Dagger Magic

Poised on the threshold of an interior calm, he tilted his hand so that the ring caught the flickering light of the candle. Bending his gaze on the pure, cerulean depths of the stone, he closed his mind to the distractions of the waking world and turned inward in trance to confront the subtler realities of the Inner Planes.

At the heart of the Inner Planes lay the Akashic Records, the imperishable chronicle of all lives for all times. Like the mystical rose of Dante's Paradiso, the Records were eternal and ever-unfolding, the living mirror of all creation. Somewhere among that infinite array of archive chambers would be preserved the records belonging to the woman in the photograph. Using her physical likeness as a focus, Adam hoped to gain access to the psychic identity that went with it.

His body shed its weight. No longer fettered to his chair, he allowed himself to float free. An opalescent shimmer filled his mind's eye. Into the midst of that luminous field of inner vision he projected the mental image of the woman he was seeking, simultaneously uttering the Word of power that would enable him to pass through the portals to the Akashic vaults.

There was a sudden blinding flash, as of an actinic flare. The image before him was abruptly polarized, reverting in the wink of an eye to its photographic negative. Fluid tinctures of light washed over it like ripples of water in a pail. Bathed in that light, the woman's image began to re-emerge with the progressive clarity of a developing photographic print.

The scene that took shape around her was no longer that of a still photo. Invested now with life and movement, she was strolling along a grassy embankment at the side of an open stretch of road. Beside her, holding her hand tucked fondly through the crook of his arm, was a pleasant-faced young man. The sky overhead was dark, but the three-quarter moon hovering above their heads shed sufficient light for Adam to make out that the couple were laughing and talking as they walked along. Though he could not hear what they were saying, it was plain from the looks exchanged between them that they were very much in love.

A flaring set of headlamps appeared in the distance. The dual points of light converged along the road with a swiftness that proclaimed a dangerous turn of speed. The young couple checked in their tracks as the onrushing glare erupted into sudden blinding radiance. The man made a desperate, valiant attempt to shove the woman out of the way as the speeding car rocketed off the tarmac and hurtled straight for them.

The scene exploded, reverberating with her scream. Caught by the backlash, Adam instinctively flung up a hand to shield his eyes from a blustering whirlwind of flying shards. The ensuing darkness seethed with colored splinters. Even as Adam struggled to regain his bearings, the darkness collapsed upon itself and burst into flames.

Fierce as burning phosphorus, the fire roared up like a curtain. The ensuing wave of heat bore Adam backwards. An archway loomed above him, half-wreathed in curling smoke. Breathless and half-blinded, he tumbled through the gap and fetched up short against a stone wall.

The wall was cool and smooth beneath his outflung hands. More than a little shaken, he drew himself up and looked around. The marble corridor in which he found himself stretched away from him in both directions until it lost itself in a maze of turnings and distances. Those selfsame intimations of infinity told him he was now inside the halls of the Akashic Records.

The air near at hand was full of hissing and crackling, like the venomous mouthings of a giant salamander. Pivoting toward the sound, Adam found himself confronting an open doorway on the opposite side of the corridor. Tongues of fire were lashing furiously about the inner edges of the door frame. Looking beyond the archway, he saw that the whole of the chamber beyond was in flames.

A melodious voice spoke to Adam's back.

What signs of the chase do you follow, Master of the Hunt! it asked.

Hearing that voice, Adam experienced a thrill of recognition. Turning, he was not surprised to see a prismatic column of dancing light materialize out of thin air before him. The presence embodied in that light belonged to one Adam knew as the Master, an entity sufficiently evolved and perfected so as to no longer need the physical vehicle of human incarnation. Adam bowed low in respect and reverence before venturing to speak.

I am following the trail of a troubled spirit, in the hope that if I find it, I may give it peace.

Peace for such a one is never given; it is only found, the Master said. The soul you are seeking still has far to go to find that peace.