#sun school

[save-the-spiral]

Wiztober 2022 Day One: Celestial

if you want me to lie and say i edited this i will but . i didnt.

(Prompt List)

Three aspects to battle. The magical spells, the magic used to cast them, and the body that acts as a vessel for that magic.

In turn, you have the schools of Sun, Star, and Moon, a set of three, the celestial schools of a more dangerous, esoteric magic than the two triads of elemental and spiritual. 

A wizard is still unable to learn all three schools of a triad. Not fully, when two already pushes some to their limits, mana bursting at the seams of their being as their magical schools merge and clash in their own ways, an unseen battle beneath their skin. 

Combining celestial magics is more simple of a matter on the surface. 

Sun and Star, one the larger and brighter version of the other, one that sustains life and the other dead long ago before we ever saw it. They intertwine as the wizard gilds their spell cards with enchantments, as magic itself circles them as an obedient hound would before creating a shield that bubbles them and expands their potential if only for a few rounds of combat.

Star and Moon, both concerned only with the self, both looking inward so far they lose themselves in it. A Star wizard is more prone to facades, to masking their true self from the world for their own protection and privacy. A Moon wizard is one of shifting faces, until they cannot remember who or what their original form truly was. And so they transform in battle, a shifting phase obscured by glittering stardust, and many never look past the surface of this. Others will never question the facades and masks, and so the wizard changes more and more, trying to gauge if anyone is paying any attention at all. Until drastic actions are taken, they won’t. And a Star and Moon wizard is far too subtle for such things.

Sun and Moon, opposites intertwined, two sides of the same coin, obfuscating the other’s light or creating it. Lovers or rivals or siblings in whatever world one travels to, gods aplenty to describe the celestial bodies that pull at their oceans and nourish their crops. The sun is the leader, pulling every other insignificant piece of rock in its gravity, spinning them endlessly. The moon can hide the sun’s light, if only for a brief moment. Still a wizard’s eyes could be seared from looking directly at this eclipse, yet they will anyway, entranced by what happens so infrequently, a reversal of power. Sun magic will enchant spell cards, and Moon magic will twist the body. There is no full connection, and so if the transformed wizard enchants their cards, it will never be quite right. Moon magic has a tendency to eclipse the sun magic, and if a wizard does not know this, it could be a fatal mistake.

To properly utilize all three schools, one would need all three of their magics at their beck and call. Yet no one does, they physically cannot. No mortal can dictate the heavens in such a way, not when there is a song these celestial bodies have already choreographed a dance to. Not when there are gods and beings far beyond the wizard’s comprehension. 

The wizard can stay content with their petty magic, the stardust and shifting skin and blazing spells. It will never truly affect the night above them, the way stars glitter and the moon wanes and the sun burns. 

[save-the-spiral]

Sun magic is from what orbits around them. What is so very far away, post mortem visages of stars, the warmth of the sun itself, the people a sun wizard will push away, thinking it is for their own good. Sun magic sinks deep into the wizard. It's warm and calming, so powerful that at some point it pushes at the wizard intending to use it, the gravity of that magic making them want to fall to the floor and sleep forever, a cat in a sunbeam.

Star magic is from the superficial. Seeing what is not there, romanticizing what is already dead and gone, or a person who was never there. Star magic is dazzling, searing into the eyes of the wizards who use it, the afterimage of fireworks or glitter or holographic explosions tattooed beneath their eyelids, a constant reminder. They are surrounded by star magic, so others will make a constellation of them. Others will see the star wizard as more than they truly are. Others will tell stories about shapes and lines they connect between the stars that are not there, but the magic compels them.

Moon magic is from pulling, the gravity of a satellite reaching towards the ocean, ever gazing into that infinitely churning tide, a rippling mirror showing the moon's own image. The moon could be Narcissus, or Tantalus, facing some divine punishment for vanity or trickery, wanting to consume something forbidden, yet still pulling at something bigger than itself. The moon wizard feels the pulling at their skin, their scales shifting and fur changing shades as they try to find a form they can rest in. The moon never rests. The moon wizard's claws are out, shifting into harmless human nails, shifting into silver crescents that reflect moonlight shining into their room. The moon does nothing but pull, but orbit around something bigger than itself and still yearn for more. The moon wizard shifts again, a terrifying amalgamation of scales and fur, feathers splayed, eyes finally closing as a cloud covers their muse from the night sky.

[save-the-spiral]

Shadow and Sun are intrinsically intertwined, as all threads of magic are in the tapestry woven by the Song Of Creation. Without one there cannot be the other. There is no shadows without sun, but without the deep black of space there is nowhere for the sun to exist.

The shadow is the other side of the coin, where many think the Moon should lie, but the moon is merely a small satelite of every world. It is not the negative space to accompany the center of the Spiral, that burning star of light and warmth and magic.

Moon is linked to shadow magic, it is an echo, another changing magic, with darkness and coldness buried deep. It is a magic that works best where the Sun does not shine, at night or in deep dungeons. Moon changes the perception of reality, it shifts what it's user experiences, but it will never have the permanence of Shadow.

Star has its own link to Shadow, pinpricks of light and burning things larger than wizards can comprehend. Endless and selfish, Star magic and Shadow both focus on the user, never gracing others with the benefits unless it also includes the wizard. Star is flighty, whimsical, but it is also an emotional magic, and left uncontrolled it can rival the moodiness of magic. And if either were left to run rampant, well, Star would only end one world. Shadow would consume the entire Spiral.

[save-the-spiral]

Carving Anew

(link to the original post)

I decided to make an addition to my most popular post, with the four additional schools. Content warning for blood mention.

When a star wizard is marked, the bright, sparkling energy of something so bright seems to blind them. Pinpricks of pain rise in a cold, detached fire, widening and filling their vision with nothing but white. When the pain abates into a slight tingling, there will be marks on the apples of their cheeks, stars that glitter, holographic markings on their skin forever. They can grow, with time, and more seemingly erratic or selfish plans pulled off to the benefit of more than themself. They will scatter across their face, varying in sizes and glittering in the sunlight, they will glimmer with strange, eclectic wisdom. They will carry constellations on their faces, amalgamations and dot-to-dots in order to represent their power.

When a sun wizard is marked the sunlight fills their body, warm, warmer, and then burning from the inside out, an instant incineration that leaves them bereft of any breath to scream with. On their back, where the spine tapers off, where their spine dips when they arch, stretching up, towards the heavens, there is a small sun. It shimmers golden, the size of their palm. It radiates warmth, loosening muscles ever tense from the stress the wizard takes upon themself. When they stray from the right path, falling into selfishness and greed, the mark freezes, turning their surrounding skin black and blue with the cold. But if they continue, if they do what is good and right, then the sun expands, gradually, until the circle is as large as their hand, fingers splayed, and the flares of the sun grow ever larger, up and down their spine, circling around their sides and to their hips, more coppery or orange as they grow older.

When a moon wizard is marked, a cool breeze hits them, pushing them around, controlled as the moon controls the tides. They are unsteady on their feet as a strange wet feeling, like a stamp pressed into their skin, hits them on their side. A phase of the moon, clear as day on their skin. The grey of the moon is darker depending on how light the wizard’s skin tone is- the mark wants to shine. As they change more, and accept these changes, on both their sides from their underarms to hips, there are lines depicting the phases of the moon, the full moon at their middle. The texture of the moons themselves are smooth, like touching a stone that had lain in a river bed for centuries. 

When a shadow wizard is marked, they don’t feel it. They don’t notice anything at all. Usually they only learn shadow after already being skilled and powerful enough to be marked from their primary school, and even then, they don’t spend enough time gawking at their mark as if it was new to notice the addition. But it is there, a dark indigo, almost black mark that lines the mark of their primary school. It will continue to spread as long as the wizard still practices and progresses in shadow magic, spiraling out with cut off lines, left in the strange triangle of shadowmancy’s casting sigil. After a while they may start to emanate from a secondary school’s mark, if the wizard manages to get one of those, a rarity. The shadow marks continue, regardless of how they potentially mar the body of the wizard. The shadow always continues on, unending in it’s existence.

So few wizards even know of these schools and their existence. To obtain a marking from them is strange, an alien concept that many scholars would tell you is impossible. A made up school, a made up mark, a waste of time. 

Until the stars burn into your skin and blind you, the sun becomes so cold it freezes your blood in your veins, the moon’s phases cut into the skin, the shadow takes all of those tendrils of darkness on your skin and pulls tight, binding you, stealing your breath away.