The days—or more accurately what felt like days—stretched on as I delved deeper into the intricacies of my inner domain. The process was slow, and progress was difficult to measure, but I was making significant strides in my experimentation and exploration. After completing the first mana core, the others came more easily, requiring only minor adjustments to the array for different elements. Consequently, the remaining four cores formed quickly and with relative ease.

Then, things became far more complicated. Because how could I be satisfied with creating a simple grove or garden when I had the potential to achieve so much more? Logically, I knew it was my own ego which set me on this path. That stubborn perfectionist side of me refused to settle for anything less than the best. I wanted to create a true inner sanctum, one which encompassed everything I enjoyed and loved about Kaledon. It seemed foolish and impossible. But I persisted, because I wanted to see how far I could push this, how much I could do, before the world outside demanded my attention again.

It was a selfish and indulgent desire, but it felt like a necessary outlet for all the stress and anxiety swirling inside me. It became my refuge, a safe place where I could lose myself in the fantasy of it all. In that space, in the moment, I didn't have to think about what awaited me when I stepped out. I could just be. It was cathartic, allowing me to release the tension I had been holding onto. It was a release, an escape, and a chance to let go of all the weight and responsibility resting on my shoulders.

So, I did what I do best and immersed myself in the project, letting the details consume me.

The central idea behind this space was transformation—specifically, converting raw materials into something greater, and this was achieved by blending perceptual illusions with the principles of transmutation. Just as in Kaledon, when I shaped the desert sand using visualization and mana, the same could be done in this realm. However, instead of turning sand into sandstone or glass, the foundation for my world was the ubiquitous base matter from which all things were formed. Rather than transmuting one substance into another similar one, the goal was to change the form and function of that base matter, resulting in a wide variety of materials, objects, and structures.

The challenge I faced to achieve this vision was recalling the detailed specifications of each aspect. It wasn't enough to visualize the image of a flower or tree, I needed to understand the intricacies of its composition and construction. I had to envision the intricate design of every petal, leaf, and branch, the delicate balance of color and texture, and the complexity of the cellular structure. This was especially important for the plant-life since it would need to sustain itself over time. I needed a complete understanding of the material and its properties, the details that made it what it was.

Pharmaceutical science and biochemistry were both subjects I was well-versed in, and I'd always found the study of herbs and plants fascinating. Traditional herbalism and alchemy was an ancient art, and a lot of what we knew today was derived from those early practitioners. They were the ones who first identified the healing properties of certain herbs, the medicinal uses of various plants, and the connection between the natural world and our own bodies.

With the knowledge and skills gained from those early alchemists, combined with my modern understanding of biology and chemistry, I was able to create various types of plant life for Khēmeia, from both Kaledon and Earth.

It was a time consuming process, and the work was far from complete. But, there was a sense of accomplishment and deep satisfaction that came with each creation. It was my personal Eden, and I felt immensely proud of it.

-

Khēmeia, so named for the ancient Greek word for alchemy, was a vast island floating in a dark sea, an oasis of life, a verdant landscape filled with everything my heart desired and more. It was a paradise, a place of serenity and wonder. There were rolling fields of grass and wildflowers, lush forests with towering trees, and vast plains dotted with colorful meadows.

Especially the temple, the focal point of Khēmeia. It was a grand structure, far grander than what Tris built on Pyros Mountain. My temple rose majestically from the island's center, its design an amalgamation of styles and influences reflecting the various cultures and histories I studied and admired. Although, to call it a temple didn't do justice to its grandeur. A better name might be a temple complex or a temple city, a vast and intricate network of buildings, courtyards, gardens, and walkways.

In building the temple city, I drew inspiration from the ancient civilizations of Greece, Egypt, Rome, and China, incorporating their architectural features and cultural motifs into my creation. The overall shape of the complex was a circle around a five-point star, and at each point sat a large tower. These towers, each dedicated to a specific element, served as the elemental mana cores. The five towers were interconnected by an expansive network of covered corridors and walkways, providing access and connectivity between the different areas of the complex, but their true function was to act as conduits for the mana flow.

The complex was a sprawling, multi-storied, open-air complex, and while only a few of the buildings were furnished, they were all functional. Each room, whether a library, lab, workshop, or living quarters, had a purpose. There was a commercial area, housing facilities, an armory, and even training grounds. Everything had their purpose. The herb garden, greenhouse, and orchard provided a place for cultivating medicinal herbs and fruit. The vegetable and spice gardens were sources of fresh produce and ingredients. The aqueducts and irrigation system kept the plants watered and fed and also supplied the residential areas with running water. The complex was designed to be completely self-sufficient.

The entire complex was large enough to house hundreds of people, and it had everything needed to sustain such a population. And yet, there was still so much more that could be done. The potential was limitless. However, I had limited myself to the scope and scale of a small town as there was no need to create a sprawling metropolis, not right now, anyway. There was plenty of room to expand the complex if the need arose. However, for now, the size, which I estimated at roughly a kilometer in diameter, was ideal for a small group of people.

The island itself was, if I created it to the specifications I was working toward, a hundred square kilometers in size. More than large enough for any future expansion. And while the size of the island might have seemed large, it was really just a fraction of the vastness that existed beyond its borders. The only reason I even created it that size was because the larger it was, the better it disguised the darkness beyond. From the temple, I could look out across the island and see nothing but lush green forests and fields, the occasional lake or stream, and the towering mountains in the distance. It was a peaceful and beautiful sight.

There would be times, when I stood upon my private balcony overlooking my creation, that I lost myself in day-dreams of the life I could have here. Perhaps one day, if I completed all the necessary steps, then I could bring the others here, and they could live with me here. Marcus would love the forge I built for him, and I imagined he could create some magnificent weapons and armor in this place. Kip would rule over the commercial district and the market, and I had no doubt he would thrive. Rainy would love the gardens, and she would be able to grow and harvest a wide variety of plants and herbs. Pia and Victoria I am sure would also find something to interest them here.

Even the others, the ones I did not know well, the Eternia guild members who came together under the same banner, would be welcome here. They could help build up this place and make it into a thriving community, one that reflected our shared vision. Eternia wasn't like the guilds who sought only power and wealth. Eternia might have its hunting teams and fighters, but at its core, Eternia was a crafters guild. It was a guild of people who wanted to create, not just destroy, who valued knowledge and skill over violence. A guild that was focused on living and not merely surviving, who sought to build and grow, to have a place they could call home. A place where the guild members were not just members, but a community.

Perhaps one day, I would be able to share this place with my friends, family and those who were precious to me. One day, they will all walk the streets and pathways of my city, live in the houses and work in the shops. But for now, it was my private sanctuary.

Well, mine and Zosimos'.

That vain crow had insisted on having a home of his own in Khēmeia, a grand and aerie that would be a testament to his magnificence, as he put it.

Built on the mountains that rose on the northern end of the island, overlooking the dark sea, the aerie was to be a magnificent and imposing structure, a towering monopteros-style structure, with a circular colonnade and open interior space. The entire thing had been built and rebuilt several times as Zosimos critiqued every detail of my design, and I was forced to make changes to accommodate his demands. It was an excessive and pretentious construct, far too large for a bird of his size, but he insisted he would “grow into it,” whatever that meant. He even had a grandiose set of stairs carved into the side of the mountain, so people could come to offer him tribute, not that there were any people. At least not yet. But still, I built it to his specifications, because in the end, this was not a matter of practicality or necessity. It was a matter of shutting up the crow's constant complaints, even if it meant indulging his ego and vanity.

However, it was the underground lake where I spent most of my time. Hidden deep within the island, beneath the temple, it was accessible only via a winding tunnel that descended into the earth, ending in a massive cavern. This was where I created my personal sanctum, the chamber where I meditated and reflected. It was also the epicenter of my domain, the place where the central core of my world rested.

This underground lake and its connected labyrinth of rivers were the aspects I spent the most time shaping. They served as a conduit for mana, forming a vast array of streams that coalesced into a transmutation array—a complex system designed to circulate mana throughout Khēmeia. My hypothesis was that similar channels coursed beneath Kaledon, as I’d read several books mentioning ‘mana flows’ and ‘ley-lines’.

The water wasn't the only thing I planned to imbue with mana, either. All the trees, plants, and even the mountains were infused with their own mana cores, as were the sun, moon, and stars above. Each element was intricately connected by illusionary threads, all part of my grand design. I theorized that if I could infuse the world with enough mana, it would create a dense concentration capable of solidifying my realm into a functioning construct—a reality, albeit a subjective one. Reality, after all, was a subjective experience, and what was reality anyway, except an agreed-upon consensus created through collective memory and experience?

I looked out over the expanse of the lake, my gaze settling on the giant mana core hovering over the water. It was a massive construct, as wide as I was tall, and the most difficult to create of all the cores. But it was necessary because that core was the main power node of the transmutation array. It was the heart of the world, and without it, nothing else would work, for this core was the axis upon which everything else was oriented.

If I moved above ground and looked up, I would see the sun core positioned right above this core. If I went beneath the island, I would find the moon. All three cores, the largest of them all, were perfectly aligned. When the arrays were activated, the sun and moon would rotate around the main core and, in turn, around the island. This established not a heliocentric astronomical model as proposed by Copernicus, but an Aristotelian one. Kaledon was the same in this regard, as it adhered to a model echoing ancient beliefs that everything was made in concentric circles centered around a divine center, that center being the realm of the gods.

Alongside the sun and moon, there were also two hundred and seventy six smaller cores, all connected by an elaborate network of mana infused threads that formed a perfect sphere around the island. This sphere was a transmutation array that served as both a visual barrier to keep out the void and an environmental controller. It provided the ideal conditions for the plant life, ensured the temperature was comfortable, and created a gentle breeze to prevent the air from becoming stagnant.

In its entirety, the system was complex, yet elegant, but I had no way of knowing how successful the array would be until I activated it. To do so, I had to infuse the whole system with mana, something which would require an absurd amount of effort.

I sighed, gazing out across the underground lake, contemplating the next steps. While the theory was sound, I still felt as though something was missing, a final component that would make it all come together. But what? What was I overlooking?

Another sigh escaped my lips, and I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"Caw," Zosimos cawed as he landed on my shoulder, nipping at my ear.

"Don't pester me," I grumbled, looking up at the glowing sphere that floated in the air before me. "It's almost complete, all it needs now is the finishing touches."

Zosimos tilted his head to the side, giving a condescending caw.

"Yes, yes," I said, waving him off. "I know I've said that dozens of times before."

He was right, though. I had said the same thing countless times, and each time, it proved to be untrue, and I ended up scrapping the entire project and starting over.

"This time, I'm sure I can make it work. It just needs a few more adjustments, and it will be done," I insisted, peering at the massive orb before me. "It has to be."

I was enjoying the respite from the daily pressures and stresses, but it was beginning to wear on me. The truth was I was exhausted—not physically, but mentally. I didn't feel hunger or thirst here, nor did I get physically tired. But the mental strain was equally, if not more, draining.

Not only that, but I was lonely. While I'd always been a solitary person, preferring to spend my time alone, this was a different kind of loneliness. It wasn't just the solitude or lack of interaction with others. It was a yearning for connection, a longing for the sense of community and belonging that comes from having people who understand you and care about you. I missed my brother, and all the friends and acquaintances I'd made in Kaledon.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been trapped in the void, but I suspected it had been at least a week or two. I did create a clock for myself, but without a reference point, knowing the correct sequence of ante meridiem and post meridiem was impossible. Counting seconds, minutes, and hours was easy enough by converting from one system to the next. But determining the day and night cycle was different, and I couldn't accurately measure the days when I had no idea where the actual solar day-cycle was at.

Since I began counting the days in accordance with my own accounting of time, twenty six days had passed, but how that translated to Kaledon, I had no idea. I knew there were some virtual worlds where days could pass in a few Earth hours, so it wasn't impossible that I was in some sort of time compression zone. After all, time was relative.

But the truth was, I didn't really care about the exact number. I just wanted to go home. I was hopeful, however, that in terms of Kaledon's passage of time, it wouldn't have been more than a few days at most. My friends already worried over me enough as it was, and I knew it wouldn't take them long to notice my absence. Darius and Noctus both made a habit of checking on me at odd hours, especially if I had been in the lab for an extended period.

It felt like a child being checked on by overly attentive parents. Except one parent was an overly flirtatious vampire with a penchant for thievery, and the other, well, if Darius wasn't the very definition of a mother hen, I don't know who was. He was good at pretending he wasn't a huge softie, but it was impossible to miss how he watched over everyone in the guild. The guild leader was stern and stoic, with a level-headed approach to leadership and a knack for understanding and responding to the needs of his guild. Darius was a rare type of leader. He cared about his guild and its members but wasn't a pushover. He knew when to step in and when to stay out of the way. Above all else, he was a man of integrity.

In contrast to him as co-leader, Noctus was a natural charmer and a brilliant strategist. While Darius handled day-to-day operations, Noctus was the face of the guild. He was the diplomat, the socialite who made connections and sealed deals. It was a good balance, and the guild prospered under their leadership. I was grateful to be a part of it, even if my contribution mainly involved supplying potions and giving Darius a headache.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Kak-ark," Zosimos rasped, nudging me out of my musings.

I grimaced, shaking my head. I’d gotten distracted again. Instead of working, I was staring off into space, daydreaming about the guild and my friends.

I'll see them again soon, I assured myself silently. Once I'd created this inner world, and Tris finally let me out of the void, I would take a break from the temple and my lab, and spend some time with my friends and Marcus. Maybe I'd even do some of that physical training Darius and Noctus kept pestering me about. It wasn't as if I hadn't thought about it, but I just never had the time.

I sighed, pushing those thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time for distractions. I needed to focus. I needed to finish this and return to Kaledon, rather than wallowing in self-pity and loneliness.

The last part of the arrays was almost finished. It just needed the final touches, and then I could move on to the next phase of creation. I needed to complete the metaphysical aspects of the array, or rather, the 'laws' of the universe. As written in the Kybalion, "the Universe exists by virtue of these Laws, which form its framework and hold it together," and if I wanted my world to function, I needed to make sure it was following these laws as well.

In the Kybalion, there were seven Hermetic principles, considered the fundamental laws of the universe. These could be divided into two categories; there were three Higher Immutable Laws, which were absolute and eternal, while the remaining four were the Lower Immutable Laws, which were subject to change and transcendence yet remained unchanging in nature. Additionally, there were four more laws not mentioned in the Kybalion, which only came to light later.

It was these twelve universal laws that would become the foundation of my world's structure. Each law would have its own array which would be inscribed onto the central core, creating a set of interlocking arrays that would reinforce the stability of the entire world. In short, the arrays would act as the rules, logic, and code that governed the operation of the world. My hope was that the rules I established in Khēmeia would mirror those of the world outside and that by ensuring that the dynamics within my realm were coherent with the truths of Kaledon, I could create a space that felt alive and familiar, rather than an arbitrary construct.

The first law I inscribed into the core was the Law of Divine Oneness, also known as the Hermetic Principle of Mentalism. This law stated that everything was interconnected and posed the concept that the universe was essentially a mental construct. This law emphasized that every entity, thought, and action operated within a collective consciousness, influencing and being influenced by the whole. This meant that if I believed in the reality of Khēmeia, it would exist because it was a mental construct formed by my perception and experience.

Next, the Law of Vibration mirrored the Hermetic Principle of Vibration, asserting that everything in existence was in constant motion. According to String Theory, even solid objects, which seemed unchanging, were made up of vibrating strings and everything in the universe, from the smallest atom to the largest star, vibrated at a particular frequency. The Law of Vibration stated that the speed of vibration determined the rate at which an object or entity existed. A slower vibration meant an entity would experience time and events at a slower pace, while a faster vibration meant an entity would experience time and events at a faster pace.

The Law of Attraction was another crucial tenet, and it stated that the energy and matter within the universe was attracted to like energy and matter. It tied into the first two laws, emphasizing the importance of intention in the creation process. By envisioning the desired outcome, I could attract the necessary energy and matter to manifest that vision.

Following this came the Law of Correspondence, which encapsulated the phrase “as above, so below.” The concept was simple, yet profound. Everything in the universe, from the smallest particle to the largest galaxy, was connected. And, on a metaphysical level, everything was a reflection of its higher self. The Law of Inspired Action flowed on from this, a reminder that while intention and mental manifestation was crucial, it must be paired with action. I needed to craft paths for growth, not just within the flora and fauna but within the very fabric of Khēmeia.

The Law of Cause and Effect was paramount, too. Every action would have a reaction, and I needed to ensure that my inner world operated under a framework of consequences. This principle guided the mechanics of the transmutation array. If I manipulated the mana in one part of Khēmeia, I needed to understand how it would ripple through the rest. The balance of energies would dictate how life flourished or faltered in my realm.

In this, the Law of Compensation also came into play, in that for every action, there must be a balance. If I sought to create beauty, there must also be a measure of struggle, a counterbalance that enriched the experience of existence. For life to thrive, there must be death, and for beauty to be seen, there must be ugliness. Without darkness, there is no light, and without challenge, there is no triumph.

The Law of Polarity, which posited that all things exist on a spectrum, was central to this idea. Within the polarities of existence, there was growth, and the potential for transformation. Light and dark, hot and cold—these were two sides of the same coin. In my realm, this meant crafting contrasts that would give depth to the experience. For example, by incorporating a day and night cycle, along with a system of seasons, I could create a dynamic that would allow for periods of light and darkness, warmth and cold. The variety would enrich the world, adding a layer of complexity and realism. This also blended into the Law of Rhythm, which echoed the natural cycles of existence—birth, growth, decay, and rebirth. It emphasized the importance of movement and change. A stagnant world would be dull and lifeless; a thriving realm was one that had a heartbeat. The ebb and flow of life was crucial for sustaining Khēmeia, keeping it alive and vibrant.

The next principle, the Law of Gender, spoke to the dualities of creation which tied into the previous laws. It asserted that both masculine and feminine energies existed in all things. To create a harmonious inner world, I needed to embrace the duality of existence, bringing together the complementary forces of yin and yang. This meant incorporating opposites that would interact and balance each other, forming a cohesive whole. In this context, gender didn't have to do with biological sex but with the concept of masculine and feminine energy. Both were required to create a stable and vibrant inner world, just as both were required for the creation of a living entity.

Then there was the Law of Relativity, a reminder that nothing exists in isolation. Every element in my realm would be connected through a web of relationships. I would need to establish connections between different aspects of Khēmeia, ensuring that the experience of one influenced the others. This law demanded an awareness of perspective; how a tree might seem vast to a small creature but would be just a small part of the larger ecosystem to me. By weaving these relationships carefully, I could create a more profound sense of belonging and continuity throughout my inner world.

Lastly, there was the Law of Perpetual Transmutation of the Elements. This law held that energy was constantly changing form, transforming from one state to another, and that nothing remained static. It was a reminder that all existence was fluid, an ever-evolving tapestry woven from the threads of change. In the context of my world, this principle meant that mana—the very lifeblood of Khēmeia—would continuously cycle through various forms and states.

As I integrated this final law into my array, I could feel the shift in my perspective. It was both a subtle and profound shift, as if I had finally broken through a barrier that had been holding me back.

"Here goes nothing," I murmured, bracing myself for the possibility of a huge explosion and the potential backlash it might have on my physical self, or rather my mana core. Being a manifestation of my subconscious, I couldn't sense my physical mana core, but it had to be connected to this place somehow. This meant there was a chance I could damage or destroy my own core if this went wrong.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the array, envisioning the flow of mana and directed it towards the first power node, then onwards through the series of smaller nodes, connecting them all into a single, powerful circuit. As the mana began to flow, I felt a strange sensation, like a tingling in my core. At first, it was faint, but as the flow increased, it became stronger, until I was nearly overwhelmed by the feeling.

I was dimly aware that Zosimos was cawing at me, but I ignored him, concentrating on the task at hand. I felt the energy responding and growing stronger as it channeled through the array. It was like a tidal current, flowing from one node to the next, gathering momentum and power. Soon, I was no longer merely directing it. I was connecting with it, becoming one with the energies of creation. It was an exhilarating sensation, and I allowed myself to fall into it, yielding to the process. The boundaries of my individual self began to blur and expand outward until I was no longer separate from the energies around me. I was everywhere and everything, flowing through the channels and nodes of the array, imbuing them with my intentions and desires.

In that moment, I became not just the architect of Khēmeia but the very essence that sustained it. I felt the land thriving beneath my touch, the mana flowing like a river through every crevice and corner, nourishing life, forging connections, and binding everything together. I was present in every moment, aware of the cycles of birth and rebirth, of life and decay. I felt the ebb and flow of energies, the rhythm of the seasons shifting around me, a dance of creation that never ceased. The landscapes began to shift and reshape at my will, mountains transforming into valleys, rivers altering their courses, each change a testament to my desires.

As I immersed myself in the experience, flowing through the array and connecting with the various elements of Khēmeia, I became aware of a disruption in the flow. It was a node, but it wasn't one of the ones I designed. It was a rogue element, an aberration that formed within the array. The node was an anomaly, an unknown factor that didn't belong. There was also a second node similar to it, even smaller and simpler, barely registering on the array's network.

The smaller node had a familiarity to it, a resonance like a memory. I sensed it, but I couldn't identify it. It was like a word on the tip of my tongue, a feeling just out of reach.

Dismissing the smaller for now, I focused on the larger node, trying to understand its significance. The more I probed it, the more I became aware of its presence. It was an intruder, a foreign entity siphoning energy from the array like a leech. I directed all my attention to the anomaly, attempting to discern its nature. What was its purpose? How did it come to be here? Why was it draining the array's energy?

As I examined the flow of mana redirected to the anomaly, layers of interwoven pathways unfurled before me, each branching out to reveal a different aspect of an astonishing transmutation array. This formation was unlike anything I had ever encountered before. It was an incredibly complex network, created by someone with immense expertise. The array itself was a masterpiece, and its design was breathtaking. I thought my arrays were impressive, but this was on a completely different level.

I could tell that whoever created this array did so with meticulous care, crafting each element with a level of detail and precision beyond anything I imagined. It was a work of art, a symphony of power and intent, a testament to the passion and vision of its creator. And yet, as magnificent as it was, there was something deeply unsettling about the array.

I sensed a subtle resonance, familiar yet elusive. Trismegistus, that's who it felt like. The resonance was similar, yet different, like a shadow of his power, an echo of his presence. How had it found its way into the array? Zosimos... a being created by Tris, was the only other presence in the void besides me.

It was Zosimos that I sensed, his mana core, his essence. He was feeding off the mana here, using it to sustain himself. While I understood the need, it was affecting the entire array, disrupting its function and draining the system's energy. He should have been a harmonious part of the flow, but instead, he acted as a parasite, stealing the mana.

I focused my mind and will on the node, directing the flow of energy to shift and reorient itself. There was resistance, but I pushed through, forging ahead until the energy flowed along new paths, surrounding and enveloping the node. The resistance grew as the node struggled against the flow, but I was stronger. My will prevailed, and I sensed the moment when the node relented.

The mana settled into a new pattern, the node no longer fighting. It became a part of the flow, its energy merging with the rest. The connection was palpable, I sensed Zosimos presence within me, a part of me, a part of Khēmeia. He became a part of the world, an extension of its energy. We were connected, his energy flowing through me and with that connection came understanding. Zosimos was scared.

He was no longer the proud creature he once was but rather a scared child, abandoned and adrift. While I was lost in the ebbs and flow of mana, Zosimos had been left alone on the bank of the lake. I vanished before his eyes, leaving him alone with no understanding of where I had gone. I felt it all—his fear, uncertainty, and abandonment.

Zosimos had an awareness beyond what I expected. I'd known that he had once been the artificial being who Trismegistus created to play the role of high priestess, a role he'd not even had a chance to fulfill.

I knew his story, but I hadn't realized that he'd known it too. That he was aware of what had happened. However, it seemed that Zosimos didn't have memories of that former self. He only knew such about himself because he'd been present when Trismegistus and I spoke of his former existence. He knew he had a former self, but he had no memories of it, the only memories and knowledge he had were from the short time we'd been together.

The Zosimos who'd been remade had a sense of awareness, a spark of intelligence, one that was capable of learning and responding to stimuli. But it was nothing compared to the consciousness that now flowed through him, a consciousness he'd been bestowed before Trismegistus sent him to the void. While it wasn't a full sentience, it was a step in that direction, a hint of the potential he had.

"I gave you this gift of life, Zosimos, because she is in need of you. Kadia is in need of someone to watch over her, to be her confidant and companion. I gave you this form, because where humans have betrayed her, time and again, and gods are fickle, and capricious, you will remain loyal. For, as a beast, you have no reason to lie. No reason to betray her, to scheme, or plot. You have no need for the games that gods and mortals play. You will be her guardian, her tutelar, her companion. It is for her, that you have life, for her, that you have self, and it is for her that you live. Without her, you are nothing, and with her, you are everything."

Those words. They had been the last words spoken between god and bird before he'd been sent into the darkness.

I withdrew from the connection with Zosimos, attempting to separate myself from the omni-present flow of energy. I had become one with the energy of creation, and now, I needed to return to the state of singularity. For Zosimos, who was mournfully waiting on the bank of the underground lake, wondering if 'his Kadia' would ever come back.

My essence flowed through the world, an amorphous form adrift in the metaphysical realm. I was mana, and mana was me, the line between us having long since faded. The only reason I was distinct from everything else was that I chose to be and what I chose to be now, was Kadia.

The mana began to coalesce, the particles gathering together and forming a shape. The shape was small and insignificant at first, but it soon began to grow. As the mana gathered, the shape grew, until it took on a more recognizable form. It was the form of a person, a woman. It was me. It was an odd sensation, to watch my body form. It felt surreal, almost dreamlike.

But as the form grew more defined, I became aware of a strange sensation, a kind of tugging. It was like an invisible force pulling me in, drawing me toward that form. It was almost jarring. But I was determined to make the transition, to reclaim the sense of self that had become so distant.

As the mana flowed through me, a new awareness began to emerge. It was the sense of feeling, of being physical. The sense of weight and mass, of solidity and substance. Of being separate, distinct, and individual.

The last of the mana coalesced, and my form solidified. I was me once again.

"Well, I guess that's what people mean when they say become one with the universe." I muttered as I slowly blinked my eyes. It was so strange to have a corporeal form again, to feel the weight of my body, the warmth of the air around me.

It was surreal, as if I'd been in a dream and had just awoken. I needed to be careful not to do that too often, or I would end up with a god-complex. I already had enough complexes, as it was, I didn't need any more.

As I stood there, trying to regain my bearings, I sensed a disturbance in the flow of energy that flowed around me. It was a tingling sensation, like an itch that needed to be scratched. It wasn't physical, but it was there nonetheless. I couldn't pinpoint the source, but I knew it was there. I could feel it, the gentle hum of energy, like something was watching me.

I focused on the sensation, trying to figure out what it was. As I concentrated, the feeling became clearer. It was a presence. A familiar presence.

Trismegistus!

It was faint, but definitely him. But before I could say anything, before I could even process the thought, he was gone. His presence faded, leaving only a distant echo of his energy.

He had been watching me. "Trismegistus! Tris! Damn it, don't just leave me here!" I shouted, frustration boiling over. I'd spent so much time, effort, and energy creating this place, this world, and he hadn't even said a word? Just watched me from afar like some creepy stalker?

I shouted and cursed, using every profanity I could think of, as well as a few I made up on the spot. I was furious, but also hurt. How could he not say anything? Did he not see what I'd done? Did he not realize how hard I'd worked? Why had he not spoken to me? Why had he not shown himself, acknowledged my efforts? A little praise, a word of encouragement, even a simple greeting would have been enough. But he'd given me nothing.

"Caw-k," Zosimos cried, landing on my shoulder, his wings fluttering slightly as he settled.

"Oh for—" I scowled, staring down at my naked self,"—I guess that's why he left," I muttered, adjusting the sleeve of my blouse as it manifested itself on my body. He probably knew I'd be more than a little embarrassed if he popped in and I was naked.

"Caw-rrk-caw."

"It's not funny," I said, frowning at him.

"Krr-cawk," he said, sounding very smug.

"You're going to get us in trouble, you know that? What if he'd heard you calling him a dirty pervert?" I huffed, shaking my head as I started towards the tunnel entrance which would lead me back up to the temple proper. “Where did you learn those kinds of things, anyway?”

Zosimos shrugged his wings, seemingly unfazed by the prospect. "Caw-k," he chirped, his tail feathers fluttering as he gave a little bounce.

"Ah," I said, realizing he picked it up from me calling Noctus similar names. "Try not to let him influence you, Zos. He's already rubbed off on Zaius, and I don't need you picking up his pilfering habits too." The last thing I needed was Zosimos' deviant side getting worse. He was already too mischievous, as it was.

"Caw!"

"Right," I snorted, rolling my eyes as he squawked and puffed out his chest, clearly offended by the accusation. "Just try and behave, okay?"

He ignored me, as always, and proceeded to preen his feathers, as if nothing I'd said had even registered.

I sighed, shaking my head in amusement as we continued our walk through the tunnel. I wasn't sure how to feel about what I'd learned about Zosimos and knew I needed to discuss it with Tris, but that would have to wait until the god returned. For now, I was more interested in seeing the changes I'd wrought on Khēmeia.