Into the Tower, The Birth of Magic

READ FROM THE BEGINNING: The First Page

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“Don’t worry! Come find me when your done!” There it was again, her voice, sounding all beautiful, almost like a song.
“Where should I find you?” He asked.
She smiled and gave him a wink before stepping back and disappearing into the crowd without another word. He laughed, that was just like her. Though, he was sure that she would be the one to find him. Branch stared off into the crowd for a moment, a part of him twisted at not going with her. It seemed to root him to the spot. He let it go and turned back toward Mageform.
The tower rose up, like a great tree on a barren plain. It stood out and above the rest of the Clarity. A winding, almost woven look was worked into its stone, it was a shaping like no other, a massive scale of the wonders of today. Four streaks wound their way around it, weaving and playing amongst themselves as they climbed up the side of the tower. Like it was laced together, and the ridges formed the edges of the binding. At some points a couple would swirl and twist together, forming mesmerizing patterns and shapes, some beautiful, others haunting visages that resembled people.
Branch walked toward the massive doors, they were easily three times his height and just as wide. It was open for any to walk in or out. The first floor was a great museum of all the forms of magery. There were many, and to a visitor it could easily overwhelm their idea of its complexity. Branch paused before a display of Growth, the sculptor had done their best to capture in stone a moving, shifting evolving thing. To capture magic, in image, was no easy task. Let alone translate it to word, or craft.
That was part of it. To be able to translate it to the physical.
The tower was busy, people milled throughout the open floors. There was a library, a café that served hot drinks and cold desserts, there were Mageform crafts and tools, made and imbued with various mage’s talents. Some were illuminated, a magic that placed light into the workings of a thing. Messages could be written, designs woven into cloth or stone or metal, some would absorb some light while reflecting others, or shimmer, or dull the brightness that touched them. Branch had learned a little and always wanted to do more with it, but never seemed to get around to it. It was a beautiful thing, to place light in something, he could see how it was much like a growth.
He briefly wondered if having learned another form of magic would make the next ones easier, if there would be a interlocking understanding. Some had claimed just that in the past, great mages of their era. Others claimed they had been born that way, granted access to a greater power from birth. Branch believed only that someone could do what they thought they could, little more, and far less.
Branch pushed the thoughts away, he would have time for them once he was finished at the tower. The stairs rose for mountainous levels. Endless step upon step, and he was prepared by the time he arrived at the Magehelm, the Grand Mage’s floor. The four of them shared the top floor of Mageform, each took a name of the seasons, forgoing their own. They were what shaped Mageform and its direction in the world.

 

 

#writerofage

#birthofmagic

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