Ryan was glad he had taken the time to do some reading. The next chapter in The Deep Astral was about repairing damaged nodes. The book broke the Astral Realm into layers. The layer that most closely interacted with the real world was called the Superficial. The way the book described the Superficial Layer was as if were made up of different cells, the size of which were predicated on the density of the population around them. Something about the way the human mind operated had a direct effect on the realm of the Astral. The author postulated that the accumulation of psychic energy was responsible for the formation of the Astral Realm, and that shared cultural beliefs would synergize and reinforce the cell walls.

For the most part the book tried to approach things scientifically and it attempted to steer clear of any associations with the occult. It only provided information based on the evidence and experiences of those who had a direct interaction with the Astral, and even then, it was careful to point out subjectivity and bias. The cells that made up the astral were held together by a central “locus” that prevented them from dispersing. Damage to those nodes could cause the Astral realm to either dissipate harmlessly or, in the case of the Crisis, emerge into reality. The latter were predicated by Astral Tears, or rips in reality, that would allow the Astral energy to bleed through, and if they were not repaired in time could cause a catastrophic reaction with neighboring cells, leading to Astral Incursions.

The locus itself took on primordial shapes, the complexity of which were related to the size of the population in the area they were adjacent to. If they became misshapen or shattered that would cause an Astral Tear, and the first Astral Travelers had discovered that if they willed the shapes back into the proper form, the locus would stabilize, and the fissure would close.

“How hard can it be to mold a shape with my mind?” Ryan said to the room. “I guess I won’t know until I try.” He was in his pajamas now, having gone through his evening routine, and he toned the lighting down in his room to about the same temperature as the candlelight from Lisa’s. He set his book down and picked up the Concentrated Firmament from his nightstand. He began to examine it more closely.

As he watched the ever-moving clouds of milky light swirl within the orb he realized this was the first time he’d ever really looked at it without his goggles on. There was something about edges of the orb that he hadn’t quite noticed before, like they pushed away the world, like it had an event horizon just along its curve. He felt it growing heavier in his grip, as if it wanted to drop right through the world, and pull him with it. There was a tickle in the center of his forehead that Ryan was only semi-conscious of, so absorbed was he with the little marble in his palm. He closed his eyes.

Taking a cue from the guided meditation earlier that day he imagined a renewing energy entering his lungs and the excess negativity flowing out. As he focused on his breath, he felt a thought drift up from the depths of his mind. Our dreams predict the future. If we control our dreams, we control the future. He let the thought go and kept focusing on his breath. He felt tension he didn’t even know was there melt from his shoulders, his arms, his legs, and even his face. His expression became slack. He turned his mind’s eye toward creating an image of his Eidolon. He had thought that it would be difficult, as its core always seemed to be in a state of flux, but to his surprise the image became vividly clear almost instantly. He could feel its pulse in his palm, its vibrational hum, and in his mind, he saw it clearly mimicking the feeling. The distinctness of the object in his mind contrasted so starkly with the dark canvas he had painted it on that it reminded him of—

—the moon shone high above through a break in the dark clouds. The ocean roared as the tide swept in. He tasted the salt of the sea on his tongue. A cold wind pressed against his face as Ryan descended the now familiar stairwell. A light mist, white under the moonlight, posed a stark contrast against the black seascape as it hovered above the sand in wisps. It looked like the ghostly apparition of wave crests had transposed themselves upon the sandy beach.

Ryan stepped upon the sand, feeling the granules fill in between his toes as his feet sank slightly with his weight. He took his hand from the cold steal guardrail and moved forward. A beam of light from the moon shone down upon a pillar of dark granite that sat amid a clearing within the misty shore. The fog danced around it like the inner world of the Concentrated Firmament's core. Ryan looked up at the “moon" and saw instead of craters and valleys its surface was an ever-changing landscape of vaporous incandescence. The light bathed him in a glow that ignited his soul.

Energized he turned his attention back to the beach and the pillar. It was no longer a pillar, but a child robed in the moonlight, sitting with a large book in his lap. Ryan entered the clearing, and the boy looked up, face pale and illuminated, and he said:

“Put the book in your lap, and the orb in your hand.”

“The book?” Ryan asked, entranced by the glowing countenance.

“Read the words of other worlds undefined. Gain a new perspective.” The boy pointed up, and the moon began to twirl, and around it the gray clouds began to whirl, a funnel forming. A tempest fomenting. He felt the spin begin to grab him. Around and around until he was—

Flung out! Ryan floated there in his room again. Saw himself sitting on his bed with legs crossed, shoulders slumped, and a piercing light glowing near his stomach where he cupped the orb of Concentrated Firmament. He saw a line drifting from his body towards his floating form.

He understood he needed to realize his Astral Self and strengthen that tether. He considered what Lisa was really trying to teach him. Densification. He felt weightless and without substance. Ryan tried to recreate an image in his mind of what he thought he looked like. He thought about his hands and feet, his arms and legs, his torso, neck and head. He could feel them becoming, but when he looked down it was like looking at his PerSpectives when camouflaged.

He thought about the orb then. Specifically, about the strangeness of its edges, how they were entirely separated from reality more distinctly than any object he'd ever seen. He projected the feeling that gave him into his mental image of self and then, looking down, he saw a new distinctiveness to his form. He clasped his hands together and sensed the contact. He patted his new Astral Body down, feeling the pressure of his body push back against his touch. The tether to his body had become more distinct and vibrant.

He decided he was ready to try and leave his room, so Ryan let himself drift upward, through the ceiling, then attic, and roof until he was hovering over his neighborhood. Stars poked through the mostly overcast sky, but streetlamps were the primary source of light, glowing orbs of light bursting from underneath them in the light drizzle that still drifted through the air.

Ryan turned in the direction of his school as he ascended higher. The three-story building stood was easy to spot, not only because it was one of the larger buildings in the area, but also because there was a strange aurora gently pouring up from it before dissipating into the night sky. Ryan began to move in that direction, watching the rooftops pass swiftly under him. In almost no time at all he found himself hovering over the roof of the school, the iridescent lights of the aurora now before him. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to touch it. Instead, he sank down through the ceiling, all the way to the first floor.

He was in that familiar hallway. The air shuddered as if it were made of liquid. Rapid, quivering pulses, emanating from the room he had been dreaming of. The aurora wasn’t visible from here, but he could almost sense it through the walls. He approached the janitor’s closet and could see tiny hair fractures lancing out from it as he got closer, like the world was made out of glass, and it was about to break. He wasn’t sure what would happen when he passed the threshold of the door. He couldn’t see through it but knew that he would be going right up against the source of the fissure. This was what he had come he for, however, so he steeled himself and moved inward.