19 – Consultation

“You were a dragon?” Victor asked. He wasn’t surprised to find that the geist had originated from one of the elder species. She spoke of her life in terms of eons, and the gravity of her Energy, even in her much-depleted state as a geist, was notable. The aura from the spirit in the bone reminded him of other momentous beings he’d met—Chantico, Azforath, Crystal. The geist didn’t have anything near their power, but still, there was a certain quality to her aura that spoke of primordial weight.

“I was, and yet my memories of that time are a blur. I’m not sure I’d call myself one any longer, master.”

“You can cut the ‘master’ shit,” Victor growled, sliding off the stool and standing up from his workbench.

“I mean no offense; in my experience, those who captured spirits tended to desire subservience.”

“I thought you didn’t remember your life?”

“I remember it, but it feels more like a plot that I read than something I lived through—other than when I focus on my torments and those that I caused others to feel. No, those memories are far too lived-in to feel vague.”

Victor carried the bone with him as he walked back to his parlor and the sitting area near his balcony. When he’d sat down, kicking his feet up onto an ottoman, he asked, “So, am I supposed to just accept the assurances of a geist that she’s reformed? You’ve no lingering desire to cause fear and terror and attempt to feed off the fruits of those efforts?”

“No, I would not trust me—not if I were a geist.”

Victor tilted his head, frowning as he looked out the open doors to the slopes of Iron Mountain. The geist didn’t break the silence, so he assumed she wanted him to feel her revelation had been momentous. The truth was that Victor had assumed she’d broken out of her “geist” stage before they’d met; it was why she had the wherewithal to speak to him and offer to bind herself to the prison Lo’ro had crafted.

“You mastered the torment of your fear affinity; you’re a thinking, rational spirit again. I figured that much, but it doesn’t explain your presence on that plane of torment, nor your appearance—a fountain of black Energy, utterly permeated by an aura of fear.”

Her sibilant whisper came to him after a while, though it sounded smaller, almost as if she was withdrawing as she spoke. “I was rational, but I’m still not satisfied with my penance. I lingered there, whispering to the other spirits—soothing words for those afflicted with rage or terror, guilt or loss.”

“And yet, you wanted to enter my service?” Victor frowned, shaking his head.

“Do you remember my first words to you?”

Victor searched his memory, but it was blurry. “Something about our shared affinity.”

“That’s right! I said I sensed a kindred fear in your heart! That was true! I recognized in you the potential for fear and terror that would have rivaled my own. I saw in you the chance to save not one, but potentially millions of bright spirits.”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “You wanted to save me?”

The spirit’s voice came to him from a great depth, faint and echoing. “Yes, and all those you would destroy with the mountainous terror dwelling in your heart.” The voice paused for a second, then added, “I must rest—”

“I’ve mastered my fear,” Victor growled, squeezing the bone.

“I understand that now. There’s more you could learn, but that familiar, cutting fear in your Core is far tamer than when we first met. You’ve turned the corner, walking the path I turned away from. Now, rather than merely hoping to help you, I also hope to learn from you.” Again, there came a short pause before the spirit begged, “Please, ma-Victor, may I rest? I’ve lain silent for so long; this conversation—”

“Fine, rest, Wynn…” Victor trailed off, struggling to pronounce the dragon’s full name.

“Wynnla is sufficient.”

“I’ll speak with you again in a few hours. I have something important to discuss with you, and I’m starting to feel some pressure.”

Victor felt his connection to the former geist fade and sent the bone to wait for him in his spirit space. He hadn’t been exaggerating; he was starting to feel pressured by all the promises he’d made and the confrontations awaiting him. He could stall, but every minute he managed to relax was overshadowed by ten minutes of worry. He wanted to resolve his current conflicts and obligations so that he could have a minute in his life where he didn’t feel that weight pressing on him.

Since his time with the geist had been cut short, he decided to spend the evening working on spell patterns. Over the years, during his conquest of Dark Ember, he’d drafted hundreds of patterns for elder magic upgrades to many of his more mundane, System-origin spells. It was a project he’d only worked on occasionally, when the strain of working on his mantle was too much, and when the war efforts didn’t require his direct attention.

One of the patterns he was most proud of was at the top of his notes, and he held it up for another careful review. If he found something wrong or, more likely, imperfect, he’d rewrite the pattern, and it wouldn’t be the first time—the one he held was the ninety-third iteration of the spell. It was designed to combine the elements of the System-origin spells, Channel Spirit, Project Spirit, and Imbue Spirit. He’d built them all into a far more versatile spell design that worked on the same principle as his Core Domain spell.

It was hugely complicated, and there were elements of the pattern that were entirely experimental; Victor had never seen them in use in any of the texts he’d managed to collect on the subject. Still, his careful review, which took several hours, didn’t reveal any flaws. He set the pattern down, considering which of his other designs he’d next inspect, but then his unquiet mind began to whisper at him, reminding him of the many clocks counting down—obligations of one kind or another.

“Chingado,” he hissed, picking up the first pattern again. He’d told himself that he’d make the spells perfect before he used them. He’d told himself that it was better not to create new elder magic before he had to; it drew eyes he might not want on him at the moment. Well, he was getting close to breaking through the veil, wasn’t he? He was onto something with his Core and his mantle. More than any of that, though, he reminded himself he had some damn hard fights coming up. “What’s the point of waiting?”

Victor grabbed the pattern, walked to the center of his carpet, and, in the shadow of his kindred mountain, he began to build the pattern for the spell in his pathways. He used a thread of inspiration he’d pulled from his hope-attuned Energy, and it moved like a tiny mote of dust trailing a comet’s tail, weaving in and out of itself, looping, bending, and pulling taut. It took Victor several more hours to build the pattern with Energy for the first time, and when he pulled the last thread into place and felt the power in his Core pouring into the spell, he pumped a fist into the air and howled his joy into the night sky.

Then, the Energy froze, and the System spoke to him:

***You have discovered a new spell: Spirit Domain – Legendary.***

***Warning! The spell being cast does not follow System-designed iterations and may be too powerful for you. Proceed at your own risk.***

***Warning! Non-System spell pattern detected! You will only receive this warning one time. Do you wish to halt this process? YES/NO.***

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Victor grinned. It had been a while since he’d seen that message. “You know, you shouldn’t say that about only receiving the warning once, ’cause you say it every time I do a spell like this.”

Of course, the System, if it were listening to him for anything other than a “yes” or “no”, didn’t respond. He knew it would ask him again, though, if he didn’t say anything, so he bided his time, wondering if the spell would work exactly as he’d planned or if it would have some surprises for him.

***Do you wish to halt this process? YES/NO.***

“No,” he relented, feeling as though he’d won a small victory by predicting the System’s behavior. As the Energy surged out of his Core again, flowing into the spell pattern, the world around him began to glow with otherworldly radiance. Every detail of everything in his field of view was there. He could stare at a moth on his balcony, then see its tiny hairs, then see the skin where the hairs were sprouting, and then see the impossibly small cells making up the skin—

“What the hell?” Victor cried, interrupting his strange vision. He blinked, then noticed how he could hear every sound in his vicinity—his breathing, the bugs and night birds, the distant clang of a goat’s collar bell. Victor shook his head, not getting lost in the details again, and then it clicked for him: his spell’s design was unfolding perfectly. This was his spirit domain. He was aware of everything in it, and he could influence those things with his spirit.

He could project positive and negative emotions, and he could enhance weapons or people. The more influencing he did, the more Energy he’d pull from his Core. It was a combination of his three old spells with exponentially enhanced possibilities. “And it’s legendary

!” Pride swelled in his chest as he savored the accomplishment. True, it had taken him years—but he’d learned so much in the process!

He realized the System had sent him more messages, so he read them:

***You have learned a new spell: Spirit Domain – Legendary.***

***Spirit Domain – Legendary: You have learned to impose your spirit upon reality, infusing the environment with your very essence. By channeling your Energy, you may extend awareness through your domain, influence the emotions and resolve of all beings within, and strengthen chosen allies or implements with your spirit. The greater the range and intensity of influence, the greater the Energy cost.***

***Warning! This spell is not System-designed! Use it with caution—there are no safeguards in place. This is the only time you will receive this warning!***

***Notice! This spell makes certain System-generated spells redundant. Removing!***

***Notice! You have lost the spell: Channel Spirit – Improved.***

***Notice! You have lost the spell: Project Spirit – Improved.***

***Notice! You have lost the spell: Imbue Spirit – Improved.***

“Petty,” Victor grunted, not at all surprised. He stretched, twisting his back, then went outside. He leaned on the railing, looking out over the dark duchy. The sky was beginning to gray toward dawn, and he wondered if he ought to follow through on his threat to meet Cora for breakfast, or if he should skip it and try to get the former geist to speak again. Hours had passed, hadn’t they? Surely she’d rested enough to converse a bit.

Impulsively, he began to reach for the spirit-inhabited bone, but he stopped himself as a thought occurred to him. Soon, with or without the help of the Wynnla, he’d be consumed by his attempts to restructure his Core construct and then, hopefully, further work on his mantle. The next few days might become a veritable blur as he became engrossed in the task. Why not enjoy a bit of time with his ward while he still could? He’d take her to breakfast, and at the same time, he’d pass off his appointment book and schedule to her.

With Cora sharing the burden of his obligations, hopefully, she’d grow to understand why he was always busy and why he might struggle to find time for her. More than that, it would give them another excuse to interact, making it easier for them to fit a lesson with her into his schedule here and there. He looked at the sky again and frowned, thumping his knuckles against the balcony railing. “Still hours to kill before breakfast.”

Despite his resolution just moments earlier, Victor reached into his spirit space and withdrew the bone. Holding it in his hand, he said, “Wynnla?”

“I’m here, Victor.”

“I don’t have a lot of time, but I wanted to speak to you briefly. I want to explain the…problem that I’m trying to solve.”

“Something in your tone and the heat of your aura tells me that it’s less of a problem and more of a puzzle.”

“Okay, sure. That’s a better word.” Victor snorted, amused by the distinction. “Did you want a prize for your deduction?”

“I merely seek to measure the appropriate tone of my response—how to consider the type of assistance I might offer.”

Victor thumped the rune-etched bone in his empty palm as he considered her words. When he replied, the mirth had left his tone. “You should consider this puzzle to be very urgent. If I can solve it, the odds of my surviving the next month or so improve significantly. More importantly, my loved ones depend on my success on Sojourn, so, yeah, if I go down, I’m going to make a big, ugly scene about it.”

Wynnla’s disembodied chuckle floated into his mind, and her voice was wryly amused as she asked, “I suppose my surviving such a ‘scene’ is less than guaranteed

?”

“I mean, if I go down on Sojourn, my goal will be to take everyone and everything out with me.” Victor shrugged. “Draw your own conclusions.”

“So, urgency is the word of the hour. Understood. What’s the puzzle you’re working on?”

“Are you familiar with the term veil walker?”

“As I conversed with the mad geists newly arrived in our realm of torment, I learned of the System and the way mortals interact with it. My knowledge was gleaned from snatches of speech and mad ravings, so there may be mistakes in my understanding. As to your question, I believe some use the term to describe those who have ascended through the mortal veil. The System has created a vernacular of levels and tiers, yes?”

“Right. I know that, among dragons, an Elder Dragon would be considered as an equivalent to a veil walker, yeah?”

“Yes, among my kin, age is the greatest determinant of power. As the years pass, the ceiling for the Energy a dragon’s vessel can contain increases.”

“Well, for people like me, in order to breach the veil, it takes something more than age—more than the accumulation of Energy. I have to build a mantle, and that’s a process that’s different for everyone.”

“I’m aware of the concept. I had allies and foes who weren’t dragons.”

“Good. Then I won’t have to worry about your memories being vague, hmm?”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant to imply. I merely wanted to assure you that I understand how the crafting of mantles and piercing the veil is different from species to species, individual to individual.”

Victor waved a hand, dismissing the topic as he watched the sky continue to lighten. He noticed how the night birds had grown silent and the morning quiri birds—fat, round little things—began to warble their morning tune. “It’s not important. I just hope you’ll continue to be honest with me; I’ve learned to mistrust ancient beings.”

“I will keep my motives plain; of that, you have my word. Bind me with a spell if you wish!”

Victor ignored the suggestions and pushed ahead with the earlier topic: “The point I was getting to is that I’m working on my mantle, and I’ve begun to believe that I can improve it by altering the nature of my Core construct.”

“Intriguing! So, you’ve learned that your Energy affinities are integral to your spirit. They come from it, and they feed into it. It’s a cycle.”

“Yeah, so finish the thought. How is that important to my mantle?”

“Because the mantle is rooted in the spirit. Not all people have a Spirit Core, so this connection isn’t the same for them.”

“But you did, didn’t you?”

“You know I did! How else would I become a fear geist?”

“Not all geists were Spirit Casters in life!”

“I assure you that all dragons who become geists were Spirit Casters! No dragon—nor titan, for that matter—would be weak enough to succumb to an emotion so fully. Only if that emotion was immensely powerful, amplified by cultivation and the churning of a Spirit Core.”

“All right, fair enough. I’ll take your word for it. What’s important is that you were a Spirit Caster and you understand the connection between the Energy in my Core and my spirit. I want to build a Core construct that doesn’t filter the Energy through one affinity.”

No response came to Victor for several seconds, and he was about to prompt her in his impatience, but then the spirit began to speak again, softly at first, then with more force, “I understand now. I felt the touch of your hope affinity when you pushed me out of your pathways.” Wynnla’s voice seemed to shift like she moved from Victor’s left to his right. “You’ve developed a construct that filters your fear through your hope. That’s why your fear has lost its bite, is it not? I can show you a potent construct that will increase your strength, but you’ll need to deal with the full force of your fear again. Can you manage that? Has this time without your fear’s influence on your spirit made you stronger—or weaker?”

Victor shuddered at her almost hungry tone. “Which are you hoping for?”

“My desire is as I told you before—to help you and those who might become your victims. For this reason, I ask that you do not change your Core construct. Are you not strong enough already? Is your mantle not potent enough? Do you not already sense the veil?”

Victor inhaled, long and deep, through his nostrils as he looked toward Iron Mountain. He stared at it for several seconds, thinking about Azforath, about Chantico, and about his promise to her. He thought about the people counting on him, and the crazy shit he had planned. After a moment, he cleared his throat and shook his head.

“You know what I want, so think about the best possible design. You should know that, in addition to my fear and hope, I also have a strong rage affinity. In a few hours, I’ll summon you again, and we’ll begin the process.” With that, Victor sent the bone into his spirit space, and then he leaped off the balcony, summoning his wings; he’d take a flight over the mountain’s slopes before he woke Cora.