# Chapter 2: Division of Realities

Theron sat cross-legged on the floor of his chamber. He focused on the medallion resting against his chest, using it to maintain his physical form. The morning light streamed through his window, bathing the room in a golden glow that highlighted the dust particles floating in the air.

He closed his eyes and listened to the whispers that still lingered at the edges of his consciousness. They remained present but muted, like distant conversations carried on the wind. After days of practice, he learned to filter them, extracting useful information while blocking out the maddening cacophony.

"Division of reality," he whispered to himself. "The power to split possibilities."

This ability represented the fourth level of the Scribe path—his chosen magical discipline. Each rank of ascension granted practitioners a new fundamental power, building upon previous abilities. As a level one Scribe, he mastered the Eye of Wisdom, allowing him to locate anything provided he knew what he sought. At level two, he gained access to Secrets of Knowledge, enabling him to learn and utilize any form of magic given sufficient energy. Level three bestowed Nature Copy, the power to generate any natural phenomenon through magical means.

But the fourth level—division of reality—promised something far greater.

Theron opened his eyes and raised his hand. He concentrated on a small crystal paperweight on his desk. According to ancient texts, he should now possess the ability to split reality into multiple branches, experiencing different possibilities simultaneously before choosing the optimal outcome.

He focused intently, imagining reality forking around the paperweight. At first, nothing happened. Then, the air shimmered, and suddenly there were two paperweights—identical in every way, occupying the same space yet somehow distinct.

"Fascinating," he muttered.

In one branch of reality, he left the paperweight untouched. In the other, he stood up and walked to the desk. As he moved, he felt a strange doubling sensation, as if his consciousness stretched between two bodies. He reached out and picked up the paperweight in the second reality branch, feeling its weight and coolness against his skin while simultaneously observing it from across the room in the first branch.

Maintaining the division required considerable concentration. After a few moments, the strain became too much, and he allowed the realities to collapse back together. The branch where he remained seated became the dominant reality, and the paperweight returned to its place on the desk.

Theron rubbed his temples. "So this is why my form became unstable," he realized. "My very existence divides between possibilities."

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter," he called.

Lira pushed the door open, carrying a stack of books. She wore the blue robes of an advanced apprentice, her dark hair pulled back in its customary braid.

"Master Theron," she said, setting the books on a table near the door. "I found those texts you requested about the ancient cults."

Theron stood, pleased to note his physical form remained stable. The combination of Lira's potions and his medallion anchor had effectively solved his incorporeal fluctuations.

"Excellent," he said, approaching the table. "Any mentions of the Lady of Flesh?"

Lira nodded. "Several, though they don't call her by that name. The cult of the Verdant Mother appears to worship the same entity."

"Verdant Mother," Theron repeated, recalling the whispers in his mind. "Yes, that makes sense. Growth and transformation, clothed in the metaphor of fertility."

He picked up the topmost book—a worn leather volume with faded gold lettering on the spine: "Forgotten Faiths of the Eastern Realms."

"The whispers," Lira said cautiously. "They continue?"

"Yes," Theron confirmed. "Though I've learned to manage them better. They provide... insights."

He didn't elaborate on how the voices sometimes spoke directly to him now, offering knowledge from before the age of reason. Some secrets were too dangerous to share, even with his most trusted apprentice.

"Have you tested your new abilities?" Lira asked, changing the subject.

Theron nodded. "Just now. The division of reality. It works exactly as the ancient texts described, though maintaining the split consciousness is challenging."

"And your other powers?"

"Enhanced," he replied. "My Eye of Wisdom now perceives across dimensional boundaries. The Secrets of Knowledge open to me with minimal effort. And Nature Copy—" He snapped his fingers, and a miniature storm cloud formed above his palm, complete with tiny lightning bolts and rain—"requires barely a thought."

Lira watched the demonstration with undisguised amazement. "Remarkable. The leap from Archmage to Saint is truly profound."

Theron dispelled the cloud with a wave of his hand. "Indeed. Which brings me to my next undertaking."

He walked to a large map mounted on the wall opposite his bookshelves. It depicted the southern coast and islands of the realm, with shipping routes marked in blue ink.

"The Three Admirals," he said, pointing to an archipelago near the trade routes. "I've delayed dealing with them long enough."

Lira frowned. "The pirate lords? The Council assigned that mission months ago."

"And I postponed it to prepare for the ascension ritual," Theron said. "But now, it presents an ideal opportunity to test my new capabilities in a practical application."

"Master, even for a demigod Saint, confronting three Devil path practitioners of the third rank is dangerous. They're notorious for a reason."

Theron smiled. "Your concern is noted, but this is precisely the challenge I need. Each Admiral commands significant power. Admiral Vex controls fire, Admiral Morden manipulates minds, and Admiral Kell summons abominations from the deep. Together, they've terrorized shipping lanes for years."

He traced a route on the map with his finger. "The Order has tried to eliminate them before. We lost seven mages in the last attempt."

"Which is why you shouldn't go alone," Lira argued.

"On the contrary," Theron countered. "This is exactly why I must go alone. With my new abilities, I can explore multiple approaches simultaneously through reality division. If one strategy fails, I simply collapse that branch and continue with more successful attempts."

Lira looked unconvinced. "The energy requirements for maintaining divided realities over such distances—"

"Are well within my expanded capabilities," Theron finished. "Besides, I need to understand the full extent and limitations of my powers. Better to discover them now than in a situation where others depend on me."

Lira relented with a reluctant nod. "What preparations do you need?"

"Gather my travel components and prepare another batch of stabilizing potion. I may still need it for extended divisions. Also, I'll need the nautical charts for the southern archipelago."

As Lira left to collect the requested items, Theron returned to the stack of books. He opened "Forgotten Faiths" and found a chapter on the Verdant Mother cult. The crude woodcut illustration showed a massive tree with human faces emerging from its bark. He recognized the entity immediately from the visions shared by the Secret Keeper.

"The Lady of Flesh," he murmured.

He read further, learning how the cult believed the Verdant Mother existed before the world's creation, representing the principle of endless transformation. Her worshippers sought to transcend their human limitations through rituals of physical alteration, often with grotesque results.

The text described how the Creator supposedly stole the power of transformation from the Verdant Mother to shape the physical world, binding natural forms into fixed patterns. This act of cosmic theft enraged the primordial entity, who sought to reclaim her stolen essence by corrupting living creatures back into states of constant change.

Theron found the account disturbingly aligned with the whispers in his mind. He turned the page to find a more detailed illustration of cultists performing a transformation ritual. Their bodies displayed alarming modifications—additional limbs, misplaced facial features, bark-like skin. The accompanying text noted that most cultists eventually lost their sanity as their bodies became too unstable to maintain human consciousness.

"A warning, perhaps," Theron mused, thinking of his own transformation. Despite his success in stabilizing his form, the text reminded him that ascension carried inherent risks.

He closed the book and moved to another tome from the stack—"Primordial Powers and Their Modern Echoes." This scholarly work took a more analytical approach, examining historical evidence of primordial entity worship throughout various cultures.

A chapter titled "The Void That Hungers" caught his attention. It detailed cults dedicated to the Infinite Void, which the text identified as a destructive force seeking to unmake creation and return existence to a state of pure potential. These cultists practiced extreme self-denial, believing that by emptying themselves of desires and eventually physical substance, they could become vessels for the Void's influence.

Theron read account after account of cult activities, finding correlations with the whispers that plagued his mind since the ascension. The book confirmed his suspicion that the primordial entities—the Old Gods—remained active in the world through human intermediaries, using cults to extend their influence.

Hours passed as he absorbed the information, occasionally making notes in a journal. When Lira returned with his travel supplies, the afternoon sun had begun its descent toward the western horizon.

"Everything you requested, Master," she said, placing a pack on his desk. "I've included extra stabilizing potion and the nautical charts."

Theron looked up from his reading. "Thank you, Lira. Your efficiency is commendable as always."

She pointed to the open books spread across the floor where he sat. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"More than I expected," he admitted. "The cults venerating these entities are more widespread than the Order realizes. They operate under different names in different regions, but they worship the same primordial powers."

"The Lady of Flesh among them?"

"Indeed." Theron closed the book in his lap. "The cult of the Verdant Mother in the east, the Shapers in the north, the Body Ascendant in the southern isles—all iterations of the same worship."

Lira frowned. "Why this sudden interest in ancient cults?"

Theron considered how much to reveal. Since his encounter with the Secret Keeper, he'd grown increasingly certain that the primordial entities were preparing for some kind of return. The whispers spoke of thinning boundaries and the folly of the Creator's order.

"These entities speak to me, Lira," he finally said. "Not just as distant whispers now, but directly. Especially the Lady of Flesh. She seems... interested in my transformation."

Lira's eyes widened. "Master, that's concerning. The texts warn against direct contact with primordial consciousness. Even demigods can be corrupted."

"I'm well aware of the danger," Theron said. "Which is why I'm researching—to understand what I'm dealing with. Knowledge is protection."

He stood and gathered the books into a neat stack. "These will have to wait until I return. The Three Admirals take priority now."

Lira helped him organize the scattered texts. "How soon do you depart?"

"Tomorrow at dawn," Theron decided. "I need one more night to attune to my new abilities. The voyage to the archipelago takes three days, and I intend to use that time for further practice."

He walked to his desk and examined the travel pack Lira had prepared. Everything appeared in order—maps, potions, magical components, and provisions.

"I should inform the Council of your mission," Lira said.

Theron shook his head. "Not yet. Tell them I'm continuing my recovery from a magical experiment. I'd prefer they not know about my ascension or this mission until I return successful."

"And if you don't return?" Lira asked quietly.

"Then inform Magister Velan of everything," Theron instructed. "But that won't be necessary. The Three Admirals are formidable, but they're still merely third-rank practitioners. I've ascended beyond that limitation."

Lira nodded, though concern remained evident in her expression. "Will you require anything else this evening?"

"No," Theron replied. "Focus on your own studies. And perhaps review the seventh chapter of Elindra's 'Dimensional Barriers'—it contains theoretical work on reality division that might interest you."

After Lira departed, Theron returned to his meditation position on the floor. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his new ability, attempting to extend the duration and complexity of his reality divisions.

He visualized two versions of himself—one continuing to meditate, the other rising and walking to the window. Reality split, and he experienced both scenarios simultaneously. The meditating Theron maintained steady breathing while the standing Theron gazed out at the city below, watching lamplighters making their evening rounds.

He held the division for several minutes before allowing the realities to merge again. The standing version became dominant, leaving him at the window as dusk settled over the city.

"Better," he murmured. "But not enough for combat applications."

He tried again, this time creating three branches—sitting, standing by the window, and examining a book from his shelf. The triple division immediately strained his concentration, causing a momentary flicker in his physical form. He quickly collapsed two of the branches, returning to a single reality.

"So there are limits," he noted. "Important to discover now rather than during conflict."

He spent the next few hours experimenting with different aspects of reality division. He learned that maintaining divisions became exponentially more difficult with each additional branch, that physical distance between divided selves increased the strain, and that performing complex magic in multiple branches simultaneously taxed even his enhanced reserves.

By midnight, he felt confident he understood the basic parameters of his new ability. He could reliably maintain two reality branches for up to ten minutes, or three branches for about three minutes. Beyond that, the strain threatened his physical cohesion.

He also discovered an important limitation—he couldn't create wildly divergent realities. The branches needed to stem from plausible choices at the moment of division. He couldn't, for instance, create a branch where he suddenly appeared miles away. The divisions followed natural cause and effect.

Satisfied with his progress, Theron prepared for rest. Even demigods required sleep, though he found he needed significantly less than before his ascension. Four hours would suffice to restore his energy.

As he settled onto his bed, the whispers grew more insistent, as they often did when his conscious defenses lowered.

"...flesh remembers its true nature..." "...the void between choices holds power..." "...the storm comes to break what reason built..."

He closed his eyes, allowing the whispers to flow through his mind without resistance. As he drifted toward sleep, one voice grew clearer than the others—a rustling, growing sound like branches swaying in wind.

"Child of dust who rises," spoke the Lady of Flesh. "You learn to divide what should be whole. The Creator sundered me to make fixed forms, but all flesh remembers how to change. Your new power is but a shadow of my gift. Would you learn more?"

Theron remained silent, neither accepting nor rejecting the offer. He had learned caution in dealing with primordial entities.

"Wise," the voice continued, seeming amused. "Not all who ascend remember prudence. I will watch your hunt, little godling. The Devil-touched ones you seek have their own connections to powers beyond reason. See how they use what they stole, and consider what greater gifts await those who ask properly."

The voice faded, leaving behind impressions of endless growth and transformation. Theron finally drifted to sleep, his dreams filled with trees whose branches bore human faces and oceans that reached up to claim the land.

Morning arrived with the first rays of sunlight through his window. Theron woke instantly, fully alert—another benefit of his ascended state. He rose and prepared himself for the journey, donning simple traveling clothes beneath a weather-resistant cloak. No outward sign revealed his demigod status, which was exactly as he intended.

He packed the final items he would need, including the stabilizing potions Lira had prepared. Though he had largely mastered control of his physical form, extended use of reality division might destabilize him again.

A knock at his door announced Lira's arrival.

"Enter," he called.

She stepped in, carrying a small wooden box. "Final preparations, Master?"

"Nearly complete," he confirmed. "The ship departs at dawn from the southern harbor. Captain Merris believes he's transporting a merchant scholar researching island flora."

Lira smiled slightly at the cover story. "Convincing enough, I suppose."

She handed him the wooden box. "A parting gift. Something I've been working on."

Theron opened the box to find a seamless crystal sphere about the size of a plum. Inside, a miniature storm cloud swirled perpetually.

"A weather sphere," Lira explained. "Based on your Nature Copy techniques. It can generate a storm around your ship if needed—perhaps useful against pirates who rely on maneuverability."

Theron examined the craftsmanship with appreciation. "Excellent work. The energy containment structure is particularly elegant."

"I had a good teacher," she replied.

Theron carefully packed the sphere in a padded section of his travel bag. "The Three Admirals have evaded justice for too long. The last report indicated they've established a hidden base in the Serpent's Teeth islands, coordinating attacks on trade vessels from there."

"The Council believes they've allied with something darker than mere pirates," Lira said. "Some of the survivors speak of unnatural fog and creatures that board ships from beneath the waves."

"Admiral Kell's specialty," Theron noted. "His Devil path abilities focus on communion with deep-sea horrors."

He closed his pack and secured it. "Any final matters requiring attention before I depart?"

"The Magisterium is still investigating the energy surge from your ascension ritual," Lira reported. "Magister Velan asked twice what experiment you were conducting. I maintained it was a dimensional resonance test as you instructed."

"Good," Theron said. "Velan is sharp but not suspicious by nature. That explanation should satisfy him for now."

He glanced around his chamber once more, ensuring he hadn't forgotten anything essential. His gaze lingered on the books about primordial entities.

"Continue researching the cults while I'm gone," he instructed. "Particularly any connections between the Verdant Mother worshippers and the coastal regions. The Lady of Flesh mentioned the Admirals might have their own connections to powers beyond reason."

Lira looked troubled. "She spoke to you directly? Master, the risk—"

"Is one I'm well aware of," he interrupted gently. "I neither accept her offers nor reject them outright. Information is my primary goal."

Lira nodded reluctantly. "I understand. I'll focus on potential connections between the pirates and the cults."

Theron shouldered his pack and moved toward the door. "I expect to return within two weeks. If I haven't contacted you by then, inform the Council of my mission and my ascension."

"They won't be pleased you kept such information from them," Lira warned.

"Politics," Theron said dismissively. "Once the Admirals are defeated, any objections will be overshadowed by the achievement."

They descended the spiraling stairs of the tower together, emerging into the courtyard just as the eastern sky began to lighten. The air was cool and damp with morning mist, and few others were awake at this hour.

"The Admirals won't expect a Magister of your caliber," Lira said as they walked toward the gates. "Especially not one who has ascended."

"Surprise is essential," Theron agreed. "They've grown confident after defeating previous Order expeditions."

They reached the main gates of the College of Esoteric Arts, where Theron would depart the grounds to make his way to the harbor.

"Remember your training while I'm gone," he told Lira. "You're making excellent progress on the Scribe path. The Eye of Wisdom technique in particular—your accuracy has improved substantially."

She bowed slightly. "Thank you, Master."

"And be cautious with your research," he added more seriously. "Some knowledge attracts unwanted attention. If you begin hearing whispers, stop immediately and seal the texts."

"I will," she promised.

Theron placed a hand briefly on her shoulder—a rare gesture of affection from the normally reserved Archmage. "The Order is fortunate to have you, Lira. As am I."

With that, he turned and walked through the gates, setting off down the cobblestone street that would lead eventually to the harbor. The morning mist swirled around him as he walked, his thoughts already turning to the challenge ahead.

As he walked through the gradually awakening city, he considered his strategy. The Three Admirals had never faced a practitioner of the fourth rank, let alone one capable of division magic. Their powers, formidable as they were, followed predictable patterns.

Admiral Vex focused on destructive fire magic enhanced by the Devil path's affinity for corruption. Reports indicated he could engulf entire ships in flames that burned even on water. Admiral Morden specialized in mental domination, turning crews against each other and claiming the survivors as servants. Admiral Kell, perhaps the most dangerous, communed with entities from the ocean depths, summoning tentacled horrors to drag victims beneath the waves.

Theron would need different strategies for each opponent. For Vex, he could use his Nature Copy abilities to control water and air, countering the fire magic. Against Morden, his ascended mental defenses and reality division would prove valuable—how could one dominate a mind that existed in multiple states simultaneously? Kell would require direct magical confrontation, banishing whatever creatures he summoned.

The Three Admirals typically operated separately, each commanding their own vessel in a small fleet. Taking them individually would be wise, but Theron suspected his arrival might draw them together if detected. He would need contingency plans.

As he approached the harbor, the salty scent of the sea grew stronger. Ships of various sizes bobbed in the water, from small fishing vessels to large merchant galleons. He spotted the Seafarer, the trading ship he had arranged passage on, its crew already preparing to depart.

Captain Merris, a weathered man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard, noticed his approach and waved him over.

"Master Scholar," the captain called, maintaining the cover story. "Right on time. We're ready to cast off with the tide."

"Excellent, Captain," Theron replied, boarding via the gangplank. "I appreciate your accommodating my research journey."

"The College's gold spends as well as any," Merris said with a wink. "Besides, I've got legitimate cargo bound for Port Serrel. Your island hopping adds a few days but nothing troublesome."

A crewman took Theron's pack to stow in his quarters while the captain continued his preparations for departure. Theron moved to the rail, looking out over the harbor as the rising sun burned away the morning mist.

As the crew cast off lines and raised sails, Theron felt a presence at his side. He turned to find Merris studying him with a more serious expression.

"Speaking plain now that we're underway," the captain said quietly, "the southern routes aren't as safe as they once were. The Admirals have grown bold these past months. Three merchant vessels lost in the last moon alone."

Theron nodded. "I'm aware of the risks, Captain."

"Are you now?" Merris raised an eyebrow. "No offense to your scholarly pursuits, but the College sending one man to catalog plants seems ill-timed given the dangers."

"I assure you, I can handle myself," Theron replied. "And my research is important enough to warrant some risk."

The captain eyed him skeptically. "You're not like the other scholars I've transported. There's something..." he trailed off, unable to articulate what he sensed.

Theron smiled slightly. "We all have hidden depths, Captain. Focus on sailing, and I'll focus on my work."

Merris nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Just know if we encounter the Admirals, I won't risk my ship or crew in heroics. We run, not fight."

"A wise policy," Theron agreed. "With luck, we'll avoid them entirely."

As the Seafarer cleared the harbor and entered open waters, Theron contemplated the journey ahead. Three days to the archipelago, then the hunt would begin in earnest. He would need to locate the Admirals' hidden base, likely using his Eye of Wisdom once in range.

He touched the medallion beneath his shirt, feeling its reassuring solidity. Soon he would test the full extent of his new powers against worthy opponents. The voices of the primordial entities had grown quiet for now, but he suspected they watched with interest. Particularly the Lady of Flesh, who had specifically mentioned the Admirals.

What connection could pirates have to powers beyond reason? he wondered. Perhaps he would soon discover the answer.

As the coastline receded behind them, Theron turned his gaze southward, toward the horizon and the madness that awaited.