I could only imagine the sight I must have presented to anyone observing me at that moment. There I sat at a modest desk on a simple wooden chair, one leg casually crossed over the other, my fingers idly tapping on the mahogany surface. as I stared into the infinite void. To an onlooker, it might have appeared odd to see what looked like a fully furnished study suspended in the midst of an expansive, empty space.
Beneath my feet, a richly woven carpet added a touch of warmth to the otherwise stark environment. Four stone braziers, placed symmetrically at the corners of the carpet, provided a soft, flickering glow that illuminated the space. To my left was a waist-high bookshelf, its shelves brimming with an array of glass vials, jars, and bottles filled with different colored liquids. None of them actually contained potions or elixirs, as one might expect. They were purely for decorative purposes, as I hadn't managed to brew a successful potion or even create a basic healing salve despite my numerous attempts. None of the plants or herbs I'd painstakingly created seemed to possess the necessary properties to aid in my alchemical endeavors. They adorned the room nonetheless, giving it a semblance of a well-appointed herbalist’s laboratory, even if their true worth was purely aesthetic.
There were no walls or ceiling to be seen, just the vast emptiness of space that seemed to envelop and embrace me. However, behind me was an ornate, intricately carved wooden screen, which created a sense of separation and boundary, easing the unsettling prickle at the back of my neck.
The silence was another thing I attempted to rectify. The absence of any ambient noise felt unnerving and even oppressive. To combat this, I experimented with different methods to fill the void, trying to replicate the familiar sounds of my lab; the bubbling of viscous liquids in a cauldron, the steady drip from a retort into a waiting vial, and the crackle of flames flickering in the braziers. It wasn’t perfect, but it was an improvement over total silence.
I had spent what felt like hours—or perhaps days—crafting and refining various items, mastering the intricacies of the process, and pushing the limits of my visualization skills, but there was always something missing, a vital piece I couldn't quite identify. Frustrated, I blew out a breath, running a hand through my hair.
What was I doing wrong? Despite multiple attempts to troubleshoot and identify the issue, the root cause remained elusive.
I could create an endless number of objects, but none of them felt right. None of them felt truly real. They lacked authenticity, the organic feel, the essence of true life. Something fundamental was missing, and it gnawed at me like an insatiable hunger. The more I created, the more glaring this absence became, until it was all I could think about. What was the secret ingredient, the spark that could breathe life into my creations?
"Why can't I get this right?" I muttered to myself, the frustration building inside me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind.
"Ca-w." I opened my eyes and glanced over at Zosimos, who was sitting proudly on his golden perch. The crow was enjoying his new throne immensely, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he preened his glossy black feathers. Beside his perch, on a stone table, a small pot held the Lycoris flower, its petals a vibrant red that seemed to pulse with life.
“I already said no, Zos,” I said, chuckling despite my frustration. The crow’s beady eyes sparkled with mischief, and he tilted his head as if challenging my authority. “You don’t need another shiny trinket to add to your collection.”
He gave a soft caw in protest, flapping his wings in an exaggerated manner, making it clear he believed he deserved more adornments for his perch.
“Fine, how about this?” I suggested, my voice playful. “If I can figure out how to create something with real substance, something that sings with life, I’ll make you a special gift. But until then, you’ll have to be patient.”
The crow paused, his feathers fluffing up in contemplation, then he nodded in agreement, settling down and admiring himself in his gilded mirror. I couldn't help but chuckle again, bemused by his vanity. When had Zosimos become so conscious of his appearance?
“Maybe you’re just a little too proud of that perch,” I teased, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. “You weren’t always this vain, you know.”
Zosimos fluffed his feathers again, puffing himself up as if to assert his newfound stature. It was amusing, really. In the past, Zosimos had always exhibited a certain arrogance, but there was something different about him now. He’d become more personable, or perhaps, it was because of our deepened bond which allowed more of his personality to shine through.
I shook my head at the crow who was cooing to himself in the mirror, refocusing my thoughts on the issue at hand, my gaze darting around as I took stock of my surroundings—or rather, the lack thereof. The void stretched before me, vast and empty, with only the two of us occupying the space. I had created and destroyed countless landscapes, trying to find the perfect setting for my creations. But none of them had felt quite right. They lacked depth and substance, mere shells of what I was striving for.
"What am I missing?" I whispered, frustration gnawing at me once more. "There has to be something else, something I am overlooking or not understanding."
"Ca-ak."
I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "I know, I know, I'm overthinking things, but I can't help it. It's just who I am. I need to analyze and evaluate, break everything down into its components and examine each aspect. That's how I learn, that's how I solve problems. But right now, I'm coming up blank."
Zosimos shook his head and fluffed his wings, clearly unimpressed by my reasoning.
"It's not like you have any better ideas," I shot back, scowling at him.
"Caw-krk."
"Alright, alright," I said, shifting in my seat. "Let's think about it a bit more, shall we?" I leaned forward, resting my chin on my palm with my elbow propped on the armrest. "How do worlds come into existence, Zos?"
Ruffling his feathers, Zosimos tilted his head and let out another soft caw.
"Exactly," I nodded in agreement. "It’s usually through some divine creator or cosmic event. Many creation stories exist, ranging from scientific to religious and mythological," I continued, gazing into the darkness. "One theory suggests that the universe originated from a big bang, with matter condensing from that event to form planets, stars, and galaxies. Another theory posits that the universe is an infinite tapestry, constantly woven and unwoven, with each new thread creating a new reality, dimension, or universe. Then there's the religious perspective, where a divine being brought everything into existence, including time, space, and the laws of nature."
Zosimos cawed in agreement, strutting along his perch, pacing back and forth as his head bobbed in thought.
"Across all these stories, a few concepts consistently emerge, with balance at the forefront," I mused. "In everything, there's a push and pull, a give and take, a light and dark. For every positive action, there's a negative one, and vice versa. According to supersymmetry, for every particle, there is a partner particle. This balance of nature forms the core of the universe."
Understanding and applying the principles of balance held the key to shaping this world. The elements of life—earth, water, air, and fire—came to mind as fundamental forces, but I recognized they were merely the foundations for more complex systems.
I gazed out upon the expanse of my Prima Materia, thinking back to the various theories and philosophies of the origin of life. They were all concepts revered in different ways across countless cultures and traditions. In each case, the beginning was the same—a force, a spark, a source of life and power.
In alchemy, it was the Quintessence or aether, the primordial substance from which all life and energy stemmed. It was the universal solvent, the binding agent that united and transformed all things. In physics, it was the Big Bang, the initial explosion from which the universe emerged. In religion, it was the will of a higher being or force, the divine creation. In all, it was the spark of creation, the origin point from which everything else sprang. The anima mundi, the world soul. The Great Work.
And in Kaledon, that force was mana.
"Mana," I whispered, my eyes widening with realization. "That's what's missing. Mana is the Quintessence, the aether, the spark of life."
I had been so focused on the physical aspects, on creating objects and structures, that I overlooked the fundamental concept of mana and how it fueled and powered the world. It was a vital aspect, one that should have been the starting point.
Mana was as fundamental as food, air, and water, the very lifeblood that animated existence. Every being possessed a mana core, an intrinsic source of magical energy as unique as a fingerprint and as vital as the pulse of life itself. This core defined not only their capabilities but also their essence and evolution.
For the mages, mana was a sacred tool, a source of power to be harnessed and shaped to their will. They mastered the control and manipulation of mana, channeling it into spells and rituals with both wondrous and devastating effects. Meanwhile, those who practiced body cultivation used mana to enhance their physical abilities—strength, agility, and endurance—transforming themselves into formidable fighters. On the other hand, Healers utilized mana to mend wounds and cure ailments. Through mana weaving, they boosted the body's natural healing and cleansed it of toxins. Skilled healers could even stimulate regeneration, repairing damaged skin tissue and organs with their mana.
It didn't stop there, either. Everyone, from the gods to the rats scurrying about in the innkeeper's cellar, tapped into mana to some degree. Some might possess a stronger core than others, but even those without any training were connected to the world's vital currents. In Kaledon, mana wasn't just a force to wield. It was a living essence. The world consisted of a delicate interplay of mana flows, and the pursuit of mana served as both a catalyst for progress and a crucible for conflict.
While some chose to follow a peaceful path, meditating to align with mana's natural flow and absorbing it naturally, others pursued power through conflict, driven by the desire for faster gains. Although this method promised a quick increase in mana reserves, it also posed dangers, with the risk of death and the subsequent loss of accumulated mana. But many saw it as a small price to pay for the immense potential benefits. After all, in Kaledon, death was not permanent unless one's core was destroyed, and even then, it was not the end—just a chance for reincarnation and another try at life in a new form.
For most lesser creatures, once the physical body decayed, their core would be drawn toward a place of power, often a dungeon or a sacred site like a nesting ground or den. In these mana-dense places, the core absorbed ambient mana, growing stronger and denser over time. Eventually, if left undisturbed, the core would gather enough ambient mana to reform its physical body.
For sentient beings, there were a few more options. We could either follow the natural path of lesser creatures or bind our core to a god, entering into pacts that promised swifter restorations for a price. Each option had its pros and cons, leaving the decision to personal choice.
Following the natural path, it could take weeks or even months for the core to fully absorb the ambient mana needed to restore a person’s physical form. However, once complete, their mana core's essence remained intact. This meant a slower revival, but one retained the same level and capabilities they had at the time of death.
In contrast, entering a pact provided immediate restoration once the body faded, taking minutes or hours depending on one's personal power level. The downside was the price paid to the god who restored you. Some gods, benevolent by nature, demanded only a small amount of mana from your core in return, while others were less generous. Celeste, the goddess of new beginnings, was the most popular choice for such pacts, asking for only a small sacrifice in exchange for revival. However, the time it took to revive was longer compared to other gods who offered a quicker rebirth but required more substantial sacrifices.
When I became the high priestess of Trismegistus, my mana core was bound to him—but it turned out to be more of a burden than a blessing. With Celeste, I could easily visit her numerous shrines and designate any of them as my resurrection point. Trismegistus, however, had only one temple, perched atop a mountain, making it an inconvenient choice. There were resurrection tokens that would allow me to designate a revive point away from a temple or shrine, but Tris refused to outright give me one. He was also being stingy when it came to providing me with the needed materials to create one for myself.
It was a frustrating predicament. I often found myself wishing I had chosen a different path—one that allowed for a little more freedom. Not that Tris had really given me a choice in the first place. Each time I thought of the high priestess responsibilities I had taken on, a mix of pride and exasperation washed over me. I did enjoy certain aspects of the position, but the sheer amount of work required to maintain the temple and organize everything was exhausting. It was intruding on my enjoyment of being an alchemist.
Zosimos cawed softly, pulling me from my thoughts. He stared at me with an expectant look, as if he could sense the flow of my thoughts shifting. "Right... Mana," I said, looking back at him. "We were discussing mana and how it fuels and powers the world."
The crow nodded in agreement, pacing along his perch, his tail feathers flicking impatiently.
"I need to infuse the objects I create with the same life force that animated everything around me. It is clear that merely thinking them into existence is not enough, it leaves them-" I paused, searching for the right word, "incomplete. Without mana, there is no life. And without life, my creations are merely illusions of reality."
Illusions... I sat up straight, eyes widening in realization. That's what it was! My creations were illusions. They lacked the weight, the substance, the authenticity of true life. Illusion was a school of magic that relied on perceptual manipulation, a common skill among kitsune, and one I had yet to fully master. But that was exactly what I'd been doing, creating perceptually realistic illusions.
"I'm an idiot," I groaned in frustration, running a hand through my hair. "Zos, can you believe it took me this long to realize?"
"Caw-caw-w-k," he crooned, tilting his head and gazing at me with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
I glared at him. "Yeah, well, you didn't realize it until now either," I huffed, crossing my arms.
"Caw-ack," Zosimos cackled in response, clearly amused by the situation.
"Yes, yes," I sighed. "I know it seems obvious now, but I didn't realize it at the time."
Zosimos hopped down from his perch, fluttering his wings and landing on the armrest of my chair. He strutted along the edge, bobbing his head and peering up at me. "Caw-a-w-k," he squawked.
"That's right," I said, smiling wryly. "Now, we need to figure out how to imbue my creations with mana."
The crow tilted his head and looked up at me curiously, his dark eyes shining with a keen intelligence. "Caw-aw."
Yet again, the answer was obvious. It was so simple that I wanted to slap myself for not seeing it sooner.
Transmutation, a practice as ancient as the world itself and fundamentally tied to the essence of creation.
As an alchemist, I was well-versed in the principles of transformation, but it hadn't occurred to me to apply them to my current situation. I was caught up in the idea of this place being a reflection of my subconscious and assumed it would operate like a dream. But if it was a place of creation, it was not a dream, but a manifestation of the primal forces that governed the world. It was also likely a system that Tris developed, and thus, it would, of course, operate on the principles of his domains.
The process of transmutation was complex and multifaceted, but at its core, it was a shift in the structure and properties of an object or substance, often achieved through the use of a transmutation array. It could also be done without an array, simply through the manipulation of mana. Although, that required either a transmutation amulet or the mage possessing mana attuned to the specific element or material being altered.
So, how could I apply these principles to my situation? Maybe I should attempt a basic array first, to see if it would work? If it did, at least I would know I was on the right track.
"The create water array is simple enough. I'll start with that one," I declared, reaching for one of the notebooks I'd created. Sure, it was only the illusion of a notebook, but it was better than nothing and it would help me organize my thoughts.
Zosimos tilted his head at me, his black eyes glinting. "Caw-w-caa," he trilled, bobbing his head in agreement.
It didn't take long to complete the array since it was one of the most basic forms of transmutation, however, as I tore the page from the notebook and placed it on the ground, I realized I was missing one critical component.
"I'm missing a source of water for the catalyst," I said, staring down at the page with a frown.
To activate the transmutation circle, I needed a drop of water to kickstart the process. This was rather ironic given the intended effect. But without it, the array would remain inactive.
"Caw," Zosimos crowed, eyeing me expectantly.
"Ew," I said, wrinkling my nose. "I'm not going to spit on it, Zos. That's disgusting."
He squawked and fluttered his wings, hopping from one foot to the other.
"Fine, fine," I sighed, licking my finger before pressing it against the array and invoking the activation phrase, "create water."
The array shimmered for a moment before a small puddle of water formed in the center. The puddle grew rapidly, expanding outward until it encompassed the entire array, leaving me standing on a small, soggy patch of rug as the array degraded and disappeared.
"Well, at least it worked," I muttered, scowling at my wet boots. As I stared at my feet, a nagging thought crossed my mind—those boots, along with the rest of my clothes, were also illusionary constructs. I quickly shoved the thought aside. That was not something I wanted to think about. Not right now, anyway.
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Zosimos fluttered onto the armrest of my chair and eyed the puddle of water with interest. "Ca-w-kr," he warbled, bobbing his head back and forth.
"Yes, you're right," I replied, sighing. The water was an experiment, and while it was successful, it wasn't a definitive test.
Moving back to the desk, I flopped down in the chair and gazed out at the expanse before me. It was clear the key to unlocking the potential of this place lay in transmutation, but beyond that, I wasn't sure how to proceed. As I pondered my next step, Zosimos hopped on the table and began preening his feathers.
"You're not helpful at all, you know," I grumbled, watching him groom himself.
"Ca-w-k," he squawked in reply, ruffling his feathers and peering up at me.
With a sigh, I stood and began pacing back and forth, wracking my brain for ideas. Ultimately, the goal was to create an inner domain, a private world of my own. But how was I supposed to achieve that?
The answer was transmutation, but I needed to focus on the details. If I were to transmute the essence of the void, what would it become? How did I create a world? I mean, it wasn't like there was a 'world creation array' or anything like that. Then again, maybe there was.
As I paced the perimeter of the thick crimson rug, I recalled the core principle of transmutation: transformation. It wasn't merely about altering the physical state of matter but about understanding and manipulating the very essence of what something is. This applied to both physical substances and abstract concepts.
In the grand cosmic scheme, the Big Bang wasn't just an explosion. It was a monumental act of transmutation. Energy coalesced into matter, creating the foundational building blocks of the universe. This was the ultimate act of transformation, setting the stage for everything that followed. I needed to harness a similar concept for the void before me.
I stopped pacing and looked around the dark expanse. What did I want this place to be? I wanted a space where I could work, create, and explore. A world where I could shape and bend reality to my will, free from the limitations and constraints of the outside world. But how to begin?
I lifted my hand, gazing at the transmutation amulet melded into the flesh of my palm. Its surface shimmered like polished gold, the intricate design seamlessly integrated with my flesh. It was slightly raised, almost like a brand, but despite the realistic feel of the metal and gemstones, they did not impede movement or sensation in any way. This transmutation amulet was an artifact bestowed on me by Trismegistus, and through it, I could manipulate various elements as each point was attuned to a different one. But that wouldn’t help me with the void, would it?
It was then that I had a flash of inspiration. The transmutation amulet was not simply a tool for channeling and manipulating mana. It was also a conduit between my mana core and the base elements. In this void, the energy flow wasn't attuned to any one element. It was a raw, untamed force. What it needed was attunement, a bridge, a way to connect it with a combination of all elements.
But how? I sighed, gazing down at the amulet that was indelibly fused upon my left palm. It would have been nice if Tris left me with a guide or instruction manual or something. But he didn't, so all I could do was muddle through.
As I pondered the amulet that decorated my palm, a faint idea began to form. The amulet was not just a tool for channeling and manipulating mana but also for binding it to an element. It was bound to me, fused into my body, and attuned to my mana core. If this was an inner world, and I, in my current sense of self, was merely a projection of my subconscious, then wouldn't my mana core, or at least its essence, also exist here?
No... Hadn't Rainy mentioned her grove could act as a power source for her? She could draw power from her grove as a reserve of mana if her core was depleted, but if too much mana was drawn, her grove would start to die. That implied the grove itself had its own source of mana. If that was the case, didn't that also imply this void had its own source of mana?
I paced back and forth, my mind racing as the idea took hold. This place, whatever it was, had the potential to become a private world, a sanctuary, and a power source. But it required not just the transmutation of the void's essence, but also an attunement and a source of mana, or rather a means to store and harness it.
If my theory was correct, the void's essence was a pure form of energy with no specific attunement. However, to attune it, I needed something akin to my transmutation amulet. I looked down at my hand again. This was my means of attunement. With these stones, I could channel and manipulate the elements, using them to create and transmute. The void, however, was a source of untamed energy and needed its own means of attunement.
"Do you think," I asked, glancing at Zosimos, "that I could condense the mana in the void into elemental cores? If so, could I use those cores to create a massive transmutation amulet that harnesses the void's power like my amulet harnesses my own?"
"Ca-caw," he squawked, his wings fluttering as he preened his feathers.
"Mm," I hummed in agreement. There was no telling if my theory was correct, but it was a starting point. The question I now faced was how to turn the void's essence into a condensed core.
Then again, I already knew how to do that, didn't I? Kitsune possessed the ability to create wisp cores by condensing the excess mana their cores generated. These cores not only allowed the kitsune to summon a wisp but also acted as a power reserve.
So, what was stopping me from doing the same thing here? Nothing, except for the fact that it required the one thing I struggled with most.
Meditation.
-
The practice of meditation always evoked mixed feelings in me—it promised profound insight and self-improvement, but never quite fulfilled my expectations. My attempts at meditation were sporadic at best. I tried it countless times over the years, believing it to be an essential mental exercise that might enhance my studious nature. Yet, it always felt like a waste of time.
It wasn’t that I couldn't sit still. On the contrary, I spent many hours studying and reading, often finding complete silence and the pages of a book profoundly relaxing. However, meditation demanded a level of mental focus beyond my grasp. It required a different kind of discipline—one I found challenging to master. I simply couldn't quiet my mind, no matter how hard I tried. My thoughts were relentless, and no amount of breathing helped. When I read, my mind was engaged, actively working, which meditation seemed to lack.
I wasn't opposed to meditation. I wanted it to work but couldn't align my mind with the practice in any meaningful way. I explored various forms of meditation to improve my mental capability. I began with basic mindfulness meditation, sitting quietly and focusing on my breath. I tried counting each inhale and exhale, concentrating solely on the sensation of air entering and leaving my lungs. However, my mind inevitably wandered toward unsolved problems or unfinished projects.
I also experimented with guided meditation, following a voice through scripts designed to help me visualize calming scenes or imagine serene environments. I listened to recordings of soothing narrations, picturing peaceful landscapes or imagining myself floating among clouds. These methods offered temporary reprieves, but soon my mind wandered, and I lost focus.
Eventually, I gave up. The whole practice was frustrating and disappointing, and I accepted that it wasn't for me. Instead, I focused on other mental exercises and activities that sharpened my mind, like solving puzzles and engaging in academic pursuits requiring problem-solving skills and analytical thinking.
In Kaledon, meditation became important again. It wasn't just a means of centering myself or calming my nerves. It was essential, a skill vital for my progression as a mage. Even non-magic users practicing body cultivation engaged in a form of meditation, focusing on circulating mana throughout their bodies.
With a sigh, I realized that my meditation practice—or lack thereof—was a stumbling block. Meditation was crucial not only for focusing my mind but also for channeling and transforming mana. It wasn't just a means of relaxation but a vital component of magical practice and cultivation.
Up to this point, it had required only a minimal amount of meditative focus to absorb ambient mana from fallen foes and create my first two wisp cores. But more recently, I noticed that the more powerful and skilled my opponents were, the more difficult it was to absorb their mana. Even absorbing it from lower-level creatures became less efficient. It was clear that I needed to refine my abilities and improve my control over mana, and unfortunately for me, meditation was the key to achieving that.
Settling on the edge of the crimson rug, far from the wet patch I caused with the water array, I folded my legs and placed my hands on my knees. One might think it would be easier to focus in this place, with no distractions or intrusions. However, for me, it only made it easier for my thoughts to wander.
Zosimos settled down on his golden perch, tilting his head and peering at me with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Don't watch me," I muttered, feeling my cheeks flush.
He cawed in response, tucking his beak under his wing.
I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to find my center. I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and focusing on the feeling of air filling and leaving my lungs. In, out, in, out. My breathing gradually slowed, but I struggled to rein in my thoughts.
How much time had passed since I came to this place? Did time even pass here? And if it did, was it the same or different than outside? These were questions that had plagued me since my arrival. I wondered what had happened to my body? Was I still standing out on the wall? Or did Tris move me to my quarters?
And then there were the ponderings of the nature of this place and what it was I thought to achieve. Did I even need to create elemental cores? Yes? Yes, I needed elements to create the foundations of my world, but did it really require condensing the mana of the void into elemental cores? Was that even possible?
No, no, stop it! I chastised myself. Focus.
In, out, in, out.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing, the bubbling of the caldrons, the steady drip from the retort, the crackle of the flames.
Focus. Feel the flow of power, the rush of mana, the subtle pulse and vibration in the air.
In, out, in, out.
Should I draw the mana into myself? As I did when creating a wisp core? No, that wasn't right, I wanted to condense an external core, one that wasn't connected to me. Or would it be connected to me regardless? Wasn't this place essentially a part of me?
"Oh, for the love of-"
Zosimos lifted his head and cawed softly.
"Yes, yes, I know. Focus."
In, out, in, out.
Feel the flow, the pulse, the vibration.
The air was thick with mana. I could feel it buzzing, humming, pulsing, like an electric current. It was raw and untamed, a swirling mass of energy waiting to be harnessed. It felt different from what I was used to. It was pure and unfettered, an unbridled force. I'd never felt so much mana in one place before, not even in the dungeon I'd visited.
I should take some time to do that again soon. I needed to expand my mana core, and there was no better place than a dungeon for it. I was sure my team was also starting to grow bored of being in town. Plus, Corvus and Marcus would be arriving soon with the guild's hunting teams, as they were rotating out for a rest period after the war with the Primordial Brotherhood. The plan was for Corvus and Marcus to stay at the new guild hall on Pyros Mountain, while Darius and Noctus would lead the teams rotating into active duty through a nearby dungeon. Or at least that had been the plan before Tris decided I needed to conquer a damned city.
I took a deep breath and slowly released it, trying to clear my mind, but it simply wouldn't stop wandering. My thoughts kept coming back to the same questions and doubts. The longer I sat, the more restless I became. I struggled to control my wandering thoughts, and it seemed impossible to focus on anything. Frustration was beginning to set in, and I was close to giving up.
A groan escaped my lips, and I flopped backward, sprawling out on the thick rug and almost crushing my tails in the process.
"I can't do this," I said, staring up at the dark expanse above me. "Do you think if I make a world with illusions instead, Tris might be fooled enough to let us out?"
Zosimos gave a low warble, and I could feel him looking at me with a mixture of pity and amusement.
"If this is my subspace, I should be able to leave whenever I want, right? Stupid Tris," I grumbled.
"Ca-krr."
"That isn't helpful," I replied, turning my head scowling at him. "At least offer some advice or support."
"Caw-a-w."
With a sigh, I sat up, propping my elbows on my knees, and rested my chin on my folded hands. "I've been trying to visualize the process, Zos, but it's not working. My mind just wanders."
"Kak-ka."
"No, it's not about having a reference point," I argued. "It's about having a frame of mind. That's what I'm lacking. My thoughts are going in circles, and it's driving me crazy."
"Cawk."
"Really, Zos?" I scoffed. "'Make circles then?' That's your sage advice?" Zosimos was a familiar presence, and his constant companionship made the endless expanse of the void more bearable, but sometimes, he could be downright infuriating.
Zosimos fluttered his wings and let out a series of caws.
"I see," I mused, mulling over his suggestion.
He might actually be onto something with this idea. It was true that when I was absorbed in a task, my mind quieted, and my thoughts became more focused and centered. And his suggestion to work on a transmutation array as a means of meditating had merit. After all, weren't transmutation arrays based on the mandalas of old, with their intricate geometric patterns and symbols? Mandalas were said to be tools for focusing the mind, a way to create a sense of structure and balance within oneself. While transmutation arrays served to focus mana to achieve a desired effect, the concept was fundamentally the same.
"You may be right," I murmured, glancing down at the transmutation amulet etched into my hand, recalling the array used to create similar amulets. Those arrays required elementally attuned mana cores as catalysts, and my original idea had been to form those cores in much the same way I created wisp cores from the mana within my own body, but what if I could use an array to condense the mana of the void into a core, rather than doing it myself?
I wasn't an expert in transmutation arrays, but I understood the process enough to have a starting point. With a renewed sense of purpose, I moved to the desk and began sketching a transmutation array in my notebook. As I meticulously drew the intricate patterns and symbols, my mind became engrossed in the task. Each line, curve, and symbol represented a crucial component of the transmutation process. The array needed to be precise and adaptable to the raw, untamed energy of the void.
I started with the basic circle structure, which formed the Foundation Circle. This core circle was essential for establishing spatial boundaries and defining the transmutation parameters. It had to be perfectly drawn to ensure containment and stability. Without this fundamental base, the transmutation would be chaotic and uncontrollable. Within the Foundation Circle was the Internal Focus Circle—a set of lines that limited effects to the internal space. This was crucial for creating or altering materials within a specific area, allowing for precise control and focus.
For larger-scale effects that needed to spread across surfaces or environments beyond the immediate area, I used the External Projection Circle. This circle extended outward from the Foundation Circle, covering a larger area. It was useful for effects requiring a broader influence, allowing the transmutation to interact with its surroundings on a grander scale.
Another important aspect was the Directional Arcs. These were arcs or shapes projecting outward from the Foundation Circle without forming an enclosed area. They were ideal for directing energy or creating focused beams. By using Directional Arcs, I could channel the transmutation effects in specific directions, achieving more precise outcomes.
Consumption Nodes were another critical component. These smaller circles surrounded the main circle and consumed material as part of the reaction. They were used for reactions that required converting material into energy or altering its state. The matter consumed by these nodes became part of the final product, making them essential for complex transformations.
To power the transmutation, I needed Power Nodes. These were external rings or conduits connected to the main circle that drew in ambient mana from the surroundings. By enhancing the transmutation with Power Nodes, I could convert ambient mana into the energy required for the reaction. The dynamic and replenishable nature of ambient mana made it an ideal power source for my creations.
Beyond the basic structure, the Elemental and Metaphysical Framework provided symbols and concepts for more advanced transmutations. For instance, Elemental Convergence Symbols represented the basic elements and their interactions. Ignis for fire, Aeris for air, Terra for earth, and Aqua for water were crucial for manipulating the fundamental forces of nature.
Metaphysical Convergence Symbols were equally important for abstract concepts and advanced transmutations. Vita represented life and vitality, Mortis signified death and decay, Tempus dealt with time and temporal effects, Etheris for spiritual interactions, and Mana for magical manipulations.
To enhance the complexity and power of the transmutation, I used Circle Enhancements and Modifiers, while Reinforcement Layers such as the Stabilizing Layer, Converging Layer, and Redirecting Layer supported and controlled the reaction. These layers ensured that the transmutation remained steady, focused, and properly directed.
Finally, the Transmutation Matrix was an overlay of interlocking geometric patterns and symbols that enhanced the sophistication of the transmutation. It facilitated multi-dimensional effects and complex combinations of elemental and metaphysical forces.
Lacking any concept of time, I had no way of knowing how long I spent working on my transmutation array—hours, perhaps even days, slipped away as I poured my energy and focus into this intricate design. Eventually, a sense of finality washed over me, and I knew I had finished.
Before me was an elaborate, detailed, and sophisticated array, the likes of which I had never seen before. The array itself was a mesmerizing tapestry of patterns and symbols, each line and curve a testament to my theoretical understanding and practical skills in the art of transmutation.
Now, the real question was, would it work?
As I looked at the finished array, a sense of unease crept over me. There were countless ways for it to fail, and even if it worked, it might not produce the desired result. I traced my fingers over the delicate designs, searching for any signs of flaws or inconsistencies, but none were evident.
"Caw-k," Zosimos trilled, ruffling his feathers as he peered at me.
"I know, Zos," I sighed, gazing at the array with a frown. "This could be a colossal waste of time, but if nothing else, I've improved my array-drawing skills."
Zosimos cocked his head to the side and squawked softly.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "There's no point in wasting time second-guessing myself when I haven't even tested it."
The array was as complete as it would ever be, and all that was left was to perform the first test.
Leaving my little corner of illusionary creation, I walked out into the void, Zosimos on my shoulder.
"Alright, Zos," I said, gazing out at the expanse. "Here goes nothing."
Kneeling down, I placed the paper containing my array on the ground, smoothing the edges with my fingertips. Then, taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the flow of energy, the subtle pulse and vibration in the air. This array didn't have an activation phrase, so initially I would have to manually channel mana through it, directing the void's energy toward the powder nodes that would ignite and initiate the transmutation.
The flow of mana was slow and unsteady at first, as I struggled to direct the chaotic force toward the array. However, as I adjusted my focus and refined my control, the energy gradually increased, flowing steadily and without obstruction.
As the energy built, I channeled it into the array, activating the nodes one by one, and gradually, I sensed a subtle shift. The void’s chaotic essence seemed to respond to the array’s structure, aligning with the elemental and metaphysical symbols. It was as though the array was creating a bridge between the raw energy of the void and the structured, attuned energy required for transmutation.
With each breath, I guided the void's energy into the array's Power Nodes. I visualized the energy flowing through the Directional Arcs, seeing it as a stream of raw potential carefully molded and directed by the symbols. The Internal Focus Circle glowed softly, and I imagined it shaping the chaotic energy into something coherent and stable.
The Elemental and Metaphysical Convergence Symbols radiated a gentle light, their energies converging and mingling. This fusion of elemental forces was crucial for balancing the raw essence of the void to create a stable, condensed mana core. I held the image of the array in my mind's eye, ensuring the process remained precise. My focus needed to be as structured as the array itself, each thought aligned with the symbols and their purpose. Despite my previous struggles with meditation, the array's intricate nature helped me concentrate, offering a clear path to follow as I helped guide the mana through the array.
Time felt distorted within the void. What might have been minutes or hours passed in an endless flow of focused effort. The transmutation array’s Power Nodes absorbed the void's raw energy, and the Consumption Nodes converted this energy into a more refined form. I felt the transformation occur as if the very fabric of the void was woven into a new structure.
Then a shift occurred—a moment where the void's energy aligned perfectly with the array's structure. The core was forming. The sensation was both exhilarating and taxing, like the culmination of a long journey reaching its destination. I kept my focus steady, maintaining the flow and balance of the energies to ensure the condensed mana core was stable and functional.
The array's symbols brightened, and the energy within the Foundation Circle solidified into a tangible form. The core began to take shape, a luminous orb of condensed mana, glowing with the combined essence of the void and the attuned elements. This was the result of my intense focus and the successful melding of the void’s chaotic essence with the elemental balance I envisioned. It was a pure mana core, the first of the five cores I aimed to create.
"I did it," I whispered, gazing at the glowing orb. "I made a mana core."
"Caw-ck-rrr," Zosimos replied, ruffling his feathers.
"Don't be such a killjoy," I said, giving him a light nudge. "We're finally making progress."
"Caw-rrk," he trilled, giving a small flap of his wings.
"Of course, I know we're not done yet. But this is a huge step in the right direction," I insisted, pointing at the core which was glowing with a soft, radiant light. It was about the size of a large apple, its light fluctuating gently as if it were breathing.
"Cawk," Zosimos chirped, giving me an amused look.
"Yes, I know we need four more and those will be harder, but this proves my theory is sound."
I reached out, touching the core. It was cool and smooth, a perfect sphere of condensed mana. My fingers tingled when they touched the orb, and I could feel the energy within.
My initial success with this first core was promising, but the real challenge lay ahead. The next cores would need to incorporate additional elements and metaphysical symbols, demanding even more precision and control. But now, I had a starting point and a proven method of forming the cores.
This was just the beginning.