86. Shift II (Patreon)

My lungs felt as if they were going to burst as the pressure suddenly changed. I looked at my surroundings, yet I could only see endless light. I looked at my tangible and fleshy hands.

Where am I?

I asked myself, even if I clearly knew the answer.

Somehow, I had been transported to the spiritual plane.

I exhaled all the remaining air in my lungs. The expanding gas was paining me more than the risk of asphyxiation would. Pressure wasn’t a thing on the spiritual plane, nor was temperature, for that matter. My blood felt as if it was boiling, yet it wasn’t because of the changes in temperature. It was the pressure.

I did not understand the logic, why did the lack of pressure have an effect, but the lack of temperature did not?

Even though I wouldn’t freeze, at this rate I would die because the liquids on my body were expanding outwards.

I casted Regeneration, the curious spell reverted the blood to a more pressurized state as if it had reverted time.

“You are keeping up, huh?” A figure of light materialized before me. “I thought you would have died rather fast.”

The light condensed into a humanoid shape and shifted into a myriad of colors before settling into its true form. A draconid of black horns, wings, and scales yet powerful crimson eyes. I recognized that shade instantly.

The figure before me, the mystic before me, was none other than the Author. None other than Eygaz, heir to the throne of the Houtz Imperium.

What did you do?

I relayed my thoughts through the spiritual plane as I was unable to talk because there was no air or any medium for my voice to traverse through. He easily intercepted my message.

“I think you already guess what I have done,” Eygaz smirked, sharp fangs showing beneath that smile. Unlike me, he was able to talk. How was he doing so though was beyond me.

How did you do it?

I added a scowl to my message, engraving emotions into the soul's pulse.

“How aggressive.” The draconid floated around unaffected by the plane’s laws. It looked more like swimming than an actual coherent flight. “And why should I tell you? Do you even know what you are?”

Before I could relay a word, the prince continued.

“You are a liability.” His words were harsh, yet his attitude was lax. “You have found out about my identity. You risk my discovery or, even worse, ending my freedom.”

Your freedom?

It was getting hard to think, blood pumped through my brain sluggishly. The constant casts of Regeneration weren’t enough. I added Mystic’s Dominion to the equation.

“Yes, my freedom.” Eygaz nodded. “I was enjoying here my life, outside of duty and corporeal limitations, and then you come and interrupt it. With an off chance to threaten it. I can’t have that, you know?”

What are you going to do?

“Me?” The man laughed. “Nothing.”

His black wings expanded in a non-threatening way, akin to how an ellari might stretch his arms after waking up.

“You are going to die sooner or later.” I looked at him with hate. “Yes, yes. You are holding alright for now with your tricks. But Regeneration is only going to get you so far. In the end, you will run out of mana and will die.”

That was my only weakness, mana.

It was incredibly difficult to kill me. The leyline, the terrorists, and even the afterlife itself had failed to do so. But behind my seemingly immortal state, there lay a blatant weakness. Once I run out of mana, I could heal myself no longer.

Why are you doing this?

“I already told you, ellari.” The draconid scoffed. “Haven’t you been listening? You are an obstacle, a nuisance. A pebble I have to remove from the road.”

No, that wasn’t the right question…

Why aren’t you affected?

“Now that’s an interesting question.” Eygaz scratched his horns with his long claws in a burlesque manner. “But that does arise another one. Why should I answer you?”

To satisfy the curiosity of a dying man?

I risked answering.

Eygaz laughed, his body shooting around from side to side with each giggle in the weightless plane. His body spasmed in laughter, the micro-movements shooting him around. A cause and an effect. Laws still meant something on this plane.

“Sure, why not.” He cleared a tear from his eye. “The answer is that I’m simultaneously in the corporeal and spiritual planes.”

Simultaneously in both planes?

Think, Edrie. Think.

What could that mean?

It was difficult to think. My blood had become like mush, and only when I overcharged it with mana, it would act as normal.

My mana rapidly drained. I had only two minutes of dominion-laden Regeneration. If I didn’t find the answer by then, I would die.

Two planes.

His body couldn’t be in the corporeal plane. What I had before me wasn’t a projection like Astral Self, but his true physical body.

He didn’t lie. I knew that.

Then what was at the physical plane?

True Recall pulsed.

The phylactery.

Eygaz wasn’t affected by the influence of the spiritual plane because the phylactery anchored him to the corporeal plane.

Or so I assumed.

I was working with very limited information and mental faculties.

Could I undo the link between the book and the mystic?

No.

Eygaz was an eleven-star mage. I would not be able to overpower such a connection. And his soul was stronger than mine even if that wasn’t the case. If I hadn’t had my soul shattered, could I have powered through?

Stop. Don’t think about what-ifs.

Alternatives.

If I couldn’t affect him... could I affect myself?

Did I have any anchor on the physical plane?

Another pulse.

The artifact.

A solid ground to anchor yes, but I didn’t know the Phylactery Bonding spell.

Well, I did know the spell, I had memorized it. But I wasn’t able to cast it.

One minute and thirty seconds remaining.

Could I try to cast it now?

No.

Even if I were to have success, it would take far too much time. Mystic’s Dominion had taken me about a quarter of an hour. That was a ten-star spell. One of the eleventh star... I couldn’t imagine how much longer it would take. Probably longer than the Nethergate ritual.

What had they said, the draconid imperial family?

The mana capacitator was a pseudo-phylactery, said princess Salayah.

But what had I said?

It’s a mana transformer.

An anchor, a phylactery, and a transformer.

How can I use that?

What information is useful to me?

One minute of mana remaining.

Casting.

Sorcery was a conjuration method that focused on mana usage instead of computation. It used imagery to substitute and compensate for the lack of computation.

Could I bypass Phylactery Bonding’s cast with my own mana?

No.

With outside mana?

Perhaps.

It still was an eleven-star spell, though. Computation and conjuration time were still a factor, no matter how much mana I shoved in. There always needs to be computation for magic to exist.

I had to try.

Not doing so would be a fool’s errand.

I needed to at least establish a solid connection between me and the artifact.

Another pulse.

True Recall restored a share of my mental faculties. The memory spell showed me the structure of the Phylactery Bonding. It was incredibly complex, yet somewhat comprehensible. I didn’t need most of the spell either way, I already had an animated object as a phylactery, that bypassed a lot of the more tedious parts of the framework.

I flared Mystic’s Dominion and began shoving mana into the fractured soul.

“Hmm...” Eygaz pondered audibly.

WHAT?

I shouted. I couldn’t afford to be distracted now by outside noises.

“No, don’t mind me.” He responded. “By all means, continue your futile attempts.”

It was encouraging that the mystic that trapped me here to kill me wouldn’t interrupt me.

Thirty seconds remaining.

I shoved mana, vaguely shaping it into the framework of the eleven-star spell.

Twenty seconds remaining.

The casting was reducing my time greatly. Every drop I mana I poured onto the spell drained me of precious seconds.

Ten seconds remaining.

A brittle bridge formed between my soul and the raptured one. Not enough.

Zero seconds remaining.

I no longer had mana to cast Regeneration. My body began to degrade once more. I neither had the mana to continue the Phylactery Bonding spell.

But there was a connection.

A very feeble one.

But a connection.

I did what no sane mage would have done. A thing only a mage who wanted to live would even try.

I took the lavender mana from the artifact.

Outside mana. Poisonous. Unadulterated. Pure. Powerful.

My body burned.

My soul ignited.

Mana flared.

The spiritual leyline mana was powerful, it was even closer to true mana than my superb-true one.

Neither my soul nor my body could tolerate it.

It was Lan’el’s leyline all over again.

Yet this mana was mine.

I renewed the casting of Regeneration and Phylactery Bonding.

My body rewound to a prior, healthier state. Yet it instantly got hurt by the intense mana. It did not matter. It rewound again. And it got hurt again. And it healed. And it was destroyed. Ad infinitum.

How many seconds? How many minutes? How many Regenerations?

Don’t matter.

I couldn’t afford to get distracted by the pain.

I concentrated on the creation of the phylactery.

Steps were bypassed.

Mana was wasted.

Life was sought.

I SHALL NOT PERISH.

I stated in defiance. My thoughts rippling through space. Creaks. Rifts.

“Yeah, sure.” The dragonborn prince dismissed my words with a hand movement.

But it wasn’t a plead, but a statement. And it certainly wasn’t directed to the mystic.

I tapped onto the singularity back on the draconid capital.

Space warped.

Reality shook.

Planes collided.