Souls, Runes, and Design

And so he gathered the books on the movements and machinations of the soul. The main event of this little foray into the Alterosi library. He took every book that he could find about Souls and mana, and the books specifically speaking of Death Magic. As well as compendiums on different dark magics.

He laid the books before him, before beginning he took a deep breath. These were dark matters and deep waters. He was going to assure that he understood everything that he himself was getting into, and that everything that he was doing was well understood. He first saw the soul. He saw what he had previously known, that it was the source of all mana, and that it was like a generator. A new limitless amount of mana, but it overheats, whirs, and under immense pressure, breaks and is destroyed.

He saw that its movements were fluid. Almost like water. It swirled and flowed in deliberate patterns along the mana circuits when it was forced to. It was ethereal, existing on the same plane as unused and stored mana. How appropriate. Just like the mana circuits, the runes he was researching could interact directly with the soul. But this was old news. He saw this.

With the books that he had found on Death magic, he saw exactly the procedure that death Magi would use in order to add to their ranks. They would stand on opposite sides of the subject, then rip his soul out, then place it back within them, then the other magi would do the same, and they alternated. Faster and faster until the soul had been faceted stably in its place. Strengthened by the constant ripping from its mana circuits, and being replanted. Removal of the soul kills. Every time they did it they killed and revived the subject. The subject was caught in a twilight zone between both life and death as long as the ritual was being done. They were neither dead nor living. And the time in this zone of both life and death. Pain and pleasure, was where the strength came from.

He redesigned everything from these revelations. He continued his work with the runes. The Iron maiden was fine and dandy but he needed something more. It could remove the soul, but not redirect it. It would have to be made custom. An iron maiden, and from there, on both sides, a contraption connected, heavily runic in natures. The soul would flow from the removal source in a lemniscus from the body, through the machine, back to the body, and through the other machine, and back through the body. Happening over and over and over again. One time after another.

He was quite sure that this would work. But he needed more test subjects. He needed people to sacrifice to these runes, and to test the runes on. The fall to depravity would be unavoidable by then. He would have to compromise his morals. But he was only acting on his own greatest Ideal. The greater good. His depravity was not borne of Sin. It was inherent. Borne of his need to defend everything that he had. And he cried.

The thing  he fought for most had not been seen in the last two years. It was disturbing to him. He hadn’t seen her in the last two years. Had she abandoned him. Left him alone and destitute? No that was impossible, wasn’t it? She loved him. She wouldn’t just toss him aside that a dog that wasn’t wanted anymore, would she? Impossible no.

This things would haunt him. Torment and stalk his mind as he placed the books back into their shelves. It would gnaw at him. Crush on him. Tear and Rend at his soul. He was angry. He was losing the only restraint he had on himself. In order to keep him from mad destruction and wanton blaze in order to get his way.