To practice The Arts, you must first learn the language of the Titan you wish to channel. Every Titan speaks their own tongue: Kein is the language of action, of blood and death. Sunvaar is much the same, the hunt, the hunger, blood and night.
Mindol is the Titan most sought by those who seek control, because they are the Titan of Mind. Logic, clear and cold. Formulae and numbers, the framework of the world refined.
Humans, those who rose as the Titans fell, are much the same. You can say the same words to many people, and none will understand it the same way. This is the trick with words: what you say doesn’t matter. It is how you say it. Speak, and if you are correct in your assessment, they will understand.
Strike the Horizon.
Exaltation 6:2.
ZELITH
“Well, I have to say…there is definite room for improvement.”
Zelith could feel the knot in her stomach already starting to form. She forced a smile to her face as she looked up to Professor Verin.
The faintly glowing professor stood at his desk, several of Zelith’s research papers floating in the air as he moved his hand, blue stars permanently flaring around the papers. The chamber that was Verin’s office was large, almost cavernous. The raised desk sat near windows that looked down the rest of Lahrii, murals depicting maps of stars covering the ceiling, nearly every wall a book. A mirror-like bowl sat in the desk itself, reflecting a distorted image of the pair of them.
“But. Promise,” Verin said, the elaboration doing nothing to sooth her nerves. “I called you in for this assessment partially because of that, Vachon.”
“Zelith,” Lily corrected. “I don’t…I’m not using the family name right now.”
Verin nodded, sitting down at his desk and steepling his fingers.
“Zelith, of course,” he said, a bit solemnly. “Some of the other students have mentioned a particularly keen interest in this…rift you referenced in your notes. The source of this supposed time loop you experienced fighting that demon.”
“Supposed?” Zelith asked, raising an eyebrow. The tension wasn’t getting worse, but at least the topic had shifted from her apparently lackluster performance and to her research.
“Time manipulation is…well, unheard of,” Verin said, chuckling. “The closest we’ve come is the White Art, my specialty. And, Zelith, that is what I wanted to speak to you about. I believe this loop you experienced was, to put it directly, a manifestation of the White Art. Instinctive, perhaps.”
He gestured to the books around him.
“The White Art does not give us perfect ability to predict the future. It is like…a play, in your mind. Whatever information you have provided to the script, when you cast, will be incorporated into the projection. Anything you fail to notice will not. The loop you describe, although unorthodox and strong, appears to be a kind of rapid-fire use of the White Art as you gathered more information, allowing the movements and actions that secured victory.”
Zelith shifted in her seat, looking at the papers he had laid down on the table.
“…You’re sure?” she asked, hating how unsure she sounded.
“Positive,” Verin said, giving a warm smile. “It’s an unorthodox usage, one I would like to see more of. I would encourage you to study it further. Dig in, develop it, and inform me of what you discover.”
For a moment, there was only the lapping of distant waves through the open window, as Verin continued to smile at Zelith, his expression not changing.
“How about this. Focus on this feeling, grasp it. I’ll observe. There are spells to assist in gathering this information. I’ll tell you what I find out. Can you do that?”
Zelith nodded, grimacing as she sat up more straight. Blue stars flared around the professor as the man kept his eyes on her.
“These will help. Just focus on what you experienced. If you mess up, I have time.”
Bristling at the mention of failure, Zelith raised her hands, squinting her eyes as her brow furrowed, a strand of her white hair falling in front of her eye as she slowly closed her eyes, focusing as hard as she could.
For a long moment, nothing happened. It was even as her eyes were closed, Zelith began to see light, like a spotlight growing behind her eyes. There was a tension rising again, a familiar sensation dancing in her mind. The possibility that hung thick in the air whenever the loop had restarted.
Outside of Zelith’s closed eyes, there was a clicking sound, Verin turning his eyes to glance at the mechanical device that sat on his desk, a very rudimentary timepiece. As it clicked, he watched as the seconds hand moved forward ten seconds, then shot back. He could feel a rush, like the world was moving around him, kept in place by his own observational spell. In the distance, the waves stuttered, repeating again and again.
As the clock began to move forward normally again, Verin’s smile widened, the professor tapping Zelith’s shoulder.
“There you go. Excellent work,” he said calmly. As Zelith’s blue eyes drifted open, she could feel a faint drowsiness creeping over her.
“It…was the White Art, then?” Zelith asked. The professor nodded, clasping his hands together.
“Absolutely. Nothing to speak of out here,’ he said. “Interesting results. I’ll need some time to dig into them, but. You did good, with this. I expect you to study more.”
Zelith nodded, carefully standing up.
“…I won’t disappoint, professor,” she said, frowning. Something seemed very, very off, but she couldn’t place her finger on what. The professor just kept smiling, giving a nod.
“Well, get back to your dorms. I will speak with you later,” he said curtly. Zelith couldn’t help but feel a bit stung at the tone, but turned on her heels and headed towards the doors after grabbing her papers.
As the door clicked shut, Verin let out a sigh, reaching into a box on his desk. As blue stars flared, pristine copies of Zelith’s notes appeared inside, the professor of the White Art picking them up and narrowing his eyes.
“… Now, what have you stumbled on, Ms. Vachon?”
<- UNWOUND INTERLUDE 2: Frozen River
Strike The Horizon 