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The Prophet Forgotten by His People [Chain/Alma Torran]

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Zuzu Mansur

Zuzu Mansur
A-Tier
A-Tier

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ZUZU MANSUR

The Moon took watch over the sleeping lands below, her sibling stars blinking slowly as she glanced over the earth. She saw her brother’s favourite withdrawn from the outside world, her head filled with voices, but one more would become clear to her soon. An unnatural wind swept across the carriage wherein sat Zubaidah, her hair swept wildly with its cold flurry. She could hear some faint voice - a cry, perhaps, or a laugh - with each sweep of this chill wind. Then a shout. A shout, sounding like static on a radio. It pierced Zubaidah's eardrums, leaving them ringing with unintelligible words. Whilst her ears recovered, she began to hear something in the back of her mind. No, someone, talking to her, whose voice matched the words which slowly revealed itself upon the pages of her book.

It took far too long for someone to open this book! I have been slumbering in these pages for ages!’

The words slowed to a cursive halt, as if someone writing them down upon the page was stopping for a quick think. Indeed, the voice in her head suddenly halted alongside them, before beginning once more.

Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Natan - you might remember me as Furcas’ teacher? Hmm, that does not give enough informa-

‘I’m not exactly concerned with who you are, dear, but rather what you are. Are you some kind of magical construct?’

You are dismissing my appearance as simple trickery or illusions?

‘Pardon my bluntness, dear, but I only see words on a page and hear a voice in my ears. You could easily be some illusion or, perhaps - you might even say - trickery.’

An interesting take. However, I would wager nobody else dismisses magic in such an off-handed manner. You see, magic is not like some stage-act, where the stage is filled with props and actors. Instead, it would be better to compare magic with the natural sciences. If the magoi is your raw material, then magic is the refined product.

‘Hmm, would the spell be the chemical formula then?’

Ah, yes, but the spell has two functions. First, there is the descriptive function or, if you would prefer, the chemical formula. Second, there is the mechanical function which performs the action described - and this would be the chemical formula.

‘Oh, how interesting. Just like that story of the enchanted horse! What seemed the height of fantasy has been grounded with such realism. Heh, had I only known that before, magic would not have been so intimidating…’

I have never heard someone grasp magic so easily without experiencing it first. Well, I dare not include the genius Jehoahaz, but he was a special case.

‘Do you mean the sons of Jehoahaz?’

Ah, no, you would know the Jehoahaz boy by the name Solomon.

‘You knew the Solomon?’

Yes, I did. Indeed, he was a pupil of mine.

‘You were a teacher?’

Teaching would be too generous a term… Indoctrinating would be more accurate, sadly.

‘That clarifies nothing, dear.’

No, I suppose it does not. Perhaps, then, it is time for you to read a new tale. This is my tale, and Solomon’s. Nay, the tale of Alma Torran itself!
mag/mag | word/508 | stam/stam


Tales of Torran:


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