The moon cast a gentle light of dusk over Tlangthar, illuminating the empty streets and two figures dressed in hooded robes, whose folds shimmered slightly with arcane energy, who came up to the chief's place. Tyrs and Mynta, the twin scholars who were Advanced Magi, had come to see Larin, their nephew. Their coming was unexpected but momentous; they carried a reputation. True Magi, as they were popularly known, were masters of magical prowess of a kind unmatched anywhere else. To other mages, they represented a completely different level of knowledge, far beyond the narrow scope of spell-casting.
The household of Chief Zakop awaited their arrival with a mixture of respect and nervousness. Zakop, his wife Moimui, and their son Larin stood together as the twins entered, immediately demanding attention. The air seemed to shift, heavy with an almost tangible magic that radiated from the siblings.
"Tyrs, Mynta," Zakop greeted, lowering his head slightly. "Welcome to our home. It is an honor to host you."
"Cousin Zakop," Mynta replied, her tone warm but measured. "The honor is ours. We've come not just to visit, but to extend an invitation." Her gaze shifted to Larin, sharp yet kind. "To you, nephew."
Larin straightened under her scrutiny, his sharp black eyes meeting hers. "An invitation?"
"To learn under us," Tyrs said, his voice smooth and deliberate. "It is time, Larin. The path you're on requires guidance that neither academies nor earthly teachers can provide. You must understand magic beyond its boxes and boundaries, to see it for what it truly is, your friends - Gwendon, Ngieri and Rinky will be invited after this as well."
Moimui looked at Zakop, her concern visible but muted by her trust. Zakop nodded, his jaw set in determination. "Larin, this is a gift few people are ever presented with. You should grab it."
Larin took a moment, the heaviness of the offer sitting upon him. But interest—and a dawning purpose—urged him to continue. "I'll take it," he replied, his voice level despite what was churning inside of him.
The twins grinned, their happiness clear. "Then let us start," Tyrs said, indicating for them to sit down.
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The family came around the center table. There, the twins opened their mouths in a talk that defied common knowledge. Tyrs started with her words running like poems but full of meaning.
Magic, as most understand it, is a set of patterns," she said. "We name these patterns-fire, water, wind-and place them in categories. But these are only constructs, boxes we create to make sense of the incomprehensible. True magic is chaos, a raw and infinite force that resists definition.
Mynta took over effortlessly, her voice sharper but no less compelling. "The act of naming magic limits it. To grow as a mage, you must unlearn these limitations. You must see magic not as spells or elements but as a reflection of reality itself…or rather, hyperreality. The threads of existence and their infinite possibilities."
The family sat in rapt silence, struggling to comprehend the depth of what the twins spoke. Larin pushed himself forward, though his burning curiosity seemed to smoulder. "How am I to unlearn everything that has been taught?"
Tyrs smiled faintly. "By seeing the deeper things. Let me demonstrate.
She waved a hand, and the room darkened, the air around them shimmering with an otherworldly light. In the space above the table, a vision unfolded—a tapestry of worlds, each connected by luminous threads. The sight was overwhelming, the vastness of it humbling.
This is the weave of reality," Tyrs explained. "Each thread represents a possibility, a choice, a consequence. Magic manipulates these threads, bending them to our will. But to do so effectively, you must understand them, not as categories but as chaos made tangible."
Mynta raised her hand and the vision shifted, focusing on a single glowing thread. "This is propaganda magic, subtle yet powerful. It functions upon information, shaping perception and altering belief. The Empire uses it masterfully, embedding their control within the very fabric of thought. To break free of it takes more than resistance-it takes knowledge of how it works.
Zakop finally opened up. "You are saying the Empire has its power based on some sort of information magic?" he said.
"Yes. Partly. But really, it is also founded in their control of the reality itself. The threads of the Dysno Church, the military, all propaganda - all weave towards a greater tapestry of control. To counteract them, you have to learn how to weave.
Larin's mind raced as he absorbed their words. "And Sinlung?" he asked. "What role does Sinlung play in this?"
Mynta's expression softened. "Sinlung is both creator and creation, a force that loves its children even as they stray. The Breathing Technique you've learned is a gift, a way to reconnect with that love. But it is only the beginning."
Tyrs nodded. "To really grasp magic, you must embrace chaos. Shatter the boxes. Rediscover the truths that were taken from you. And forge new ones."
To prove their claims, the twins showcased their expertise. Tyrs, the archaeologist, brought artifacts from far-off planets, each of which had a kind of ancient power emanating from it. "These," she said, "are echoes of lost civilizations. Studying them does not only give us knowledge of their magic but of their reality, of how they understood existence. In knowing the past, we find the infinite."
In return, Mynta unfolded her expertise in space magic. She raised her hand, and an opening caved out of the universe, exposing an endless extent of stars. "Space is not just distance," she said. "It is possibility. By bending it, we bend reality itself. This is the essence of Advanced Magic—not casting spells but reshaping existence."
Larin watched, amazed, as his aunts demonstrated powers that defied everything he had learned. Their magic was raw, unbridled, and beautiful.
The lecture continued into the night, going further into theories and philosophies that challenged every assumption Larin had held. By the end, his mind felt stretched to its limits, but his resolve had never been stronger.
This is only the beginning, nephew," Tyrs said as they prepared to leave. "You have much to learn, but you also have the potential to go farther than we ever have."
Mynta placed a hand on his shoulder, her gaze intense. "Remember, Larin. Magic is not a tool. It is a reflection of the universe and your place within it. Treat it with respect, and it will reveal its secrets.
With that, the twins stood and their forms shimmered for a moment as they departed. When they activated the cloaking spells, it was like their figures merged with the ether, forming a blur that faded further into the ether. The space around them folded inward before silence followed.
Zakop, Moimui, and Larin sat in contemplative silence, the heaviness of the evening's revelations settling over them. Finally, Zakop spoke, his voice thoughtful. "They've given you a path, Larin. It will not be easy, but it is yours to walk. They will return to pick you up tomorrow. Prepare yourself."
Larin nodded, his gaze resolute. "I'll do it. Not just for myself, but for our people. For Xiaxo."
Moimui stretched over and grasped his hand. "We believe in you, son. You have the strength to carry this burden."
The family sat under the two moons that would set above the great range at night, casting light down into the black stone town. The weight of responsibility hung heavy upon their heads, but quietly intertwined was a hope of leaving. For the first time in years, they walked forward to something greater.