I learned three things very quickly when I merged with my vessel.

The first? Although I had counseled the great men of ages past on the importance of overcoming suffering, I had never truly understood physical pain. How could I? As an astral being, I didn’t even bother manifesting a physical form with a nervous system. So when I breathed my first breath through bloody, pierced lungs, I gained true understanding.

My body felt like it was on fire. Corrosive mana ate away at the mooring of my soul inflicting phantom agony on my body. Bruises covered my arms and legs. My chest was a bloody mess of ruined flesh that by all rights should have rendered my vessel unusable. So, I screamed, the sound distorted by the gurgle of my lifeblood. It was a purely instinctual action driven by biological factors with which I had no experience. For the first few seconds of my life, those factors ruled my mind.

When the cursed athame slammed into my chest for the final time, I sensed the cursed mana that redoubled the attack the tether linking my vessel to my soul. I could see the curse woven into the metal of the blade with my naked eyes and feel its presence against my skin. For the first time in my existence, primal, survival instinct drove my thoughts directing them to analyze the cursed mana.

The curse was designed to end the life of the target in the quickest way possible yet instead of attacking my body directly, the mana structure devoted all of its power to corroding the connection between my soul and vessel. Why? Well, to put it simply, I wasn’t dying despite my horrific injuries. The realization struck me, my second lesson.

I was too powerful to die… or at least, by mundane means.

I certainly felt like I might die at any moment but my unnaturally powerful soul remained tethered to my vessel. The moment of death for mortals happened when their souls were completely separated from their bodies. On rare occasions, mundane individuals have survived unthinkable physical trauma while others have died from trivial wounds or “shock”.

The truth is not all souls are made equal among mundane mortals and the stronger one’s soul, the stronger the soul’s tether to the body becomes. For humans, this translates into a scenario where as long as their tether remains intact and their brain is salvageable, their body will continue its fight for life; whether it is successful or not, is an entirely different matter. Thus, my soul which held the strength of untold numbers merged into it ensured that short of total destruction of my vessel, I wouldn’t die.

In light of this realization, I quickly analyzed my situation using the cursed mana in my body as a distraction from the pain. I observed the sorcerer channeling mana into his technique, the armed men scrambling to react to my movement, and the dim chamber lit by flickering lights suspended far above my head. As my mind raced, I took hold of the cursed mana with my will and broke it down into pure mana with the sheer pressure of my soul. The method lacked finesse and efficiency but I eked out enough usable mana for my plan in the moment of respite I had while the humans collected their wits.

The moment ended with a rain of bullets piercing my body. One would think the new injuries would cause more pain ruining my focus but the damage from the projectiles rendered large swathes of nervous tissue inoperable so most of my body went completely numb. So, I enacted my plan.

First, I defended against the bolt of crackling energy unleashed by the sorcerer using the same principle that I used against Lucille’s Archmage. Even then, I was forced to divert the attack’s path instead of collapsing the technique completely. In almost the same instant, I cast a minor veil to obscure my sorcery from the sorcerer’s eye-enhancing technique. Then, as the sides of the vehicle crackled with lightning, I shot an orb comprised of most of my available mana upward tethering myself to the orb with a thin string of pure mana. Grasping the mana with my will, I pulled hard toward the ceiling.

I underestimated how much force my will could generate and were my lungs not in such a horrible state, I would have shouted in surprise as I shot into the rafters of the old building much faster than anticipated. At the same time, the vehicle exploded creating a fearsome, if brief, fireball that distracted my assailants nicely.

I had selected a dark section of the ceiling left unilluminated by the few working lights. The darkness along with the sudden light provided by the sorcerer’s attack and the van’s explosion provided plenty of time for me to assess my would-be killers.

Six mundane humans and three sorcerers stood below. Two of the sorcerers were women but neither was a threat; one restrained with a collar and the other unconscious. The male sorcerer wasn’t anything impressive. He gave off a similar feeling to the many sorcerers that I had encountered in ancient times who obtained a modicum of power but lack any true skill in wielding it. If we were on the same level, I would’ve handled him without issue but we weren’t.

For all the power of my soul and strength of my will, I was no better than a newly Awakened human. I needed a way to deal with him. I couldn’t survive a frontal confrontation in my current condition especially not with the other humans in the mix.

While I wasn’t in danger of dying from my wounds, I felt the numbness that had banished the overwhelming pain spreading through my body. Cold seeped into my limbs making them less responsive and sapping my strength. If I didn’t finish the encounter soon, I’d turn into a sitting duck waiting to be picked off, and unimpressive though he was, the sorcerer had enough firepower to reduce my body to a pile of ash.

The seconds stretched into eternity as my mind raced through possible scenarios, all of which I had to discard because of my limited supply of mana and rapidly deteriorating physical condition. Something ugly worked its way into my thoughts in those seconds. It was like a pressure on my consciousness squeezing my cognition into ever narrower pathways. I couldn’t think of any feasible course of action. The mental noose drew ever tighter and try as I might, I couldn’t break free of its hold because I didn’t truly understand why it was happening.

I was panicking and I’m not sure if I would’ve overcome it had I not been saved.

“You have what you need to succeed, Nascent Soul,” a female voice asked. My shock at the voice provided a window for my thoughts to escape panic’s insidious grasp. The surprise wasn’t born of the question itself but its origin within my soul.

The voice came from the connection formed during my covenant with the four souls within the Crawling Shadow. I dove into the connection after the voice. I felt the presence of the others, yet they were muted and unreachable, all except one.

The Languid King.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Our souls touched, and I knew. My eyes drifted down to the young sorceress who knelt next to the enemy sorcerer. She was oblivious to my presence but within her, the soul of the Languid King reached out. I saw her soul’s depth, ancient and wise; however, its consciousness wasn’t what I expected.

I found the mind of a young human, none the wiser of the power dormant within her soul. A cursory glance of her surface thoughts showed curiosity, mild nervousness, and desire for answers. My confusion lasted for only a moment until the consciousness of the Languid King surged upward making contact with my mind once more.

It pressed upon my mind drawing a memory from me instead of communicating. The memory sent shivers through my soul. It was my transformation into my current state. The sensation of that time flowed into my thoughts delivering the third lesson.

Deconstruct, Reduce, Assimilate. The words echoed again and again as I recalled the grueling process of taking on the power of innumerable souls. When the memory passed, the Languid King’s presence went dormant much more leaving only the fleeting thoughts of the young sorceress.

I knew what I had to do. I could only hope it worked.

The next few seconds happened quickly. I moved my mana orb still attached to me by the string of the same pure mana. Once it was above the sorcerer, I used a sizable portion of the mana that I had converted from the death curse still ineffectually eating at my soul’s tether. Seven minuscule mana bolts flashed into existence. Though each bolt wouldn’t deal much damage as an attack, they had enough power to break the old light fixtures that served as the only light.

Just as I left the orbs fly, the young sorceress suddenly looked directly at me with wide eyes. The enemy sorcerer followed her gaze but by then, it was too late. The lights shattered plunging everything into darkness. I didn’t strike immediately, instead, I waited and watched the sorcerer as his face flitted through an array of emotions in quick succession.

Based on my brief assessment of his skill, I surmised that the attack technique he had prepared required most of his concentration to maintain limiting his ability to cast additional sorcery. If I was correct, he would have to choose whether to hold onto his attack or summon illumination.

The correct decision was to hold the attack since I couldn’t survive a direct hit from it and the armed men with him posed enough of a threat in my current condition to limit my options. However, I was confident that he would drop the technique. One emotion had ruled the consciousness of man since its inception especially when faced with the unknown.

Fear.

And like an old friend, fear delivered. The faint crackle of the attack faded and the sorcerer’s hands sped through the illumination technique. I made my move instantly zipping over to the area above my enemy and dropped just as a ball of light ascended to the middle of the ceiling. As I fell, I poured all of my remaining mana into the same Physical Empowerment technique that I had taught Lucille. Surprisingly, the enhancement proved much more effective than I anticipated flooding my waning body with strength as the technique burned through the small amount of mana I could provide.

I landed right before the sorcerer whirled to face me. His hands started the cast of another attack but I surged forward grabbing his hand.

He tried to break free to no avail. I marveled at the strength my technique provided concluding that it must be the result of the rituals arranged by Akasha and performed by the Languid King’s host. When it was clear that he couldn't escape me, the sorcerer tried to fight.

It was too late for that.

Much like I had done in the heart of the Crawling Shadow, I let instinct take over and something disturbing happened.

The black hole orbiting my soul pulsed. Before I could understand what was happening, my soul extended like a tsunami from the shore reaching to claim a piece of the land for the depths. Countless whispers slipped in and out of my consciousness as my soul fell upon the soul of Elijah Daniels. The sorcerer’s spirit, and subsequently, his mind, were compacted until their structure collapsed into an unrecognizable mass of soul-stuff. The mass was then stretched thin and twisted as though drawn into me through a funnel. When the remnants made contact with my soul, the modified Astral Gate activated for the first time screaming to life like a hungry spectral beast. The twisted mass entered the Astral Gate unlocking my connection with the Astral. At first, I wove the energy to establish an Astral Domain, otherwise known as a soul space for the consciousness within the Astral. Once that formed, the whispers swelled in volume instructing my will and I manipulated the soul-stuff like I would pure mana or psykhe.

In my Astral Domain, structures were realized, their construction only taking moments. I recognized them as modified pieces of my psykhe generation matrix. The pieces fell into place immediately after their creation like a product being fabricated in an assembly line. When the matrix was complete, the complex structure absorbed the rest of the sorcerer’s soul.

I marveled at the process even while my metaphoric gut churned from the echoes of agony left by the death of Elijah Daniels. As the psykhe matrix utilized the soul-stuff, my mind received a deluge of fragmented information, most of it useless in the current situation, and more importantly, I sensed my understanding of the Truths of the Soul deepen by a minuscule amount. The sensation washed away the discomfort filling me with delight.

Insight: this achievement was, and is, the greatest treasure a sorcerer, Awakened creature, or astral entity can receive. And I, I had gained it, albeit however small, by consuming the soul of a lesser sorcerer. For the first time, I felt I understood why the Akashic Records had agreed to my terms.

My euphoria was interrupted by a loud bang that broke the silence. Another projectile pierced my left eye causing me to stumble back a step. Thankfully, the sorcerer’s light had survived his death so the area was well illuminated. I found the source easily: Bradley. I knew his name from the jumble of information attained when my psykhe matrix consumed Elijah’s soul. He had a gun pointed straight at me.

I met his gaze with my one good eye. I saw the wavering will to fight in his steel-grey eyes. I noticed men around the room with their weapons at the ready struggling with their doubt and fear. I could feel the dread in the air.

Ignoring the sudden discomfort of my latest injury, I checked my psykhe matrix and was happy to find a small supply of psykhe ripe for usage. I smiled at Bradley whose hand trembled on his gun.

“Sleep,” I commanded, not aloud but through a wave of psykhe sent outward at the souls of all those I deemed enemies. Like puppets cut from their strings, the mundane humans collapsed having no way of defending against my ability to target their souls directly.

“Are you the Patron?” asked a voice to my left. I looked over and down at the Languid King’s host, Yotta. She regarded me with wide, curious eyes. She showed little aversion to the gruesome state of my body meeting my one good eye with an earnest gaze.

I glanced at the unconscious body of Liberty Blackthorn. Fairly sure that she wouldn’t wake up any time soon, I obliged my ignorant covenant mate.

“Yes,” I said kneeling next to her.

My hand brushed the collar on her neck overloading the enchantment’s structure with the excess curse mana still in my body. It wouldn’t have worked if the enchantment’s structure was better implemented but the workmanship spoke of an amateur’s touch. The collar’s lock popped open with a hiss and fast as a viper, I ripped it from her neck tossing it aside. The hissing continued until the enchantment completely destabilized causing the metal object to glow red hot with heat melting partially.

“We have much to discuss in time, Yotta,” I said. “But for now, I require time to repair my body. I need you—”

My words were cut short by a wave of fatigue and darkness flowing from the corners of my vision. My face rushed to the floor but instead of old concrete, I saw a face, her face.

Her dark veil disappeared as I fell into her hands. They were cold and soothing. She pulled me close, our lips meeting for the briefest of moments before she was gone.

Yotta’s voice sounded in my ears from somewhere far away as my good eye observed the cracks in the concrete extending into the encroaching shadows. Everything went quiet as darkness overtook me. In the void between the waking and sleeping worlds, a single whisper brushed against the beginnings of my dream; a whisper filled with sorrow and regret.

“Sleep now, my beloved. The Trial has yet to begin.”