At the moment, the only mana coming through were the familiar blue threads of Soul, which split into two separate streams as soon as they exited the conduit. The threads of the first stream were headed outside — they were the mana I supplied to my minions to keep them animated. The threads of the second stream coalesced and wove themselves into a working right beneath my point of view — it was the spell I was currently using to glimpse into the soul world.
The Soul thread, as it exited the conduit, had a smooth texture and was evenly wide across its length. I would use it as a benchmark.
I drew on small amounts of all the five other types of mana, without weaving them into any spell — they would dissipate naturally after a few minutes, but for the time being, I only needed to compare them.
The violet thread of Mind was similar to the one of Soul, which was expected given the two were my specialties. Force, Matter, and Fate had a couple of snags and places where they were thinner or thicker, but were still fairly solid. Fate looked almost frayed in some places. I would need to practice with them more.
Dimension was another story entirely. Based on the others, I was expecting it to be ruinously frayed or something along that line, but the reality was surprising.
The thread of Dimension was jagged.
We called them threads because when we wove them into spells, they behaved like yarn would in the real world. But my Dimension thread was full of zig-zags, as if it were a metal wire that had been folded repeatedly. It still had the same snags and frays as the other threads, but the whole shape was wrong.
With mana like this, it was no wonder I couldn't weave anything stable.
I followed the thread back into the conduit, in an attempt to see where it was being bent. Now, the Soul magic I was using allowed me to look anywhere inside my soul, but the conduit was partially located in Unreality. I moved more mana into my spell, forcing its boundaries to widen. It was interesting to see the Soul thread widen before my eyes as I did so.
With the spell briefly empowered, I dove inside the conduit and followed the thread of Dimension mana almost all the way to the rift to Unreality. I caught a glimpse through the rift — and then almost wished I hadn't, as my headache intensified and I was hit with a wave of nausea.
Refocusing, I once again concentrated on the thread of mana following its wiry form until I finally saw it.
There was a construct there, so tiny that you'd miss it if you didn't know what to look for. Like the well, it was made of Origin mana, and its purpose was clear — it was altering my Dimension mana to make it unusable. But why?
That someone had intruded on — and tampered with! — my very soul filled me with rage. I saw red as I drew on all the mana I could, aspects be damned, and blasted the thing with the intent to destroy. After a few seconds of destructive onslaught, I was completely spent, my will feeling as if it had been through a wringer. And the damned thing was barely worse for the wear.
It occurred to me that I had been an idiot. The construct didn't need to be destroyed. A closer look allowed me to see how it didn't have any kind of anchor — it just floated there, poised to alter any Dimension mana that passed through its aperture. I couldn't alter or destroy it, because Origin mana was on an entirely higher level, but nothing was stopping me from just moving the thing.
And so I did. With a careful weave of Soul and Force, I nudged the thing out of the conduit and into my soul proper, where I just deposited it into a corner where it would likely not affect anything.
With the blasted thing out of the way, I channeled Dimension mana again. It was an ugly, lumpy string that seemed a touch away from falling apart, but already I could feel how much more malleable it was.
With trepidation, I returned to my body and gingerly touched the thread with an effort of will. Carefully, I weaved it in the same pattern I was taught at the academy, the same pattern that I always blew up no matter how well I thought I executed it.
I stood there with the finished weave floating around me, just waiting for my will to activate. This would be the point where it either worked or it went up in flames.
An effort of will on my part, and then I was standing about half a meter ahead of where I had been.
It worked! It was the easiest Dimension spell ever created, derisively called the Poor Man's Blink because of its tiny range, but right now, for me, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. I had long given up hope on ever learning even the basics of Dimension magic, and even with my newfound resolve I had fully expected to fail, but now I'd proven that I could do it.
And my previous inability hadn't even been my fault.
That construct had been placed there deliberately, there was no explanation otherwise. And again, I returned to the same question. Why?
My inability to wield Dimension mana had been with me from the start, so the construct must have been added before I joined the Academy. But why would anyone bother to cripple a random kid's magic? Was I wrong, and could it have been a natural side effect of my conduit opening?
And this was already my second soul construct discovery in the same week. Between the shackles and the soul well, and the device in my conduit, I was beginning to think that soul tampering was more common than I had believed.
It could have been a coincidence. Strictly speaking, it was the likeliest option. But I wasn't ready to let the matter of souls rest without a proper investigation. I needed to investigate more souls, but at the same time, "Dark Lord looking for volunteers for Soul experiments" did not look like a course likely to bring anyone forward.
I was afraid I would have to resort to less savory means, and I was worried about the consequences of going down a darker path. I still believed I held the moral high ground over the gods who had so unfairly branded me a sinner, but that would go down the drain if I truly became the thing they claimed I already was.
But I didn't need to make this choice right now. I still had time, and there still were other options to consider.
A mental query to one of my wight guards informed me that I had spent the better part of four days in my silent meditation. That was always the risk with gazing inside a soul; time behaved very differently there.
I started in the direction of my tower, my poor mood washed away by the glee of Blinking all over the place as I made my way home.