M.S. Davidson
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22. Complex Universal Energy
🕑 Added 2025-08-04 01:47:28 +0000 UTCA few years ago, my brother Danny took my parents and me to Cancun for Christmas. I remembered standing in the shadow of Chichen Itza, the last wisps of morning mist lifting around us, with nothing but ancient stone and silence pressing in from every direction. Danny was already making his mark in the world and had pulled some strings with a friend in the Mexican government, getting us access at dawn—hours before the first wave of tourists would descend with their cameras and chatter. It was just Dad, Danny, and me alone in that vast, sacred place.
I'd always thought of myself as a skeptic, a realist—give me science, facts, logic. The measurable world made sense. But that morning, as the early light painted the stepped pyramid gold and threw long shadows across the plaza, I couldn't shake the feeling deep in my gut that there was something here I'd never understand. Something that existed in the space between facts.
Danny was his usual self at first, chuckling about how he "knew a guy who knew a guy," but even his easy confidence faltered as we climbed higher. The stone steps were worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, each one a small reminder of all the people who had made this same journey before us.
The silence up there was strange—heavy—pressing down on us like a living thing. It was almost deafening in its intensity, as if the absence of sound had weight and presence. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Dad, always the teacher, pointed out details in the weathered statues and intricate carvings—ancient gods and spirits, fierce figures with eyes that seemed to track our movement. Feathered serpents and jaguar warriors frozen in stone, their faces worn but somehow still fierce after all these centuries.
"No magic here," he'd said with that knowing smile of his, the one that meant he was about to launch into a lecture about historical significance and archaeological evidence. "Just remarkable engineering and artistry."
But as I stood there, feeling my heartbeat slow in that profound quiet, watching shadows shift across carvings that looked almost alive in the golden light, I wanted—desperately—to believe there was something here beyond any history book. Something that existed in the realm of mystery rather than measurement.
The small chamber at the top was even more intense. It wasn't much more than a single room with smooth walls and no inscriptions, just stone figures peering out from the shadows like eternal sentinels. They looked like guardians waiting for something—or someone.
Everything smelled of earth and rain, thick and humid, as if the air itself was steeped in ancient secrets. There was no one else around, yet the space felt... full. Populated by presences I couldn't see but somehow knew were there.
Just for a moment—maybe it was the altitude, or the early hour, or the way the light slanted through the doorway—I thought I felt it. Some invisible thread connecting this place to something vast and unknowable. A sense that magic wasn't just possible but inevitable.
Or maybe I just wanted it to be there so badly that I convinced myself I could feel it.
***
Fuck, I'm terrible at meditation.
I was trying to recreate that temple's profound silence in my head, but I kept hearing Dad complain about the heat—and Mom's inevitable response.
"I thought you said you were solar-powered, Sean?" Something like that, delivered with the kind of loving exasperation that came from thirty years of marriage.
Opening my eyes, I saw Cassie and Felix staring with increasingly frustrated expressions.
"The kid makes a spell in a day, blows up a Class-D monster, and asks out the most eligible girl in town," Cassie said, clearly reaching the end of her patience. "But he can't seem to stay focused for longer than a few minutes."
I was raised on computer screens, tablets, and video games. I was happy to focus on anything interesting, but focusing on nothing? Definitely not interesting. And given everything that had happened in the last day and a half, I personally thought I was doing pretty great.
"Okay," I said, finally standing up to stretch. We'd been at this for an hour, and my ass was numb from the meditation mat. "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. So let's change something up. Is there another way to do this without meditation? Because I'm clearly not built for it."
Felix seemed to consider this, then pulled a mana pearl from his vest pocket. The small sphere caught the ambient light, swirling with an internal energy that made my eyes want to track its movement.
"I was going to use this for your initiation ceremony, but I have an idea. Wait here," he said, standing. He walked to the wall, manifested the door back into existence, and stepped outside.
A few minutes passed. I looked to Cassie, who shrugged with the universal expression of 'your guess is as good as mine.' I was about to ask what the hell was taking so long when the door opened again.
Felix returned with a Sentarian in tow. The creature was shorter than the one I'd seen cleaning up crab goo earlier, but looked no less alien. The door remained solid this time instead of vanishing.
"Ben, this is Ferris," Felix said. "He's agreed to help you in exchange for a pearl. He's an Adept Arcanist studying at Sylvarus."
Ferris nodded, the movement precise and somehow dignified despite being completely inhuman.
"Amituofo," he said, his voice deep and accented in a way that drew out certain syllables melodically. "This humble scholar is glad to meet you, Breaker. Felix tells me you come from a world without mana. This is... an intriguing opportunity. This humble scholar is honored to assist."
He settled cross-legged across from me with fluid grace, and I finally got a proper look at what a Sentarian actually was. He wore simple blue robes that somehow looked both practical and elegant. His face was far more expressive than I'd expected—rather than just an exoskeleton, he had ridged plates along his jaw that shifted when he spoke. The area around his distinctly cat-like eyes was cut away from his shell, revealing pale flesh beneath and allowing him to squint and express himself with startling humanity.
He was truly, completely alien. And yet somehow familiar in the way he carried himself.
"My appearance troubles you, Ben?" Ferris asked, tilting his head with what seemed like genuine understanding. "This is normal."
"There's just nothing like you where I come from," I said, trying to be polite while my brain catalogued every detail. "I recognize so much on Ark, but you're just... completely different."
Ferris nodded slowly. "We understand. The Sentarian Collective is not originally from Ark. We are pilgrims from a lost home. It has been only a few generations, but this world is our own now."
"The Sentarians are master Runebinders," Cassie said, producing a blue coin from her pocket. "Their understanding of mana is insane." She placed the coin on a small end table, and I watched it melt into the stone. I blinked, and there was a perfect red apple sitting where the coin had been. She picked it up and took a crisp bite.
"What the hell, Cassie!" I said, gesturing wildly at the casual miracle I'd just witnessed. "You can't tell me to clear my mind and then just manifest food out of thin air! Now I need to know exactly how that works."
"Learn to control your mana," she grinned at me, taking another bite. "Figure your shit out if you're hungry."
My stomach chose that moment to grumble audibly, and I sighed. I really just wanted some water. Or maybe iced tea. Was she creating food that already existed somewhere, or could she make anything? Like some kind of magical replicator?
"Right. Okay. Clear my mind," I muttered.
Ferris tossed the mana pearl to me in a gentle arc, and I caught it instinctively. The sphere was warm and seemed to pulse against my palm like a tiny heartbeat.
"Mana control is not something everyone learns the same way," he explained, his voice taking on a teacher's cadence. "Some must clear their minds entirely. Others must fill them completely. Perhaps you should try letting your thoughts flow freely while keeping your focus anchored on the pearl."
I closed my eyes, feeling the mana pearl's comforting weight in my hand. Instead of forcing myself into silence, I let the thoughts come naturally: the crab fight, the impossible tower, the death dome, Diana's sharp smile. And then, unexpectedly, memories of the cottage back home drifted through my mind.
***
Twigs snapped and leaves crunched underfoot as I trudged through a forest so familiar it made my chest ache with recognition. Massive blueberry bushes dotted the winding path between towering pines and granite boulders worn smooth by countless seasons. I could see the bright berries hanging in heavy clusters, their deep purple-blue so vivid they seemed to glow even in the dappled shade.
This was home. The woods behind the cottage where Danny and I had spent countless summer afternoons getting gloriously lost.
I reached out instinctively, plucking a fat berry and popping it into my mouth. But instead of the expected burst of sweet-tart juice, something hard cracked against my teeth. I spat it out in shock, and a pearl the size of a marble rolled into my palm, glowing with soft blue light that pulsed like a gentle heartbeat.
A pearl? That couldn't be right.
Where the hell was I? The cottage, maybe? Everything looked impossibly real—more vivid than memory should allow—but wasn't I just sitting in the Tower with Cassie and Felix? Fragments of childhood adventures played through my mind: Danny showing me which berries were ripe, Dad pointing out animal tracks in the soft earth, all of it blending strangely with the acute awareness that I was somehow here and there simultaneously.
I turned the pearl over in my palm, watching wisps of sparkling dust trail from its surface like glittering smoke on an unfelt breeze. Mana. That's what I was here for, wasn't it? The pearl seemed to call to something deep within me—a magnetic pull I felt in my bones, a thirst I hadn't known I carried. I let myself sink into the sensation, focusing on that inexplicable need.
Ahead, the river sparkled in the afternoon sunlight, flowing past the same weathered trees Danny and I used to navigate on oversized inner tubes during endless summer days. The crystal-clear water babbled softly over smooth stones, filling me with the bone-deep calm I'd forgotten existed. This was my favorite place in the world—my sanctuary.
Only now there was something impossible—a giant mirror stretched across the river like a dam, its surface perfectly smooth despite the water flowing through it as if it wasn't even there.
I approached along the familiar bank, my feet finding the same route I'd walked a thousand times before. When I reached out to touch the mirror's surface, warmth radiated up my arm like sunlight through glass. My reflection stared back, holding the mana pearl exactly as I was, and the wisps of energy drifted directly into the mirror, creating perfect synchronicity between reality and reflection.
"Alright, Ben, one more pitch," a voice said suddenly beside me—warm, encouraging, impossibly familiar. "Don't think about the bases being loaded. Just keep your eye on the glove and think about the pizza waiting after the game."
The memory hit me like a physical blow: Mom's voice from the sidelines of my last Little League game; her smile brighter than the summer sun. I was twelve, nervous as hell with the game on the line, and she'd somehow known exactly what to say. It had been one of the best days of my life—before basketball took over, anyway.
I grinned, winding up my arm as if the mana pearl were a well-worn baseball. The motion felt natural, muscle memory from countless afternoons playing catch with Dad. I threw the pearl toward the mirror with everything I had, putting my whole body behind it just like Coach had taught me.
The moment the pearl struck the mirror's surface, reality shattered.
A thunderous crack split the air, and a shockwave blasted through me with the force of a breaking dam. I felt myself falling and sitting simultaneously, like I was floating between two different states of being. Colors exploded around me in a riot of impossible hues—blues deeper than ocean trenches, greens that sang with life, golds that tasted like summer afternoons.
My mind tumbled through the chaos, desperately trying to find something solid to anchor to. Through it all, Ferris's voice reached me like a lifeline, somehow both distant and crystal clear.
"You are making excellent progress, Ben. Let yourself be carried along."
It was surreal—I could feel his guidance like a tether connecting me to something real, but I had no sense of where my body was or what it was doing. I was free-falling through a kaleidoscope of sensation, my mind spinning as it tried to process this impossible experience of being everywhere and nowhere at once.
***
I leaned back in an infinity hot tub, steam rising around me as I took in the impossible view. A vast ocean stretched to the horizon. The tub was carved into the side of a mountain so high that clouds drifted below us. Enormous swells crashed against jagged rocks with thunderous roars that I could feel in my chest, the sound echoing up through the glass bottom of the tub. I could see straight down through the crystal-clear floor, watching the chaotic dance of white foam and dark water hundreds of feet below.
"Ain't that a wicked good view, huh?"
I jumped hard enough to send water sloshing over the tub's edge, immediately snapping out of my hypnotized stare. I spun around, and my brain tried to process what I was seeing.
Standing casually behind me, sipping from a tall beer glass complete with a bright red bendy straw, was... an elf. But not the ethereal, otherworldly kind from fantasy movies. This guy looked like he'd crawled out of Santa's workshop after a three-day bender and a fight with a lawnmower.
He had that bone-deep weariness of someone who'd seen too much, but it was tempered with an oddly prideful satisfaction, like he'd just won an argument he'd been having for years. His elongated, pointed ears poked through a wild mop of bright orange hair that looked like it had declared war on every comb in existence. His skin was a rich, dark brown, and his eyes sparkled with mischief that usually ended with someone getting arrested. He wore robes that looked like they'd lost a fight with a sewing machine—patches on patches, held together by stubbornness and prayer.
"Aw, this beer's wicked good!" he said, holding up his glass appreciatively. "They call it an IPA? You ain't wrong, pal—Deathroot wine really is just ram's piss compared to this shit."
I blinked at him, my brain trying to catch up. My soul had a Boston accent?
The water around me felt completely real—warm, with that slightly mineral taste you get from natural hot springs. The ocean wind cut through the steam, and I was soaked to the bone.
"You still takin' it all in, huh?" he continued, grinning like he was enjoying a private joke. "Well, get fuckin' comfy, kid! You and me, we're gonna be seein' a lot more of each other. You can call me Ted."
"Who the hell are you?" I managed, still trying to wrap my head around how impossibly real this all felt.
"You ain't that bright, are ya, kid?" he replied, taking another sip through his straw. "I'm Ted."
"Okay, and where am I, Ted?" I said, fighting to keep my voice level. "Are you supposed to be my soul? Because I'm supposed to ask if you like Bravery or something."
"Just your Spirit Guide," he said, like that explained everything. He waved his free hand in a sweeping gesture that encompassed the entire panoramic view, his Boston accent thick enough to spread on toast. "This is your soul. You could stand up on the edge of that tub and piss off the side if you wanted. Probably a stupid thing to do, but fuck, it's your soul, ya know?"
"Wait," I said, my mind reeling. "How am I supposed to communicate with an ocean?"
"Kid," Ted said, looking at me like I'd just asked him to explain why water was wet. "You ain't gettin' it. You ARE your soul. Right here, right now."
"But I feel like... me?" I said, touching my chest, feeling my heartbeat.
"Bingo," Ted said, thrusting out his hand with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just proven a point. "C'mon, kid, shake my hand—it's part of the thing."
I hesitated for a moment, staring at his outstretched palm. Something about this felt like crossing a line I couldn't uncross. But what choice did I have?
I reached out and grasped his hand. His grip was firm, calloused, real.
The moment our skin made contact, the world shifted like someone had flipped a cosmic switch. The bright afternoon sun dissolved like sugar in water, replaced by a sprawling planetarium of night sky that bloomed overhead in seconds. Stars blinked on one by one, then dozens at a time, until we were surrounded by entire galaxies swirling in impossible colors, so vivid and close they made my eyes water.
"Oh, fu—"
***
I was flying—though at least this time it wasn't falling. I flipped head over heels through a cascade of lights and sound that would've made Pink Floyd jealous, tumbling until I finally stabilized myself. I was careening at impossible speed through the densest field of stars I'd ever seen, like someone had cranked the universe's brightness setting to eleven and forgotten to dial it back down.
It looked like an elaborate screensaver, as if I'd somehow zoomed out to see the cosmos from a perspective that shouldn't have been possible for a human brain to process.
But unlike my nightmarish experience stuck in that portal—helpless and terrified—this felt almost... familiar. Like flying through a dream I'd had but couldn't quite remember.
Without warning, I stopped dead. No deceleration, no gradual slowing—just an instant halt that should have turned me into cosmic jelly. A massive sonic boom erupted around me, followed by shockwaves of energy rippling outward through this strange cosmos like I'd just broken some fundamental law of physics.
I didn't feel a thing.
"Whoa, hold up, hold up," came Ted's voice from everywhere and nowhere at once. "I'm supposed to teach you how to manipulate mana in your body. One sec. Where the hell did I put it... Ah, dammit."
I spun around, taking in what looked like deep space but with significantly more visible stars than should have been possible. It was like floating in a sea of living color—nebulae swirled in impossible purples and golds, and distant galaxies pulsed with their own internal rhythm.
Ted's voice seemed to make the stars themselves pulse in time with his words, like the entire universe was his sound system.
"Yeah, it's me. Hang on—fuck! Who the hell left that there? Oh, right... me. This it? Yeah. Ahem."
Could Ted read my thoughts? That was deeply concerning.
"I can see your core memories too," Ted said, answering my unspoken question. "Who do you think's been showin' you all these flashbacks?"
Wait, Ted was the reason I kept remembering random moments from my past? I'd thought it was just some kind of psychological defense mechanism, my brain trying to cope with all the insanity.
"Bingo, kid. Nothing random about it."
Before I could process that revelation fully, I was moving again. This time the stars streamed past so fast they formed a tunnel of pure light around me, colors shifting in patterns that should have given me a seizure but instead filled me with a strange sense of wonder. My mind seemed to relax as I felt my physical self returning, like slipping back into a familiar pair of shoes.
It felt like almost no time had passed at all. I was still sitting in the meditation pose, still holding... something. The mana pearl?
"Ted Publishin' Presents," Ted boomed like he was announcing the main event at Madison Square Garden, “Complex Universal Energies for Dummies! Written by yours truly, available nowhere because I just made it up. Chapter One: Lil Baby Don't Know Shit About Mana.”
