2 Five Parts

15.01.2022

A wizard’s Part never came into time without purpose. That purpose would decide the title they were given. Of course, as a wizard’s life was theoretically eternal, these titles could change over time. A Scholar might become an Engineer, while the Engineer may experience that calm slowness as Wizard in Mezchinhar while the Wizard went to explore their little part of the multiverse as a Scholar.

It was more good form, to identify their individual Parts and give a rough idea of their purpose than it was a binding rule.

Only the Warriors usually kept their title for as long as they existed.

The Stargazer had been the Engineer. Or at least, he had been supposed to be, that had been his purpose. But after losing himself in the void for the first time another Part of Ravalor had taken that title. And he had become the Stargazer.

It was an empty title. A title carrying no value, only judgement. Not a descriptor of any occupation, but a name given to those without. To a part without purpose.

The Stargazer woke up alone. But he found comfort in his own mind. Because he wasn’t truly alone.

The Engineer was on Galast, where he was supposed to be. They called him the Kingmaker there – and he had taken on that name because it put distance to the fact that he had taken the title of Engineer from the Stargazer.

A faint shiver crept over his skin as the memory of the howling wind and cold rain drenched his clothes. The heavy construct beneath his feet was slippery and restless, but yielding effortlessly to the Kingmaker’s will who manipulated the construct with firm confidence. He always liked that sense of confidence. The Kingmaker noticed him and ignored him. As usual.

The Scholar was on earth, of course, he was. The Wizard of Artlenburg, bound to the life of a Hermit since even before the Stargazer had first awoken. Another title given to him by humans. When it had been that he had started to think of the Scholar as the Hermit himself he could not tell – but after all, it was an unfortunately fitting title.

It was quiet and calm in the ancient tunnels. He remembered his ashen face looking back at him in the magic glow of the light floating gently in the air, bobbing up and down slowly, splitting into smaller parts and joining each other again. He was cleaning his face, for a moment occupied with the task and the memories of his other selves as much as the Stargazer was now – the looming sense of doom became almost easy to ignore.

The Warrior was on Luna. Sent there by his Grandmaster. He didn’t really want to be there and if the fuming Admiral before him had anything to say about it, he shouldn’t be either. The mere fact that humanity’s urgent request for help was answered with sending a mere footsoldier was perceived as an affront in and of itself.

The Warrior’s frown was hard and unwavering as he listened to the barrage of the admiral. It was inconsequential to him. Despite the Warrior not holding any rank of importance, this human held no authority over him.

But it was that lack of rank that was the reason he was here now, having been sent in his Grandmaster’s place to explain to the man that there was no help coming from Mezchinhar’s fleet yet. He wasn’t a diplomat, and his revelation of the fact had been accordingly tactful, hence the intense anger of the admiral.

There was only one wizard ship currently in this system – and it was still close to Plutoe. Still investigating what little remained of Charon. He’d return there soon enough. But he couldn’t do that too soon, the Grandmaster expected him to at least make an effort.

There was nothing productive coming from this and his stoic demeanour, all the while his mind wandered back to Charon, only fueled the admiral’s fury.

It evoked a sense of frustration within the Stargazer who wished he knew why they weren’t helping in the first place. The Warrior had accepted the fact, because whatever the reason, he didn’t need to know. But Ravalor understood the man’s anger.

For a millennia earth had prospered and grown under the seemingly benevolent attention of the wizards, grown into a sprawling galaxy-spanning empire. But now in their hour of need, with their closest allies still weeks away, the wizards were absent from the fight.

The Warrior’s stoic and calm acceptance should be comforting, being unshaken by the circle’s inaction, but it just made him bitter. Maybe even a bit angry.

 

And then there was the Wizard.

The Wizard had of course promptly noticed him awake and inquired into his well being which in turn filled him with a sense of calm. The Wizard rarely left him alone, and while he wasn’t with him now, he was close. Both were here in Mezchinhar. They weren’t supposed to — no two parts should stay together in the same place. But Mezchinhar was safe. Or at least, safe enough. Of course, he was still only granted the space allocated for only one Part of him. They were sharing this single, barely two by three metres large room which was the wizard’s quarters as well as his workspace.

The room was the only thing in Mezchinhar Ravalor could reasonably call his own, and even that wasn’t quite true. He was still a very young wizard, but already in the fourth-Ium since he had come into time he had been relocated 34 times. It was a part of the life in Mezchinhar as they tried to create space in a mercilessly finite environment, trying to accommodate too many wizards, all of whom wouldn’t trust another at arm’s length.

All those impressions came to the Stargazer at the same time and that too was the way it was supposed to be. The assurance that everything was alright, that he, Ravalor, each part of him, was alright.

Doing nothing but listening to the constant hum of the Iumzache, the Stargazer turned on his side, staying within the comfort the warmth of the blanket conveyed just a moment longer. It was a mere illusion his body indulged in for the pretence of being somewhat human, but it was comforting nonetheless. And it was not like he had anywhere to be. There was no hurry.

Not in Mezchinhar, and never for him.

The thought carried a dangerous hint of nihilism as the warmth around him faded more and more to make room for the cold void deep within him. There was something that was missing, always had been, from the moment he had come into time.

Ravalor’s own mistake.

Giving in to the temptation of trying to fix himself, to change himself, to find what was missing. To see into the void.

Even if it would have been only a little bit. But as it seemed there were things within their mind that couldn’t be fixed, things that were beyond their abilities to influence.

The emptiness within him had grown from the moment he opened his eyes, always reaching for something beyond his grasp – but for a while, he had functioned – for a while he had been the Engineer. Till one day he had broken down.

The cold emptiness within himself turned numb and suffocating. Turning from the ever-present pressure to almost weightless darkness. And it was his burden alone. His critical flaw. The rest of him knew of it, but they didn’t feel it. Knew the memory of it, but not what it really was like.

His body and mind froze. The rest of him grew distant till there was nothing left of them. He was alone. The world around him turned dark and distant till he didn’t feel his own body anymore as time around him died. And he stopped existing.

A gentle touch on his hand ripped him from the void, a bright light flashing through his mind pushing away the darkness. He gasped as his body first now remembered to breathe.

Then the calm voice of the Wizard.

“Stay here.”

The Stargazer turned towards him, filled by the relief of no longer being swallowed by the void.

“I am.“

He was. But it also meant that he now was reminded of the others too. And there was no hiding it, not from himself, that not all his opinions were as understanding as the Wizard was. Maybe it was because the Wizard felt the most responsible. The Warrior had no patience for him, even growing frustrated at times, the Kingmaker was the most dismissive of him, more often than not downright pretending he wasn’t even there, only the Hermit understood him better than any other – because they both were looking for something that was missing. More so than any other part of himself.

“I didn’t mean to take you away,” he said apologetically as the Wizard sat down beside him, slowly brushing his long hair from his face with gentle care. He had been talking to Exavidar on the Soulturners request but cut the conversation short once he noticed the Stargazer growing distant.

“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t have left you alone, but you were so fast asleep for once. But it’s good you’re awake now. We have much to do.”

The Wizards’ words were warm, kind and a courtesy. They didn’t need to talk to understand each other, to know their thoughts and intentions, but the Wizard spoke to him because the Stargazer had asked it of him. Because it felt more right. He needed to be close to himself whenever he didn’t feel part of himself. He spoke aloud because it felt more real, he took the Wizard’s hand that had touched his own before, because he needed to be here. To stay.

The Wizard let him. Indulged him as the Stargazer mind reached out to him, finding comfort in the more collected and caring nature of the Wizard. The Stargazer’s fingers intertwined with that of the Wizard, the identical magical markings on their hands glowing softly as he was letting himself and his mind be embraced by the Wizard. And for a moment he was at ease, for a moment he was okay. Neither talking nor sharing this form of connection between one’s parts was unheard of in Mezchinhar – however, the talking was considered the more unusual of the two.

The whipping rain cut off abruptly as the Kingmaker stepped down within the arching shelter of the groves’ magical entrance, turning to look back at the construct. In the thunder and rain, the beast of steel and fire groaned in heaving breaths, a hulking colossus of steel.

The Kingmaker wiped the rain from his face, but it kept dripping from his beard nevertheless.

Just a quick maintenance check they had said and dropped this thing in his backyard. In the worst month of autumn on Galast. Oh, he knew what this was. Commonly they called these kinds of random out of nowhere tasks from the circle simply “check-ins“. A quick reminder of their presence, to make sure everyone was still in line and ready to jump if the circle would say so.

Subjectively though this felt like ill will if anything – but he wouldn’t complain, no. Well, he did, but not out loud.

Don’t be angry now. You’re almost done.

The soothing thought from the Wizard made him only scoff.

I’m not angry. I’m soaking wet and am not enjoying the lack of cooperation from my work partner.

As if to spite him and his struggle the construct gave a wheezing hiss, and the Kingmaker just so managed to not hiss a curse back in turn. He crossed his arms and watched it silently. Faintly he remembered the troubled thoughts of the Hermit and Stargazer, but he ignored both.

He waited for a while, staring into the weather till the rain was again reduced to a drizzle.

He definitely could use a hand.

Only moments later a glistening portal opened up beside him.

The Kingmaker gave the Warrior a satisfied nod of approval when he arrived.

Safety precautions stated that it was critically inadvisable for two Parts of one wizard to be present at the same place – which was good advice, surely, but Ravalor had grown quick to dismiss it. Statistically, most wizards possessed three parts, sometimes only two, sometimes four. He was five – and with that came a treacherous sense of assurance that there was always a backup of him somewhere, that the chance of more than half of him dying at the same time was slim to none. And so what did it matter if the Warrior was here now too, killing some time till it was reasonable for him to return to Charon’s remains without earning himself a reprimand from his Grandmaster.

Sure took that chance to get away.

The Warrior’s expression didn’t even twitch, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. Who could blame him, naturally the Kingmaker too thought of that senseless barrage the Warrior had just received as exhaustingly unproductive.

The rain had stopped but the wind and thunder still were deafening as they both stepped back out from the artificial shelter of the grove’s entrance.

He had a point.

The Kingmaker climbed up the first ledge, and the moment the soles of his boots came into contact with the construct again the magic within himself anchored him firmly on top of the smooth and wet metal. He offered the Warrior a hand and pulled him up while he dismissed the Warrior’s thought.

Maybe. But it’s their war. Not ours.

Not yet. I think there might actually be something more going on. We have to keep looking.

The Kingmaker smirked to himself as they reached the top of the construct again, the steep wind picked up the pace, howling between the thunder. If they were to actually speak words to each other they would have had to shout.

He’s gotten to you. 

The Warrior looked back at him, a slight frown on his face. And for a moment, after each connection had synchronised, each Part of him had an opinion about openly poking fun at the Warrior for having caught some of the Hermit’s paranoia. The Hermit himself was already on edge, ignoring them with forced stoicism, but a faint glimmer of nervous anger in his thoughts. The Stargazer was quiet, but couldn’t help but take the mocking personally. Only the Wizard urged him gently to be lenient while the Warrior thought of his comment as willfully ignorant.

There is something unnatural about this war. In retrospect, even about the unrest in the empire that has been growing for centuries. Something that just doesn’t feel quite right. The newest reports speak of possible sightings of chaos cultists in their ranks – if that is the case – this will become our problem too. Do not tell me you can believe even for a second that Zenozarax’ escape was just a coincidence. That this army just happened to accidentally free him on their path of destruction. Now they have arrived almost at Earth, their forces meeting them as we speak. You might want to ignore it, but under the gaze of the lords I bet my life on it, this battle won’t end at Mars. We have to be ready.

There was a grim silence after that.

It wasn’t like the Warrior told the rest of him anything he didn’t already know. Just that Ravalor wasn’t yet sure of the interpretation of those facts and these discussions between him were just a means to reach a consensus. Hopefully. It wasn’t impossible for a wizard to keep an internal conflict unresolved, like a more caring part disagreeing with a more practical-orientated one, however, it was rather uncommon. After all, they were one wizard, one mind maybe expressing different facets of who Ravalor was more strongly in one part than another, but still all part of the same person.

Here’s to hoping they blow that entire planet up. That would be one less worry on my mind, the Kingmaker thought with bitter jest and not free of bite.

Hm. The Warrior did not answer that and no Part of him really found it funny, with the Stargazer objecting to even thinking it, stating that they should help where they could. The Kingmaker ignored that and remembered promptly the irritation that caused the Stargazer. He also ignored that. Of course, he didn’t want Earth to be destroyed, but at the same time it was an anchor wedged deep into memories he rather not think about. Which was also the reason the Hermit vehemently refused to leave those blasted tunnels.

The Warrior did what he had come here to do, holding the space between two plates open so the Kingmaker could work inside without losing an arm when the construct underneath their feet decided to move. Only moments later he was halfway swallowed into the darkness of the construct, trusting the Warrior to keep him alive and in one piece.

He didn’t want to think about Zenozarax, he had managed to almost successfully ignore those memories in the last centuries, coaxed into a sense of peace by his once most trusted friend being held safe and eternally frozen on Charon. The guilt and regret he felt about it he could almost ignore as well. At least some Parts of him could.

Now that sense of peace and security had been successfully blown up alongside Charon. The official report stated that in a swift and unexpected attack following the initial skirmishes near Pluto, Charon, having drawn the attention of the enemy fleet due to the activities of the stationed Knights of Amuthon, had been completely destroyed, leaving nothing and no one alive. It also optimistically stated that it was unlikely that anyone could have fled before it happened. But that was the official report. And he didn’t believe it. Based on the fact they were still investigating Charon, he doubted he was the only one. Zenozarax wasn’t dead. He knew that almost with the same certainty he subconsciously would know a part of him being alive or dead.

And so Ravalor had taken it upon himself to find the chaos wizard, despite once more everyone telling him that it was a bad idea. But he needed to. That was the Warrior’s purpose now.

And it wasn’t just the Hermit who showed the stress this fact caused him the clearest. Every part of him felt it. But not all wanted to believe.

Usually, the Hermit would have scoffed at that incredible self-reflection, but as the Kingmaker noticed its absence he paused, hands deep into the circuitry, really paying attention to the Hermit’s memories.

There was something. Lords, there was something. 

The Hermit, after finding himself pacing nervously through his little cave unable to even sit for a moment, stared back into the mirror, his own tired eyes looking back at him but he didn’t even really look. It felt like every neural pathway in his body was tingling with this damn something!

There was something. Something very, very wrong.

Suddenly the earth trembled.

It was just for a moment, like a single wave aching through the tectonic plate. The Hermit subconsciously held his breath. But the tremor was followed by nothing but silence.

Curious. This feeling he had, now this. Was it a coincidence?

Somehow he didn’t believe that.

He turned, staring out into the darkness where the light of his cave vanished into the black void of the ancient tunnels. Dark, cold and calling for him.

Without thinking about it he grabbed his cloak, throwing it around his shoulder while he was already in full stride – and vanished into the darkness. He didn’t even bother with a light – the nervousness taking his body was almost tearing him apart. His fingers were twitching.

He saw well enough in the absolute darkness, and he felt any light only would obscure from the vague sense he felt drawn to. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt it alright. Just feelings. By the lords what would he give for just one single certainty, not just these lords forsaken feelings and impressions.

Maybe this was it, this day would be the day he finally broke down, taken by paranoia built over centuries, millennia even. But he felt clear-headed – unfortunately so.

He didn’t know how long he walked, almost ran, sometimes even ported forward as far as he dared without losing this sense of direction he felt drawn to, but he knew he was taking too long. Because he had no time. His mind hurt.

How did he know that? Why did this feeling become familiar? A sense of power coming from before him now he had never felt before and still – his steps were not uncertain. He went forward as if he knew exactly where he was going. Something inside of him did.

The air turned heavy and he minded his steps as he passed the slight slippery stones of the tunnel as he crossed the river Elba above him. And only for a brief moment, he had almost stopped, he didn’t and just briefly looked back over his shoulder. There had been a low dripping of condensate on the stone floor, barely audible over his steps.

His confusion only grew.

And he remembered the urgent concern from the others, the Wizard alert. They felt distant.

What’s wrong?

The Wizard had halted in his work, the large display before him idling patiently waiting for his input, the small summoning circle to his side pulsing slowly, the small piece of magic before him waiting for the next part to be added, but all that was forgotten. He met the Stargazer’s eyes. His equal looked tense, more so than ever. For a moment there was only the faint, gentle and everlasting hum of the Iumzache at the height of its pulse from deep within Mezchinhar’s centre.

The Wizard himself was nervous. He couldn’t feel what the Hermit felt, but he got enough of an impression from his memories to be unsettled by it. And he didn’t know which possibility was worse, that the Hermit now too had broken down, or that there actually was something wrong.

The Hermit’s answer came late, which wasn’t always something suspicious, right now, however, it gave credence to the second option.

I don’t know. I just don’t know!

“What if it’s Zenozarax?”

The wizard hadn’t noticed how his attention had drifted away, lost in the Hermit’s memories, but as he heard the Stargazer’s voice he was violently snapped back into the reality of Mezchinhar, staring at the Stargazer as if he had just slapped him across the face. It couldn’t be, he wouldn’t do that. Not with the war already going on, it would be madness to make a move now, when the entire human force was already mobilised around the heart of the empire that was watched so closely by so many wizards.

“Maybe he would. We all are looking at Mars now, but maybe we are looking in the wrong direction,” the Stargazer said tensely, answering his thoughts. And for a moment he spoke more with the Hermits’ voice than his own. “After all this time, what we did to him… I can’t even imagine how angry he must be.“

“It’s not him,” he finally said decisively, trying to display a sense of certainty neither of him felt right now. He saw it in the Stargazer’s face, felt it in the thoughts of the Hermit and Warrior. Only the Kingmaker wanted to believe him.

“If it is,” the Stargazer said, a frown on his face hiding the unease the very idea caused, “Yoctotyr needs to know, right now. Everyone there would be in danger.“

Of course, he was right. Even if it wasn’t true, he needed to do something in case it was.

The Wizard stood up. “Come.“

The Kingmaker squatted before the opening of the construct, looking up at the Warrior.

Both for a moment just remembering the others.

It could be. The Warrior confirmed the Stargazer’s musings, and if the situation wouldn’t be so potentially terrible the Kingmaker would have joked that this might have been the first time those two actually were of the same opinion.

The memories of the Hermit came slower and slower, turning to balking impressions, and the Kingmaker frowned.

Something was wrong there.

He looked up to the Warrior. You want to go?

Hm. Hesitation not out of fear but caution. If the Hermit was running straight into his death now, the Warrior rather not follow blindly. To lose one would be bad, two would be terrible. Not as incapacitating as losing over half of himself would be, but the moment he would loose two, that would become a very real possibility. It was true that he had become used to the implied danger of being with another part of himself, but reckless he had never been.

A few moments passed. A few moments too many in which the ruptured memories no longer reached them. For the first seconds, neither of them considered what it could mean, then it turned into an uncomfortable sensation in their subconsciousness – and finally the terrible realisation.

The Hermit was gone.

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