What Was Written Before

  I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind still processing everything that had happened. The five attribute points had settled into my body without the same overwhelming agony as before. Remy was probably right—my increased Fortitude made me more resistant to the changes.

  But there was still one thing left to deal with.

  I focused on my inventory, and the familiar translucent window appeared. The Arcane-Rune sat there, pulsing with a faint golden light that seemed to breathe in rhythm with my own heartbeat.

  "You planning to just stare at it all night?" Az asked from his perch on the windowsill.

  "I'm thinking," I said.

  "Well, think faster. We've got a lot to do tomorrow, and you're tired."

  I reached out mentally and selected the rune. The moment I did, it dissolved from the inventory slot and reformed in the air before me—a complex geometric pattern that hurt to look at. The design shifted and rotated, twisting in ways that made my eyes water.

  Out of nowhere the pattern shot forward and hit me square in the chest.

  My body went rigid. It wasn’t painful, but I felt heat blooming behind my eyes, spreading down through my skull and into my spine. My fingertips began to burn—not with flame, but with something I couldn't name.

  My vision blurred. The room swam in and out of focus.

  The heat got worse. My hands started shaking as I suddenly knew how to draw things I'd never drawn before. Dozens of patterns, hundreds of variations, all cramming themselves into my head whether I wanted them there or not.

  I gasped and doubled over, but kept my jaw clenched, as I did my best not to scream.

  A space opened up in my mind— The Arcane Codex, the System called it. Pages and pages of diagrams, instructions, lists of materials, warnings. All of it sitting there, waiting for me.

  The burning hit its peak, then started to fade, as the Rune stopped trying to split my skull open.

  A new window appeared:

  ?? ARCANE SYSTEM: NEW ABILITY ACQUIRED

  You have unlocked a new foundational ability:

  Arcane-Script:

  The pre-Sundering language is yours to command. What was written before may now be read, spoken, and inscribed again. The architecture of celestial grace and infernal fury becomes legible when you focus upon it, for both were built upon this Arcane-Script. Your Sight pierces the veil concealing magical inscriptions. Ward-lines, traps, and bound sigils reveal themselves to your gaze. All languages and script are now available to you.

  The Arcane-Codex opens within your mind. This archive contains ward diagrams, ritual structures, and the materials required to shape them. You may now create wards and inscriptions using physical materials. Salt, ash, chalk, blood, or any substance the Codex demands. Complexity and duration answer to your level and the components you provide.

  I sat there, breathing hard. My hands still tingled.

  "Well?" Az asked. "What'd you get?"

  "Can you not see the window?" I asked.

  "What window?" Az said, and I could hear the irritation creeping into his voice.

  "Huh." I looked between them. "That's weird. You guys could see the other windows before. The quest updates, the level-up notifications."

  "We can see those," Remy said carefully. "But right now, there's nothing visible to us."

  "So the System's picking and choosing," I said, thinking it through. "Showing us different things."

  Az went quiet for a second. "Hold on. You're saying it could show us windows you don't see?"

  "Maybe," I said. "I mean, if it's not showing you this one, who's to say it hasn't shown you something I'm missing?"

  "That's... interesting," Remy said slowly.

  "Interesting? The magic computer living in our soul has an agenda," Az said. "It's deciding what each of us gets to know."

  "We're all the same person now, right? That's what everyone keeps saying," I said. "But the System's treating us like we're separate. Like it has reasons for who sees what."

  "Which means it's playing a longer game than just keeping you alive," Az said.

  "The Arcane System predates everything," Remy said quietly. "Perhaps it has... priorities we don't yet understand."

  "Great," Az muttered. "So we can't even trust the thing that's supposed to be helping us."

  "Or it's helping us in ways we can't see yet," Remy countered.

  “Relax you guys, I'll pull up my character sheet again so you can see it.”

  ?? ARCANE SYSTEM:

  Jarek Donati, Level 2 Nephilim.

  Experience Points: 1,000 out of 2000 for Level 3.

  ? Health: 80 out of 80. – ? Stamina: 20 out of 20.

  ?? Mana: 25 out of 25. – Current State: Corporeal.

  Ascension 50 —?— Damnation 50.

  ? Grace: 16 out of 16. – ? Fury 15 out of 15

  BASE ATTRIBUTES:

  Strength: 6.

  Dexterity: 4.

  Fortitude: 8.

  Mind: 5.

  Instinct: 5.

  Dominance: 6.

  RACIAL SKILLS:

  Arcane Cartography: The Arcane System projects a shifting outline of the surrounding terrain into your vision, forming an ever-present map that expands as you focus upon it.

  Eternal Mend: The fusion of mortal flesh with Arcane essence allows your body to repair injury with unnatural speed.

  Lumen Sight: Pierce the veil between realms. Darkness becomes twilight, and the true nature of all beings glimmers at the edge of perception.

  Bloodlash: Channel fury through your strikes to extend them in crimson arcs that cleave both body and soul.

  Arcane-Script:The pre-Sundering language is yours to command. What was written before may now be read, spoken, and inscribed again.

  Arcane-Codex: This archive contains ward diagrams, ritual structures, and the materials required to cast them.

  "It says I now have access to something called Arcane-Script," I said, still trying to catch my breath. "I can read, write, and understand all languages now. Any language—spoken or written. That includes Enochian, Infernal, and the Arcane Script itself."

  "All languages?" Remy asked.

  "That's what it says. And I can see wards when I focus on them. The Codex thing, it's like a library in my head with instructions on how to make different wards." I rubbed my temples. "And I can mess with other people's wards if I can get close enough to them."

  I pulled the Codex up, scrolling through the entries. There were sections for celestial wards written in Enochian, infernal wards in Infernal script, and arcane wards in the old language both were based on. Each one had diagrams, material lists, instructions.

  "Let me see what's in here," I said, looking through the different categories. "Wards against demonic presence. Wards against celestial presence. Wards against both." I paused. "Most of these need pretty basic stuff. Salt, ash, chalk, sometimes blessed water or consecrated ground. Blood from the caster."

  "Show me," Remy said suddenly, his voice sharp.

  I focused on sharing the window with him. "Which one?"

  "The ward against celestial presence."

  I pulled it up. The diagram appeared, showing the pattern that needed to be drawn, the materials required, the activation method.

  Remy went very still.

  "Remiel?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

  "The materials," he said slowly. "Salt. Blessed water. Blood from the caster." He looked up at me. "No angelic essence. No grace. No... no blood from a slain angel."

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  "Wait, what?" I looked at him. "You thought someone had to kill an angel to make those wards?"

  "The wards at St. Marys," Remy said quietly. "The ones that kept both angels and demons out. We were told such wards could only be created with angelic essence. Blood taken from a slain angel. Not given willingly—taken. That was the only way to ward against Heaven."

  "Wait," I said. "Slain. You mean actually dead? Not just killed and sent back to Heaven?"

  "To slay is to destroy the soul itself," Remy said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Complete annihilation. No return. No rebirth. When the vessel is destroyed, we return to our realm and manifest anew. But to truly slay one of us is to end everything. Forever."

  "It's the one thing we don't do," Az said, and there was no humor in his voice. "Angels and demons have been fighting since the Sundering, but we don't destroy each other's souls. Ever. That line doesn't get crossed."

  "Until St. Marys," Remy whispered. "We were told someone had crossed it. That an angel had been slain—truly slain—to create those wards. And Hell was told the same thing about a demon."

  "It sparked something we'd never seen before," Az said. "Both sides thought the other had committed the ultimate atrocity. Angels started hunting demons to destroy their souls in retribution. Demons did the same to angels. For the first time since the beginning, we were actually trying to permanently kill each other."

  "And you thought you were the one who started it," I said, looking at Remy.

  "Yes," Remy said. "When I believed I had placed those wards, I thought... I thought I had slain one of my own. That I had committed the first atrocity. That every soul destroyed afterward was because of what I had done."

  I scrolled through more entries in the Codex. Ward after ward, all listing the same basic materials. Salt, ash, chalk, blood from the caster. Nothing about angel blood. Nothing about demon blood. Nothing about slaying anything.

  "They lied to you," I said. "Both sides lied."

  "Of course they did," Az said quietly. "The Powers knew those wards were Arcane."

  "But why?" Remy asked, and I could hear something breaking in his voice. "Why make us think such an atrocity had been committed? "

  Az was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was more serious than I'd ever heard it. "Because an Arcane Ward was not supposed to be possible. because they were trying to hide the truth about the Arcane system.”He paused for a moment and I could tell he was realizing something important. Because creation was never supposed to be helpless, Remy."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "The Arcane," Az said. "Before the Sundering, before the split... we had a purpose. All of us. Angels, demons, whatever we were before we became those things. We were supposed to protect creation. Guard it. help it grow."

  "Grow toward what?" I asked.

  "I don't know," Az said. "Ascension maybe. Evolution. Something beyond what it is now. The Arcane-System was part of that. It was supposed to be theirs—creation's. He said looking towards Remiel. A way to progress. To become something more."

  "But after the split," Remy said slowly, realization dawning on his face, "we stopped serving that purpose."

  "Yeah," Az said. "Heaven wanted to do things one way. Hell wanted to do things another way. And neither side gave a shit about the original plan anymore. They wanted power. Control."

  "So the powers lied to us. They had us hunt down anything that had to do with the Arcane including Nephilim. They must have known that mixing something from creation and the ethereal could grant access to the Arcane-System.” Az continued. “And whether demons and the spawns of Hell like to admit it or not, everything outside of creation comes from the ethereal.”

  Why wouldn't the powers want us to have access to the Arcane if it was meant for us? Why go through so much effort? I asked.

  "Souls," Remy whispered. "They wanted to harvest souls without interference."

  "Bingo," Az said. "Keep creation helpless, keep them scared, keep them dependent. Make them choose a side. Make them think they need divine protection." He paused. "And the whole time, you're just feeding the machine. Fuel for the kingdoms. Power for whoever's at the top."

  "So they hunted down the Arcane knowledge," I said. "Made it forbidden."

  "Made it an abomination," Remy said, his voice hollow. "Told us it had to be destroyed. That it was corruption. The will of God. That anyone who touched it was a threat to all creation."

  "When really," Az said, "it was a threat to them. To their control."

  I looked down at my hands. "So this whole war, this whole endless fight between Heaven and Hell..."

  "It's real," Az said. "Don't get me wrong. Angels and demons really do hate each other now. But the reason for it? The whole 'struggle for creation's souls'.. We were all told, including you Mud. That Heaven was saving your very souls from corruption from sin.."

  "Everything I believed," Remy said quietly. "Everything I was told about protecting mortals, about guiding them, about serving the Creator's will..." He looked at me. "We weren't protecting them. We were keeping them controlled. Keeping them weak."

  "You didn't know," I said.

  "That doesn't matter," Remy said. "I should have questioned. I should have—"

  "How?" Az cut in. "You were created to believe, Remy. Questioning was against your nature. Same with me. We were all raised in this system, told this was how things worked. How could we know there was supposed to be another way? I rebelled and fell and you obeyed. At least that's what I always thought. Now I'm realizing I didn't rebel against shit. I just moved to a different part of the machine to serve the same damn purpose.."

  "Until now," I said, looking at the Codex. "Until some idiot stabbed the wrong people with the wrong knife."

  Az actually smiled at that. "Yeah. Turns out you can't hide the fundamental foundations of the universe from an idiot."

  We sat there for a moment, the weight of it all settling over us.

  "So what you're telling me," I said slowly, "is that we're not just fighting angels and demons. We're fighting the entire system."

  "Pretty much," Az said.

  "And they'll do anything to keep the Arcane from spreading."

  "Anything," Remy confirmed. "If they discover you possess Arcane abilities, if they realize what you can do... they will mobilize everything to stop you."

  "Because I can show other people how to do this," I said. "I can give them back what was taken. This codex has countless wards. I essentially have an endless book of magic in my head with spells and rituals that anybody could use. I mean if I could teach others if I could share this...”

  "If you survive long enough," Az said. "Which brings us back to our problem. We're going to have to fight our own kind. Both of us, Remial. And they're not going to listen when we try to explain."

  Remy nodded slowly. "An angel who hasn't seen what I've seen, who hasn't been bound to the Arcane System itself... they would see this as corruption. As lies designed to turn me against my purpose."

  "So we're on our own," I said.

  "Not exactly," Az said. "We're on the side that was supposed to exist from the beginning. Before everything got twisted."

  Remy looked at both of us. "I will have to reconcile my faith with this truth. I will have to find a way to serve what I believe in while standing against those who claim to serve it too." He paused. "But I am not what I was. I am part of something new now. Something that predates corruption."

  "Yeah, well," Az said, some of his usual tone creeping back in. "Try not to get too deep on us, Feathers. We've still got to find an office, avoid getting killed by demon possessed mobsters, and figure out how to keep those Hellhounds from tracking us."

  "The Hellhounds," I said. "Shit, I forgot about that thing."

  "I think it's still circling the cathedral in Purgatory," Az said. "If it had come through the aperture it would have already found us by now."

  I closed the Codex and looked at both of them. "Tomorrow we start building the cover. Find an office. Get established. And I'll practice with this Arcane-Script."

  "And then?" Remy asked.

  "Then we go to St. Marys and figure out what the clergy is so desperate to hide."

  I lay back on the bed. The knowledge from the rune was still there, settled into my mind. Enochian, Infernal, Arcane. All of it waiting.

  And for the first time, I understood why both sides were so afraid of mortals getting their hands on this knowledge.

  We didn't need them. We never had.

  The morning light woke me up.

  I jerked awake, confused for a second before I remembered where I was. The Feldman place. 1920. St. Cloud, Minnesota.

  I sat up and rubbed my face. The knowledge from last night was still there, clear and accessible.

  Az was already awake, sitting on the windowsill and staring out at the street.

  "Sleep well?" he asked without looking at me.

  "Better than I thought I would." I stood and stretched. "What time is it?"

  "Early. Sun's been up maybe half an hour."

  I walked over and looked out. The street was quiet. A milk truck rolled past. Down the block, some shopkeeper was sweeping his steps.

  Normal. Peaceful.

  It wouldn't last.

  "Breakfast is at seven sharp," I said. "Should probably head down soon."

  "You planning to eat with the other guests?" Az asked.

  "Yeah. Need to blend in."

  I moved to the small mirror and looked at myself. Still strange seeing this younger face. I definitely did not look 143 years old. No scars. Just clear skin and sharp eyes.

  I grabbed my coat and put it on. “I think we're going to do a little bit of shopping today too I want some clothes that are actually mine.”

  There was a knock at the door. "Breakfast is served," came a woman's voice from the hallway.

  "Thank you," I called back. "Be right down."

  I waited until her footsteps faded, then looked at Az and Remy.

  "You guys do me a favor today. If possible I want you guys to scout around me as we're moving and keep your heads on a swivel. And I don't mind if you guys are going to talk to me but let's be aware of our surroundings. I'm still trying to get used to all of this and I'm pretty sure yesterday I was walking around looking like a loon."

  "We'll behave," Az said with that grin.

  I opened the door and headed downstairs.

  The dining room was small but clean. Only three spots were taken when I walked in.

  Callahan sat at one end with coffee and a newspaper. An older couple sat across from each other near the middle, talking quietly in German.

  Mrs. Feldman came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of eggs and bacon.

  "Good morning, Mr. Donati," she said with a smile. "I hope you slept well."

  "Very well, thank you." I took a seat near Callahan and nodded to him. "Morning."

  "Morning," he said, not looking up from his paper.

  Mrs. Feldman set the plate in front of me along with coffee. "Help yourself to toast. There's jam and butter on the table."

  "This looks great. Thank you."

  She nodded and went back to the kitchen.

  I ate slowly, listening to the quiet conversation. The older couple was talking about visiting relatives. They were still speaking German, but I could understand what they were saying like I had spoken the language my entire life. Callahan turned pages without much interest.

  After a few minutes, he folded the paper and looked at me.

  "You mentioned last night you're a private investigator," he said.

  "That's right."

  "Setting up shop here in St. Cloud?"

  "Planning to, yeah. Figured there might be work."

  Callahan nodded, a small smile crossing his face. "There's work, all right. Town's been busier than usual. Lot of folks need things looked into." He took a sip of his coffee. "You know, a pal of mine sits on the property commission. He mentioned just last week there's a place downtown that might suit you. Corner of Fifth and St. Germain. Used to be a lawyer's office before he moved to Minneapolis."

  "Yeah?" I leaned forward a bit. "What's the building like?"

  "Good bones. Office space on the ground floor, apartment above it. Separate entrance around back for the residence." He set his cup down. "Rent's reasonable, and it's in a good spot. Right on the main drag, easy for folks to find you."

  "That sounds perfect, actually."

  "I can give you his name if you'd like. Henry Becker. Tell him Cal sent you, he'll take care of you." Callahan pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket and scribbled something down, tearing off the page and sliding it across the table. "His office is in the municipal building, second floor. He's usually there by nine."

  "I appreciate that," I said, pocketing the paper.

  Callahan stood, picking up his napkin from the table. "You'll do fine here. Folks appreciate someone who can help with their problems—missing persons, stolen property, that sort of thing." He paused, adjusting his coat. "Just remember, this is a farming community. Lot of folks make their living in... traditional ways. They tend to keep those matters close. As long as you're helping people with legitimate troubles, you'll find plenty of work."

  "Understood," I said.

  "Good man." He gave me a quick nod. "Enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Donati. Might see you around town."

  He left without another word.

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