…magic, similarly to any living, breathing being, evolves and adapts itself, bending through the whims of those who practice it throughout the ages. To compare its handling now, as wielded by Selejia’s Four Powers, with the known and recorded mastery wielded by the powers of yore, is to observe two different things altogether. Like gazing into a kaleidoscope, two eyes do not see the same pattern, for each hand bends and refracts the light into something new, shaping it into what best fits their worldview and purposes. Magic follows the same principles. Each culture has its own rituals and rules as to how it should be used, even though the basic components and the principles are, perhaps, the same, lest we forget that all magic comes from the Everlasting.

Yarin Chronicler’s “Magic of Agnar”, Chapter I

Traveling towards the eastern shores, one may find the coastal region of Wystral, and the city of Gateway, the waypoint to the heart of magical research in Selejia. Magic is part of their life as death is to a member of the Legion of the Fallen’s, and the Conclave of the Spheres is eager to share it with all those with the coin to buy it. Many speak about the cradle of the Conclave, the Quinvalan islands, which stand beyond the coast with towers of opulent architecture, marble-white and adorned by the green-blue patina of copper roofs. Few, however, speak of how the Conclave’s dominion reaches far beyond the secluded islands, subtly influencing the politics and the economy within every major city of Selejia. Land, for them, matters less than the grasp they hold onto people’s lives, and seclusion is merely an equivocal notion. The mages make their presence known very clearly.

The many elves that tread the Conclavian territory, from humble merchants to Nexi sages, are eager to share their ancestral history as founders of the Spheres, and how their vision enlightens the world with a better understanding of magic and its purpose. Their words, of course. Humans would join the Conclave centuries after its founding, guided by their curiosity and ambition. Although at first a minority, they would soon outnumber their elvish peers. The end result is the largest conglomerate of mages and scholars in all of Selejia, and perhaps the whole world.

Inside the massive and heavily protected walls of the city of Talisis, lies the Molech Oracle. Let not the name deviate you from what it is, dear reader: the Oracle isn’t a person, but rather, a gigantic and complex orrery of metal and raw arcane potential. Per Conclavian tradition, the Oracle is older than Osterath itself, having been granted to the people of Quinvala long before the Astarian Paradux laid claim to it. The Oracle foresaw the Fall, rushing its keepers to escape the empire and return it to its ancestral home. This humble writer could not lay eyes on it, as its chambers were heavily guarded. The wardens did not stop me for fear of outsiders damaging or stealing the Everlasting Relic, but rather for my own safety, as my presence could trigger the “Gaze of Molech”. The wardens would not explain to me the meaning of it, but apprentices have got looser tongues, and the place was full of them. Inquiring, they told me the Gaze is a test that every mage must pass to graduate from their arcane training. Those who succeeded left the Oracle as a Mysteriarch. Those who failed never left at all. For the Conclave, despite the cultural significance of the Relic, and the fact that it was granted by the Everlasting, the Oracle is not a deity to be revered, but rather, a tool to be used, a granter of the means through which they will achieve their ends. For them, as it seems, no Relic is sacred, or too dangerous. They will be claimed, and they will be studied to their minute details. What happens to them thereafter, only the Nexi knows.

Whoever has engaged in combat with a Conclavian mage, or better, witnessed one of their demonstrations when traveling through the Wystral, has seen the manifestations of their unique magic. Liastrum, as they call it, flows from the Oracle, bestowing incredible potential to those who know how to reach for it. When wielded in its raw, untamed version, it manifests as a bright blue flame, one that does not burn, but rather, seems to enhance or change the properties of magic around it. With it, spells requiring entire magical circles and multiple personnel to cast can be manifested as quickly as to save a life in combat. To better contain and access it when needed, Liastrum is usually kept stored within portable devices carried by the mages, usually in the form of spheres. For each sphere, there’s a gauntlet that allows its manipulation and a pattern that keeps the Liastrum locked in. Each mage creates its own pattern, in such a manner that no other may meddle with their apparatus.

While the Order sees magic as a taming of chaos, the Conclave sees it as the clay through which the ancient, powerful magics of the Agnar before the Fall can be given form once again. By studying Relics, the scholars see blueprints to spells long-forgotten, waiting to be put into use. Although some may argue that it isn’t original, none can deny their power and versatility. For example, by studying the many Towers of Transposition erected all over Selejia, the Conclave was able to replicate their effect; although to a lesser, and way more costly, extent. I was, thankfully, able to witness such a spell being cast at a local event, following the annual celebration dedicated to Ethelizar, the elven keeper who devised the plan to flee ancient Ostearth and save the Oracle from the Fall. On this day mages demonstrate the many wonders of their arcane might, in hopes of amusing potential patrons or impressing the Nexi of the Spheres. Apprentices manifested projectiles of sheer destruction, disappeared in thin air, or flew through the crowd. But when one of them went too far and tried to create a duplicate of themselves, an explosion of blue flames soon cascaded into chaos on the stage. Before I could make sense of the damage, wizards clad in armor inscribed with intricately designed runes arrived out of nowhere, guiding the spectators out of the exhibition grounds while neutralizing the flames, using the same Liastrum that caused the chaos in the first place. To my knowledge, they are, perhaps, agents of one of the Spheres.

To create their own spells is the dream to which every mage aspires, but to do so, the path is long, costly, and pretty bureaucratic. Most fresh-faced apprentices must, to be taken under the wing of one of the Spheres, either excel in potential or directly pay their masters, where they will, for years, study the nuances of Liastrum and its effects. Only after becoming masters of the basics of every field, are apprentices allowed to go further into magical specialization. The structure of power, still, doesn’t end at the masters, for they strive always to become more.

Talking about Spheres, given the nature of Liastrum, it is easy to understand how the modern societal structure of the Conclave came to be. Liastrum is a complicated, and highly volatile, magical material. For a single mind, to delve too deeply into its multiple possibilities might bring unforeseen consequences. Separating the areas of magical analysis, and allocating them to certain groups of mages, allows for more well-trained and precise developments in the fields of magic. Well, in theory, that was its purpose, but it is undeniable how the Spheres have strayed far from each other as time went by, resulting in individualistic and politically predatorial behavior within each group. Still, progress is tangible, even though control over a spell is monopolized by the Sphere that created it. Instead of being freely available to the Conclave in its entirety, new and life-saving magics are hidden away, or sold in a lesser form and at a hefty price.

Curiosity, still, took hold of me. Following the disastrous demonstration, I decided to inquire further into the destructive and volatile potential of Liastrum. At first, I began with passerby mages, to no avail. Even loose-tongued apprentices and humble merchants would not talk, or claim they didn’t know what I was referring to. Their faces, too, soon turned to shunning and veiled anger. Fearing I might have touched subjects best left unquestioned, I’ve decided not to over-welcome my stay, as the Conclave and its mages have been most receptive hosts. They also politely asked me to leave. This humble writer hopes to have shed some light into the mysterious culture of the Conclave for you, dear reader. For now, I’ll be traveling south, into the cold and distant lands of Belyos. Better pack my winter clothes, I’m told the region is cold as death!

Yarin Chronicler