Book 2 Ch 32: Astral

There are some that theorize that everything exists with the astral plane. All the heavens and hells and even our own realm exist within it. The barriers between them are softer and more malleable than they appear to the uneducated. I’m not one to discourage theory, but I do find far too many students pondering this particular concept while puffing witherbloom smoke rather than actually advancing their studies.

• High Magus Luther

After the applause and exclamations faded the Magician returned to the front of the stage on which he was standing and again gestured for silence that was immediately magically enforced.

“It is not often that we welcome someone new into our ranks, but we would like it to be. Let it be known that we are looking to fill those empty spots within the Major Arcana. The Moon, The Sun, The High Priestess, Strength, The Hanged Man, The Tower, The Star, and Justice. All of these seats have been empty for some time, a few have never been held.” He paused. “If the Major Arcana could be filled with the truly worthy, mages who are without fear of the supposedly forbidden, then we could some day rival the Union itself.”

Solomon could feel the excitement of those around him building, even in the magical silence.

“There has always been speculation about what brings one into the Major Arcana. I will now lay it out as clearly as possible. A demonstrable ability with spellcraft and innovation, a contribution of significant value, completion of a task thought impossible. All of these multiple times over are required. We are going to make things a bit easier though,” he gestured toward the far door where the ledger room was. “Starting with our next meeting we of the Major Arcana will be making direct requests to you of the lesser arcana. Our names will not be hidden and the tasks we give and requests we make can be attempted by all.”

Solomon kept his expression neutral. Becoming one of the Major Arcana was all well and good, but it still seemed unclear what the benefits would be. He also wondered if the tasks would only be for improving one's reputation with the Arcana or if an appropriate reward would be involved as well. Until he had more information, he had little interest.

“I look forward to seeing more of you standing with us,” said the Magician, his eyes briefly lingering on Solomon, a flash of concern on his face that faded in an instant.

The strange looks he received from the Magician were a source of anxiety for him, but he had little he could do about them.

Speech was restored to the crowd as the Major Arcana moved to the upper level of the ballroom, leaving the rest of them to gossip and plot.

Solomon made his way back to the Knight of Pentacles.

“So, was your guess correct?” he asked, leaning next to her.

“Yes. Your silver would’ve been well spent.”

Solomon smiled at that.

“Now that she’s Temperance do you think she’ll forget all about us lowly pentacles?”

“No. Not so long as she feels she can still get something from us anyway.”

“True enough.” He eavesdropped a bit, then returned his attention to her. “Are you going to set your sights on a seat amongst the most high?”

“I always have. This just makes things clearer.”

“Why? It’s never been made clear to me exactly what being a Major Arcana gives you.”

“It’s never been made completely clear to me either, but it's a seat at a powerful table. I imagine you get as much out of it as you yourself are capable of extracting. Even if that’s the only benefit, it has value.”

He nodded. She was right, he was being small minded about the possibilities of it.

Stolen novel; please report.

He felt a pulse through the meeting place and said his goodbyes to the Knight before the halls of the Arcana faded and he awoke in his cabin in the darkness. The candles he'd lit had burnt out and only the light of the moon reflecting off the water provided any illumination.

He relit the candle and carefully wiped away all evidence of his ritual. When he was done he wrote out the instructions for the spells he’d traded for a text on advanced sigils and runes so they would be ready for morning.

All of that completed, he grabbed his journal and Crimson Command and climbed into his hammock with them.

…

He found himself standing in a wide cobblestone street. All around him were people that were frozen. He saw a woman bargaining over fruit, half leaned toward the merchant whose hands were held up in a conciliatory gesture. Two children were playing with a ball, but the ball hung in the air between them, unmoving. A carriage was a few yards behind him, and the horse at the front of it had a leg up in mid trot.

He looked down and saw that he was holding Crimson Command, but his hands were his own. He knew he was asleep, but everything around him felt real. He could feel the unevenness of the cobblestones beneath his feet.

He saw a pair of purple eyes hanging in the air next to him, encircled by a wisp of shadow.

“Do you know what’s going on?” he asked.

The eyes turned to him. “We’re in the astral realm.”

“How?”

“I am uncertain. Dreams always border this realm though. Perhaps the force of the blade’s visions along with you already being asleep caused you to break through to this place.”

Solomon looked up at the sky, expecting to see a madness of shifting fuscia clouds, but instead he saw only calm blue sky. He didn’t know much about the Astral Realm, aside from little tidbits he’d heard others speak of. He knew it tied strongly into animancy, and was considered infinite, but he’d certainly never heard of anything like what he was seeing.

He began to walk forward, his boots clacking on the stone street. He turned down a street, taking in his surroundings. The city he was in was old. That was indicated by both the architectural style he saw as well as the clothing he saw the frozen people wearing. It was definitely a city within Drakthiss, likely one in the southeast, but it wasn’t one he’d ever seen himself.

He turned a corner onto a busy street and froze. All of the people on the street were facing him. Their mouths twisted into scowls and their eyes wide and staring below furrowed brows.

When he moved, their eyes didn’t follow him, but he backed away and turned to return the way he’d come anyway. As he reached the road he’d just been down he found that all of the people on that street were facing him as well. Their faces full of rage as they glared at him without movement.

He turned down a way he hadn’t gone and found a half dozen people staring at him as the others had been, but this time they were pointing.

He tried to will himself awake, but nothing happened. He ran down another street and found it blocked by more pointing figures. Men and women, young and old, all of them were staring at him with hate and pointing.

He stayed still, wondering if keeping his eyes on them would prevent them from further action. Then they spoke.

“You should not be here,” all of them opened their mouths at once to speak and their voices mingled horribly creating an inhuman echo that bounced around within his skull.

“I was getting that impression,” he said, drawing Crimson Command. He didn’t hold it out toward the frozen people, but instead he placed the blade face down on his palm and drew it across. There was a moment of discomfort, but his hand didn’t cut and he remained asleep.

He looked up to see that all the people within the town had stepped closer to him. He raised a hand and cast gust, but while the cast did work, the wind blew harmlessly past them as if they were heavy statues.

He looked back to see that others from the town had begun closing in on him. They weren’t only approaching him on the ground. He saw several of them frozen mid-crawl on roofs and more curving around alley walls, their bodies twisted into an animalistic crawl.

He wasn’t sure what would happen if they reached him, but he didn’t want to find out.

“Aristopheles, can you wake me up?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He sheathed the sword. “Do it.”

The eyes that had been floating next to him grew larger and a fanged mouth appeared below it, growing as well until it was as big as Solomon. It opened, and enveloped him.

…

Solomon awoke in the hammock. He felt momentarily unreal until the feel of the hammock on his back, the sound of the waves crashing against the ship, and the smell of salt brought him back to reality.

“Two requests remaining?” asked Solomon.

“Yes,” responded the demon, its eyes closing as it vanished from the shadows nearby.

Solomon carefully removed himself from his hammock and placed Crimson Command on the desk. Had the vision he’d seen been an accident? The consequence of dreams and visions accidentally breaking into something he shouldn't see? Or had the blade been trying to show him something? Every other major vision he’d seen so far had tied into his history or circumstances in some way. He struggled to know what that strange city was trying to show him though.

He left the blade on the desk and laid alone in the hammock, finding himself unable to fall back asleep before morning.