Shadow Name: Daniel
True Name: Jacob DeNardo
Nicknames: Patch, J.D.
Pen Name: John R. Robertson
"Ok. Now it's really late."
Jacob's eyes were protesting, and the clock on the wall agreed with them, ticking in quiet disapproval. He gave up fighting for the right phrase that obviously wasn't coming and closed his moleskine. He liked computers as much as the next man, and had one too, in the other room, but he couldn't bring himself to be creative in front of a screen's eerie light. Pen and paper did it for him.
He yawned and stretched - as much as a man barely above 5' can stretch - and went to the window. The street below was empty and quiet. The gale that swayed the treetops made the old sign of the bookshop creak. Inky black clouds were swallowing the stars, a storm was brewing to the east. He could hear the wind howling outside the old window, and another faint sound which, he realized with a smile, was Winnie peacefully snoring on the floor below. He murmured a brief prayer for his elderly friend, and went to get ready for the night.
He folded his clothes and washed his teeth, looking in the mirror at his long, unruly black hair, and at the shadows around his eyes. It wasn't a matter of little sleep, his father and brother, proud in their police uniforms in the last photo together, hanging on the opposite wall, have those shadows too. It must be the italian in them. Not that Jacob had been sleeping a lot lately. Ever since "Amber drops" was published, he had been willing to move on, and write more. Winnie had found him some books that truly gave him food for thought and ideas for new stories.
He made sure that the notebook was beside his bed, first thing to be found in the morning, and sat on his mat. He began to control his breathing, to reach that pace and intensity he knew would empty his mind and open the doors of his subconscious, allowing him deeper and more meaningful dreams. He had found this simple meditation technique in a strange booklet that Winnie gave him. Jacob had always loved the mystery of dreams, their interpretation, their symbology. He had written about it, too. Some of his best ideas came right out of his dreams.
"I'll never thank her enough."
He lay down on his bed, and quickly fell asleep...
He found himself floating in darkness, with no sense of time or direction. Then a glimmer of light appeared on what quickly became the horizon, like a distant lighthouse. Jacob could feel the light calling for him, and he knew he had to reach it. But as soon as the desire, the need for that golden light took form in his heart, he began to fall. A weight, a block of lead was hanging from his neck and dragging him down, faster and faster. He fell through an ocean of storm clouds lit by a geometry of lightnings and sank into a dark, cold sea. The water all around him reverberated with the deafening echoes of a thousand thunders.
Fighting desperately, he gained the surface and took a panicked breath, but the leaden weight was pulling him down, and huge waves threatened to drown him any moment. He reached for the chain around his neck to toss it away, but... something in the back of his mind told him not to, that there were other weights he should have shed. He suddenly became very aware of his panic, of the utter fear that was threatening to carry him away, and used his will as a weapon against it, struggling to calm down. Immediately he felt somewhat lighter. Then all the fears that plagued him over the years began to pour out of his mind and his soul. He wielded his force of will like a knight's lance and ran through them all. The bullies that tormented him because he was too little and weak to defend himself, a teacher or an editor telling him he had no talent whatsoever, his brother getting shot like his father; each of them fell under his resolve and left him free and exhilarated, as he skimmed over the billows. He nearly effortlessly swam to the shore. He did not feel the change, but the hanging block of lead had turned into copper chains wrapped around his neck and chest.
Jacob looked up at the lighthouse, at the warm, perfect, golden light that shone on top of it. He thought he could hear it sing with a chorus of heavenly voices. Then the lightnings began to fall. The first one struck mere feet away from him and blinded him. The second one struck true. He felt his heart burst, his blood boil, all the nerves in his body sizzle and making sparks. And it got only worse, as more bolts fell unmercifully upon him. He thought to get rid of the chains that were scorching his flesh, but opening his eyes he saw them, creatures with bodies of elemental fury and eyes of mind-breaking purity. This was another test another trial. There was something else he needed to let go. Jacob got to his knees and forswore his pride, his arrogance, his petty dreams of revenge against those who wronged him, his lewd little secrets, his greedy desires of power and wealth. And as each of his sins was consumed by thunderbolts, he felt the pain disappear, and he realized to be whole, pure and light-hearted like he hadn't been since he was a little child. His body no longer offered resistance to the lightnings that struck him harmlessly then, and the chains had turned into a shining silver shield, stuck to his chest.
The seraphims looked upon him and nodded, and with arms made of wind lighning and fire pointed to a cobbled road that lead up to lighthouse. Jacob walked and climbed, since he found himself in front of the last trial. All around the lighthouse the ground was cracked, and from each crack erupted roaring flames, more than ten feet high, forming a ring of fire. Jacob could feel the heat even from a dozen yards away, yet he knew he had to go, for the light was calling him, and if he had turned back he would have lost it forever. So he stepped into the flames. He felt them consume him, dissolving his skin and flesh and bones to reach his soul, so quickly he didn't even felt pain, he was overwhelmeld and became one thing with the fire. The flames filled his soul, igniting his faith, his resolve, his curiosity, his willpower. As he stepped to the other side, he was forever changed. The shield on his chest melted through his fingers, leaving only a golden cogwheel, large as his palm, incandescent, covered with the mystical symbols of the sun.
He finally reached the lighthouse and bathed in the light he craved. The voices of angels filled the air. He noticed that the tower had no door, but was totally covered with a buzzing, intricate clockwork mechanism, that worked only in part though. Jacob circled it three times and then he found a void, a gap among the other gears, that could only be filled by his cogwheel. He put it on its hinge, and it immediately began to spin and spread its glow, and soon a part of the slid aside, allowing him entry. He found himself in a large marble hall, lit by the blinding light above. Everywhere all around him there were marks, symbols of gold, and he quickly realized they were names. Jacob found a white spot that was meant for him, and with the fire and electricity that flowed through his new body, he etched his name on the spotless stone.
He was filled with the light, and something within himself cracked like a seed to let his new life begin. Gravity had no more hold on him, and he floated to the top of the lighthouse, and into the starry sky above. He saw the the sun rise over the Realm of Aether, bathing everything in divine light, except for the Abyss that lay beyond its boundaries. But above the endless chasm, like fog and clouds, he recognized the Realms of Dream, and he saw a road being built there, that bridged the Abyss below. That was to be his mission, he realized, that was why the light had called him, to find the road in dreams and help its construction. And with this final revelation, the darkness claimed him again.
He was woken up by a noise at his door. Someone knocking insistently.
"Patch? Patch, rise and shine, dear! It's late and there's someone you should meet." he heard Winnie's voice say.
Jacob took a look around, still confused. This was still his house, but there was something different. There was... a glow to most things. And there was his dream. He never had a dream so powerful, so vivid. He still reeled from it.
He put on some pants and went at the door. There were Winnie and a blond man in his thirties. But all around Winnie there was a rose glow, with hints of vermillion and flickers of silver. The man instead shone like a beacon, in sparkling light blue. Jacob looked at both of them, wide-eyed not really understanding, while they exchanged a knowing look.
"Patch, this is Martin. I think you have a lot to talk about."
---
You don’t know the truth yet… Your character is a young mage, the Mysteries are new, the truth of the universe, indeed reality is just making itself known to you. And already you know that some truths are being hidden from you, either purposefully or perhaps because you are not ready to understand the greater secrets just quite yet. Awakened society is all about secrets, and you know that even your Master is hiding things, perhaps for your own good, perhaps to secure their own power… but how does your character feel about this, or do they even care?
As much as I feel that the recovery of humanity's lost inheritance should be a coral effort, the mages that hoard and hide these secrets are not my enemies. They're obstacles. They are misguided, sure, but I cannot force my path upon them, or hate them for walking other roads. I'll just have to work my way around them. Everybody n the end has to follow his own path, and be judged accordingly.
I have the Power… Sleepers are ignorant, they believe that the world they live in is the way things should be. They can’t fathom a supernal world, a world where reality can bend to the will of an individual. The awakened have incredible power at their fingertips, how does this affect how you see sleepers, how you view reality, and how you view yourself. You can force your will on the world at will, but as the saying goes power corrupts… Will it corrupt you?
Yet sleepers are capable of amazing things, and in their dreams they often catch glimpses of the Truth. They merely sleep, they are not dead to us, and they often struggle in their sleep and should helped when possible.
My path to magic requires me to stay pure. That's how I found it, that's how it comes to me. Magic works through the soul. A tainted soul works tainted magic, and tainted magic creates a tainted world. I'll strive to resist corruption in every possible way.
This reality is a cage… a prison for your soul. The Exarchs, if you even believe they exist hold all the keys to reality. Their minions the Seers of the Throne do exist, and they are the enemy of the Pentacle, they are rarely obvious but they lurk just the same. They are omnipresent, they are dangerous, and they want to control you… or do they control you already?
Those who want to deny humanity its destiny are my true enemies. Those that would "exchange a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in cage", as sleeper artists once sang, and lock everyone else in that same cage. There can be no middle ground with them.
Your Shadow Name is your identity… Your Shadow Name is important, it is the name by which you shall come to identify yourself. It is who you are now, how did you choose your name? What does it mean to you, and what does it express about you, or how you view the world…
Daniel is the man who choose to remain pure, and was rewarded by God with the power to befriend even hungry lions, to understand the meaning of dreams, and to protects his friends from even the cruelest flames. Jacob hopes to draw strength from his name, and to be worthy of it.
