After numerous tests and experiments with his core, Evan finally lay down to sleep in his simple tent. His body was exhausted, but his mind wouldn't stop replaying the runes and combinations he had tested. When he closed his eyes, he hoped only to rest.
The darkness was absolute.
Evan floated in a formless, weightless void. It was a silent space, yet oddly inviting. He wasn't sure if he was asleep or awake, but he knew something was different.
And then, slowly, he saw it.
A faint light appeared in the distance, growing until it illuminated a vast hall. The dark, gleaming walls seemed made of a living material, like pulsating obsidian, and were covered in rune inscriptions that emitted a soft glow.
It was the Shadowed Palace.
The name came to him as if it had always been there, waiting to be recognized. Evan had heard stories of this place—a dreamlike space where mages could access their cores and consolidate their experiences. But he had never been able to reach it before.
Since the day his core had awakened, he had seen the opaque sphere every time he slept, floating in the void like a distant promise. Yet the Shadowed Palace had never revealed itself to him. It was as though the entrance had been sealed, barring him from crossing an invisible threshold.
But now, for the first time, he was inside.
At the center of the hall, something floated.
His core glowed faintly, translucent like crystal. Surrounding it were small orbs, but they did not shine. They were vague silhouettes, like shadows of something yet to exist.
"Zero orbs," he thought, feeling a slight pang of frustration.
But the core pulsed in response, as if trying to reassure him. Evan stepped closer, and when he touched its radiant surface, something extraordinary happened.
A wave of sensations and images flooded him, emanating directly from the core. They weren't words or sentences, but concepts he understood intuitively.
Origin Rune.
That was the name of the core, a truth that now seemed obvious. More than a name, the revelation brought a clear understanding of its purpose:
His core was attuned to patterns and connections. It existed to manipulate runes, decipher them, recreate them, and inscribe them.
Its strength lay in precision and adaptability. He could learn to transform any idea into a rune, but it would require time and practice.
Each orb would represent a step toward greater control and flexibility.
The core pulsed softly again, as if to comfort him, but the absence of orbs was a heavy reminder of his lack of progress.
Evan touched the core mentally, trying to grasp how to fill those empty spaces. Yet, as he concentrated, nothing came. No clear answers, no obvious path.
He knew the problem wasn't a lack of effort. In the two years he had spent at the Arcane Field, Evan had tried to learn countless spells—but the process was dauntingly difficult.
Each spell, even the simplest, was built on a complex web of concepts.
For instance, the basic spell fireball wasn't just "summoning a flame and throwing it." It required:
Internal energy control: The mage had to visualize energy flowing through their core, intensifying as it circulated.
Molecular agitation: Imagining how heat arose from rapidly moving molecules, transforming energy into combustion.
Controlled projection: Mentalizing the energy being projected outward, maintaining its shape and direction.
Focus words: Specific words or phrases that helped solidify these concepts in the mage's mind, creating associations to guide the process.
.
.
.
It was like a complex mental dance, where each step had to be memorized and executed perfectly.
And that was for a simple spell.
The more advanced the spell, the more concepts were required, and the harder it became to integrate them.
Evan knew that to progress along the Arcane Path, he needed to align spells with his core's concept. This meant progress depended not just on effort, but on finding a connection between the core and the spells he was learning.
Mages with well-defined cores—like fire, water, or earth—had an advantage. Their cores acted as natural guides, providing insights and easing the learning of aligned spells.
A fire mage, for instance, could instinctively visualize heat and combustion. A water mage could naturally sense the flow and weight of liquid.
But for Evan, with his Origin Rune, there was no clear guidance.
His core was unique, attuned to abstract runes and patterns, but it offered no practical insights for elemental spells. He had spent two years trying to learn basic spells like wind, earth, and mud, but with no success.
"No matter how much I practice," he thought, frustrated, "none of this makes sense to my core."
Now, standing before his core in the Shadowed Palace, he wondered how he could overcome this barrier. How could he align spells with the concept of runes and patterns?
He tried focusing on the ethereal orbs again, hoping for an idea to emerge. But the core remained silent.
"It's like trying to solve a puzzle without clues," he murmured.
Despite this, there was something comforting about the space. The Shadowed Palace felt alive, as if it were waiting to help him—or perhaps waiting for him to discover the answers on his own.
Evan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
He knew the journey ahead would be long and difficult. But for the first time, he felt he wasn't entirely lost.
As the Palace began to fade around him, Evan made a promise to himself. He didn't know how to fill the orbs or align spells with his core, but he would figure it out.
"I've made it this far," he thought. "That's more than I've accomplished in two years."
When he opened his eyes, back in his tent at the Arcane Field, the echo of the core still pulsed in his mind. He placed a hand over his chest, feeling the faint warmth of the Origin Rune.
"I'll figure out how to make this work," he said quietly, determined.
For the first time, the absence of orbs didn't feel like a failure but an opportunity—a blank canvas waiting to be filled.