March 30, 2025.
Location: Robert's Settlement near Kilrain, Scotland.
Perspective: Robert MacCallum.
The morning sun bathed the dig site in its golden light as I stood before Sorcha and Lilia, both eager and a little apprehensive about what was to come. Behind us, the clansfolk went about their work, the quiet hum of conversation and the clatter of tools providing a comforting backdrop. My gaze swept over the two women, each so different yet both so powerful in their own right.
"Alright," I began, folding my arms as I regarded them. "Magic isn't just something you wield, it's something that flows through you. It's part of you, tied to your essence, your personality, your spirit. Today, we're going to discover what that looks like for each of you."
Lilia's expressive green eyes shone with excitement, while Sorcha's thoughtful demeanor remained steady, though I could sense the curiosity behind her calm exterior.
"First," I continued, gesturing for them to sit, "I want you to meditate. Close your eyes, let your breathing steady, and imagine the magic that now flows within you. Don't try to control it. Don't try to shape it. Just let it be. Feel it swell from your spirit, down through your arms, to your hands. Picture it gathering in front of you, a ball of energy, pure and untamed. Let it take form naturally."
They both complied, settling into meditative poses. Lilia's fingers twitched slightly, eager to move, while Sorcha's hands rested calmly on her knees. I stepped back, giving them the space they needed, and observed.
Moments passed. The air around us seemed to hum with anticipation. Then, slowly, it began.
A gentle swirling light appeared in Lilia's hands, a shimmering sphere of pale gold with streaks of silver threading through it. It danced like sunlight reflecting off water, and I felt a warm breeze radiating from it even from where I stood. Her affinity was clear: life magic, with a hint of rejuvenation born of her innate gentleness and nurturing spirit.
Sorcha, on the other hand, summoned something entirely different. Her sphere was a deep turquoise, streaked with threads of white, like storm clouds over an endless ocean. It churned and swirled, a tangible mixture of wind and water, reflecting her wisdom, adaptability, and the depth of her intuition. I smiled to myself. A perfect fit.
"Good," I said softly, stepping closer. "Now, open your eyes and take a look at what you've created."
Both women opened their eyes, and I watched their reactions. Lilia's face lit up with wonder, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned the sphere of golden energy in her hands.
Sorcha's expression remained thoughtful, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she regarded the swirling sphere of turquoise light.
"This is your magic," I explained. "It's unique to you, an extension of who you are. And now, we're going to see what it can do."
I gestured toward the row of training targets I'd set up earlier, wooden dummies reinforced with some of STEVE's ingenuity to withstand decent damage. "I want you to will the ball of magic toward those targets. Not to destroy, necessarily, but to see how it reacts when directed. Think of it as an introduction to your magic, a handshake, if you will."
Lilia and Sorcha both stood, their magical spheres still hovering between their hands. Lilia moved first, stepping closer to the targets. Her gaze was intense and focused, but her natural warmth softened her movements. She extended her hands, and the golden sphere shot forward in a radiant wave that enveloped the target. The wooden dummy glowed warmly, as though imbued with vitality itself. Lilia stepped back, wide-eyed but thrilled at the response.
"Interesting," I murmured. "It's not destructive, it's restorative. Your magic could turn the tide of any battle, Lilia, keeping allies strong and resilient."
She glanced at me, her expression unsure but pleased. I gave her an encouraging nod. "That's an incredible gift."
Sorcha was next. Her steps were measured as she approached her target. Her turquoise sphere churned and swirled, crackling with energy. She raised a hand, and the sphere shot forward with surprising speed. When it collided with the dummy, it burst in a spray of water and wind, leaving the target damp and spinning slightly from the force. Sorcha's brow furrowed as she examined the result.
"Strong, focused, but adaptable," I observed. "That's going to be extremely useful! Wind and water are powerful together, don't underestimate what you can do with that combination. Just ask any sailor."
She nodded, her usual calm returning as she stepped back to stand beside Lilia. Both women looked at me, expectant, curious, and ready for more.
I smiled at them. "You've taken your first steps. There's a lot more to learn, but for now, let's focus on understanding the basics. You'll have plenty of time to experiment and grow."
As the shimmering spheres of energy faded from Lilia's and Sorcha's hands, I encouraged them to take a step further. "Now that you've touched your magic, it's time to understand it better. Moira is a part of you now."
I explained, my tone gentle but firm. "If you rely on her, she will guide you. Ask her anything. She's generous with knowledge if you're willing to reach out."
Sorcha and Lilia exchanged glances, their expressions thoughtful. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they both closed their eyes. I stepped back and watched as their features slackened, their focus drifting inward.
Moira's voice echoed in my mind briefly, a soft chuckle. "They're asking, Vessel. That's a very good sign."
I watched the two of them slip into an unfocused state, their connection with Moira deepening. Their lips didn't move, but it was clear they were communicating with her, their brows furrowing in thought or lifting in wonder. I smiled, stepping away to leave them to their exploration.
Midday approached as I turned toward the settlement, the sun climbing higher and casting sharp shadows across the newly dug earth. The rumble of STEVE's constructs filled the air as they carved out underground homes, their efficiency a marvel to behold. Clansfolk watched, their faces alight with awe, as wooden pavilions took shape above ground, ready for communal gatherings. Satisfied with the progress, I made my way to STEVE. His floating crystal hummed with energy as I approached, its surface glowing steadily.
"Good morning, STEVE. How are things on your end?" I asked, though I could already guess the answer.
"Busy," STEVE replied immediately, his tone clipped. "The influx of nearly two hundred and fifty individuals has been challenging. While their contributions of materials and labor have been appreciated, the housing situation is woefully inadequate."
I crossed my arms, leaning slightly against the post of a nearby structure. "Go on."
STEVE didn't need encouragement. "Food and water needs are easily met, thanks to my foresight in securing sustainable resources early on. However, shelter is an urgent concern. Temporary solutions like tents won't suffice long-term. If this population is to remain within the walls, proper housing must be constructed. I have prepared options for your consideration."
He projected a glowing list of housing options before me, each detailed with pros and cons:
Modern Apartment Buildings: Highly efficient use of space, able to house many families in a small area. STEVE favored this option for its practicality but acknowledged it might not align with the aesthetic or cultural preferences of the clan.
Magically Reinforced Tent Homes: These would provide quick, lightweight shelter spread across a large area. They were temporary by nature but could be reinforced for durability.
Underground Homes with Above-Ground Pavilions: A hybrid solution where families could have private subterranean homes for safety and comfort, with shared gathering areas above ground. This option required the most resources but offered long-term sustainability and security.
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully as STEVE continued. "Additionally, I have detected increased MPower collection due to the larger population. This influx has caused the Sanctum's influence to extend its range from half a mile to three-quarters of a mile. The magic of Albion is spreading."
The significance of that wasn't lost on me. Every inch of land brought into Albion's influence meant progress toward reclaiming what had been lost. But first, I needed to address the housing problem. "Let's bring Laird Ewan in on this," I decided.
I found Clan Leader Ewan overseeing his people, who were unloading spare supplies, lumber, metals, and fabrics, to be brought to STEVE for processing. When I approached and explained the options, he considered each one carefully. His face was lined with thought, but his voice was steady. "The underground homes with pavilions make the most sense," he said finally. "They'll give us safety from harsh winters and attackers while allowing for open-air gatherings above ground. The children will have space to play, and the clansfolk will feel connected without sacrificing privacy."
I nodded, agreeing with his reasoning. "STEVE, you heard him. Proceed with the construction of the underground homes and pavilions. Use the wood reserves as needed, but monitor the resource levels carefully."
STEVE's crystal pulsed, his tone sharp but satisfied. "As you command, Master Robert. The excavation will begin immediately. This will deplete all stored lumber, but reserves of stone and fertile soil will increase significantly."
The work began at once, the ground trembling faintly as STEVE directed his magical constructs to carve out the new homes. It was incredible to watch; within hours, a network of underground dwellings took shape, each with its own unique layout based on family size. Above ground, wooden pavilions provided open spaces for gatherings and communal activities. The clansfolk watched in awe as the transformation unfolded before their eyes.
By mid-afternoon, the construction was complete. Families began moving into their new homes, their excitement palpable. Children darted between the pavilions, playing games of chase and hide-and-seek, their laughter echoing through the air. Women adorned the entrances of their underground homes with colorful fabrics and trinkets, while men inspected the craftsmanship with approving nods.
Laird Ewan stood beside me, his arms crossed as he surveyed the bustling scene. "You've done good work here, Robert," he said, his tone gruff but warm. "My people are happy. That's no small feat."
As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, the clansfolk gathered once more around the central pavilion for their customary meal. Children's laughter echoed through the air as they dashed between newly claimed homes, while the aroma of roasted meats and fresh bread filled the gathering space. The day's hard work had left everyone hungry, but the atmosphere was jubilant, their spirits high as they settled together in a sprawling circle.
A barrel-chested man, carrying an oversized club over his shoulders, approached Laird Ewan. I hadn't met him yet, but his imposing size and confident stride suggested he was Torin, Ewan's champion and bodyguard, a role earned through experience and expertise. He spoke briefly with Ewan, his voice a low rumble, before parting and stepping into the crowd.
Shortly after, Laird Ewan stood, his commanding presence drawing the attention of all. He raised his goblet high, his voice booming over the chatter, "Laird Robert!"
Every head turned toward me, curious and expectant. I paused mid-bite, glancing around at the watchful eyes, before wiping my hands and standing to face Ewan. His broad grin and twinkling eyes told me he was about to put me on the spot.
"A dire situation has been brought to my attention," he declared, his voice rich with mock seriousness, "I would have a boon from you, if you have the generosity to grant it."
It took me a moment to catch on, but I quickly realized this was a game, a verbal spar steeped in theatrics and tradition. I straightened, doing my best to meet his energy. "Oh? Is that so?" I called back, trying to project my voice with the same confidence. "Speak, my friend and long-lost family, that I may know your desire and search the talent of my generosity!"
Ewan placed a hand dramatically over his heart, as if mortally wounded. "Great woe is upon me, m'laird! For though my people and my kin have found a place to truly call home…" His voice grew mournful, and he dropped his goblet to his side with a flourish, "…we are distraught! Tormented by a failing of your own, to provide something of dire need to us all!"
The clan erupted in chuckles and murmurs, their enjoyment of the exchange evident. I held my ground, shaking my head as if in disbelief. "Say it isn't so! The clan is your flock, and I would vow to be their shepherd, providing safety and full bellies for as long as I am able to do so!"
I spread my arms wide, meeting his exaggerated theatrics with my own. "I have shared my land and my magic! My hopes are one with your hopes, such is the depth of my magnanimity!"
Ewan raised his hands skyward, his face a mask of pleading exasperation. "Why then? My friend, my brother of Albion…" He let the pause stretch, the suspense hanging thick in the air. "…must we suffer the lack of…" He trailed off again, milking the moment for all it was worth, before bellowing with mock anguish, "…a NAME for our new home?! Is it true that it will always be 'The Digsite?!'"
The clan erupted into cheers and laughter, their support for the question resounding. I couldn't help but laugh too, both at his dramatics and at my own oversight. Ewan pressed his advantage, stepping forward with hands outstretched in exaggerated pleading, "My Laird Robert, what say you?"
I groaned dramatically, clutching at my head. "Oh, how can it be that I have failed you and yours so mightily?!" I turned to the clan, throwing my hands into the air. "We must call upon your Great Seer, new druidess of Clan MacEwan, future master of wind and sea! Let her cast her thoughts upon what we shall call our home so that it pleases the Gods, Moira, and every soul among us!"
The clan cheered loudly as Sorcha stepped forward, her spry movements a testament to her newfound vigor. Her silvery harp shimmered at her side, but for now, she carried orbs of magic in her hands, one rippling with water, the other swirling with air currents. She smiled, her gaze sharp as she gestured dramatically.
"The people have made their wish known!" she called, her voice clear and commanding. "And I will divine the will of the stars!"
The gathered clansfolk fell silent, watching intently as Sorcha lifted her magical orbs high above her head. The water and wind began to spiral together, swirling upward into the twilight sky. The spell climbed higher, its light mingling with the stars, until with a brilliant flash, the orbs burst apart, their magic streaking across the heavens.
A glowing line began to form, connecting the stars above in a curving, intricate pattern. The air trembled faintly as the magic shimmered, spelling out a word across the sky, a word that seemed to hum with significance, resonating with every soul below.
Sorcha extended her hand toward the glowing constellation, her voice ringing out with finality. "This! It is the name we shall sear into our hearts as our new homeland!"
The clansfolk gazed upward, their breath held in anticipation, as the name of their new home began to etch itself into the stars...