ItsNeosundae

Neo Delcour was just a normal person with an affinity for magic. Growing up in Parfaitia was idyllic, where food became craft and hospitality became culture. In school, Neo took up a specialist degree: Dessert Magic. It seemed delightful, but the craft was complex. Most traditionalists brushed it off. The bakeries’ pyromancers and the cryomancers who crafted ice sculptures found Neo's magic to be too whimsical and not at all utilitarian.

But the king saw something in them. A spark of potential. They were brought to court to serve as a mage under the Chief Confectioner, putting their magic to good use as they crafted sweets for visiting nobles and serving diplomats. Seeing how well people seemed to receive Neo, the king allowed them to serve in the diplomatic delegation. Neo traveled the world, from their close neighbors of Dagashi and The Minterlands, to Sylvania in the far west, always accompanied by the Spire of the Bittersweet, a pirouline staff that Neo had won as the grand prize in a fancy claw machine that just so happened to be a one of a kind rare artifact.

One day, before the delegation was meant to travel to another country, Neo was perusing the archives to prepare themself for the journey. They stumbled across a book they'd never seen before - without a title on its spine nor cover. The clothbound book was substantial, but not heavy for some reason. Curious, they opened the book only to discover blank pages.

Until black ink coalesced on the page. “NEO DELCOUR.” Their own name emblazoned the spread pages in a handwriting not their own. “H-hello?” they said hesitantly. “Can you…hear?” The ink rippled, changed. “I HAVE WHAT YOU SEEK.” “....You have the provisions records for the fourth Minterlands-Sylvanian conflict of the third century?” “NO. YOU SEEK TO KNOW A MAGIC LOST TO TIME. I CAN PROVIDE YOU THE WAY TO BE MORE THAN JUST A CONJURER OF CHEAP SWEETS.”

“I'll have you know my sweets aren't cheap, you… you–” Neo faltered. How the hell do you insult a talking book? “GRIMOIRE,” the ink supplied helpfully. “You sentient grimoire! What do you know, you're a book! Even if you CAN talk!” Neo fought the urge to slap a palm to their face. Truly an inspired insult. “ELDRITCH BEINGS EXIST IN MANY FORMS, MORTAL.” “I'm not closeminded, thank you very much! I take offense to that!”

“I OFFER YOU A PACT, DELCOUR. IF YOU WISH IT. THE FORBIDDEN SUGAR SPELLS AND KNOWLEDGE OF INFUSIONS COULD BE YOURS.” “...well…people would take me seriously…” “MORE THAN JUST THAT. YOU COULD DO GOOD WITH IT. NOT JUST DELIGHT PEOPLE. IS THAT NOT YOUR PURPOSE?” “...I mean… I'd like to do good things. What would you want in exchange? I don't think I have much to offer an eldritch being…”

“I WILL GIVE YOU THE KNOWLEDGE. WITH TWO CONDITIONS.” The pages turned. “THE PACT REQUIRES A PIECE OF YOUR SOUL. AND I REQUIRE YOUR PRESENCE.” “Presence?” Neo asked, frowning and tilting their head. “What does that mean, exactly?” The book was silent for a long moment, the words melting and reforming once more. “I SHALL ACCOMPANY YOU. AS WITNESS.” “Witness to…what, exactly?” they responded, their expression one of curiosity tempered by fear of the unknown. “TO YOUR DEEDS. YOU WILL BE BEHOLDEN TO ME, LITTLE SPARK.”

“...do I have to hurt people?” Neo asked. The book’s pages flapped in an unfelt wind, as if shrugging. “THERE MAY COME A TIME WHEN THAT IS NECESSARY. BUT NOT BECAUSE I COMMAND IT. YOU WILL BE MY VESSEL IN THIS REALM, FREE IN WILL BUT IN SERVICE TO MY ENDS.” “...Well.” Neo was silent for a long time before they nodded. “A-alright. I'll do it, ‘Moire.” “THE PACT IS STRUCK– WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?”

“Moire. Do you…not like it? I know that eldritch names are really hard to pronounce and I'm not that great with dipthongs, but if you want to sound it out slowly, I could note it in IPA–” “MOIRE IS FINE, LITTLE SPARK.” With that (and one very weird ritual incantation), their journey together began. During one vacation in a faraway land, Neo came across a magical portal. Moire told them they'd found the Nougat Nexus, a portal connecting all of the Neo-souls across the multiverse. Neo caught a glimpse of someone. Same hair, same eyes, but different presence, different outfit. “THE WARLOCK MEETS THE MAGE.” This Neo was dressed in a fine gown adorned with roses. “ONE OF MANY.” Another Neo's voice drifted through the glowing pink portal: “Did you guys know I got the word ship into the Oxford English Dictionary?!?!?!”

--The End….or is it just the beginning?--