The invocation flushed pink, blossoming in tendrils from Arboriasus the Verdamancer’s dark hand. Enigma watched in brooding silence, their nose wrinkling instinctively from the scent of flowers swirling in the forest clearing. Arboriasus flexed her fingers, winding together the strings of green, rose, and midnight to form a wreath of petals, and exhaled slowly.
“You really don't have to be that theatrical.” A smirk played at the corner of Enigma’s thin mouth.
“And you don’t have to say that every time I take a breath,” Arboriasus said icily. Dusting off her hands, she picked up a small bundle of silk, tied with twine. “I packed some flora for you. You’ll probably throw it away as soon as you leave, so I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
Enigma folded their arms and sniffed. “I don’t want to go.”
“But alas, that is the reality we live in,” said a voice to their left.
The shrubs withered away on one side of the clearing to reveal a tall man striding toward them, clad in deep shades of purple.
Enigma slouched on the log. “What is it with you people and timing? Why does everything have to be such a production!”
Arboriasus sucked in a sharp breath. “Child, you will not speak to Perciphinctes the Necromancer with that —”
“It’s all right, Arbi.” Perciphinctes smiled warmly. “They’re just a little nervous.”
“I most certainly am not!” Enigma said indignantly. “I just don’t think this is the right thing to do.”
“I know.” Perciphinctes’s smile faded. He offered Enigma a hand, which they did not take, but instead stood and stalked out of the clearing, gritting their teeth at the dramatic conversation this would inevitably bring about.
Enigma began to run, clutching the bundle, vines lashing out at their bare arms. They stopped only once to open the silk, remove the flora, and tear it to pieces. The night was warm and their hair was flattened with sweat, but they sprinted until they emerged from the trees into an open field. A vast expanse of grass stretched to a distant range of smoky mountains, silhouettes visible in the starlight.
It was only when Enigma stopped at the edge of the woods, breathing heavily, that they noticed Perciphinctes standing beside them, as irritatingly unperturbed as always.
Enigma cursed under their breath. “I won’t go, Perci. Outer Dusk is my home.”
“Look at your home.” Perciphinctes gazed back at the lanterns of Outer Dusk hanging in the trees. “This place has nothing for you: a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, whose only magical resource is floramancy.”
“But I can’t even do that!” Enigma sat down in the grass. “Everyone here can do invocations or your fancy death flower stuff!”
“Everyone can do magic. You simply haven’t discovered yours yet. I trust you will find your way as you go,” Perciphinctes said gravely. “And go you must. Ashilk must fall.”
“But not me!” A tear threatened to roll down Enigma’s cheek, and they blinked angrily. “Why would you think I’m capable of this?”
“Because Ashilk doesn’t know you exist. Believe me, if I thought there was anyone else out there whose aura it hadn’t touched, you would not need to leave.”
“Perci, I’m too weak and stupid! I’ll die out there!”
Enigma grabbed Perciphinctes’s flowery sleeve. They were crying now, and they hated themselves for it. “I’m scared. You were right. Just don’t make me go.”
A drop of water fell onto Perciphinctes’s sleeve, and Enigma realized he was crying, too.
Perciphinctes whispered softly, “oh, you poor, poor child, I’m so sorry.”
Then he wiped his tears on his sleeve and pulled Enigma to their feet, making an effort to smile.
“It’s dark,” Enigma whimpered. Their lashes were wet. Enigma stood, feebly.
Perciphinctes chuckled quietly. “Now that is something I can fix.”
The floral necromancer gestured at the open expanse of field, and a streak of green and pink and purple left his hand, shooting over the grass toward the mountains. Where the light traveled, the grass withered, becoming ash in the starlight. But from the ash, flowers began to grow and blossom. Rose, cherry, buttercup, dahlia — all opened to reveal a glowing center.
Enigma stared at the trail of lights, awestruck and shivering in the night. “I’m not —”
“You don’t need to be anything.” Perciphinctes offered a genuine smile now. “But what you do need is a name.”
“I have a name,” Enigma said irritably.
“No, what you have is a label.” His eyes gleamed. “You were — are — an enigma, but I know enough about you now to give you this.”
They stamped their foot on the ground. “I have a name, Perci!”
“Now you do,” said Perciphinctes, a fiery glint in his eyes. “You are Skyflower the Omnimancer. Shepherd of Lenaka and Harbinger of Peace.”
Skyflower opened their mouth to object, but Perciphinctes put a finger to his lips and Skyflower slowly closed their mouth. The two stared at each other for a long time, breathing the night air and listening to the sounds of the woods. Skyflower gazed back toward the only place they had ever called home, and something cold and lonely in their heart finally dissolved.
With a slight smile, they nodded to Perciphinctes and to Outer Dusk, turned toward the mountains, and ran as they never had in their entire life.
“You really don't have to be that theatrical.” A smirk played at the corner of Enigma’s thin mouth.
“And you don’t have to say that every time I take a breath,” Arboriasus said icily. Dusting off her hands, she picked up a small bundle of silk, tied with twine. “I packed some flora for you. You’ll probably throw it away as soon as you leave, so I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
Enigma folded their arms and sniffed. “I don’t want to go.”
“But alas, that is the reality we live in,” said a voice to their left.
The shrubs withered away on one side of the clearing to reveal a tall man striding toward them, clad in deep shades of purple.
Enigma slouched on the log. “What is it with you people and timing? Why does everything have to be such a production!”
Arboriasus sucked in a sharp breath. “Child, you will not speak to Perciphinctes the Necromancer with that —”
“It’s all right, Arbi.” Perciphinctes smiled warmly. “They’re just a little nervous.”
“I most certainly am not!” Enigma said indignantly. “I just don’t think this is the right thing to do.”
“I know.” Perciphinctes’s smile faded. He offered Enigma a hand, which they did not take, but instead stood and stalked out of the clearing, gritting their teeth at the dramatic conversation this would inevitably bring about.
Enigma began to run, clutching the bundle, vines lashing out at their bare arms. They stopped only once to open the silk, remove the flora, and tear it to pieces. The night was warm and their hair was flattened with sweat, but they sprinted until they emerged from the trees into an open field. A vast expanse of grass stretched to a distant range of smoky mountains, silhouettes visible in the starlight.
It was only when Enigma stopped at the edge of the woods, breathing heavily, that they noticed Perciphinctes standing beside them, as irritatingly unperturbed as always.
Enigma cursed under their breath. “I won’t go, Perci. Outer Dusk is my home.”
“Look at your home.” Perciphinctes gazed back at the lanterns of Outer Dusk hanging in the trees. “This place has nothing for you: a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, whose only magical resource is floramancy.”
“But I can’t even do that!” Enigma sat down in the grass. “Everyone here can do invocations or your fancy death flower stuff!”
“Everyone can do magic. You simply haven’t discovered yours yet. I trust you will find your way as you go,” Perciphinctes said gravely. “And go you must. Ashilk must fall.”
“But not me!” A tear threatened to roll down Enigma’s cheek, and they blinked angrily. “Why would you think I’m capable of this?”
“Because Ashilk doesn’t know you exist. Believe me, if I thought there was anyone else out there whose aura it hadn’t touched, you would not need to leave.”
“Perci, I’m too weak and stupid! I’ll die out there!”
Enigma grabbed Perciphinctes’s flowery sleeve. They were crying now, and they hated themselves for it. “I’m scared. You were right. Just don’t make me go.”
A drop of water fell onto Perciphinctes’s sleeve, and Enigma realized he was crying, too.
Perciphinctes whispered softly, “oh, you poor, poor child, I’m so sorry.”
Then he wiped his tears on his sleeve and pulled Enigma to their feet, making an effort to smile.
“It’s dark,” Enigma whimpered. Their lashes were wet. Enigma stood, feebly.
Perciphinctes chuckled quietly. “Now that is something I can fix.”
The floral necromancer gestured at the open expanse of field, and a streak of green and pink and purple left his hand, shooting over the grass toward the mountains. Where the light traveled, the grass withered, becoming ash in the starlight. But from the ash, flowers began to grow and blossom. Rose, cherry, buttercup, dahlia — all opened to reveal a glowing center.
Enigma stared at the trail of lights, awestruck and shivering in the night. “I’m not —”
“You don’t need to be anything.” Perciphinctes offered a genuine smile now. “But what you do need is a name.”
“I have a name,” Enigma said irritably.
“No, what you have is a label.” His eyes gleamed. “You were — are — an enigma, but I know enough about you now to give you this.”
They stamped their foot on the ground. “I have a name, Perci!”
“Now you do,” said Perciphinctes, a fiery glint in his eyes. “You are Skyflower the Omnimancer. Shepherd of Lenaka and Harbinger of Peace.”
Skyflower opened their mouth to object, but Perciphinctes put a finger to his lips and Skyflower slowly closed their mouth. The two stared at each other for a long time, breathing the night air and listening to the sounds of the woods. Skyflower gazed back toward the only place they had ever called home, and something cold and lonely in their heart finally dissolved.
With a slight smile, they nodded to Perciphinctes and to Outer Dusk, turned toward the mountains, and ran as they never had in their entire life.