Light is a beautiful thing. It can provide hope during dark times, dance with color and emotion, light a path, and even save lives. Light is also destructive. Lasers and magnified rays, ultraviolet burns, and magic spells. In the case of Nava, most unnatural light was pure, Divine blessings and gifts given by the Goddess Ofes to her followers. Other types existed but were heavily limited in number.

[Light Mages] were among the rarest of common mage classes, unlike fire or earth which among the most common. There was very limited knowledge about light, the Goddess herself saw to that. She wanted her followers to be unique, to be strong, to be more. She was light and light was her, why wouldn't she want to have say over her type of magic.

Among the Mage Guild, there were many talented [Light Mages]. Most were noncombative, opting to live the of research and development. They brought creations into life, only to be overshadowed by a certain Lost Lord. Before Lester, mage lights were the only real lighting option. Lamps, candles, and torches existed but they could not light a building all that well. There was the risk of fires and accidents, both of which the average [Storekeeper] wanted no part in. Thus, the Age of Light was born.

It was a short-lived Age, some [Scholars] didn’t even acknowledging the artificially named period. The Guild takes pride in their creations and mana lights were no exception. Most would agree that mana lights were progressive and incredibly useful, but they would also question the Guild’s choice in naming an entire era. Maybe the Guild saw a future where aspiring mages weren’t cast away from the Church’s views on [Light Mages], maybe the thought the reign of Ofes was coming to an end. Maybe someone simple liked mana lights a lot.

Regardless, the Age was short lived and looked down on by others. But the Guild was right about something; mana lights were revolutionary. Monsters could be kept at bay in larger radiuses, homes could be protected in the dead of night, and cities became safer. At least, until a ripple was cast by Lester.

Lester was on friendly terms with the Guild, often quoting them as a source of inspiration for and longevity. But his accomplishment were his, not the Guilds. They could not profit off anything the man made, as they were funded by private investors or simply out of Lester’s pocket. He never shared the secrets of his light, primary in respects to Ofes, but he did share other things. He wrote a few instruction manuals that described how to become a [Light Mage].

The years following his publication became the true Age of Light. Ofes was beginning to lower her restrain on light, finally accepting that change was coming. The Guild was happy as their ranks increased; the people of Nava were happy as the world became safer. Even Lester was happy. He had all the money he could possibly dream of; he was helping the less fortunate and he had people to call family.

One of those was Icarus, his bond. The bond was an elemental that took the form of an owl. What type of owl depended on his mood, but he was always feathered. In resent years, Icarus had become somewhat stuck. He lived in his partners house, waiting. He missed adventuring and traveling. He missed talking to old acquaintance and discussing various topics with [Shopkeepers] or [Veterans].

But, like most light, Icarus was beautiful. Appearances hardly mattered to the elemental. But the fact remains that Icarus is light, and light is beautiful. When he casts spells or materializes, people stop and stare. They watch with wonder and amazement as light flips and rotates around, creating shadows and nothing less than a marvel. And that is why after the fire was put-out on the island in the center of Lesterwood, people stood and watched. Fires were not uncommon in Lesterwood, in Nava really, mana lights limited them significantly, but fire would always remain in some sort of capacity. The average town fire would be doused by [Water Mages] on shift acting as a fire brigade, or civilians forming a line of bucket passing to and from a well. But, after the fire was put-out, everyone would go back to their lives.

The people stayed and watched the island not because they were worried about the destruction. They watched as an owl-eagle surveying the land from high above. The owl was easily multiple times larger than the average Human, unpractically large even. Icarus increased his size not for combat but for intimidation. Below him, within a dome of pure light, was his home. Part of it was burnt and charred and he simply wanted it protected.

Inside the dome, the current residents sat together. They had just come together after a full search of the property. The owl, the keeper of the house and overseer, said he did not see what cause the fire. He surmised it was a high-level invisibility spell but was wary of such of powerful mage not leaving any evidence. Thus, the search began. Nothing was found and it became apparent that the flames were started in the kitchen.

“Clammy did you see anything?” Vel asked once Icarus stopped his swooping.

“I’m sorry.” Clammy said in a statement that sounded of guild. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Clammy…?”

“I-I was c-cooking dinner, and I had a vision.” She said, trying to fight back the tears.

A collective sigh of relief filled the room as a clear picture of what had just transpired was created in each of the resident’s minds. Clammy was making dinner and had a vision, a fire started and soon went out of control. Icarus assumed his simply missed the start of an attack and went into full scale defense mode. Max and the others arrived as Bishop Celenia and Belopi struggled to pull Clammy out of the flames.

Clammy was more than shaken up. Most of her clothes and hair were burnt, leaving the clothes ruined and leaving her in need of a serious haircut. She was covered in soot, much like the others but to a degree more. She was forcing herself not to cry but doing rather poorly. Clammy, since Esmel, has been plagued by visions of the future. Because of that, she had been staying far from combat or anything dangerous, the fear of freezing up was too much.

“Clammy. Look at me.” Icarus said. The girl slowly and shyly moved her head to look at the bird. “It is not your fault. Think nothing of the damages. They can be repaired rather easily with magic. And I’m sure and [Builder] or [Carpenter] would love the chance to enter the mysterious home in the heart of Lesterwood.”

“Bu-t B-ut-“ She tried to say something, but Icarus cut her off.

“I know you have been looking into… your condition, with Bishop. I see the books you read and often read over them myself after you are done. They are not helping, I know, but do not fault yourself. This is not your fault and I know you are trying to remedy the situation. Things can be rebuilt, but you cannot. So, stand tall, you are stronger than you think.”

Clammy didn’t say anything, and no one else spoke. Icarus always seemed to know what to say. A few minutes passed before Bishop spoke.

“What did you see.” This has been a recurring question of Bishop’s. He kept a small journal of all of Clammy’s vision. The first entry was the old woman exploding at the class rock garden in Esmel, and every entry past that has been written down with a certain level of care. His reasoning was that if he could find a pattern between the vision, that may lead into a breakthrough. It was a pipedream, but one that required very little to maintain.

“A man, sitting in a private residential room in a tavern. It was from his perspective this time. No discernible words or numbers, nor did he look out the window. I could see his reflection in the dresser mirror. He looked like a completely normal guy. Normal build, short hair almost like Max’s, dirty like he had just worked a long day, and I could feel how tired he was. Then he laid down and went to sleep”

Bishop had been working with Clammy on remembering her vision in their entirety. It helped him with classifying the vision in his journal as well as helping Clammy find small details that could be important in some regards. Since Esmel, she hadn’t had any visions that directly related to her, per say, but Esmel proved that they may be vital. There were two type of vision Bishop was able to find. First person, where Clammy was the subject of the foresight and what Bishop calls ‘Ghost like’. Within those, Clammy is simply a ghost watching events unfold. Bishop finished writing the description in his journal directly under the entry about a cat and how it knocked over a vase.

“I think we should move up our trip to see the Prophet of the Mountain. Maybe leave the day after next?” Bishop said to Clammy after putting his journal away.

Clammy meekly nodded, having thought the same thing. With that, the impromptu meeting ended. Vel was taken away by Icarus to discuss the damages as well as the fallout from his little stunt in the air. Bishop consoled a pleading Belopi, who was begging him to stay an extra day. She knew it would do no good and that Clammy needed help, but she still didn’t feel right with just accepting that her boyfriend was going to disappear so suddenly.

Clammy sat in deep thought. She twisted the wooden link bracelet Bishop had given her. It was supposed to tell her when she was dreaming and when she was awake. It was a small comfort when the real world was burning down.

“Clammy, Celenia.” Max said standing from the table. “Come on, lets go pick up dinner before all of the restaurants close. Along the way, I can tell you how Reep beat this asshole [Lancer] to the ground.”

Reep rolled her eyes, Celenia looked curiously at Reep, and Clammy briefly smiled. They ate something reminiscent of tacos that night.

“Are you sure this what you want, my Lord?” The thinly man asked.

“Make it better, obviously. But I’m also not opposed if there were some irregularities in the lines.” Max answered.

It was the following day from the fire and Max decided to run some errands. He accompanied Vel to the city, as she was the one in charge of hiring the [Repairmen]. For some reason Vel seemed excited. Max had accidently stumbled in on Vel and Icarus talking long into the night about possible design renovations. She carried a set of notes along with a practically unlimited supply of money. She also wore a very uncharacteristic smile, one that made the others feel weird.

Max and Emi were standing in the seal and crest shop mayor Silverjewl had deemed worthy enough for the new Lord while Vel was fulling her duties in other shops. It was a small and quant shop, only housing a few shelves and a smooth stained wooden counter. Every item on display was nothing short of luxurious. Hand crafted and well made, example stamps along with their respective punch lined the shelves in neat and tidy rows. Glittering wax and the tools needed to seal envelopes to one side while small banners with the same designs on the other.

The design Max had come up with was no doubt simple. Max was never one for ornate or opulent items. He didn’t care for the showing of wealth even back on Earth. He drove an old and downright lame car; he wore old comfortable clothes rather than new and trendy ones and never was one for having the newest phone. And that sense of restraint seemed to carry over to Nava. The design he made was of waves. A minimalistic and slightly abstract, the waves were drawn in such a way that movement was created. Onlooker would be able to tell the direction the water was flowing without any magical intervention. The weight of the pen stroke rose and fell with the wave, adding a third dimension that Max hoped would be hard to replicate.

“Usually, nobles tend to have more… Extravagant tastes…” The man regarded Max for a moment. “I can see that you are not the average noble. Young and… First born?”

“Head, actually. But you're right, I wasn’t a noble until a few months ago. I was a nobody, but circumstances brought me into a whole new world, if you will.”

Max hoped the man would take his words as a metaphor rather than literal. It was a lot harder than he would have ever thought to keep a simple secret. Practically every sentence he spoke about his past life had to be meticulously crafted. If he wanted to reference a quote or media, he had to phrase it in such a way that it would make sense to any Nava native.

“Different indeed.” The man said seemly missing Max’s slip of the tongue. “It should be done if three days. I had originally thought that the package order the mayor purchased was somewhat… Large. But since you are a new noble, his choice makes sense now. Remember to bring proof of identity when you pick up the order, my nephew sometimes runs the shop when I don’t have to create anything.”

Max said his thanks and walked out. The man had hardly even glance at Emi, having most like seen countless rare and exotic familiars other nobles had brought in. It was sad to say, but lately Emi has been somewhat of a nuisance when walking the through the city. It wasn’t her fault, but most seemed to gawk and stare at the little monster. Her size was steadily increasing which didn’t help and along with how recognizable Max was now that he lost an arm. Going to the city was being to become a chore.

Emi, however, didn’t seem to mind. She loved the attention. Most adults would shy away from her approach, but kids were unafraid. Max couldn’t count the number of times he was asked if a small child could pet the monster. Normally kids would run in packs. It provided the kid with the necessary safety and security when faced with everyday dangers but in situations like this where natural curiosity overcame the instinct of survival, they were groups of walking detours. It wasn’t all bad, however, kids reminded Max that the world was not all bleak and doom. His time in Esmel still came back to him every now and them. He remembered the gore and rot of the bodies in the Space Safe, he remembered the countless sheets covering the dead in the mass outdoor mortuary, and he remembered the deserted school yard during the undead siege.

The next stop for Max was the bookstore Spell Books and Tomes. Max had a coupon, and he would be damned if he didn’t use it. He thought about waiting for Vel, but she had assured him she’d be awhile. With the chime of a bell, the door to the shop opened and Max was instantly overwhelmed. The shop was something hoarder’s house. The place practically overflowing with books. Every ounce of shop seemed to be taken up in some capacity.

Shelves seemed to be crooked and randomly placed, severely limiting walking room if the books in the pathways weren’t already. The only clean spot seemed to be the doorway. How ironic it would be if the door of a shop couldn’t open because of the number of wares for sale. A slender old man sat on a stool by what Max assumed to be Nava’s equivalent to cash register. Normally stores had a backroom that customers weren’t allowed in, thus limiting the use of registers. This shop, however, had no backroom.

What appeared to be torn down walls extended the room deeper than most similar sized buildings. Shops usually don’t have many items for sale. Each shop had their own niche and product, but without industrialization and mass creation, stock was usually limited. And that showed in how big storefronts were. The man looked up from the book he was reading just long enough to mumble to Max about letting him know if he needed help. Max liked this place. It felt real to him, it wasn’t a façade of trying to seem high end or worth more than it actually was. It was a man’s life collection, one that he had no shame in showing off.

Max started looking through the stacks and piles. He had no morsel of hope to actually find anything he needed in this mess, but he still took the time to cover browse. Max was never a big reader on Earth. He did however like going to the resale bookstore and peruse around. It was a time killer while being oddly pleasant. If he could find an interesting book, great! If not, no harm done. He pulled book after book, reading the title, and setting them back in their spot. Some books he had to delicately move, as to not rip covers or topple stacks. The store carried many broad types of books. Magical, nonmagical, bedtime stores, fantasy, romance, instruction books, spell books, and even encyclopedias and dictionaries. There seemed to be a distinct abundance of history and practical knowledge over the fictional sort, however.

As he went, he started accumulating a small bundle of potential purchases. Titles like The Age of Umbrage and the Effects of Time, How We See the World Within the Shadow of the Gods, Magical Ideas, and Fables Throughout History. The first one was simple a title that got Max’s attention, he had no idea what it was about, but it sounded good. Gods were an interest of Max’s. Having met two, he seemed to have a skewed view of who the Gods really were. When he skimmed through Magical Ideas, it was full of diagrams and runic and ward diagrams. It, again, piqued his interest. Fables throughout History, even if it was a children’s book still would provide Max culture and general knowledge. Max brough the books to the front where the man gave him a look over.

“Odd choice of books.” The man said while brushing his grey beard with his craggy fingers.

Max shrugged and said, “I also need some books for classes at the Mage Guild. Couldn’t find those.”

“Class list.” The man demanded and held out a hand like he was magically expecting a paper to appear in. With a roll of his eyes, Max moved his arm behind his back like he was reaching into a back pocket. He returned holding his class list which he promptly handed to the grouchy man.

“If you have anything specialized in water or space magic, I would also like to see those. As well as runes.”

The man looked up from this list, grumbled something and began chanting a spell. Powerwords, as Max learned chants were called, were used in place of true mana systems. They worked with catalysts such as runes or as a catalyst itself when paired with certain classes, acting as a replacement for mana. Max guessed that in this case the man was making use of a class attribute to fuel the spell. Books started flying through the air. They dodged and weaved past shelves and around stacks, but eventually arrived at the counter. Four books of various sizes and thickness laid before Max. He checked the titles with the list Domic had written, confirming they were the correct ones. The man grumbled something again, wrote a few words down on a piece of paper and enacted the spell again. A single book flew through the air and landed with a dull thud. The book was thick and almost crumbling. Pages were bent and crinkled, lopsided and torn, the thing had definitely been mistreated.

“Anything else?” The man asked.

“If you have a few blank journals or tomes, I would also like a couple of those.”

The man held off on rolling his eyes, but Max could tell he wanted to. Again, the man wrote something down on paper and again he spoke with power. Two small and tightly bound twin journals appeared along with an oversized leather-bound tome. It had a metal mechanical lock and accompanying key, which the man promptly opened. He flipped the through the first few filled pages finding the first blank one. With a strong tug, he ripped out the previous owner’s work.

“Delightful.” Max said amused. “How much?”

“Twenty gold for these four,” The man gestured at the class books, “eight gold for these four,” gesturing at the four Max had picked out, “one gold for the blank ones, and three hundred and sixty-five for this one.” The man slapped his hand down on the broken and misused tome.

“Why is that one so expensive?”

“Not many copies were made, and this one is the complete set.”

Every Rune was the title of the book in question. Max flipped it open and leafed through the pages. Each page was dedicated to one rune. A massive drawing along with a brief summary of the effects took up the whole page. There were no instruction or tutorial, just a simple reference book. Max mentally shrugged, money was not really an obstacle at this point, and he figured he could get a lot of use out of a book like this. Especially if he really dove into runes like he expected himself to.

“Alright three hundred and ninety-five gold in total, buuuuut I have a coupon.” Max handed the man the slip of paper. The man proceeded to curse.

“Two eighty-five.” The man said after calming down.

Max made the same back pocket motion as before, this time pulling out a sack of exact gold. Max winked at the man before he skittered out with Emi. The next stop was a rather large fish market. Emi was excited, whoever could guess why. The market itself was nothing special, just an open set of stalls along the water’s edge and main commercial dock. It was lively, however. People were shouting prices and sales, others were window-shopping and inspecting, birds chirped with enthusiasm trying to steal scraps, and the distinctive smell of dead fish was in the air.

Most of the fish were on ice, preserving the money maker while also adding to the chilled atmosphere. A few tanks sat in the background, allowing customers to buy the freshest and most sought-after species. Besides fish there were freshwater shellfish, smaller than what Max was used to on Earth but relatively the same otherwise. Crustaceans such as crayfish and small entirely blue crab took residence in their frozen death bed, but those were few and far between. Lesterwood definitely had a larger market for fish rather than other water dwellers.

Max had to buy Emi a few unique types of fish, she wouldn’t hear otherwise. She walked the rows finding fish she had never seen before, begging Max to buy her one. The fish she wanted were either rare or only caught further away then Emi’s hunting ground. The [Fishmongers] seemed to take a liking to Emi, feeding her treats as she walked by. ‘It’s not every day we see a familiar that likes fish this much’ one curious woman told Max.

The real reason for coming to the market was so Max could identify the fish he killed in the deep waters of his inner world. After asking around, Max was told to find am old [Fisherman] by the name of Arnild. Arnild was what Max could only describe as gruff. He was short and stocky, thickly bearded, and muscular even in his old age. He wore a simple water-proof overalls and enchanted non-slick boots.

“Hello, my name is Max. I was told you’d be able to identify some fish that I have killed.” Max told the man.

“Aye, I could. But why would I. I don’t have all the time in the day, now do I?” Arnild said with bite.

“Oh… Well, I have a lot of fish, if you want some of them, you can have them. Is that a fair price?”

“I have no use for being paid in fish, boy, I can just go catch them myself.”

“I don’t think these fish are from around Lesterwood… But I can go somewhere else if you don’t want to take a look, don’t worry.”

The man seemed to regard him for a second. Between a missing arm and Emi, Max looked weird. Not the mention the way he talked was borderline perfect, a downside of the Universal Langue Stone.

“Let me see one then.” Arnild said.

“Do you mind if we go in the back, I don’t want others to see.” Max asked.

The made the old man raise an eyebrow not seeing any fish actually on Max, but he said nothing and motioned for him to follow. The backroom was nothing more than a slaughterhouse. Guts lied to the side in buckets or piles, fish carcasses lined ice filled troughs and the distinctive sound of crunching came with every step as scales were stepped on. Max went right up to a table and plopped down the smallest fish Max had. It was a small purple-blue fish with streaks of silver. It had two eyes, fins, gills, and a tail, it was nothing special, but Arnild’s reaction was, however. Max’s inventory called the fish Nightingale Snapper, but as the man careful examined the specimen, it was obvious he did not recognize it.

“The ocean is plenty big; I can’t know them all.” Arnild said. “What else do you have.”

Max moved on to the next one. North Spotted Tang, a small yellow polka dotted scaleless fish, it had small teeth and reflective fins. Again, the man didn’t know what it was. Saltwing Snapper, a red and green fish with a large jaw and fins that were reminiscent of wings. No idea, again. Max tried a crab, next, ghost Pincher Crab, a white and gold shelled animal. The man shook his head.

“Never in my time as a [Fisherman] have I seen any of these. Just how deep did you go?”

“Not sure, it was dark if that helps.” Max said.

“Dark? As in nighttime?” Arnild asked.

“No, as in deep. I dove for these.”

The face Arnild made cause Max to think he shouldn’t have said that. It was clear that was not a normal thing to do, especially since [Fishermen] simply catch from boats. Diving was almost unheard of in the industry of fishing. Some would breathe-dive and retrieve sponges or lobsters, but nothing like what Max was talking of. People just couldn’t hold their breath that long.

“I’m a [Water Mage].” Max clarified. “I can make bubbles of air around my head and dive longer than most with that.”

“I get the feelin that’s not all you can do.” Arnild grumbled.

Both men staired at each other for a few moments, before Max got unreasonable uncomfortable. Its good to know that Nava and Earth have similar fisherman types. Boat life must be rough, Max thought.

“I have one more I’m willing to show you, but you have to keep it a secret.” Max said. “And you can’t keep this one.” He quickly added.

Max unceremoniously dropped the head of the hydra he killed on the table. It was significantly bigger than the others, and significantly more terrifying. Now that Max could actually see the monster, it was clear that if it got its tentacles on him, he would have died. Between its hand sized teeth and its spiked scales, it would have been certain death.

“Rilis’s Scepter!” Arnild gasped. “What in the name of Rilis is this?”

“A single head of a Shallow Water Hydra.” Max answered. “Who’s Rilis?”

“A hydra? A God’s lovin hydra! This is no hydra I’ve heard of!”

The man began to carefully inspect the decapitated fish head. After a few minutes of sifting through blood, muscle, and fat, Arnild looked convinced.

“It has the poison sack still intact. It is a bloody hydra.” Arnild sat down, winded from the over excretion. “How in Rilis’s name did you kill one?”

“Shot Ice Lances at it until it died. It was pretty easy, actually.”

“Kid, listen. Hydras are highly territorial. It should have killed you as soon as you entered it den.”

“Well, I think it was asleep. I had to get pretty close to it before it started move. Hells, I didn’t even know it was in that rift before I jumped over it.”

“Lucky spud.” Arnild grumbled. “What are you going to do with it? The meat is toxic, but the parts of it are worth a great deal. Claws, teeth, scales, heart, poison sack, I’d buy them all.”

“For now, I’m keeping everything. I don’t need the fame of killing a hydra right now. You’ll be my first stop if when I do decide to sell parts, if you keep quiet that is.”

“I swear on Rilis.” Arnild did some kind of sailor’s salute.

“Who’s Rilis?” Max asked.

“You don’t know who Rilis is? He’s the Lord of the Seas, on his way to becoming a full-on God at this rate.”

“Interesting. Well, then I better go.” Max collected the hydra head and stepped out with Emi. The last stop before meeting up with Vel was a simple non-magical jeweler. He purchased a nice ring with a few bright gems embedded into the band. It was supposed to serve the purpose of a decoy. If he ever needed to remove items from his inventory, the ring would allow him the illusion of being a rich noble rather than being a Lost One. He also bought some scrap rings in preparation for rune crafting.

Max found Vel sitting on a bench by the turned-off fountain they choose as a meeting place. She was carefully eyeing colored strips of paper, matching them with sample cloths and fabrics. She even had a few cuts of carpet and squares of wood. She was in full swing renovation mode, which was good, Max thought, Vel needed a hobby.

“Vel!” Max said sitting besides her. “Look what I got from the bookstore! It has every rune.”

Vel eyed the crippled book. “How much was it?”

“Like three fifty or something.”

“You got scammed.”