impatiently asked.
"It's… everything. Good and evil. Undead, but alive. A fiend and a celestial. Wicked… and divine."
Seeming to be frustrated, he stepped towards it with a grunt, hesitated, then placed himself before it with a bow. "You are the Owl? The one who grants wishes?"
"Indeed." It nodded, replying in a booming sonorous voice that reminded me of a great sage. "However, the Owl does not grant wishes. The Owl assists in fulfilling the desires of the soul. So tell me, what is it that your soul desires?"
For whatever reason, Marsha looked to me as if he was searching for an answer, then shrugged before I could begin to formulate one. "Well, I just wanna make and serve baked goods and keep my family happy. And, I'm doing that already. So." He shrugged again. This time to the Owl. "I have everything my soul desires. Not unless I can bake more and keep my family happier." He chuckled awkwardly. But the Owl replied by waving its wing, sending a black feather lined with golden light drifting his way.
Almost fearful of it touching the ground, Marsha reached out to catch the feather with a child-like enthusiasm. Only for it to disperse into countless motes of light upon his success, freezing him in place for a few long moments until, suddenly, a gasp escaped his lips, his eyes turned wide, and his head craned back to gaze up into the sky and laugh in maddened disbelief. Then he spun, sprinting until he remembered me, and dug his heels into the ground to halt his motion.
"Go!" I waved, smiling with pride and awe and disbelief mixed with a thousand indescribable emotions. "Tell me about it when I next see you."
With a nod, he was on his way. Thus I turned with a sudden feeling of trepidation weighing over me; for, now, it was just me standing before this eldritch being.
So small, it seemed at a distance. But its stature bloomed with each concurrent step into its domain. From the size of a child to the stature of a man and beyond to a giant of giants, wherein it blossomed into a titan of feather and star, dusk and wing.
Like a mouse standing before a God of Gods, I felt as if every fiber of my being was laid bare for the being to scrutinize and judge. And yet, it expected questions and demands. And thus I would give answers and compromises.
My eyes remained locked on those starry almonds, forcing a part of me to despair from the impossible task of uttering a single word to this being while another part was guided into asking the most prevalent question to haunt my being. "What will happen to Marsha?"
"The Owl has blessed Marshalanorn. He and his kin will migrate to greater lands. Lands where he can 'bake more.'" The Owl raised its wings in quotations, letting out a series of short but horrendous screeches that I assumed to be laughter in the process. Then it leaned forward on its perch, consuming my vision with that heart-shaped face and its unblinking starry eyes. "Do you wish for the same, Wilson Koorb?"
I gulped, feeling the wind rushing in the wake of its great beak. "H- hardly." I forced out a dry laugh.
"Then what does your soul desire?"
My soul was laid bare before this creature of unholy holiness. The Owl knew my answer already. This, I knew, for it lulled me into making it known, yet dared me to speak it aloud, promising the worst to befall me should I do so. But… there was no choice I could make. None, other than to gaze into those starry eyes and declare my most selfish desire.
"I desire perpetual youth and immortality so that I may realize my magnum opus. Can you bless me- not curse me- with that?"
"The difference is a matter of perspective." The Owl declared, leaning back and shrinking down to its usual, small size. "However, the answer is the same regardless."
The answer came in a spread of wings that sent me into a pit of darkness. Cold fire lashed across my chest, digging deep into my flesh before I was thrown into some unseen wall of softness. Then, I saw it. The talons digging deep into my flesh but cutting into my spirit. Then, I felt it. The weight of a titanic owl, standing on top of me as if I were a captured mouse dangling above an endless pit. Then, I felt it. The gust of haunting winds spinning in the wake of folding wings, revealing the rats and dirty stone and alchemical equipment that was all too familiar.
Then, the Owl pressed its beak to my nose and screeched. "No."
The declaration sent those starry eyes on a path to consume everything. My very soul was thrown into a malevolent endlessness with enough force to stir the most primal essence in existence from its slumber.
The journey was over in a matter of seconds. And yet it seemed to take eons to cross that endless chasm of light and darkness to slam into the region composed of the undetectable, the unknown, the unthinkable.
It was a realm that could be stared into without sensing anything. Once that was all there was, I sensed it. A stirring of the undetectable, moving in this timeless space to bring a final point of light into view. A sphere of pure white with a black crevasse running down the middle.
An eye, malevolent like that of a dragon's.
The eye twitched down like lightning, focusing on me before swathes of land were pulled close to cover the baleful eye in an amusing squint before it rose to the heavens, bringing teeth the size of mountains to sweep past my insignificance and give way to tidal waves pursing together into lips to blow me away with the force of an exploding sun.
Rocketing- no, falling to whence I came, I plummeted ad infinitum through those endless motes of light and the countless pits of darkness, gaining back what I'd lost in addition to dreaming of a mountain more.
No longer was the endless emptiness just that, however, for the awakening malevolence made the darkness writhe and churn in an attempt to latch on to my reforming essence.
I felt myself… becoming. Becoming what, I knew not besides tainted. I knew not besides knowing things I knew not before. I had memories and visions and thoughts and dreams.
Dreams of wicked wizardry and eldritch artificing and nightly alchemy that could produce marvels dozens of times over.
Thoughts of travel to exotic lands that wouldn't have enticed me before, to explore and to fight exotic creatures for exotic materials used in exotic brews.
Visions of black marble, onyx, and gold somewhere in a forgotten hole that I could, should, and would find for a reason I couldn't quite surmise.
Memories of flesh, bones, and blood that I needed to find and see, for it somehow was a part of me. Needed to become a being of sharp teeth and claws and horns capable of reducing himself to metal-coated bones.
Needed, to become immortal.