Collective Unconscious.

He saw the Universe.

He had no other ways to describe it. All beings were connected at a deeper level most realised. Our unconscious produces a psionic connection with all other humans. Through that connection instincts and common sense are formed.

What should we fear, how to survive, how should our heart beat, our lungs breathe. Our innate knowledge comes from both genetic memory, and this connection. Our primal instincts connect with each other, constantly adding information to the web. And our waking minds never realise it. We are connected yet don't know it. Our unconscious is the only part of us that is aware of it, but it doesn't always get everything right, and thus there are errors, and mistaken instincts.

That is how the Common Sense of Humans, our own web of connections, works.

But looking further he could see more. The other sapient species had their own Common Senses. And all together they form the Common Sense of Sapients. And even further we connect with non sapients, the Common Sense of the Wild, forming the Common Sense of the World. And at the deepest layer of connections, where worlds meet, you find the Common Sense of the Universe.

He then thought that for a psionic construct this world wasn't as confusing as he thought it'd be. He was expecting wild streams of psions changing shape at the whims of the minds they belonged to. It seems the connection was stronger than he thought, if it could form such a stable world.

“That's where you're both right and wrong.” The speaker looked as he himself did. Brown hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, not tall, about 176 cm, but well built. A face that couldn't be said to be handsome or ugly, pleasant was a good word. Defined muscles brought from his parkour, and well proportioned limbs. Indeed, a mirror image.

“No, I'm not a mirror image.”

Then there was only one option, he was his unconscious. His other he.

“Correct. The procedure we underwent separated us, so we could speak and reach an agreement. I'm honestly surprised about our resilience. We are in the Collective Unconscious, here a waking mind should be unable to function. Yet you remember who you are, even if you lack your name and memories.”

He now understood what he lacked. While he had his core, without his memories he couldn't complete the process.

“Not true. You lack the memories but not the purpose. Even if you don't remember your decisions will still take your memories into account.”

That was good. He however wondered how he could get his name, that didn't seem easy. Unless he could tell him.

“?{%%}>$]++]£. You heard that?”

It was a no then. Then how? He asked himself.

“Simple. You are already more you were before. Let us just speak until you have stabilised.”

Then what this place is, is a good start. Decided he.

“Sure. This place is actually your mental plane. The representation of your mind.”

He was interested and looked around. The place looked like a mixture of city and nature. The floor was covered in short plants and flowers. The buildings rose high, made of red-brown bricks. It was however, orderly. All things were in their place, even the tree growing in the facade of that building. To another observer’s eyes it might have looked chaotic, but for him it made sense. As it should be.

“Of course you find your own mind good. It's your mind! Unless you have severe self-worth issues you will like it.”

Then where is the mindscape of Humanity? Asked the human.

“It isn't constant. Look beyond the limits of your mind.”

He did so. And he saw mist. Infinite particles wove into streams that flowed from mindscape to mindscape, connecting all of Humanity together. However where many streams interjected scapes that were not of any singular mind existed.

“That isn't a word. Those are the Worlds of the Collective Unconscious. They are formed from the Collective of Humanity. See that one? That is the World of Amara City, the place that represents the Collective that lives in Amara City.”

It looked like the city itself.

“That is to be expected. Only the more esoteric parts of the Collective look different than the things they represent. Such as Death, or Love, or Connections, or Fire. Things like those. The more different views of something, the weirder they are, as those views clash in their formation.”

Then the World is a copy of the city? Asked he.

“No. I said looks, right? If someone sees the city as something filled with monsters, monsters will appear. If it's seen as an oasis, an oasis will appear. Things like that set it apart from the city.”

That sounds dangerous. Expressed he.

“It is. The Collective Unconscious is dangerous for those that travel through. It's why us unconsciousness don't wander. Only a waking mind may go through this place. We are rooted to the mindscape. If one wishes to explore it they must brave great dangers.”

Can I learn from here? Questioned he.

“Sure. But be careful. If you wandered far and found yourself in the Common Sense of the Wild you might lose your own mind, and become like an animal. It'd be bad, don't do please. Limit yourself to the Common Sense of Sapient, and even then be careful.”

How would I leave? Was his inquiry.

“Learn to manipulate psions and follow the flows to wherever you want. You will never lose sight of your mindscape, no matter where you go.”

I'm good at that, was what he thought.

“Of course, otherwise we'd be dead. I thank you for that by the way. That was all you, you saved us.”

If I enter again would I see you? His tone was filled with wonder.

“No. This is a one time thing.”

That was true. Why had he forgotten that, he criticised himself.

“Don't be too harsh on yourself. It is only natural to forget things when confronted by the presence of all other living beings in the universe.

Now. Who are you?”

Who I am. He responded.

“I am Connoreal Thacyon. Conn for short.”

“Good.

Conn felt good. He had never valued his identity as much as when he had lost it. Just knowing he was was enough to fill him with euphoria. But he was here for a reason, and he had to concentrate.

“Now begins the selection.” Was what he said.

“Indeed. What is it you desire? Destruction? Alteration? Improvement?”

“All three. I wish for things to get better. For that I need all three.”

“What is better?”

“A place where people can be happy.”

“Why do you desire it?”

“So that they could never exist.” They was pronounced as if just the thought of them caused him revulsion.

“Why?”

“I hate them, and what they represent.”

“How would you represent your desire?”

“Like a flame in the forge. Burning what is unneeded and leaving only what's desired behind.”

“You wish to be the fire that purges evil and cleanses good then?”

“Nothing as grandiose. That is my ideal, but I am content with burning monsters and cleansing injuries.”

The unconscious nodded and smiled.

“I agree. We desire the purification of the Universe, and we'd gladly be the spark of the great fire that would be need.

He then winked.

“Though if you could perpetuate your line before that I would be grateful.”

Conn was dumbfounded.

“Where did that come from!”

“I am composed of your instincts, even those that desire the survival of your lineage. And while you haven't tasted it other unconscious say it's sublime, so there's something in it for you.”

“Ignoring my inner pervert. Can we go on?”

“Sure. Are you willing to spit on the face of the Common Sense for your objective?”

“No.” His voice was final, leaving no room for discussion. “They also desired good, yet they are evil. If I become like them I will never achieve my objective. There must be rules to bind me, rules that will make it impossible for me to deviate from the path I seek now.”

“Then do you wish to establish rules now?”

“Hah! I'm not a narcissistic fool. No rule I make will be perfect.”

“Then will you leave it to the Common Sense.”

“No. The Common Sense can be wrong.”

“Then I suggest something. Whenever you have doubts you will come here, and speak with a remnant of your current self.”

“No. First if I don't doubt that would be useless. Second I am not perfect, I can make mistakes.”

“Then what?”

“Can you contact the most virtuous men?”

“Everyone who has lived has a remnant here, I can pull even those that are dead.”

“Then when I take actions that may make me stray, I will come here and hear their counsel. One man is not perfect, but a billion of the best men ever may approach it. But at the end the decision lies with me. I am the one to take responsibility for my deeds.”

“I find that acceptable.”

They both halted their discussion, basking in the feeling of complete agreement. After some time they grew serious for the final question.

“Who are we?”

“Just a man.”

“”True.””

Once their agreement had finished their forms glowed and dispersed, before uniting as one.

Conn thought to himself that the most important step was done. Now he just needed to find a patron.

He went to the edge of his mindscape, and looked towards the place where the Common Sense of the World originated. The Root of Consciousness. He saw the path his connection traced to it and stepped forward.

The psions gathered at his feet, making footholds for him to walk. And as he advanced those footholds formed a road that would always connect him to the World. The psions hardened around him, forming a shield that protected him from the other psionic entities in the web.

As he walked he saw giants battling with dragons. He saw wolves hunting deer. He saw ants protect their tree. He saw mothers take care of their children. But no matter how wondrous the sight he never faltered in going to his objective, otherwise he risked becoming lost in the World.

He finally reached the Root, it looked like a molten sphere, the size of a planet. It was the moment when the World first rose. When the planet became capable of bearing life. When the planet was born.

He took it in, and began to fulfill his purpose.

“I proclaim today. My intent has been made clear, is anyone willing to be the one to open the way to power?”

He looked up from the Root, to the terminals of the currents that flowed from it. Some were vibrant, so they lived and were discarded, they couldn't answer. Some were dim, only existing due to the Common Sense drawing from their experience and were discarded, for they weren't famed enough in life to open the way.

Once those were discarded only two kinds of beings were left.

The Archetypes, those born from the Common Sense. For the wolves it was the Pack-Father, the Pack-Mother, and many others. For humans it was the Hero, the Sage, the Healer, the Villain, and many more.

The Famed. Those who in life were great enough to impact the Common Sense. The Fire-Bringer, the King that put on the Crown, the Monster of the Plains.

It was these two that could answer his call. But the first one was too weak to gather their attention. He had forgotten this was the domain of psions, and only they counted.

He gathered his voice, and infused it with psions. His voice expanded through the Collective Unconscious like a wave, reaching even the Root of the Universe.

Some of the beings answered and came to him. The Hero, the Lawmaker, the Fool, the Dreamer, the King that put on the Crown, the Mother of Korinth, the Keeper of the Prophecy were some among them.

He was presented with thousands of patrons, all of whom came to him, moved by his desire and his methods. Those that came nearer were those more compatible with him.

He approached the first. A woman in a well made but simple armour.

“I am Wicol the Sufferer. I carry the burdens of those who seek my help so they may not need to.”

Conn rejected him. He believed each person had to deal with their own burdens. They could be helped, but not kept from the world.

He approached the second. An aram of straight horns and back.

“I am Irarok the steady. I protect those who are lead by me, even if it may break me.”

“And others?”

“I have no time for them.”

He was also rejected. He was too selfish.

He went one by one, examining each other, not based on power, but affinity.

He had rejected a hundred when he heard a voice coming from within the Root.

“I have an offer for you. Not everyone can do it, but you may be worthy. It is a great opportunity, but also a great danger.”

Conn turned to the voice, downwards. He then saw hundreds of brilliant beings, trapped within the Root. Of them twenty two shined brightest, with one among them being even greater among equals.

Except the greater all had wings. A third of them were golden. A fourth of them were black. Another third were monstrous. And the rest were silver.

The one that had spoken was a silver one, who was bound less tightly than the others. He shined in flaming might, fire was his crown, and strength his back. He was one of the twenty two and he was righteous.

Conn frowned, he had the impression that he was good, and that he was unable to fool him. He didn't fell psions altering his mind, so he trusted his instincts.

“Who are you?”

“You already know. You met my little brother. Now is the time to remember!” The last word reverberated, carrying through the psions a compulsion, he could now not remember.

Connoreal Thacyon was seventeen years old. He was born to a loving household. His father was a pharmacist, his mother a doctor. He had an older sister, two little brothers and a sister.

He was an honor student, however his marks were not the best. That was due to the fact that he didn't strive to be the best, just to be good. He was content with success, not needing to excel. He had a decently sized group of friends and no one particularly disliked him.

He ended obligatory education at sixteen, like all others, but instead of going on to the workforce he chose to continue his education. At seventeen he had specialised in Grain studies. While he studied he wished to make money to fuel his hobbies.

He thought of using his passion for parkour and driving skills to earn money, and started an express courier service. This service took care of delicate packages that were in urgent need. He had soon worked a reputation, enough that no longer were people trying to dupe him.

It was in one such delivery that his life shattered.

The day was sunny and hot, for it was the middle of summer and the day. Few people went outside, and even fewer were running. In fact within the whole block only Conn was doing so.

He was enjoying the wind on his face when he was stopped by the police.

“Hey Conn! Stop for a moment will ya!”

It was officer Martinez, a man that had helped him when someone tried to make him deliver illegal goods. Primarily by teaching him which goods were illegal. Oh, and his bumbling partner Smith.

“Hi there officer. What do you need today?”

Conn said while approaching the man.

“We had news of some highly illegal contraband from an informant. Don't know what it is but it's big. Have you checked your packet?”

“Not today, no.”

“Connnnnn. What have I told you about checking for contraband?”

“To do it? But come on it's for old man Ramirez, he is trustworthy!”

“He is. Is the sender too?”

“Yep. Anybal Grain Company.”

“Huh, then there should be no problem. Still, check it out, they may have given you the slip. What is it supposed to be?”

“Hold on, I'll call.”

Conn took out his phone and made a call, keeping the package on one hand.

“Old man! Yes it's me. No your packet isn't broken. No it hasn't been stolen. Will you listen! Thank you. I have to check what's inside, police business. What is it supposed to be? Uh huh, thank you.”

He hung the phone and turned to Martinez.

“Lamai, it is meant to be a dust crystal. For reinforcing one of his grain constructs. Urgent”

The officer noted that on his notebook.

“Well then, open it.”

Conn nodded and began to undo the package. He finally took out a crystal stabilising sphere. After that he opened the hatch and took out the crystal. It was an irregular transparent cylinder. There was one problem though, it was shining.

Conn didn't realise at first with the light of the Sun, and began to speak.

“One crystal for you. Wait, this isn't grain, is it the Third Particle?”

“Conn, drop it!” Officer Smith shouted, having recognised the crystal for what it was.

A Crystal Origin. A natural material that formed when in high Particle environments. It was a hyper dense form of Particle crystal that had an attraction towards Particles of the same kind. They were valuable since they could produce more crystal if left in high Particle environments, but they were not usually handled due to one flaw.

When in contact with beings formed of all three Particles they initiated a process called Biocrystallisation. This process turned the being in question into a Particle Crystal of same molarity as the encasing of the Origin. The victim would not survive the process. Only one cure was known, to sever the area of contact before spread.

But it's main danger was not that, but that in the process it would extract Particles from its surroundings, including those lodged in other beings. If the crystal was of grain the process was uncomfortable, but Grain Exhaustion was a documented and treatable, non lethal disease. It was still avoided.

If it was dust, however the problem was grave. Without Dust the body breaks down, and fast. A single dust Biocrystallisation of a human in a city like Amara could spread for a radius of about five kilometres kilometres, killing all within. It was considered a weapon of mass destruction.

Thankfully the crystal was not of that, but the Third Particle was unknown. As were its effects, causing Conn to have a particular reaction.

“Run!”

Officer Martinez frowned.

“I'm not leaving you to die! Treis, the plasma cutter!”

Officer Smith began to bring out a tool, but before he could every being within a kilometre fainted for thirty seconds.

The incident in which Amara City lost several people to a sudden loss of consciousness while performing dangerous activities was called by the media ‘The Loss’. It was highly a discussed event? In the HQ of the ACPD, a high ranking meeting was happening.

“Do we have any idea what happened?” Asked a bald man.

A woman in casual clothes answered.

“We have confirmed the origin of the phenomenon.”

She pressed a button, and the events surrounding Conn where shown on camera.

“Thank Iliar for the new security project.” Commented a horned elderly man.

“Yes. It is a pretty clear case of either contraband gone wrong or WMD terrorism. I don't like either. Poor kid.” Said the first man.

“It is clear it was a Third Particle crystal.” Said a giant with rock like skin, gender indiscernible.

The elderly man chuckled.

“At least after more than three hundred years we know something about that Particle! All knowledge was lost in the World War I.”

The woman cleared her throat.

“There's more. Why we didn't found a crystal statue, and the Biocrystallisation was as brief as it was.”

In the screen the video continued. After thirty seconds a portal appeared in the middle of the road, and three mechanical things appeared and took Conn with them.

The room fell into silence. The first to speak was the rock giant.

“Who are those guys and why can they circumvent a particle that's been unknown for centuries.”

The first man was about to answer when he received a message. After reading it he clenched his hands and spat with fury.

“The incident was a new spell. We have captured the perpetrators and they will be sent to prison. No Third Particle. No robots.”

The horned man smacked the table in silent fury.

“A cover up.” Commented the rock giant.

“Yes.”

Conn woke up in a dimly lit room. He was naked on the floor, and unable to move. Conn looked to his right arm where he saw the crystal shining, but the Biocrystallisation was halted. His entire right arm was crystal and a few streaks of it could be seen on his chest.

“H-how?” His voice was weak.

“There are few free psions in here, and I'm not about to let that thing take mine.” A deep voice sounded.

Conn was startled and swung his head to his left. There sat a silver winged man in dirty rags, was all Conn could think before the winged man spoke again.

“Now that is mean. I haven't been allowed to change in three hundred years.”

“W-who?”

“That isn't important right now. What is important is that I can help you end the crystallisation.”

Conn’s eyes widened and he nodded with difficulty.

“Don't do that. Part of your neck is now crystal, you may sever the rest if you do that kind of movement.”

“How?”

“See, psions react to minds. They are controlled through minds. If you believe them to be living tissue, they will become living tissue. It is a bit more complex than that, but I can teach you. Do you want me to?”

“Yes!”

The man smiled at his words and began instructing him.

“Psions are versatile, capable of imitating anything except dust and grain. They are bound to thoughts, thoughts shape them. Not only those that you are aware of, but those of your subconscious. So in order to make them become living tissue you must imagine them becoming living tissue. Begin by trying to make the crystal into a mobile shape, less rigid and more flexible.”

Conn started to send his consciousness to his arm without thinking, and was surprised when he could. The seal didn't impede that. Once there he could feel how the crystal was made. Little particles, united in a grid and forming the structure.

He imagined them becoming flexible, but nothing happened. The man worked out his puzzlement and corrected him.

“That would work if the crystal was less dense, but as it is you need to think of a flexible particle structure. Not just be flexible.”

Taking his counsel Conn changed how the psions connected to each other. Instead of equal rigid distances he made them unequal, imitating a slime’s fluid yet coherent body, like mercury. To his surprise it worked, his arm lost its rigidness and he could move it around. Too much to be honest, it wasn't supposed to twist like he was doing, making it turn 490°. But still he had succeeded. He used his now functional arm to help himself sit down.

Conn smiled, but his joy was short lived when the man spoke.

“Good, now you only need to learn to turn it into actual living tissue or you will have severe health issues. After all the crystal reached your lung. Do you know what it’s made of?” At his confirmation the strange man hummed. “Science has advanced since my time then.”

Conn kept practicing until he managed to make blocks that behaved like cells. But they were just empty cells, without inner structure to make them work as intended.

He then made a cellular skeleton, like those that were on actual cells. He then tried to replicate organelles. He was thankful to his parents now for all those nights researching to understand what they were talking about.

Some time later, he felt like days, he managed to achieve what the man wanted. A perfect reproduction of the structure of living cells, if not their hormones and all those little but vital things. However he had managed to do a good job.

Now that he could think about other things he relaxed, but immediately grew scared. He noticed with consternation that the crystal had advanced a little.

“Don't worry, you are nearly there. And it only took you five days.”

“F-five?”

“You won't feel hungry, thirsty or tired until the Biochrystallisation finishes or is halted. Then you'll have to feed to maintain your new spiffy crystal parts, a lot. Now, to end the process you can just separate the Origin from you, but I don't recommend it. Not until you escape from here. You'll die of hunger otherwise.”

Conn was impacted by the implications. Wherever he was he wasn't being cared of it seemed. Actually, he had no idea where he was.

“Where am I?” Asked Conn, having recovered full use of his voice.

“A prison of the Gwardwedich. A butchered form of Welsh for Guardians. They were founded five hundred years ago after the Mind Flayer used psion control to bend the minds of many people to join his army, including their founders. His control was horrible, so much the Gwardwedich couldn't even remember the proper use of their language when his control was taken away. His actions brought much devastation and…”

“I know who the Mind Flayer was. I didn't know that he used Third Particles though.”

The man continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.

“They were founded to stop everyone who misused psions. But eventually that goal shifted to stop people from using psions when extremists took over. They make sure no one knows about psions or uses them. Even knowing of them is a sin in their eyes.

Thus why you're locked, they couldn't remove the crystal without killing you, so they locked you away, waiting for you to die. They don't wish to kill an innocent, but they have no problem letting them die. They also are probably the ones who erased the knowledge of psions that your lack of knowledge indicates.”

Conn was shocked, that was treason against all sapient species.

“But without knowledge of the Third Particle Sphere, no one can improve their container to completion, and reach the Nine Shifts! They have weakened humans, arams and trolls. We are not at the mercy of the Wild only because of our technology!”

“They are fanatics. They don't care.” The man said while shaking his head.

Conn stayed silent, letting the situation in. The great calamity of World War I was caused by sapient hands, and they had willingly perpetuated it. How stupid had they to be to do that? He couldn't help but ask himself.

“How can I escape?”

“It's actually easy. But remaining free isn't.”

Conn felt his mood fall, realising what he meant.

“I can't run from them, can I?” Despair filled his voice.

“No.”

“Then where can I go? To the Wild?”

“You wouldn't survive.”

“Then-!”

“You need to go to somewhere they can't follow. You need to go to another world.”