In the Silver Realm's vast expanse, the Flux of the Aether swirls around divine guardians, empowering mischievous dreamers to manipulate enchanted metals. The flux, resembling clouds of aurora borealis, crosses the skies between portals, creating a vortex of divine energy.

Within the metamantic art lies the Meta, a nexus linking realities with energy. This vital connection enables the Metamancers to harness the Aether, the divine emanation, and allows them to decode the intricate relationships between metals from worlds beyond. The Meta provides the essential knowledge and insight needed to master the flux, and unleashes its full potential.

The divine force represents the transcendent source from which both, Aether and Meta, originate. It is the ancient essence, the foundation of existence itself.

Aether, Meta, and the Ineffable form a powerful triad; cherubim guard and revere these celestial forces. The Ineffable creates worlds from beyond the Dragons Realm, the worlds create life, life venerates the creator, and everything is God.

Divine concepts are not easy to understand, there are layers, steps veiled to us, poor slave souls. Every life must seek knowledge, but angels have no free will, they accomplish divine orders, they are not life, but breaths of the Ineffable. Cherubim possess virtue and flaming swords, nothing more.

Within the Silver Temple's sacred walls, the secrets of the triad have been passed down through generations since the Great Rift. This legacy, woven from threads of metalcraft, binds fallen cherubim to their destinies.

Solomon's name resounds throughout his peers as a master of the Aether, and the Grand Master of Magnidri, the mystical capital, which the Frosts erected aeons ago. His profound influence shapes the political and magical landscapes, but beneath his calm exterior lies histories of struggles and triumphs, as deep scars forging the wise mentor he is.

Before his encounter with the sage Solomon, an insatiable curiosity drives Varos to seek to explore the depths of the flux and unlock the secrets of the Aether. After a long adventure in the darkest alleys of Dark Venice, facing the fear of the dark, his journey in Magnidri begins as an apprentice, with aspirations for power and recognition driving him deeper into the heart of the Silver Realm.

As Solomon's apprentice, Varos yearns to master the mystical arts and uncover the secrets of all this magic around the Metamancers. Ancient shards and shimmering crystals surround Varos; he feels compelled to unlock the long-guarded lore of Metamancy.

An ancient pact bound the Metamancers, entrusting their most potent spells to shards of crystallized knowledge. Within the Silver Temple's labyrinthine sharbrary, frosty Elementals guard with reverence the shards of wisdom, honoring their mutual pact of protection.

Venturing into the sacred sharbrary, Varos feels the air crystallizing around him. Frost Elementals glide between shelves of glowing shards, their presence, a constant icy vigilance. The ambient chill sends shivers down his spine, but he presses forward, determined to unlock the secrets of Metamancy.

Among the shelves, Varos discovers ice-etched shards, crystals gleaming with ancient power. Examining these artifacts, he feels elemental essences pulsing through his veins, unveiling the complexities of the Aether. In the timeless sharbrary, one hour feels like ten. Varos manipulates a silver sheen obsidian shard, sparks swirling around his arms, the smell of cast iron in the air. His mind transcends the mundane, turning memories into reality.

Spacetime flows to the past with the Flux of the Aether. Scared away in a trinket shop, Varos is a lost, dirty and hungry boy, stressed with the demons on his trail. Elara enters the trinket shop, after conjuring a powerful enchantment of luminous illusions, chasing away the Shadow Demons, and being able to hide for a moment. Varos shows himself, and Elara is thrilled to accomplish her mission. 

She fuses metals in her hands and blows the vapors toward the boy, reigniting his inner crucible. Ecstatic and now full of hope, he takes Elara's hand and sighs with some relief, “Thank you.” The shard becomes a void of black mist, orbiting over his hand, the spell disappears, fading, and leaving a bitter smile on his face, joy and sadness mixed, scars forever present in his memories.

Every night, the Frost Elementals let the ambient cold permeate the surroundings, as a reminder, the weight of knowledge they safeguard, freezing the hills. 

As Varos refines his skills, his growing ambition tempts him toward greater power. However, each session with the Elementals reminds him of the solemn pact they share, grounding his aspirations. The haunting presence of the Elementals serves as a poignant reminder of the pact, binding the Metamancers. They can draw upon the power of the Elementals, but not without consequences. The icy wisdom seeps into the apprentice's very soul, leaving an indelible mark on his path. Choices in the crystalline sanctuary will shape his journey, forging his crucible within.

Varos hunches over a crystal-encrusted broken shard, its peculiar crack mended with gold. As he studies it, a sudden chill permeates the air. Cryon, the Frost Elemental guardian, emerges from icy clouds, his eyes blazing with intensity.

“What are you doing, young Metamancer?” Cryon's voice echoes. “These shards are too powerful for you. Meddling with them can cause great pain for all of us. You barely understand gold. Oh, boy, you are so young.”

Varos's throat tightens with guilt. “I'm sorry, Cryon. The shard's design and this crack piqued my curiosity. What secrets does it hold?”

“Youthful curiosity is dangerous, Varos,” Cryon retorts, “these shards hold deep secrets, even the wise approach with caution. Respect the Flux of the Aether. The divine breath flows in all directions; respect the stairway and go step by step.”

Varos has a keen sense of perceiving inner truth, he detects darkness in Cryon's voice, his curiosity deepens, “Thank you. Is something troubling you, Cryon?”

“Oh, now do you have senses?” Ironic Cryon.

“I know you have a frosty heart, though you have energy.” Varos touches his shoulder, his hand freezes.

Cryon's gaze softens, exhaling a heavy sigh. “Indeed, there is cause for concern. The Elementals teeters on the brink of turmoil. The balance we've maintained for millennia is under threat in our realm. The Fallen of the Frosts was a disastrous war, with Elementals destroying each other. This is all the primordial cherubs' fault, The First War, and the Frosts escaping to new lands. We experienced difficult times in our new home, even though it was a long time ago, there are wounds that never heal. I dread the return of such abominable times.”

Varos, forces from icy veils are growing restless. Not long ago, I was speaking with Pyron, a fire Elemental expert at propagating his flames, you know, it's challenging to quell someone who, when destroyed, replicates himself. I've heard he's teaching the Frosts, but I'm not sure why. I didn't find any sense in this rumor.”

The apprentice in astonishment, murmuring to himself, “A war between Frosts? Why? What power do they have to raise such a stir?” Varos does not realize his own weakness.

Cryon's eyes reflect a mix of sadness and resolve. “It is a culmination of grievances and misunderstandings, fueled with external influences from beyond our realm. We have always coexisted, but you are right, these times of change have stirred unrest among our kind. The fragile harmony we've known may soon shatter, and if it does, catastrophic consequences for both the Elemental Realm and the Silver Realm will ignite. Yes, Varos, it can reach this land, they will reconquer.”

“I can't solve this for you, Cryon. I don't have the answers. As you said, I'm too young. I don't know how to provide a solution to prevent this tragic event from happening. I hope this can be resolved with peace. There is a lot of magic here, if used for war, I'm afraid that everything could be lost.” The young apprentice murmurs, the revelations pressing on his shoulders, “I still have no power.” 

Cryon grab the shard from Varos's hand and says, “Concentrate on your studies for now, Varos. The shard's secrets aren't going anywhere. Remember, you're on a path to greatness. Your transformation has bound you to the elemental forces in a way no Metamancer has experienced before.” he returns the shard to Varos, “The fate of our realms may rest in the hands of one who can bridge the gap between crystal and metal.” He turns and retreats into the depths of the place.

As the crystals cast shimmering shadows upon the walls, Varos is no longer an ambitious young Metamancer, but a vital player in a conflict destined to shape destinies beyond the Silver Realm. The smell of war looms in the room, and the Metamancers' fate hangs in the balance. He returns the shard to the crystal shelf, and the gold piece detaches itself from the crack, falling into his hands. He looks around and tucks it into his armor, thinking in Cryon's words.

***

Spacetime flows forward with the Flux of the Aether, Varos stands at the edge of a frozen cliff, the howling wind swirling around him as he watches the dance of the ice Elementals below, near the portal to the Frost Realm. Their power, both terrifying and mesmerizing, calls to him, whispering promises of strength untold. Surrounding the hills, hundreds of sword-wielding paladins guard the portal to the Frozen Realm, their armor glinting against the icy landscape.

He tightens his grip on his sword, a mix of excitement and fear churning within him. To harness such power could elevate him beyond his wildest dreams, but at what cost? A paladin approaches, his voice stern. “You should not be here, Varos.”

“My name is Varos, son of the Loremaster Shade and the Grand Master Baccio. I have no fear. Who are you to warn me?” Varos responds with a defiant glare.

The paladin stands firm, undeterred through Varos's challenge. “I know who you are, Varos. But you must learn that fearlessness has no place on the battlefield.” He warns. “My name is Argum. Now, get out of here before your bravery costs you dearly.”

Solomon's voice cuts through the tension. “Careful, Varos.” The elder Metamancer says, his presence materializing beside them with a quiet rustle of robes. “Power like that comes with a price not easy to pay. The Elementals and the metals exist in harmony; do not provoke the Icy Veins.”

Together, both retreat from the cliff's edge, heading back towards the safety of the Silver Temple, Argum observes them fading away in the cold mist.

As they walk through the echoing halls, their footsteps light upon the ancient stones, and Solomon insists, “Remember, mastery of the Aether is not about subduing it with brute force.” He advises in a calm voice, despite the frost brewing outside.

Varos listens, the paladin's warning and Solomon's wisdom converging in his mind, shaping his understanding of the true nature of power. He lets his mind travel to his past, and the flow of spacetime turns in his memories...

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