Assuming the guise of the farmer, I sensed the fabric of space begin to fray, a clear indication of my unwelcome intrusion.
Snap, crackle, snap! A small crack in the world appears
With determination, I resisted the cosmic currents, striving to mend the ruptures and restore balance to the celestial realm.
The void resonated with a strong atmosphere, its disapproval evident as I breached the boundaries of mortal existence. My omnipotence strained against the confines, seeking escape from this mortal guise.
Snap, crackle, snap, snap! This time a large crack appeared
Nevertheless, undaunted, I persevered, summoning my determination to impart a steadfast message to the celestial forces overseeing existence. Employing both hands, I sealed the crack shut.
"I choose to dwell among mortals," I declared, my voice echoing through the void and reverberating across the trembling planet below. Although no one could hear it, I spoke directly to the void.
The world quaked in response, its inhabitants recoiling in fear as the very fabric of reality seemed to tremble at my audacious proclamation.
But I refused to yield, pressing on with my plea, determined to break free from the bindings of divine command.
"I reject the constraints of your authority," I asserted, my words cutting through the silence like a blade.
Gradually, the tumult subsided, replaced by an eerie calm as space settled back into its natural order.
In that moment, I sensed a profound shift within me, a liberation from the weight of omniscience as I relinquished my divine essence to the void.
Though my omnipotence returned to the cosmic expanse, I remained tethered to this mortal vessel, conscious and alive, a mere mortal among mortals.
Then I felt new sensations.
Surveying my physical form, I noticed sweat trickling down my brow, and my hands roughened by labor. The earthy scent of soil filled my nostrils, and the gentle caress of sunlight warmed my skin. I am Immersed in these new sensations.
They are hard to describe with words.
In my grasp, I held the weighty axe, its handle worn from use. With practiced precision, I lifted it, feeling its heft. I instinctively directed my gaze toward the piece of wood at my feet. In a fluid motion, I swung the axe downward, the repetitive action flowing like a familiar melody.
Memories, not mine, but also mine, flowed in my conscious, remembrance of my here on this planet. In those recollections, I inhabited the life of a 20-year-old man hailing from humble origins. My family, predominantly comprised of loggers and farmers, had faced displacement during the turmoil of war, leading to our separation amid the chaos wrought by the Fenian's devastation of our homeland.
As the wood splintered under the force of my blow, I observed its fracture with keen interest. Splinters scattered around me, echoing the impact. Each strike left its mark on the chopping block below, a testament to my labor.
Fenian's?" I had no understanding of their nature or purpose, yet the mere mention of the word ignited a surge of animosity within me. I harbored an intense desire to eradicate them.
Seeking refuge and a semblance of stability from the war, I found employment as a caretaker of a wealthy tradesman's estate, tasked with tending to his land and crops.
And so I chopped for hours on end, until I ran out of logs. I indulged in all that I remembered.
It was only after that I became aware of my surroundings—a sprawling expanse of rice fields enveloped me. On the distant horizon, majestic mountain peaks adorned with snow loomed, while amidst the fields, a narrow path snaked its way forward. Clearly marked by the imprints of wheels that had traversed it, the path remained devoid of vegetation.
Casting my gaze skyward, I beheld a luminous star, its brilliance so intense that I could scarcely bear to look directly at it.
I looked below at my work - the finely cut pieces of log. I picked them up in a sack and dragged them over to an enclosure near my residence.
My dwelling was simple—a small wooden cabin nestled in the tranquil countryside. Its weathered exterior bore the marks of time, yet exuded a humble charm that blended harmoniously with the surrounding landscape.
Inside, the cabin offered a cozy refuge from the outside world. A crackling hearth provided warmth and served as the heart of the living space, while modest furnishings, including a worn armchair and a sturdy wooden table, added to its homely appeal. A small bed tucked into a corner.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting gentle beams across the rough-hewn walls and illuminating the simple beauty of the interior. Beyond the confines of the cabin, a quaint porch provided a vantage point overlooking the vast expanse of rice fields.
In this cabin - I felt some form of familiarity. Was this perhaps because I took the form of this man as well?
Beside my bedside, there lay my instrument, my cherished possession. A grin spread across my face.
"This sensation – the sense of contentment that arises from gazing upon this instrument, it draws me inexorably towards it."
Approaching it, I examined it closely, my eyes tracing its contours from top to bottom. Some of the strings appeared taut, their tension evident in their sharpness.
Running my fingers over the instrument's surface, I acquainted myself with its graceful form. Then, as if guided by an innate understanding, I commenced playing, my fingers moving in a rhythmic pattern.
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A melody emerged, accompanied by the words that flowed effortlessly from my lips, resonating with a masculine yet soothing timbre.
In the realm of ancient myths, where time and space entwine,
A god once bound by chains, now breaks free, divine.
From the depths of the darkest night, to the dawn's first gleam,
He rises up with newfound might, from an -----------------
I halted my playing as a heavy rumbling reached my ears, signaling the approach of something substantial near my dwelling – a familiar sound.
"Alfie! Look what I've brought for you!" A voice called out, prompting me to set aside my instrument and push open the door, inadvertently striking something in the process.
"Ouch!" cried out a man dressed in fine attire, though he wasn't quite old, his hair thick, and his beard fairly full. He rubbed his head where the door had struck him.
Arthur? That name came to mind as I observed him. From my memories.
Behind him stood a large wagon laden with various empty boxes and crates, while a lantern hung from one side. Two imposing black horses were harnessed to the front, patiently awaiting their master's commands.
Once recovered, the man met my gaze with an exuberant smile. "Speechless to see me so soon, are ya?" he exclaimed, moving to the back of the wagon to retrieve a sizable book.
Presenting it to me with anticipation, I accepted the book and examined its cover.
"The Primer of Enchantment: Guide to Magic," it read.
I flipped over the book, reading the synopsis:
"The Primer of Enchantment: Guide to Magic:" lays the groundwork for aspiring practitioners venturing into the realm of magic. Within the pages of this timeless tome, novices will discover the fundamental principles and essential practices that form the cornerstone of magical arts.
Written with clarity and precision, this first edition serves as a comprehensive introduction to the multifaceted world of magic. From deciphering the enigmatic language of incantations to harnessing the elemental forces, each chapter offers invaluable insights and practical instructions designed to guide fledgling enchanters along their mystical journey.
Arthur's grin widened as he observed my reaction, clearly amused by my bewilderment.
"Hehe, seems you're at a loss for words!" he chuckled heartily, clutching his stomach before regaining his composure. "I knew you were a bit tipsy that night!"
"When you drunkenly boasted about fending off those pesky deer with magic, I knew I had to put your claim to the test!" Arthur exclaimed, his laughter echoing through the air.
He headed to the rear of his wagon, gathering various items, then glanced over at me. "Could you give me a hand?" he asked.
I acknowledged with a nod and carefully rested the book on the cabin railing before joining him at the rear of the wagon. There, I discovered mostly vacant boxes, with a few partially filled ones emitting a soft clinking sound as I lifted them, suggesting they may have held some valuable items.
As we loaded the boxes into the cabin, Arthur struck up a conversation. "Did you feel that tremor earlier?" he inquired, his expression puzzled as he lifted another box.
"Yes, I did. It was brief, but I'm not entirely sure what caused it," I responded nonchalantly.
Of course, I knew he was referring to the seismic disturbance caused by my recent interaction with the fabric, albeit indirectly. The fabric never responds—it's more of a one-sided conversation.
One of the horses neighed, appearing agitated. Arthur approached it and offered a comforting pat on its back. "There, there, boy. I'll let you roam free soon enough," he reassured, as he detached the horse from the carriage.
Magi—such a powerful name resonates within the memories I now inhabit. Although I don't fully comprehend their nature, I sense the importance of treating them with caution and utmost respect.
Yet within my thoughts lingered a doubt, a fear that I, as a mortal, could never rival a Magi. How could I?
But these doubts were not my own; they belonged to Alfie. A young man, who had taken to safety after seeing devastation, he was shaken up from the destruction around his homeland. Losing family, friends, and everything you knew, he fled to safety, working here on this farm, a remote land where
As the mortal I've become - Alfie - I've assumed command over your body and consciousness. Our memories have intertwined. For you, I owe it to at least push the limits of what your body and mind can achieve.
Glancing back at the book resting atop the cabin entrance, I pondered aloud, "Arthur, do you think I could become a Magi?"
A chuckle escaped Arthur's lips in response to my question. "Who am I to say you can't?" he replied, his gaze following mine to the book. "Life is full of surprises. I've certainly exhausted all my luck," he remarked, reflecting on his own journey. "Who would've thought I'd spend my days peddling trinkets to fine ladies? Yet, oddly enough, I've found great joy in it, traversing the roads and all."
Our eyes met, and Arthur's tone turned encouraging. "You're young, Alfie, and you possess what I lack: time," he said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Take risks. The world is yours for the taking. What have you got to lose? You've already endured so much through the ravages of war," he added with a familiar grin.
Then he added, "And besides, you sing and play beautifully. Come on, all this traveling has stiffened my joints. I need to hear you sing."
Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around him in a warm embrace. At that moment, a thought crossed my mind—I have you, Arthur. You've provided me shelter and solace in the wake of my family's loss, offering me a temporary distraction from my loss through labor.
But these were also not my thoughts. I was not Alfie, yet in this moment, I was him. It was confusing. At that moment, I fully accepted all of this mortal's memories as my own, and I felt some excitement in our uncertain future.
That night, Arthur and I shared hearty laughter over drinks. I prepared some hidden meat for the occasion, which we enjoyed while sipping and joking. It was a brief respite from the burdens of our daily lives. That night, I experienced a sense of camaraderie with this mortal, as if he were a true friend—the first of its kind.
In a drunken stupor, I serenaded the night away, while Arthur indulged in his drinks, listening to the same song he had previously interrupted.
In the realm of ancient myths, where time and space entwine,
A god once bound by chains, now breaks free, divine.
From the depths of the darkest night, to the dawn's first gleam,
He rises up with newfound might, from an age-old dream.
Shackles shattered, spirit soaring high,
The heavens echo with his triumphant cry.
A god unchained, free to roam and soar,
Infinite possibilities, forevermore.
----- End of Chapter 1 -Alfie -----
In the vast expanse of the void, where nothingness reigns, lies the infinite potential for creation and transformation.
Alfie Solomons
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Arthur Mulligan
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