-=-=-=-=-=-
Djinn - 06 - Re-creation
-=-=-=-=-=-
I cartwheeled through technicolour space until my domain became visible. What was left of my domain. The vast gardens had crumbled into the void and nothing but a thin strip of green surrounded the manor. Touching down lightly by the oversized front door, I was greeted by Jeeves, the butler I had created.
“Welcome back, Master West,” he said, closing the door after me. “I’m afraid I’ve had to dismiss the groundskeepers.”
“I want to soak for awhile, Jeeves. Please send food and drink.”
“As you wish.”
The manor was missing many of the artworks I had recreated over the years, leaving the walls barren and entire rooms empty. I made my way to the master suite in the west wing and crawled into the hot tub where I soaked up mana like a sponge. Heaving a deep sigh, I closed my eyes and relaxed.
Cracking open an eye as the water was disturbed, I watched as Dinah and Kim lowered themselves into the mana-infused pool with me. I had created them early on in my building phase and was glad to see they were still around. They were my favourites, simulated from separate encounters at a local pub that went swimmingly well. Dinah offered me a bit of sliced mango while Kim held a glass of cool amber beer for me.
It was good to be the king.
Some hours later I retired into the bedroom, feeling less fatigued. After some frolicsome fun, I fell into a deep sleep, where I dreamed the world had been afflicted with a plague and I couldn’t leave my house. I would wander the rooms like a ghost, immaterial and inconsequential, bored and restless. I began working on a small project to keep me occupied while quarantined, building a small world from a dream within a dream. Then as suddenly as it happened, the quarantine was lifted and I was called back to work. I looked at my project and wondered if it would remain unfinished. Shrugging, I made a mental promise to tend it as time allowed and crawled up from the depths of my slumber.
Rising from the bed, I creaked and groaned like an old man, then stretched and went hunting coffee and biscuits. Some time later I felt more Djinn and less human. I had been a bit naive in my first construction, building entirely out of magic. The second construction of my domain was better, but I still lacked a proper education in the consequences of wish-granting on my prison. I debated on the merits of reconstructing everything and decided that if nothing else, the practise would be useful in the mortal realms. Popping my fingers, I began rebuilding.
First, I constructed a firmament. Drawing Kufic glyphs in the void, I channeled magic into them and created a jagged half-sphere of rock a kilometre across and covered it with rolling hills of clay, sandy subsoil, and finally a layer of dark, fertile soil. Crossing top of the firmament, I created a large depression, excavating a chamber deep in the centre, and burrowed out a thousand branching channels that ran through the rocky construction and exited underneath and along the sides. Flying back into the void, I located each hole and crafted a gargoyle, imbuing them with wards to strengthen the firmament against the destructive effects of the void.
Next, a wall surrounding the edge of the firmament, separating my space from the technicolour void. I crafted each stone by hand, drawing each Kufic glyph in the void and bringing a huge blocks into being which were lowered into place with a thought. Once I had enclosed my demesne in 30 metre walls, crenellations and towers were added, along with runes that would project a dome over the firmament and give illusion to day and night, sun and moon, spring rains and autumn fogs. Inside the barren enclosure, I rested. It looked a lot smaller once the walls were in place and I wondered if I should have dreamed bigger, created something more suitable for a being like me that could bend reality on a whim and destroy with a thought. I daydreamed for a moment and shook my head. A prison is a prison, and this one whispered promises of cosmic power in exchange for servitude.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
None of this is permanent, only a means to move power more efficiently so I could use it in the mortal realms.
A maze of script was carved on the outside of the walls and towers, transforming the void into magic, mana, that I could use productively. Tiny rivulets of pure mana collected in the channels, ran through the walls, and exited spouts where it fell as crystal clear water that meandered towards the depression in the centre of my creation. I watched as the gravity and physics I had created took control of the mana-water, cutting into the topsoil as the new streams ran towards the centre and began to fill the lake I crafted. Rising above the firmament, I looked down and observed the organic development of the streams as they crossed the newly created land. A quick flight around the perimeter and I saw the gargoyles were spouting the water back into the void where it formed a misty caul around my domain.
More runes, more glyphs, and then statues and fountains appeared in strategic locations to gather mana from the flow of the water and convert it into forces that would shore up my dominion and keep it safe from dissolution. I dove into the small lake and floated, pulling in purified power and strengthening my essence. Drawing complex glyphs in the air, I created verdant grasses, trees and bushes, summoned life into the streams and surrounding land. Overhead, a hawk cried out against the clear blue sky, lonely and hunting for his mate. Rising, floating above the water, I surveyed my creation and a fierce sense of possession filled me as I envisioned a new manor and smaller housing for the servants, maybe some farms along the walls and a little township where they would gather in the evenings.
Intoxicated with power, more runes brought stacks of marble and granite, fine lumber and metals into existence. Workshops were created and servants to carry out my desires, I drafted plans with a thought and watched as simulated people crafted from my imagination carried out my wishes. Days passed and my vision took shape, built by simulacra and enforced by my will. Stone roads appeared, little cottages, farms grew magical foods nourished by the purified and infused water that flowed through my creation. Materials would run short and I would create more in the void and bring them back to my island of stability.
Weeks went by, measured by the passage of my sun and moon, and I lost myself in direction and organisation, enjoying the instant gratification of my new realms and adding more definition and fine detail as I sought to build a self-contained sanctuary where things were crafted from magic and not created by magic. My little village grew and flourished, guided by the hand of their benevolent god.
* DOOOOOONNG *
A bell tolled, filling creation with overpowering compulsion. My manacles flared bright, burning me as I was summoned into the mortal realms.
I appeared in sulphurous smoke, snarling, infuriated that I had been pulled away from my domain. Those accursed words formed on my lips and I bit them back, choking on them until they were vomited unwilling.
“What is your bidding, Master.”
A bloodied man sprawled against the wall before me, blonde hair matted with blood that ran from a nasty scalp wound and into his eyes. His suit was rumpled and torn, like someone had used it to swing him around a few times before the expensive fabric ripped and hurled him into the wall. He clutched the lamp to his chest in a hand that was obviously broken.
He pointed a shaking finger behind me. “Kill him!”
Turning, I saw Paul fighting desperately against a larger opponent.
-=-=-=-=-=-
S: 25apr202
F: 26apr2020
W: 1365
-=-=-=-=-=-