There is something to be said for the feeling of coming home. That distinct sensation of something familiar after a deluge of strange, new sensations. So, as my soul broke into the Astral, an overwhelming sense of nostalgia washed over my consciousness. I’d briefly entered the Astral during the creation of my Astral Doman after absorbing the soul of Elijah Daniels; however, I hadn’t gotten the chance to truly absorb the distinct feeling of my native sector. My feelings were amplified by my two-decade-long stay within the Akashic Records in a foreign sector.

I stood in the exact center of my Astral Domain and basked the familiar resonance of my home. Sadly, the pleasant feelings didn’t last long. Past the familiarity, I felt the foreign emanations of astral beings within the sector against the barrier of my domain. Shadowy mana and akasha dominated the majority of what I felt. Given the presence of the two Aspects, I wasn’t surprised, but knowing that strangers had moved into one’s childhood home and seeing their presence in the places where old memories lay were two very different things.

A spark of rage ignited as memories of the sector filled with Libbu’s mana flitted through my mind. Like an animal, the sudden and irrevocable need to declare my dominion over the sector warred with my will for control. There were invaders in my home. I didn’t need any direct sight of my surroundings outside of my domain to know that the foreign entities had claimed parts of our sector as their own. That I could sense their mana so clearly was proof enough since the sector had been bereft of ambient mana thanks to my tight control and Libbu’s absence.

The anger mixed with cold calculation and a malicious plan was born. I set the scheme aside for the moment as I gathered my wits. It's funny that in preserving my righteous anger, I never noticed the deep sentimentality at its root.

I looked below my position at the center of my domain at the immense matric of psykhe generation created when I assimilated the sorcerer’s soul. This was the key component of my ritual. As I watched, thin streams of soul-stuff flowed into my soul and through my soul, into my Astral Domain where the matrix converted it to psykhe. The modified Astral Gate at the center of my soul whirred with activity as it facilitated the transfer.

As the soul-stuff was converted, I saw and felt memories and emotions from those whose souls I leeched. They came one after another like a psychic staccato blurring together as the essence containing them was stripped to its fundamental components.

I tasted my grandmother’s chocolate chip cookies for the last time before she passed away. I had to watch the Shadow’s corruption slowly crawl across her body; all the while, the Stigmata on her navel, a disjointed three-eyed skull, laughed silently.

My mother held my hand at my first Hunt with the pack. I saw Ms. Ruby transform before my eyes and almost cried as her old bones cracked and twisted. Mother laughed when I hid behind her assuring me that all was well.

Morgana read the reports aloud for everyone to hear leaving a palpable dread in the air. The Aristocracy had declared war on the U.S. government. Illinois and Missouri had already been taken with skirmishes breaking out in Kentucky. If Kentucky fell, it wouldn’t be long before Tennessee became a warzone and as I looked at my pregnant wife, I knew I’d do anything to prevent that.

I filtered out the stream of welling consciousness assailing my mind. Some of the memories contained interesting information, but I needed all of my focus for the task at hand. Once the first wisps of psykhe drifted from the matrix, I began construction. I started with a type of structure that I had spent hundreds of years optimizing in the early days of human civilization— concealment.

With the entrenchment of foreign astral beings within the sector, hiding my Astral Domain would be far more important than ever before. I could only imagine how many human practitioners had unwittingly ended up as sustenance for these invaders during the Shadow’s Passing and the years that followed because they were acclimated to a sector devoid of activity.

The opaque barrier around my domain gained an iridescent sheen as the simple structures that added to the whole took shape, braided into the threshold so seamlessly that only the most discerning eyes could mark them as additions instead of part of the original. I noticed that the process took a much shorter time than it should have. Inspecting the final product, I almost missed the layer of gloom hidden within my psykhe. The discovery triggered a sharp rise in my anxiety causing me to analyze the psykhe being produced by the matrix.

Mymana contained traces of Truth relating to death, darkness, and the mind as well as slightly deeper Truths of the soul and life. The new aspects of my mana were integrated so well that I began to question whether I had made these alterations or if something else was responsible. A moment later, I banished the insidious thoughts.

No, this… this must be the result of my covenants with the Akashic Records and the Crawling Shadow. I deducted after a short period of reflection. Until the appearance of the Crawling Shadow, my soul bindings consisted of only lesser connections such as pacts. I made the three covenants during the Shadow’s Passing to ensure an optimal future, or at least, the chance of one, for myself and Libbu, and while I knew the theoretical repercussions of forging such impactful connections, I didn’t have the practical experience needed for true comprehension. I never thought the influence of a covenant would affect the very composition of my mana… It must be because the Aspects are so much more powerful than I was when the covenant was forged, even more so now. On that note, is the influence dynamic? And am I less resistant in this weakened state?

I paused as doubts chipped at my resolve to continue the ritual. If psykhe had incorporated aspects of akasha and the Crawling Shadow’s mana, then could those shared Truths be used to manipulate my mana and by extension, my structures? Normally, the answer would be a hard no since although Truths were the most fundamental building blocks of mana, structures and manipulation acted from the top down. Tapping into the Truths of any form of mana required a profound mastery of every compositional aspect of said mana because one would need to delve deep enough to even interact with those Truths. It sounds simple, but it was not in the slightest.

In my first meeting with Akasha, I demonstrated the ability to manipulate Concepts, and with much difficulty Truths as well; however, I could only do so because of my understanding of pure mana— an understanding that even Akasha seemed to lack. Sadly, the Aspects represented a level of power and ability that I hadn’t even begun to grasp.

Still, I passed the Akashic Records’ examination of my records, so my chances of fulfilling my covenant with the Crawling Shadow are relatively high. That would’ve included the changes made by the Shadow… Perhaps…

“These changes could be key to your success rather than a blade in the dark,” said a feminine voice.

A dark veil formed beside me and the silhouette of soft features showed beneath it. The owner of the voice revealed herself as the dark, ethereal fabric lifted. Libbu, or rather the specter wearing her visage, hadn’t changed much since I last had a vision of her. Sallow flesh hugged otherwise smooth features and black eyes beheld my soul with an intense mixture of emotions that I couldn’t discern.

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What are you doing here, specter? I asked her, inherently knowing that she could hear my thoughts.

My “encounters” with her illuminated a few things; namely, that she was simultaneously a representation of the Shadow’s influence on the central fragment of Libbu’s core structures anchored within my soul and a medium for the Umbral Bride who had marked my Vessel. She was also not real or, at least, she was quasi-real. The closest equivalent in the Physical were specters, spirits of the dead who lingered past their deaths for one reason or another. My connection to the piece of Libbue’s core revealed that she, the real her, was with the Crawling Shadow, acting as unnecessary collateral for my end of our covenant. Her purpose seemed to be to act as a talking carrot at the end of a stick leading me down the path to power— a maddeningly infuriating situation.

Still, I couldn’t hold any true hostility toward this specter of my dearest companion. Her very presence dulled the ache of longing that had plagued me for over two millennia. Even the feel of her psychic communication left my mind delighted at the touch, despite the subtle corruption below the surface. It was this same comfort that made me glad the ritual’s safeguards wouldn’t activate unless she attempted to interfere with my soul or mana directly.

“I am always here, my beloved,” she said as her lips curved into a smile. “We are one… Two halves of a whole.”

Hmph, you are hardly a whole half. So not speak as if you are Libbu. You are merely a figment playing with the scraps of memory available to you, I scoffed. The Stigmata’s shape made some sense now. Drawing more inspiration from the mark’s design, I added, And, I suppose we feed into one another, growing and expanding with limitless potential?

“You speak the truth with such derision…” A spectral hand materialized a short distance below her floating face reaching forward to caress my soul. “Denial has always been one of your most masterfully wielded tools. Whether it was denying your connection to humanity in Ur or denying what we could’ve become if you accepted my love before it was too late. Even now, you deny the truth in my eyes because you fear it.”

Something in the center of my being twisted itself into knots. My thoughts slowed to a crawl while her words played in my mind over and over. Although I wanted to, something like pride stopped me from being able to deny the veracity of her words. That same emotion moved my soul’s gaze to her eyes. There, I saw darkness, unending and cold, beneath her emotions. Familiar warm mana coalesced with the shadows mixing and creating something new. Seeing this, the twisting in my core turned painful as though a vital piece would soon break.

“What was it your daughter once said? ‘The eyes are the gateway to the soul. What was her name again?” she whispered tilting her head to the side.

Eresh…, I replied automatically. If I could grit my teeth, I would have. The deeper I looked into her eyes, the more agonizing the truth became. Her mention of one of my fleshwarped hardly made my distress better. As if sensing my difficulty, she spoke my nightmare.

“Do not lower yourself by denying it any longer, beloved. I am she, your heart, Mother of Sorcery, and the Pivot of Earth and Blood, but I am also the Umbral Bride of Dusk’s Fall and Herald of the Crawling Shadow.”

The rage from feeling the foreign astral beings in Earth’s sector paled in comparison to the tide of wrath that bubbled up within my soul as I was forced to acknowledge Libbu’s current condition.

You were to remain untouched… I whispered. Red and black streaks snaked through the wisps of psykhe drifting within my Astral Domain. YOU WERE TO REMAIN PURE!

The psykhe stretched from wisps to strands which swirled around the two of us creating an iridescent vortex with evermore distinct notes of black and red. I didn’t even try to contain my anger; in fact, I wasn’t sure that I could. That fading sense of control awakened an old emotion in me, a toxic thing that poisoned the mind and could ruin even gods.

Fear.

Shades of blue joined the red and black patterns forming within the vortex. A chill radiated from my core feeding its growth and expanding the vortex. I needed to regain control.

‘Libbu’ watched my struggle until it seemed the blue would overtake all of the other colors within my psykhe. Before it could, her face moved toward me and a body materialized, clothed in a dress of black lace and silk. She smiled at me while her fingers glided over the edges of my soul.

“We are one, my beloved,” she said again. “Did you truly believe that your covenant with the Shadow would leave me untouched?”

The black spirals bled into gray which split off dulling the colors of everything as I had an epiphany. Rather than make her a sub-core, I housed Libbu within my core structures. Her presence had affected me so much that the shape of my core reflected her presence as I intentionally and unintentionally changed its shape to integrate and facilitate the only piece of her that I had left. For two millennia, we had been intertwined as two sets of core structures; in a sense, two separate beings joined within a single astral body. I had always been in control, but the resonance and feelings I got from her core structures… I never questioned what I had done in my desperate attempt to preserve and one day bring her back. In theory, it seemed impossible given the gulf of difference between us and our affinities. Had I truly made her my heart or something like it? Had my covenant with the Crawling Shadow caused her transformation as opposed to some kind of insidious machination enacted by the Aspect?

“You didn’t deny it.”

What…? I asked. My thoughts were a jumbled mess. I understood what she had asked, but I couldn’t parse anything past the words themselves, let alone come up with an answer. Her smile brightened and for a moment, her skin looked slightly healthier. In her eyes, the warm mana became more dominant.

“You didn’t deny that Eresh was your daughter,” she said. Her statement hung between us, a ball of possibility. I reached forward with an iridescent hand, some deeper part yearning for an answer to a sudden question. When I grabbed hold of the possibility, the vortex changed.

The red strands shifted to various shades which warred with each other, some fiery, hostile and angry while others were focused, passionate, and energetic. The almost dominant blues became a mess of fear, disassociation, security, and trust. The dull gray bleeding into everything faded then refocused outlining each color highlighting their vivid hues more than before.

Libbu leaned forward, our faces nearly touching. She looked into my eyes and I watched as the warm mana, her mana, struggled against the darkness.

“We are changing, beloved,” she declared. “I entrusted myself to you long ago, so only you can decide our direction. But, choose you must. You cannot be an astral being and a man.”

As she finished, her forehead touched against mine. There was a warmth there. Our lips came close, but before they could touch, she was gone. I looked around my domain finding only the matrix below and the vortex swirling around me.

At that moment, I almost broke. Pathetic as I was, I’m not ashamed to say so now since my struggle shaped what I would later become. Teetering on the precipice, I made a decision.

My will flared scattering the vortex into hundreds of strands. The strands regained their iridescence as the colors flowed into one another rejoining as though the separation never happened. Then, the structures began to appear.

Protection, perception, attack, and other types joined the matrix. As I crafted more structures, my Astral Domain took shape. I saw a city surrounded by two rivers that ran along the barrier of my domain. The rivers were shone like prismatic currents that frothed along their banks. Between the city and the rivers, vibrant, red grass swayed in an invisible wind. At the center of the city, a ziggurat hummed with power. Spectral phantoms ran from the ziggurat to various buildings, each colored differently. Some of these phantoms carried weapons, others carried tomes, and still more, bore orbs of iridescent energy.

My domain… I thought regarding my work with a complex set of emotions. My gaze drifted to the apex of the ziggurat where a gem filled with crackling red and purple energy rested. As I looked upon the first step of my plan, something cruel shifted in the depths of my mind, biding its time. One day soon, even death will die…