First Divination

[18:28] It was an interesting perspective, even if Lysariel didn't necessarily agree with its principles. Though one could argue that Lysariel's worldview was far too optimistic, yet he held firm in his beliefs.

After his own observations, it seemed merely like common sense.

"Yet.. even with this 'Ragnarök' that you speak of, we remain here today. I'm not necessarily arguing that we are incapable of causing ripples, just like Ragnarök, but instead that our ripples are insignificant on the cosmic scale."

"That even if we cause disasters, even if we damage the lifestream, even if we disturb... Eternia will mend itself, as it has for millennia."

Lysariel saw their impact much akin to that of ants upon the world. They were far too small to do significant damage, at least from what he's seen, researched, and observed.

"To put it in another perspective-" A sharp inhale once more. "Hmm." A sudden pause. Thinking, wondering, before coming to the perfect analogy.

"Take a seed," he continued, "as it sprouts, it disrupts the soil, breaking the surface in its quest for sunlight. Is this disruption harmful? Or is it not the very essence of new life, of progress?"

"I propose that we are much like that seed. Yes, our existence creates ripples, but ripples are not always harbingers of disaster. Often, they are precursors of change, the first echoes of an evolving symphony."

"For, like the seed, our disruptions are not the end, but the beginning of something new altogether. Just as what likely happened with your Ragnarök, wouldn't you say?"

Lysariel remained an academic at heart, an intellectual, someone who challenged the status quo. It was his calling to question natural beliefs, to always push the envelope, to find new understandings and meanings.

But with that out of the way, he focused upon mention of his 'rituals.'

"I commune with spirits, yes, and they provide me with insight. Whispers on the wind, I see strands of fate, of the timestream materializing. Call it divination, but there have been times I have accurately predicted events. Though it's not always clear."

"I could demonstrate, if you're curious."
(Lysariel)
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[18:28] * You have been awarded 10 Levels! *
[18:57] "Dost thou not think that were the realm solely inhabited by fiends and the vilest miscreants, it would face annihilation?

If naught but demons and the most abhorrent and depraved beings did reside, would our world not cease to exist... For long?"

He firmly held the belief that the world wasn't simply black and white. Instead, he believed the clash of contrasting ideals as the driving force behind the world's stability. As he spoke, each point he made resonated with those listening who acknowledged his words with a nod.

"I find myself neither fully in accord nor entirely at odds. I see kernels of verity within both our perspecties...

Thast not beheld the feats and deeds wrought by humanity and mortals, nor hast thou borne witness to the valiant efforts of other mortals to curb their inexorable slide into chaos."

It is possible that there were events unknown to both that could have potentially led to the downfall of Eternia, but were thwarted by courageous heroes. Then again, it is also possible that none occurred at all.

He acknowledged Lysariel's inclination towards such topics, recognizing the wisdom that mirrored his own youthful ideals. Moreover, he enjoyed Lysariel's intellectual nature always eager to expand his knowledge.

Regardless, the matter of rituals it was. For he contemplated creating his own set of personal rituals. His aim was to please Tzernobog and potentially tap into the power or realm associated with the deity, wherever it may reside.

Deep in thought, he absent mindedly caressed his chin, feeling the texture of his fair complexion while the predictions spoken by Lysariel seemed strangely intriguing.

"Pray... Unveil thy sacred rites, then." He simply requests.
(Edel)
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[18:58] "Dost thou not think that were the realm solely inhabited by fiends and the vilest miscreants, it would face annihilation?

If naught but demons and the most abhorrent and depraved beings did reside, would our world not cease to exist... For long?"

He firmly held the belief that the world wasn't simply black and white. Instead, he believed the clash of contrasting ideals as the driving force behind the world's stability. As he spoke, each point he made resonated with those listening who acknowledged his words with a nod.

"I find myself neither fully in accord nor entirely at odds. I see kernels of verity within both our perspecties...

Thou hast not beheld the feats and deeds wrought by humanity and mortals, nor hast thou borne witness to the valiant efforts of other mortals to curb their inexorable slide into chaos."

It is possible that there were events unknown to both that could have potentially led to the downfall of Eternia, but were thwarted by courageous heroes. Then again, it is also possible that none occurred at all.

He acknowledged Lysariel's inclination towards such topics, recognizing the wisdom that mirrored his own youthful ideals. Moreover, he enjoyed Lysariel's intellectual nature always eager to expand his knowledge.

Regardless, the matter of rituals it was. For he contemplated creating his own set of personal rituals. His aim was to please Tzernobog and potentially tap into the power or realm associated with the deity, wherever it may reside.

Deep in thought, he absent mindedly caressed his chin, feeling the texture of his fair complexion while the predictions spoken by Lysariel seemed strangely intriguing.

"Pray... Unveil thy sacred rites, then." He simply requests.

(fix)
(Edel)
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[19:12] "Very well. I have performed similar rituals in the past, but never with a stranger, never with purpose."

It had always been practice, simply methodology to tune himself to the whispers of the stream of time. To the Spirits of Time who spoke to him, granting him insight in what was yet to come.

For he had seen many glimpses, heard many tales, but even now he continued to struggle with putting it all together. "Just don't expect to be foolproof, is all."

"Fates change, the stream of time can branch off. I may see snippets of something yet to come, hear whispers from the spirits of what your future has in store, but they are tricky, cryptic in their delivery."

"No matter-"

A deep breath, as Lysariel lowered himself into a sitting position, gesturing for Edel to join him. The ritual was best performed while sitting meditatively.

Slender digits moved to his pack, before retrieving his silver, silk blindfold. An ornate design was spread over the top of it, in black thread, seemingly indiscernible runework, but it would inhibit his sight without doubt. A silence descending between the two, as Lysariel began.

"Veil of midnight, bind my sight,
In obscurity, find the light."

Quietly, he put the blindfold behind his head, tying one knot, before continuing.

"Spirits of Time, heed this pledge,
In your river, I stand on the edge."

A second knot, the blindfold nearly secured in place.

"By the murmur of moments, by the hush of years,
Through the veil, I quell my fears.
In silence deep and darkness sheer,
I seek, I listen, I revere."

As the last knot found its place, the world to Lysariel fell into a pool of serene darkness, yet his senses felt heightened, as if eager to step into the dance withthe unseen.

His hands rose, moving through the air like a maestro conducting a symphony of silence. Fingers splayed, they seemed to grasp and tease at threads of the unseen stream of time, weaving together an intricate ballet of anticipation and mystery. The whispers began, soft murmurs at first, barely audible, then growing in intensity, coiling and uncoiling like strands of time twining around the pulse of the present.

In this specific moment, it would appear as if Lysariel was possessed, his demeanor changing entirely. As if he was being utilized as a conduit for someone else to speak through.

"Edel," Lysariel began, his voice echoing through the silence, "In the river of time, your current stands strong, refusing to be swayed by the rapids of destiny. You, a stone steadfast amid the stream." His fingers traced unseen arcs in the air, painting an invisible portrait of the young warrior's fate.

"The whispers speak of a battle, the likes of which you've never faced before. Interestingly, however, it is not of steel and magic, but of will and heart. They murmur of shadows looming, yet within you shines a beacon, a lantern in the storm."

His hands gracefully sculpted the shape of a flame in the dark, a symbol of hope and resilience. He continued, his voice a lullaby threading its way through their shared silence.

"But oh, the shadows grow long, dear Edel. Know this, even the strongest must learn the dance of surrender, of trusting the winds of change. To bend, not to break. A storm tests the might of the oak, which fights the gale, only to break and fall. Yet it is the willow that endures, bending with the gust, whispering back to the wind with its leaves."

As the last words slipped from Lysariel's lips, his hands lowered slowly, their dance coming to an end. The silent symphony of his divination hung in the air, a potent mix of cryptic prophecy and a vivid depiction of Edel's future challenges. The whispers receded, the strands of fate slipping away from Lysariel's sight altogether.
(Lysariel)
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[19:12] * You have been awarded 10 Levels! *
[19:41] "Aye, I am aware that such rites do not always yield a definite resolution." He said.


He followed Lysariel's leader, settling himself on the polished wooden floor and crossing his legs. His posture seemed tailored for the sacred rituals that awaited.

Edel observed attentively as the blindfold adorned the face of his companion, its silver silk adorned with designs that piqued his curiosity, prompting him to try and decipher their origin.


He didn't question the reason behind his companion's flailing hands in the midst of it all. He heard the faint whispers carried by the wind, a sign of the ritual taking effect. Besides, everyone had their unique way of connecting with the spirits, particularly people like Lysariel, gifted with the ability to foretell destiny itself.

Nonetheless, as Lysariel began to speak, the Magyar warrior found himself unable to utter a word amidst the incantations. Finally, his destiny unraveled beforehim, albeit veiled in cryptic and unclear messages.

A mere smile adorned his face. There was of hope that things would ultimately improve in the future. Better than they are now. He must simply endure.

"Hrm... I see..

The art of prophesying destiny does bewilder me, for I ponder upon the means by which thou hast attained such prowess. It do bring me great joy to learn that my own future is in good hands.

Yet.. art thou able to decipher thine own fate?"

He sought solace in introspection, for he planned on using the words said here as fuel to propel himself forward. Later.

Now? He was curious. If those endowed with the skill of foreseeing fate could unravel their own destinies

"Perhaps. Thou art able to lend thy aid in a matter I yearn to reveal."

(Edel)
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[19:55] "I had a teacher, once upon a time, a man who had visited Final Frontier years ago. I was but a boy, but he told me things that I've safeguarded until this day. He actually-"

A long pause, Lysariel contemplating it all introspectively. He was rebellious, perhaps dangerously so, but that was to be expected of a thirteen year old boy.

The burgeoning spirit of youth always sought to push past boundaries laid out by their predecessors.

"He told me that while the art can divine the fates of others, to never gaze into your own stream of time. He said something like... when you stare into that abyss, it can and will stare back."

"But I want to try."

The thought brought him a large degree of trepidation, naturally. To go against what was forbidden? The thought alone brought excitement, yet nervousness all the same.

"There's nothing you need to do. I tend to forget things while I commune with the spirits, while I gaze into the stream of time."

"So I just want you to witness what I say, in case I can't recall. Can you do that?"

It seemed simple enough, didn't it? Besides, he was excited for what his future had in store, and perhaps the voices would tell him.
(Lysariel)
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[19:55] * You have been awarded 6 Levels! *
[20:05] Edel maintained his current position, offering a nod of agreement to his companion.

"Of course." In addition to that, Edel goes the extra mile and reaches for a paper and pen, intending to jot down whatever Lysariel might unknowingly say.

"You may begin!" There's an undeniable level of excitement emanating from him, as if he genuinely yearned to witness the unraveling of this. There was a certain allure in not only having his own destiny revealed to him but also observing another fate mage decipher their own path.

The allure of breaking rules granted the prospect such intrigue, beyond what it would have been if it were simply allowed and unforbidden.
(Edel)
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[20:17] Lysariel nodded at Edel, setting the terms in a soft voice. "Just remember, Edel. Observe everything, speak nothing."

He could feel the tension in the room heightening, as he slowly began the act of sinking into the world he had come to know, yet revere in equal measure.

"By the strands of fate, may the unseen be seen," he murmured. He felt the familiar darkness sweep over him and held out his hands, waiting for the whispers.

His sight surrendered to the comforting darkness, his hands began their dance. His whispered words to the unseen spirits filled the silent room. It started just like any other divination, but as the strands of his own fate unraveled, he felt a shift. The familiar whispers transformed into distressing, discordant echoes, gnawing at his very soul.

"Shadows... symphony in discord... lost in the labyrinth... knots...," he stammered, his voice echoing the terror that had seized his heart. His hands faltered mid-air, convulsing involuntarily. The harmonious whispers were now frenzied and scrambled, clawing through his mind, dragging him further into the abyss.

"Drowned in echoes... chaos... madness... the abyss," his voice trembled, breaking down into incoherent mumblings. The unseen threads twisted around his consciousness, coiling like serpents, each whisper a painful hiss, each vision a terrifying specter.

"A dance with shadows...a symphony of discordance...lost...lost in the labyrinth of the mind...fate entwined with madness...the silent orchestra descends into cacophony..."

The frenzied whispers became screams, filling the room, filling his mind. His hands moved uncontrollably, trying to grasp at the threads that seemed to twist and writhe around him.

In a final surge of sheer will, he ripped the blindfold off. The sudden silence was deafening, save for his own ragged breathing. His eyes, wide with horror, darted around the room until theylanded on Edel. "Write that down. All that you can rememebr," he managed to blurt out, each word echoing with raw fear.

Staring at his shaking hands, a horrific realization dawned upon him. The monstrous abyss he had glimpsed was not some external terror - it was a reflection of his own future, a mirror to his soul. He felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he looked back up at Edel.

"Promise me," he pleaded, his voice reduced to a mere whisper, "Promise me, you won't let me do that again. Swear to me, you won't let me gaze into my own future ever again." The terror etched in his features was enough to cement this moment in both their memories, a night when the abyss stared back, scarring him indelibly.

While he asked Edel to promise, it was really a question directed to himself. A warning he hadn't heeded from his mentor, he did precisely what he was told not to, and he had no intention to do so ever again.
(Lysariel)