Icons and Willpowers, Sages and Heralds, Cradle

The Winter Sage squirmed in place for five entire seconds before her excitement won out and she gave in. “Okay! To become a Sage, you have to contact a greater power, a symbol of a greater concept of reality. We call that symbol an Icon.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she gave Yerin a fond smile. “You have already touched the Sword Icon, which has guided you in battle.”
Yerin nodded along. “Okay. So you sense the Icon, that’s the first step. What’s the next one?”

The Sage laughed. “First step? That’s the last step.” That should be encouraging, Yerin knew, but she didn’t like being laughed at. The softness of the rabbit’s fur helped soothe her irritation.

“The first step is you yourself becoming a symbol of swordsmanship. In my case…” She spread her hands wide, snowflakes drifting down from the ceiling above. “…I manifested the Winter Icon first. I became a symbol of ice, of cold, of all things that freeze and are frozen. Only later did I also reflect the Sword Icon.”

So you could have more than one Icon. That was good to know.

“And this Icon shows you how to win fights?”

The Winter Sage hefted the bottle she had used to feed the rabbit. She held it up so that Yerin could see it, then she tossed it into the air.

“Freeze,” the Sage commanded.

The bottle stopped in midair. It had been tumbling end-over-end as it fell, and now it was locked in place.
Yerin crept up. She sensed no madra or aura holding the bottle in place. She ran one hand over it and below it, but felt nothing. She even tapped the bottle with one finger. It was stone solid. Min Shuei reached out a hand of her own. The bottle fell into her waiting palm.

“Sages and Monarchs can command reality directly, but as you can imagine, there are limitations. We can only affect the world in certain ways related to our Icons, and we call the scope of that power our authority.”
This was what Yerin wanted. She finally had a name for it. This authority seemed like the goal of all the sacred arts: complete control. It was the power that the Sword Sage had mastered.

Wintersteel (Cradle Book 8)

Eithan ran a comb through his messy hair. “That, ladies and gentlemen, illustrates the strength of Heralds. While Sages focus their willpower outside of themselves, to make changes to the world directly, Heralds focus it inwardly. They enhance their own power beyond all limitations.”
...
Eithan stroked his chin. “Picture, if you will, a building with many floors. Each floor is higher than the last, and each supports the one above it. These floors are the laws that govern our existence. At the bottom, the foundation, are the physical laws.” He clapped his hands together.
“It’s no less complex than the other systems, and it forms the basis for all of them, but it is superseded by the level above it.” He spread his palms apart slightly to reveal the blue-white coin he’d Forged.
“Madra.” A snap, and the madra disappeared.
“With madra, we can break and bend and overrule the physical laws that would have bound us otherwise. Within certain rules and limits, of course. If we continue this analogy, soulfire is the staircase between the madra system and the next level up. At which we exert our wills to control the world directly.”
...
“Infusing techniques with willpower is not the exclusive domain of Sages and Heralds. They’re just better at it.” Eithan planted fists on his hips and glared at the Dreadgod. “I will defy this beast with all the power of a leaf drifting on the wind!”

Bloodline (Cradle Book 9)

“That one doesn’t work, Dross.”
[I’ll check it off the list. We can’t change its shape. Boom, there it goes. Gone from the list. Now how about color, can you change the color?] Lindon started to focus again, but Eithan waved a hand in front of his eyes to stop him.
“I’ve heard it said that all Sages can accomplish with their authority whatever they could accomplish without it.”
[Oh, that’s clever!] Dross said. [Very memorable saying, very snappy. Too bad it’s, you know, wrong.]
“I can’t re-open a portal with my madra,” Lindon pointed out.
“Ah, yes, let me clarify. There are things that any Sage can do, and then there are things that only you can do, with your Icon and your unique relationship to that Icon. I thought it might be prudent to start with the things that any Sage could do.”
Lindon watched the mug as though committing it to memory might help him somehow.
“Pardon, but I couldn’t transport the mug directly from the shelf to the table without my authority.”
“I can,” Eithan said, rolling up his sleeves. “Let me show you.” His smile dropped and his eyes sharpened. He held out his hands, focusing his will. Then he grabbed the mug, lifted it, and placed it on the other end of the table.
“Behold!” he cried. “I have transported the cup!” Dross applauded furiously. Lindon spoke his own thoughts aloud.
“So I get the same end result, but skip the process.”
“That’s exactly right.” Eithan sounded somewhat surprised.
That was an intuitive connection, but it felt right. There was something missing, though. Charity had opened portals and brought techniques to life. Northstrider had brought back the dead. Those weren’t things he was capable of doing without authority.
...
“Ah, no, I meant ‘Do you know why you struggled more with that working?’”
“I had to split my focus.” He was working largely from instinct, but his will had encompassed both the mug and the water. That had made it more than twice as hard.
“Correct, but there are other factors at play as well.” Eithan took another sip of water and then placed the mug back down. “Try emptying the mug.” Lindon shook his head.
“Apologies, I’m too weak. I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“I highly doubt you will find this so exhausting.” Eithan must have a point. He always did. And despite feeling like he had just completed a hundred complex mathematical equations while performing a delicate Soulsmithing operation, Lindon was still ecstatic about getting some kind of grasp on his Sage abilities. He could try a little more. He gathered his focus and spoke the order: “Empty.”
The water vanished from the mug. Lindon braced himself to fall again, but he felt nothing. He had ordered the water as easily as he might order a pet. Concentrating to gather his willpower was still a bit tiring, but the actual command had taken almost nothing out of him.
He understood why immediately, and it was like a light dawning in his mind, revealing an entirely new world of possibility.
“It’s in line with my Icon.”
“And it’s something you were capable of doing on your own,” Eithan pointed out. “Emptying a vessel is well within the concept of the Void, and pouring water out of a cup is simple for anyone. Also, you in particular could have burned that water away with Blackflame. Therefore, very easy.”
Lindon peered into the jug. “Did the water return?”
“What do you think?”
“I suspect it did, because when I thought of emptying the cup, I thought of pouring it back into the jug. But that means all I really did was move water from one place to another. So why was that easier than moving the mug?”
Eithan waved a hand. “You’re thinking about it like it’s a sacred arts technique. You’re working on a conceptual level now. Don’t cling to literal definitions.”
“If it’s all a matter of perspective, then I can do anything,” Lindon continued, letting his thoughts guide his words. “I could move the mug by emptying the shelf of the mug. Could I heal someone by emptying them of injuries?” That sounded ridiculous, but maybe that was how Sages worked.
“That sounds ridiculous,” Eithan said, and once again Lindon wondered if the man was reading his mind. “Some of those actions may be in line with your Icon, and some of them certainly are not, but you’ll have to feel that out for yourself.”

Bloodline (Cradle Book 9)