Ibeos: What If? "Lost in My Own Fantasy"

Chapter 11. Hidden Magus

The battle with the Tunnelstalker left us both rattled and reflective as we caught our breaths in the now bloodstained dankness of the tunnel. I glanced over at Thilo, who was meticulously examining the creature's body, his brow furrowed in concentration. "These markings," he murmured, tracing the strange symbols that were almost branded into the Tunnelstalker's hide. "They're not just random; they look like control spells. Very advanced and very old."

I crouched beside him, my hand hesitating over the coarse fur of the creature, chilled by the implication of his words. "Control spells? You mean, someone was controlling this thing?" The idea of the Seacurians using such creatures as sentinels or guards in these forgotten tunnels added a new layer of danger to our quest.

Thilo nodded, his face grave as he continued his examination. "Yes, and not just controlling—it seems these creatures are being manipulated to patrol and protect certain areas. Look here," he pointed at a particularly distinct symbol, "this is a high-level magical constraint. Only someone with deep knowledge of dark magic could implement this."

I felt a shiver run down my spine, and not from the cold of the tunnel. "And you think the Seacurians?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. Thilo's affirmation was a silent nod, his eyes dark with worry. We settled down, weary but vigilant, and I pulled out the healing potions from our Bag of Holding.

Handing one to Thilo, I watched as he took it with a nod of gratitude, the glow from the potion casting eerie shadows on his face as he drank. The silence between us was filled with the soft sound of our cautious sips, each of us processing the day's harrowing events.

As the potion's warmth spread through my body, easing the ache in my muscles and the sharper pain of my bruises, I felt a momentary relief from the physical demands of our journey.

As the effects of the potion settled, Thilo and I prepared to continue deeper into the tunnel. "Let's get moving," he suggested, his voice low, a sense of urgency underlying his words. "The deeper we go, the closer we get to understanding the true extent of this network."

We packed up our meager belongings and ventured further into the depths. The tunnel began to slope downwards, and the air grew cooler, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing through the vast darkness. Every step felt laborious, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily upon us.

As we ventured deeper into the tunnel, the air grew denser, a mix of earth and something faintly metallic. The deep stillness was disturbed occasionally by the sound of small mammals scurrying through the vast emptiness. Our lanterns flickered, casting long shadows against the damp walls, revealing more intricate symbols and glyphs unlike anything we had seen before.

"These symbols," Thilo paused, tracing his fingers over the intricate carvings, "they're not just decorative. They're historical records, possibly even magical formulas."

Approaching the walls, intrigued by the craftsmanship, I asked, "Do you think these could help us understand what the Seacurians were doing here?"

"It's possible," Thilo replied, his eyes scanning the glyphs with a scholar's keenness. "These might document the use of the tunnel, maybe even hint at its purposes beyond what we've feared."

We set up a modest camp at a wider part of the tunnel, the cold ground beneath us softened slightly by our bedrolls. As the dim light of our lanterns mingled with the shadows, it cast an eerie, comforting glow around our makeshift site. After starting a small, carefully managed fire for warmth, we settled in, our backs against the cool tunnel wall.

I turned to Thilo, who was meticulously arranging his notes and maps beside him. "I didn't realize you knew how to cast spells," I remarked, genuinely surprised by his earlier display of magic.

Thilo chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly in the tunnel. "Yes, well, that's something I picked up during my time at the academy. It wasn't just history and archaeology for me; I was always fascinated by the practical applications of historical knowledge."

"You never mentioned that before," I noted, pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders against the chill.

"Didn't I?" Thilo seemed thoughtful, gazing into the flickering flames. "I suppose there was never a right moment. But yes, during my academy days, I was quite taken with the arcane arts. It was another layer of history—magical history—that seemed just as alive and vibrant as any empire's rise or fall."

His eyes glinted with the reflection of the firelight as he continued. "The academy was a melting pot of knowledge, a place where curious minds could explore almost any facet of learning. Magic, however, had always been my secret passion. I spent countless nights poring over ancient texts and treatises on magical theory, learning spells that were as much about understanding the past as they were about shaping something new."

"That sounds... intense," I said, impressed by his dedication.

"It was," Thilo agreed, his gaze shifting to the shadows that danced along the tunnel walls. "But it was also thrilling. To invoke a spell is to converse with history, to touch the very essence of those who shaped this world long before us."

I paused, the glow of the fire casting flickering shadows across our campsite. Thinking back on our time together, a question rose to the surface of my mind, one that I couldn't hold back asking. "Thilo, when we encountered the Gravalkin and Alexi was fighting...you didn't use your magic. Why is that?"

Thilo's expression turned somber, his gaze fixed on the small flames. "That's... a fair question," he began slowly, his voice a whisper almost lost to the crackling of the fire. "The truth is, I avoid using magic openly unless absolutely necessary. My abilities could easily attract the attention of the Quartz Guard. They're always on the lookout for individuals with unregistered magical talents."

"You mean you're worried about being conscripted?" I asked, trying to understand the full implications.

"Exactly," Thilo nodded. "The Quartz Guard is known for drafting mages into their ranks, often against their will. Once you're noticed, it's hard to stay out of their grasp. They could pull me away from my research, from my freedom to explore history and magic on my terms."

"I see," I replied, my brow furrowed in confusion, realizing once again how the passing of time had changed my world, as the Quartz Guards I had written, disavowed forced conscription. "So you keep your abilities under wraps to avoid that fate."

"Yes," he confirmed, tossing a small stick into the fire. "It's not just about my freedom. Being forced into the Quartz Guard would mean abandoning everything I've worked for, all the dreams I have about uncovering the mysteries of the past. That's a price too high for me."

Our conversation trailed off as we both stared into the fire, lost in our own thoughts. Thilo's secret was out and the risks we were taking suddenly seemed even more daunting, but also more necessary than ever.