I’m not sure if I spent the remaining 8 hours productive or not. Most of the time I spent refining my casting if that made sense. Repeating the same spell over, and over. Smoothing out the kinks. I began to add additional things on. It felt strange as I worked. Like one part of me was leaving, or being replaced by another. First I tried to change the shape of the lightning. A 120 foot line of lightning was powerful but if I could change it to be slightly more manageable. Like a cylinder, cone, or ball that would be nice too. I wasn’t always going to have a lot of space to work with, and people didn’t walk single file towards others when attacking.

Instead of firing the bolt from me why not form it upwards, and then have it strike from above. I could get people from behind walls, and other obstacles like that. It was easy casting the thunderbolt straight upwards. The hard part was getting it to come down again. It took a while to figure out, but instead of throwing the bolt up, I seeded the air. I released a cloud of static, and then willed the lightning to strike where I wanted. I had to use hand, gestures and screamed like some idiotic cartoon character, but it helped focus it I swear.

Making a thunderball was similar. Release a cloud of static but keep it more tightly restrained. It was no more effort than the strike from above, I just had to apply force in different parts of the spell.

Shaping spells began to become easier after that. A cage of lightning that electrocuted all those within. A cone of electricity. And a few more, all just varying degrees of control on the single spell I could cast. These were the effects of the mysterious metamagic.

Metamagic didn’t seem to even be a type of magic at all but instead an extra charge of magic in your spell that gave greater control over how it acted. Which was what I did to the Owlbear it seems like.

I had moved onto some more experimentation when Ebony interrupted me. I was agitating the lightning I cast it was extremely draining, but I felt progress was being made.

“Tick Tock, Tick Tock.” Ebony calls, her voice echoes throughout the entire space. “You’ve got about 5 minutes of time in here before you awaken.”

I stretch myself, and yawn. While my physical body has gotten rest my mind hasn’t. I could probably go for another 8 hours of sleep right after this. I could feel my wits straining, especially because of the mental workout I was doing.

I start a light jog through the maze. The walls shifting to open up small holes for me to go through, and closing behind me. Exit through a wall, and in front of Ebonys ‘alter’.

“Just gonna go back to staff form then?” I ask her.

She waves her hand dismissively, “Puh-lease, I just sit inside here all day, and relax. The staff is… cramped for lack of a better term. Piggy backing off your soul is so much better.”

“Well as you don’t mess anything up. Can you send me off a little early?” I ask.

“Are you sure? You are in a deep cycle of sleep right now, if you “move" to your body well… let's say weird shit happens when you are fully conscious in a dream.” Ebony replies.

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem a brother of mine was into lucid dreaming. I was never successful, but I know about it.” I tell her.

She shrugs. “If you say so.” And with a flick of her wrist I’m gone.

I’m blind for a few moments, that all encompassing white replaced with black. The fuzziness fades from my vision, and I look at the plane I’m standing on. Like the opposite side of a coin.

I notice a blemish, in the darkness and move towards it. My feet make an echoing sound along the floor. A garden with chest high hedges, and neat rows of blooming flowers. I hear the clink of china from the center. I walk along a cobbled path, and through an archway covered in flowering vines.

Sitting at a table made of wrought iron is an old reptile like man. It looks like a larger version of a kobold, with the dragon features more pronounced. Inquisitive but tired, copper eyes. Scales chipped, and sagging slightly. Large ridges run over his brow. He glances at me and scans me like someone at a butchers market, would scan a cut of meat. He lifts a cup of tea to his lips and takes a sip, the strong aroma of chamomile wafting towards me.

“It’s been a while since I had a guest.” He says, his voice raspy but measured. “Sit down enjoy some tea.”

A second cup sits opposite him. A jade teapot, with a dragon carved into its side sits on the table.

He pours me a cup, and i take it from him.

“It’s been…” he counts on his fingers. Two extra digits appearing after he runs out of fingers on his hand. “Nearly 28 years since I’ve had company.” He leans backwards into the metal chair.

“Used to be so many of us here, but one by one they vanished. Now it is just I who sits here night after night reminiscing about the old times.”

I sip the tea from the cup, it’s very good.

“What happened to them?” I ask.

His face briefly contorts into a glare at the darkness around us. “Why a man who knew too much. That is what happened. He isn’t here anymore, but you are. I wondered if I would be alive the next time someone joined this soul space, or whether I would focus the rest of my remaining life on making sure the garden did not grow derelict until an inheritor came.”

I tilt my head questioningly. “I thought the soul space was white?”

The old dragonborn nods. “Yes the personal soul space is white. This is the interpersonal soul space. The opposite side of the coin.”

He lifts the pot from the table, revealing a diagram. A large circle with three smaller circles inside. Two of them glow, one a golden colour, the other an electric blue. The smaller ones never overlap. Although they touch each other.

“This is the soul,” He traces a claw around the outside of the large circle. “and this is your own corner of it.” He taps the smaller circle. “We share a soul, divided up into equal parts, and one of us dies that much more is allocated to the other souls.”

“So the orcs are right?” I ask.

He chuckles. “In part, in part. Our consciousness moves on, they think it assimilates.” He meshes his fingers together.

I look back down at the table. “What happens when no more parts, but one exist?” I ask.

“Well you have a god then.” he replies. He looks over me once more, a frown growing on his face.

“Hmph,” he groans in frustration “Your soul is so marred, like an old pair of trousers, it’s hard to tell what the actual bits are, and what's the patchwork. That is to say, someone has been performing an exquisite soul surgery on you.” he pauses again. “Interesting, interesting indeed. You could reach any number of soul spaces. 42 by my count, and that's only counting the surface. You have the most material for this one though.”

He takes another sip of the tea. “It’s beautifully done though. Like a quilt. Each patch has its place and all work to support each other. A shame though your soul will likely never ‘grow’ the pieces keep it young, and strong. The reapers will have a hell of a time with you.”

He chuckles. I feel a faintness growing in my chest.

“Ah you are waking up then. Well best keep this conversation between us.” He puts a finger to his lips, and my eyes open.

I feel sore all over. The smell of incense, and pungent herbs lingers in the room. Thelia sits in one corner. Spittle dripping out of her mouth, and down her face. She snorts loudly in her dream, and fusses for a bit.

Anise sits at the foot of the bed fast asleep. Leaned over my legs.

My arms feel heavy, and I lift them up revealing dark discoloration traveling all the way up to my shoulder. A large contiguous scar runs up each arm. Not identical, but you could clearly see they were from the same type of injury. Branching lines, like a tree with no leaves, run all the way to my fingertips. I looked like I had been struck by lightning. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

My arms didn’t hurt, just sore like the rest of my body, and maybe a little sluggish. That may have been because I was in a coma for how long? I was in the soul space for 12 hours, then left had a brief second of darkness and I woke up. Maybe a day, and a half.

I sit up or try to, but I’m weak. When I put pressure on my arm it jerks suddenly and I collapse onto it. My arm spasms for a second more before stopping.

Anise lifts her head up, and looks at me. She blinks once, and then realizing I’m awake blinks again.

“Oh you’re awake.” She reaches up, and slaps me across the face. “If you die I’m gonna bring you back, and kill you myself.” Anise says.

The slap wakes up Thelia who reaches for a punching dagger at her side, and jumps into a fighting stance. She realizes nothing is wrong, and relaxes. “Glad you’re up, it was touch and go for a few days there.” Thelia says. “You kept casting lightning magic in your sleep. It was lucky that the house you got was repaired. Struck the roof of the place a few times with lightning, no fires started though so it’s fine. Same can’t be said for some of the trees on the path from the mountain.”

I stretch my arms out. “Damn I feel so weak, how long have I been asleep? My muscles feel unworked.”

“Around six days.” Thelia replies.

I blink. “That long? It doesn’t feel like it.” I move myself in the bed. Sitting up against the backboard. The mattress is straw, and my neck was laid at an awkward angle. So I have a crick in it. I twist my neck and crack it loudly, eliciting a grimace from Thelia, and Anise.

“Do you have some water, my throat is pretty dry." I didn’t feel dehydrated. But a cup of water would be nice. Anise lifts a cup towards me. I grab it, and bring it to my lips gulping down the water quickly. I put the cup out, and Anise lifts a pitcher to fill it again. When the cup is nearly full, my arm spasms and the cup and water fall onto the bed soaking my leg.

“Everything okay?” Thelia asks.

I give her a nod. “Yeah just my body getting used to exercising the muscles again, nothing to worry about.” Anise fills the cup herself, and hands it to me. Poised to try, and catch it should it fall. I drink without trouble. I spin to the edge of the bed, and sit. My legs were sore from laying straight for so long, but I shakily stand to my feet.

“Nothing to worry about I promise. Just a day or two to acclimate myself to moving again. I give them a smile and lift my staff, which leans against the bedside table. I try to be subtle about leaning my weight on the staff. Thelia caught on I think, but she didn't mention it. I stepped out of the room, it was on the first floor of the place, and past a medium sized kitchen.

A wine cellar in the kitchen still needed repairs, and none of the “colding" enchants had been applied to the cabinets yet. It would take a while for a mage to get here, or even import one of the pricey boxes they sold. They called them ice chests funnily enough.

The front room was large, and was sparse besides a single table and a handful of chairs. The staircase that went to the second floor was bordered by a long bar, from which drinks could be served. The hallway that connected my room looped from the kitchen to a window at what what I assumed to be stables for horses.

Knocking out a few planks could leave us with a nice teller area.

Sitting at the table was Wizard, Fighter, and Rogue. They had a deck of cards of some kind dealt out. They glanced up at me in unison. It was good to see them.

I clap my hands, and say “Get your asses in gear. We got work to do.”