Airrick is seated in a room filled floor to ceiling with books. Books stacked on books, on tables, shelves overflowing with books. All of the knowledge that has ever existed is in this room, he knows this to be certain, somehow. He reads from a tome, not quite understanding the language, but somehow knowing what is being conveyed anyway. He hears a voice in his head, a booming voice that conveys authority and wisdom. The voice says to him ‘The head and the heart cannot be separated. Your thoughts and your feelings cannot be untangled from one another; they are joined. You must heal the wound you carry. Or your head, too, will calcify and become a petrified lump. Stop thinking so much. Start acting without so much thought. Practice being impulsive! Act from joy, or sorrow, or anything but fear. I’m giving you a blessing, Airrick. I’m blessing you with a headache whenever you overthink. My cudgel is merciful. May your heart begin to heal’. He will see the image of himself being hit over the head with a cudgel, but the cudgel is somehow also conveying love and support. The cudgel hurts, a sharp cracking pain behind his eyes… but it also leaves with it a reminder that this is his work, and he must do it, for his own healing and growth. The pain, the blow to his head by the Mighty Cudgel, feels somehow strangely supportive.
Airrick also now has the ability to read any language, but he cannot write it in. The words he reads somehow convey thoughts and concepts to him without his actually reading them. Further, he can decode any coded written text, glyphs, picture, etc.
He can also understand any spoken language, but not speak them. The language must be a formal spoken language, so things like animal and plant communication are still a mystery to him