Make me! He recalled, raised his palm, and the bird was frozen in midair. Locked in a bubble of spinning wind. Expertly. He grew powerful in this. And with a wave, the creature was shot forward, whistling through the current.
In a moment, it met Merrin. That instant, it tore through the bubble, expanding into a giant thing of interlocked plated wings, wide beaded eyes, and razor-sharp talons. It was a monster. His monster.
It cawed, flapping, its airflow like torrents. "Bold now are we?"
Merrin said nothing, observing the greyworld; its infinite expanse, darkened and gray. Even the river of obsidian beads beneath. All the same. Never changing. "What have I lost?"
"A symbol….And force." It said, defined mock in the tone. "You never learn for an El'shadie. You still make promises in a world like this. Symbols are events. More so, in the cognitive scape."
Merrin scowled at it, and there was a pause in the bird. "This is the cognitive scape?"
"Here is in the cognitive scape." It corrected. "You should mind what things you do here. Symbols have a way of becoming exactly what you say. Fabricated, if you will."
"So Ivory stole a symbol from here?"
"No. You made a bargain, and she accepted. Now, a bond exists between the two of you. She speaks the lore, and the symbols do not tear their way through her mind and soul."
"So it's dangerous." Merrin sighed.
"Of course it is." The bird lampooned.
Merrin allowed it for now and asked, "So she has become a caster? You said she could."
"No." The bird retracted to its smaller size. "She would require greater force to break through."
"To snap."
"Whatever."
Merrin drifted up a bit, feeling the wind against the flesh. The scent of ash—goodness. "So, all it takes to become a caster is to have force driven into the body?"
"An extreme amount of it, yes." The bird said, "Your world already has that in abundance, some simply require a trigger to break—snap into it. Others can be forced in."
"With force."
The bird said nothing, but the context was known regardless. What power has he gained now? God. Now, he had the means to boost that claim. Creator of casters, a feat attributed solely to the Father above, now, he, too, can claim such. Repulsive. What happens now? Does he sail the winds to throw God from his throne of Splendor? What a dangerous thing he had become.
El'shadie. The one who will never die.
Merrin breathed calmly, it failed, the heart pounding against the breastbone. What power he had in his hands….Eyes drifted down the pale skin, those gaunt fingers. Such marvels they can now wrought.
He sighed…Never revel in it. A needed reminder of how seductive the addiction would prove to become. Never break. Always remember when he was a mere human, scrabbling for anything. Not once, not one day, he must always remember when the Ashman was him.
But for now…Merrin drifted down, floating, inches from the beaded earth. He thought something and asked, "What exactly is a companion?"
The bird circled the heavens once more and delved down through the howling winds. A blurring sable dot. A moment, and it perched atop his left shoulder, weightless, odd. It cawed: "What exactly is that?"
"I don't know, some partner of the El'shadie," Merrin said, mind split between thoughts. "Yoid said he was that."
The bird chuckled. "What nonsense is that? The El'shaide is the greatest power in the intoned creation; what use is a companion?"
Merrin found something important in the bird's words but reined it for later. So yoid was lying…"So there's no such thing?"
"I'm sure repetition isn't required."
"But what about the feelings, the emotions?" Merrin said, "How did my sensations pattern with his words?"
"Simple casting." The bird chirped, "You are so mundane in your abilities that even the simplest tricks become paramount in your existence." It chuckled. "stormBringer!" That was a mockery.
Merrin hooked the shoulder, the bird flapping to the sky, laughing. There was indeed truth to its words: Simple tricks become paramount in his existence. veilCounsel, what was that? What was it to him? Shadows, surely, the darkness. All familiar constructs to his nature. In a way, an Ashman seemed the most suited to that order than the air-fat lowlanders. Yet, here he was, unsure of how to act.
Chaos will rule once my people realize I'm also as blind as any beast. Shiver washed his nerves, head snapping to the far horizon of this world. Endless to even his ocular powers. Beautiful, regardless.
How to be a veilCounsel. A day remained, perhaps, and the sacred caster came for him. Maybe they already had, given the events. What happens then? Would he stand strong before that power, making demands, or be swept by the very wind he marshaled now?
Dilemmas, all of it.
He sat on his knees, fiddling with the raven sleek balls across the scape in the cognitive scape, as the bird had said. Varying words. Then, there was the matter of Auwale, the shaedoan, whatever that was.
A strange man, a caster or not, powerful anyway. He was their savior—the sun witnesses might delude themselves with other notions, but Merrin knew. Without the shaedoran, damnation would have known them all. Surely. Despite his wishes, this remained factual.
A sigh escaped his lungs, the beads chilling to the touch. "I need to clear my head."
"How would you do that?" It twirled in the air, a strange dance of sorts. "Are you going to dance again? It's nice to see, you know, that dance of yours. Do it again."
First compliment, I think. Merrin said nothing, stood, fiddling with the bead. "No," Finally. "I am God. So I think I should create."
"What is this?" The bird passed through a cloud, dragging trails of grey fume. "Are you different now?" Its laughs were like thunder. Powerful. But too familiar to strike any order of emotion. Instead, Merrin tossed the ball to a pile of others, watching it click against the rest.
"You said I have been neglecting to learn my Powers as El'shadie. Being mundane with what I can do. Maybe you are right. Maybe you aren't."
"Hardly."
"But I hope for something." Merrin forgave the distraction, feeling his feet over the land. "My people will dream someday. I want them to dream of Paradise. Their own personal heaven. Artificial or not, I can create anything in this world, and with the dream castle, I can link them into it."
"You would plunge them into the…plague." It stiffened a chuckle.
"No." Merrin said, "They will simply be visiting this world in their dreams. A fantasy world where they will forget. Where I will forget."
"Interesting."
"You were right." Merrin looked to the flying bird. "I should play the early role. I should embrace whatever it is this was. And what god does not have a heaven?"
He waved, and the beads shone—mountains erupting from the earth, stretching to the furthest sky, looming. Slowly, his fingers dragged across the firmament, tearing lines of vibrant hues. A painted heaven. Beneath, red flora stretched over the land, like a tide of water, moving, vast. He took to the sky, viewing the world from above.
A paradise was the object of this creation.
A single thought and the world listened. From his memories, he constructed a land—a span of mountain ranges, hallowed within. Together. The undermines taught him that. Of course, this was the beginning. Creation did not end in a day. He would make this a paradise fit for all people; a world of marvelous dreams.
Easier, perhaps, he could construct their dreams based on the collected memories. The castle could do that. Burrow into their minds…However, that, as the Fallen did, sustained the world with their force. Hence, eventually, they were depleted. Dead.
He would not take any souls, never. So he created harmony. As he learned, as he grew, so would this world—the forever project—one for all. The El'shadie lived too long. Good. Now, a reason existed for it. Forever to remain here. He would build, learn, build…
Merrin watched as water tore through a mountain, spilling over the side of the rock, and descending into a tributary, ending in a vast river. How massive this world seemed as he built in it. Creation from the spread of red flora, crystalline waters, dark mountains, gold hills, and clouds of numerous hues. In the center lay a single dot—the dream castle. A beacon that brought his people to his heaven.
He stole a breath and dropped from the sky, suddenly, smashing into the earth, dust fountaining. What? Merrin trembled over the land, flesh like a thousand hardened stones. Heavy. He tried to scream, a weak rasp echoed instead. So tired. Skin-bones deprived of the simplest strength.
The bird circled him, chuckling. "I wonder why god has stopped?" It said, "Even god needs to rest. Play the early role, you say. You forget the early role means the early self. The weaker self. The less contained form."
I'm out of force? Breath was thin, chest burning. That meant his nostrils were deprived of the gasping strength. Mist it! Am I going to die because I can't breathe?