The Central Weave
Ardyn and Atina moved toward the edge of the depression. The magic here was becoming oppressive, the air thick with power. Ardyn released her Soul Song, opening her perception to the Weave.
'This magic has an odd intent,' Ardyn noted. 'It feels like your shadow magic. Can I use that here?'
'I cannot feel magic as you do, Mistress,' Atina replied. 'I do not sense any shadow within this land, but if you do, then you can use it.'
Ardyn frowned as they reached the edge. She tentatively sent a thread of magic into the depression.
A violent force surged back.
Atina slammed her shadow shield into place, but the torrent ripped through it instantly. Both women were thrown back several feet. Ardyn's Song of Protection wrapped around them like threads of silky steel, barely absorbing the impact.
They gasped for air, beads of sweat popping up on their foreheads. Ardyn pursed her lips and tried again. She invoked the Song of Calm, then the Song of Protection. Each time, the Weave rejected her.
It was like the Central Weave did not want any contact, it was refusing all with violent rejection. Ardyn refused to give up and each try was more powerful than the last.
But by the third attempt, her body spasmed from the exhaustion of protecting herself and Atina. The magic of the Central Weave was insidious in its rejections.
Atina stood over her, bracing her with shadow magic. Ardyn forced herself to still. She regulated her breathing, and focused her thoughts.
The Central Weave wasn't just a magical construct, it was sentient. With its sentience there was great resistance. She frowned, why was it resistant, and why was it so chaotic and aggressive with its resistance?
She looked toward the twin redwoods spiraling into the pale sky. She could hear it now—an edge of annoyance in the magic, punctuated by sparks of something unrecognizable.
Was the Central Weave annoyed with the twin redwoods?
She stood up and walked forward again. This time, her Song of Calm didn't command; it suggested. It moved like a whisper into the depression, seeking knowledge without drawing attention.
The depression reacted. Its chaotic energy began to probe Ardyn's magic, curious. Then, it began to pull. Ardyn felt the tug in the depths of her being—as if the Weave sought to know her soul sea, or perhaps consume it.
In the distance, the trees stirred her Song of Tree, but the sound was faint, like thunder echoing from a distant mountain range.
Then, she felt it.
A slip of a call. Faint, tranquil, and incredibly fragile.
It was like a breath that slowly leaked free after being held for far too long.
It whispered into the weave within the depression and it was not rejected.
It was so tenuous she held her breath, fearing she might disrupt its flow. It slipped in and out of the Weave, changing the energy in the most minute ways. It was bringing the Central Weave toward a state of calm so slowly it was almost imperceptible.
"Wait here, Atina. I will enter alone."
"Mistress." Atina paused, her loyalty warring with the command. "I am tasked with your protection. I will ensure you are safe."
She bowed but did not move. Ardyn nodded in respect.
Ardyn stepped into the depression. The aggressive magic lapped at her, but she didn't fight it. Her songs hummed around her body like a secret language.
Suddenly, the Life Call Talisman at her neck flared. The red lines of the rune glowed, pulsing with energy. The talisman grew until it was larger than her hand, vibrating with an intense magic that seemed to only be restrained by the delicate chain it hung from.
The Central Weave trembled – in begrudging respect, and maybe loyalty.
The fragile slip of magic didn't change its intensity, but it resonated with the talisman—an invitation.
Ardyn entered the center of the depression without resistance. She sat, instantly falling into a deep meditation. She watched the slip of magic work, following its intent as it guided the chaotic ribbons of power.
Suddenly, a spark struck her soul. She understood.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed her magic out. Instead of commanding the Weave, she inquired. Her threaded inner song glided alongside that tiny slip of magic.
They glided in and out of the chaos of the Central Weave and guided the magic closer and closer to calm.
Slowly her inner song harmonized with the fine slip of magic. The harmony changed both and they began to resonate with each other.
As they did, the slip of magic quietly moved into her inner song.
There was a soft inner click as it wove itself into the weave of her inner song. The small thread of sound and magic became an integral park of her inner song and sound, light, and magic filled her body.
The Life Slip was finally hers.