THE BOOK OF XYL


As I worked on the crystal plinth that was erected on the peak of Mount
Dynara, I paused to listen to the lone yelps and distant whines that
came up from the basin below. The sound had been building for some time,
but now it erupted into the full-throated howling of wolves.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, listening to the howling but a soft
hand gently touched my shoulder. Turning, it was my mate, Trillillial,
who had come up behind me unaware, her brown wings flecked with gold.
Her palm felt warm against my crystalline skin.

Standing next to her was Mugowumpois, who moved up to study the crystal
plinth I was working on. It was meant to erect a shield over Mount
Dynara. The soft green fingers of Mugowumpois drifted over the crystal
components, panels, lights, but she touched nothing. She glanced up at
me and smiled, politely not voicing the obvious futility of such a
device, a weak response to the Soulless.

"Loboshi splintered?" I asked, perhaps superfluously.

"Yes," Trillillial said softly.

"Her shards took a lupine form," said Mugowumpois brusquely. "I assumed
she might, given her relationship with the wolves since Volkh died."

"It is a testament of her love of Volkh," said Trillillial.

"You are always the romantic," I said and reached up to squeeze her
hand.

"There are now only five of us left," said Trillillial. "When will we
splinter, Xyl? When will we join the rest?"

"I need to finish my work," I said, pulling away from her and avoiding
her mournful blue eyes. Mugowumpois arched an eyebrow.

I knew Trillillial wanted to splinter. She had for the past two thousand
years, to join the rest of the Elders who were now spread across the
world as the mortal races.

"Did you want more recording crystals?" I asked Mugowumpois.

"Yes," she said. "I need to interview the first generation of Loboshi's
splinters. You know they completely forget who they were by the third
iteration."

I didn't answer, but just handed her the crystals and turned back to my
work, adjusting some dials. I felt Mugowumpois shrug and leave.

I paused again when Trillillial sighed deeply. She laid her hand again
on my shoulder. She knew my emotions, which ran deeply below the
surface, and how I hated it when one of us splintered.

Bollikin was the first, of course, and the memory of that event still
sent quakes through my crystalline structure. When Bollikin splintered,
the scream of Tae shook the entire First World, even driving the
Soulless away as they thought we had unleashed some new weapon.

We all came running to Tae and found him surrounded by thousands of tiny
beings, each one responding to the name of Bollikin. Tae was trying to
gather them all to himself.

"What have you done, little friend?" Tae kept crying.

"I'm sorry, dear Tae," they kept answering in chorus.

It took some time before we worked out what happened. Bollikin had
apparently splintered his own essence, creating a race of small mortals,
each taking on a characteristic of one of his creations, such as fox or
squirrel or rabbit or other small creature of Bollikin's. The race was
star-shaped, i.e., a head, two arm and legs, bipedal and split into two
sexes, which were able to procreate. We had called them the furrikin.

Tae kept guard over this new, weak race of furrikin. But they aged and
died, which we could do nothing to stop. On the other hand, they also
procreated, and grew in greater and greater numbers. With each
generation, they forgot more and more who they were, and Tae's despair
grew proportionally.

Elfenehoala was the second to splinter, having the studied the shards of
Bollikin. She worked out how he fragmented his own spirit, dividing one
into many. But while Bollikin's splintering took on a myriad different
forms and shapes, the shards of Elfenhoala looked much more homogenous,
graceful green skinned beings who were drawn to the forests.

Since then, others followed, mostly out of despair. Tae was the third,
his race taking the form of his beloved bears, which were known as the
tae'dae. Even after several generations and the tae'dae and furrikin had
forgotten who they once were, the races remained close, the tae'dae
forever being the protectors of the small furrikin.

The irony wasn't lost on us. For aeons we had searched for the secret of
our own procreation and, once found, learned that the cost was our own
dissimilation. As more Elders splintered, the dozens and dozens of races
began to spread throughout the First World. As expected, they were
hunted by the Soulless Ones, and so the races were scattered even more.

And, thus, now there was only five of us left: Meridian, Dracnoris,
Trillillial, Mugowumpois and myself. Meridian remained, taking
responsibility for overseeing the new races, though as they were spread
more and more, it became clear it was an impossible task. Dracnoris
remained, though I am not sure why. He made flights over the First
World, battling the Soulless, then retreating, often brooding.

The desire to splinter becomes stronger, the smaller our numbers become.
Trillillial speaks of it often, but I resist and she will not splinter
without me. It was tempting, allowing oneself to disperse into a new
race, with new experiences, unaware of the knowledge of impending doom,
for though the races stubbornly survived, it was only a matter of time
before the Soulless Ones would overwhelm them. And so I continue my
projects, hoping I could do enough to protect the new races.

Of all of us, Mugowumpois was most intrigued by the splintered races. As
her focus of study in the Fifth Circle was organic, she has become
obsessed with the mortal races. She tracked them, analyzed their
customs, interviewed them and often came to the conclusion that each
individual shard had the potential to evolve back into an Elder. While
it was nice to imagine several hundred million Elders rising up to
challenge the Soulless Gods, the reality was much harsher. The mortal
races were hunted and consumed relentlessly by the Soulless.

Not long after Loboshi splintered, Mugowumpois called Trillillial,
Meridian and myself to join her. I am not sure whether or not she asked
Dracnoris, but he was more and more isolating himself from the rest of
us. We gathered within the swamps of Balacharia. Mugowumpois greeted us,
holding the hand of a small female furrikin. The furrikin had probably
just entered adulthood. She had ginger fur and long ears like a rabbit.
Her dark eyes looked trustingly up at us through thick lashes. Such was
how the mortal races looked upon us.

"You aren't afraid, are you, dear?" Mugowumpois asked her in the
furrikin's own language. It was odd that the mortal races could never
master our tongue, each developing their own language.

"No, Great Mugowumpois," she answered, though she clearly was terrified.

"This is Ayalala of the Sweetberry tribe," said Mugowumpois, stroking
the furrikin's arm. Then she switched to the Elder tongue. "I know I've
showed you this before, the soul that inhabits each shard, but indulge
me a moment."

Mugowumpois smiled gently at Ayalala and turned her around. Placing a
hand over the furrikin's head, Mugowumpois increased the vibration
around her aura until the shard of the soul became visible.

"This is a technique you shall appreciate, Xyl," Mugowumpois said. "I'm
going to use a small amount of immanidivinus energy to mark the
substance of the soul."

As the aura of the furrikin stabilized, Mugowumpois inserted a finger
gently into the shimmering aura and trickled a very tiny stream of
immanidivinus into the aura, slowly tracing an intricate spiderlike
glyph which quickly bonded to the furrikin's soul.
"There. Her soul is now marked forever more. We can find her anywhere in
the known world."

"Yes," I said "If we wanted to track individual mortals, that is quite
useful."

"Wait, that's not what I meant to demonstrate. Watch."

With a sudden jerk, Mugowumpois snapped Ayalala's neck. It was done so
swiftly that Ayalala never even had a chance to cry out or express
surprise. Trillillial gasped in shock and stood up.

"Why did you do that!" Trillillial exclaimed. Her lips thinned and she
looked at me. I motioned her to sit down.

"Really, was that necessary?" asked Meridian.

"Yes, it is part of the demonstration," Mugowumpois said, though she
looked slightly abashed. "Now look. There! The soul is separating from
the corpse!"

And so it was, taking on the shadowy form of Ayalala, even while it was
slowly losing shape. Ayalala seemed to try to speak to Mugowumpois,
looking reproachful and utterly sad. Mugowumpois was quick to point to
the glyph that stilled shimmered on the soul's substance.

"There," Mugowumpois said excitedly. "See? Track it!"

We each tried to track the soul as it slowly faded away. Mugowumpois
brightly asked if we could find it but none of us could.

"This is only the first part of the experiment," she told us. "I'll call
us back together for the next stage."

It was several months before Mugowumpois once again gathered us
together. This time she brought us to the outskirts of the Gaaglinaaro
Forest, where a small furrikin had just given birth in a crudely
thatched hut. The furrikin mother held the infant to her breast. The
offspring looked like the mother, brown furred, with the vague
characteristics of a squirrel. The baby's eyes weren't open but it began
to cry when Mugowumpois came near, though she was oblivious to the
child's distress.

"This is Pollipolli of the Green Mud tribe," Mugowumpois introduced the
mother to us. "She has just given birth to her young son, Rolloriki. May
I hold your child, Polli?"

"Of course, Great Mugowumpois," said Pollipolli, though she hesitated
slightly before handing over the babe.

"I hope you have no plans to kill that child," said Trillillial icily in
the Elder tongue.

"No, no," said Mugowumpois. "But watch."

Mugowumpois held a hand over the crying child. The aura glowed and
expanding, revealing the soul. Within the soul was a glyph like that in
Ayalala.

"You've marked another?" asked Meridian.

"No," said Mugowumpois triumphantly, "Look closely. It is the same
soul!"

We looked and it was true. It was exactly the same glyph as had marked
poor Ayalala. Even Trillillial was astonished.

"Fascinating," I said in admiration.

"How is this possible?" asked Meridian.

"I do not know how but it is," Mugowumpois said, handing the child back
to the relieved mother. "When a new baby is formed -- in utero as it
were -- a soul shard slowly forms and incarnates within the physical
body. Body and soul finally merge when the child is born and takes its
first breath. I wondered where these new shards come from. At first, I
thought the parents' souls somehow propagated more shards. Or perhaps
that the bodies themselves spontaneously generated a new soul. But no.
When a mortal dies, the soul does not dissipate, even though that's what
appeared to happen with Ayalala. Rather, the soul re-incarnates! The
souls are never lost!"

"Reincarnation," whispered Meridian.

"That isn't all," continued Mugowumpois. "I've run hundreds of these
experiments. Sometimes the soul will split in two and be reborn in two
places. Thus, there will never be a limit to a race's population as the
shards continue to splinter."

We silently wondered what that would mean. Trillillial hummed a lullaby
to Pollipolli's child. I sensed she did not want to known how
Mugowumpois continued these experiments.

"Of course," I said, "with a limitless population and the rate at which
the mortals breed, the Soulless Ones will become greater than ever
before as they consume the races."

"But that's the most fantastic discovery of all, " Mugowumpois said.
"I've marked some of the souls consumed by the Soulless Ones. And they
are still reborn! Do you see what that means? The Soulless cannot absorb
the souls of shards!"

"Remarkable," I said, "that follows the patterns we've seen, as well.
The Soulless gorge on mortal flesh, then become lethargic before
returning active with an even greater hunger."

"But they are never stronger than they were before," said Meridian, his
eyes alight with understanding. "If a Soulless consumes an Elder, the
essence will be absorbed into theirs. When they consume a mortal, the
essence eventually is reincarnated. This is a momentous discovery!"

"What if they consume an entire race," I asked.

"I assume it would then be impossible to reincarnate," said Mugowumpois.
"In that case, the Soulless would probably truly absorb that race as
though consuming an Elder."

"So long as a pocket of the race exists, they will have a chance," said
Meridian. "We just need to each race alive. We should make sure each is
spread out."

"Even so, it is only a matter of time before the Soulless will overcome
them," I said. "Ultimately, these mortals are weak creatures. Every
simulation I have run shows that in time the Soulless Ones will consume
the world. It is inevitable."

"It does buy us time, though," said Meridian. "The longer we keep the
Soulless here, the longer Roark and the others have."

So we had a new purpose, preserving the mortal races. But there were
only five of us left, against the might of the Soulless Ones. We
couldn't do much more than make sure the races were spread throughout
the First World.

Several years passed, when I was again tinkering with the plinth on top
of Mount Dynara., a cold wind rose up around me. Fearing it was Zenos, I
hastily wrapped myself in a shield. But, no, it was the beings known as
the Fates. I was more than a little surprised, being that it was so rare
that these enigmatic beings would appear before us. Indeed, I had
forgotten they even existed. The three beings stood together in the form
of mortals, one young, one mature and one an ancient hag.

"You do not often visit," I said guardedly, but they did not answer.
"Why are you here?"

"We observe and record," said the mature one known as Lachesis. "We
exist in every reality, in some form."

"Indeed," I said noncommittally.

"When these mortal races appeared, that was when our duty truly began,"
explained the young one known as Clotho.

"Recording gods is no challenge," croaked the ancient one known as
Atropos. "Your destinies may as well be straight lines, so predictable.
Mortals, however, they can surprise us, how often do we have to reweave
the tapestry patterns."

"Your job of recording will not last long, I fear," I said. "The rate
the Soulless Ones consume the mortals, they will eventually be
overwhelmed."

"True," said Atropos with a toothless grin. "It is inevitable that the
Soulless will triumph. For mortals, as you call them, are weak, not
strong enough to survive."

"Yes, you are correct about us," said Lachesis. "Our duty in this
reality would then soon end. It is a shame, for the interesting parts
have just begun."

"And we do not interfere," said Clotho, then she hesitated and glanced
at the others. "We do not interfere often."

"Often?" I asked. "So sometimes you do interfere?"

Clotho and Lachesis smiled while Atropos grimaced. Clotho hesitantly
stepped towards me, and then dropped a roll of parchment at me feet,
quickly backing away. The Fates waited expectantly. Curious, I picked up
the parchment and unfurled it. It was a set of blueprints, schematics of
great complexity. I felt my crystalline body pulsate quickly as I
studied the blueprints and enlightenment dawned on me.

"This is a portal!" I said. "A gateway that pierces reality. Will this
take us to Dynara and Magnora?"

"No, you Elders could not step through," said Lachesis.

"Only the mortals could enter this portal," said Clotho.

"Why is that?" I asked. "If you have this knowledge, then do you not
have the knowledge to pierce other realities? Roark needn't have gone
looking in the Void! You could help us."

"No, it is not possible to follow your progenitors," said Lachesis. "At
least not for several aeons. Your Roark's device is useless now, but in
time perhaps it would work."

"Why several aeons?" I asked. They remained silent, so I said again,
"What happens in several aeons that cannot happen now?"

"You suspect already!" cackled Atropos.

"You mean," my mind was whirling. "Of course, the laws of physics
evolve, along with everything else. If realities are forever in flux,
then Roark would have to wait until evolution takes its course and the
quantum states are in alignment. I wish there was a way we could to tell
him."

"It would hardly matter," said Lachesis. "Once the Soulless finish with
the First World, they will move out and consume this entire multiverse,
even the other planes would not be safe."

"Including you," I pointed out.

"We will be the last to go," shrugged Atropos "We always are."

"So why give me this?" I said, waving the parchment. "What is its
purpose? If Elders cannot enter, you say that mortals can. Will they go
someplace safe."

"They will go through," said Lachesis, "be transformed and then return.
It will give mortals a chance, no more, a small testing and
strengthening of their character, some may not survive portal, but those
that do will shape the destiny of the world."

"It is only a small chance," said Clotho.

I went back to studying the blueprints laid out before me. The Portal
would need to tap into the very heart of the First World just to power
it. It would take all my skill and all my knowledge to construct it. I'm
not sure how long I studied it, but when I looked up, the Fates were
gone.

Over the next year, I labored on what would be called the Portal of
Fate. I constructed it within Mount Dynara, for this mountain was the
fulcrux of all of the essence of the First World itself. I took down the
plinths and protections around the top of Mount Dynara, for this great
peak must become unobtrusive and hidden from the Soulless. I would
create a resonating vibration within the mountain to repel the Soulless.

Meridian was greatly intrigued by the Portal of Fate. He had gathered a
group of mortal heroes who would be the first step through. Dracnoris
showed interest, often visiting me to watch its construction.

When finally it was complete, the Portal of Fate stood within a cave
about midway up the mountain peak. All the Elders had gathered, plus the
heroes selected by Meridian. I triggered the final glyph and crackling
arcane energies erupted within the portal. We could not see into through
the coruscating field, yet the air warped around us, and we could see
reality shifting within the very cave itself. I tried to place a hand
through the Portal but was repelled. So it was true that Elders could
not enter.

Meridian urged the first of the heroes through. She was an orclach
warrior, who strode through without hesitation. Next was a furrikin
mystic with a tae'dae protector. Three elfen went through, as well as a
taurian, loboshigaru, krokani and aslaran. Ten entered the Portal of
Fate, and only eight returned. We had lost an elfen and the taurian.

The rest of the heroes returned but with little memory of their past.
Mugowumpois gave a thorough examination of each but could not tell how
they were changed. They seemed unremarkable except for the loss of
memory.

But we saw in time that everything the Fates said was true. The mortals
who survived the Portal of Fate were somehow transformed. Almost without
exception, they ended up doing great deeds, becoming the leaders and
champions and heroes of Lusternia, sometimes even the villains.

Mortals would make pilgrimages from all over to enter the Portal of
Fate. To help, Trillillial wrote songs and stories, encouraging mortals
to do the same, to spread word of the Portal of Fate, so that all who
had heart enough would come and strive to make their mark.

Gradually, mortals began to withstand the Soulless, though their
resistance was subtle and painfully incremental. Would it be enough? We
could only hope and believe.

Discovering the secret of how the Portal of Fate changed mortals became
the great obsession of Mugowumpois. She studied each mortal who passed
through, marking their souls, following them through their incarnations.
But the answer always eluded her.

"I will crack this code if it is the last thing I do," she would often
say to me.

Trillillial wanted to splinter more than ever now. She wanted to join
the others, to be part of this mortal endeavor. Of course, she still
waited for me. I kept putting off the inevitable.

When Trillillial came to me one day while I was working on tuning some
crystalline vortexes that would hopefully help repel the Soulless from
Mount Dynara, she had a hesitant look in her eyes. I thought she was
again going to ask me to splinter with her. But instead she took my hand
and pulled me away from my work. I did not protest for something in her
eyes told me to keep silent and follow.

Spreading her wings, Trillillial flew off the side of the mountain. I
floated up after her, and she led me to the Balacharia Swamp. There in
the swamps, I noticed a group of mortals had settled there. They were
building structures of surprising complexity. The race had dark green
mottled skin but I couldn't quite place who they were.

It took me some time to figure it out, but when I did, I stared at
Trillillial. She nodded. Mugowumpois had splintered.

As this was the first generation, they retained some memory of
Mugowumpois. One tall member of this new race walked towards me,
hesitant and unsure.

"I have a message from her," the newly formed shard said softly. "From
me. Who I was."

The shard of Mugowumpois whispered the message in my ear. Then, she
stepped back and nodded. I took her to the Portal of Fate, wherein she
stepped through. Sometime later, she emerged from the portal, looking
serene though confused as mortals often did when first returning.

"Do as she asked," said Trillillial softly to me.

                      # # #

Afterwards, we travelled to a range of high mountain peaks to the south.
The sky was blue, streaked with wisps of white cloud. The Soulless Ones
were on the other side of the world and for this moment at least, it was
serene.

"Are you ready, beloved?" Trillillial asked, holding my hand.

She kissed me, pressing her warm lips against my cool lips, her wings
wrapped around us, her feathers brushing against me. My body pulsated,
suffusing us with a scintillating light.

It was time.