Volk Stood on the hill looking down the gravel road that led between wheat fields, across the bridge and up to the gate of the town that he had waited centuries to see again. He lifted his right arm and made a complicated but strangely graceful gesture.
“Cnendril!”-Volk
He stood there waiting with his arm up, then shook his head.
-Right. No physical body, no spiritual space between body and soul, no crafted magic circles in said spiritual space to hold magic spells.
“Dadwen- na I eredh. No, I should get used to Common Hume again. Since I have no magic circles to store and run the spell, every magic has to be crafted and cast in its entirety. I think the after-life is going to force me to re-examine my spell efficiency, or drive me back to life out of shear frustration.”-Volk
He stood for a moment in concentration then moved his hands as if he was painting or weaving. Dust, mist and light started to coalesce into a humanoid figure, eventually fading into an exact copy of himself standing a meter in front of him.
-Garbage! I failed to set the illusion properly to the ground. I think I have gotten careless relying on my preprogramed spells. So, re-examine efficiency and attention to detail.
He examined the projected still image, walking around it to view the back as well. Volk stood 185 cm, clad in a matte grey robe with black highlights and ruby red sigils. His hair was his usual annoyingly long, and vanity pleasing length down his back, red-ish blond salted with white at his temples. His vivid green eyes, sharp features, and pointed ears explained his excessively long life.
“My soul image looks good for such an old elf, not that I kept count after I hit my eighth century”-Volk
Volk nodded at his image again, then dismissed it with a small wave.
“Now to some of those details.”-Volk
Volk closed his eyes and looked inward to a vast space filled with clouds of different aspected magicicles that were slowly spreading out, their edges already mingling.
-Maer. Some of the magic crossed with me, although not all nor in its original solidified form. The “Soul Hall” seems to be properly expanded. There should be enough room, and magicicles to form the crystalline core ring that will hold my spells.
Volk opened his eyes and looked closely at the plants nearby, then looked up the hill towards the phantom forest at its top.
-No phantom plants here. I don’t really need any neutral magic yet. Experiment first, then the magic mill if I need any more. The Phantom Forest last, no need to find out if the reincarnation cycle will pull me in till I am prepared. Speaking of souls.
He raised his hands and started to draw glowing lines in the air, the magicicle streamed from his soul hall in time to his will. Minutes passed as the complex construct of symbols, circles, and arcs took form. At the end he stood to one side of 3 meter wide, 3D construct of multi-coloured glowing lines.
-I wonder if any mortal will ever figure out that all of my “revolutionary” magic design is all based around the twists that I learned in the after-life so long ago? It would be amusing to see the faces of those stoic morons of the Elder Council of Magic if they found out.
Volk chuckled as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, wearing an entirely too childish grin on his mature face.
“Poking holes in those over inflated ego balloons aside, I really should find out if my new soul is stable.”-Volk
Cracks of static ran down his arms, as whirls of mist, red glowing sand, and distortions of light and dark form around his hands. Lines of magicicles flowed into different parts of the construct, flowing down the coloured lines, causing symbols and sigils to glow till the construct looked to be distorting the space around it by the sheer weight of power. The flow of magicicles stopped, leaving his arms and hands covered in teers, burns, and petrified ruin.
“Malk! That hurts! I forgot about this part.”-Volk
He shook his arms and fingers till they were mostly restored, and returned his attention to the magical construct.
-Looks stable. Maybe a bit blurry in a few spots, but pretty good. Now let's see if abandoning the world for 2 centuries while working on “Forbidden” magics was worth it.
Reaching out with a final push of magicicles caused the construct to contract to a fist sized ghostly green sphere which hovered for a moment before sliding into Volk’s chest. He froze, unmoving without thought, without animation. A dozen minutes passed, then the ghostly green sphere emerged slowly morphing into a new shape. Volk started again with his arm falling down.
-That didn’t take any time at all. Did it not work? The soul copy spell seems to be working though. It always took at least a few minutes when I tested it before. Maybe It works faster here in the after-life?
He shrugged and watched the green sphere morph and solidify till it become a complex shape of angles and folds in a roughly round shape. Volk reached out and began to “open” the virtual image with gestures and streams of magicicles
“I can’t wait till I rebuild my verbal command codex and I won't have to do every step by hand.”-Volk
After the image had been broken into hundreds of parts, he scrutinized each piece, slowly putting the whole puzzle back together.
-Nothing wrong. Everything is there. Every modification, every block of experience, every karmic record of good, evil, chaos and order. I bet even the gods wouldn’t realize that it’s entirely artificial.
“I did it! I split my life off and created an entirely new soul to house it”-Volk
Volk dismissed the soul image and looked up the hill at the Phantom Forest again.
“I hope you find you way to free your home my progenitor. This place is mine.”-Volk
Volk turned back to the town and smiled with joy.
“I hope the others are still here, if not I'll just wait for them.”-Volk
The elf began walking down the road a towards the town across the river. He was walking home.
