Thud!
Zorak fell on the ground and cut every connection with The Deep and the entity after Bol and Cheryl left.
He was ready to risk attracting attention. But was glad they didn't.
If Cheryl and Bol forced the matter, then the situation would have been worse. Worse than any of them could handle.
As soon as Zorak fell on the ground, Zuri deactivated the Phase Veil charm.
She stopped feeding energy into it. The shimmer around her body flickered. Once. Twice.
Then it collapsed.
The particles in the air stabilized. Color returned. The muted, blurred edges of the room sharpened.
Her resonant frequency shifted back. Matched the normal layer of reality.
She was solid again. Visible. Touchable.
The charm crumbled in her hand. Dust and ash drifted to the floor.
Zuri rushed to Zorak's side.
She knelt beside him. Her hands hovered over his body. She didn't know where to start.
Blood pooled around him. His face was swollen. His jaw dislocated. His nose broken. Deep gashes across his scalp where Cheryl had ripped his hair.
From first glance, she knew he needed immediate care.
She started to get up. Rush to grab a first aid kit.
Zorak's hand caught her wrist. Weak. Trembling.
"Not here," he said.
His voice was rough. Barely a whisper.
It was a miracle they still didn't attract attention on a Sunday afternoon. He had no idea whether the building was empty or not. But they couldn't stay here any longer after the damage they caused.
Zuri looked around at the state of her destroyed apartment 3B.
Her teeth gritted.
Unlucky bastard! Just die.
She cursed Makun in her heart. And cursed herself for being too nice.
She grabbed Zorak. Looped his arm over her shoulder. Pulled him to his feet.
Then moved out of the apartment, following his directions.
.....
Makun sat cross-legged in meditation outside the diner.
He had spent $7 on a plate of french fries and beef. $6.50 remaining.
The food gave him energy. But not the type he needed.
Therefore, he decided to meditate. Something similar to what was mentioned in the book. Hoping to gain something from it.
With his eyes closed, Makun tried feeling the particles.
He had always seen them after extending his frontal lobe. Back on Friday night, when he first tested his Sight in the alley near his apartment, he'd watched the particles drift through the air like dust in sunlight. Faint. Translucent. Everywhere.
He had tried touching them then. Reaching out with his hand. But they slipped through his fingers. Intangible. Like trying to grab smoke.
Now, sitting still, Makun wondered what happened when the particles were near him.
He activated his Sight after straining his frontal lobe. The world shifted.
The particles appeared. Drifting. Flickering. Moving in slow currents around him.
He focused. Watched them closely.
They floated toward him. Passed through his body. Then continued on the other side.
No resistance. No interaction. Just... nothing.
He tried again. Concentrated harder. Willed them to stop. To stay. To enter him.
The particles drifted through him. Unchanged.
Makun frowned.
There should be mechanisms for this, he thought.
If spiritual energy existed. If mystics could gather and refine it. If advancement was possible.
Then there had to be a way to absorb the particles. To pull them in. To make them stay.
But he didn't know how.
That brought him back to the book.
After reading the book, Makun had gained some very important information.
He knew the goal of a mystic. It made sense, even though he wasn't sure about it being a universal goal.
He knew of eras where powerful beings walked the earth. And was curious if it was related.
The book had mentioned ancient times. Before the Suppression. Before The Veil descended.
Eras when beings of immense power shaped reality itself.
Are the mythologies we learned at school true?
The Titan Era. Gods and titans clashing. Zeus overthrowing Kronos. Mountains shattered by their battles.
The Age of Aesir. Odin hanging from Yggdrasil. Seeking knowledge. Trading an eye for wisdom. Norse gods walking among men.
Ancient Egypt. Pharaohs performing rituals. Communicating with entities. Temples built on spiritual ley lines. Gods descending into mortal forms.
Are those beings mystics who reached the Source? Are they practitioners who ascended the ladder?
Or Are they something else entirely?
Makun didn't know. But the correlation seemed too strong to ignore.
He knew of the Suppression. The system that kept mystics hidden. The organizations that enforced secrecy with brutal efficiency.
He knew of The Veil. The barrier separating the physical world from The Deep. The mechanism that dulled humanity's spiritual awareness.
And today, he had even learned of the Four Paths of Comprehension. Ways of going up that ladder to reach the famous goal of the mystic.
Meditation. Ritual. Lived Experience. External Resources.
But what is the ladder?
Where is the ladder?
What type of ladder led you to the Source?
These were questions he still had no knowledge of.
He was quite sure they were in the book. Maybe even the next pages.
However, he had a feeling that with his meager amount of energy, at some point he wouldn't be able to turn the pages of that damn book.
Maybe two to three pages more. And if he did not learn how to start practicing, then it was useless.
He needed different sources of information.
But how could he pay?
Not everyone was going to be interested the way the veiled lady was. And what did he have to purchase that information?
Nothing.
Where could he gain information without exchanging stuff?
The Night Market?
No. They are literally meant for exchanges.
Then Zuri, he thought.
She is a good option.
Zuri was a good option. But before going there, he had to read the book to the point where he could not turn the pages anymore.
He also had to prepare questions for the veiled lady he was going to meet tomorrow.
Makun got the book out of the sports bag. Nothing changed. Good old sight of his energy being absorbed slowly.
He turned the pages of the book.
THE TIERS OF ASCENSION