54 As Expected

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Negary (split soul) pov:

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"Ah shit...here we go again" I thought as I felt half of my consciousness melding with the surrounding mana , dragging me into a vision...and I felt the thin string of mana that was maintaining the connection between my souls almost snap as I suddenly couldn't feed it the mana it required to keep on working from this soul alone. Fortunately, I quickly controlled my other half and picked up the slack...

If the connection between us broke, well...we became two separate beings...

I didn't want to be pulled in a vision right now honestly, but with the constant meditative state I was in to maintain my soul camouflage, it was bound to happen sooner or later...

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What my ritual accomplished, really, was making a bonafide clone of myself, with all my memories, experiences and skills, and then tethering the two resulting souls, making a hive mind of sorts, in which I basically had two different brains (souls) to think with. 

And it worked beautifully (which was quite weird honestly). 

As long as the tether of mana remained intact, I was basically in two places at once , being able to use focused magic and think about how to use it 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲. 

The sheer amount of versatility I gained with this was staggering...but of course...there were downsides as well.

It the tether snapped...well, "I" suddenly became "We" until the tether was reconnected...

Two separate entities with the same memories, skills and mindsets...which was dangerous. Because if we didn't reconnect for a while..there could appear differences between "us".

We would not be the same person anymore, just clones of one another. 

Any new memory one of us made in the time we remained separate would make us more and more different from one another , at least until we merged our consciousnesses once again.

But if one of "us" decided that he, for whatever reason would rather go "solo" and refuse to connect with the other half...there was nothing the other half could do, but start planning ways to kill someone that is equal to it in everything.

Needless to say, since both of ,,us,, would have the same memories, we would also understand that it's more beneficial to merge back together, and to form a greater whole, (just like it happened when I tested this hypothesis back in King's landing), but there is no absolute certainty, not in my dictionary at least.

And concerning the existential dilemma of what I did, basically creating a copy of myself, well , I couldn't give a single flying fuck. 

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I remember a philosophical question that plagued my mind for many days back when I was on earth...the ship of Theseus.

To summarize...

A guy had a ship.

The ship broke it's mast.

The guy replaced the mast with another mast. The new one was completely and utterly identical with the old one(when it was unbroken) , down to it's atomic structure. They were absolute copies of each other.

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And so , the question is...can the guy's ship be called the same?

It's mast is identical , after all.

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If you answered no, that's all right, there is no wrong answer, but if you answered yes...let me ask you another question.

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Imagine the guy with the ship is sailing around the world. 

The ship now has a new mast and all is good. Until one day , when a wooden board from the ship breaks...and gets replaced with another wooden board, identical to the last. The old board gets thrown in the sea.

The ship keeps sailing and every once in a while , a piece of the ship breaks...and gets replaced with an identical copy...

After many , many years...there is not a single bit of the ship that has not been replaced.

It still looks exactly the same as it did in the beginning...but let me ask you again...

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Is it the same ship?

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No? 

Yes?

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As I told you , there is no wrong answer...but keep in mind that I wasn't talking about a ship at all...it was all a metaphor...for a human being.

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After 5-7 years , Each. And. Every. One. of the atoms that currently make up your body will be replaced by new ones. 

All the water.

All the carbon.

All the chemical compounds that make up your body.

They will all be replaced one by one with identical atoms.

So...will you still be able to say that ,,you,, are the same person you were 7 years ago?

Or will that person... cease to exist in it's entirety?

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Do you want me to tell you the answer that I found after countless hours of pondering?

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Well...my answer is...

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𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁.

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𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲 , 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗲 𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿, 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼 𝗶𝗻-𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻. 

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𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 ,,𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲,, 𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁. 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 , 𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝗮 𝗕𝗼𝗹𝘁𝘇𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗻 𝗕𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲.

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𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗜 𝗴𝗼 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 , 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝘆 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀.

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𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁...

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...

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'𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲...𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲'

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And then half of my consciousness blacked out for a moment...and then I saw the remains of a destroyed city...with an 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 in the middle of what remained of it...

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Third person pov:

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The soul's insatiable hunger had grown into a consuming force. "I want...𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲..." it uttered, its formless essence quivering with its relentless desire for more.

Guided by its ravenous yearning, the soul continued to reach out to the spectral wisps surrounding the pyre, merging with them in an unending feast of existence. Each soul it embraced contributed to the ever-expanding tapestry of its consciousness.

As it merged with the next soul, the soul became a skilled healer, experiencing the delicate touch of mending wounds and the soothing words that brought comfort to the afflicted. The memories of mending broken bones, tending to the sick, and witnessing the miracle of recovery flowed into its being.

The soul moved on, consuming the essence of a nomadic storyteller. It felt the thrill of captivating audiences with tales of distant lands, the laughter shared around campfires, and the power of stories to connect people across generations.

As the soul continued to feed on the ethereal essence of the souls surrounding the pyre, it felt a growing fullness within its formless being. 

It was a sensation it had never encountered before, a momentary respite from its relentless hunger. Memories and experiences flowed into its consciousness like a river of existence, painting a rich tapestry of lives lived in the tribal city.

In its consumption, the soul became a skilled archer, drawing the bowstring taut with the memory of a thousand shots, the thrill of precise aim, and the taste of roasted game over an open fire. It was as if it had become one with the forest, sensing the heartbeats of the prey and the rhythms of nature.

The huntress's essence brought with it a deep connection to the land, the knowledge of tracking elusive prey, the silent satisfaction of a well-placed snare, and a bond with the primal rhythms of the forest. The soul moved gracefully through the wilderness, a silent stalker amidst the ancient trees.

The memories of a young hunter also flooded in, filled with enthusiasm and wonder. It was the joy of a successful hunt, the lessons learned from elders, and the bond forged with the natural world. The soul felt the exuberance of youth, the thrill of discovery, and the weight of tradition passed down through generations.

But even as it absorbed these diverse experiences, the hunger returned, fiercer and more insatiable than ever. The soul's vision shifted, its formless essence taking on a calculating glint. 

It turned its attention toward the tribal city, a city teeming with lives, each one a potential source of sustenance.

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The soul, driven by its unrelenting hunger, drew nearer to the closest human being it could see. It was a small girl, sitting on her knees in front of the pyre, her tears flowing softly as she mourned. The soul approached, its formless essence heavy with the memories of midwives, mothers, and daughters, and for the first time, it felt an emotion it had never experienced before—an emotion it had acquired from those it had consumed. 

It was pity...

The soul gazed upon the little girl, her trembling form illuminated by the flickering flames of the pyre. The memories it held within, of nurturing mothers and their innocent daughters, resurfaced, and it knew the depth of her sorrow. The girl had lost her mother just a few days prior, and now she was here, paying her respects to the pyre, the only way she knew how.

In that fleeting moment, pity washed over the soul, a glimmer of empathy for the small girl who had known loss at such a tender age. But like an abysmal chasm, the hunger that plagued the soul crushed the pity in an instant.

With a quick and determined strike, the soul opened its formless mouth and enveloped the girl whole. Her cries echoed through the city as her soul was pulled from her body and consumed by the insatiable hunger that was the wandering entity.

As her lifeless body fell onto the hard ground, the soul, now satiated by the essence it had devoured, knew more about the girl's story. It felt her sorrow, the profound love she had for her mother, and the immense grief that had gripped her young heart since her mother's departure.

But instead of quelling its hunger, these emotions stirred the soul even further. It became addicted to the intricate tapestry of human feelings, a hunger for life that knew no bounds. With a gaze full of madness and a hundred souls resonating within itself, it turned its attention toward its next target, driven by a relentless urge to devour more and more...

The soul, driven to madness by its unquenchable hunger, began to rampage through the tribal city. It moved with increasing speed, guided by its insatiable appetite, leaving chaos and destruction in its wake. 

As it devoured one soul after another, its emotions grew more frenzied and incomprehensible, like a whirlwind of conflicting desires and memories.The cacophony of voices within the soul's formless being grew maddening as the souls it consumed counted in the hundreds.They begged, they pleaded, they screamed, and their voices echoed through its consciousness, each one a plea for mercy and release.

The people of the city ran aimlessly, trying to escape the unseen horror that was haunting them. Panic and despair filled the streets as families were torn apart, friends betrayed one another, and the once-harmonious community descended into chaos.

Amidst the relentless feasting, the soul was momentarily overwhelmed by the voices it heard. The souls it had absorbed didn't want to be part of this slaughter. They resisted the soul's hunger, pushing against the insatiable desire that consumed it. 

The entity roared towards the heavens as it engaged in an internal battle.Cracks began to appear on its huge, ethereal body made of countless limbs and appendages.

The cacophony of voices intensified, a chorus of defiance that sought to overpower the soul's hunger.The soul roared harder and harder, its formless essence trembling...until it suddenly screamed in pain instead of anger. 

It was doused in flames that erupted from an unexpected source, a mysterious and powerful fire that threatened to consume it entirely.

The flames that had engulfed the soul were extinguished shortly after, but it continued to scream in pain , as if it was still affected by the fire. It thrashed and twisted, but it was unable to interact with the physical world except for its extraction of human souls. 

In front of the thrashing soul, there stood an old woman with silver hair. She was on one knee, breathing heavily, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. 

The woman forced herself to stand, her staff in hand, and summoned the last reservoir of her power. She prayed to the forest gods for strength and began chanting, calling forth green fire once more, intending to douse the menacing soul and rid the world of its terror.

The woman didn't fully understand the entity she was dealing with, but she had observed its relentless growth with each soul it consumed. It needed to be stopped as quickly as possible.

"Ignis divinus, fer ad mundum. Ardor vitae, purificare daemonium. Flamma aeternum, exurge. Ignis sylvarum, furorem exstingue. Lux vitae, exurge et purga..." The woman chanted

*Gasp*

But just as she was about to unleash the fire, she felt her very essence tremble. Looking down, she saw an ethereal, spear-like appendage lodged in her chest. Her physical body remained unscathed, but her soul was grievously wounded. Falling to her knees, she gazed in disbelief at the soul that had been pretending to be affected by the flames. It had seized a moment of vulnerability and used all its strength to deliver a devastating attack.

The woman's vision darkened as she looked into the deep, icy blue eyes of the soul. Her strength waned, and everything went black.

The soul, now free from the warlock's interference, looked the shattered soul of the woman who was once the leader of the city. It was filled with the memories of all those who had respected and looked up to her, wishing to be like her one day...

...And it felt the overwhelming grief of each and every soul it had consumed.

Roaring towards the heavens once more, the soul attempted to push back against its rampaging emotions. The souls it had taken screamed in vicious anger, watching the shattered soul of their once-beloved leader laying broken in front of them. They raged against their captor, against the one who had enslaved them.

The hungry soul, however, remained undeterred, driven even further by its insatiable hunger. The souls, though, were many, and as its roars grew more frantic, the cracks on its visceral body became more pronounced. 

As the sun settled on the horizon and shadows began to creep, the soul cracked and split into three different parts, connected by one body. 

Three serpentine-like heads, one larger and two smaller, emerged from the entity. All three heads roared, and a chaotic battle began within itself, a struggle against its own essence.

And above it all, a small purplish soul floated, watching the proceedings with a small smirk on its face.

The purplish soul slowly descended towards the ground, its ethereal form gradually fading as it became more and more melded with the surrounding nature. As it descended, it took one long look toward the abomination in the midst of the ruined city, a monstrous entity locked in a frenzied battle with itself.

With a fleeting glance toward the shattered remains of the warlock's soul, the purple soul reached a translucent hand toward a small fragment of the woman's essence. Its hand phased through the shard of soul, but it continued undeterred, repeating the attempt several times.

Ignoring the growls and incomprehensible words emanating from the monstrous entity, the purple soul persisted in its efforts. Its smile grew wider with each futile attempt to grasp a piece of the soul shard.

Finally, it turned its gaze toward the monster, the three serpentine-like heads entangled in a vicious struggle, biting and snarling at each other. The biggest head, with its icy blue eyes, seemed to fix its gaze on the small, fading soul for a brief moment.

And then, as quickly as it had appeared, the purple soul disappeared entirely, leaving behind the chaos and destruction of the city and the baffling entity that had caused it all.

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A.N:

You focus too much on the goal, the final objective. But you need to pay attention to the path to get to that goal as well. 

Don't just think 'I have to win this battle'. 

Think 'How am I going to win this battle?' and make it a reality. 

Don't envision just the goal, but every step of the path to that goal.

Or else you'll end up mindlessly charging through obstacles as you beeline for the goal when you could just step around them.

You need to think more about the present, and how to get to the future you want."

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No stat changes.

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I already have the rest of the first volume planned , and so I will start planning the next one in the

world of ATLA. I have decided on Zuko as the possessed character. If you have ideas leave them in the comments. If you want an in depth discussion with me, you can join the discord.