Codex Fragment: The Border of Theryx

  "There lies a thin border between genius and madness, a line so fine that only those who walk it truly know its weight. Theryx, bearer of both titles, is the clearest testament. He appeared when destiny called—not with favor, but with harsh demand, a summons that tore the veil between brilliance and the abyss."

  —Transcribed from the Forgotten Scrolls of the Mad Prophet, found within the Ruins of Eldar'Kor

  ***

  A sound like popping knuckles across a mountain range echoed through the marrowpaths.

  Arin paused mid-step. The cloak stiffened with him. At first, he thought it was another resonance—perhaps the temple pulsing, or a deeper layer of Ossic memory stirring. But then came a smell that was neither mystical nor ancient.

  It was... roasted garlic?

  And then—poof—a human-sized puff of violet smoke burst from the hollow of a broken skull just to Arin’s left. A foot emerged first, sandal flapping. Then a gnarled hand. Then a full figure, cloaked in pale robes that billowed as though underwater, blinking through the smoke and sneezing glitter.

  He was tall, impossibly so in presence if not in frame, with a beard like bleached silk, white as the bones around them, falling in thick waves to his waist. His eyes twinkled with stars that had seen too much. His hat had long since given up being dignified and now wore a bird nest like a crown. His staff appeared carved from the rib of something that had once devoured constellations—and was now sprouting mushrooms.

  He was, unmistakably, a mad wizard.

  And he was delighted.

  “GAHH! Dead gods, I hate that spell,” he muttered, brushing phantom sparks from his beard. “It always leaves a garlic aftertaste and glitter in the knees.”

  He squinted through the haze and froze.

  “By the cranial choir of Saint Flatulence... You’re ALIVE!”

  Arin blinked.

  The old man blinked back. Then gasped like a bard discovering a lost chord.

  He held up one finger, his entire body now trembling with barely-contained excitement.

  “Hold that pose. Don’t breathe. Not a twitch.”

  Arin tensed. Was it magic? Was he in danger?

  The man lunged forward—

  —and pinched his cheek.

  “REAL!” he cried. “You’re not a dust-wight or memory ghost or one of those smug echo-bugs. You’ve got warmth! By the stars! You’ve got... knees!”

  Arin was too surprised to feel anger. The man was peculiar, but he didn’t feel dangerous. Still, Arin had never encountered a Jadoogar before—one of these strange western wizards. They were known in distant tales, but this... this was the first time Arin had seen one with his own eyes. His jaw tightened with awe and confusion. This wizard, with his theatrics and bizarre magic, seemed to defy every notion Arin had of the world.

  "By the flame of the divine," Arin murmured, his hands subconsciously brushing the bone-white cloak that hung heavy upon his shoulders. He had barely processed the wizard’s bizarre appearance when Theryx continued, his hands flicking in rapid, strange patterns.

  “Now, let’s see... A little wind for your hair, a little spark for your eyes!” Theryx muttered, half to himself as he performed another series of odd movements. Arin could barely track the speed of his hands, but suddenly, the air around him rippled, shifting in strange waves as a warm breeze tousled his hair.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Theryx paused and took a few steps back, his eyes widening. “Oh! Oh, I see it now! This is perfect! Absolutely perfect!”

  Arin narrowed his eyes. His own connection to the pulse of the earth, the deep vibrations of the ancient bones, seemed momentarily disrupted. This magic—the wizard’s magic—felt strange, almost alien to him. Yet somehow, it complemented the whispers of the bones, their energy pulsing in harmony with whatever madness the wizard had conjured.

  He watched as Theryx, oblivious to Arin's wariness, waved his staff in the air, and a shimmering sphere of light appeared above them. It shifted and crackled, emitting strange sounds that seemed to echo through Arin's very soul.

  “Ha! Of course, of course! You are something entirely new, aren’t you?” Theryx exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

  Arin blinked, still processing the surreal situation. “I don’t understand,” he muttered. “What are you doing?”

  Theryx chuckled, his voice rich with a mixture of mischief and genuine wonder. “What am I doing? I’m discovering you, my friend. You’re a Paragon, aren’t you? A true Paragon!” He stepped closer, examining Arin with the scrutiny of a scholar and the enthusiasm of a child.

  “A Paragon?” Arin echoed, confused, the term foreign to him. He had heard whispers in his meditations, felt the resonance of ancient forces stirring within him. But the term... it was something beyond his grasp.

  Theryx didn’t wait for a response. “Oh, yes. A Paragon indeed. What are you doing here, in this place? The bones have been waiting for you,” Theryx mused, practically giddy with excitement.

  Arin's pulse quickened. Was this wizard... insane?

  Theryx waved off the question with a flourish. “Never mind that. You’ll find out soon enough.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Just know this—while the bones tell stories, they can also make the future a bit sticky if you’re not careful.”

  Arin felt a strange surge of power within him, his connection to the earth and bones deepening. But before he could fully process it, Theryx was already spinning, muttering to himself as he walked away.

  “Fascinating! Absolutely fascinating! And to think I was just hoping for a nice dinner. Garlic, mushrooms, glitter, a Paragon—this day has been wonderful!”

  Arin stood frozen, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. But before he could respond, Theryx turned back to him, eyes gleaming.

  “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for, my dear Paragon. You’ll learn soon enough that the bones don’t just speak of the past. They speak of what’s to come.”

  With a wink, Theryx snapped his fingers again, and suddenly, the world seemed to twist—a pulse of ancient, otherworldly energy radiated from the wizard’s staff.

  Arin’s chest tightened as he felt the weight of the words settling deep within him. There was more to this—so much more. And yet, before he could even gather his thoughts, Theryx was already walking away, as if he’d imparted some cryptic riddle that Arin would have to figure out on his own.

  "Come along, Paragon! Don’t dawdle, now! We have much to do," Theryx called over his shoulder, his voice laced with a challenge that Arin couldn’t yet understand.

  Arin hesitated, the unfamiliar words and magic swirling in his mind. He didn’t understand this Paragon business, nor the wizard’s strange behavior, but something about the bones... and the wizard’s words... struck a deep chord in him.

  The path ahead was uncertain, and the wizard’s cryptic declaration hung in the air like an unanswered question. But Arin had learned to follow what he couldn’t understand, for it was in the unknown that he’d always found the deepest answers.

  Theryx stopped abruptly, turning back with a sudden realization.

  “Ah! I forgot!” he said with a gleam in his eye. “You can’t understand me, can you?” Theryx snapped his fingers again, and a series of bizarre, high-pitched notes filled the air. Arin’s skin tingled with the strange energy that seemed to emanate from the wizard’s words, but nothing made sense.

  Theryx furrowed his brow, clearly frustrated with the lack of response. “Hmm. Let me try something else.” He began to mutter words in a low, thrumming tone as his staff shimmered with an eerie pulse. His hands began to move in circles, tracing ancient symbols in the air.

  Arin felt the vibrations around him intensify, his own connection to the bones flaring with unknown potential. As Theryx continued his odd incantations, the air thickened, and Arin could feel his own pulse syncing with the rhythm of the wizard’s spellwork. Slowly, it was as though the very marrow of his bones began to hum along with the wizard's chant.

  After a series of rapid hand gestures, Theryx turned to Arin with a triumphant smile.

  “Ah, there it is! I had to find the correct vibration, the resonance of your bones! Now you can hear me!”

  Arin’s eyes widened as the words—his words—began to make sense. They reverberated through him, a quiet hum in his chest.

  “You’re the Paragon, my friend,” Theryx continued, grinning. “Now you can understand me. The bones didn’t just speak to you—they called you here. And now, you will learn what they have to say.”

  But before Arin could process all that had just unfolded, Theryx was already walking away, his voice trailing behind him.

  “Come on, Paragon. The bones are waiting. And we’ve got much to do.”

  Arin hesitated, his heart still racing. For the first time, he felt the ancient pulse of the earth singing through him with clarity, and he knew—without a doubt—that the journey ahead would change everything. The truth, however, was still shrouded in mystery.

  And Arin wasn’t sure if he was ready to uncover it just yet.

  Not until the bones spoke again.

  ***