Ideworld Chronicles: Act 3, Chapter 30: Yes, magic is real. And it’s here to help

Day in the story: 13th January (Tuesday), morning

I had been waiting inside the steam-punk styled studio of DigiMaps, seated on a surprisingly comfortable leather sofa, while last week’s persistent flirt occupied the chair across from me. During our previous encounter he had been confident, borderline creepy even. This time he stayed restrained, as if someone had reminded him this was a workplace.

He had greeted me, offered something to drink, but I declined. Since then, he had been staring. Not at my face and not at my hands though. Not even at the boobs, oh no, no.

At my missing leg.

And at the crutches leaning against the sofa. His head bobbing from one to the other on repeat.

“Is something wrong?” I finally asked. “You’re awfully quiet today.”

“I was just thinking it must be horrible for you,” he replied with a concern.

“You mean this?” I pointed at the loosely hanging pant leg.

“Yes. It feels like yesterday you were… whole.” He hesitated. “May I ask how it happened?”

“You may,” I said evenly, “but I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“It’s really a shame,” he continued, shaking his head. “You were so perfect.”

There it was. Not a concern for me, but a relief for himself. He was fucking glad, that he had not tied himself to damaged goods.

“I was never perfect to begin with,” I told him, leaning forward until he had no choice but to meet my eyes. “Now get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see you again.” I whispered.

He swallowed loudly, grabbed his tablet, and left without another word.

I let my focus drift outward, to a vision anchored on Liora’s body. He was still in the concrete jungle where I had sent him, where he was Tearing into the flesh of birds he had hunted between trees made of rebar and grey mass. According to Anansi, he had no intention of returning yet. He was fascinated by the violence with which he repainted the world.

That cloud serpent of mine and Penrose would have understood each other perfectly.

The door opened again, breaking the thread of my thoughts. The technician entered, carrying what looked disturbingly like my own leg from a week ago—only entirely white.

Earlier, he had scanned my stump with a portable device, measuring the exact line of amputation and the shape of the healed tissue. The prosthetic had already been printed; this session was about adjusting and fitting. Unlike full-body models, this one was supposed to have reinforced artificial bones embedded within to support weight.

Doctors told me in the hospital that I’d be able to wear a temporary prostheses around two weeks from now. And for many weeks following that, before transitioning to permanent one. My shadowlight and Authority though had accelerated the healing and the wound had scarred cleanly and fully. Whether that would interfere with potential regeneration remained uncertain. For now, it meant I could walk sooner. Which I appreciated after just few days of hobbling around.

“Can we check if it fits?” the technician asked, holding the leg carefully.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

I rolled up my pant leg and exposed the stump. The cut sat neatly below the knee, leaving me sufficient motor control.

He guided the socket toward me slowly and slid the stump inside. When the artificial foot touched the floor, I decided to test it and pushed myself up from the sofa.

“Whoa!” he shouted. “It’s not strapped! Don’t move or it’ll slip.”

I froze, adjusting only enough to stabilize. Even unstrapped, I could stand comfortably. When I shifted weight onto it, it held.

Good.

“Let me roll the strap up,” he said quickly. He uncoiled elastic material integrated into the prosthesis and drew it upward around my leg until it gripped firmly. “The lining uses a microfiber inspired by chameleon skin. This is a prototype scheduled for market release later this year. How does it feel?”

“Great,” I answered, flexing the joint experimentally. “No irritation, fits perfectly and holds damn well. It’s a masterpiece. Well done.”

I moved my leg forward, then sideways. The foot adjusted automatically, recalibrating its angle.

“What’s happening with the foot?” I asked.

“It’s mechanical. It responds to weight distribution and balance shifts. It’s not flawless yet, but it should assist natural walking.”

“It’s fantastic,” I said, lowering my pant leg back into place.

I took a step.

Then another.

The sensation was foreign but stable.

“I forgot to bring a second shoe,” I added dryly, pacing the room slowly on two legs. “Where can I see the full models? Are they ready?”

“Yes,” he said. “Your boss is finalizing the deal, but I can show them to you.”

“Lead the way,” I replied, thinking about the possibilities.

I would paint the leg to look natural, like my own skin. It would think it’s real, so my motor functions should be even better. But it is still a mechanical creation, so maybe it could be adjusted and upgraded to be something more. I was planning on visiting Victor with my new motorcycle and some Old Oak’s bark anyway, so he could make me an endless fuel tank, but maybe he’d also be interested in doing something cool with the leg as well.

“They are at the end of this hallway in a holding room. You will be organizing your own transport, right?”

“Yes. We will move it right away. I will wait for my boss, though.”

“Right away? With what?”

“Magic.” I replied, and he laughed.

“Magic?” he asked when he saw me being serious. It was easier being scary and serious while posing as Gertrude Monkey. She just was that way.

“Yes. Have you heard about it before? It’s what our company offers. Magical solutions to ordinary and extraordinary problems.” I told him, happy that I didn’t have to pretend and think around the problem for once. Sophie was right that making a company like that was a good idea. Whether they remembered or not how we dealt with this was their problem. Hiding the full extent of my power and my identity was a good idea, but not using magic at all wasn’t.

Today was a good day to prove that.

He opened the door to the big and spacious room and I immediately saw the statues, figures, or prints. Whatever I would call them, they were still amazing. Most were my own size, with just a few proposed alterations. Three were smaller and of those, two were meant for Anansi and one for myself, portrayed as a seer.

I would not put Zoe at risk anymore when hunting for soulmarks or organizing them in my book.

And the biggest—literally—outlier was the last model I requested. My secret weapon, that would require a lot of work to paint properly, but with so many bodies around, it would be a good exercise in control.

“You are already here,” Sophie said as she came into the room. “And on two legs.”

“Yes. They did great.”

“You can leave us alone.” She turned to the technician, who lingered with his gaze for just a few more seconds, then went out, closing the doors behind him. “There are cameras in here. Do we care?”

“Is it paid for?” I asked back, placing my hand on the giant figure.

“Yes, fully,” she replied, looking at the same creature. “I imagined a centaur to look otherwise.”

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“Funny,” I told her, and with a touch sent it into my Domain’s bedroom and the workshop building, my Art Palace.

“So we do not care after all. They are going to keep wondering what happened here.”

“You left them a business card. We do not hide that we offer magic, right? That’s what I told the technician.”

“I did leave the card,” she answered as I started walking around and sending each and every printed statue to my Domain. They were here one second and gone in just a single breath. That would give anyone watching this a real head-scratcher. “I am not sure any of them took it seriously.”

“Either outcome is good for us. If they are sleepers, what I am doing right now would be changed to match whatever Reality wants them to think. If they are awake, they might come to us with some job later on.”

“That’s the idea, yes. How does it feel to walk on that thing?”

“I will make it real later on, but even now it’s pretty nice,” I told her, touching the last model of me. It was the one that underwent the most significant changes from the moment of taking a scan.

“This one has a penis.” Sophie made an educated observation.

“Oh really? Are you sure? You must have seen one of those before then?” She burst with laughter.

“Yeah, maybe even a few too many. Why does it have it? Why does it look like a male version of you?” she asked, coming closer, and I paused my send-off.

“I’d used a male disguise a few times before in my life. Constricted breasts with tape, made my features more masculine with makeup. Short wig for hair. It was for jobs where a woman would stick out immediately in the crowd. And since I could do it more professionally right now, I decided to make this one for situations like this.”

“Good thinking. He is quite handsome too.”

“That unfortunately is important. Being pretty helps open doors. And also he is based on me, so obviously he is a handsome fella.”

“There are a lot of scars on the model.”

“He is a battle-tested man who survived a lot. And he will have to do more still. I have a difficult task for him.”

“That is?”

“He will be the one who deals with the man that cost me a leg.”

“At least you won’t be in direct danger anymore.”

“Hopefully,” I replied, sending Alex Weatherlight’s body to my Domain.

“You have a painting session ahead of you, right?” she asked, and I nodded. “Can you send me to the office then?”

“Sure.”

**********

“You will be first,” I told Anansi as I sat in front of her spider model on my desk.

The hiss began softly as I shook the can at the same time.

A thin veil of white mist settled over her back, clinging to the delicate arches of her legs. I moved in slow circles, wrist steady, letting the paint drift rather than drown her fully.

I switched cans to a warmer, almost luminous ivory, which I layered along the curve of her abdomen and the outer edges of the rabbit ears. The different whites caught the light differently: pearl along the joints, chalk along the underbelly, a faint opalescent sheen across the crown of this strange hybrid head. She began to slowly look less like a model and more like a creature taken straight out of my dreams.

Overspray dusted my fingers. My breath fogged faintly in the cloud of pigment. I lowered myself to reach beneath her and finish the underbelly with a hint of something darker.

When the body was complete, I set the white cans aside.

For the eyes, I chose black.

Not gray. Not softened charcoal.

Black.

Like the holes I loved to paint.

I leaned in close and painted them by hand, filling each tiny orb until they swallowed the light instead of reflecting it. Against the layered whites, the eyes became voids—two silent doors into something older and sharper. I was creating a myth here. It was only proper she’d be seen as mystical.

When I stepped back, Anansi looked holy and dangerous all at once. A creature of snow and shadow.

“What!?” I shouted to myself as she jumped onto my chest, breaking my balance and dropping me onto the floor. “…the fuck.” I finished my thought, sprawled on the ground, while her new body stood on top of me, sucking in rainbow-colored shadowlight.

“Excuse me. I could not wait.” She answered, moving her little legs one by one, skittering on my body happily before jumping off me. “I decided to send your power into my body on my own. I hope I did not… overstep?” she said, giggling in a way that made her arachnid body shake. Her voice reminded me of myself when I was a bit younger.

“No. I’d send it toward you anyway.”

“I know! I can still hear your thoughts.”

“It feels weird to me not to hear you in my soul directly.”

“You won’t beat me in weirdness. I have a body, while I never had one before.”

“Did you forget about the experiment we did before?”

“It wasn’t a real body, Alexa, you know it!” she shouted, jumping from the floor onto my makeup desk and looking at herself in the mirror, raising a few frontal legs and waving to herself.

“Okay, now that I have you around, you may help me with stuff, right?”

“Sure. It’s not like I was confined to your soul since the moment of my creation, and the very minute I get my own body I am given a task or some duty, right? Who in my position would have dreamt of some free me-time to explore my capabilities and senses.”

“Are you making a strike? You serious?”

“Yeah. Sorry, but I am not sorry.” She said and went out of the building.

“I know you can hear me, even when you are outside.”

[No, I can’t.]

“Whatever. I will do it myself. Enjoy your vacation, till you can.”

I would need to paint her and every other model I create here into my spellbook for quick summoning to me—and to them, for that matter. Besides being people, they would still be artistic creations, and with a proper anchor I could do it both ways.

Wait a second. I can do it both ways! I always could. That means that me forcing the world to move could just as well be me moving to a place of my choosing. Not that it changes the final outcome, since a place is connected to everything around it, but still—it is kind of funny that I am so full of myself that I went with this way as my default movement.

I whistled under my nose as that thought left me.

It was time for my first persona to become her own thing, and despite my undying love for Jess Hare, the first alternate identity I created for myself, it would be Trudy who would take the podium. She was sturdier and battle-ready, and I needed someone to run a few errands of that kind first.

I moved to her model. She looked like me, but the face was sharper, the jawline more defined, the brow slightly heavier. Not grotesque—just edged toward masculine strength. The breasts were a size fuller than mine had ever been, balanced against thicker thighs and a frame that carried more muscle across the shoulders and abdomen. It was still me. Just… edited and optimized.

I shook the first can and began with the skin. A soft, fair tone—clean and even. I worked methodically, covering the printed texture, erasing the faint manufacturing grain beneath layers of smooth pigment. Just uninterrupted, pale clarity.

I stepped closer, refining the contours of the altered muscles, letting subtle shadow define the new strength in her thighs and arms. The fuller chest received careful blending so it looked intentional and not exaggerated.

I moved to the back, where I recreated the tattoo that was on my own. Minus the additional power, of course, but the anchoring functionality would work for it just as well. Around it I added my sp-eye-ders too.

For the main set of eyes, I switched to a clear, bright blue reminiscent of Zoe’s hues. I painted them steady and sharp, giving them a focus that felt almost confrontational.

Finally, the hair.

Short and brown. I kept the color rich but natural, matte rather than glossy.

When I stepped back, I saw what the artist at DigiMaps helped me create—and what I alone had finished.

She looked like me after choosing power over finesse.

“Here it comes,” I whispered to myself, exhaling all the air. I’d finally know what it meant to be more than one, and it wasn’t something I could do lightly.

I closed my eyes with the intention of looking for her within my aura, but there was no looking required—she stood bright like a small sun, right in front of me. An artistic creation like no other before, ready to take a first breath as soon as my Authority reached her.

I established a link and let it go through.

Gertrude Monkey

I thought it would feel stranger to occupy the foreign body, but it felt as if nothing changed at all. It was just me and Gertrude together, like when I once decided to become Elle. I was both Alexandra and Gertrude, both separate and unified in our shared existence. I was behind her thoughts and senses, seeing it all through her eyes, her perspective, and her mannerisms, and I liked it.

I caught myself as soon as the primary consciousness left the body. Alexa fell as the Authority that made her move left her. It was too much for her soul, and even though we were within the presence of the soul core, it would be a while for that Authority to fill her back up. In the meantime I held almost all of it, and the core was filling me to the brim as well. I was Gertrude, but Alexa too. I was both of them in this body while I carried my original one toward the bed in the bedroom.

I lowered her slowly, and when she hit the sheet, I touched her pants and sent them away toward the floor of the bedroom. Then I reached for the artificial leg and slowly rolled the strap off, removing the prosthesis from the stump, while my additional brain started analyzing the soul depletion.

Why was I conscious when she let me live, when her body dropped due to exhaustion? Shouldn’t I be unconscious as well?

[It’s not like that. A soul is not a resource in the same manner as fuel. It’s more like a muscle. You can exert a certain amount of power in the form of Authority from it, but if it is you squeeze too much in one singular attempt it will snap, and that’s why Alexa’s body dropped. It’s the one that works that way. When Authority comes back to it, it fills it like energy does a muscle, but it also heals the tears that were created with use. Each use provides an essence of Authority that in turn allows the soul and the core to grow. You in Gertrude’s body are working differently. You are on borrowed Authority from Alexa’s soul.]

“Borrowed?” I whispered back to Anansi as I placed the artificial leg on the desk and went to the closet to dress myself.

[Yes. I mean, you are still connected, so she would supply you with a constant stream of Authority when you use some, but in your case the body you are using is just a tank. It fills with Authority, and if you deplete all of it, you will cease to function at all until Alexa jump-starts you again. Is that clear?]

“Yes, it is,” I answered, putting on the cargo pants already. “Even me moving and breathing seems to tire the soul a bit,” I noticed, but it felt negligible.

[Every action you or anything else you animate requires some Authority, and as long as it is connected to you—You, meaning Alexa—it will take that energy from you or any other form of gaining energy normally available to it.]

“Like eating, or sun energy, or burning oxygen?”

[Yes. But since your resonance level is pretty high, you are very efficient in providing this energy to every one of your creations.]

“So I am now both artificial and biological? Can I eat?” That was something I’d need to try, but there was also an easier way to check. Through the repainted tattoo on my back I summoned Ghostflame to my hand and pressed its blade to my skin, cutting it open and leaving a thin red line of blood on it.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was quite shocking. My magic had made a piece of 3D-printed material living flesh.

“I get it. It’s pretty strange, but also obvious in how it follows what I already knew about my magic. Thanks for the help, spidey.”

[You are welcome. It’s my job as an anima.]

“But you are on vacation, so thanks anyway.” I said back to her, grabbed a backpack, and stuffed the artificial leg inside. It was time to visit Victor Bohr. I was glad, though, that both Anansi and Alexa would have some time to rest in the meantime.

Even if it’s just partially.