Chương 21: Act 1, Chapter 21: Connection

Day in the story: 1st October (Wednesday) The world twisted the moment I touched the painting. I felt as though I stood still while everything else surged past at a speed beyond light. Before I could blink—within the span of a single heartbeat—the universe bent to my will, and I was home. In my real Earthy room. I was simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted. I had just teleported through the fabric of space, between two entirely different worlds—it was something that should not be treated lightly.

I scrambled up, ignoring the sharp pain flaring through my ribs and grabbed my phone from the desk, unplugged it and tapped Zoe's name. She picked up before the first full ring had even finished.

"I made it!" I squealed, unable to contain myself.

"I saw you!" she burst out.

"You were consumed by light and then just gone in a blink!" There was a groggy voice in the background.

"What's going on…?" Peter's.

"Nothing much, Pete," Zoe called back quickly. I heard a door shut so she must've stepped into another room.

"Sorry, Lex. I woke him up with all the excitement. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Yeah, me too." I laughed, then winced as a jolt of pain ran through my ribs.

"It saved me so much time, I would've had to walk all the way back to my Domain. But now… I think I can enter Ideworld whenever I want. I mean, that's huge! This changes everything."

"You need to rest first," she said. Her voice was gentle now. Protective.

"You've been through hell."

"Yeah… I feel like crap. My body is wrecked. I need at least a couple of days to heal up."

"Then take them. Sleep. Eat. Let yourself recover." I hesitated.

"I'm afraid to wash the paint off now."

"You'll have to eventually, right?"

"Yeah… I know. I'll do it. Then I'm going straight to bed."

"Good. Let me know when you wake up. I'll bring you something to eat." I smiled.

"Thank you, Zoe."

"Take care, Lex."

"You too." I ended the call and the room became quiet again. My paint-stained fingers trembled slightly as the adrenaline faded. I glanced down at my arms, still marked, still shining faintly in the soft morning light.

I managed to leave the bathroom before Sophie woke up, if she was even here to begin with. Both my sides and my left shoulder were an ugly shade of purple, bruised deep and aching like hell. I found out that the painted armor didn't dull the pain at all. It might have stopped the worst of the damage, but the pain stayed a constant, with or without the protection. Still, maybe I could do something about that. There's artistry in makeup, after all and I was good at that.

I pulled out my kit and slowly and carefully went to work. I covered the bruises, shaded them away, turned purple into healthy skin tone. When I was done, I looked at myself in the mirror and whispered:"Be a healed, strong body." And just like that, the pain was gone. For a moment, I was stunned. Then I smiled. But it didn't take long for the reality to settle in. I wasn't actually healed. I just looked like I was and apparently, that was enough to trick my body into believing it too.

If I was right, the pain was gone because my Authority said it should be, but the real injuries were still there, quietly waiting for it to be gone. To test my theory, I grabbed a remover and wiped the makeup away. My carefully painted illusion dissolved and so did the health it bring. Just like that, the pain came roaring back and the bruises bloomed again—dark and hellishly angry. A fun little experiment. Potentially useful, in the right context. I've lived with pain before. I can live with it again.

Better to heal for real, even if it hurt. I got dressed and glanced outside. It was one of those mythical downpours where the clouds seem hellbent on enacting their full, furious vengeance upon the earth to drown it all in a flood. I couldn't remember the last time it rained like this. Perfect weather for an umbrella. I grabbed mine from the corner and held it in my hand measuring its weight and its balance. That's when the idea hit me—this could be more than just rain cover.

Closed—it looked almost like a baton, or a sword: sleek and unassuming. Open—it spread wide like a shield. With the fabric paints arriving today, along with the sewing machine and materials for my armor project, I could do something with this. Turn it into something more. A concealed weapon. A portable shield. A tool of defense and offense, carried in plain sight, with no questions asked. I couldn't wait to test the idea, but there was something else I could do right now. Something I should do.

My personal travel magazine. My spellbook. I grabbed the leather-bound sketchbook I'd made myself for an Uni project half a year ago. It was hefty, but light and sturdy enough to survive being dragged between worlds, yet elegant enough to carry with pride. It zipped shut completely and even had a metallic rings to attach a chain or belt and good durable steel frame. I'd designed it to be practical, beautiful and unknowingly, magical.

I grabbed white marker and wrote Spellbook on the cover, added a small smiling rabbit face in the corner, and stylized spider's web in the other. It was time to turn it into what it was always meant to be. I opened it to the first page. Only one place deserved that honor: my Domain. I used my colored watercolor pens, they blurred just enough with water for soft gradients but didn't require the full setup of acrylics or oils. I painted the crystal at the center, its surface pulsing faintly in my mind as I worked.

Around it, white circular walls and statues, each one depicting a version of me, standing vigil near the edge. Above, a blue sky shaped from overcast tones. My Domain, an inner sanctum, now given form. I turned the page. The second place was my real-world room. My first sanctuary, long before magic ever touched me. It deserved the facing page, two sides of the same coin, just like in reality. On the next, I painted Mr. Penrose's private room at the Finest.

Shrouded in shadow but never threatening, safe for those allowed in. I'd need to make him a pendant soon, like Peter's, so he could remember magic properly. And I'd have to show him what I could do now. Despite the dark corners of his work, he'd always been honest with me. Even when honesty was hard, so he deserved the same. I left the opposite side of that page blank, for the Ideworld version of that space, if it existed. Or if it became important. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen.

Report the violation. Then, a new page. A group of three trees casting long shade on a low wall with a small crevice, a quiet place on campus I'd discovered during my first semester. Hidden, unused, tucked far away from the foot traffic of the main buildings. I'd gone there when I needed peace and the image of it stayed sharp in my mind. If I could anchor, it could cut down travel time to campus significantly. A few minutes' walk, instead of a train or a bus or an hour-long hike.

If it worked, it could become everything. I closed the book and held it for a moment, feeling its weight. Soon, I'd try them all. My own handmade system of travel, of memory and meaning. My world, bound in leather. I opened the Travel Grimoire to the first page, my Domain. I pressed my fingers against the painted crystal and whispered silently in my mind: Take me there. The world twisted, not with pain, but with an odd fluidity, as if it was being unspooled and rethreaded into the weave of space itself.

And then, a heartbeat later, I stood inside the heart of my power. The sunlit sky stretched high above, the ceiling of my inner universe painted in warm blues. The white stone walls curved around me in a circle, but not all of it remained untouched, some sections now bore the paintings I had created in my Grimoire. They had manifested here, perfectly replicated on the Domain's walls. At the center stood the jagged crystal, my soul core. It pulsed with shifting light, dancing through all colors of the spectrum.

Threads of mist wove in and out of it like breath. Lightning crackled inside, a flicker of white, a bolt of sky-blue, even a bright, improbable pink. I stepped toward it and laid my hand on its rough, glowing surface. As our lights met, mine from within, soul core's from without, something passed between us. It was like a dance of currents, a mingling of lifeblood and stardust. The moment it ended, I felt it deep in my chest: the Domain had grown stronger. I had grown stronger.

Curious, I reached with my soul toward the Soulmark of Connection, now represented inside the crystal by the blackened rivet from the bridge-castle. I focused, searching for something deeper than instinct. Something foundational. Help me understand. Images and words flooded my mind, not in any language I'd learned, but one my soul somehow understood. [The Soulmark of Connection allows the artist to touch a painting and use it as a spatial tether to a real, existing location. [By rendering a faithful depiction of a place they have known, the artist creates a magical anchor tied to memory and representation. The painting must depict a real, specific location the artist has physically experienced or deeply internalized. [The connection is anchored through memory and representation.] I exhaled slowly. Can it grow? Can it be more? [Yes. Every Soulmark evolves when the Domain grows.] And how do I make my Domain grow? [The Domain grows when you share your experiences with the core.] So that's what I'd done, just now, by reaching out. By opening myself. [The more you use your Authority and the closer it comes to breaking, the more potent the essence and thus the growth. Risk and meaning strengthen the connection and resonance.] I shifted my focus now to the other Soulmark— Identity. It shimmered as I called to it, painted within me but also reflected in the crystal's surface. Tell me what you are. [Art brought to life retains its identity, not its substance. [It becomes what it is understood to be. [The artwork remains still, bound to its medium. [It functions through concept, not movement. Through truth, not illusion. [The art has to have the appearance of being true or real.] I took a step back, breathing slower now. It made sense. Identity was not about transformation, it was about recognition —verisimilitude. The world accepts what the soul declares when art makes it clear enough to believe. I looked around my Domain. The crystal pulsed at the center. The marks shimmered in their facets. The walls curved around me like a sanctuary. And now metaphysical doors were there too. Repainted with care through by memory. Each a tether to someplace I had truly known. But there was one thing missing. There was no real door out of this place. How am I supposed to enter Ideworld from within my Domain? I barely finished the thought when the Domain itself responded. One of the white walls shifted, parting like silk drawn aside. From within it emerged a gate: tall, elegant and shaped from the same obsidian-like substance as the floor beneath my feet. Dark and subtly reflective." Thank you," I said aloud, half-smiling. The crystal flared gently, its light growing a fraction brighter, as if answering. Or maybe it was proud. Maybe it liked being seen. I stepped toward the gate, but every movement reminded me that I still felt like I'd been kicked by an angry titan. Exploration can wait. That's what I told myself. And just like that, the gate vanished. I turned back to one of the painted doors, the one depicting my real room, my refuge. My second painting in the Travel Grimoire. I placed my hand against it and thought, clear and simple, Take me home. It was instantaneous. Just like the last time, just a flicker and I was home. Was it because the veil between the worlds was thin, or maybe my Domain and my room had always been two sides of the same coin now, that I didn't know. And yet it still gave me comfort. The shower, the makeup trick, the realization about the umbrella, the painting of portals, the leap between worlds, all of it had left me strangely energized. I wanted to ride the wave of that feeling, to keep moving forward with my back straight and my head high. But like I told Zoe earlier and like I felt again now, I needed sleep. I didn't even undress, I just let gravity take me and collapsed onto the bed, letting the world fade. I was woken by a knock on the door. I sat up too fast and winced as pain shot through my sides. I glanced at my phone—two missed calls from Mr. Penrose that I'd have to deal with soon and a clock that indicated afternoon was already here." Come in," I called, running a hand through my hair, trying to look halfway presentable. Zoe entered first, smiling softly, though her eyes held that usual chill. Still—to me from now on—she will always radiate silver light. It might've looked cold, but it felt warm. She carried a plate of soup, fragrant with tomato and basil and placed it carefully on my desk before taking a seat. Peter followed behind her." You okay, Lex?" There was concern in his voice as he sat beside me on the bed. I looked from his earnest face to Zoe's still-smiling one and nodded." Yeah. Just a little banged up. I was in that world again last night."" I knew it!" Peter shot a triumphant, quick glance at Zoe, "Told you she'd go." Zoe didn't say anything. She just smiled and I briefly wondered if she'd be okay with me telling Peter the truth about her being there. Better to let her decide." You know me," I said with a shrug, instantly regretting the motion." Couldn't help myself. But it was worth it, I've got some new tricks now." Peter leaned in, his eyes narrowed." New tricks? What kind of tricks?"" Do you mind, Zoe?" I interrupted, gesturing toward the soup." Not at all," she said, standing and moving to sit beside Peter. She leaned her head against his shoulder and just like that, they looked perfect. Good for each other. I sat down at my desk and took a spoonful. The soup was rich and warm, tomato paste with basil, earthy and soothing." You made this?" I asked, genuinely impressed." I did."" Is it too late for me? Do you like girls too?" I teased. She laughed and Peter gave me the look of a man betrayed." What new stuff?" he repeated, ignoring the joke." You're such a good cook, Zoe. He'll never appreciate it like I would."" I know. I love you too, Lex," she said, still laughing. We both laughed, but the motion tugged at my ribs and I winced, clutching my side." Seems like those new tricks cost more than you're letting on, huh?" Peter muttered." Yeah. A little more than I admitted. But it was worth it. I made some powerful connections." Zoe chuckled under her breath and Peter's eyes narrowed. He stood abruptly." You, " he pointed at Zoe, "you know something. Don't you?" She looked up at him, serene." Yes. I was there."" What!?"" She saved my life, actually," I added before thinking. Zoe tried to smooth it over." She's overplaying it. It wasn't that bad. We were never really in danger." Peter sat back down, still fuming but visibly calmer." How did you go with her? You were next to me the whole night."" I told you," Zoe said gently." I can enter spiritually while I sleep." He blinked." Right. I forgot. So… you really weren't in danger?"" You worry about me?" Zoe asked, teasing, but her voice wavered just slightly." Of course I do, you stupid girl. I love you." That landed like a thunderclap. Zoe froze, eyes wide. She hadn't heard him say it before. I quietly took another spoonful of soup, debating whether to discreetly vanish under the bed." I… I love you too," she said. Her voice was soft. Vulnerable in a way I'd never seen from her, not even while flying toward Red's face. But Peter wasn't about to let it hang." We'll come back to that later, Zoe, I promise. But I'm still mad. You two owe me a story." I told him about it. About everything that happened since I'd stepped through the portal. Zoe added her own parts when the story reached her. I downplayed the danger where I could, just enough to let him breathe easier.