The Apprentice

A day passed by like sluggish mud through the veins. Which was to say, excruciatingly slowly.

Eiden had recovered a bit, his mind no longer as frayed as before. It went from an old and unoiled jute rope, unravelling back into its constituent fibers to a slightly worn-out leather binding with only a few cracks and scales. His mentalist background sped up his recovery ten-fold, yet he still felt he would dwell with these scars for long decades to come.

Mental trauma was an adaptation of sorts. It allowed a being to better survive, priming them for future bouts of whatever they encountered before. However, as quickly as the mind was to adapt, it was as sluggish to purge its scar tissue.

Neural plasticity was damn expensive, be it spiritually or corporeally. It would be a waste to simply shed a condensed engram that could facilitate survival. The mind cared not for individual comfort and quality of life, instead prioritizing the prolonging of life. Quantity over quality.

And so, Eiden took his time meditating. Or trying to, at least. It was easy to push away dark thoughts amid magical training or even combat. But when the mind could wander, it chose to follow dark paths.

Those were the deepest, after all. Water flowed through the path of least resistance, and the waters of the mind were no different.

From the Empty Breath to Form sequences, Eiden practiced them all, conditioning his psyche like a blacksmith forged a blade. But, as any good bladesmith, Eiden was careful and cautious. Steel had to be quenched in acid only as strong as it could handle. It was to be tempered, not weakened.

In between bouts of uncomfortable self-reflection and unthinking meditation, Eiden happened upon another epiphany.

I fear so much to be left alone with my thoughts that I stumble on insight like some broken sort of dowsing rod, Eiden thought with a dark chuckle.

When his breath reached its ebb, where air no longer possessed his mental lungs, he found insight. The arcana of air and wind and pressure were mixed together in his mind. It was hard and difficult to extricate them from each other, causing his arcane techniques and imbuements to be fixed. Eiden lacked the ability to fine-tune his transmutations. The arcana was transported from the Eye to the Heart through his spirit-veins. When the arcana reached his Heart of the Bodies, it couldn’t contain itself anymore, bursting into being.

It was especially so with his wind-spirit arts. Eiden relied on distributing the enormous internal pressure of ventai through internal or focal techniques.

Form sequences together with breathing techniques and internal spirit arts were required to give him any sort of finesse and control over his aeromancy. As such, Eiden needed a long build-up time for his projection magicks. Only every five to ten strikes conjured wind, creating a pattern that could be exploited. And most of the time, those strikes were delivered through the Cat’s Paw. Fowl’s Eddy and Serpent’s Cauldron had some affinity to aeromancy. Still, any spirit art cast through them just wasn’t as strong or powerful as through the first form.

Sure, Eiden could throw in a projection technique with another arcane aspect in between to confuse foes. Still, it would quickly exhaust him of both mental and vital energy. Animus and noesis in equal bounds.

The insight cut through his past weakness, exposing a truth hidden beneath. Eiden was not just a master of wind but of air itself. Air was an ever-present elemental spirit, birthing everything from the essence of wind to the sharpness of blade.

Air came not from within but from without. Its origin was the world itself.

Empowered by the revelation, Eiden lashed out with his mind, taking hold of the imaginary Ether created by his mental plane. His aura became one with his surroundings, the intangible spirit-skin turning into a thousand-thousand filaments burrowing deep into the folds of the ethereal.

Eiden pulled the ether through his aura, circulating it through the surface of his spirit. He didn’t take it deep into himself, instead cycling the essence superficially. It was the difference between carrying something in his hands and stabbing it directly into his bloodstream. The aura could fold into itself to bend spatial folds of the ethereal, giving it the ability to mold and manipulate foreign mana.

His aura blended into the Ether, donning it like a glove.

Eiden tensed his ethereal muscles, causing the black of the mind to stir with wind.

Next, he cycled the ether in his Center, increasing its momentum to an absurd amount. Like a stirring from deep waters, a leviathan’s shadow heralded the coming of storm. From hundreds of placid streamers weaving in and out of argent roots to cutting currents of pressure and fury, his ether-core came alive.

The tempestuous vortex spread forth, flooding into his aura. The air bent and twisted as gales were conjured around Eiden’s form.

Slowly, Eiden took control of the spinning tempest, condensing it into a seed; an orb of translucent wind the color of viridian green ebbed in front of him.

Eiden swallowed the orb, devouring it in its entirety.

It entered his lungs like a ravenous beast, lashing out as its energy was barely contained. Yet, it could not do much. Mana, while inside his ethereal body, was under his full domain. His soul held sway.

The churning of his upper and lower basins grounded down the energy, condensing it further still. The seed of tempest was steel cornered between the anvil of his mind and the hammer of his spirit.

The pneuma, both parts nether and ether, was plane-shifted entirely into his etheric half. It was much more condensed than his past reserves, the difference between raw ore and processed metal.

The rarified pneuma entered his channels as his Center’s domain expanded. Slowly but surely, his will was implanted into the essence, turning foreign spirit into familiar energy. Hunger mana did much more than simply devour. It was not just the essence of pull and take, but also of breaking down and of claiming. It imparted the orb with his own signature, making it his own.

After a few cycles in his spirit’s circulatory system, Eiden vented the essence back into his aura, merging the new rarified ether into it.

He felt his aura take in the essence with some apprehension, like a hand trying to hold water. Yet, he endured until at least some of the pneuma was infused. The rest that didn’t take dissipated into the Ether.

The result was minuscule for so much effort. His auric strength and affinity for air and wind increased by less than a tenth of a percentage. But it was with small results that any sort of progression was achieved. The smidgens would accumulate through time until he became a force to be reckoned with.

But that wasn’t all that he gained.

Air comes from without.

Along with an auric tempering technique, Eiden learned how to take conscious control over the Tide. Before he used unconscious sympathy, the pull of his spiritual center causing the Ether to writhe. Now, he could do it himself with his aura.

It needs a name… Breath of the World? No, too wordy and long. World’s Breath? Aye, like the sound of that.

The technique used all of his spirit. His Center provided the swirl and a bit of momentum, but it was his ethereal muscles that really shined through. They contracted to pull the Tide by force, burning massive amounts of aether at the start until the technique could hold its own momentum.

It wasn’t just his aura that had gained a boon; it was his Center too. As above, so below. The First Law of Sympathy: Consanguinity. As his Center could influence the Ether, so too could the Ether influence his Center. It created a loop where he indeed became one with the Tide, his very spirit thrumming to the beat of wind and air as both within and without created a tempest.

A grin spread on Eiden’s face as the mageling’s mind bubbled with new ideas to try. The mental realm only exhausted psychic energy and not that of the body. He would not tire himself in practicing, at least much. He wouldn’t need that much psychic mana anyhow for the second Trial. The best part was that he could instantly try another technique in rapid succession since no musculature was actually used.

After countless tries in different technique ideas, of which many branches led to dead ends, the time for the second Trial had finally come.

[Lad, it’s time. In half an hour, I will inject the first mutagen. Be prepared to deal with the remnant spirit bound to it. The will of the manticore is not to be underestimated.]

Eiden rested as he waited, recovering a tenth of his reserves, bringing him to half total mental mana.

Eiden opened his steelborne eyes, the metallic iris shining argent as he felt a prickling sensation in his abdomen. More specifically, his Center. A blob of mana entered his spirit, pooling inside the hollow part of his ether-core. Eiden likened it to a partitioned section of the Center that wasn’t attuned like the main etheric space. It was a waiting receptacle cordoned off with fine and tight threads with little pores. Hunger mana would tear at any arriving mana, breaking it down to its component ethers and aspecting it with his latent will, and branding it with his signature.

The ethereal stomach had various layers of membranes, each increasing in finer and finer sieves. Eiden had simply chosen a single layer to aspect it with elemental and arcane ether. At first, the etheric stratus was in parallel with the rest of the Center, smack in the middle. But, as it was further aspected and new pathways were added and others redrawn, it separated from being in direct series. A new layer was put in its place as the ether-core was drawn out into its own space in the ethereal. The ether-core itself was bound to all layers of the Center, being able to draw upon any type of essence, be it a broken-down elementary distillate or a recently-digested complex amalgam.

The foreign essence had a mind of its own, lashing out in its captivity. Eiden held back as much as he could, yet his instinct to devour was still very much there. It was like trying to forbid a wolf from hunting and consuming prey. It wasn’t even entirely a product of his bloodborne resonance, but instead something primal to himself and life in general.

To live is to kill another. It is impossible to not do harm. Every step is genocide as thousands of bacteria and protozoa die under the heel.

Eiden wasn’t so naive as to think conflict and harm were entirely bad. It was too narrow and simple a view in a world of greys. Sure, harming sapient and sentient beings for no good reason other than malice was deplorable. But, violence had its place.

Blade begets blade, and blood begets blood.

Eiden used all of his will to stop his Center from ravaging the remnant spirit that dwelled within, holding back the waters of hunger itself.

Eiden breathed out before he took a mental hand to the various membranes separating the introduced remnant spirit and his pathways. They parted until they could not do so anymore, the final layers stubborn and almost unbending.

So he ripped them like parchment. He tensed his ethereal muscles using his ability to use every ounce of latent strength of his spirit to rend his spiritual integumentary and connective tissue. He could not use his ethereal muscles to move his corporeal body, but he could do so to interact with his spirit. In conjunction with Fin’s power, the anesthetics stopped him from manifesting any sort of power outside the confines of his ethereal self.

Inner Flame - Arcane Aspect: Stalwart Steel.

The beast-spirit was bound in chains of argent lacquered with adamant. Eiden pulled the shackled essence through his channels to his upper basin, the Eye of the Mind.

There he met another resistance, a veil separating his pathways from his mind. It was much thicker and less porous than the membranes of his Center. Only basal ethers could enter through it, normally that was.

Eiden opened his eyes back to the grey waters of his mind. There, he opened a breach in the firmament of his psyche, a thought willing it so.

As above, so below.

The breach extended into his etheric pathways, bringing the remnant spirit up and into his mind. Chains slithered out from the abyss, staking themselves to the darkness of the psyche. They imprisoned a quarry like no other, a beast of myths and legends not commonly found in the mundane lands of the continent of Kyro.

The manticore stood at the height of a grown man, a full head taller than Eiden. Its body was its mental representation, how its mind saw itself. Its fur was red like blood spilled upon parchment, shaggy like a dog’s coat. Muscles tensed under the surface like steel wires. Its claws were like talons; large and massive things made for rending. Yet, that was not what most drew Eiden’s attention. The monster had the face of a man, indicating that it had simian blood. The visage was not without fur, the slight red dying the mottled flesh of pink and bruised blue. It walked on all fours. Eiden knew as much given its quadrupedal build, not unlike a feline or canine. It had a tail full of barbs and quills, ending in a sharp stinger encased in a chitinous carapace.

At certain points in its body, it had scales and carapace made of keratin, giving it a reptilian and mildly draconic visage.

The sanguine manticore. A minor draconid chimaera with primate ancestry. The offspring of a powerful spirit-beast, the primate in question, and a drake of some sort—a fertile hybrid borne of distant species to the point that its blood is a mixture of both, creating something new entirely. The beast is no simple hybrid, its peculiar blend of faraway branches of life endowing it with the status of a chimaera.

Its only traits left over from its draconic heritage are its blood, stature, and spirit. The scales themselves are newly evolved and not draconic in origin. They are simple things of keratin that could be cut easily enough with a steel blade. The scales are mostly found on its paws and spine to protect it from the claws of other predators. The tail is encased in a thick layer of keratin as the stinger and quills are the beast’s primary weapons. Without them, they would not be able to as effectively hunt back in their original spirit-lands.

Some small prides of sanguine manticores are found in Kyro nonetheless, though most of their numbers lack much in the way of magic. Qyrazael, the original land of the Indicas and other tribes, now ruled by the Qyra, is where the prides concentrate.

Eiden recited the information from the depths of his mind, his ravenous study in the beast’s history apparent.

The chains clinked and strained under the weight and strength of the manticore, yet they would not be broken. They were forged of the mind itself, their firmament unshakeable as the material from which they were wrought: the arcana of defiance. It was a bit ironic given that the very same arcana that could defy gods of blood was as much apt to hinder the resistance of others. It snuffed out discordance like sharp winds through a sail, swift and mercilessly. And permanently.

Terra was enormous, being divided into many continents, some of which were mana-dense and filled to the brim with ambient essence by way of ley-lines. Others, not so much, like Kyro, the birthplace of humanity and the other civilized races.

Even in the Continent itself, there were lands with enough mana density to harbor and nurture inherently magical life. Though, in most of the mundane, spirits were sleeping things, atrophied to conserve energy, lest they harm the survival of their corporeal halves. Mages were the exception as they had minds and ethereal bodies reawakened to the power of spirit and soul.

The chains clinked, bringing Eiden’s awareness back to the towering mythical beast in front of him. He wasn’t much scared, if at all. With a thought, he could conjure purifying flame capable of entirely erasing the remnant will into nothingness. This was the domain of his mind, and he had honed it through a year’s worth of both training and tribulation alike.

A simple beast with a spirit so atrophied and frail could do him no harm.

With a thought, Eiden summoned a book from the black, taking heed of its words and methodology of taming a remnant spirit. Its cover was made of leather-covered in a thin laminate of scales the color of amber. Its very pages were velum wrought of the very same beast—an umbar-drakendag, a small draconid found in temperate climates with the build of a lizard. Its only connection to a draconic ancestry being its blood that could be used to concoct various alchemic and chemical compounds.

On the Subjugation of Remnant Spirits and Spirit-Beasts Alike: A Treatise by Vivienne Di’Tarth Solley, Magus of the Third Order of the Numen Watch Preface

To conquer a remnant spirit is not unlike the hunt for its corporeal half. A fight of attrition and endurance. As it is a marathon in nature, human mages are apt to subjugate and conquer the spirits of lesser beings. The subjugation of sapients and Kith, in particular, is forbidden by the Orden Numen, the organ di’vaterre of Sothron Florencia. The Numen Watch is not keen on dark magicks and the Left-Hand Path, and this tome shall reflect that. Be it hereby written and witnessed in no vague terms that no warlockery or black art shall be taught in this work.

Three methodologies for the subjugation of remnant spirits shall be explained. Assimilation, familiarization, and harmonization.

Assimilation: Skinning of Spirit

Remnant spirits may be subjugated in many different ways, and of those methods, one stands at the fore: Assimilation. The process involves breaking down a spirit into its building parts and scouring its psyche into nothingness, leaving behind its powers. The spirit must be held inside the Center until its will perishes. Still, before it is entirely disintegrated, it is to be imbued into the ethereal body.

Beast mages, or beastborne, do this by instinct without the need for much technique. Spirit arts are bridges that help a mage gain skill until they can perform magic by second nature. Beastborne have a headstart in this process in regards to assimilation.

Assimilation is more art than science or rigid philosophy. The less a remnant spirit is melted and unconstituted, the higher the chance for a spirit-organ to be salvaged from it. Some subtle organelles may be harvested after the death of the corporeal vessel of an animal, but not all. Spirit beasts, in particular, are difficult to harvest as their middle-spirits condense into nethers of different kinds. Sometimes, this results in more bounty, but other times the process of post-death condensation degrades and destroys certain mana organs.

As true death unravels and causes structural changes to a spirit, a technique to counter the process was devised. Assimilation functions by keeping a remnant alive and strategically cutting away its etheric mass to harvest its magicks. It may even be done inside a spirit-crystal or some other containment artifact.

For any mage to be known as either a good artificer or spirit-smith, they must gain experience in the dismantling of remnant spirits. As such, assimilation is mainly used in the creation of spirit-organs and artifacts.

[The treatise continues with a listing of different spirit-organs that may be harvested from specific species, be they spirit-beast or mundane creature. Together with each recorded spirit-organ, the tome also abridges on what each may be used for, be it infusions, artifice, or some other Path-related endeavor.]

Familiarization: Husbandry of Spirit

At times, it is unwise to butcher and skin a remnant ethereal body. Even if done correctly, it is still a game of chance. Magical creatures found on Kyro are rare and sparse, and losing even a single sliver of ether would be a catastrophic waste. When would one find another hob or dhampyr rat should their bounty disintegrate? The magicks would be lost until the next expedition into a spirit-land was planned and executed. And even if another magical creature of the same species is found, who is to say that the harvesting of their magic is successful?

As such, instead of outright killing a being, be they mundane or magical, a mage may tame and bond with them. There are various methods, some bordering on conjuration and soul-pacts. Others are simple domestication with the intention of inexorable slaughter once the beast is fully developed and “ripe.”

To effectuate a bond with a spirit-beast is quite simple, though it requires a few prerequisites. Opening one’s spirit to them in turn and feeding them elan vital along with a drop of blood is enough to start the process. Then on, it simply takes time. The remnant must not stay in a spirit-land and instead be in the mundane while the taming is done. Otherwise, they may scurry away to find some vital treasure or Place of Power to sate its hunger.

[The tome continues with different variations of the technique. Further down, it starts to list the recorded efforts of successful familiarization on known species and spirit-beasts and how to take care of them in mundane land.]

Harmonization: Kindred of Spirit

Some remnant spirits and magical beasts are too powerful to simply waste them on either domestication or butchery. With domestication, each successive generation loses its bloodline bit by bit. Spiritual genes are much more susceptible to their environs than corporeal ones. As such, the ethereal bodies of spirit-beasts are apt to atrophy when not in mana-rich geographies. Natural magical power is fickle and fades away quickly compared to nurtured magic. Hel, even the spirit of a skilled mage would dwindle away if not maintained adequately as strength and skill are blurred in the ethereal.

As much as spirits are wont to adapt, such a power is a double-edged blade.

Even butchering a spirit-beast for its body parts is a waste on particular creatures. Much power is lost as it dissipates into the Ethereal Planes. As such, mages may instead bond with a creature to harness its magicks. This is much more than the creation of a simple familiar. This process creates a being on equal footing of the mage, an opposite side from which they can draw power.

Calling a bonded, powerful creature a familiar is more apt than calling a domesticated beast one. Though language is fickle and imperfect, thus we make do with what we have. To avoid further confusion, we shall differentiate between the two by calling harmonized familiars simply familiars and the other variety cattle.

To harmonize with a being is to bond with it in mind and soul. One must open their purest quintessence to the spirit-creature, letting bare all that they are. An excellent primer to such magicks would be Glanfath’s Mental Compendium, Volume II: The Key. The Caedomarean mentalist Glanfath is an expert on all things related to the mind and mortal soul. Another great scholar to be studied in preparation to execute the techniques contained within this tome is Kvetch Ruh Rotvuoz, an eastern Kaedweni philosopher of the natural sciences. His magnum opus, The Three Doors, deals with the purging of mental scars. A necessary step in mastery magicks that require a placid psyche.

[The author states other books, theories, treatises, and works, abridging on necessary information before describing the harmonization technique. She gives ample warning on its dangers from minute and subtle to grand and imposing.]

Bonding with a creature, be they spirit-beast or mundane quarry, is to sacrifice part of the soul, specifically the animus, to maintain such a connection. Magical creatures place more strain on one’s elan vital than ordinary beasts.

Do not attempt to bond with more than one spirit-beast without proper soul-strength, lest your high-spirit be wrung dry like an old rag. In that case, you shall die, and the bonded familiar will feed on your soul, gorging itself upon your very essence. Magical creatures have instincts of violence and slaughter when in the throes of hunger and famine whilst in the Mundane. Even with a soul-bond, they will inexorably drain you of your life-force if not attack you outright. Animus-bonds are not intractable, but they also are not easily removed. To unbind from a creature is to cut away part of one’s mortal soul. Bodily and mental weakness are sure to follow for years on end.

The Chimaeric Twin-Soul Technique

The Chimaeric Twin-Soul is both parts psychic and spiritual. It derives from the first Order Chimaeric, an organization of monster-hunters who imbued themselves with the very powers of their quarry. The Order Chimaeric inducted beastborne from all across Kyro, knighting them with their coat of arms. The natural magicks beheld by beastborne were compatible with the artificial bodily augments provided by the Order.

The Chimaeric Knights have long since fallen into practical obscurity, most civilized lands no longer needing their protection. Only night-prowlers and other stealth-inclined monsters pose a threat to cities and towns, leaving the Knights Chimaeric without work. Their Order still survives in some pockets to the Far Away North with chapters in Caedo’Mar, Free Kaedwen, and Stros’ T’sun. Their Southron branches are destitute, being absorbed into nearby organizations such as the Cyroshi Bladedancers. Their eastern and western keeps have been all but abandoned as their members were killed in nonhuman pogroms. The Vitaen Republics invested great coin and magic into excavating and exploring their ruins, resulting in the modern Vitaen Exorcist Guild incorporating its original Fate-bound wizardry and the Order Chimaeric’s artificial bodily augments.

The Chimaeric Twin-Soul technique binds two mortal souls together, intertwining the elan vital of separate beings in twain. The primary being, man or some other Kith, is both vessel and main soul-mass. They harbor a remnant spirit, or multiple, being able to use their mana to create temporary vessels for their soul-bound familiars. This allows them to inhabit the Physical Realms. If their tether is destroyed, they may simply be resummoned again at a later time.

Familiars bound through the Chimaeric Twin-Soul are called Khaeros, or in the original Cyroshi tongue before it split into ancient High Vitaen and western Cyroshi, Kairos. The etymology of the word comes from the profession of weaving, in which kairos means the opportune moment in which the shuttle could pass through the threads of the loom. The meaning is that of an opportune moment of binding. Khaeros are familiars bonded with a special soul thread, connecting master and serf through copacetic bindings from navel to navel, the area coterminous to the Center of the Spirit and the Nascent Soul. The word for the Continent of Kyro also possesses the same common root as kairos, for it is the cradle of humanity, a place of perfect habitability for all kinds of Kith.

To understand how a Khaeros may be bound to their Magister, one must understand their binding principle or sympathetic thread. Sympathetic threads are subtle strings affixed to the Great Tapestry of the Weave or Grand Loom, a plane sired by Fate and the Wellfont. Wizards may draw from these threads to create magicks not inherent to themselves, weaving in energies from the various planes and casting spells that target entities unlike arrows but instead like the unerring sight of the Divines. Sympathetic bindings come in many varieties, from perception-based empathetic threads to copacetic lashes. Copacetity is the opposite of entropy. It may also be known as negentropy. Its etymology hails from the Sothron Cyroshi tribes of Ebhrahai, originally kol b'seder, or “all is in order.”

Copacetic bindings weave together souls in an orderly fashion, lashing even their Fate as a single entity. It transcends mortal high-spirit as the bond matures until even both immortal souls that dwell in the astral become bound. As such, so long as the Magister lives, they may bring about their Khaeros. Though, this bond is not without weakness.

Khaeros of any kind fight this process, for it irrevocably alters their souls and supplants the master personality upon them. Since the Chimaeric Twin-Soul binds twain psyches, it is dangerously close to arcane or eldritch magicks, arts best left for veteran mages. Any that partake in the technique must watch closely lest either their mind or their Khaeros ventures too deep into the Eld. Connecting two unawakened souls is bound to partially awaken either the Khaeros or the Magister, transforming one into a partial sorcerer. You cannot poke at a sleeping beast and not expect it to wake from slumber, and the eternal mind is no different. And since Khaeros are often either eldritch beings or spirit-beasts, they are apt to take upon the Eld. Sorcerer’s sulfur is not the only acerbic power of the soul. There is also the sorcerer’s vitriol or eldritch arcana. It is the purest form of arcana that knows no bounds. Not even the laws of the universe can contain its alien presence. Its nature is that of the Sea of Eventualities, of the Waters of Oblivion itself from which a thousand-thousand universes are birthed, floating through the ebb of the depths of the Astral Void.

[More information on eldritch beings and their progeny, eldrin, is illustrated with diagrams on planar interaction and other magicks until, finally, the technique is properly written down.]

There are two main ways to execute the Chimaeric Twin-Soul. Through sorcery or wizardry.

Sorcerous harmonization is done through inherent mentalism or psionistry. The remnant must be contained inside one’s mental palace. Then, one must tame it by feeding it aether and creating a mental construct for its habitat so the beast may frolic and live whilst not occupying a physical body. The habitat construct must match the beast’s original or be as close to it as possible to assure compatibility. Too much stress can fray a spirit-beast’s nerves, causing it to lash out.

After successfully taming the remnant, one must then assimilate it into their body and spirit. At this point forward, the technique is mainly spiritry. Its ethers must be drained slowly until only mental animus is left. Then the absorbed mana must be imbued into the appropriate organs. The Knights Chimaeric used the natural convergence points of the body where veins, nerves, and lymphatic ducts coterminated with their etheric and subtle counterparts. These were simply called spirit-nodes and could be imbued with the excess essence taken from one’s Khaeros. This allowed for further fine-tuning and configuration of a Chimaera Knight’s power.

Wizardous harmonization is done through a mixture of spells, both Weave and Wellfont-based.

[A series of archaic spellforms, runic inscriptions, runeform, and other wizardous diagrams are illustrated. From alchemy circles to planar alignment charts, no method was left unexplored so that even those that were not entirely tested were still mentioned with possible solutions.]

The Apprentice

Eiden returned his attention to the beast lacquered in chains in front of him.

How should I tame him? The thought gave Eiden a chuckle. Interesting that I see the monster as a “him” rather than an “it.” He couldn’t see beasts and other non-sapient beings as objects. Though, that did not mean he did not enjoy their consumption. To live was to kill, and such an example stood in front of him. Hunger did not drive this spirit-beast to hunt and kill. It was pleasure, a positive feedback loop engraved into its flesh through eons of blind evolution. Each revolution of the Wheel shed imperfection upon imperfection until all that was left was a veritable apex predator that fit snugly in its niche and enjoyed it.

Eiden couldn’t help but see part of himself reflected in the manticore—a primal sort of darkness that took enjoyment in pain. And for no more reason that it was intrinsic to his being, wrought upon his flesh and spirit. Though, it seemed that there was a counterbalance to that animus, one of restraint and sympathy. At least, to those one considered kin and kith.

Eiden shook his head, ridding himself of his ponderous thoughts. Philosophic musings could be done at another time.

The apprentice extended a mental tendril towards the chained manticore, a branching thread of wispy mist emanating from his glabella, the area in between the eyebrows coterminous to the densest concentration of psychic energy.

The tendril reached the beast, slithering like a serpent. The phenomenon caused the manticore to stiffen for a time before it apprehensively sniffed at the questing bond. It took seemingly days for the manticore to accept the empathetic link. One’s perception of time in the mental plane was distorted. The mind could simulate days upon days or even years by burning psychic mana. It was the only drawback compared to entering one’s sorcerous realm: it used mental mana, drying up the reservoir in a flash, whereas the Palace Beneath the Waves drew upon the eternal soul to conjure its simulations.

As the manticore accepted the thread, the chains around it relaxed just a smidgen. The beast took advantage of the situation, positioning its tail and shooting its barbed quills towards Eiden.

Anger flooded Eiden, his eyes burning scarlet. The cerulean ember that ever beat in his heart turned into a roaring pyre of smoldering flame. He extended a hand, releasing the scarlet from his veins.

A torrent of blood-fire shot forth, incinerating the quills in an instant. The flames burned black with a red core, inexorable corrosion taking hold.

In the momentary arcane channelling, Eiden’s waking consciousness focused only on his apparent foe, causing him to lose his psychic omniscience. Behind Eiden, shapes he was blind to slithered and swam in the black of the mind, serpentine leviathans full with the Aspect of Famine, a close cousin to Hunger. A thousand-thousand closed eyes lined their crimson celestial bodies, the eyelids made from the maws of abominations and teeth of world-beasts.

The eyes opened, a glyph etched in place of the pupil with sclera the color of darkest dark. Lines of abyssian black amidst seas of scarlet. The rune of Saturn—a cross with a wave extending from its heel towards the right that was wound like a sickle—that which embodies death and harvest.

The flames roaring from his left hand exhumed black, noxious smoke that turned into burrowing serpents. The smoke-like flame entered the beast’s nostrils, shrivelling it from the inside out. And yet, no essence made its way to Eiden, for the arcana contained within the flames was not of hunger but of a close relative in the eternal tree. Hunger was to consume, withering away prey as it stole its lifeblood, concentrating the order of a being into another. Famine was to shrivel for lack of, not taking anything for itself, only bringing forth death. It was a hollow harvest fit only for the dead where copacetity was spread thin through the universe so that none could partake upon it. At least, not easily.

Eiden felt the corruption of the arcana try to lull him, its pull sickly sweet like a fly-trap. Insidious whispers he had not heard in a year came back in force as he still had a sizeable leftover reservoir of psykosis or perfected psychic energy. It heightened his sensitivity to arcana and the threads that bound them to their source, the Aspects.

If you cannot have it, then none should. Spread thin the order contained within the creature by the power of entropy so that it shall be back to its rightful state; null and without energy. Bring back that which existed before even the first living being drew breath.

Inexorable doom comes for all in the form of entropy, an echo from the Astral Sea. As above so below, forming a pattern through the resonance of the fabric of reality. Resist not that which shall surely come.

The Primordial Void beckons.

Eiden’s heart came alive, beating with the will of stalwart steel, blue fire coursing through his veins. His eyes shone cerulean blue. The arcane flames vanished at once, disappearing just as suddenly as they appeared.

Eiden shook his head as the arcana dissipated. The manticore looked a step away from true death, its visage sickly and pale. Burgundy fur fell in clumps, and its eyes were now milky and unfocused.

Though the mageling had cut off the channeled aspect of Scarlet Flame, the remnant mana still wreaked havoc upon the spirit-beast in front of him.

This would not be the first time he broke down the tainted leftovers of his arcanistry, nor would it be the last. Eiden invoked a chant he had not used in almost a full year, the sorcery responding in kind. He could not create new sorceries without the help of his soul, but he could use the ones etched onto his high-spirit. As long as he had a small reservoir of psykosis, he could imbue life into the sorcerous etchings nestled deep inside himself.

“From the ruby blaze of life, you came.

“To the fire of blood, you shall return.

“Scarlet Flames.”

A roaring pyre erupted from inside the spirit-beast, but it did not melt it away into nothingness. Instead, the mana invigorated it, returning its luster and strength as it broke down corrosive acid into invigorating tonic.

It seemed Eiden had achieved some sort of reverse assimilation, letting the spirit-beast draw from himself instead of the other way around. Then again, harmonization is a mix between both butchery and husbandry of spirit.

The manticore looked at Eiden, confusion emanating from it as the emotion bled into the mental realm. The mageling waited for a spell before extending another empathetic link, and this time, the manticore accepted it without deviation.

Tentatively, Eiden tested the link, letting flashes of his emotions and thoughts through. Though he was at a loss as to how to approach the interaction.

[I am not your prey. I am not your predator] Eiden stated with a mix of mental images.

It seemed it was a bit too complex for the manticore, but it seemed to get the gist of it. Eiden was neither to be hunted by him, but neither would Eiden hunt the manticore.

[Friend?] Eiden quested.

[What is friend?] The manticore responded back.

The patchwork communication was shoddy at best, the difference between species so great, Eiden might as well have tried to talk to a squirrel.

Memories of camaraderie with Bert and Lisa flashed through the link. Everything from playing tag and eating together to taking care of each other’s wounds after a skirmish.

[Packmate.] The manticore intoned, understanding apparent through the link.

[Us pack?] Eiden asked.

Confusion ensued as the manticore tilted its head like a puppy. It would’ve been cute if not for its predatory, simian face full of fangs the size of a grown man’s forearms.

Slowly, the chains untangled from the beast,

Eiden conjured a wisp of scarlet flame, causing the beast to flinch away and the connection to fray under its fear.

No, his fear.

Eiden touched the flame to his body to show it was harmless before he walked towards the manticore and tentatively presented it to the beast.

He was a few steps away from a beast of legend and myth, yet he felt no fear. What were arcane elementals and eldritch gods when compared to a simple spirit-beast? Eiden’s scale for what frayed his nerves was on a whole other level.

The manticore sniffed the arcane fire, his fear abating but not entirely disappearing as he saw it was no active danger to him.

[Eat.] Eiden said.

[Eat? How?] The manticore asked.

Eiden showed the beast, inhaling the flame as it turned into red fog. He conjured another spark and extended it to the manticore. Its smell of blood enticed the creature until it gave in and inhaled the mist emanating from the arcanistry.

Its muscles bulged, returning back to their prime state of bulging steel wires. Together with the beast’s bones being filled back in to support its weight, the manticore’s effective height grew by another two heads. Eiden hadn't even noticed that the remnant spirit was actually an elder of sorts. But, now, it was apparent that the beast had been on its last legs.

[More.] The manticore pleaded, much like a pup wagging their tail and barely waiting for their master to put down their bowl of food.

Eiden smiled and conjured another wisp of pure scarlet, handing it to the beast. A few sparks of amaranthean danced amidst the sea of red. Some bleed over psykosis, it seemed.

Now, what should I call you?

Eiden took his time taming his Khaeros. He transmitted all that he could think of through the link, and the manticore responded in kind. Hours blurred into days as slowly a connection was formed. Though this wasn’t anything magical in nature, but much more mundane. It was a bond, similar to the one shared between master and hound, though much more equal.

Eiden respected the creature, and the manticore respected him in kind. Both had the philosophy of survival, where strength mattered a great deal. Though, they diverged in their sympathy. Eiden's range of cruelty and compassion was much wider as he possessed extremes of both monster and savior.

Eiden closed his eyes and extended a hand towards the manticore, sending a single emotion through the link: affection.

The beast seemed a bit at a loss. Its instincts both urged it to pounce and to reciprocate the affection. The warmth won against the seething aggression as the manticore nuzzled its forehead into Eiden’s outstretched hand.

It’s purring. By the gods, the damn thing is fucking purring! Like a cat, no less.

Eiden caressed the manticore’s blood-red mane next, the fur soft and like a sea of comfort.

I could fall into this stuff and never wake.

The manticore opened its eyes in a single bound and pounced on Eiden, laying down atop him like an overgrown cat.

Eiden proceeded to give the man-eating, mythical beast belly rubs.