The Dimensional Jeweler

Journal of Nathaniel Faust, Practitioner of Mystic Science

22 Dec. 20–

So that’s it, then. Guess I got too hubristic for my own good. I only hope they let me stay on in New York. Even angels can fall from the sky.

I settled into the soothing bath, the sensations of lavender salt and fragrant oils tingling my skin and nose. As I drifted into the warm embrace of slumber, the waters of the master’s bath began to swirl around my manacled hands. This was not a relaxing day.

My Anima flowed out of my body, infusing into the bath as I began to drift further from my body. The bubbles dispersed for a dizzying moment, the burning orbs from my right side rushing faster ahead of the others. I would’ve thrown up if I’d had a body at the moment. I didn’t even feel the sealing cuffs anymore. The rush of colors and movement started slowing down, coalescing into a saturated version of the familiar near-dusk indigo, twinkling jewels bringing the only light into the space.

My right hand formed first, blazing into black reality in the Pool of Instinct. The terrible burning sensation seared harder than ever before, spreading from the pentagram through the entire arm and into my torso. It didn’t go away, even when the rest of my Anima body slowly bubbled together. I lay in the crystal-clear water for a while, trying to tamp down the pain to maintain my arm’s form as my very atoms revolted against themselves. It was like trying to keep a burning napalm sculpture from melting, the heat disrupting the usual serenity of the pool with black streams of bubbles.

The alien stars swam down from the ceiling, forming bonds of adamant light that swirled into my pool. The heavenly links wrapped around me, simultaneously soothing the still-pure side, though aggravating the burning half of my body. I gasped as my head broke the surface—whether from pain or the sensation of air, I don’t know—revealing the entirety of the Earth’s High Celestial Chamber.

Through the sopping hair of my Anima form I made out the shapes of the other sect representatives’ Animas: the Sun (Malina) and Moon (Taqqiq) Chiefs from Spirit; the old High Priestess (Kazuko) of Steadfast; the new Speaker of Prophecies (Illari) from Shining; Alastair (ugh) for Resolute; Linkage sent some unfortunate scryer, probably the only one from the overspread temple not out on a mission; and, of course, the old monk (Dorje) from Tibet’s Sage sect. The Magister Arcane (Khan) sat in his usual place at the foot of the court table. None of us could occupy the head, where the Amulet of the Supreme floated. The others took their usual seats. I was forced to my knees before them—glowering up with enough fury to match even the withering stare from Alastair.

“Masters and representatives,” Arcanus Khan addressed those at the table, his words conveyed through the spiritual aether of the chamber so that they rang out in every language ever conceived by humankind, “I imagine you can all guess why we’ve been assembled this grand night.” He nodded ever so slightly toward the Supreme’s seat.

“I was going to ask about that,” Malina piped up, “how can we need a new Supremus if the old one is still—”

“He never deserved it!” good ol’ Alastair slammed his fist on the table, “and it finally recognized him for the infidel he is—just like your” (here he pointed at the poor scryer) “traitor of a master.” The attention caused the young practitioner to blush violently enough to be seen in the dim starlight, most of which was concentrated in my bindings, and start sinking into herself.

“C’mon, man, that’s not cool, don’t bring an intern into this,” I chimed in. He responded by yelling at me until the Arcanus threatened to bind both our mouths.

“Ahem, as Second Lord Courtenay seems to mean, our erstwhile Supremus was… rejected by the Supreme’s tool, and,” Khan paused, leafing through The Words of Ancients as though he didn’t have the whole history of Earth’s mystics down pat, “if you look at the case… it would seem he—”

“He defiled it!” both Alastair and a new voice yelled.

The newcomer stepped out from behind me with the sound of tinkling glass. The only person able to enter the Celestial Chamber physically swept around to an empty seat. Realm Keeper Adrian. The man who put me in chains. The Master Mundane.

“Ah. You came after all,” was the general reaction to his presence among the older masters, though the younger in the room were noticeably confused about his being a fully-formed, fully-clothed person in a spiritual realm (the look of “who’s that” on Alastair’s face was priceless). Now that all potential members of the council were present, a roll was officially taken before business could be undertaken. The monk from Tibet was chosen to be leader, on account of seniority among the sect masters.

“We gather for two principal purposes tonight,” he said, reading the summons that had been sent out when I was arrested, “first, to decide on a new Master Supreme for the mystics of Earth, who will serve as primary leader of this council and as chief defender of our Realm from enemies foreign and domestic, mortal and immortal, and malicious or otherwise threatening. This being need not be present, human, nor even enlightened mystic at this time, but shall be judged by this council and by the…” The old man rattled off the rules of the selection process and all the other duties of the Supremus. My neck ached where the Amulet had been ripped off not two days before, leaving my head feeling unnaturally lighter.

“…sacred duties as shall be deemed necessary to maintain order,” the long instructions finished. We hadn’t needed them last time—I’d just inherited the position then.

“Are there any nominations?” Khan turned to the record of all past Supremis, Masters and my own signatures, somehow chastising me from across the room. Of course Alastair was the first to nominate themselves. The twins quickly nominated each other, followed shortly by the Linkage representative’s nomination of Duc Armand, who’d been helping out the Linkage sect ever since their master had disappeared suddenly. Mr Shiny Boots flushed slightly to hear someone else nominate his oh-so-esteemed master, though it made sense. The Resolute sect’s Viceroy had been the strongest around for a while, with the possible exception of the missing Sanie Al’Zili, of course, wielding the Blessed Blade as Magus Vigilus for nearly three decades by now.

“If he’s such a big deal, why isn’t Mr Armand here himself?” the Shining sect priest said once they started arguing about which nominee to choose, “I don’t see how someone can be worthy of this position if they pass off their duties to,” he gestured dismissively in Alastair’s direction.

“I agree,” Kazuko cut off London’s representative before he could explode at Cuzco’s new head, “the Duc is powerful, yes, but I find him a little… impetuous for the responsibility. The ideal for the Master Supreme is to be the wisest, not the strongest.” She nominated the aged lama, who had sat silently throughout the entire conversation. Dorje tried to oppose his own nomination, “It is not for the eldest to decide the future of any village. You would be better served teaching a strong, young leader wisdom than choosing a new wizened master every day.”

“If I could—” I tried to speak, earning a new glare from my former comrades and a new celestial gag forged from some of the remaining stars in the Chamber’s heavens. The representatives debated for a few hours, unable to get either a majority or even plurality to decide on any nominee. It didn’t help that half the Temple delegates didn’t even vote (the twins only had one vote and couldn’t agree, Alastair couldn’t decide between himself and his master, the Linkage representative was way out of their depth, and Adrian didn’t care). The whole time, remember, I was in complete agony as the right side of my Anima slowly burned away into hellfire.

I zoned out looking at the Master Mundane, remembering the events of the previous day.

---

I woke up to the screeching of my house spirits. All of their energy poured out in a great wail of helplessness. I’d never encountered anything like it outside of a full haunted house. I had to stop it immediately or risk losing my mind.

Fortunately, they told me exactly where it hurt. In my office, which felt like it took surprisingly long to get to without the spirits’ help, a bespectacled man in a night-blue suit sat in one of the easy chairs by the window. He also wore a cape with a grape-y violet lining. His lip quirked up a little at my surprise over his being there.

“Who are you?” I asked the obvious.

“I am the Keeper of the Realm,” he said, his voice bearing a slight Mediterranean accent, “and you, Master Supreme of all Earth’s Mystics, have broken the Law of your role.” I bristled at his words, pressing my hand against the Supreme Amulet, feeling the slight scorch mark in the shape of a star. It couldn’t be because of that. It was just a misunderstanding.

“So,” I settled in the other cozy chair, “you’re the one Master called the ‘Master Mundane.’”

The visitor rolled his eyes, “he always flaunted the Laws himself,” he threw something flat and round at me, like a lens from his pair of glasses, “but he never caused any cracks.” There was a slight scratch in the middle of the otherwise polished blue crystal.

“So? This doesn’t mean—”

“And he respected that,” he pointed to my neck, where my hand still rested on the enchanted amulet. The lenses in front of his eyes flashed, and I noticed there were no rims. Like a pair of floating monocles. He stood and the room dissolved in sparkles, though in a completely different way than the way Repentance travels around.

“How many lenses do you think there are?” the honorary Master asked, drifting over to a floating spiral of an uncountable number of crystals like the one in my hand, almost identical, though the color shifted almost imperceptibly from sky blue to magenta as they stretched off into the abyss. Staring up at the undulating “lenses,” my eyes couldn’t focus enough to make any out beyond the few immediately overhead.

“Infinite,” I breathed.

“Wrong,” he sighed like a teacher who’d just finished teaching calculus, just for a student to ask how to add 1+1, “there are precisely 8,564,737,802,911 lenses anchoring Earth’s realm in its proper place. You broke seventeen hundred and twelve—sixteen times more than even those Korean pop stars did when they shattered their country’s border with a demon realm.”

“Fine. How many do I need to kill?”

“Pardon?” my inquisitor looked scandalized.

“Demons,” I stepped beside him to look more closely at the nearest crystals, my face staring back at me from all the polished fractals, “how many demons or other beings did I let in by weakening our realm? I’ll just have to kill them.”

“None,” the gaze of the strangely dressed man’s reflections over my shoulder flashed like freezing steel.

“Then what’s a fraction of a fraction of all this,” I swept my arms towards the sky of sapphire, “compared to the safety of seven billion people?”

A strange wind picked up, swirling the crystals in a tinkling tornado. An immense pressure slammed into me from all sides, keeping me completely frozen in place.

“Do not pretend to comprehend the reality of the situation,” the Master Mundane boomed, “your arrogance proves your danger, and that mark,” he pointed at my amulet’s case, “proves your unworthiness.” He raised his hands in the dimensional magic basic form, like the “quiet coyote” sign, but with the thumbs curled over the middle fingers. The ethereal wind raised him into the air, his violet cape fluttering about him as crystals began collecting near and orbiting his body.

“You think you can beat me?” I adopted my usual dual stance, left hand extended offensively in the dimensional form, right held closer, defensively, in the spatial position, index and middle fingers extended, thumb resting on my curled ring finger. I didn’t feel like I would need any of my equipment, especially not the amulet. He was right about how arrogant I’d become.

“I may be the ‘mundane’ Master, who spends his days studying and cataloging any changes of the Realm’s lenses, but don’t think that makes me weak!” he flourished his hands in a way I’d never seen before, causing the lenses surrounding him to release a volley of indigo lights. The rush of luminous pinpricks broke before me as I made a small cutting motion with my right hand. With my left, I gathered the sparkling stuff, sending back a thirty-foot javelin at my attacker.

“That certainly seemed weak to me,” I shrouded my missile with greenish fire from hedgref just before it hit. A neat idea, but it all just glanced weakly off my opponent’s crystal “armor.”

“Then you don’t understand a basic principle of fighting,” he formed a pair of massive crystal gauntlets, smashing them down on my head, “begin with a feint to gauge your opponent’s defense.”

I raised my hands, combining the defensive wall with a chaotism wave, meant to liquify whatever spell he was using. Meant to. The crystal hands smashed right through my defenses, forcing me to the ground with a painful SLAM! My coat’s protections kept the attack from doing anything more than stunning me.

“Then, you attack with the beginning flourish,” the other Master kept lecturing, gathering together a greater mass of the crystals, forming them into a shape that vaguely resembled an old planetary model atom. Energy began pulsing in the center.

I’m not sure if it was instinct or intentional. My right hand formed the four-clawed infernal position. I grit my teeth as blazing black flames burned out from my palm. I roared, hurling a massive ball of hellfire at my enemy. The attack disrupted whatever he had been preparing, absorbing the energy with its magic-consuming blaze, though the lenses themselves were unaffected. He essentially shrugged it off, keeping at the spell. Shortly, he was able to reacquire the power, even adding more lenses to the orbital path.

“I knew you were only a pawn,” my enemy tutted, “you don’t deserve your seat.”

“You don’t have any authority to take it from me! It chose me after Master sacrificed—”

“Then prove it. The light from that amulet should be able to break through the Earth-Shattering darkness,” he started making the signs that indicated an absorption spell. The gathering energy turned the shade of the unlit craters of the crescent moon’s dark half.

Fine. I can totally absorb that.

I twisted my fingers in front of the amulet, performing the spell to spin the familiar enchanted case’s seal, as I’d done probably at least a thousand times earlier.

Nothing.

Like last time. It had been getting slightly stuck lately. I needed to get some kind of enchanted oil for it, or something, probably. I tried again, twisting the mechanism more violently, even touching the case directly so as to add more torque to my efforts. My adversary laughed down at me, telling me this was further proof that he was right about me. I swore to myself that I’d kill him. By any means necessary.

In frustration, I pressed my right palm into the seal. It just needed a bit of work. My hellmark briefly flared against the Supremus’ seal before I felt the snap of the clasp. The case was unlocked, but it didn’t spiral open like usual. I had to force the camera shutter-like plates apart.

“Ha!” I yelled at my foe, who was now floating in a veritable galaxy of crystals, each of them shining black, “I told you!”

He looked down dismissively at me, “then where’s the ‘light that burns with the truth of all knowledge?’ I only see a dim reflection,” he clapped his hands together. The dark energy began leaking off his crystals, flowing slowly toward me. I aimed the amulet at the darkness. Its light, that usually either showed me whatever I sought or could be used to repel most aggressive spells, was gone. I reached for my blade, but I’d forgotten it. The wave rushed faster, a torrent. It slammed into me.

I blacked out.

When I came to, the amulet was gone. The Master Mundane and I were back in my office. He stood, pondering one of the bookshelves, while I was slumped in one of the cozy chairs. The house spirits were quiet. I tried to move, to speak. Finding I couldn’t do either, I waited, defeated.

“Have you read this one?” he asked, pointing at the original copy of Herdo’oed’s White Dawn, “oh, wait. Silly me,” my victorious opponent basically bounced over to me, seeming to be almost thirty years younger, “you can’t talk with those on.” I looked down to where he pointed. There was a pair of modern Anglo-Turkish sealing cuffs around my wrists.

“Aww, don’t worry. I’ve called a Master’s council at the Celestial Chamber shortly. You won’t have to worry about anything for long.”

I tried to communicate my utter loathing for him, but I got the sense my eyes failed to get that across. He patted me on the head like I was a small child and went back to my bookshelf, humming some jaunty tune as he skimmed the titles. I prayed that Rel was ok.

Time passed, though while trapped in my own body it could’ve been anywhere from seconds to days before I was unceremoniously picked up and brought down to the master bathroom, whose large tub has been one of the permanent connections to the Celestial Chamber since the early days of the Temple—going back even before the Instinct sect broke away from the Resolute. My arrestor added the usual mix of floral salts and essential oils to the water before dumping me in, letting my soul bubble out and into the room at the realm’s center to face my fate.

---

I regained my focus when the scryer from the Linkage sect fizzled away, causing a minor hubbub among the masters. We all sat there for a moment before hearing the splash from the Linkage pool, from which Old Istanbul’s Realus, Georgia, emerged. No time was spared bringing this senior mystic up to speed, so that she might finally break the stalemate.

“I vote Dorje,” came the majority at the next vote. And so the old monk was forced, after much refusal on his part, to at last accept the title of Supremus. Just as well. Master always spoke highly of him whenever we went to Tibet.

“That just leaves one order of business,” Khan spoke so matter-of-factly that the fate of my living soul might as well have been deciding what lunch to order at the next board meeting. The assembled masters made a show of collectively turning to stare at me, as though their eyes hadn’t been glued to my burning half since they emerged from their respective pools.

“While, technically, it is not considered infidelity to bargain one’s soul away for…” the new Supremus began rambling off the law as it pertained to my position, giving frequent nods to Linkage and Shining’s representatives (as their orders were generally accepted to commune with other beings for power).

“Why can’t we just kill him?” Alastair growled in frustration after keeping silent for a whole two minutes (a new record).

“It would serve no purpose, he has not violated any tenet or led to any dishonorable wrongdoing,” Kazuko said, clearly a little exasperated by his hot-headedness.

“I agree. If I wanted him dead, I would’ve just killed him,” the Master Mundane chimed in. This just made the London representative madder, however.

“You should have! He’s already damned himself, there’s no point keeping him away from his ‘master’ any more!” The conversation devolved into a tense argument over my contribution to the defense of the realm, with my defense primarily coming from the older representatives, and the prosecution mainly just a very ticked off Brit.

“Can I vote as master of Instinct?” I asked, which seemed like a fair question to me. This set Alastair off on a new tangent about how “even that was beyond my proper station, blah blah blah,” but the new Supremus seemed to give it some real consideration.

“He raises a valid argument,” the old monk muttered to the Arcanus, who stroked his chin pensively. Resolute’s representative was just launching into a new tirade about how much I’ve let my sect slide when Khan flicked his wrist at him, sending a ribbon from my bonds to wrap around his mouth.

“As you point out yourself, Alastair, there are no other suitable members of the Instinct sect to represent its interest over its master, who, as you may recall from the Supremus’ reminder, is still considered a full master in the eyes of our law,” the Celestial Chamber’s steward chastised, “now,” he turned to the other representatives at the table, “does anyone else have any objections to our former Supremus serving his due role as the sole representative of his sect on this council?”

The Moon twin looked as though he might object, though his sister, probably sensing it, beat him in saying “no.” Everyone else mostly just muttered that they were fine with it. The bindings around my legs dissolved, and I was mercifully allowed to sit in one of the chairs at the table. That took care of one of the sources of absolute agony I was suffering, at least. I was finally allowed to defend myself.

“The Realm Keeper…” I glanced at the newly rehomed Amulet pinned to the Monk’s robe, a scorchmark in the shape of a five-pointed star still visible, “took away my title as Supremus,” I tried not to glare at him, “which cannot be undone,” I sighed.

“It cannot,” he confirmed.

“I kept the Earth safe from even the Devil himself, purging at least 40% of all the hellspawn from its borders personally,” I held up my right hand, showing my mark to the council, “and so long as I live with… this, they cannot come back. It’s in everyone’s best interest of our realm that I stay alive and free—only the seal performed with this mark can banish demons indefinitely,” the representatives from Steadfast, Linkage, and Sage, along with the Arcanus and Sun twin, were nodding. The new head of Shining, the Master Mundane, and the Moon twin were less convinced, but they, at least, weren’t trying as hard as possible to bite my head off through a gag.

“Where are you going with this?” the Speaker from Peru asked, “any one of my temple’s masters can banish a demon. It isn’t hard.”

“But can you keep them banished?”

“Depends on the strength of the banisher.”

“This can banish them until I die. It forms a perfect seal around our realm, powered by the Devil himself,” I explained, “how long can you personally keep them away?”

Illari shrank a little at this question, saying, much less confidently, “seven years…”

“Well,” the Linkage representative said, “I’m convinced. I say we let him live.” The motion was seconded by almost everyone (with one person shaking violently while grunting behind his gag).

“Then what should we do? Now that that’s decided?” Kazuko asked.

“Let me go? As master of the Instinct sect?” I hoped I wasn’t being too ambitious with my ask. I was, after all, allowed at the table.

Alastair managed to somehow rip the gag off, yelling, “Then what? Leave the entire world to you, oh glorious king of mystics?”

“Resolute’s representative makes a good point,” Khan mused, slapping the magic duct tape back on his face,“what can you offer as a condition for your ‘parole’, as it were?”

“Aside from keeping the hordes of hell away?” I considered, “maybe I can… purge the rest of the demons? Keep the Instinct sect’s jurisdiction safe, as usual?”

“Are you confident you might truly ‘purge’ the demons?” Dorje spoke up finally after sitting quietly for most of the discussion. He’d mainly been studying the laws of the Celestial Chamber, which he’d borrowed from the Arcanus.

“I can at least get more than I’ve done so far. Especially if the different sects let me know when they find a demon.”

“I see…” the old monk went back to The Words of Ancients.

“If he can do that, I support him,” Georgia said, a genuine smile on her face at the idea of having someone able to fully banish otherbeings come to the reprieve of her overworked sect.

“I suppose I do as well,” Kazuko seconded. Having the High Priestess of the sect that focuses especially heavily on sealing away dangerous magic endorse me helped convince Illari and the Twin Chiefs to vote my way.

“I cannot vote for this plan,” the Realm Keeper said, rising, “in all likelihood it would lead to more lenses being damaged as he further pulls the Devil’s power into the realm whose integrity we are meant to defend.” He opened a portal that showed the lens room where I’d been arrested, leaving us with a parting “though I suppose I must abide by the council, so long as the lenses are not broken quite so recklessly.”

“It appears we have reached a decision, then,” the Arcanus clapped, “Nathaniel Faust will be returned to his position as Highest Master of the Order of Instinctual Adaptation, currently centered at the New York Grand Temple. He will be tasked with, in addition to his regular duties, personally banishing any and all otherbeings originating from the lone eternal realm of Hell,” instead of stopping there, like would normally happen at a Council decision, he added one more condition that had not been discussed, “in addition, he will have his hellmark sealed by use of the Rosary of the Blind Sages.”

The relic emerged from its case along the Celestial Chamber’s wall, snaking over to climb up and wrap around my Anima form’s fizzling hand. Instant relief swept over the right side of my body as I contemplated the sealing beads—half made from the bones of great western sages, half from eastern ones. It had been made by the Linkage sect’s precursor in the time of the third crusade, with a Byzantine cross serving as a clasp.

“This Celestial Council is now adjourned,” Khan stood, walking over to his little corner of the Chamber and ringing the Arcane bell. The bindings around my hands and, unfortunately, over Alastair’s mouth dissolved back into the ceiling. I tensed against whatever onslaught of verbal rage he was about to release in my direction, but he sullenly pushed past, muttering about “injustice” as he returned to the pools.

Before returning to his body, he turned and yelled, “expect a formal writ of challenge in the morning, mister Faust.” His Anima dissolved into the pool with a violent splash.

One by one, the other representatives returned to their sects’ pools until only the Arcanus, Supremus, and I remained. I thanked them for their calm in dealing with my trial before walking back to the waters that would return my spirit to my body. Dorje didn’t acknowledge the comment, being too absorbed with the duties of his new station, but Khan nodded. There was nothing more to say. Business was concluded.

I gasped as I broke the surface of the bath, my hands still bound in the physical world by the cuffs the Master Mundane had slapped on me. I still couldn’t move my body, but my mouth was now free to shout for Rel. She shushed me immediately.

“I’ve been here quite some time, Nathaniel,” she pulled the cuffs off me, “I know better than to interrupt a Council meeting, ye know.”

“Right,” I coughed, “thanks.” She pulled the drain, letting me settle back into having a physical body again slowly. I tried to describe my ordeal since I’d last seen her for dinner, but my lungs were still partly full of water, so I ended up spluttering for a while.

“Right,” I coughed, “thanks.” She pulled the drain, letting me settle back into having a physical body again slowly. I tried to describe my ordeal since I’d last seen her for dinner, but my lungs were still partly full of water, so I ended up spluttering for a while.

“That would be cough preferable,” I wobbled to my feet, “I’m still gonna—”

“Need some time, yea? I’ll help you to your room first, unless you’d rather penguin-walk the whole way.”

“I regret taking you to the aquarium.”

“So ye say, Mr Penguin,” she let me lean against her as we walked out to my bedroom, aided by the completely normal house spirits.

I’m writing this while she makes dinner—it smells like her famous “stew”—just in case I don’t have the energy after eating. With how drained I am, I feel like I’ll probably end up actually sleeping in my bed tonight. I can start on my new assignment tomorrow.

---

Oh, Nathaniel.

We will have so much more fun together yet, don’t you worry. I have some friends to introduce you to—I’m sure the experience will prove rather… beneficial to us both.

—Helel

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