I was surprised how close to human I was, here. My mental shape within the Beyond was that of a man made of storms, a thousand droplets swirling together to form a flickering static figure with arms, hands, fingers. In places I was made of rain, bleeding the scent of ozone and a dazzling silver mist, but as the storm coiled through my body on ribbons of wind the raindrops turned to bright green glass, and then morphed again, becoming the deep red sand of the desert.

The ibis sat alongside me, waiting. As long as it was here - as long as Ibis could - the roil of the Beyond was silenced. I could understand the world and shape it to my will.

Flexing my hand I called a little Mana into being and formed a curved sword. I made it out of confidence and glory, a bright dawn-gold blade with a hilt of curled vines. Beautiful, but a weapon I didn’t know how to use.

“Well, how hard can it be. Here I am, oh, near peerless mind, not to brag, and every idiot I’ve ever known has been able to wield to a sword. So it has to be easy.” I said to Ibis, taking a few practice swings. They were not promising.

A strange silence fell over the Beyond.

It was a world of shapeshifting things; the Beyond was full of strange and beautiful trees that became frozen lightning as they ascended towards the sky, and clouds lit up with sunset colors that became curled autumn leaves, grass that was also dancing children.

It all went still. The strange twinned shapes died and left a mundane forest behind, not a blade of grass moving. The color washed out, a wave of grey covering trees and earth and turning them all to the bleak shades of ash. Then the world began to crack and flake as wind rose, a terrible, bitter wind, peeling away thin particles of ash from the grey-plagued trees, dissolving their leaves into sprays of fine soot.

A darkness slithered between the trees. A cloud of teeth advancing on a hundred hands. Ibis cawed his warning and I lifted my hand.

The trees shifted to stop the enemy, joining together.

I was protected by an ash-colored maze, the walls sprouting long thorns. I turned. The darkness was trying to find its way through, coming thundering around the corners of the labyrinth; every time it saw me I would make the walls shift again, rearranging, holding it back.

Other things lived within the maze. There were creatures that were nothing more than burning wheels with mouths where the spokes met, feathered serpents, strange and terrible servants of Arak.

For a moment the stalemate held; the air was thick with swirls to tasteless ash and the tree-walls crashed together, forming a steady, thudding beat as they moved to block the foe.

Then the cloud-beast burst through, clawing its way past my guard and reaching for me. I slashed away fingers, cut at the dark cloud, chopped and hacked with a clumsy desperation. I was no warrior and my blade bought me split seconds - every time it met the dark thing it was burned away until there were fragments of unspun Mana burning in my hands.

I called the river. A wall of water crashed over me and seized the beast, seized all the invaders, throwing them back. From the air around me a ribbon of furious green water expanded out, tearing the ashen wasteland in two.

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There was a cry from beside me, long and bellowing, and Ramses hauled himself up from the waters, shaking his head and making his floppy ears spray off droplets. He grinned a huge grin. “Here I was wondering if you still needed me.”

“Always will, I think.” The world here was nothing but Mana to be shaped. I built new walls. On the banks of the river green I drew up great barriers of marble and laid foundations of unshakable stone. A temple rose, designed in a series of rising courtyards each connected by narrow stairwells, leading towards a single tower that rose towards the sky. Soldiers of stone emerged from the dust with sparking lightning-spears in hand.

For a moment I felt this might be possible.

Then the earth began to shake.

In the far distance a great blaze was building, an orange spill of light, welling up from past the edge of the world. As the last of the trees into dust and my temple stood alone in a field of broken stumps and shifting ash, a hateful red sun rose over the horizon and turned the sky to a sea of blood. Over the sunrise stood Arak's burning crown; the symbol of his conquests towered over the world.

Fire raged against the walls, pouring up in waves of red and gold. Cracks split the foundation. The soldiers crumbled under the onslaught. Climbing upwards came waves of strange and terrible things, so many they seemed like part of the same conjoined whole - a crawling wall of flesh.

I stood at the ramparts and felt a certain stirring urge; the day was dark, the need dire, my defenders valiant as they stood outlined by the sun’s bloody light. I should say something. I should give my soldiers a speech.

“I-” Damn, but the soldiers were my own thoughts. I was giving myself a speech. Bits of my mind telling other bits of my mind how brave they are. “And why shouldn’t I? I’m very brave. The day I was born, a god decided he wanted me dead, and I didn’t blink. Whole worlds on my shoulder, and do I complain?”

Ramses snorted in the background, but I didn’t give him any mind.

“No! Because I am a courageous and heroic sort of thing, and thus deserve a speech! There, that was my speech. You - me - may cheer me on now!”

The soldiers raised their weapons to the air and let out a single deafening cheer as they advanced, shields lifting to meet the onslaught. For a moment they held strong, cutting away limbs, piercing eyes, fighting valiantly as their spears flashed and cracked the air with thunderous noise. But each time they cut a foe to pieces, the broken fragments would reform and become smaller beasts that dragged at their legs and clawed at them from below. There was no killing the enemy, only holding them back.

And one by one, my warriors fell.

In moments the first courtyard was overrun. The last soldiers were pulled down by the tide of bodies, crushed to dust. I was powerful here, yes. I could do so much with the sea of Mana around me, with this mental space unlimited by physical laws.

But the enemy was even stronger. As I lifted my hand to call up more defenses and build my fortress higher, Ibis let out a croak of warning, and I felt a sudden sense of vertigo wrack my soul.

The Mana in the air escaped my grasp as my view of the world split; I now saw not only my temple under siege, but a forest in flames. Two visions of the same event. Ibis’ strength was fading. Another sickening moment of existential dread and my vision split once more. Now I saw a sea being devoured by a single goliath whale. All three visions swum together in a bleary, sickening tangle.

I lifted my hands to create more soldiers, but nothing came. When I tried to move the Mana within one of the three conceptual spaces, I had to move it within the others as well or nothing would form. To make a soldier in my temple, I needed to call up a beast in the forest, a ship in the sea. The mental strain would grow with each splinter.

This was a losing battle.