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In the beginning there was Free Magic. There had always been Free Magic, and there was nothing in the Free Magic being’s experience to suggest otherwise. That being’s existence had been wild and devoted to cannibalizing the weak and unwary as the being learned to be strong and willing to change. Sometimes prey escaped teeth and claw, and passed on those lessons to its descendents, but that only made the hunt more challenging. More interesting.
The being wondered why it was that she wanted something more interesting.
It came to her over time that the answer to her question, and the other questions beginning to form inside her, was that she was a living being, separate from everything else. Defeating her prey was increasingly simple, because she remembered and thought and learned, whereas they seemed to act only on instinct. She realized that she was different from the other Free Magic beings she fought, and this difference meant that there was a “they” that was separate from her “I”.
Being different, being separate, was a beautiful thing and she sang out, I am, I am, I am! This too was beautiful. Talking was something that she had always been able to do, which some of the more powerful Free Magic beings had, but it had always been used to intimidate and threaten. There weren’t any other concepts that needed to be conveyed other than to assert dominance over her prey. It was never to assert that she was aware, knew herself to be aware, and wanted everyone to know it.
She had spent so long being alone that she jumped with surprise when she heard sung back to her I am, you are, she is, we are! It was a surprise she had never dreamed of occurring, because for all of her existence it had only been her that was aware that she was separate to others. The voices sounded far more confident than she felt, but when she tasted their song, she knew it was less powerful than her own. They had been very brave to respond, she realized, because the version of her that did not understand “I” would have eaten them. Of course, she thought immediately afterward, the older version of her would never have sung out “I am”.
Who are you?
I am Ranna. I sing and all that hear me slumber when I will it.
I am Mosrael. I sing to wake those who cannot be woken. Who are you, sister?
A name was something she hadn’t thought about until now, but now that she was she found the idea intriguing. Names meant there were multiple “I”s in one place, so that you had to distinguish one being from another, and she liked the idea of that. If she had a name, these beings could speak to her and she would know that they meant her. Her name would define her, she thought, as well as identify her, and the other two had such meaningful names. She could not choose a name that did not suit her.
She thought about possible names for a moment.
I am Kibeth, she sang finally, and knew it was the right name for her. It described to her the longing inside her to speak to others, to walk and to make others walk to her will. I sing and those who hear me dance to their final death.
Having names did not mean that the three of them were left alone, and the three fought together against the other Free Magic beings that crossed their shared path. While the battles were easier than they had been before, they were not as boring to Kibeth because she had to factor in not only her own actions, but the actions of the others, and ensure that they survived the battle as well. She noticed also that they looked after her as well, which was a delightful thing. They mattered to each other. With the others beside her, the battles meant more, and there were things to do when not fighting, as well. She thought about this for a while, and eventually decided that she must have been lonely. The difference between alone and lonely was interesting to her, and she made a mental note to explore the differences properly later on, when she found someone who was as lonely as she was, and thus could understand her questions.
After roaming as a pack of three for some time, though Kibeth could not say with any certainty how long, they found six others, each stronger than the three, but also far lonelier. The more powerful of their group had been singing out for others to understand them, and given up, long before Kibeth had existed. As their pack grew, Kibeth wondered if there might be more than the nine they had found who understood themselves to be separate beings. They never found more as the other Free Magic beings they encountered were strong enough to fight but too weak to form their own identity in their eternal struggle against a final death. They could crawl through the Precincts, claw their way back from death with commendable tenacity, but it was only by brute instinct. They could not understand like the Nine could.
They could not sing I am.
As the Nine travelled together, they began to form distinct personalities. Belgaer thought it was in response to their exposure to others, and that they had innate traits that expressed themselves in different ways. Kibeth had listened to his explanations and wondered idly whether they had their abilities mixed up, as Belgaer had an uncanny ability to put her to sleep. She kept this observation to herself, but similar comments gained for her a reputation for mischief and irreverence, though when necessary she was just as fierce as the others in defending what was theirs. Many Free Magic creatures fell as a result of her teeth and claws and whatever else she shaped her body to be. The others were as interesting to her as her own personality was, though she was not especially close to any one in particular. She noted with interest the growing closeness between Saraneth and Astarael, but had decided that kind of devotion wasn’t for her. She only wished for the thrill of the fight, the pleasure of the rut, and to do as she chose when she chose.
However, even the clean delight of battle dimmed eventually, despite the fact they now fought as a pack. Kibeth thought about this, and concluded that there was no reason for them to fight outside of mere survival, and it wasn’t as if there was any being that could challenge that. They had no cause to fight for, and nothing could withstand the Pack of Nine, the brightest and most terrible of Free Magic beings, and so any fight had a foregone, and therefore unrewarding, conclusion. What they needed was a cause, and she was reminded of her wish that there would be others like them. The crucible of existence was far too harsh for other intelligent beings to rise, not helped at all by the sheer power that the Pack of Nine could bring to bear, but she wondered whether it was necessary that they had to rise on their own. Just because the Nine had didn’t mean that everyone should have to.
First, she needed a group that would be able to adapt and learn from the Nine instead of those who would just slavishly follow their every suggestion. The Nine had fought hard for their lessons, and it would be a terrible waste to foster those who were too weak to change themselves even after being taught. There had to be a spark of ingenuity already present, otherwise it would simply be a waste of time. Finding such a group was a difficult task, as many of the beings were focused on the undeniably necessary goal of surviving long enough to reproduce. She gazed upon them with pity, because she had been like them once, and did not tell the others. Orannis had long removed its capacity for pity and it would only feel contempt.
Where do you go? Dyrim asked.
I walk, Kibeth answered. She didn’t have a destination in mind, not of the sort that Dyrim would think of. She searched for something nebulous, and she wished she knew the words to describe what it is that she looked for. Her sense of humor got the better of her for a second as she added, Marking my territory.
Dyrim sniffed in disdain, and Kibeth grinned as she went on her way.
Her quest stopped when she encountered a group of strange animals that walked solely on their hind legs and fashioned tools to use with their forefeet. Unlike the other species she had looked at, they were not adept in Free Magic. In fact, its use made them sicken and die, and individually they weren’t a threat to even the weakest of Free Magic beings. However, Kibeth saw potential: they fought ferociously together, and even more so when their young were threatened. They too understood the need to fight as a pack, like the Nine, and it inspired her that others understood the need to work as a group. She wanted to see what they would do if given assistance.
She chose to first teach these creatures how to sing the weaker Free Magic creatures to their will, using the songs that made her who she was, and using herself as a buffer against the corrosive effects of magic. She had expected them to use their voices to sing, as Kibeth did, and so had never dreamed that they would create tools. She delighted as they passed to their children pipes and bells that sung in an echo of her voice. But it was not a perfect solution, as they still sickened and died, albeit slower than they had before. There had to be a better answer for the question that they posed.
She spoke to Ranna about her humans, and at first Ranna called them Kibeth’s strange pets. However, after Ranna met them, she too was convinced. She watched as the humans fashioned tools to sing with Ranna’s voice as well as Kibeth’s, and to cause them to sing in harmony. They sickened and died still, but when Ranna and Kibeth were able to protect them from Free Magic’s corrosive effects with their own magic, teaching them how to sing the dead to sleep and to dance to their final deaths, they all lived far longer and better.
Sister, Ranna said, after witnessing the humans drive off a Free Magic being that ordinarily would have annihilated them without the tools they had fashioned, We should protect these beings. They are young and have much to learn, but one day they may grow up to be like us.
Hopefully not, Kibeth said. That would be boring.
Ranna spoke to the others of the humans’ potential. She spoke of their ability to create tools, their shared desire to protect their young until they could fend for themselves, and their willingness to sacrifice their lives to protect the pack. She spoke of creating a safe space for these humans to live by using the Nine’s very essence to craft a shelter for them, which she called a Charter. This would be the greatest challenge of all, a challenge worthy of the nine most powerful beings in existence. Kibeth could tell that some were listening. Unfortunately, not all were in agreement.
No! Orannis said, brightest and most terrible of them all. I will not sunder myself for the weak!
Orannis had been the first to claw itself out and had defended itself against all Free Magic creatures long before any of the others had done so, and by the infrequent stories it told of that time, it was a savage time that it sometimes missed. It had lived, alone and proud, for longer than Kibeth could imagine, and it was this strength of will that had inspired the others. Now, though, Kibeth thought that that strength was turned towards a fear utterly unworthy of the brave, proud creature she had known. Contempt she might have respected, even as she resisted it. Fear made something prey.
We won’t be gone completely, Dyrim said, thoughtfully. We’ll always remain, only now we’ll have a purpose.
If you want, Yrael said with a diffident shrug, looking at its claws with studied indifference. It’s of no consequence to me.
I think, Belgaer began and the others fell silent. Belgaer had always been slow to speak, but when she did, it was always important to her, even if Kibeth had a tendency to ignore her when Belgaer’s thoughts became too esoteric for her liking. That was, after all, why Belgaer was the Thinker in truth. We have existed for so long, but what do we do? We exist. These humans create. Together, we could carve out something greater.
I have a purpose, Orannis said. I destroy the unworthy.
Kibeth turned to look at it, struck by how monstrous it sounded at that moment. She could not see the creature she had fought beside for so long. She wasn’t even sure that creature had ever existed, if Orannis was capable of burning that guise away so quickly. I will save you from your own foolishness. Choose now: stand with me or be cut down.
Seven chose. The war began.
At their first clash, they lost, and Orannis laughed from the other side of a battlefield that bore no resemblance to the world it used to be. The few living things that managed to cling to existence on the broken shell that the Seven and Orannis had made of their world quickly became horrific monsters. Kibeth killed them as cleanly and quickly as she could, spitting out the taste of corruption afterward, but there were limits to how much time she could spend putting them out of their misery. She had never gone up against her own limits and come short until this battle, and the resulting carnage on Orannis’ part chilled Kibeth to her core. She hadn’t known it was capable of pure destruction purely because there was nothing that could stop it.
Cast aside this foolishness! Orannis said, gesturing grandly at the wasteland that they had created of this world. You cannot defeat me! Everything you do furthers my goals! I will destroy everything weaker than me!
The Seven looked upon the wreckage and Orannis and refused to despair. They knew that if they let it, Orannis would destroy everything that ever existed, because there was nothing stronger than it, including themselves. Their choices were to defy Orannis or join it; there was no room for giving up. Further, they had not become the Seven by giving up at the first hardship. They sang their defiance, and Orannis moved on to its next conquest.
On the fifth world, Orannis learned to bind the living and dead to its will, strengthening or weakening the flesh as it chose, while infusing their bodies with a fragment of its power. That battle was particularly dangerous; the Seven barely escaped final death, and the battle on the eighth world was purely to buy them enough time to work out what was to be done to combat this new threat.
It was the thirteenth world where the Nine finally managed to hold off Orannis and ultimately defeat it. Orannis had splintered its power across too many bodies, and the strain of holding all of those to its will was too much to bear. In the end, pride had been its undoing. But it had not been an easy battle. The Seven were depleted, even fighting a mere shadow of what Orannis could have been, and they knew that if they were to stop Orannis, this was the only chance they had. They could not leave it alone, and it was too powerful for them to destroy. The Seven weren’t convinced they could kill Orannis, even if they had wanted to.
Instead, they bound it. Kibeth didn’t think she’d forget the way that Orannis screamed with fury as its essence was forced into a cage of magic and metal, and then split into two spheres. Wards of precious metal, wood and bone bound its split essence, and even these weren’t enough to ensure that Orannis could never escape its prison. She thought that she might need to remember this moment, so that it could serve as a warning to anyone who sought to meddle in the future. Perhaps, she thought to herself, they had encouraged humanity’s ingenuity and curiosity too far, because if anyone would be tempted to bring two spheres together just to see what would happen, it would be them.
The next question was what to do with Yrael. Though he had not stood against them, he had not stood with them either. The working they were about to do was something that had never been even considered possible, and until it had time to settle, it could be easily unraveled by the actions of a powerful Free Magic being with no loyalty to the continued existence of that working. While Yrael had done nothing this time, he had been the closest of them to Orannis. It was possible this was part of a plan. The fact that he had followed in their wake from world to world, hiding his signature in the overall devastation of the worlds, did not help his case.
Kibeth doubted that Yrael had worked with Orannis after how easy it was to bind Yrael to their will. On Orannis’ defeat, all of them had been bound to this planet as a result of the battle; it was impossible to escape to a new world. There may not even be one. Yrael had run from them on this world that they had fought and won on, using the same strategy as before. It wasn’t a bad strategy, as this world had become distorted during their fighting in such a way that one part of it was now far more saturated in Free Magic than the other and sensing anything was difficult. However, even a spirit like Yrael sang out like a siren to anyone who had the ears to hear it. The only thing Yrael had that the others didn’t was speed, but that was an advantage that was whittled away over time. Eventually Yrael was run to ground and trapped.
Then the Seven set about their business to create the Charter. They knew that two had to stand outside the Charter, aware of its existence but unable to access it, so that they could hold the strong warp that was the other five in neat lines. Kibeth volunteered instantly. There was a world for her to walk in still, and she wanted to see what the humans would do. The other one to stand outside was Astarael. Kibeth had been surprised at this, because she had thought that Astarael would follow Saraneth, but Astarael had assured them that her love for Saraneth would mean she would protect this Charter forever.
The only one not working was Yrael, bound and seemingly disaffected by the magical goings-on. Struck by whimsy, Kibeth went to speak to him.
I suppose you think you’re clever, Yrael said. Do you even know what you’re doing?
I think… Kibeth said, and stopped. She waited for Yrael to speak again. He obliged readily enough.
Don’t, Yrael said with a sneer. You never were good at that. You might have pretended at being independent, but now you’re just blindly following the others into oblivion.
No, Kibeth said. Most of me will follow them into the making of the Charter. But not all of me. I will be part of the woof, and not the warp.
And the other? Yrael said. You are far too small to weave the others on your own. Saraneth, maybe? He’s sanctimonious enough to think he could pour almost all of himself into something and still have the right to say what others should and should not do.
Astarael, Kibeth said.
You’re all mad, Yrael said, fear stripping away his smarmy confidence. Anyone but her would have been better.
Perhaps, Kibeth said, and wondered what it was that Yrael knew. But she was the one that offered.
Fools, all of you, Yrael said bitterly. And I the greatest fool of all, for being bound to you.
As they created the Charter, Kibeth remembered Yrael’s words and whether they should have taken the time to ask Yrael more questions. As they had planned, five of them had disappeared into the working, and Kibeth felt a terrible tear as a significant part of what made her Kibeth was torn away.
When it was done, Astarael and Kibeth were left weaker than they had been. They had known that this would happen, and had chosen this fate. It still hurt. They would never be as strong as they had been, and now they were more alone than they had been in a very long time. Kibeth gave up the dream of rending the Charter apart and reclaiming the vast majority of her essence with a philosophical shrug. This is what she had intended to do, and it would hardly do to mope around about the consequences. Astarael, on the other hand, attempted to cling to what little fragments of the Charter that would acknowledge her. These fragments dissolved into nothingness as she tried to weave it into a mantle sodden with her tears.
It won’t work, Kibeth said. We’re outside it now.
Astarael turned to her finally and smiled. It was very unsettling. It’s all right, she said. I can feel Saraneth. I’ll wait here for him forever. You can stay, if you like.
Kibeth shook her head. No, she said. I’m going for a walk.