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How far could possibly be too far?
Magic surges over blue palms, settling easily into his fingertips, the unfamiliar spell draining far more than what he was used to. Forbidden magic was only forbidden because of its price.
What price was he willing to pay?
Anything, was his only answer. The spell responded in kind, bright and cold as light filled the room, forcing out any other thought.
-
Silence.
The Sage sat up, the world spinning as he did. His body was heavy, exhausted, the air still cool with the remnants of a spell. Another failure, and another week of recuperation to replenish the mana he had spent.
“What a waste,” he huffed, stretching out his limbs to shake off the fatigue that settled over him. “All this for a-”
Something in the corner shifted, a mumbled groan so soft the Sage thought it was his own body complaining for a moment. It moved again, a dark lump, moving in a way that a newly born animal would - unsure of the world, but knowing it had to move.
The Sage watched until it went limp, a miserable sigh escaping it before it curled around the cobwebs, and when it didn’t move again, he did. Magic sparked in his hand, hesitating for a moment before his key staff was firmly in his hand, and with a tug, the lump in the corner was pulled into the light.
Deep black robes like the void with fine gold trim, and hair blue enough to rival his own. A vast expanse of stars glittered within, twinkling in the glow of the setting sun just outside the window. It was almost a mirror image, if mirrors were their own person.
They mumbled softly in their state, eyes finally blinking to life, blinded by the light streaming in, but it gave them no warmth. They turned away, only to find mismatched eyes peering at them like an owl, too wide and far too curious.
“Well lookit that!” The Sage grinned, sharp as the lump-now-cookie stared up at him. “And here I thought nothing happened! How charming, it’s like you’re me!”
The cookie only stared, body refusing to listen to any command as they laid there on the floor. How very curious indeed.
“Up, up!” he sang, and with some effort, pulled the cookie up to sit, grip settling firmly on their shoulders to look them over. Light blue, like a sunny day, and dark blue, like the twilight, stared up at him.
“I wonder,” the Sage purred, leaning in close, that grip impossibly tight on one shoulder, but his other hand moved to the cookie’s chin, tilting it this way and that to look at them closer. “And what might you be called?”
The cookie didn’t answer, mouth parted just enough that they might have, had they the words to do so. The Sage smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“I asked you a question,” he murmured, tightening the grip he had on their chin, thumb reaching up over their lip. “I would like an answer.”
“I… apologize,” they answered, voice as smooth as milk, but something in it trembled. “Where… am I?”
The Sage withheld his disappointment, forcing a smile as the edge of his nail dipped into the soft skin of their lip. “Might you answer my question first?”
They blinked, as if registering the world for the first time all over again, nodding slowly. “I… am the Fount of All Knowledge.”
The Sage snorted, barking out a sharp laugh. He pulled his hand away, only to reach back in to cup the cheek of this strange cookie.
“Aren’t you something! My, a Fount of Knowledge! Isn’t that fun!” he laughed, a shrill sound that made the Fount flinch.
“I’m sorry, what of my-?”
“Oh, hush, hush,” the Sage hissed the last word, his nails digging into soft dough. His smile was all sharp points, with no gentle edge to find comfort in. “Oh, this won’t do, no no no. What a funny world, full of funny little spells.”
The Fount attempted to pull away, but the Sage allowed no such freedom, using the hand on his shoulder to grip the other side of his face, pulling him back in.
“What an exciting turn of events, you are exactly what I needed,” he murmured, pressing his forehead firmly into the Fount’s.
“I don’t…” the Fount mumbled, nearly losing his balance as the Sage released him from his grasp. The imprints of nails remained in his dough.
“Where are my manners?” the Sage laughed, towering over the Fount as he rested his hand on his collar, the sun reflecting blue light off of the gemstone pinned there. The Fount froze.
“I am the Sage of Truth! I imagine we have quite a bit to discuss, my dear.”
-
Steam curled above the teacup, the only warmth that the Fount had found since finding himself in this new place. The sun had long set by now, so the offer of tea at such a time was strange, but the Sage was wide awake, as if the time did not affect him at all. It rarely affected the Fount, but it was still strange.
“Fount of All Knowledge, is that correct?” The Sage was speaking, but the Fount barely registered the words, absently stirring his tea. It was strangely cloudy.
“Fount is fine, I know it is a mouthful,” he replied, looking up. The Sage was halfway over the table, watching him with owlish eyes, almost comically huge. The thin slitted pupils reminded him of a cat, or perhaps a snake.
The latter sounded more accurate.
“Fount…” The name was tried on the Sage’s tongue, licking his lips before settling back in his chair. “My, what a title. How enticing, to have such a lovely guest.”
“I would like to ask about that,” the Fount mumbled, letting his cup warm his hands. “I… do not recall what I was doing before I was here, but I feel that it was vaguely important. How did I end up here?”
“Oh, you musn’t worry about that,” the Sage said, waving him off and taking a sip of his tea, pinky pointing at the Fount in an exaggerated fashion. “Enjoy your time, relax! You must be so tired of… Fount-ly duties, aren’t you?”
“That isn’t…” The Fount shook his head, taking a sip of his own tea, cupping it carefully in his hands. How oddly sweet. “My duties as the Fount of Knowledge are important, they are not a burden, as you suggest.”
“Oh, come now,” the Sage purred, drinking the rest of his tea in one go before standing up, circling around the table to move behind the Fount. “Surely even you need rest? I’m only suggesting a day off. Perhaps two, however much you need. That was quite a spell I used, surely it made you tired as well.”
“I do not feel fatigue as normal cookies do,” the Fount shook his head with a frown. “I have no need for a day of rest. Even just this moment feels…”
The cloud swirled idly in his cup. Steam no longer rose from it, but it still felt warm in his palms. The Sage hummed behind him.
“So what are you?”
The Fount looked up, neck craning to stare at the Sage. What a strange question.
“I am the Fount-”
“No,” the Sage chastised, cupping his face to keep his gaze locked only on him. “Are you some kind of god? Perhaps the child of one? Are you even a real cookie?”
The Fount froze under those cold fingertips, blue eyes wide. The Sage grinned, all too sharp.
“I see,” he murmured, letting his hands fall away, the Fount’s head falling back to rest, staring at his tea. “You’re a freak just like me, aren’t you?”
Ceramic clattered harsher than the Fount meant, cup falling just on the corner of its saucer, spilling tea onto the table. Neither of them seemed too bothered by the mess.
“I would like to go home, now,” the Fount said, neither question nor demand. A simple, stated fact, the truth. “I have cookies who are waiting for me.”
“Come now, surely there’s no need to rush? You’ve only just arrived, and clearly I’ve struck a very important nerve.” There was some unknown calm in the Sage’s tone, circling around the Fount and nearly pinning him back into his chair. The slits of his pupils seemed thinner than they were just a moment ago.
“I insist,” the Fount tried again. “I would like to go home.”
With a simple flourish of magic, a key pushed between the two of them, shoving the Sage away, giving the Fount just enough room to move. Blue light drenched the room, and beneath the milky white crown of the Fount’s staff, his Soul Jam pulsed with magic, power that left the Sage in stunned silence.
Magic the Sage hadn’t felt in a long time.
“There you are,” the Sage mused, feet settling on the floor. “I really was wondering where you had gone. Find some other me to fill your insatiable little void?”
Silence. The Fount stood firm, glancing between himself and the Soul Jam of Knowledge.
“Silent treatment, huh? After everything you've done?” The Sage approached, something venomous in his tone as he grabbed at the staff, pulling the Soul Jam close. “Gods, you were always so infuriating like this.”
“Please don't,” the Fount tugged back, but his grip faltered, slipping around metal. He found it again, but there was no small amount of strain to keep his Soul Jam close. “Sage of Truth, let go of my-”
“Mine,” the Sage hissed, possessive. “This was mine first, and just because of some stupid little-”
“Stop it!” the Fount snapped, snatching away his staff properly now. He was feeling properly drained now, the stars in his hair dull. Something wasn't right. “I don't know what you are talking about, but this is my Soul Jam.”
With a huff, the Sage straightened, brushing off his collar and readjusting his brooch, the blue of his own Soul Jam dull in comparison to that of Knowledge.
“You're right, terribly right, what an awful host I've been,” the Sage relented, bowing his head. The Fount relaxed, but only barely, trembling hands gripping his staff a little too tight. “We should focus on getting you home. I would ask that you give me some time to… reverse the spell.”
This seemed too easy.
“What would you have me do until then?” the Fount asked, holding his staff close to his chest.
“Relax your pretty little mind for the night, won't you?” the Sage suggested, approaching no closer. His gaze wandered to the jewel of his staff. “I'll have something ready come morning. Cross my heart.”
There was a beat of silence between them before the Fount relented with a sigh. Some unknown weight caused his shoulders to sag, eyes drooping closed. What choice did he have?
“I would at least like to look over this spell you performed to summon me here,” he said, meeting the Sage's gaze with his own. “I believe that much at least is owed.”
“Naturally,” the Sage said, beaming. “It isn't very often that I meet like-minded creatures like myself.”
Those owl-like eyes lingered a bit longer before the Sage turned away, diving into his bookshelves with purpose. He seemed genuine, searching his shelves with earnest. The Fount could forget their little moment earlier.
He often did, after all.
“Here we are!” The Sage produced a rather thick tome from the middle shelf, the pages flipping themselves with a swish of his fingers. “Let's have some fun, shall we? I'm rather keen on your opinion.”
He only nodded once, following the Sage back to the table.
-
The Fount of Knowledge was one who very rarely slept. It was unnecessary, for the most part, and often left him in worse shape when he woke up. He always assumed it was some kind of punishment to feel so disoriented, like someone physically in his dough affected him negatively for going to sleep.
Even now, his punishment continued.
His body was unusually heavy, eyelids sagging as he attempted to get some understanding of where he was. Memories returned in pieces, of spells and chatter, but not much else. Something was missing.
“Morning, my sleepy other half!” the Sage chirped in his ear. “My, you went out like a light last night! What a shame, I enjoyed talking with you.”
The Fount let out a soft mumble in response, rubbing at his eyes. A soft pillow nest was his only cushion between himself and the floor. His staff had been tucked in beside him, like a child and their favorite stuffed toy.
“Now, I do believe I made you a promise,” he continued, only allowing the Fount to sit up and bring his staff into his lap. “A simple reversal of the spell should bring you right back home! It'll be like you were only gone for the night.”
Something still wasn't right.
“That sounds fine,” the Fount said, fatigue heavy on his words. He cleared his throat. “I would prefer if you didn't use that spell again, after you send me home.”
“Oh, yes yes, we discussed this extensively last night,” the Sage agreed, nearly cutting the other off in the process. Magic was already pooling in his hands, warm light seeping into his palms. “There will be no need for visits again.”
The Fount’s gaze settled on the magic in his hands, but shiny blue caught his eye, settled firmly on the Sage's collar. It really was all too similar.
His fingers reached for his own Soul Jam, attached with care to the eye of his staff. Knowledge was always meant to guide, but to have it so close to one's heart…
His Soul Jam was cold.
Unresponsive.
The Fount's eyes widened.
“Farewell, dear Fount,” the Sage murmured, his tone giddy as the room filled with light. “May we never cross paths again.”
-
The darkness of the Spire had always been lonely, but Knowledge had always been the Fount’s companion.
Now, even that had gone silent. He hadn't moved for hours after his return, cradling a Soul Jam that was not his own, cold and empty.
Silence was his only companion now.