ThatHumanMage
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143. Chromaticism
🕑 Added 2025-07-09 03:33:54 +0000 UTCWyn knew it was a dream.
It wasn’t because the location was dreamlike—it wasn’t. His childhood home in Straetum was just as he remembered it. The wooden flooring, built by his grandfather, was old, but had been maintained well. The windows let in the early morning light, and it streamed into the main room of the house, illuminating the motes of dust that drifted through the air.
It wasn’t because he felt anything wrong with his senses either. The comforting scent of baking bread reached his nose as he sat at the table eating porridge his mother had made for him. The porridge was sweet, but tartened with redberries in a way that few children could ever enjoy. Of course, it was the same as she always made it, so Wyn had grown accustomed to the taste.
Everything about it was oh, so real. But still, Wyn knew it was a dream.
He felt… light. Unburdened. That couldn’t be.
His mother watched him from across the table, her chin resting in her hands. Her face was younger than he remembered, lacking the wrinkles she’d come to have. She smiled serenely, eyes warm with love, like a blanket draped over his shoulders.
At the far end of the room, a small figure tottered across the wooden floor on unsteady legs. Elry, barely two, clutched a carved wooden horse in one hand, the other outstretched for balance.
“Be careful sweetie,” their mother called gently.
Elry giggled and dropped to his hands and knees with a thump, then laughed again, delighted with the sound his toy made when it clattered against the floor. Wyn turned to look at him and smiled. In the real world, Elry would be older now. Taller, and talkative. But here, he was just as he had been.
Wyn felt a strong palm ruffle his hair, and heard his father’s voice behind him. “So, got any big plans with Corrin today?”
Wyn took a deep breath, savoring the moment. Then, he leaned back, and stretched. When he spoke, his voice was higher-pitched than he was used to. “No, I think I’ll just relax and take the day off.”
“Didn’t you do that yesterday?” His father smirked. “I know I’ve said rest is important, but you won’t get to be a spirit knight by being lazy.”
“Well then I can help you today. Wouldn’t you love some father son bonding time?”
“What kind of eight-year-old are you?”
Wyn laughed, and it came out so easily. It might have been a dream, but he didn’t mind. And a part of him wished it could continue forever, this memory that never was.
But like all dreams, it didn’t last. In the next moment, he was in a different place, one he didn’t recognize.
He was overlooking a vast, vaguely circular cavern, wide enough that it stretched the edges of his peripheral vision. Perhaps cavern wasn’t the right word either, as that implied it was dark and damp—instead, a bright, golden sky shone from above, casting the space in a light like the day. Short, vibrant grass swayed gently under his feet, though there was no wind to explain its motion.
The cave walls bristled with enormous twisting roots and the massive splintered remains of long-dead trees, their trunks half embedded in the stone, supporting stone outcroppings that grew from the cave walls.
In the bottom of the cave, in the center, was a shallow pool of water surrounding a small island, upon which grew a single tree. The tree was small compared to those that lined the walls, perhaps only twenty feet tall, and it seemed as though the top had been broken off, and the trunk hollowed out. From within, a brilliant beam of golden energy shot upwards, vanishing into the light above.
The spirit song was strong here, wherever here was. It pulsed in Wyn’s soul, filling him with a tranquil calm, like a mother’s lullaby.
There was a sound of banging wood behind him, and Wyn spun to face it.
A small wooden door was there, set into an arch of entwined roots, separating whatever this place was from the outside. The door shook as something banged on it once again, and a bright golden light shimmered around its edges before vanishing.
A feeling of dread tinged the edges of his calm, and the door thumped again, the golden light flaring once more. When the fourth came, there was a sound like splintering wood, and the light didn’t just fade, but shattered.
The handle turned, and the door opened.
A figure walked through, wrapped in a cloak of black smoke, obscuring any features they might have had. They drifted forward silently, passing Wyn without a care.
Where they went, grass withered, and wood turned to stone.
Wyn tried to move, to reach out and stop it, but he couldn’t raise a finger, couldn’t shout. Instead, he could only watch as the figure descended the path to the floor below, drifted across the water, and touched the tree.
The golden beam dimmed, then shrank, then sputtered out entirely. The light faded, leaving the cavern in darkness as the life within rotted and died, and the world slowly began to collapse in on itself.
Instinctively, he reached for his spirit fire, his aura, anything, but nothing came, and the world fell into nothingness.
He was back in his home in Straetum, though the scene was different. He was no longer a child, and his mother and Elry were no longer there. He was standing, facing his father—or rather, something that looked like his father, but with eyes that glowed gold, a strange twisting pattern held within them.
“You must reach the Sanctum by the summer solstice.” The man spoke. It was not his father’s voice. “They come for the heart. You must find me, Wyn.”
“Is this really a dream?” Wyn asked.
“You must find me, Wyn.”
“Are you Haoma? Are you the great spirit of the tree?”
“Find me, Wyn.”
“I’m trying! Tell me where you are and I will!”
“Wyn!”
“I get it!” Wyn shouted back. “What are you?”
“Wyn. Wyn! Wyn!”
“Stop shouting my—”
“Wyn! You have to wake up!”
Wyn’s eyes shot open and he sat up, suddenly wide awake, already burning spirit fire as Eia pleaded with him.
“What is it, Eia?” he asked sharply. Then he realized she wasn’t with him.
Eia, what’s wrong?
Wyn, there’s someone outside. They’re watching you.
Wyn’s head snapped towards the window of their room. They were on the second floor, looking out across the lower city of Liresil. It was dark and rainy outside, the soft pitter-patter of raindrops falling against the roof. His eyes scanned the nearby rooftops, but the rain made it almost impossible to see. Could somebody really make him out in these conditions?
I think they saw you! They’re running away!
Shit! Wyn threw himself out of the bed, stumbling onto the floor and pulling on a cloak. Follow them!
I’m trying… They’re so fast!
Wyn could feel their bond stretching as she got further away at a rapid pace.
As he threw open the window, Corrin stirred in his own bed. “Wyn?”
“Somebody’s watching us!” he shouted back, then dove out onto the street and leapt up onto the adjacent rooftop. He could tell the direction Eia was in, and took off towards her, channeling aura into his legs. Sprinting across the rain-slick rooftops, the city blurred past him like shadows in the night.
Eia, where are they now?
I don’t know the city any better than you! Just get to me! Her voice echoed with urgency, but also frustration.
He swore under his breath. It was a terrible city to move around in. Liresil’s tangled alleys and walkways would do them no favors here, and so many of the roofs were canvas or domed.
He vaulted a narrow rooftop gap, then dropped three stories, aura softening his landing as he rolled into a run, water kicking up onto him as he passed through a puddle. Up ahead, a figure darted across a rooftop, barely visible through the blur of storm and night, just a flash of motion, a long stride, and the sweep of a dark cloak.
There!
He pushed harder, aura burning in his legs as he strained to catch up. They were moving so fast! They had to be a channeler—or maybe a blessing like Phyrus, the bandit from Precipice?
Eia, you have to guide me. I don’t know these streets.
I’m trying, I— Wait! There, take a left through that archway!
Wyn pivoted hard, boots skidding on wet cobblestone as he slipped through the narrow arch and found a twisting staircase that led up towards one of the roots of the spirit tree. He surged upwards, climbing the root up back onto the rooftops.
They’re turning again! Towards that walkway! Eia swooped through the night, her translucent form darting in and out of the rain.
Wyn cursed and leapt from a balcony railing onto a broken parapet, scrambling up the mossy stone of an old stone tower. He slipped once in the rain, then pulled himself over the edge.
From there, a view spread across the whole lower city, a patchwork of mismatched buildings, dotted with towers and elevated walkways. Ahead, an aqueduct ran above the city, high and narrow.
But there was no figure in sight. He spun, heart pounding, eyes scanning the rooftops.
Eia, where are they?
I… I’ve lost them. They went under the walkway, but they never came out the other side. By the time I looked down there, they were gone. Wyn... it's like they knew I was there.
Wyn stood still for a long moment, rain dripping from his hood, the ache of the chase catching up with him as he caught his breath.
Did you see anything? Like what they looked like? he asked finally.
Their face was hidden… and I’ve told you before, you humans all look the same anyways!
Wyn’s fingers curled into a fist, and he slammed it against the stone.
“Damn it!”
***
He returned to the inn, letting a very confused Corrin know what had happened. Though, to be honest Wyn was just as confused in the grand scheme of things.
“And you’re sure they were watching us?” Wyn asked.
“If they weren’t, would they have run?” Eia countered.
Wyn rubbed his face. “Fair enough.”
“The question,” Corrin said, “is why?”
“They were acting weird at the Ecclesterion. Do you think it could be related to that?”
“All we did was ask after the Sepal though. Aren’t they supposed to be public figures?”
They discussed the matter until the sun came up, but made little progress. In the end, all they knew was that they knew nothing.
The whole time though, Wyn couldn’t help but think about his dream. He wanted to dismiss it out of hand, but something told him that would be unwise. It hadn’t felt like a dream at all—it had felt real, and he could still remember it so vividly.
You must reach the Sanctum by the summer solstice.
If it wasn’t a dream, then the Sanctum must be that place then, with the bright golden light. It reminded him in some ways of the spirit glades, both gave him similar feelings. So perhaps it was a vision, rather than a dream.
“You said this… thing that entered the dream had a smoky black cloak?” Corrin asked.
“Yeah, but it could just be a representation of danger,” Wyn suggested. “What could possibly threaten a great spirit?”
Corrin looked over, his eyes dark.
Wyn sucked in a breath. “You don’t think—”
“This figure you saw sounds something similar, yeah.” Corrin nodded. “And if Iillia was worried about him…”
“Shit.”
“We have to tell Eryndor.”
Wyn grimaced. “Can we really trust him with this?”
“Maybe we can leave out the part about Azoth, but the rest? What other option is there?”
Wyn let out a breath, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. Let’s go.”
They arrived at Eryndor’s estate shortly after, Kei in tow, having explained a little to her already.
Unlike the day prior, the gates swung open on their own, and the front courtyard was already lively, with the plucking of an instrument and the singing of a tune.
“Bruno?” Wyn asked as he caught sight of the bard playing a strange instrument by the pond. It was stringed like a lyre, but with a neck longer than Wyn’s arm, and with a strange bulbous attachment hanging from the top.
“Oh hey!” Bruno waved, plucking the strings a bit quieter.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sir Eryndor gave us permission to use his courtyard for practice, and it’s far better than our apartment! My sister tends to sleep in, but she’ll be around later.”
“You know Erydnor?”
Bruno gave him a puzzled look. “Of course we just—oh well I suppose you weren’t actually there.”
“I’ll tell you later,” Corrin promised. “Good to see you Bruno! But we’ll talk later.”
The bard waved again, then went back to playing the strange instrument, with Kei breaking off to sit with him.
As they approached the front door, it opened without them so much as knocking, and a servant gestured them in. Eryndor was sitting at the table eating breakfast, though he looked as though he’d already been training for a time, dressed lightly and with a few beads of sweat on his forehead.
He looked up as they walked in. “Wyn! Corrin! Good to see you again, I can assist with your training again if you’d—”
“That would be appreciated sir,” Corrin gave a tight smile.
“But we need to talk.” Wyn cut straight to the point. “Privately.”
Eryndor’s smile didn’t fade, but something in his posture sharpened. His shoulders straightened, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
“Of course. Out.”
His servants vanished, disappearing into the halls. Wyn wasn’t exactly comfortable without them going into a private room, but Eryndor nodded and gestured for him to go on.
“They won’t listen in, you have my word as the heir to house Kaelburn.”
Wyn took a breath. “Someone was watching from outside our inn last night. They ran when I saw them, and I wasn’t able to catch them.”
Eryndor’s expression grew serious.
“And that’s not all,” Wyn continued. “Last night I… I had a dream. Or, a vision. I don’t know if it means anything, but I have reason to think something might be wrong with Haoma.”
That got the spirit knight’s full attention. He abruptly stood, hands pressed on the table, all trace of mirth gone.
“Tell me everything,” he said firmly. “Leave nothing out.”
Wyn recounted it all. The childhood memory that wasn’t, the cavern with its shattered tree and golden light, the figure cloaked in smoke, and the words too.
“You must reach the Sanctum by the summer solstice.”
When he finished, Eryndor was silent. He’d sat back down, and now leaned on the table, hands clasped in front of him. Then, he took a deep breath, and clapped his hands together, his smile returning.
“I see! In that case, we have little time to act! We shall begin right away! For starters, you’ll move into my estate for the time being. You’ll be much safer here than in a standard inn!”
Eryndor’s confidence astounded him. Wyn had fretted over this all night, completely unsure of what to do, and yet Eryndor had apparently decided on their course of action in only a few minutes. His smile and voice boomed, taking over the room, and blowing the tense atmosphere away. Wyn felt a stir of admiration in his chest. How could he believe in Eryndor so easily? And he wondered if it was possible to become more like that himself.
“Um, yes okay! But then what? Do you know where this… Sanctum is?” Wyn stammered.
“I have no idea!” Eryndor beamed. “But if it is related to Haoma, then the Sepal surely will. They have dodged me long enough!”
The spirit knight stood, striding towards the door. He grabbed his coat, and his cape flared out as he threw it over his shoulders.
“Where are we going?” Corrin asked as they scrambled to follow.
“Genevisc! Fall in! We have a mission to attend to!” Eryndor shouted, not bothering to wait for his apprentice. He turned his head as he threw open the front door. “We’re going to give one of my friends a visit. And if he doesn’t answer the door, then we’re going to break it down!"
Comments
Zachary Simmons
Glad to heard you enjoyed that haha. Eryndor is a real one fr. Love to see the analysis here. I'm hoping as the lore and world get more revealed going forward you guys will have more stuff like this to chew on. There's a lot going on with different groups and people, but this is the first time I think we're getting a real taste of that. As for how it will pan out... we'll have to wait and see!
Zachary Simmons
Glad you enjoyed! It *was* a bit shorter than I would've liked, but I think it's a bit of both haha. Originally the transitions between this chapter and the others before were different, but some things got shuffled around so it might be a bit more abrupt than I'd intended.
LOLZMAN
Finally, someone in a fictional setting takes the forewarning with the respect it is due. I have to say I hate the cliché of the seniors not listening to the younger MC's warnings before it's too late. So its feels me with no end of happeness to see our man Ery sit down listen and believe them. Granted, I believe it's likely that 1. Ery was already suspicious of what was happening and 2. that he is likely part of the "good guys" Faction that would oppose the evildoers we have seen so far. It would make sense that the great sprites would get help from good-natured poeple to act on their behalf, as they seem to be relatively confined to their areas. An example would be, of course, the stillblade, who is clearly a part of this faction. Really, everything we hear about Ery makes him seem like the sprite knight the boys should have as a mentor. Plus, it would seem like a good fit for the good guys faction.
im Panda
Honestly the beginning threw me for a moment. I was expecting to leave off from the little (maybe) date, the tense dream and unfruitful chase was good and Mr FLAME OF YOUTH is very dependable. The chapter felt short but I'm not sure if thats because I blazed through it or it was actually short I can't tell. Either way the chapter was good so I don't really mind
