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[h3]Six Months Ago[/h3]
[sub]A Small Thanks to [@Tuujaimaa] for a Minor Collaboration.[/sub][/center][hr]
With effortless movement, a figure limned with writhing prismatic light walked across the ocean vast. It had been weeks since last he’d seen Khesyr, his birthplace, and years since he’d known his home. It merely tickled at the nostalgia in his reforged mind, bringing him little in the way of thoughts of comfort or belonging. That was not his place now. No, he was more than a small town hunter now, he was above petty gossip and mundane things--though they were not beyond him and each, indeed, held their own innate value.

Wondering at where precisely he might be upon the vast oceans of Galbar, Fein let his breathing shift, allowing him to fall into a light meditative trance. The shifting light around him expanded rapidly, encompassing several dozen feet in an orb of writhing essence. With each weaving dance the wind picked up, and as if blown through trees or reeds, they took on a subtle tune. A gentle windblown melody picked up, and he accompanied it with his own voice and intent.

Far beneath him, ocean creatures danced within the waves and currents of the sea, but none strayed too close to the figure who tread upon the water’s surface. Then, his meditation entered, his mind expanded and so opened before him were the boundless reaches of the Endless Dream.

Threads of chaos and pain remained throughout the Subtle Weave, likely caused by the resurgence of a vast mind.

[i]’Aicheil. The Dreaming God,’[/i] trailed off the thought before he turned his attention elsewhere. He focused on the many minds beneath and far afield of his location. With their dreams and memories, he crafted a map within his mind, weaving it into existence with illusions and dreaming song. This image he crystallized within the sixfold gaze of his mind before opening his eyes and letting the swaying dance of his Will abate. All that remained was the gentle hum of his intent that cast his Will upon the surface of the sea.

[center][h3]Eight Years Ago[/h3][/center][hr]
He emerged from a deep slumber, his mind a haze of confusion and a fading sense of skull shattering pain. For a time he could not even remember his name, let alone understand where he was or recognize the many faces around him. “Agh,” he exclaimed with a pained groan as he opened his eyes and moved his head. There was blackness around him, broken only by the faint light of a nearby candle on what could only be described as a shrine. Frowning, the raven-haired man slowly turned his head but found he could not find any more meaning in his surroundings--dark as they were.

Head pounding--though the pain was fading swiftly--he pushed himself up on his elbows and sat up. “Hello?” There was no response, but his voice echoed through the space, revealing its size. Was it a barn, perhaps? How had he come to such a place…?

He could not have walked, not after...the thought trailed off, for he realized he could not quite remember what exactly had occurred. Had he not been upon the Great Glacier, beneath its sheets of ice? Fein screwed up his brow and rubbed his temples, trying to clear his mind and perhaps make some sense of what had happened. There might be answers there. Thinking back, he recalled a vast hall of unmelting ice, illuminated by many scattered shafts of light, diffusing through the space. It was a vivid recollection, but something about it was wrong as if some aspect of the place hid from his awareness. Frustrated, he [i]pushed[/i] for the memory only for a flash of black-clawed agony to tear at his mind.

He called out in an aborted scream as his jaw tensed and he convulsed, curling in on himself. He felt sensations upon his flesh and a writhing burning essence in his mind, but the latter faded and the former resolved into the feeling of warm hands. Someone’s voice spoke to him, [i]“Fein?”[/i]

He blinked clear his vision as he opened his eyes, the haze of crimson fading swiftly once more. A familiar face greeted him, a welcome one, his grandfather’s. Wincing, Fein turned away, but it was not the brighter light of the open barn door beyond his grandfather’s form that had caused it. Instead, it was the look on the man’s face. Worry, pity, and a brief flash of fear. Swallowing hard he gently pushed the hand away before forcing himself to speak, though his throat was dry and his voice hoarse.

[color=#7bc6bf][b]“I’m alright, gramps. Could use some water.”[/b][/color]

The man nodded and turned away, [i]“A’right, Fein,”[/i] he said, exiting the barn. There was a barely veiled franticness about the man’s movements, as if he couldn’t quite wait to get out of his presence. Then again, maybe the man was just relieved to see him? It had been...months? Years? He couldn’t say for sure. It stood to reason that his grandfather would have worried after him, especially considering his destination.

Few made it back off the ice of the Great Glacier.

Rubbing his temples once more, his fingers digging roughly into the soft patches of skin, Fein wondered about the state of things. If even gramps was like this, how would the other villagers react? How had he even gotten here..? He’d have to ask, it was unlikely to be a pleasant conversation.

[center][h3]Three Years Ago[/h3][/center][hr]
He’d come a long way to find the small abandoned temple. It was not a place the gods had blessed, he could tell--it didn’t feel the same as that far off Heart of Ice. Finding the temple had been difficult, even with his connection to the Two-as-One. Both seemed far off and beyond any proper communication or simple prayer. He wondered why, but he did not lose faith.

Kneeling now before a pristine mirror composed of silver crystal, Fein bent his head and took in several long deep breaths. Gently his mind sank into a stupor, then opened in three directions, forming an expanding refraction of the Endless Dream. A smile touched his lips, he spoke.

[color=#7bc6bf][b]“God of Truths, I beseech thee,”[/b][/color] he began, his tone even and calm. [color=#7bc6bf][b]“May your chosen form upon this earth anoint my mortal mind so that I might seek this world’s Truth as you do.”[/b][/color]

Then he raised his head, opened his eyes, and stared deep into the crystal mirror.

Within its reflection manifested the silhouette of a clawed, mirror-bright being whose silver seemed to have tarnished as if the passing of years had suddenly caught up with it all at once. As its clawed fingers gripped the very edges of Fein’s perception and it sidled into view, a feeling of exigent relief washed over him.

“The World’s Memory has withdrawn, [i]Scáilgasúr[/i]. Its ministrations upon the Subtle Weave are required to keep the balance--and it cannot turn away. Only I am able to hear your prayers.”

The words flowed from the glass like ribbons of shredded crystal, softly humming at first and then shrieking within his skull, their sounds unfit for the uninitiated.

“But you came here to seek Truth, and seek it you shall. I may draw from the World’s Memory to anoint you with the grace of the Two-as-One. Rise, Naomh Dealrach.”

As Faileasiar spoke, the crystal-threads of its essence began to seep forth from the mirror like liquid crystal, creeping along the floor and into every pore of Fein’s skin. The resonance of the words within his thoughts began to swell, his skull began to vibrate, and very soon all perception of the world left him as he entered the manifold realities of the Dream.

Therein he would see a great triquetra, cleaving falsehood from its surroundings, and in the centre an eye--an eye that locked onto his own, and the knowledge of a hundred epochs trickled up his skin and into his ears and directly into his mind. In another instant he was in the temple again, but the blessing of the God of Truth had once again found its way into the hallowed place and a gentle sheen seemed to permeate the air. As he turned back to the mirror he found a silver triquetra upon his forehead, gently thrumming to the beat of his heart, and a mirror seemed to have laced itself beneath his sclera.

So inducted by the hand of Firinn’s own avatar, Fein felt his mind expand with the knowledge he had been given. It was overwhelming, and yet...he was not consumed by it. Immersed in that radiant moment, the World’s Memory stretching his mind far beyond what he’d once thought its limits

Then he felt it, a growing swell of endless emotion held barely at bay. Physically it was but a breath of mist and warmth upon his face, but as he opened his eyes he found before him quite a sight. Refracting light between numerous beads of prismatic moisture, a figure stood before him, its form composed entirely of luminescent droplets of unknown nature.

He knew this figure, unlike that of Faileasiar, who he’d only heard of through myths and tales. This one he had felt before--and in many visions seen.

Faireachan A-staigh. The Watcher Within. First Avatar of the Dreaming God.

It spoke into his mind and its words [i]dripped[/i] with boundless meaning.

[color=#234C5F]“Through the Mindshadow will you walk. Bound by the firmament of endless aspect you will be.”[/color]

A shock pressed itself through him and it was like taking a breath for the first time, like feeling true joy and rapture all at once. His mind unfiltered, his emotions raw, Fein felt tears track down his cheeks. Voice shaking, he replied as a mortal must.

[color=#7bc6bf][b]“You honor me. Thank you.”[/b][/color] He almost choked on the words as sobs leapt through his chest, the emotions too potent to hold. They writhed through his body, changing his very essence, touching his soul--elevating it. He felt his skin shift, its hue almost golden in its hue and his eyes followed suit until not just his sclera were touched by the influence of the Two-as-One, but the irises and pupils too. What were once merely black dots grew in depth, becoming pits of endless pitch, deeper than any Galbarian abyss. The colors of his irises, once a gentle brown, shifted then as well, growing flecks of silver, theur hue ever-changing from tint-to-tint.

Knowing that its work was done, the Watcher faded and with drew, its presence dwindling to naught but mist.

Fein was left with his feelings and his thoughts and he embraced them for a time. He remained, kneeling, head bowed as he wept into the ruined floor of that long forgotten temple. It took many minutes before his mind had adjusted to its altered state, but when it did he rose clear eyed and departed that solemn altar from which he’d been reborn.

It was then that he knew the world must change, though he could not yet know how.

[center][h3]Four Months Ago[/h3][/center][hr]
A swell of oceanic power. An emanating song. Its cadence was slow, more a constant undulating rumble than a proper melody. The waters twisted and churned beneath him, as if a deific force pulled them ever deeper into the depths of that unknown blackness far below. Yet, there was not the faintest trace of darkness in that place--even in the night--for within the waves and currents there was a smattering of color. Like a painter’s palette writ-large and dumped into the waves the colors swirled and intertwined. As the currents wove and spun they created a vast and swaying tapestry of chaos and beauty both. Twas that whirling dervish of waves which held his six-fold gaze.

Yet the world would not stop for him, for far beneath him, he felt the presence of many mammoth entities, their minds manifold and vast. He watched them for a time before his attention earned him the dire curiosity of a certain Vroolish mortal. Up from the depths a ten-ton tendril reached, slapping at his form, but before it struck him he let out a single piercing tone. 

It was a one-note song, wrought with a voice transcendent. It spoke unto the world and said [i]‘Protect me from any violence, rebuff and rebound.’[/i] So the world did heed the call, heaving currents to-and-fro, making air writhe in deadly shearing blasts that swept away that unknown vrool’s once mighty limb. The winds calmed about him, returning to their ocean dance. Fein stood atop those rainbow swells and cast his gaze on the far-off form of the vrool who desired him as prey.

He smiled and into the depths did drop. So submerged, Fein’s eyes shut, suffocation held at bay by a gentle humming song of many twisting tunes. It spiralled out and touched the bell of the dazed and frustrated being, whose waters Fein was thought to have invaded.

[color=#7bc6bf][b]“Tis not my place to invade these waters, oh conqueror of the deeps,”[/b][/color] he sang into the waves, his mouth taking not a drop of water. The waves danced upon his words, holding him mere feet from the ocean’s surface, pressing him forth and closer still to the vroolish aggressor.

The leviathan curled in upon itself, coiling perhaps to strike, but Fein only smiled and slipped slightly to one side. Though little had seemed to change, the vrool missed his would-be lethal lunge. Twisting violently, the duodecapod struck out into the empty sea, whirling his many limbs intent, perhaps, to wound Fein mortally. To no avail he found, for where his limbs had struck there was nothing, no human to constrict or strike or pound. Instead, Fein had slipped between the strikes of that twelve-limbed cephalopodal foe, and had chosen above the surface to go.

There was no purpose in fighting here, he found, for any victory would only waste good minds. With that in mind, Fein crested past the waves and to his destination turned. For though he could thrive upon the abounding bounty of Galbar’s seas, his feet missed solid earth and the many voices of mortals simple and profound.

Soon there would be little need to yearn for such things, he knew. For the Subtle Weave, the Endless Dream, it had granted him this boon of knowledge. Like a far-off artifact which had began his journey, this wisdom from beyond pulled him ever forward. He wondered what precisely he would find at the end of this journey.

For it seemed that the Dream--though endlessly vast and filled beyond brimming with experience--could not inform him of such a thing.

So it was that he traveled, excited to discover that which the Dream could not on its own teach him.

In his way, he sought out Truth. For what else held value in the world?

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[h3]The Present[/h3][/center][hr]
Though displeased with the results of his stay in the realm of night, the Presence found itself amused at the proceedings with the God of Tragedy. A fortunate thing, if only for the others. Fog twisting about its blackened form, the Dreaming God entered its endless realm and pressed its mind down into Galbar.
[hr]A brief flash of oceanic thoughts and swirling currents of emotion swept passed the Dreamer’s dark attention as he sifted through the weave. Finding what he sought, he plucked upon the cords of the world’s mind and emerged as an unbound mist.

Faireachan, his avatar, had responded to the call.

So it was that, with the tessellated power of his mind, the Dreaming God wove a subtle blessing into the world.

A shrine off a well-traveled path where many feet had touched--and would surely touch again--did form. It was like a gateway, but writ large and hidden by the mire of a light-refracting fog. It was formed from ideas of formlessness and mystery, illusion and solidity. Though it was real, it could not be touched, though it surely left its mark upon the world.

Satisfied...for now, the Dreamer then cast away and left behind lonely edifice, sure that it would serve its purpose. At least, in due time….

[hider=Summary]In which we glimpse both the present and past of Aicheil’s chosen mortal, Fein. In the present, he travels across the ocean’s surface on foot, heading for lands yet unknown to two of his sixfold eyes. We see him inducted into the Seekers of Truth and the Sleepless--becoming perhaps the only true Adherent to the Two-as-One. He is rewarded for his devotion to their cause, and so elevated further from the common man.

In the present, the Presence crafts a Sacred Edifice which to his plans will serve some unknown purpose.[/hider]
[hider=Might Summary][hider=Aicheil][u]Start:[/u] 5MP, 1DP.

-4MP -- Increase Title Weight by 4 (Fein) / Willcaster VI.
-0MP (Discounted by Abstraction) -- Minor change to landscape (Toraan--Various) / Gather “Ingredients” for a Consecration.
-1DP (Enhanced by Abstraction) -- Consecrate/Create a Holy Site (The Gate of Dìol) / Diffusion I | Sacred Earth II
-1MP (Enhanced by Tessellation) -- Bestow a Title (The Gate of Dìol) / Integration I.

[indent][i]The Gate of Dìol: Composed entirely of unearthly immaterial substances, this holy place of power is impossible to detect with the mundane senses and is, in fact, only apparent to those who can either dreamwalk, or visualize mana. The latter however, will only reveal a faint shimmer in the air in the shape of a large gate, whereas the former will show the true majesty of the great archway. It is unknown what purpose this edifice is meant to serve, but surely it is a good one, for it does naught but imbue energy into the soil of Toraan.

[indent][u]Diffusion I[/u] -- Uses the power of Abstraction to briefly interrupt the barriers that hold mana in the bodies of living things that pass through the unseen Gate of Dìol, releasing it into the air without bringing harm to those affected. Only a small amount of mana is lost.

[u]Integration I[/u] -- Takes ambient mana not bound strongly by an existing Mana Stream or Mortal Will and integrates it into the surroundings of the Gate and the Gate itself. It does this through the power of Tessellation, creating something new from two things once thought separate.

[u]Sacred Earth II[/u] -- Takes integrated mana and uses a small portion of it to feed a continuous process. This blessing slowly dissolves the boundaries that hold the Gate of Dìol in such a small space. As a result, over time, more ground is affected by the unseen Gate and its many future blessings.[/indent][/i][/indent]

[u]End:[/u] 0MP, 0DP.[/hider]
[hider=Prestige]The Sleepless: 2.
The Seekers of Truth: 2.
Fein: 2.[/hider][/hider]