"Something sinister now controls this island. After a month pa.s.sed and you hadn't returned, I thought the worst and went looking. I hadn't expected to find anyone but thank the heavens for what mercy they grant," the old man continued to ramble on but considering that he'd been without someone to talk to for over a month, it was understandable.

Unfortunately, his current conversation partner wasn't much for conversation. With little else to offer at the moment to replenish the 'dead' ball, Orison fed it from the eternium chunk his plane rotated around. He wasn't about to give it some of the chrism until he knew exactly what it was and he'd figured out exactly how he wanted to reform his own conduit.

But before he could focus on any of that, he grieved over Zeke and even James. The time he'd spent with the ex-soldier nearly equaled the time he had spent with Gan and the feelings of friends.h.i.+p were just as deep. A part of him wanted to believe that Zeke was still alive but if he was, Orison didn't think that would be any blessing considering what he woke up to.

His grief for James wasn't as substantial but he did feel guilty. What should have been a relatively safe thing that would have insured the teenager's survival had led him straight to death with no chance at retaliation. The young mage dreaded breaking the news to Jimmy if he ever got the chance. It would be another month or so before the island dumped them into the world proper again and there was little chance of them reaching the center of the island for the other route if it was under a mad G.o.d's control or worse.

Now that there were two of them and the island wasn't the natural and relatively harmless place it had once been, they set up a rotation of guard. When it was Orison's turn a couple of days later and he was sure the old man was asleep, he pulled out the partially charged conduit and tried to verify if it was Gan's or at least acted similar. The reason why he wasn't so sure is because there was patterns and filigree on it that had never graced Gan's plain and una.s.suming one.

Sure enough, it would take the forms it was instructed as long as either the user or itself was familiar. While he was studying the designs, the young mage barely made out a scripture on it. Before he read that scripture, he had a strong but ultimately wistful thought that it would be amazing if somehow it could turn into a time travel device.

The conduit responded and before Orison could think or say anything else, the world blew apart like colored smoke. He did time travel but it wasn't days or years into the past. It was a slow motion reversal back to the moment when he entered this world, fighting for his life against the black silk purse that was trying to eat his s.p.a.ce. He was rewound for whatever handful of minutes prior to the moment the purse had won and trapped him in a powerful illusion formation to slowly digest him.

To Orison's side there was a young bald man in a Buddhist ca.s.sock. He was holding the mustard seed bracelet and trying to save the young mage from being devoured by paralyzing the purse with some kind of chant. That is, until the bracelet reversed back into his s.p.a.ce and the monk faded back out the way he had entered, stuck in a limbo. The young mage saw multiple things be reconst.i.tuted in his s.p.a.ce as well.

Since he could think clearly even though he was reversing, Orison tried to actively call for the warranty and recall on his teaser suit before it was resealed inside the crystal capsule. Nothing happened. He continued reversing until whatever was doing it ran out of energy right at the moment he entered this reality.

Orison shot back forward but was frozen a half second before he hit the ground. There were two voices talking, a pedantic one saying benefits were received even if the satisfaction of warranty was only theoretical. The second voice read from some kind of formal proceeding where the first voices statement had been challenged in the high court of hosts and lost. A tangible good must be delivered if said good was contracted. It apparently didn't matter how many times someone else received them through other methods. It was a confusing legal argument that tried to set a clear definition on existentialism with a definite answer.

Three scrolls descended. Him and everything in him were the only 'things' to get the benefit aside from the silk purse. It was partially 'invalidated' and became part of the process already established in his 'theoretical' use of the warranty. 'Conduits without soul cores didn't have protection as valid ent.i.ties' was offered as a polite informing given by the second voice. Another part that wasn't 'real' was the need for recovery. He was perfectly fine in every way after the process was done, save one.

His sanity wasn't exactly perfectly fine as he said, "How much of what I experienced was even real? Scratch that. How much translates into my current reality accurately?"

The second voice said, "We are under no obligation to answer but as a courtesy... About ten percent as a very rough, non-professional and in no way legally binding opinion. There were two things that were concretely established and unchangeable by any paradox of the lower dimensions. The first was an influx of essence from the mid dimensions and the second was an instance of conduit sacrifice which initiated in the mid dimensions as well. Presumably both to keep you alive.

"The illusion formation did draw information from its surroundings but any further than a few kilometers would be mostly fabrication. Consider yourself fortunate Mr. Cantrip. Any gains or losses of a material nature may be questionable but gains to concept and spirituality are very much real. As you can see, even if most of what you experienced was supposition, in low dimensional worlds, such effects can be quite powerful as the nature of reality where you are is quite loose. The vernacular would be 'subject to change and results may vary'.

"It is this supposition mixed with your intuition that allowed for you to construct real probability within the illusion. It also allowed you to construct survival scenario within the illusion itself. Calling on aid at key moments and uses or withholding of certain resources at dire moments. Your situation would make an interesting case study, Mr. Cantrip. Unfortunately, it would be conflict of interest to discuss that further with you or entertain it privately for us.

"Thank you for your patronage, valued customer. Your warranty and recall rest.i.tution has now been successfully completed and delivered. Please consider using our services if chance permits in the future."

Orison landed safely on the ground and a second later, the young monk reappeared looking conflicted.

The monk said, "Contrary to what you saw within your illusion, I am not a bogeyman. I am also not some mysterious old man that may have barely restrained doing harm to you. I am the second... person... that you laid to rest and recovered in the cave. I never left Amoril until recently.

"Recovering from long term exposure to a bewildering array of that magnitude can be quite disorienting. Perhaps we should find you a place to rest for a little while. It's not too late to discuss your future plans at that time."

As Orison followed the monk, the familiar sight of a man getting beaten by three thugs appeared. As they continued to walk, Orison noticed that they were ignored completely and that the monk had no intention of stopping.

Orison said, "Can't we help him?"

The monk shrugged. "I do not want to stain myself with threads of karma from this world but I will not stop you. I will wait."

Since they weren't seen, Orison just fed them a suggestion that they had done what they set out to do. Once they wandered off, Orison asked to be released from whatever cloaking effect was being used and offered Neil the money he had picked from the thug's pocket, save ten bucks. The detective thanked him and gave him his address for Orison to come by.

Noticing that Neil wanted to solidly offer repayment but knew he might not be able any time soon, the young mage said he might need some help with something in the future and that Neil could consider it a down payment, nothing owed. Pride satisfied, Neil staggered off to get a cab to a clinic. He hadn't been beaten too badly but still needed a little attention.

The monk's eyes widened in delight. "Excellent execution. The tie of karma is entirely controlled by whether you want to pick it up or leave it. Taking the funeral paper may lead to some karma but you can avoid it."

Orison chuckled. "That's the actual money of this land."

The monk smiled. "Amitabha, benefactor. Perhaps you can help a traveling monk keep up his strength? I will pray for the dissolving of your karma from petty theft."

The young mage laughed. "You want dinner? Sure."

Since it was nearby and to satisfy some curiosity, Orison took the monk to the dumpling place across from Mr. Wei's apothecary. It was a bit of a logistic ha.s.sle but the restaurant managed to put together a decent vegetarian plate for the monk.

Whispering, Orison said, "Is there a transportation gate down there?"

The monk shook his head and said, "There is an entrance to a sacred land. It is all but empty and leads nowhere else. There are signs of body pract.i.tioners but none have the signs of internal breath. The cultivation is superficial. How could it be otherwise when the mortal breath of this land is so dense."

Orison sensed himself and noticed that the inert spiritual essence was only a third of the pressure he remembered. If the world was a soldier barely holding on with tourniquets inside the illusion, this one was more of an old lady slowly slipping away in a comfortable hospice.

As they finished up their meal, Orison asked, "As long as it's not too personal, how did you survive to recover?"

The monk quoted a little scripture and then said, "It was the carving. I tried to tell you so you would recognize me but the demon bag twisted the telling. As a last resort, I secreted myself in the carving I made my father but never gave him. The wood was special and it's disappearance is part of the reason why I was sent to the monastery for discipline. It is a boring story really.

"Benefactor Venito was my true reason for recovery beyond revival. It was my debt to him that sent me here. He has children he is yet unwilling to leave. As free as he has been with his affections, he holds to his responsibilities as a father."

"I am only a material manifestation here. What I can do is limited but... I could send something to your brother for you. It would be no trouble."

Orison closed his eyes and communicated with 'Mustard', then said, "There is something I want to send him. If you would be so kind as to deliver it untampered with."

The monk smiled widely. "Of course, benefactor. To do good deeds and sever negative karma is of great importance."

Orison nodded and said, "Of course. Just make a vow on your structure to do so and I'll be happy to 'sever' whatever remaining karma exists."

The monk frowned. "There is fate between me and the bracelet you carry. I will be happy to carry over what is useful to Benefactor Venito and keep only a meager portion which is useful to an impoverished monk such as myself."

Orison sighed. "I am truly grateful to you as you SHOULD be to me and my brother both by your own words. I tell you this out of that grat.i.tude. The bracelet will not accept you. You are apostate but if you deliver it to my brother, it will share some items with you. That is Mustard's decision, not mine."

The monk held out his hand and said, "Very well. I will deliver the bracelet to your brother."

"Your structure oath first, please," Orison said woodenly.

The monk sighed, gave his oath and then again when Orison caught the loophole the monk left himself. Once it was completed properly, the bracelet flew out on its own volition. It paused briefly to create the silhouette of a person placing their hands together like in prayer before bowing. The young mage returned the gesture. In playful despair, the Monk held the bracelet and asked it to reconsider rejecting him as he faded away.

Once the monk was out of sight, Orison looked at himself in a reflection and sighed again. He looked fifteen, felt 500 and had more memories that were fake or belonged to others than he did his own. Not quite back at square one but completely unsure of what this world was about, he stepped out of the shop.

Halfway down the street but no real idea of where he wanted to go yet, he felt a disturbance in his s.p.a.ce. Looking within, a ghostly copy of the three scrolls had only just finished their work on a metal ball that glowed with supernatural brilliance. Wrapping his over robe around, he pulled the ball out and on the side was a glowing biblical scripture which all but screamed 'Read me!'

Under his breath, he said, "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you. I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."

A moment later, there was nothing in his hand but there was an intimidating guy standing in front of him with a st.u.r.dy looking teaser suit and a t-s.h.i.+rt on.

Zeke bent down and gave the young mage a hug and said, "That's from me." He stood up straight and ruffled Orison's hair and added, "That's from Gan."

The air had eye irritating dust particles in it again for a little while before Zeke hailed them a cab and took them to a hotel.

On the way there, the young mage said, "Is this real?"

Zeke growled, "Don't say things like that. It's as real as a low dimensional world gets... We'll talk more when we're in private."

As soon as they were squared away in a room, Zeke gave the breakdown. "No, this world isn't as dangerous as your memories. That was the purse trying to get you to use, abandon or forget about items you have while making you waste power. Yes, there are threats in this world and secret societies are at the top. Yes, there are two places with 'mad G.o.ds' in them... One is at the place up north where you remember using the transposition device.

"When I was sent by Gan to help you, I was still just a conduit. When I first arrived here, I was found by someone else and I ended up being present when the transposition device was used once before. We went a decent way back. I was found by a woman who belongs to the 'plain people' to the east of here. Through my ability to mimic and her desire mixed with a little faith power, she was finally able to give her husband a son.

"During an event where the plain people send their young out for a few days to see the 'sinful world', I was tricked into signing up for the military while I was drunk. It was one hand pus.h.i.+ng my back into one situation before another hand pushed me somewhere else but I always felt like there was something I was supposed to be doing that I wasn't.

"The moment you pulled my likeness into the purse's illusion, I started having dreams. That kept happening until 1957. A little of the power generated from the fake warranty thing let me remember who... what I was. The rest isn't that important since it's paradox stuff but to close the loop so all this stays 'real', I have to go back to Gan at the same time he sends me. That's around a month from now.

"What I'm going to do is spend that time setting up your life and a big *ss fund to support you in the future. Since Neil seems to be your favorite pet project, we can set something up for him to be your guardian watchdog while you live emanc.i.p.ated. The same way it was in your illusion thing.

"You're very unstable right now. You need to get stable before you even think about going where everyone else is. For awhile, Al held the reigns and had a little fun in the background but he's handed everything to you now... Want to know why you look fifteen after being tuned to the truest you? That's because the adult inside of you threw the rest of what he had into you and is no more. Well, that's not completely true but you get what I mean."

Zeke let that soak in for awhile.

Seeing that Orison wasn't ready to add anything to the conversation, he flashed a handful of conduits and boundary items. "Is there any of these you mind me having? I can use them."

Orison looked them over dully and nodded.

Zeke glowed for a moment and they were gone. Next he handed Orison all the stuff that should have been in the ruby ring but the ring wasn't in his s.p.a.ce either. The young mage looked at Zeke in wary confusion.

The living conduit said, "Ignatius isn't the ent.i.ty you think he is. Zora is a real person and she can handle him. I can handle the ring. I also have the mini trainer because it is one big nuclear bomb of paradox right now... Before I leave, I'll come back one more time to see you and I'll give you the ring and trainer... Is there any reason why that should be handled differently?"

Orison was about to shake his head when he thought of something very important.

Please go to to read the latest chapters for free