14 Chapter 14: The Hermit
Saturday late afternoon. Duncan sat in a taxi as it sped through New York City's streets. Outside, it was pouring heavily, and Duncan could see the wind pushing the raindrops against his window, making a distinct pattern on them. He was in lower Manhattan at the time, and he could see the tightly built apartments on the side of the highways, the jazz cafés, the restaurants, and the NYU flag, which was barely flapping around.
Greenwich Village, notably Bleecker Street, was his destination. He definitely didn't ask Paul to take him there because it was a very sensitive location.
The Apocryphon was in Duncan's hands while he waited to arrive at his destination. He was going over the entries that had appeared since his last check.
He began by turning to the new page, the Chariot Arcana. He could see a valiant warrior standing proudly inside a moon-carved chariot, and the card was numbered "VII" on the roman numeral.
He examined the first and only entry beneath it.
[I: Thou hast made a vow with the Arcana of Chariot. Thy strength has become aberrant in comparison to thy frailty.]
"So that's why…" Duncan muttered something. Ever since that tryout, Duncan had broken a lot of things accidentally, which brought him a lot of trouble back at home.
"You okay back there?" questioned the taxi driver suddenly, as he heard Duncan murmuring to himself.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Duncan said, and the taxi driver dropped it.
He then turned to the page of the Death Arcana. There are now two entries showing on the page, the second of which is new.
[II: Thou hast made the lady recognize what she truly feels. Thou art now able to reveal the secrets of the dead.]
Duncan grimaced at the entry's language. The phrase "the lady" reappeared. The only thing that Duncan had said was to Miss Lang, so that means "the lady" is her.
But just who is "the lady"?
Duncan went into deep thought—perhaps because it is the tarot card of death, it's Lady Death? He doesn't know much about the entity, but the likelihood of Miss Lang being her is strong.
But why?
Why does she want to meet him? Is it because Duncan had died before?
What is she going to do to him? return him to the domain of death in this reality?
Duncan couldn't help but shiver at the thought. What could he do if Death herself wanted him back in her realm? Fight her? Duncan was overcome with existential dread as a result of that notion.
Maybe he was overthinking it. If she had wanted to bring him into her domain, she would have done it weeks, if not years ago. But, if that's the case, what exactly does she desire?
His thoughts were interrupted as the cab that was transporting him abruptly came to a halt. He looked around; it was still raining outside, but he seemed to have arrived at his destination.
"There you have it, kid. 177A Bleecker Street," said the taxi driver. "That'll cost you $30."
"Here." Duncan handed the man a fifty-dollar bill. "Keep the change."
The boy hastily exited the taxi while opening an umbrella he had brought with him. He gazed at the structure in front of him; he noticed the distinctive design of the window above the building, and he realized it had to be the New York Sanctum.
He climbed the stairs to the sanctum's door, staying out of the rain as soon as he was protected by the roof. He closed his umbrella and looked at the side bell. He was about to press it when the door unexpectedly opened, raising Duncan's brow.
When the boy entered, he was met by a cluster of watchful sorcerers. They'd already raised their eldritch shields, as though ready to fight.
"Hello?" Duncan addressed the alert sorcerers. There was no answer; it even made them more alert. "Um, I'm here to train as a sorcerer; is this a bad time to show up?"
"As a matter of fact, it is a bad time, Mr. Plagmann." A woman's voice could be heard upstairs. When he looked up, he saw a bald woman clad in yellow robes.
She was going calmly across the floor, hands on her back. Finally, she raised her hand and stood in the middle of the large stairs in front of Duncan.
The vigilant sorcerers unsummoned their shields and strolled away from the area as if nothing had happened. It was an unusual sight for Duncan; it was certainly not normal.
"Recently, one of my students rebelled against the order," said the bald woman upstairs. "So we apologize for the rather intense customer service."
"Um, okay..." Duncan murmured.
The bald woman moved gently down the steps, never losing sight of Duncan. "Mr. Plagmann, I sensed the power of a foreign dimension within you; do you know what it is?"
Duncan examined the jewelry that hung around the woman's neck. It appeared to be an eye, and he is certain he knows what it is. "I have an idea of what it is, but I don't know what its name is. Don't you already know that? Because you already know my name and have most likely been keeping an eye on me since I was born."
The bald lady hummed. "Mr. Plagmann, you are correct. It was an unavoidable precaution. We, the Masters of the Mystical Arts, were tasked with protecting reality itself from an unknown foreign power that had abruptly infiltrated our domain. As a result, your situation needs to be thoroughly investigated."
"Which means you probably thought I was harmless." Duncan stated this. "After all, I'm still here and alive."
The bald woman gave the boy a feeble smile. "Not quite."
The bald woman stood in front of Duncan, examining him from top to bottom. "You wish to learn magic?"
"Yes," Duncan stated clearly. "But I can't stay here the whole time; I've got normal school too, you know?"
"Magic cannot be learned with simply mediocre effort, Mr. Plagmann," said the bald woman.
"Well, I can't skip school, can't I?" Duncan made an uneasy chuckle. "My mum would be furious. So can you make an exception?"
"I'm afraid we won't be able to, Mr. Plagmann," the bald woman stated, raising Duncan's brow. "You must remain in our establishment."
"Well, I guess I'll find another place to study it." Duncan muttered something. He moved his gaze away from the bald woman and toward the entrance.
He was walking when he heard the bald woman speak again.
"Knowledge is not free, Mr. Plagmann." The woman went on. "One of the reasons that the students of the mystic arts stay at our establishment is because not only could they dedicate more of their time to learning, but they would also be ready at all times when their knowledge was needed. What will you offer if you don't stay? Will you merely request that we teach you magic and we receive nothing in return?"
Duncan turned around to face the woman. "Is this what you want the whole time? to obtain something from me?"
"Certainly not, Mr. Plagmann," said the bald woman. "I'm asking you what kind of tuition fee you will pay us.
Duncan shrugged, taken aback by the statement. "I don't know, money?"
"How much?" inquired the bald woman.
"I'm not sure, how much do you want?" Duncan responded, perplexed by the direction of the conversation.
"Four thousand dollars every six months," the bald woman stated flatly. "And every Sunday, I will personally tutor you."
"Well that's cheap… But okay, I'll set aside some of my allowance for that." Duncan was still perplexed. "You must have something else in mind besides money to tutor me personally."
"Perhaps," the woman responded calmly. "I suppose you'll have to figure it out for yourself, Mr. Plagmann."
Duncan was annoyed by the woman in front of him, but all he could do was sigh; at the very least, she was definitely interested in his abilities. "All right, deal."
Suddenly, Duncan's world darkened, and a feminine voice repeated in his head.
[I am Thou, Thou Art I…]
[...Thou hast acquired a new vow…]
[...It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity…]
[...With the birth of the Hermit Arcana, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall guide thee to freedom and new power…]
When the voice stopped speaking, the world returned to normal, and Duncan could see the woman upstairs once more.
"Follow me, Mr. Plagmann," she added as she walked on.
"What about the payment?" Duncan inquired as he ascended the stairs.
"You may bring it next week," the woman replied. "Alternatively, you can ask one of the staff downstairs for the order's bank account and transfer it there. Just make sure to bring the receipt with you."
"The order have a bank account?" Duncan lifted an eyebrow.
"Mr. Plagmann, we're not savages. Modern times require modern solutions," said the woman flatly, before entering a room filled with shelves of books.
—
Duncan was now sitting face to face in front of the woman. She had introduced herself as the Ancient One, Duncan tried to ask what her actual name is, but she didn't answer.
The woman was now staring at him, her hands on her thighs.
"Before we begin. First, you must learn about what's within you." the Ancient One said. "Do you know what kind of power dwells within you, Duncan?"
He noticed that she doesn't call him by his last name anymore. "I do, to a certain extent."
The Ancient One hummed. She suddenly snapped her finger, and Duncan could see an illusion that depicted two different colors, white and black, and a blue line separating them.
"In the vast and infinite multiverse, an almost absolute concept exists." she said. "In almost every universe there exists consciousness of a being. Whether that being is a god, a living entity, or a mere human being like us, there will always be consciousness. And the source of it all, is the realm of consciousness, where all being's thoughts and feelings were gathered."
The Ancient One pointed at the white area of the illusion.
"The opposite of it, also exists another concept. The concept of unconsciousness, the concept of dreams. Where all dreams and nightmares of living beings were gathered."
She pointed at the black area of the illusion.
"Then what's in the middle?" Duncan asked, pointing at the blue line.
The woman smiled softly at the boy. "These two concepts sometimes overlap with each other. A conscious thought, a living nightmare, all those gathered on this blue line. And this is where your power came from, Duncan."
Duncan was quite surprised at the information. "And what is its name?"
"It has many names, but they are all forgotten." she said. "This overlap of two concepts is hard to study, even us sorcerers do not know much about it. But, by the few who does, they often called it 'the border in between', 'the rift between consciousness and unconsciousness of all souls', 'the butterfly dream', or—"
"The Velvet room..." Duncan unconsciously said.
The Ancient One raised her brow. "So you do know about it."
"A little bit." Duncan merely answers.
The Ancient just stared at Duncan for a few seconds, before standing again. She walked towards the window near her, and looked through it.
"That is all I can teach you about yourself, Duncan." she said. "The rest must be studied by yourself."
"I… Understand…" Duncan nodded.
The Ancient One then turned towards the boy, and smiled. "Well then, let's get started with the lesson, shall we?"
