"This is the story of your birth, Salomon." The Ancient One gently ruffled the curly, fluffy hair of the five-year-old boy. She had always been quite pleased with Salomon's behavior—unlike most children his age, he never threw tantrums or acted unpredictably. Instead, he always seemed deep in thought.
This didn't surprise the Ancient One. After all, Salomon's birth was orchestrated by the heavens, even if she had intercepted him midway. His uniqueness was bound to manifest, like how he possessed a trace of magic without forming a contract with Vishanti. This ability revealed itself when he was five, around the turn of the millennium, and it even caused a bit of trouble.
Magicians who cast spells using their own innate magic weren't unheard of on Earth. In theory, any ordinary person could refine magic from their life force using the correct methods. In the West, this energy was called "magic," while in the East, it was known as "qi." Regardless of the name, it served as the fuel for magic. However, those who refined their life force for magic were generally weak—except for a few exceptionally gifted occultists, most were self-taught and lacked true mastery.
On the other hand, those born with magic always had unique identities, often linked to extradimensional entities. This worried many of Kamar-Taj's sorcerers, who sought the Ancient One's guidance. They feared that Salomon's magical source might influence the seemingly innocent child.
"He simply has more life force," the Ancient One explained, pulling Salomon—who was daydreaming—closer. She opened his small palm, revealing sacred marks that could only be seen with special vision. "Magic is an energy that exists within all life. Because he was born a saint, his body has been strengthened by positive energy, granting him an abundance of life force.
"His excessive life force is automatically converted into magic by the sacred marks. His magic is merely an extension of his life force—it has no connection to any external dimensions.
"That's why Salomon could cast spells even before forming a contract with Vishanti. Moreover, his body possesses greater strength and heightened senses compared to ordinary people."
What the Ancient One didn't reveal, however, was that the sacred marks carried other implications—secrets that she saw no need to share with the other students.
Salomon's clothing stood out from the other Kamar-Taj apprentices. His robes were made from deep crimson holy relic cloth, personally crafted by the Ancient One to suppress the sacred marks on his hands. Once he wore the robe, ordinary people could no longer perceive the marks.
"Is it Heaven? Or does it come from Vishanti?" a student asked.
"No, it's simply the Positive Energy Plane—not Heaven, nor Vishanti," the Ancient One clarified. "The magic we harness is also positive energy, just like Mount Heaven. There's no fundamental difference. If his body were infused with negative energy—black magic—then trust me, he wouldn't be so… chubby."
Salomon Damonette puffed up his cheeks in protest. He insisted that his round face was just baby fat. A few of the female apprentices couldn't resist pinching his plump, rosy cheeks.
For years, the Ancient One had worked to diminish Kamar-Taj's reverence for Vishanti. Though Vishanti was the patron of both Kamar-Taj and herself, the reason Kamar-Taj obtained magic from Vishanti instead of other mystical entities was due to the intervention of the cosmic deity, Eternity—one of the five great cosmic beings. It was under Eternity's guidance that the Ancient One formed her contract with Vishanti.
Initially, the Ancient One hesitated to take Salomon as a disciple. Even Vishanti had its own agenda. While the Ancient One had Eternity's backing, Vishanti remained Kamar-Taj's primary magic provider. Vishanti had already chosen its preferred successor for the title of Sorcerer Supreme. The Trinity of Agamotto, Oshtur, and Hoggoth sought to reclaim control over Kamar-Taj, which had grown too independent. They wanted a Sorcerer Supreme who would obey them without question.
However, the Ancient One was too powerful, and her ties to Eternity were too strong. Vishanti couldn't risk breaking the contract, fearing that it might push the Ancient One toward Dormammu and make her their enemy—something they couldn't afford. So, they had no choice but to wait for her eventual death.
Salomon Damonette's birth gave the Ancient One new hope—a chance to ensure Earth's independence before the next Sorcerer Supreme could mature. She told Salomon the story of Jezebel, trying to root his emotional ties to humanity. She told him, "Your existence is the continuation of Jezebel's love."
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"How did you do it?" The Ancient One asked once the other students had left.
She reached out and gently ruffled Salomon's soft, curly black hair again. At his age, his childish features made it difficult to distinguish his gender, and he looked particularly adorable. Even the Ancient One couldn't resist pinching his chubby, rosy cheeks.
"I just wanted to warm up some soup. I was reading The Book of Raziel and didn't want to take a break to eat, so I thought I'd heat up the soup from last night," Salomon said with an innocent shrug. He wasn't lying.
In truth, the moment Salomon gained self-awareness, he saw the Ancient One and quickly deduced where he was. But because of his inherently low-desire nature, he couldn't even be bothered to feel surprised.
He then examined his "golden finger" abilities—his ten sacred marks didn't just enhance his physical attributes but also contained the memories of ten deceased grand sorcerers. These memories included vast amounts of magical knowledge. Salomon immediately recognized their origins—some from Faerûn, others from Greyhawk, Eberron, or even the Inner Sea.
Still, he couldn't help but complain: why did so many of these mages specialize in necromancy? Were they all hammered to death for being too evil? And why did his golden finger resemble a demilich's soul gem? Was this foreshadowing his eventual fate as a lich?
These sacred marks, while granting him knowledge, also had side effects—when he accessed them, he suffered massive information overloads. These grand sorcerers had all lived long lives, whereas he had been a mere shut-in. His soul simply wasn't strong enough to withstand the influx of memories.
It was a deadlock. If he wanted to absorb the knowledge, he had to strengthen his soul first. To do that, he had to practice Kamar-Taj's magic.
Once Salomon completed his basic training, he was allowed to read certain books from the library. The Book of Raziel, also known as The Key of Solomon, wasn't actually written by King Solomon. It was a medieval grimoire, filled with nonsensical black magic rituals, including blood sacrifices. Because its contents were utter gibberish, the book was relegated to a library corner as a cautionary tale for new students. That's how Salomon got his hands on it.
The real Book of Enoch, which contained the angel Raziel's true knowledge, was still off-limits to him.
Salomon read The Book of Raziel with great amusement. Having only inherited basic cantrips so far, he hadn't yet encountered true mysticism.
Excited, he tried using a simple magic trick to heat his soup. But in a world without spell slots or a magic weave, he had to manually chant a long incantation while controlling his magic output.
Instead of warming the soup, a burst of sparks shot out the door, alarming the sorcerers in training. That led to the scene at the beginning of this chapter.
The Ancient One gently patted Salomon's head again. She knew his origins were unusual but chose not to tell anyone. She hadn't even used the Eye of Agamotto to peer into his future—despite receiving it from Eternity, it was still a Vishanti artifact, and who knew what tricks they had left inside?
After a moment of thought, she spoke. "You need more practice, Salomon."
She summoned a glass of juice through a portal. "Try freezing this drink. Go on, don't be afraid—I'm right here."
Salomon was touched. He followed her instructions… and then the Ancient One casually inserted a straw into the now-frosted juice and walked away, sipping contentedly.
Salomon rolled his eyes. So much for the wise and solemn mentor he'd imagined—this woman just tricked him into making her a cold drink!