Published at 16th of May 2026 6:50 am

Chapter 173. To die or not to die

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Ophelia was now taking on cases of her own, leaving me to deal with the many things I put off for later. And one such case was on my list for the morning.

I arrived at the small house where Peter was staying. Entering it, I went straight down to the basement, where the tub of soul-numbing solution previously stood.

The room was much cozier than I remembered. The hospital bed was replaced by a normal one. Some shelves had made their way downstairs as well, and I could see photos of Peter with friends, as well as photos of his mother placed on the furniture. Any pictures of his father were missing entirely.

After giving the room a once-over, I brought my gaze to the people sitting on the bed. They were Peter, his mother, and Andy, Peter’s boyfriend from the town.

All three looked exhausted—not physically, but the mental pain showed on their faces. Their eyes were tired, with bags under them, and lacked some of their usual liveliness. What worried me slightly was the uncertainty mixed in with the exhaustion.

I greeted them and pulled up a chair, waiting for one of them to broach the subject.

“So, um, Mr. Alhazred, if I’m correct,” the mother started.

“Sam is enough.”

“Sam then,” she corrected. “I was made aware of my son’s particular condition.” She spoke slowly, trying to choose her words. “And it’s... It’s hard to get a grasp on what exactly is going on... with him.” She added the last part as her voice became slightly teary. “From what I understand, he is in a lot of pain that doctors can’t do anything about.”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

If I had to guess from Peter's facial expression, his clenched jaw, and his hand crushing Andy’s hand, he was currently in that pain and had been for some time.

“So I believe the euthanasia you proposed is out of the question—” a note of anger entered her voice, but she was cut off by Peter.

“It’s my decision,” the boy barked.

“It’s a horrible decision,” the mother answered immediately, before turning back to me. “You can help him, right? You offered to cure his condition. The thing... the thing with the souls, right?”

“It’s not certain,” I said, which made the woman angry.

“Well, how certain can it be? If you had to guess, the chance is better than no chance. Tell him,” she said.

I sighed lightly, picking my words before answering. “Look, let me be clear on the choice before your son. I’m not sure I can cure him, and if I do, I’m not sure how the process will affect him.”

The three frowned at my words.

“The issue is that the soul lacks matching flesh, so while I won’t return him to that mutation, a change of ‘shape’ might be required. Before you ask what I mean,” I said, extending my hand before she could cut me off, “I don’t know. I've never seen a case like this, and my knowledge is limited. But... I need you to understand that getting rid of the pain isn’t what I really offer.”

Their frowns deepened at my words as I turned to Peter.

“What I offer is a new life. Your life will change, and there will be no coming back from it.”

“What change?” Peter asked.

“Life in the world of mages. An interesting and dangerous one, but most of all... life free of judgment.” I saw him twitch at my words. Q’Shar suggested that line might work, and I was surprised at the change in his face. “Trust me, whatever your form or past life, you won’t get any judging looks from my associates or me. To get those, you’d have to do some really fucked-up shit. Trust me,” I said with a light chuckle, and then corrected myself, seeing the disbelief on the faces of my audience. “You will most likely have to risk your soul and suffer rituals and experiments before we get you fixed.” I paused for a second. “Or if you ever feel you can’t continue, if we can’t find a cure... then if you so choose... I’ll kill you myself,” I said, meeting Peter’s eyes.

“What?!” the mother shouted.

I could also see that Andy was stunned as he looked at me with wide eyes. But I kept my eyes on Peter’s.

“Will you? Really?” he asked, holding my gaze.

“Peter!” his mother turned to her son.

“I swear on the name Alhazred.”

We looked each other in the eyes. I held his gaze as he searched for something in my eyes, hesitation or falsehood, but there was none. I never swore in the clan’s name for nothing.

He finally looked to Andy at his side. The other boy looked confused and frightened by the whole conversation. I was curious how much he even knew.

“I...” Peter stammered. “I can’t stand the pain. I want it gone.” He spoke slowly, as if fighting to say each word. “But… if you truly mean what you say, then I’ll suffer for a bit more,” he finished.

His mother sat in the middle, unsure of what to do. The whole talk was clearly a horrible experience for the woman, but at the same time, Peter’s choice visibly eased her tension. Peter sat there looking up with an unfocused gaze, as if already regretting the decision he had made. Yet there was determination in his aura, like looking at a man stumbling his way through a snowstorm, lost and in pain, yet putting one foot in front of the other.

I gave them some time before speaking.

“Good choice,” I broke into their hugging session. “I imagine you are ready to start as soon as possible.” I got a nod in return. “Good. You will be moved to an apartment closer to my workplace. I will devise a training plan for you as well as start your lessons as soon as possible.”

“Lessons? Training?” Peter frowned.

“You think I’ll just run around performing magic on you? If you want permanent change, you’ll need to work for it. We’ll need to get you in control of your soul first, test your sensitivity to magic, check your aptitude for the magic the people you’re made up of had—” I started reciting points, ready to go through my experimentation plan.

“I would like to accompany my son—” the woman began.

“No,” I cut her off. “You can’t be let in on what he is learning. He will have to sign a cryptograph as well. But you can’t know the techniques. Such is the law.”

“I won’t say anything.”

“And you won’t give them away under possession or torture?” I asked.

I could see them widen their eyes as understanding of the implications dawned on the three.

“Welcome to the world of the arcane,” I said with a smile.

***

Peter moved soon after the talk. The cats got him a small apartment near Ophelia and me. As for what I devised for his lesson plan, it was... an original idea. I initially thought about starting him on the basics and then getting to magic and souls later, trying to figure out which mage archetype he fit into. But looking at him that morning made me realize the idea of him pushing through the pain for slow progress was wishful, if not simply foolish.

So instead, Peter’s lessons would focus first and foremost on soul arts, a crash course in performing astral projection. Performing the skill without the know-how was very dangerous, but at the same time, I didn’t have the time to explain everything to him. Once he projected, he should be able to remain outside his body for some time without pain before his soul started dissipating. And if I could do something later to slow down that process... but that was for the future. For now, I started Peter on meditation and a crash course in souls.

The weeks passed, slowly merging into a constant stream as I gathered the resources and people for the ritual while instructing my apprentice and test subject.

Before I knew it, it was two days until Halloween. Instead of instructing the younger generation like the great master I was, I was instructing Myhur instead. The mushroom man was currently carrying a massive black stone, the base for the obelisk I would use on Halloween.

“To the left,” I said as the mycanoid struggled with the big stone. “More to the left, and moooore.”

“Whyyy do you need it to the left? You have the space for half a forest’s worth of people.”

“It’s not about the space. It’s about where they will stand. Look, you chain guys to the obelisk on all sides. You walk around slitting their throats. What do you think happens?”

“Weeeell, let me think. Hmmmmmm. They die,” he said, dropping the block of stone.

“Noooo,” I bellowed out. “They bleed first, and they bleed forward, so anyone standing near the sides needs way more space or they end up covered in blood. Turn the stone so the sides don’t face the columns.”

The mushroom looked at me flatly. “Caaaan’t you get them raincoats?”

“No. What kind of ritual doesn’t have robes and masks?” I asked with an expression of utter disgust at his awfully modern, logical solution.

Although it was also true that the atmosphere of the place as well as the mood of the people participating would matter a lot for the mana and its flow. My thoughts were broken by the sound of stone grinding against stone as the mushroom rotated the piece.

I winced at the sound.

“Haaappy now?” he asked.

“Hmmm, now the side facing me is kinda ugly. If you could rotate it by 180 degrees…”

“Goooo rot on a bare rock,” the mushroom threw out and went to carry in another block.

“Words can hurt, you know?” I said with fake offense and looked around.

We were currently in an old industrial building. The ritual required a lot of space as well as proximity to a mana vein. Sadly, main pathways didn’t connect yet, so my land wasn’t an option. Instead, the cats found this burned factory building. It was abandoned, as the land was disputed, left to its own devices. The place was away from the city, but well connected thanks to what it was once used for. All we needed was to pay off a few people, pretending we were organizing a private Halloween party.

I looked around the metal beams and blackened walls. An atmosphere like that would add to the mana attunement, but it still needed to feel closer to death.

The creature I picked to help with the mansion construction was an actual demon, as people usually described them. A creature of Lucifer, one of the powerful higher demons. Not of royal lineage, but on the stronger side, near the top of the third circle. The plan was to commission some workers through it. It was a being of domination and control, so it should have some servants that could do the job.

But with concepts like those, the attunement of mana would have to be on the darker, bloodier side, overbearing and strong.

“So some chains here, some blood there, a few skulls,” I said, pointing to the corners. “What do you think?” I asked Myhur as he struggled with the next part of the obelisk.

“Iiii think you have awful taste. Shouldn’t you start carving the circle since we have the center?”

“Why do you think we have the center? I might need this moved,” I said, pointing to the construction in the middle.

“Yooou think I can’t land a hit on you just because you survived a singularity?”

I smiled at the jealousy in his deep voice.

“Sure, sure. Put it there, I’ll start on the carving,” I said and began the last of the preparations.

The actual ritual would have over fifty participants, all mages, most freshly ascended second-circle mages from the allied clans and organizations, double and triple checked by Q’Shar. I would be the master of ceremonies, with help from a few sirens to lead the chanting. I also had a familiar to introduce to everyone, taking the opportunity.

It was all coming together nicely. Now I just needed the living offerings transported and the harvested souls prepared, and we could start the Halloween party.

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