MAGUS INFINITE

The flesh that regrew from the ash was no longer the tentacles that were burned by the Sovereigns... sigh, intestines; the Sovereign believed that these were intestines.

With a loud whoosh, the ash exploded and spread across the ground that was now hardened glass, and somehow, the ash grew wet, despite the ever-growing heat.

The ash kept expanding across the ground for miles, and where it spread, it rose, folding upward in layers, and the layers had things on them. White eyes, distributed across an acre of flesh like freckles on a face, opening and closing out of rhythm, as they were slowly turned to ash, but more eyes kept appearing.

A stand of ribs somewhere else, flexing like reeds, but each was the size of mountains. And in the middle distance, a whole section turned itself inside out with a sound like a wet building collapsing, and what had been surface was now interior, and the interior was making chewing noises.

Then it spoke, and I nearly flinched; even the Sovereign shuddered, and his body descended a few feet.

”Fire.” Ten million mouths suddenly tore open across the vast sheet of flesh that was growing across the earth, and one voice came out of all of them together, and I thought the demon sounded faintly amused. ”Little warden... You brought me fire. Do you not understand the home I was birthed from?”

Hundreds of loops ago, I had asked the Hollow Avatar if it was possible for me to kill the Pale Matron, and I had not forgotten his response,

”The Pale Matron is a Class Six threat. To contest a thing graded above Transcendence, you must climb to the tier the title was built for.”

A Sovereign was the height of power in this world, but if I followed the classifications of the Celestials, a Sovereign was a Class Five being, and the Pale Matron was Class Six; it was a single level, but I understood that the higher you go, the greater the divide separating the classes.

I did not think the Sovereign might be able to win, but I reminded myself that this was not the Pale Matron in her full demonic glory, just one... not so small part of her body.

Also, I was reminded that the Hollow Avatar had mentioned there was something wrong with our power system and that we had too much potential and power for our level, so I could not count the Sovereign out.

∞

Sovereign Caldus hovered in the air, his flaming eyes fixed on the expanding flesh of the demon. He did not look surprised; he looked... thoughtful.

”Interesting,” he said, and his voice carried across the distance as if he were standing beside me. ”The demon’s flesh is not material. It is a memory of material. I do not detect a soul inside of it, and it does not seem to need Anima or essence to power its form, ans so it only need needs to remember what it was. There had been theory that there could be a form of power like this, but it always seemed so far fetched.” He paused, and I saw him reach into the air beside him, his fingers closing on something that was not there. ”I have not used this in a very long time, but there is too much magical mysteries and insight locked in your flesh... you are mine demon.”

The air beside him tore, space was unfolding like a flower, with the petals of space itself peeling back to reveal something that had been folded into the gaps between moments. And from that unfolded space, a book emerged, that seemed to be made up of braided light and woven will, and its pages made of something that looked like solidified sunlight, its binding a lattice of fire and law.

It hovered beside Sovereign Caldus, and I felt it breathe... and I was not speaking metaphorically here; it was really breathing, as I could see its cover rise and fall, and the slow pulse of light within its pages.

The book turned toward me, as if it was aware of my presence.

Sovereign Caldus placed his hand on the book’s cover, and I felt the weight of years settle onto my shoulders.

This was the third time I was seeing a book like this. The first time was the shadow of the Sovereign of the Stars; the second time was from Seed, the Sovereign of Darkness; and this was the third time I had seen a book like this. Every time I had seen this book, I was always drawn to its power and unknown mysteries, and to my shock and delight, the Sovereign began to speak to me.

”Every mage who crosses into the Sovereign realm is given a choice,” he said, and his voice was quieter now, almost reverent. ”They can continue as they are, a mage of extraordinary power, bound by the limits of their body and their channels. Or they can choose to become something else. Something that the world cannot easily hold, and not all of us are able to take this path.”

He opened the book, and the light that spilled from it was the light of the sun, which was somehow filled with the light of understanding.

”This is a Grimoire, and it is not a staff,” he said. ”You wield a staff, but that is just a conduit. It channels your will into the world. A Grimoire is a world. It is a space folded into the shape of a book, a dimension that exists parallel to this one, anchored to your soul. It holds your laws, your memories, your power. It is the thing that allows a Sovereign to act without the constraints of flesh and time.”

I stared at the Grimoire, at the living light that pulsed within its pages, and I understood what he was showing me.

This Grimoire faintly reminded me of the spaces inside my soul that held the Hollow Room of the Hollow Avatar, the Moon Fox, the Law fragments, and now the Caelith. However, unlike those rooms, this one was able to enter and access the world.

”Do you understand what this means, Elric? A staff,” Caldus said, ”is a crutch. A lens for a soul too small to focus itself. Acolytes cast through staves. Adepts learn to slowly cast without. Arcanists forget they ever needed one.”

The Grimoire began to vibrate as it began to slowly open, while the flesh of the demon continued to expand. ”A Sovereign does not cast at all. A Sovereign decides, and the world complies. But a decision must be held somewhere while it is being made, and no soul, not even mine, is large enough to hold a Law and think at the same time. So we build somewhere to think.”

It was as if a window over my soul was opening up, and I needed all of this information after walking in the dark for so long.

”The Grimoire is alive,” Caldus continued, and I looked at him as I could hear warmth in his voice. ”It grows with you. It learns with you. It remembers what you forget. And it gives you the space to hold the things that would otherwise break you.”

He raised his hand, and the Grimoire opened. The pages turned on their own, and I saw the shapes of laws written in them, patterns of light and fire that my soul recognized even though my mind could not fully grasp them.

”Watch,” he said, and the Grimoire sang.