But man is a Noble Animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave, solemnizing Nativities and Deaths with equal lustre, nor omitting Ceremonies of Bravery, in the infamy of his nature. Life is a pure flame, and we live by an invisible Sun within us.
—Thomas Brown, Hydriotaphia,
Urn Burial (1658)
Precepts are the fundamental underpinnings of the world. In this chapter, we’ll discuss the way the world really works, and disabuse you of a lot of Shadow notions.
Escapism.
An examination of what it means to be human.
Secrets.
A suggestion that the world is bigger and more wonderful than we can understand.
Surreal.
In Shadow, scientists and philosophers struggle to quantify and explain the world.
This isn’t Shadow.
The Actuality is dualistic, with both a material and an ideal nature. (Shadow stresses the material, unbalancing the perception of both natures.) A materialist action (light rays hitting the rods and cones in your eyes) can produce an idealistic result (experiencing the color red). This experience is a quale (plural qualia). Your eyes see red, but your mind experiences red. Qualia are the essence of magic—the meeting of the otherwise contradictory and opposite materialistic and idealistic natures of reality.
This is not something that happens by design or intention. You cannot see red but experience green, no matter how hard you try. Qualia are emergent. They arise from consciousness—they arise from a being having a soul.
Every spell, ritual, and magical act has a quale component. A spell begins and passes through the realm of the ideal to affect the world. A mind (idealism) sets in motion an action in space and time (materialism) that by effect produces a quale (idealism) in the form of a spell that affects the world (materialism).
Magic is not science. One must understand the important third step—the quale—to cast a spell or perform a ritual. Thus, these things are more than the sum of their parts. You can’t just make the motions and say the words and expect anything to happen. The vislae uses the motions and words, for example, to allow (not force) the quale to emerge, but it is the quale that affects reality.
This means that magic must “pass through” a mind to exist. But there is magic in the world that arises from no vislae’s spell or ritual. This suggests a larger mind—a world mind, an unmoved mover, an uncreated creator—that experiences the quale of all creation. But what if, as some people believe, that world mind is, in fact, the universe itself?
Sometimes called the Absolute, the uncreated creator appears at some point in the middle of the timeline, a time that is still in the future. Without a creation, there is nothing, and thus, no creator. Creator must have creation, but creation must have a creator. The world mind is, in itself, emergent.
The world creates itself. At this point of emergence, waves cascade both backward and forward in time, creating spacetime. The emergence is, in effect, a spell that the universe casts (its whole existence and all thought and action is the spell). The world is a spell that casts itself.
The fact that we speak of a creator makes us seem religious. That is also a Shadow notion, for it is possible to justify religion and no religion with this understanding. While the uncreated creator may be God (and many in the Actuality believe so), if the Absolute is the universe itself, then there is no divinity involved. And if the creator is instead a force outside of creation, then she is in no way a God that you can pray to or would even be aware of your worship.
Whatever the truth of the creator, one thing that is universally accepted is that the creator is no longer present in creation. If she is a being outside of creation, that’s self-evident, but if the creator is some sort of world mind, after her creation the world ceased to have the singular consciousness she would have needed to cast the spell that created herself.
The Silent Church in Satyrine offers a place to pay homage to the creator. There are a small handful of similar temples throughout the various realms, but not many. In truth, what the Silent Church and others like it really revere is the Legacy. The Legacy offers the greatest amount of proof that the universe was created by some sort of intelligent—and what’s more, compassionate—entity and not mindless happenstance.
The Legacy consists of intentionally placed beings, objects, tools, spells, secrets, and more, left behind in creation by the creator. It would seem that these things were left to help the creatures in the creation. The common thread is that they provide succor, health, or protection.
Usually, the Legacy in any of its forms is difficult to discover. A Legacy spell may be inscribed on the underside of a rock high atop a mountain or spelled out in the swim patterns of a particular deep-sea fish.
Angels are the primary beings that claim to be part of the Legacy. But other creatures, both common and unique, may also be found to be part of it.
Items of the Legacy are always significant, durable, useful, and appropriate. A shield, a magical salve, or a hammer could all be of the Legacy. One item specific to the Legacy is called a vigor shard. When activated, the shard of glowing, golden light fuses with your hand, and energy infuses your body and being. You heal 1 Wound and gain 6 bene that you can place into any pool(s). You can also cast a spell (or use another ability) in the next round with no Sorcery cost.
People in the know always celebrate the discovery of a new aspect of the Legacy. It grants a sense of security. It lets them know they’re not alone.
Physics is a Shadow word. It doesn’t have much meaning in the Actuality, because it implies a single set of inflexible rules governing all of reality, and that just doesn’t exist in the Actuality.
In the Actuality, we don’t use “physics” as a word or a concept. Instead, we speak of the precepts of reality. These are the truths of the world(s), and because of the incredible variation that exists, the precepts are very broad—and even then sometimes have exceptions. It’s important for all vislae to understand the major precepts, although in their full breadth, the precepts are many and complex, and some of them are secrets. And, as with all secrets, you won’t discover them all right away.
You’re going to have to disabuse yourself of notions like planets, celestial mechanics, thermodynamics, the speed of light, and all that sort of thing. Of course, you know all about these topics from Shadow, because you’re smart and value knowledge, and there they were called the truth of things. But there’s no place for such Shadowthinking here. The Actuality has its own rules.
Magic is a part of the world, and it is apart from the world. These are the two contradictory views of magic. And like so many dichotomous ideas, both are true.
Magic is the fundamental force in the world. It’s interwoven into everything. Even to suggest that magic “powers” things is to hold it too much at arm’s length, because it suggests that the things it powers are, or could somehow be rendered to be, apart from magic. The way Shadow science teachers talk about physics is how we in the Actuality should think about magic. It doesn’t run everything—it is everything.
Even the word “magic” probably gives the wrong impression, because it suggests a concept beyond the norm. As do words like “supernatural.” Magic isn’t supernatural—it’s just natural. This means that it’s misleading to say that vislae use magic. Everyone and everything uses magic simply by existing. Vislae use spells. They use rituals. They use weaving. And so on.
Magic is change. Magic breaks all the rules. It is the counterclockwise action in a clockwise world.
Magic takes the world and makes it better. It is the force that allows us to go upstream rather than simply be carried along, powerless, by the metaphorical river. It allows us to make a mark on the world. It allows mortals to shout to the gods, “We are here!” It shows the gods that they do not have a monopoly on understanding and power.
Magic works. It is always purposeful, but it is sometimes uncontrolled, or poorly controlled.
Magic takes many forms, but they all are primarily matters of technique and understanding. Magic is utilized through secrets—spells, rituals, Hidden Knowledge, secret souls, and so on. Vislae are those who have mastered those secrets, and vislae are few in number compared to the entirety of the population.
Other people who may not be vislae often possess a little magic, such as a charm, a hex, or a minor cantrip. Then there are the zilats, who are born with an affinity for a single magical effect and hone it to perfection. Those who never use any magic are rare and avoid it very intentionally. Elderbrin and lacuna are, of course, creatures of magic—there are no forsakers among them.
Magic flows from the Invisible Sun through the other eight suns. It flows along the Path of Suns, but also along the Nightside Path. Each of these is a current of magic.
But there are other currents as well. Those who can tap into them are better able to cope with the waxing and waning of magic, particularly as represented by the cards of the Sooth Deck.
These nonstandard currents are known as Zain, Aevyr, Ouzan, and Thray. Some vislae believe there are others—some say many others. A vislae who can access one or more of these currents of magic supposedly unlocks new spells and practices unique to each, and for each accessible nonstandard current, a vislae can ignore or double a Sooth card effect once every nine cards played (thus, once every time the Path of Suns is full of cards). Secrets and long-form magic are often needed to open the door to tap into a new current initially.
It’s not just what spell you cast, but how you cast it.
There are five different registers of magic a vislae can use to cast a spell, if they wish. The registers reflect the vislae’s mood, intention, and purpose for casting the spell in a way that only another vislae will understand. It has to do with gestures, words, and very subtle manipulations of the magical currents.
It’s possible but difficult to use a register deceptively.
The registers are:
✦✦ Formal: When casting a spell in the presence of one’s superiors, or with an intent to impress, formal is the best choice.
✦✦ Casual: The default register, this conveys either a lax attitude or a relaxed familiarity. Healing your best friend’s wound is likely done in the casual register, not because you’re casual about your hurt friend, but because you are close.
✦✦ Offensive: If you are intentionally meaning harm or attempting to intimidate, this is the register to use.
✦✦ Defensive: Often to convey attacks made in selfdefense, the defensive register’s intention is to show no desire to harm.
✦✦ Romantic: Used rarely, this register indicates that you are romantically interested in the target of the spell or an observer.
None of these registers has any mechanical effect, but they are ways that vislae can communicate general ideas or intentions without so much as speaking a word.
Governing our destinies—from the grand schemes of our lives to the minor events we experience daily—the Sooth Deck either predicts the future or guides it, depending on your point of view.
The currents of magic create an ever-changing, complex tapestry of power. The currents move and shift constantly, creating fluctuations that grant a brief facilitation or impediment to certain varieties of spells and other magical practices. Vislae see these changing patterns. They feel them in their very bones and along their skin. To communicate these difficult concepts quickly and easily, they created a set of sixty icons that play along a specific pattern—the Path of Suns—to show the (seemingly) random changes and their effects.
The Sooth Deck represents these icons of pure magical power. They are simple images, each encoded with volumes of meaning, particularly as they interplay with the Path and with each other. Their effects are both immediate (the ebb and flow of magic) and long term (presaging the future).
The Path of Suns is a representation of the soul. Like the colors that indicate the essence of the various realms, the Path of Suns suggests that each individual is complex and ever-changing.
It would be impossible to talk about the way things work—the very precepts of reality—without at least mentioning coincidence. Now, the very word in Shadow suggests random happenstance. But in the Actuality, coincidence means so much more. Because coincidence suggests that two seemingly unrelated things are actually related in some way. Two events. Two objects. Two people. This isn’t random. It’s truth. All sorts of things are connected. Just because mortals don’t understand all the connections doesn’t mean they don’t exist. If a dog barks three times before it rains, that coincidence should not be dismissed as meaningless.
Expecting and understanding coincidence is an important survival trait. Finding someone’s wallet on the street isn’t just random. Somehow, coming into contact with that person is important, or something in that wallet is important for you to have.
Don’t be dismissive of significance just because it’s not obvious. Everything means something. You can’t keep track of it all, but at least try to notice some of the connections. Wise people do, and the more they can notice and remember, the wiser they may seem.
Everything is made of color. Colors are the building blocks of existence—everything is made of color.
Color comes from the suns. That is why, as the Path of Suns would suggest, the suns are at the heart of reality. They provide and maintain existence. The Dark—the absence of color—is nothingness. To break something down to its base components would be to make it only colors.
This is true of both matter and energy.
But as we all know, color isn’t just light. Colors have meaning. Silver is beginnings. Green is life. And so on. Like so many things, it’s possible to think that these are just metaphors. But in the Actuality, metaphors are literally truth.
One of the things that confuses those who’ve spent too much time in Shadow is that the rules that govern reality aren’t inflexible. In fact, change and variation are as much a part of the Actuality as structure or reliability, if not more so.
In other words, gravity pulls you down, unless it doesn’t. When it doesn’t, typically there’s a reason, but sometimes that reason is obvious, or even knowable. Consistency in the Actuality is usually localized. So when there is no gravity to pull you down, whatever rules appear to be in play for you in that environment are also in play for everyone around you. Bendable rules do not mean that the universe is subjective.
“Math and grammar are the only two constants in the Actuality” is one of the accepted truths, and it usually holds true. But there’s more to parse here than it seems at first.
Math in the Actuality works just like it does in Shadow. Two plus two is four. Nineteen comes after eighteen. In its most basic—most abstract—sense, math remains constant. By basic or abstract, we mean numbers themselves, not measurements. A spell can easily make a 6-foot pole into an 8-foot pole. It can turn one pole into three poles. But eight is still more than six, and one is still less than three. These are the basic concepts of math that do not change.
Except (you probably expected “except” by now, which is good—you’re getting the hang of this) that sometimes math can change. But these are big changes. For example, there once was a number between twelve and thirteen. It’s not there anymore, and no one knows precisely why. Somehow its value is utterly missing. The very concept of twelve and thirteen (and all numbers, because it’s an interrelated system) changed without that missing number. But once that change was made, it was made everywhere. Because math is universal.
When people talk about grammar, they’re talking about what you think they’re talking about, but also magic. Because words are magic. Words are the framework in which we—as conscious souls—describe the qualia we experience. Qualia is the real truth and magic is the acceptance and expression of that truth.
Which means that grammar—the ways and rules for how we put words together—is also a description of how magic works. Spells, rituals, and more are different ways of using the grammar to harness magic and produce desired effects. That’s why vislae call the study of magic (and the books you learn magic from) gramarye.
Thus, if you know and cast a spell, it works more or less like it did the last time you cast it. Except when it doesn’t. Because of course it’s more complicated than that. Every vislae knows that the ebb and flow of magical currents cause the particulars of magic to vary in a constant fashion. One moment, divination magic is on the ascendency, and the next, it’s destructive magic.
That’s what the Sooth Deck helps vislae understand and visualize. The turn of a new card represents these ebbs and flows. Moreover, a surge in magical power from one of the currents, a momentary lost connection, or any of a million other things can affect a spell, sometimes leading to magical flux.
So grammar can change—is ever-changing, actually—but someone with real mastery over magic can understand, predict, and control the changes. A vislae with the ability to see all the thousands (millions?) of variables in the flow of magic could control the changes and never experience unexpected flux.
In theory.
People in Shadow constantly probe the boundaries of the illusion that they live within. This exploration—“science”—is an understandable symptom considering the situation. On some level, those trapped in Shadow know, deep down, that their world is not real. Many of them want to peek behind the curtain, so to speak, to confirm these subconscious thoughts. Some look outward and study planets, stars, and such things. Others look inward and find a quantum world of almost unimaginable smallness. Both extremes, of course, are just part of the illusion.
In the Actuality, if you look outward, you see the Path of Suns. And if you look inward, you see the Path of Suns. As within, so without. Colors are the fundamental forces—colors of the suns. And the suns represent the human heart and the human soul. Accept these truths, and you take a large step toward understanding everything.
Astute readers will note that those stalwarts of Shadow science, time and space, are not mentioned as things that remain unchanging. Not at all. Any vislae will tell you that time and space are like any concept—like fire, like music, like love, like knowledge—in that they can be shaped, changed, and turned utterly inside out.
But we should dwell a bit on time, because believe me, it doesn’t work anything like you think it does. As we wrote before, the common belief is that the world is a spell. When it was cast, both space and time began to expand from that epicenter and the world came to be.
When time was created, however, it moved both forward and backward. The origin point of the timeline, then, isn’t at the beginning, but in the middle. Just as there’s more future ahead of us with each passing moment, there’s actually more past behind us as well. The past is being created in real time, and the history books change to fill in what happened. It’s not just a delusion. There really is more past now than there used to be, which means more happened in the past now than it did a hundred years ago.
Confused yet?
Well, it gets worse. You see, as time is expanding backward and forward, we are moving only forward. After time and space were created, the present “began” well before the creation point. If everything before the origin (mid)point is past and everything after it is future, the present started in the past. And our present remains in the past so far. Still, while the past stretches out behind us, we are fast approaching the creation point in the middle. What happens when we get there? One guess is as good as another, but many believe it will be something truly momentous.
Like time and space, matter and energy are entirely mutable. In fact, that’s one of the main things that spells and other magical practices do—manipulate matter and energy.
Beyond conventional (perceptible) matter and energy, though, there exist spiritual elements. The medium that sustains spirits of all types and allows them to move and act in the physical world is called aethyr. Aethyr can be thought of as the spiritual version of air. It permeates and coexists with the material world, but rarely affects or interacts with it. It gives ghosts and spirits sustenance (like air grants to living creatures) and buoys their movement in the same way that air catches beneath the wings of a bird and allows it to fly. Aethyr is composed of memory, which explains why ghosts—in a way, sentient memories—are so closely tied to it. Very rarely, aethyr is called akashic.
Aethyr is tied closely to the fundamentals of magic. It also provides a medium for various devices like radios, telephones, and powered lights. Because they use aethyr to transmit signals, sounds, or light, they don’t need wires or circuits found in the shadows of such things in the Grey. These aethyric devices are useful, but they come with risk—using them invites attention, eavesdropping, or outright interference from the spirit world.
Ectoplasm is in a way the very opposite of aethyr. If aethyr is a substance in the spiritual world, ectoplasm is spirit made manifest in the material world.
Nedalia’s spell seemed to warp the room around her, and even though she knew intellectually that she remained in that room, all her senses told her that she was somewhere else. Everything was a flat greyblue, but then when she looked closer, thin white clouds swirled. They quickly got closer, and she saw that the clouds were composed of glistening diamonds. Each diamond was a stored bit of information. She touched one and learned how to say “distant” in elderbrin.
Passing through the cloud, with the diamonds that weren’t diamonds playing gently off her flesh that wasn’t flesh, tickling her mind with miscellaneous but useless facts, she saw still more clouds and more diamonds. But some of these jewels were larger than the others. More complex information. And suddenly, there were diamonds the size of buildings. Of mountains. The memories of all humanity rose around her.
But how to find what she needed?
The Noösphere is an emergent result of all the thinking beings in the Actuality. It would be wrong to talk about connecting one’s mind to the Noösphere, because all minds are already connected to the Noösphere, all the time (even while asleep). The trick isn’t getting connected, but getting access. The Noösphere stores all thought and memory, but some kind of magic is required to access those thoughts and memories later or—even more difficult—to access other people’s thoughts and memories.
Aethyr is a large component of the Noösphere. The memories entwined within the fabric of the aethyr are an important part of the Noösphere, but the Noösphere is also a way in which people can communicate and interact mentally. People can send messages through the Noösphere or hold entire conversations across great physical distances.
Because memory is a component of the Noösphere, it can also be used to store information and retrieve it again (even from another location). Some people transfer their orbs to “Noösphere accounts,” since orbs represent ideas, making it easy to interface with the Noösphere. Through it, two people with accounts can exchange currency without ever having to touch a physical object or even be near each other.
It’s even quite common to access the Noösphere with a cantrip called Telegnosis to check the current time or get a fairly accurate weather forecast.
Although some vislae can use minor magic, spells, and abilities granting them access to the Noösphere to accomplish the things described above, others can use special devices called Aethyr Links.
One thing you’ll want to get out of your head right away once you’ve escaped Shadow is the idea of technology and the constant advancement over time due to innovation. This is a Shadow concept. What Shadow calls technology is just another part of the natural world. This doesn’t mean that phones and radios grow on trees (although it’s possible, in some places). It means that the concepts of phones and radios have always existed, just like the concepts of trees and rocks have always existed. It isn’t possible to invent a new machine any more than it’s possible to invent a new kind of tree, rock, or river.
In a way, the realization that things that seem like they must have been invented have always been around might make it easier to grasp that the past is being filled in retroactively behind us. Cause and effect are—at least in the big picture—illusory.
Magic, however, changes everything. Magic can make a new kind of tree, rock, or river. Magic is where all innovation lies.
When people return from Shadow, one of the first things they ask about the Actuality is, “What is the technology level?” As though the Actuality can be understood by knowing what kind of computers it has or whether it has a certain type of jet engine. It’s a meaningless question, but they can be forgiven for it—Shadow is a diabolical deception, after all.
In many ways, science and technology are simply the distortions of what Makers do. Understanding that using a certain material and treating it with a certain ingredient will produce a certain effect is as close to the Shadow concept of “science” as we get.
So a telephone in the Actuality contains parts that make it work, just like you have a heart, lungs, and so on that make you work. But even then, to continue the comparison to a Maker’s craft, a certain amount of will goes into what Makers do. Ingredient X plus ingredient Y produces something for a Maker that they wouldn’t produce for someone who does not have the right aptitudes. It produces something in part because the Maker makes it so.
That’s true of all things. There’s a will behind it. That can be the will of a person, a spirit, or even the creator who cast the original spell that started the world. The Actuality was born of an act of will, and thus will underlies all action.
This means that “logical implications” about technology aren’t logical at all. One might argue that in order for an automobile to work, another gasoline-powered engine must work. But that’s Shadow-thinking.
Here are the truths about various types of technologies common to Shadow.
Computers: These are almost entirely illusion. Distorted versions of books, familiars, magically created intelligences as well as other things, and, in the case of the Internet, the Noösphere.
Telephones: There are telephones in the Actuality, although they are rare. They are more common in Satyrine than elsewhere but still not ubiquitous, as they are in Shadow, and certainly not something you regularly carry, as that would be foolish—telephones are dangerous. It is easy to eavesdrop on a telephone conversation and almost as easy to make a connection to an unwanted entity. Telephones reach out into the world and the aethyr to contact someone, but how do you know what you will be contacting? As any Goetic can tell you, connecting to an unknown force is usually something you don’t want to do. In the Actuality, either telephones are used by people who know what they’re doing or they’re used sparingly, and never for anything terribly critical.
Automobiles, Airplanes, and Trains: Illusory concepts like technological progress suggest that, for example, a car is better than a carriage, but in the Actuality, that assumption is baseless. The smokehorses of the Red or a star-footed oolat from Indigo could certainly outrun any train or automobile. And why devise an airliner when a flying barge from the Unfathomable Archipelago can carry a hundred times the number of passengers or cargo? That said, motorized vehicles are not unknown in the Actuality, but they are not common, usually because of aesthetics more than anything else. Of automobiles, airplanes, and trains, trains are the most common, mainly because of their practicality. There are places that cars and planes likely cannot go (at least not easily), but a train’s tracks always suggest a possible way through. The vehicles that get used in the Actuality are generally larger and less uniform in appearance than in Shadow. But overall, in most people’s minds, there are simply more elegant and less expensive ways of getting around, like carriages, dirigibles, and, of course, spells.
Radio and Television: Television is mostly unknown, but many people have radios in their homes. They are usually large, wooden affairs with byzantine antennae, and radio stations are few. Almost as common are turntables and other means of playing recorded music, because as with telephones, tuning a radio can be a dangerous proposition if one accidentally finds a signal sent by a malevolent entity.
Various Machines: Vacuum cleaners, dishwashers, clothes washers, industrial machines, and other such things certainly exist, but most people are unaware of them—they exist only in the background. In Satyrine, for example, such machines are used mostly by thoughtforms, not people. Also, it would be a mistake to assume their ubiquity, as various places might have other means of accomplishing such tasks.
Clocks: Analog clocks are quite common throughout the Actuality.
Biology: Basic biology, as understood in Shadow, is a fair reflection of the truth. Hearts pump blood, lungs take in air, bodies need food, and so on. The problem arises when one attempts to go further than that—into DNA, biochemistry, and so on. Such things represent an overly complex yet overly simplistic way of looking at something that is both as straightforward and as mysterious as life. We also would be foolish to assume that because beings like humans, horses, and cats work one way that all creatures work that way. Elderbrin don’t. Lacuna don’t. There are whole categories of beings that aren’t creatures at all and don’t have recognizable biologies. And of course, the magic of the changeries shows us that humans and other creatures can work in different ways too. Life is so far beyond the Shadow concept of biology that it’s really not worth spending much time thinking about.
Chemistry: Chemistry is almost wholly a (light) distortion of alchemy, potion making, and other processes that involve admixtures and manipulations of various substances.
“Death comes for everyone. But it doesn’t always get what it wants.” Or so goes the old vislae saying.
Death is not the end. That’s Shadow-thinking. Instead, death is a transition to the Pale. For most non-vislae, the transition is fairly swift. A few linger, eventually becoming ghosts. Vislae always have the ability to linger. Some dead vislae can almost immediately try to acclimate themselves to their new, entirely spiritual existence. They very likely retain at least some of their abilities, and they gain certain new ones.
When the body dies, the spirit or soul remains. However, after death, there is a period of transition for the spirit that can last for ten days or even longer, and almost never less than one day. This transition, called Limbo by some, the Empty by others, is a strange state of near non-existence. The spirit hovers around the place of death or—rarely—the spirit’s earthly home, insensate or nearly so. It can be sensed, or even contacted, by those able to do such things, but the spirit is virtually unaware of itself or anything around it.
After this transition, the spirit has two paths before it. It can move on to the Pale, which is by far the most commonly taken path. Less often, the spirit can remain in the realm of the living as a ghost. The factors involved in this are varied and complex. Vislae always have the choice. But for most people, it’s not always a choice—in fact, it rarely is. The choice is thrust upon them, which is probably why so many ghosts are angry and seem trapped in the living world, rather than existing there willingly.
If the dead being doesn’t move on to the Pale, its transitory state comes to an end only when it has the potential of being perceived, at least as an idea. In other words, if a person dies alone in the desert, their spirit may remain in the Empty for decades or centuries before someone comes along. The idea—the concept, the quale—of the spirit is a ghost.
During the transition, spells, ephemera, and effects such as Palingenesis, Revivification, and Lonely Songs the Moon Sings can return a spirit to its body and back to life.
Upon arrival on the shores of the Dead Lands, a spirit slowly acclimates to its new existence in the Pale. Spirits linger in the Pale for decades, sometimes centuries, but even the Pale is transitory. Eventually, they pass along to somewhere else—but where that might be, the living do not know. It’s rumored that the living cannot know.
While it’s possible for a resident of the Pale to return to life, the longer one remains there, the harder it becomes. (Ghosts are almost always easier to restore to life than spirits who have taken up residence in the Pale.)
As previously mentioned, there are spells and incantations that can return a resident of the Pale to life, but once the spirit has been there for more than a year, they are called a “Dead Resident,” and fewer spells will restore them to the land of the living. Spells like Stir the Dead do so very temporarily. Many wishing to restore a Dead Resident to life use Goetic Summoning to bring their spirit back as a ghost, and then use Palingenesis or a similar bit of magic. Revivification and other equally powerful magic can restore a long-dead person back to life, but after twenty years, the spirit becomes a “Pale Native” and the process can be much more difficult or fail altogether. The only sure-fire option to bring a long-dead Pale Native back to the land of the living is the Return to the Living ritual. However, with the exception of Return to the Living, a spirit must want to leave the Pale for any of these to function.
Sometimes, Dead Residents with special dispensation from the rulers of the Pale can leave that realm to travel elsewhere, but this is only temporary. Such beings are typically referred to simply as “the dead” to distinguish them from the living beings around them. They have corporeal forms, but usually it is easy to distinguish them due to their skeletal bodies, rotting flesh, and so on—although many attempt to use special wrappings, spells, and perfumes to keep from decaying too quickly. Special forms of the dead are called revenants (the dead with a mission) and liches (the dead who use magic to stay out of the Pale, perhaps indefinitely). Very rarely, a rogue spirit escapes the Pale on its own and becomes a unique sort of ghost most often called a wraith. Wraiths are usually driven insane by the process of their transition out of the Pale—if they weren’t insane already. Insane or not, wraiths are always extraordinarily dangerous.
“Ghost” is a term for any kind of spirit of something that used to exist. Ghosts of long-gone objects are just as possible as ghosts of people or other creatures. Even slain demons or angels can return as ghosts. In terms of people, though, a ghost is the specific form taken by a dead spirit who remains after the transition period. Regardless of what it was before, a ghost is more than just an idea. In the case of a dead creature (such as a person), it is a sentient idea.
Unless some other force intervenes to change the situation, the following things are always true about the ghosts of creatures:
✦✦ Ghosts are essentially pure qualia. They are only conceptual, albeit at least somewhat self-aware and often free-willed. Without someone to perceive them (or conceive of them), they cannot exist for long. Non-existence in this sense, however, can be undone. A lonely ghost isolated in a forgotten locale will return to existence as soon as someone returns to the spot. They have no physical form and cannot interact with the physical world in a traditional manner.
✦✦ Ghosts know the direction and distance to their physical remains, if they exist.
✦✦ Ghosts have somewhere between 50 percent and 100 percent of the memories they had in life. (This may include things like spells.)
✦✦ Ghosts have all the emotional capacity they had in life (in fact, if anything, it is heightened).
✦✦ Ghosts retain the sensory capabilities they had in life.
✦✦ The presence of a ghost is cold and creates a chilly spot in the air that is perceptible to most anyone.
The following things vary from ghost to ghost:
✦✦ Some ghosts know how they died. Some do not.
✦✦ Some ghosts have the intellectual capacity they had in life. Some are little more than recordings that repeat something they did in life, over and over.
✦✦ Some ghosts are tied to the location where they died, and some are not.
✦✦ Some ghosts are tied to where they lived, and some are not.
✦✦ Some ghosts—usually those without full intellectual capacity—don’t even realize they are dead and continue in a delusional existence mimicking some aspect of their life.
✦✦ Some ghosts are highly motivated to complete a task related to their life. Others have no such compulsions.
✦✦ Some ghosts can see and hear other ghosts normally, but some cannot.
Ghosts can return to life via spells such as Palingenesis.
Being a ghost has both advantages and disadvantages. Being invisible and intangible can be useful, but it is—in the end—more a curse than a blessing. Ghosts can try to overcome this when desired so they can communicate and affect matter, but it is challenging. Some ghosts even attempt to animate their own corpse or haunt an object.
The abilities of ghosts are tied to a series of stages that all ghosts pass through.
1. Residua. New ghosts are called residuum and are little more than formless concepts. Further, newly formed ghosts are usually a bit lost and might become aware and active anywhere within a mile of where they died. Once a ghost finds the spot where they died, they can always sense the distance and direction to that spot or to where their body is, if it has been moved.
2. Apparition. Ghosts who have been in their state for about a year are called apparitions, because apparitions can be seen, and this is the first stage where that commonly happens. It usually takes a ghost a year or more to reach this stage, and an NPC ghost usually must be at least level 2 to ever reach it.
3. Poltergeist. After ten years, a ghost can begin to affect the physical world and is called a poltergeist. An NPC ghost usually must be at least level 3 to ever reach this stage.
4. Haunting Spirit. After fifteen years, a ghost is called a haunting spirit and can tie itself to an object and even possess or animate it. Some can possess a living creature. NPCs typically need to be at least level 5 to be a haunting spirit.
5. Phantom. Phantoms generally don’t evolve until they have been ghosts for thirty years or more. They can take on the appearance of a living being and can operate in the world as such, at least for short periods. Usually, only NPCs of level 7 and higher can become phantoms.
Vislae can “skip ahead” to higher stages much faster by gaining levels in a special narrative skill called ghostly acclimation. Assuming a dead vislae starts at stage 1, they can move to the next higher stage for each level in the skill up to level 4 (like any skill), which makes them a phantom. Ghostly acclimation is a narrative skill and thus costs 2 Acumen per level. A character can gain levels in this skill only while dead (and usually no faster than one day per new level), but the skill does not fade if they return to life. So a vislae who dies, gains 2 levels in ghostly acclimation, and then dies again starts out immediately as a poltergeist. There are special spells or secrets that a vislae (living or dead) can learn to work within the stages.
Incorporeality is the natural state of a ghost, as it is only conceptual. The ghost has no material state, so it cannot affect or be affected by the material world.
Thus, all ghosts can pass through solid materials. Moving through matter is the ghost’s action. At first, doing this is slow—it takes about a round to pass through an inch of material. At stage 2 (apparition), a ghost can move through matter as easily as they can move through air.
At stage 2, a ghost can also detach themselves mentally from their previous existence such that they are no longer confined to the ground (assuming they were confined to the ground in life). In other words, a ghost moves along the ground with its “eyes” at about the same height as they were in life. But after a year, it can learn to move as it wishes, and it can fly at about the same walking speed it had in life.
Invisibility is the natural state of a ghost.
Ghosts that want to be seen must be at least stage 2 and must concentrate as their action to do so. A spirit can attempt this after only one day of being a ghost. However, at stage 3, the ghost’s natural state becomes visibility. Thereafter, the ghost must use an action to switch between visibility and invisibility.
At first, a visible ghost is only barely so: a pair of eyes. A floating face. A disembodied hand. A translucent or shadowy apparition. After about a month, the ghost begins to look like a ghostly version of themselves, if that’s what they want.
A stage 4 ghost can make themselves look so normal and solid that they can pass for the living.
PCs can learn a secret to do the same.
Being heard is different from being seen. A spirit can attempt to be heard almost immediately upon transitioning into a ghostly existence (stage 1), but they must use their action to do so. And at first, it is a barely audible whisper. Usually only one person can hear a ghost at a time until the ghost is much better at making sound. After a few months, their ghostly voice gets louder if they wish it.
Only a ghost at stage 2 or above can intentionally be seen and heard at the same time.
Some people are sensitive and can see and hear ghosts whether the ghosts will it or not. Spells that reveal the invisible usually reveal ghosts as well. Cameras often capture images of ghosts, regardless of intent on the part of the ghost or photographer.
Sometimes, ghosts are seen when they do not intend it. Thanks to the whims and complexities of magic and qualia, a person might hear a ghostly voice or catch a fleeting glimpse of a ghost intending to be invisible. Such an event probably rewards a PC ghost with 1 Despair.
Only through intense concentration can a ghost affect the material world. A ghost must be at least stage 3 to attempt this.
It requires an action to move or manipulate matter, and an NPC ghost can affect matter in an amount described in the Effects by Level table, as their level would indicate. PC ghosts can learn the Ghostly Hand secret to affect matter.
Ghosts can learn to do more than move objects. They can change the temperature of objects, or even disappear an object.
Ghosts at stage 4 can inhabit or possess an object, granting it animation. Vislae typically use the Haunt Object spell to do this.
Ghosts can interfere and interact with aethyric devices, because such devices are interfering and interacting with the medium in which ghosts exist.
Ghosts are visible in an aethyric lamp (which is different from shamlight). They can listen in on telephone conversations and even interrupt and say what they want. Likewise, they can whisper into someone’s radio. They can cause an aethyric device to turn on or off or change the function (radio station, light intensity, and so on) without operating the physical switches.
Aethyric devices always get the attention of ghosts and other spirits just as if they were flashing alarms.
Ectoplasm is spiritual matter given quasi-physical form. It’s aethyr becoming solid or semi-solid. Ectoplasm is most often in the form of viscous liquid—slime, oily residue, or a thick mist that hangs in the air for a few moments. Ghosts can, with extreme effort, extrude ectoplasm into the material world, usually in fairly small quantities. Very rarely, this will happen unintentionally, almost like footprints or the spoor of a ghost.
The uses of ectoplasm, from a ghost’s perspective, are few and rarely worth the effort. Sometimes, though, ectoplasm can be used to prove a ghost’s existence or used in a more practical way, such as leaving residue on an important object or coating a mirror or window and then writing a brief message in it for the living to read.
Most of the time, if a ghost wants to inhabit and control a physical body, their own corpse is the obvious choice. It’s very likely nearby and available.
But ghosts can learn to inhabit any body—basically, animating and “riding” a corpse other than their own. Regardless of the host’s physical form, the ghost retains their own level. Certain bodies might grant bonuses or penalties to certain actions. A giant brute might be particularly strong, for example. A ghost must be at least stage 4 to attempt this. PC ghosts can learn a secret to enable this ability.
Some ghosts can instill irrational fear, feelings of dread, or negativity. A very few can give people positive emotions. Typically, an NPC ghost of stage 3 can manipulate emotions in such a way.
Ghosts of stage 5 (phantoms) can physically manifest, usually taking on the appearance and material form that they bore in life. Those particularly adept at it can change their appearance, shape, and size when they manifest. Manifested ghosts’ bodies are made of pure ectoplasm, but they have certes as well as qualia, and they can be wounded or slain just like any creature.
Ghosts of any stage can tap into and interact with the Noösphere. That might mean searching for information or spying on others looking for the same. They can observe or overhear communication or monetary exchanges, and in some cases (usually for ghosts of level 7 or higher), they can tamper with such transactions.
Ghosts are immune to physical attacks (except those few ensorcelled to specifically affect ghosts).
Spiritual energy and mental attacks can affect them, however. Manifested ghosts can be affected by anything that would affect any other being.
Ghosts lose track of time. Time does not seem to be a constant for them. Without the ghost realizing it, a great deal of time might pass in a blink, or they might become confused and relive things from the past instead of remaining focused on the present.
Ghosts require someone to be aware of them. As intelligent qualia, they suffer if no one is perceiving or thinking of them. Each consecutive sunset that occurs without anyone perceiving or thinking about a ghost since the last sunset puts that ghost at a −1 penalty. Thinking about the person the ghost was before they died counts in this regard. Thus, it’s always in a ghost’s best interest to occasionally rattle a chain, creak a floorboard, or do things to remind others of its previous life.
Ghosts that are “slain” become inert, invisible, and intangible spirits for a year and a day. After this time, some transition to the Pale, but some remain—they’ll never leave of their own volition and must be exorcised.
When a PC dies, the player does not have to stop playing, although there might be a delay before they can take actions (yet the right secret or spell negates even that).
Vislae who die have the opportunity to continue to act, using their inherent magical power to sustain their spiritual form in the material world.
A PC gains 1 Despair immediately upon dying. The player should also reflect on their life’s regrets and successes in the Character Summary for that session.
Eventually, however, most dead vislae need to make a choice. Their first and most obvious choice is to pass into death, in a transition that renders them no longer a ghost, but a resident of the Pale. One of the dead. In this stage, it is difficult (but not impossible) to leave.
Another choice is to return to life. Although this is difficult, most vislae who wish it can revivify with the help of still-living friends.
A third option is to attain a permanent undead status in the form of a wraith (a rogue, unaligned ghost), a corporeal revenant, a magically animated lich, or something similar. This is the most difficult and perhaps the most dangerous choice.
While keeping in mind all of the above information (which applies to PCs and NPCs alike), PC ghosts also have the following modifications:
1. Ghosts have no Certes, only Qualia. Their Certes pools are empty. Likewise, they cannot suffer Wounds, only Anguish. Should a ghost ever take damage that can affect them and would normally apply to Wounds, it applies to Anguish instead.
If a ghost dies (because it suffers all the Anguish it can), it becomes an inert spirit, unable to take any actions at all, for a year and a day.
2. As stated, a vislae ghost’s natural state is one of incorporeality. They cannot affect things physically, and they cannot be affected by physical things. They can pass through solid barriers and objects. They are also invisible and inaudible to non-ghosts.
This means that vislae ghosts cannot use objects. A ghost might look like it’s wearing clothing and carrying items, but this is all just appearance, not reality. If a vislae had a special pair of magical shoes in life, their ghost might appear to be wearing the shoes, but they are not real and confer no special powers. The exception is a vislae’s Testament of Suns or vertula kada, which remains with them no matter what and can be used if it has powers. Other specific objects of power can be carried by a ghost as well, as noted in the item’s description.
3. Vislae ghosts without the Walking in Two Worlds secret don’t truly control whether they are fully visible or audible. A player can state their intention in this regard, but circumstances (like the turning of a new Sooth card) can change things, and ultimately the GM, not the player, decides.
4. Vislae ghosts get only one rest action (one action) each day to restore a stat pool rather than four.
5. A vislae ghost can cast spells and use other magical abilities, but only spells and abilities that do not affect things physically, whether through movement, energy, or matter. Mostly, this means they can use purely mental or spiritual effects. For example, a ghost could use a divination, summon another ghost, change someone’s emotional state, or influence someone’s mind. They cannot heal wounds, move or harm objects or beings, affect the air or weather, create fire, or craft illusions (except purely mental illusions). They cannot cast spells that require them to touch something. Stage 5 vislae ghosts can potentially manifest, giving them the ability to cast any spell, use all their abilities, and use ephemera and objects of power.
Creatures can be returned from the dead through a number of different spells, incantations, and rituals. Those who have died and come back—particularly those who went to the Pale—are always said to come back changed somehow. Some have abilities or memories they didn’t have before. Some have lost abilities or memories.
For PCs, a character who returns from the dead should probably gain at least 2 Acumen from the experience. GMs can require that they spend that Acumen immediately (perhaps in conjunction with Acumen they already have) on a new secret, spell, skill, or other appropriate character aspect that reflects their character being “changed.”
The GM can also take away a single magical practice that the PC knows, but reward them with 1 Despair. The character might also lose one or more conventional memories (at the GM’s discretion). Such characters also lose their quirk and gain a new one.
Rumors speak of vislae who have returned from the dead with a different heart or secret soul (and secret soul name). This is very rare and likely happens only under special circumstances. Characters who return might also have scars, a different hair color, or another physical manifestation of their experience.
Everything with a consciousness has a soul. With very few exceptions, all living beings are conscious and intelligent. In Shadow, people think of animals as not being truly conscious, not being as intelligent as humans, or both. That is Shadow-thinking. All creatures have their own languages, cultures, and unique perspectives.
Although animal intelligence (and thus souls) is not in question, what philosophers in the Actuality debate is: do plants have a soul? Do inanimate objects? Many people have strong feelings about this, but there is no one universally accepted answer.
Sometimes, nonliving things gain souls. This is often because of prolonged exposure to a living being with a soul, but other events—momentous, traumatic, or spiritually significant—can give rise to this as well. The house where a murderer slew children might gain a soul, as might the ring of a powerful vislae. A road trod upon by a god might gain a soul, as might the silver cup used in a very potent invocation.
Although it’s essentially impossible to be conscious and not have a soul, it is possible to have a soul and not be conscious. But it’s rare.
Without a soul, one cannot understand qualia, and without qualia, one cannot cast spells. A soulless being might have magical powers, but those are not spells.
Demons do not have souls. This makes them more like thoughtforms than like people. Is a demon conscious? That is likely up for debate, but many people liken demons to viruses rather than creatures. They resemble life, but they don’t fit its definition.
Technically, yes, but this concern is mostly Shadowthinking yet again. Most human food in the Actuality is not produced using the ways of Shadow.
Meat rarely comes from dead animals. There are few conventional farms or ranches. In Satyrine, what someone calls chicken, for example, is more likely to be harvested by people sifting through the ground along the Qtel River in Indigo with grated pans. Under the Gold Sun, an animal called the threx willingly and gladly trades its beef-like flesh for money or magic. In the Blue, ideas and dreams of food are nutritious and sustaining. Spells in Silver are far more likely to create pork than slaughtering a pig. Often, finished meals are created out of whole cloth (rather than by combining ingredients) through the use of ephemera or longform magic. And so on.
In short, your rack of barbecue ribs probably didn’t come from a dead animal. It likely came from a source far stranger. Just enjoy it. There are far more dire things to spend your time worrying about.
The Path of Suns is not just a map of the Actuality; it is a map of the human soul. As within, so without. Each sun reflects a vital part of human nature. The Silver Sun represents creativity and inspiration. Green is growth and health (and sexual drive). Blue is the soul’s dreams, hopes, and deep concepts. Indigo and Grey are, of course, truth and lies, respectively—sometimes the truth and lies people tell themselves. Pale is decay and degeneration—the soul turning inward. Red is change and sometimes the desire for violence. Gold is regeneration and new beginnings (sometimes even one person changing their mind is a monumental event).
If you dwell on this concept too long (and many have), you may begin to wonder if perhaps existence itself is a living, conscious thing with a soul.
Alternatively, perhaps each human is a universe unto themselves. Or perhaps both are true, in a recursive structure delving infinitely inward as well as out.
We all understand sleep. But like so many things in the Actuality, there’s more to it than one might think. It would be too easy to say that there is a land of dreams that we all visit when we go to bed. No, sleep and dreams are—at least on the surface—what Shadow thinkers believe. That is to say, sleep is a restful state of unconsciousness, and dreams are a by-product of the subconscious mind.
But because there is still a thinking mind involved, a sleeping person remains a part of the Noösphere, and thus connected to other minds. Unconscious, dreaming minds help to create a special part of the Noösphere called the Deeps of Sleep. In this mental realm, memories of dreams and strange, subconscious thoughts form a dark and surreal landscape inaccessible to non-sleepers. Adept sleepers, or those using special spells or other magic, can access the Deeps of Sleep while they dream, but rather than passively experiencing their own subconscious thoughts, they are lucidly aware amid a mélange of all people’s subconscious thoughts.
Humans, elderbrin, and other living creatures are material, obviously. But many beings in the Actuality exist in a very different state. To them, physicality is foreign and strange. It is distant and unrelatable. These spiritual entities look upon emotions and concepts as fundamental aspects of their reality far more than matter or even energy. They are, in a way, pure qualia.
This likely makes them seem very much like ghosts, and that’s not entirely wrong. In fact, it’s mostly right. Like ghosts, spiritual beings exist in the medium of aethyr, not matter, and can pass through solid objects. The main difference is that unlike ghosts, they were never physical creatures. They never experienced the touch of a lover or the smell of fresh baked bread. Nor have they suffered a bleeding wound or a cancerous tumor.
Most of the time, spirits are put into one of four categories: angels, demons, dead spirits, and conceptual spirits. For the most part, dead spirits were covered earlier. The other three categories can be a bit misleading, because in truth all spirits are conceptual. Spirits that embody concepts considered noble are simply called angels, and those more nefarious are classified as demons.
No spirits can affect the physical world or be affected by it. Some beings, however, have the ability to become entirely spiritual or entirely physical, depending on their needs. Most angels and demons, for example, can take physical form. This is a risky enterprise because if destroyed while in physical form, the entity can truly die.
Neither manifesting in physical form nor returning to spiritual form can happen very quickly or under pressure. This is almost never something that a being does in the middle of a crisis situation, like a battle.
Most demons, angels, and other beings have different statistics when they are spiritual than when they are physical.
Possession is when a spirit enters and takes control of a physical creature. It is sometimes called “riding” and sometimes “inhabiting.” In this case, the physical creature is called the host.
Unless specified otherwise, only spirits can possess physical creatures, and only physical creatures can be possessed. A demon possessing an angel, a ghost, or another demon, for example, would require very special circumstances.
A PC possessing an NPC host requires an Intellect-based roll. An NPC possessing a PC host requires a Resist roll. An NPC possessing an NPC host must simply be higher level.
Most of the time, the possessing spirit is in complete control of the host, controlling all its actions, with full command of its abilities, skills, and knowledge (including spells). Sometimes, it takes a spirit a few rounds to fully understand the capabilities of a newly possessed host.
Physical harm that befalls the host does not affect the possessing spirit. A spirit possessing a creature that dies is in a state of shock and unable to act for a round, but after that, it can operate as a spirit once again. If a possessed host suffers a mental attack, the mental damage or effect is suffered by the possessing spirit if it is in control.
Sometimes, a possessing spirit can inhabit a host but remain submerged and hidden within them. In this case, the spirit is along for the ride but can take no actions other than attempt to reestablish control, which is like possessing the host all over again. If a being that can possess a host is manifested in physical form, it must first become spiritual before it can attempt possession.
A possessing spirit can use an action to release control of the host but remain within the body, or it can use an action to vacate entirely. Vacated spirits become spiritual entities next to the host.
“All right,” the commander said. “Let’s talk demons. You know what demons are, right? They’re evil and nasty and they can possess you.”
A few of us nodded.
“Well, yes. All of that is true. But for those of you just out of Shadow, let’s also talk about what they aren’t. They aren’t made from the souls of evil people, and they aren’t God’s torturers meting out justice upon the damned. And they’re not fallen angels.” Seemingly as an afterthought, he added, “There are ‘fallen’ angels, but that’s another topic.”
Demons are, by definition, the worst things in the world. Vile, hateful, spiteful things, they revel in pain and corruption. They bathe in the blood of the innocent and achieve orgasm when they hear screams of torment. There is no act too hideous and vile for them—no atrocity they will not enjoy.
Although not living creatures, demons think and feel. They have goals. They experience pain. But demons do not experience qualia. They are to mortals what viruses are to life—they are empty of the defining spark. Sentient, but not sapient.
The virus analogy is apt. In fact, perhaps demons actually are some form of virus. Who knows? Regardless of terminology, demons are not truly alive, and they exist to feed on living creatures and to replicate.
And this is where it gets complicated.
Demons spawn invisible, insubstantial beings best thought of as larval forms of themselves. If these things are perceived in some way, most people describe them as coiling, roiling worms covered in the slimy spew of the most hideous thing imaginable.
These larval demons are called urgeborn. Urgeborn can mature and grow only within a mortal host. They must possess a creature in order to live. Those that manage to do so grow within their victim until they fully mature, which can take years. The mature demon eventually bursts forth in a material form, killing its host and feeding on its pain.
Demons feed on emotion. Many people believe that they feed only on negative emotions, but that’s not the case. A demon can feed on love as easily as on hate or fear. But hate and fear are often easier emotions to create, particularly for demons. Perhaps even more true is that negative fires are not just easier to stoke, but easier to sustain as well, which is important because when a demon feeds on an emotion, it is consumed.
Consider this: two young lovers find that when they rendezvous, their passion for each other is strong, then fades. Their conversations trip over a wrong word here or an ill-conceived phrase there. The strong emotion that normally overcomes such inevitable shortfalls just isn’t there. Because their trysts are haunted by a lurking third party: a demon feasting on their love.
And this: the Agony Woods in the Red are filled with thorny trees upon which demons impale their victims. The victims are kept alive, fed and tended to just enough so they never die. The demons harvest this pain like a farmer would harvest a field of grain, storing it away and feasting on it at their whim.
Or this: Margerith felt the loss of her twin sister so profoundly that she used magic to force a demon into the shape of a pendant she could wear, and then compelled the demon to consume her grief.
Demons are spiritual creatures, but many can create a physical form, not unlike a thoughtform. However, there is risk involved, for when a demon takes physical form to interact with the material world, they can be hurt and even killed by physical force.
Like elderbrin, demons have fluid forms. Unlike elderbrin, it takes a demon a great deal of time to change forms—sometimes months—but demons have a far wider set of forms to choose from.
Demons can take the forms of knives, clothing, jewelry, tools, furnishings, music, the air, or all the wine in a barrel. Given enough time and power, a demon can take a very large form, such as that of a vehicle or a building. There is at least one demon that has taken the form of an entire bar—the powerful entity known as Zero.
We all want what we do not have. Some demons are no different. The Empty Ones are demons that recognize their lack of sapience, qualia, and souls, and desire them. Such things, for the Empty Ones, are always stolen, borrowed, or bought. Always temporary.
These demons willingly serve mortal conjurers if they can somehow be granted even the brief experience of qualia, but what they truly wish are souls. Someone using magic like the Sacrificial Rite can offer an Empty One a soul, and this is a prize like no other.
A demon with a stolen or offered soul experiences the world like a mortal. It understands and has a conscious awareness that it normally does not possess. It can even cast spells if it knows how. Souls gained this way are eventually consumed. They’re temporary. Thus, demons are always on the lookout for new souls.
There are demons of the Red and demons of the Dark. This is a distinction lost on most people, and for most it is at best an academic differentiation. But they exemplify their realm at least a bit, so demons of the Red spend their energy on violent change while those of the Dark are more interested in the corruption of mortals and the mortal world (including the suns themselves).
Organization and hierarchy usually do not come naturally to either, particularly not those of the Red, which are focused so clearly on destruction and change. However, powerful demons enslave and conscript lessers into serving them as soldiers, servants, and lackeys.
Some of the Red multitudes have organized themselves like military legions, each led by a commander who has absolute authority and a hierarchy of subcommanders. The actual titles change like fashion and fad, but currently the commanders are called “marquis” or “marchioness,” and those below them are “counts” or “countesses.” Gender is in fashion for demons currently, but this is not always the case. The various marquis and marchionesses refer to a singular “Duke” that they all serve, but no one ever names him. If there actually is a “Duke of Demons,” his existence is an extremely well-kept secret.
Demons of the Dark do not organize themselves into these legions. Instead, their demonic lords claim a title referring to something they hate or war against, such as “The Enemy of Sleep,” or “The Enemy of Reason.” Definition by what one opposes, rather than what one supports, is very appropriate for the Dark. Each such genderless lord has a number of servants, and each looks precisely like their lord. So, to all appearances, there is not one Enemy of Sleep, but a multitude. However, in practice, one lord—the original claimant of the title—rules over the rest, wielding power far beyond that of the others.
The known demon lords include the following:
The Enemy of Sleep
The Enemy of Reason
The Enemy of Peace
The Enemy of Choice
The Enemy of Time
The Enemy of Space
The Enemy of Prudence
The Enemy of Compassion
The Enemy of Forgiveness
The Enemy of Strength
The Enemy of Health
The Enemy of Youth
The Enemy of Truth
As with demons of the Red, there are demons of the Dark that are independent and do not conform to these hierarchies.
Red demons have a sort of code of ethics. If a vislae makes a deal with a Red demon and holds up their part, the demon will do the same. A vislae under the protection or guidance of a demon of the Red has a powerful and true ally. They are cruel and merciless, to be sure—veritable engines of destruction, by definition—that delight in pain and suffering. But they are cruel to and inflict pain upon their enemies. And though they might consider most beings to be their enemies, a Goetic, for example, could make a pact with a demon of the Red and not be treated as one.
Demons of the Dark, however, ultimately want nothing that is good or true. Allies are betrayed as soon as possible. Agreements are broken (if possible). Devouring the entrails of an innocent or one who believed they were a friend is more pleasurable to a Dark demon than doing so to a foe. They are corrupt, hateful, and malicious for their own sake.
“All the luminaries of heaven stand wingtip to wingtip, wondering how long they must endure the bonds of space and the tortures of time.”
—Tolfit Nulth, The Sullen Angel
Angels are far less numerous than demons. They’re also, generally speaking, less complicated. The angelic hosts live in greatest numbers under the Silver Sun, but they are not native to Silver. They’re not native to anywhere—they’re aspects of the Legacy, left in the universe by the Absolute to watch over creation.
Although they can be in spiritual or material form, angels do not have fluid forms like demons. They always look the same (although a few are good at disguise). However, there are many types of angels, and thus they come in many forms. Many have the appearance of beautiful humans, while others take on the aspects of animals like bears, lions, stags, eagles, and so on, usually retaining a mostly humanoid shape. One common feature is wings, but there are angels without wings.
Angels often place great value on honor, benevolence, and justice. But these philosophies take many forms. Some angels pledge to protect humanity from darkness and injustice. Others wish to change and redeem humanity. Still others steer well clear of humanity altogether.
Angels are not perfect. They fall victim to temptation and sometimes let their emotions get the best of them. Unfortunately for them, while angels can be judgmental in any case, they judge their own kind most harshly of all.
Most angels avoid gods and other spirits, sticking with their own kind. There are nations of angels and hierarchies within them. A few dwell among humanity, but they are exceptions.
It’s possible for an angel to possess a living mortal, but it’s very rare.
Is it true that everything is alive and has intelligence? We can talk all day about rocks and trees and glasses of beer, but what about concepts? What about love, life, want, or laziness? What about winter, sleep, or the idea of cities? These things could be alive as well, with the very concepts invested in spiritual form. Unlike demons and angels, conceptual spirits rarely have material forms. Like demons, they can and do possess living creatures from time to time, usually to exemplify their nature briefly and then vacating.
Their varieties are numberless. Conceptual spirits include the “nature spirits” of the Green, the living dreams of Blue, and the spirits of destruction and decay of the Red. They are far more likely to be lone individuals than part of any hierarchy, and they almost never associate for long with mortals.
Goetics often say that these miscellaneous spirits are far harder to deal with, communicate with, and relate to than angels or even demons. Their motivations and outlook are as alien as can be imagined (more, actually).
There are exceptions, of course, to all these rules. Some conceptual spirits aren’t spirits at all—not only do they have material form, but that might be the only form they have. For example, there’s what looks to be a man wandering around Satyrine who is Monday. He’s not a spirit. He might be a spirit possessing a man, but that’s not what he claims to be. And he seems like a decent, down-to-earth fellow to boot.
“God” is an ill-defined term with many possible meanings that are not necessarily contradictory. Gods are powerful spirits. Gods are mortals who have achieved immortality. Gods are mighty beings for which we have no other name.
Thus, “god” has no strict definition. A god might be a potent conceptual spirit with no physical form, a powerful and muscular human specimen, or a hideous monstrosity the size of a house with tentacles and a dozen one-eyed heads. Gods are always at least level 14, since 13 represents the very end of mortality.
The distinction between God and gods is a glistening gem of a concept. Interesting to examine, but perhaps fruitless in a practical sense. The latter—lowercase g—are beings of incredible power. The former—capital G—set all things, including the gods, in motion. Perhaps God is to a god as that god is to a mortal.
But most likely, the distance between God and god is far greater than that.
A few gods that are well known throughout the Actuality include the following.
Derrahe, the Great Observer: “He who sits upon the Mountain of Creation and keeps it from flying apart with his eight-angled gaze.” Resides mainly in the realm of the Silver Sun.
Ishtoblin: “The blessing of the unblessed.” Wanders throughout various markets appearing as an innocuous, plump woman of advanced years. Randomly curses and steals from wealthy merchants and customers, and bestows blessings on those less fortunate.
Lopish’s Sword: When the great goddess Lopish was slain at the Battle of Terrington Tower, a portion of her essence entered her 9-foot (3 m) long sword. Today Lopish’s Sword is a goddess of just vengeance.
Nyvren: Genderless being of utter madness and chaos. Said to dwell within the heart of the Kaleidoscope Void, where the colors of all suns mingle.
Rhol, the Left-Handed God: A Dark god of knowledge and secrets. His followers deny that he is evil. They praise him for his selfish hoarding of knowledge and justify his cruelty.
Sister Death: A personification of death to be revered. Get in her good graces and death will go easier on you. She’s not related to the Pale, because she’s the personification of death (the transition), not the dead.
Ul-errlk[rest of name unpronounceable]: An incomprehensibly vast being of amorphous shape and unknowable intelligence that dwells in the Dark.
Viniatha: “Keeper of the Vast Lens of Expansive Comprehension.” Goddess of understanding, learning, and prophecy. Dwells in the Blue.
We don’t use the term “race” much, and “species” is all wrong. So let’s just say that there are many peoples in the Actuality, and humans are one of them. Humans are prevalent and dominant, but that’s likely because no one else cares to be.
Humans don’t need much explanation. Unless something very strange has happened, everyone reading this paragraph is a human and understands what a human is.
Humans are the one thing that Shadow doesn’t alter much in its illusion. In appearance (unless altered by magic) and by outlook, personality, and deed, humans are exactly what you already understand them to be.
For good or ill.
Living amid humanity are the elderbrin. The capricious elderbrin treat shape like fashion, changing it to suit their mood. They possess many other capabilities, but most involve how they relate to each other. Sometimes referred to as “feylike,” the real truth is that their exact nature is mysterious. That’s because the elderbrin form is fluid—they have no true appearance.
Or rather, their ever-changing form is their true appearance. Although they can speak any language that humans speak, elderbrin also communicate through form. Different facial and body types carry different meanings to the elderbrin and to the handful of humans who can understand them.
Compared to humans, elderbrin are sometimes considered a bit scattered in their thoughts and fickle in their choices. These are examples of how elderbrin thought processes are a bit different—or more than a bit different.
The essence of that difference can be summed up as this: humans seek to alter the world around them. They’re smart enough to figure out how to accomplish such things, and how to make tools to help. Elderbrin don’t lack that intelligence, but they lack the drive. They don’t usually seek to interfere with anything that doesn’t involve their own wellbeing.
An elderbrin group would defend themselves against a predator, but they wouldn’t chop down a grove of trees to build a wall to keep predators out.
Elderbrin are attuned to a bloodline-centric, mystical communication web that allows them to exchange information at a distance with their families (and elderbrin families are large). Most call these feylines. Feylines seem, at first blush, to be similar to the Noösphere, but in truth they are more immediate and more personal.
Despite their natural magical abilities, elderbrin do not excel at traditional spellcasting. Elderbrin vislae are vanishingly rare.
Elderbrin organize themselves by clan or family, though “organization” by human standards is not much of a priority to them. The highest-ranking elderbrin is the Exalt, who is not unlike the grandparent of all elderbrin from every family.
The lacuna are an absence, not a presence. They appear to be vaguely human-shaped holes in reality. And the holes lead to somewhere else—always of the lacuna’s choosing.
Lacuna are physical, mortal beings, not spirits. They speak, they eat, they use tools. They feel emotion, they feel pain, they sleep. They do anything that other people do. But at any time, they can use the absence within them to send something far away or bring something far away to themselves. The lacuna are living doorways leading to whatever place they desire.
With a single action, a lacuna can lead to any location it knows of. Objects can pass through the lacuna to the new location, and can pass through from that location as well, although the lacuna cannot reach into itself to draw them out. Instead, careful positioning can allow something to fall out of the lacuna.
Lacuna have other tricks as well, such as having the doorway lead to the middle of a raging fire so that the flames burst out. Of course, the lacuna has to make sure it doesn’t injure itself when it does this kind of thing.
It should go without saying, but a lacuna cannot travel through itself. Perhaps less intuitive but just as true, no lacuna can travel through another.
It’s difficult for humans to relate to lacuna because they have no facial expressions to read.
They seem unbelievably other. And yet, their personalities, outlooks, and goals are actually very human even though most people refuse to believe this. Still, lacuna have no aptitude for conventional magical practices. They are never vislae.
Most lacuna live in their own communities, far from anyone else, but a few live among humans and elderbrin, particularly in (but not limited to) Satyrine.
Some people believe that the lacuna were once human, but they were blessed, cursed, or otherwise transformed by a spell or fundamentally profound act, depending on which version of the story you hear and what your opinion of lacuna are.
Rarely, when referring to “people,” one might include the dead that dwell in the Pale or elsewhere, the various ranks of demonkind, or even stranger folk. Many of these beings come from the halfworlds or the Feyward Lands beyond Satyrine.
These include four-armed drune; the flaming, avian kellidos; tall, graceful and telepathic secramal dancers; the universally abhorrent cavarani; insectlike skalopedes; bestial vugs; and more.
“You can understand so much about a place by looking at the diseases and afflictions that plague it.”
—Rajimal, 6th-degree Vance
In addition to various diseases and maladies that most people in Shadow are familiar with, there are stranger (and possibly worse) diseases and viruses in the Actuality that can cause all sorts of woe.
Mirrors are a virus that has infected reality. Reflective surfaces are one thing, but true mirrors seek to replicate and spread so that they can reflect more and more. Once they have reflected everything that exists, they will invert reality and theirs will become the true universe, and we will be naught but a reflection.
People think that they buy mirrors and hang them on their walls, and sometimes that’s true. Other times, though, a mirror will just suddenly worm its way into a house. It matches the decor, but no one remembers putting it up.
Smart people—those in the know—smash every mirror that they see. It’s a service to reality. This is not a virus that a person or anything else can contract. Our entire reality already has it, and there’s little we can do to cure it.
The mirrors have begun fighting back, though. Sometimes those in the know about the mirror virus disappear mysteriously when alone in a room with a mirror.
Spidering can happen to anything. A book. A cat. A table. A house. Suddenly, and without warning, it sprouts eight spidery legs that match its size and begins to move around like a spider. It retains its level, but it now is interested in hunting like a wolf spider. It develops an arachnid mouth and a venomous bite. Spidering can be terrifying and dangerous.
Spidering is very contagious. Once one object in a house is infected, another will be. And another. And then the inhabitants. And then the whole house itself.
No one knows what causes spidering.
When a vislae casts a spell (not some other kind of magical practice or a forte ability), the energy unleashed does not create the desired effect. Instead, it becomes a visible, tangible set of almost tentacular bonds that wrap around the caster and constrict, inflicting damage equal to the original spell’s level. This virus is highly contagious, although only vislae can manifest any symptoms.
Nons are only carriers.
Houses and buildings sicken and rot. They form bleeding lesions and cancerous sores as if they were made of flesh.
It’s commonly called house cancer, but formally it’s been deemed the architectural virus. Over the course of a few weeks, even a huge stone structure can be brought crashing down as its very foundation rots away.
People cannot be infected in any way with this virus, but it still can cause all manner of woe. Laws in Satyrine demand that any building thought to have house cancer be burned immediately so it does not spread to the surrounding structures.
Those in the know can create a thoughtform that looks like a dog, a bird, or a person, just to name a few things. Some, however, can create tiny thoughtforms that function exactly like viruses. These artificial diseases and infections seem very much like standard maladies, but they are usually far more virulent and immune to standard medicines and treatments.
Confused with viral thoughtforms, thoughtform viruses are diseases that a thoughtform can catch. Similar to the architectural virus, this disease manifests by rotting the flesh of something that has no flesh at all.
An infected thoughtform often reacts as would a living creature who is ill. They weaken, become thin and jaundiced, and eventually die. In this case, a “dead” thoughtform simply disappears forever.
No one knows when it started. But for as long as anyone can remember, trees have maintained a defense against lumbering and fires. Those who cause widespread harm to trees develop the xyloid plague.
This affliction causes wooden tumors to sprout from the offender like thick branches. A victim will appear to have a tree growing out of their shoulder, their neck, their back, or the back of their head. At first, this will just seem like odd skin blemishes, and then twigs. Maybe a leaf. Eventually, the woody tumors take such hold that the victim’s limbs become useless. Roots spread down into the ground. The victim becomes a tree.
The branches and roots can be cut away, but doing so inflicts 1 point of damage on the victim for each tumor. And the woody growths always sprout back again.
Perhaps worst of all, the xyloid plague is highly contagious. If an infected woodsman returns from the forest, soon his whole family is afflicted. Eventually, his whole village might become a grove of new trees.
We are our memories. The Forgetting destroys who we are. This virus makes people forget names, directions, appointments, and so on. At first. As the disease progresses, a victim forgets their mother’s face. Their own name. Eventually, they forget fundamental things like that they can’t fly, that fire burns, or that they need to breathe. The Forgetting is always eventually fatal, sometimes dramatically so.
Keyfalls aren’t really a virus. They’re more a very strange kind of weather (and there are many kinds of strange weather). We can’t catalog every strange thing that has happened or might happen in the Actuality, but it’s worth talking about keyfalls at least a bit.
Every once in a while, a storm will blow across Indigo (keyfalls have been known to happen elsewhere, but they’re fifty times more common in Indigo). The storm will bring rain and wind and even hail. And the rarest of these storms will bring a rain of keys that lasts for a minute or two.
The keys clatter down onto the ground, but they are rarely damaged despite supposedly falling such a long way. Every key is different, and sometimes they work in locks they really shouldn’t. A bank vault or a gerent’s back door might open with a key that just fell from the sky. No one knows how.
Far more significant, however, are the wicked keys that fall among the other keys. Vislae can spot a wicked key from a fair distance, easily distinguishing it from mundane keys. Keyfalls are rare, and a typical keyfall has only a handful of wicked keys, if that. Even more rare, other magical keys like the Key of Faces or the Key of Elasticity might appear in a keyfall as well.