**Chapter 20: "Mastering the Soul"**

The moment the First Weaver’s energy fully integrated with me, it felt like my mind exploded. Not in a painful way, more like… a sensory overload cranked up to eleven. Suddenly, I wasn’t just *Elias*, the mage with a death sentence and a vengeful streak. I was connected to something… bigger. Vast, ancient, and terrifyingly complex.

Visions slammed into me – snippets of lives lived and lost, fragments of forgotten battles between gods and demons, the ebb and flow of souls through the ages. My eyes were closed, but I saw everything. Not just saw, *felt*. The burning joy of creation, the chilling despair of destruction. It was too much.

The First Weaver’s voice, though silent, echoed in my mind. *Focus, Elias. Breathe. Let the knowledge flow, but do not let it drown you.*

Easier said than done. I was practically drowning in information. Souls weren't just… souls. They were threads in a cosmic tapestry, each one connected to countless others, influencing reality in ways I'd never imagined. The divine and infernal weren’t opposing forces, but two sides of the same coin, constantly interacting, constantly striving for balance.

I felt the power within me, the Soul Weaving magic awakening, hungry and demanding control. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. I wanted to weave, to create, to fix what Keala had broken, but I also knew one wrong move could unravel everything.

The connection to the demon brand on my wrist throbbed, a dark counterpoint to the Weaver’s light. I could feel the pull, the temptation to embrace the infernal, to let the darkness consume me.

Lyra, meanwhile, was probably having a pretty boring time. I tried to picture her face, but the visions kept swirling, pulling me under. I hoped she was okay.

*Lyra is fighting an endless battle to keep him safe* The Weaver seemed to say to me through our connection. Then she is doing more that I ever imagined. I never knew she was this strong, honestly.

Practicing and focusing on what the Weaver was saying, I took a deep breath, trying to sift through the tidal wave of information, to find something, anything, to anchor myself. The balance between the divine and infernal. The threads that held reality together. Control. That was the key.

The overwhelming flood of information slowly receded, replaced by something more manageable – practical exercises. The First Weaver, or perhaps it was now just my own subconscious guided by his essence, began to walk me through the basics of Soul Weaving.

We started small. Weaving strands of energy, manipulating illusions. Simple enough at first, but each exercise was designed to push my limits, to test my control. I had to learn to focus the energy to manifest, to transform. I learned that everything is connected in one way or another, whether we want it to or not.

*Visualize, Elias. Feel the energy flowing through you. Channel it with intention.*

I focused on a loose stone on the temple floor, trying to lift it with my mind. I could feel the energy coursing through me, a tingling sensation in my fingertips. The stone trembled, but wouldn’t budge.

*More. Focus your will.*

I pushed harder, imagining the stone floating in the air. My head started to throb, sweat trickled down my forehead. The stone lifted an inch, then crashed back down.

“Damn it,” I muttered, frustrated.

*Patience, Elias. This is a subtle art. It requires precision, not brute force.* Again, the Weaver’s calm, reassuring voice echoed in my mind.

It wasn’t just about lifting stones. It was about manipulating souls, mending fractured realities. The stakes were a hell of a lot higher.

Then, the Weaver began to guide me on controlling the flow of demonic energy within me, that demon power that I traded my life for that I had to contain to prevent it from consuming me. It was like trying to hold back a dam with my bare hands, fighting with my own self. The demonic brand on my wrist burned, a constant reminder of the price I had payed and was constantly going to pay for this power. I managed to slowly put the energy away, learning to coexist with it instead of it. It was a big deal and was a major step.

As my training progressed, the true nature of the Gods and Demons began to reveal itself. It wasn’t the black-and-white picture I’d always been taught. Good versus evil. Light versus darkness. It was far more nuanced, far more complex.

The Gods, for all their benevolence, were distant and detached, often more concerned with maintaining the cosmic order than with the plight of mortals. The Demons weren’t inherently evil, but creatures of chaos, bound by their own codes and desires. They were reflections of mortal desires and pain.

I saw glimpses of the First Weaver’s own past, his struggles to balance these forces, the mistakes he made, the lives he shattered in the process of discovery. I am starting to regret a lot of my decisions.

The revelations shook me to my core. Everything I thought I knew was wrong.

*The barrier, Elias… it is not a wall to keep the demons at bay* The Weaver’s voice was heavy with sorrow, *It is a membrane… a delicate balance between realms. Each act of Soul Weaving affects it, strengthens or weakens it.*

I witnessed what happened when unchecked power, people who sought to exploit Soul Weaving for their own gain, did to the world. I am never doing that so I can leave some for others.

The climax of my training arrived with a chilling revelation. Azazel. One question at the time, who is Azazel? The God of Chaos, one of the first demons to exist, and the entity that gave my soul such a short time.

*Azazel has agreed with your terms. You have until then to discover the secrets* I saw the vision of Azazel again, in it's truest state.

The First Weaver revealed a final piece of knowledge: Azazel’s true name. A word of power, a key to control. It was a dangerous gamble, a shortcut to power that could corrupt me, but it was also my only chance to negotiate with Azazel, to potentially break our pact.

*Know, Elias, that this name is not to be taken lightly* The Weaver’s voice was stern, *It is a weapon, and like any weapon, it can be used for good or evil. The choice is yours.*

I grappled with the weight of that choice. Using Azazel’s true name felt… wrong. Like violating his essence, stripping him of his agency. But what choice did I have? My soul was on the line. Could I truly be better than everyone if I am in a pact?

*You are the only one who can change it, Elias"* The Weaver says. After all that I have done?

I glanced over, mentally, at Lyra. She was sparring with herself with her own illusions, keeping her blade sharpened. I could feel her unease, her unspoken disapproval. I knew she wouldn’t agree with me using Azazel’s name. She feared the consequences, the potential for corruption. Not that I blamed her. But I knew I had to do it. The only thing she wanted was to help me.

After what felt like an eternity, the training was complete. The visions faded, the voices quieted, the energy settled. I emerged from the trance-like state, transformed.

I looked down at my hands, seeing the faint shimmer of Soul Weaving energy flowing through my veins. The demonic brand on my wrist still pulsed, but it felt… different. Contained, not consuming. What even am I at this point?

The First Weaver began to fade, his form becoming more translucent, more ephemeral. I reached out, but my hand passed right through him.

*My time is done, Elias* His voice was warm and gentle, *The power is yours now. Use it wisely. Protect the balance.*

With a final surge of energy, he vanished, his essence merging with mine, becoming a part of me. I was alone, but I wasn’t alone. I carried his knowledge, his wisdom, his burden.

I opened my eyes, finally back in the physical world. The temple was still bathed in the ethereal glow of Soul Weaving energy. The runes on the walls pulsed with newfound power. Everything felt… different. Charged. Alive.

I looked around for Lyra, but she was slumped against a pillar, fast asleep. Her sword lay discarded beside her, glinting in the light. She must have been exhausted, guarding me all this time.

I walked over to her, kneeling beside her. She looked peaceful, her brow unfurrowed, her expression relaxed. She deserved a break. Especially with me using her as a pawn in whatever crazy thing I am getting myself into without telling her.

I gently shook her shoulder. “Lyra,” I whispered. “Wake up. It’s over.”

Her eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding her features. “Elias?” she mumbled, “What… what happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m… better than okay,” I said, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “I think I finally know what I need to do.” And maybe, with that, everything has its changes.