Lub was no longer surprised when the boy appeared. He still grumbled and acted annoyed, but Max could see the truth: the old dwarf enjoyed speaking with someone from the living world and learning something new. The boy carried many secrets. Lub did not understand how he moved so easily through the Otherworld, and he never tried to scan his soul. It was as if he felt ashamed to even consider it. At the same time, he sensed that it was better not to know. A quiet warning inside him suggested that uncovering that secret would lead to trouble. Curiosity and unease fought within him without end.

  For Lub, it had been an ordinary day. Exactly two days had passed since the “Unrest,” as he called the last time Max had come. That was when the library had suddenly filled with books in such numbers that Lub still struggled to believe it.

  Since then, the dwarf kept wondering whether he truly wanted the human to return. If the boy could enter so easily once, then he would surely come again – and bring more books. This time, Lub decided one would not be enough. He would demand two. The words slipped out the moment the familiar figure appeared before him.

  “You owe me two humans!… I mean, two books!” the dwarf corrected himself quickly, closing his eyes as if to make the demand sound serious. In truth, he simply wanted more knowledge.

  Max looked down at him in surprise.

  “Uh… even if I just came to visit?”

  “And do you, human, simply visit old Lub for pleasure?”

  “I asked you to call me Max. And no, you’re right. I need help…”

  “Two books!” Lub replied instantly.

  Just like before, Max brought two novels into existence from memory. In the Otherworld, it took only intention and a drop of energy for memories to become text. He did not understand how it worked, but the world of the dead allowed certain wishes to come true – if one had enough strength.

  Lub had already cleared a separate shelf for the books Max brought. With reverence, he placed the new volumes in their spot. Then he felt a familiar wave of energy. A passage was opening.

  This was nothing like Max’s arrival, when he simply appeared from nowhere. Now patterns wove themselves into the shape of a door. Threads of energy formed a frame and created a pathway. Lub recognized the sign at once.

  Filin.

  His doors were always old and unsettling. And they always brought bad news.

  Max watched with interest as the door rose in the center of the library. Apparently, even the floor had a special circle for such visits. He wondered if this was how one was meant to enter, rather than the way he did it – freely.

  Filin stepped inside. Black hair fell like a shadow over his pale face. His gaze swept across the library, paused on Lub, and then settled on Max. His eyes narrowed, and a crooked smile appeared on his lips.

  “And what is this new addition on your shelves, Lub?” His voice was deep and heavy. “I didn’t think you allowed outsiders to wander here so freely.”

  Lub shrank slightly and drew his head into his shoulders.

  “My concern is knowledge. And sometimes knowledge arrives in the form of people. You know me. Books matter more to me than anything.”

  Filin took a step closer to Max, and a chill ran down the boy’s spine, as if a shadow had brushed against his soul.

  “Boy…” the Messenger said slowly. “Are you certain you understand where you are?”

  Max opened his mouth to answer, but Lub cut him off.

  “That’s none of your business, Filin! Bring your news and leave my guest alone.”

  “Guest?” Filin let out a short sound that was almost a laugh. “You’re playing a dangerous game, old dwarf. How many secrets will you hide on your shelves before they catch fire?”

  Max felt unease settle in his chest, but he could not grasp what the two of them were hinting at. Their words carried something more.

  “So speak your news already, Filin,” Lub muttered, clearly irritated by the delay.

  “Then listen, and don’t interrupt.” The Messenger’s eyes flashed.

  He began to tell a story that Max had heard in fragments before, but now it formed a complete picture. At first, Max assumed it would be another strange tale from some distant plane of the Otherworld. But the longer Filin spoke, the colder his chest felt. By the end, Max sat frozen, barely able to breathe.

  The news was too important. This was not rumor. It was knowledge that could shift the balance of the world.

  Filin spoke of one of the planes within the War Dominion – a plane without a divine patron, ruled only by an Overlord. That plane had been taken. The Overlord had vanished. The divine soul that granted him power and kept the plane under control had also disappeared. Access to the world had sealed itself, as it always did when its master vanished.

  Such an event was nearly unheard of – so rare that even the Gods spoke of similar cases only in their oldest legends.

  Two opposing forces were already gathering their armies. The future balance between good and evil would depend on who claimed the unclaimed plane – and the mysterious divine soul imprisoned there.

  Max barely stopped himself from reacting. Unclaimed? He already knew that every plane always belonged to someone. He had created his own. That meant what the Messenger was describing concerned him directly. Still, he kept silent and listened.

  Filin continued, his voice low, with a trace of satisfaction at the effect his words had.

  “Everyone knew that Heron-va-Lai once held an ancient fury captive – Shana, Goddess of Wrath. Through her, the King of Citadels possessed the power that kept his plane stable for generations. But recently, the War Pantheon decided to change the course of events. Shana was released, and someone else was sealed in her place. The name is under the strictest secrecy.”

  Max could not hold back and carefully interrupted.

  “And if Heron-va-Lai is dead… could the prison have collapsed?”

  Filin looked at him, and this time there was less arrogance in his gaze and more thought.

  “Let us pray to every God that it did not. Because the one imprisoned there was no minor figure. They say it was the Goddess of Passion.”

  Max felt his throat go dry.

  “Passion,” the Messenger continued, “can reconcile sworn enemies… or turn the most loyal allies against each other. It can shake the foundations of the world itself. Too many beings believed in her and desired her power. Young – but dangerous. That is why her own allies sealed her away. If she were to break free, the consequences would be catastrophic.”

  The words struck Max like thunder.

  Goddess of Passion… Julia?

  The thought frightened him. Maybe he should return immediately and forbid her from leaving his plane – before it was too late, before she escaped and destroyed the world.

  Because Julia could. He felt it deep inside.

  When Filin, satisfied with the impact of his story, stepped back through his door to spread the news elsewhere, a heavy silence settled over the library. Lub and Max stood there like storm clouds about to break.

  Finally, the dwarf turned sharply.

  “Why are you so shaken? What do you know?”

  Max remained silent for a long moment, studying the old dwarf’s soul. Lub might be gruff, but he did not seem cruel. How could someone who kept such perfect order in an endless library be truly evil?

  “Tell me, Lub,” Max said quietly, “do you know how to protect a plane from an invading army?”

  The dwarf grabbed at his chest, as if feeling pain in a heart he no longer had. He feared this answer more than any secret. But he understood there was no avoiding it.

  For a while, Lub considered how much to reveal. Then he spoke.

  “Every plane has its heart and its ruler,” he said hoarsely. “The heart is the Overlord. The ruler is always a God. Their power – and their allies – are the only true defense.”

  “But how exactly do they defend it?”

  Lub let out a heavy breath.

  “Weavings,” he said. “Divine, layered structures. Living ones. Each has awareness and its own purpose. Some defend. Others destroy. But together, they keep planes from falling.”

  The dwarf sighed deeply and extended his hand.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “I need to see your ring. Your true ring. The main one that surrounds the magic core and gives you power.”

  Max did not resist.

  An orange ring flared to life on Lub’s hand, elegant and engraved with thousands of tiny runes, as if the dwarf had tried to carve all the knowledge of the world into it. Lub placed his hand against Max’s chest, and a wave of warm, astonishingly pleasant energy rolled through him. Max had never felt anything like it.

  Suddenly, a green ring of flesh appeared around Max’s left arm.

  He had not summoned it.

  “Impossible…” Lub murmured, repeating the word like a spell.

  “What exactly is impossible?” Max finally asked.

  The dwarf shook his head.

  “I only see your ring of flesh. It binds you to matter, but it does not grant the power to travel into the world of the dead. That does not match my suspicions. Unless…”

  He fell silent, then summoned his orange ring again. A new wave of energy surged through Max – stronger this time, deeper.

  “I see that your ring of flesh draws power from another source. From your soul? The other ring is not near your core – it embraces the soul itself. I did not know such a thing was possible. I have never seen anything like it.”

  Lub’s eyes sharpened.

  “Let us try to call it.”

  At once, a dark wind swept through the library. Dust rose into the air, and several old folios fell from the shelves with dull thuds. The space around them dimmed.

  Then the black ring appeared.

  It flashed across the floor like a moving shadow and settled beneath Max’s feet.

  Lub froze. His eyes widened, and cold fear ran down his spine. The ring had not formed around a magic core. It had manifested within the boy’s soul.

  If anyone discovered this… nothing would remain of Librarian Lub. A black ring was not just rare. It was a soul the entire cosmos would hunt. And Max looked so defenseless.

  The dwarf’s thoughts raced. What if Filin had suspected something? If he spoke to the wrong beings, this library would not survive.

  “Is everything all right?” Max asked quietly, studying the smooth dark circle. The energy within it flowed evenly and slowly, like a calm river. It did not feel like a curse. It did not feel like corruption. But why was it black?

  He touched Lub’s shoulder, and the dwarf seemed to snap out of it.

  “It is… a ring,” Lub said at last.

  He scanned the boy again with his most reliable techniques and felt only clarity. The soul was transparent. Bright.

  Then a grim thought crossed his mind: perhaps things could not become worse than they already were.

  “There is something that can help your plane,” Lub said finally. “But listen carefully. Do not use the power of words. If you do, you will be detected. And they will come for your power.”

  “The power of words?” Max frowned.

  “The oldest and strongest force of creation. A black ring is the sign of a God. And a God’s highest power is not the energy of a plane. It is the Word.”

  Lub hurried deeper into the library. Max followed, still trying to process what he had heard.

  The power of a God? Was he merely a conduit – or the God himself?

  The thought unsettled him. If it were true, the hunt would not be for him alone. Anyone close to him would be in danger.

  They walked for what felt like an eternity through narrow corridors. After twenty minutes, Lub turned into a locked section and struggled with a heavy key. Behind iron bars stood a row of ancient, dust-covered books, sealed in magically protected cases.

  The dwarf pointed to one.

  “There. The Book of Structures.”

  Max looked at the cover, inscribed with runes, and read the title at once.

  The Book of Sleeping Structures.

  Lub raised his brows.

  “So that is its name. I have never been able to read it.”

  He pulled out a notebook and hurriedly wrote the title down.

  “I can see the contents, but not the lines inside.”

  “Well,” Max stepped closer, “then I will try.”

  Lub whispered, almost fearfully, “Only the owner of a black ring can open it.”

  Max took the book and touched the cover. For a moment, he felt as if the pages trembled, as though the book itself had opened its eyes after a thousand-year sleep. It felt alive. Awake.

  From the first page, Max understood that every structure was a helper created for a single purpose. It directed energy toward that purpose with maximum efficiency and developed on its own according to its internal design. A large part of those structures was recorded in this book.

  “All structures in this book are unique. Each possesses its own immortal essence. If someone accepts a structure into their ring, it disappears from all Books of Sleeping Structures and returns only when erased from the ring, in accordance with the Law of Uniqueness. Only one structure may be accepted.”

  “Long ago, the young ancients used structures,” Lub said quietly. “They help you learn to direct energy. But look closely. There are almost no blank pages. Most structures are asleep. The Gods are either dead or long ago abandoned their structures.”

  “Abandoned?” Max repeated. In his mind, structures looked like complex weavings through which mages guided their magic.

  “When you learn to control your plane’s energy on your own, you no longer need a structure,” Lub replied.

  The list contained countless entries, each described differently.

  “Section One. Structures of Creation:

  Structure of Growth;

  Structure of Material Development…”

  “There!” Lub exclaimed, watching closely. “The symbols are changing at times. And the book is thicker than it was an eternity ago…” He sighed. “From what I know, you need the section of Defensive Structures. But remember this: maintaining a structure requires followers – living believers or souls of your plane who provide special energy. And it is best to choose a structure that matches your own energy. If you are a God of Life, structures of life will be stronger. The purer the energy of your plane, the more powerful the structure will become.”

  “A populated plane can support a structure at full strength,” Lub continued. “There may even be some energy left to manifest your words in the real world. Although… I would not recommend it. The power of creation will be felt. Enemies who do not even know you exist yet will sense it.”

  Max turned the pages. Whenever the book was in his hands, the text became clear only to him. The dwarf saw nothing but blank sheets.

  He read the description of one structure:

  “Protective Shell. Guards the astral body, the plane, and the soul. The shell’s power equals the amount of pure energy of the plane from which it is summoned. (Yes, you have two planes – independent comment from the book.)”

  “Can I take several structures?” Max asked aloud, not expecting a reply.

  But the book answered.

  “One structure per ring. Such is the law.”

  On another page, he saw an identical title: Protective Structure.

  The same name.

  “This structure directs energy differently and has a different nature.”

  “How is that possible?” Max frowned.

  “Long explanation.”

  “And how am I supposed to choose?” he muttered.

  The book flipped its own pages and stopped again.

  Protective Structure.

  “You’re mocking me,” Max said under his breath.

  “Yes. This one suits you better.”

  He disliked acting blindly. Max sat down on the dusty floor, raising a small cloud, and began to study every page in detail. He asked countless questions about different structures and types of energy. Lub stood nearby, swallowing his curiosity and saying nothing.

  The book described many structures that used specific types of energy. But some were missing. For example, there were very few that directed the energy of pain or fear, likely because those energies were too common in the universe. In contrast, there were many structures that worked with love and joy.

  One in particular caught Max’s attention.

  “Curse System powered by the energy of love.”

  How could love be used for curses?

  The description explained that it altered the universal magic of curses. For example, love enchantments. It could also allow followers to use curses as revenge for broken hearts. The owner of such a structure would gain terrifying power – a curse that could force anyone to fall in love. Of course, it required the energy of love.

  Max had not noticed much of that energy in his own plane.

  The book responded at once.

  “You are thinking incorrectly. Your ring allows you to use any energy. Purity of energy: one hundred percent.”

  Max frowned.

  One hundred percent?

  He remembered a conversation with Marvin. At one point, Marvin had mentioned that their Pantheon received nearly twenty percent of the energy of wrath, which was considered extremely high for a plane.

  Max looked at the book, waiting.

  “Accept this as fact. Your ring has no separate element. It has access to any energy.”

  That sounded promising. But it also meant he needed a structure that required pure energy.

  The book flipped again and stopped on the same Protective Structure.

  The hint was obvious.

  Still, Max had one more question.

  In the new plane ruled by strict Vialon – where flawless order reigned without conflict – another type of energy dominated. A special one.

  The book answered before he even fully formed the thought.

  “She joined your Pantheon voluntarily. Her plane did not arise by accident – it was created with her consent. You may draw any energy from your own plane, but her plane will yield only the energy of her element.”

  “How much energy does she receive?” Max asked carefully.

  “The second plane generates twelve percent of passion energy. Its population is much smaller, so the total output is limited.”

  Limited – for now.

  Considering how quickly Vialon was building that second plane, it would not remain small for long.

  Passion.

  Julia.

  Max needed to speak with her.

  Did she even know who she truly was?

  He had watched Julia for a long time. Aside from her pranks and mischief, little seemed to trouble her. But now, everything felt different.

  Right now, he needed maximum protection for both planes, which he now felt were part of his Pantheon.

  As if reading his thoughts, the book opened again to the same page with the Protective Structure.

  Persistent thing.

  Max leaned closer. The diagrams were so complex that even the flesh technique he once considered advanced now seemed primitive. These structures touched subtle layers of existence and forces so refined that unraveling their runes and interwoven lines looked like work for years – perhaps a lifetime.

  But he did not have years.

  Fortunately, transferring the structure proved simple. It tore itself from the page and flowed into his ring.

  Max held his breath.

  Countless symbols and patterns ignited across the surface of the black ring, spreading almost along its entire circumference. The structure felt vast and layered, almost overwhelming in its depth.

  “Structure integrated with your ring. The structure itself exists within the Plane of Universal Laws.”

  The words appeared on the page.

  “Can I replace it later?” Max asked quickly. “What if someday I need development instead of defense?”

  The book responded without hesitation.

  “Yes. And no. When your plane reaches true order, return. We will meet again very soon. Plus or minus one thousand years.”