Another two years passed. Now Oman, sixteen years of age, stood before the Seer Deacia. He had shown her Crystarr and said that, while a fine weapon, it didn't seem like a weapon that could control the flow of reality.
"It seems to be dormant still." Deacia had said after examining it. "Perhaps it is triggered by age - it may judge you as still immature to wield it fully."
"What age must I be?" Oman had asked.
"The spell varies. Sixteen, eighteen and twenty-one are often popular. But I may be wrong. Perhaps the trigger lies elsewhere."
"Where?"
"Destiny. Circumstance. Even it's own spirit. The legend says that its core was created at the same forge where the Goddess created the blade that cut through the eternal night and released the Dawn of Existence."
"You believe that?"
"Who knows? It is said, though, that the weapons made at that forge have a purpose of their own. Some even claim that they wield warriors rather than the other way round..."
"Oman." Oman's recollection was broken as Deacia called to him.
"I'm ready if you are." Deacia was preparing a seance, contacting four entities from the ethereal plane of her world. She had chosen four spirits that she not only trusted but called friends. Who invokes the four Wandering Souls?
"I am Deacia, Seer and Priestess of the Mother of our World." Deacia indicated to Oman.
"And this is Oman, wielder of the Golden Spear." Merry Meet, Deacia. And welcome, Oman. We are the Wanderers. In life we were four warrior brothers dedicated to the protection of the king we served. Now, as spirits, we wander the ethereal plane assisting those who seek our help for the good of all. I was Ark, one who connected the four to the world through emotion. I was Chion, one who fought with the beauty of chaotic order. I was Sharve, one who foresoke all but my warrior art. I was Extrial, one who embraced the light and darkness of our soul and kept balance. Oman took a step forward. "I need to know of my destiny. I've been shown repeatedly that I have a task in front of me, but I don't know what it is." You are the child borne of the woman named Cradle, are you not?, asked Extrial.
"Yes." If the evil force of Tyryft is held back by a door, then you are the key. Perhaps you will unlock the door and let loose the evil. Or perhaps you will fasten the lock completely, forever sealing the evil from your world.
"Will I succeed in stopping him?"
Destiny is like a book, one which you write every moment of your life. Now it was Sharve speaking. There is no power in existence that can see how it will turn out until the moment the last chapter is completed. The best we... BEWARE! Chion's bestial voice echoed throughout the room, startling Oman and Deacia. Something approaches uninvited...
"One such as I needs no invitation, Wanderer." If a voice could decay over centuries as a physical body could, then the new voice could have been buried beneath the soil since the beginning of recorded time.
"I don't know who you are, but no one enters my invocation unpermitted." Deacia snapped. She drew a glowing pentagram in the air with one finger. Before it was completed though, there was a flash of violet light and the Seer went flying into a wall.
"I enter where I wish, little girl." The newcomer mocked.
"On your knees, thief." Oman frowned.
"Thief?"
"Heh heh...of course, you don't recognise me....you were but a babe when you stole that body that was rightfully offered to me." Oman's eyes widened, and he felt terror clamp around his heart. "Tyryft..."
"Believe it, boy. It has been sixteen years in the making, but finally I will have a physical presence once more...and a weapon that may even wreak my revenge on the cursed Eternity's Dawnrazor..." Never, Gothim. Chion's voice howled Malekai is already causing too much harm. We will not permit you to increase the damage caused.
"Ha! As if you could stop me!" Oman's body suddenly exploded with pain. He arched his spine and twisted as Tyryft violated his very soul. Stop!Hold, Gothim!
Oman felt another grip on his soul. The four souls had taken a hold on him, and were trying to pull him from Tyryft's grip. The pain was greater than Oman had ever imagined he could feel and still live. But he could feel himself slip towards the intruder.
Damn you, Tyryft!
"Temper, Temper."
Release him!
"And give up such a precious victory? You are fighting a losing...WHAT THE?!" Tyryft had felt Oman's pain, indeed had revelled in it. But Oman had suddenly seemed to pass out, and something else had taken the place of his soul. "What's happening..?" It is you who fights the losing battle. "Who the hell are you?" It is this boy's destiny to one day wield me against evil. But that day is far in the future, and I will not allow you to jeopardise it. No matter the sacrifices that must be made. Wanderers, I apologise. I have no choice…

Several hours later, Oman awoke. Something was wrong. He felt different somehow. Depression weighed on him heavily, and he couldn't help but feel…detached somehow.
'What's happened?'
'WHO'S THERE?'
"Wha..? What was that?" Oman gasped. The voice sounded more like telepathy than any voice from Deacia's séance. As he started to get up, he felt…something try and take control of his body.
"Tyryft...damn you!"
'Damning yourself, bastard?'
'Cease!'
"Oman.." The last voice wasn't in Oman's head, but came from a battered-looking Deacia.
"Deacia! There's something..."
"I know. I don't know how, but somehow the four spirits I called up were used to repel the intruder that assaulted you. They got mixed up with your own soul, and split up your own self into four. It's kind of like possession by multiple demons, except each of the four is you, Oman…or at least an aspect of you." Something in Oman's eyes changed. Confusion was replaced by rage, and he grabbed Deacia by the throat. "Damn it! Get us back to normal right now or…" The anger faded and was replaced by a calm, quiet look. "I apologise." Deacia grinned. "Quite alright, Sharve."
"Sharve?"
"Well, in some respects, each of you four aspects will be similar to one of the four spirits. You are calm and professional, so I would assume that you came from Sharve. The first one of you seemed almost overwhelmed by emotion, like Ark. The second was animal like, driven by instinct and anger, much as Chion tended to act. I have not seen your fourth aspect, but the process of elimination leaves Extrial, who was the darker and most magically inclined of the four." Deacia paused. "Perhaps from this point on, the four of you should go by these four names rather than your given name. Otherwise, things would get confusing." Sharve nodded. Then he cocked his head slightly, as if he were listening to a voice Deacia couldn't hear…which he probably was.
"Yes, you are correct. Miss Deacia.." Sharve ignored Deacia's giggle at his choice of address. "Chion has pointed out that Extrial has yet to make himself known. In fact, he can sense him in conversation with an external force."
"Does he know what?"
"I'm not sure that would be...I have your promise? Very well." Sharve's face frowned and his eyes grew darker.
"Chion?" Deacia asked. Chion nodded. He looked around the room, sniffing the air. "Something close. It's...THIS!" Chion thrust forward Crystarr. "He's talking to this spear!"
"Hmmm..." Deacia considered. "Crystarr communicated with Oman normally, because Oman had an unusually magical nature. If Extrial represents the part of him that is magical…then maybe he's the only one of you capable of hearing Crystarr." Chion's frown softened into an expression Deacia was unsure of. Was that a sneer or a grin?
"You are right, Seer. I apologise, Chion, but I have some information that we all should hear."
'What says the spear, brother?' asked Sharve in Extrial's head, ignoring some unflattering comments from the animal-like Chion.
"Deacia was correct - it is I who represents the most magical part of the boy Oman, and I who am the only one of us capable of hearing, or even wielding it. The spear apologises for our situation. It's goal was to prevent Tyryft from destroying us totally. It has come up with a...partial solution." There was a short pause.
"If you'll be silent, Chion, then maybe I can finish." snapped Extrial. "There is no way for our shattered soul to be returned to normal like this. Crystarr suggests that we proceed in the opposite way."
"Opposite way?" asked Deacia.
"Rather than attempt to meld the four aspects together, the spear suggests separating ourselves completely - in soul and body."
'Wait a second, Extrial.' Ark whispered from a corner of Oman's mind. 'You're not saying....we've been split into four different personalities…and you want to make it WORSE?!'
"Consider it, Ark. Which would really be worse? Four brothers of the same age, or four people trapped in a mind and body meant only for one?"
'Brother....' Sharve said coolly. 'You are attempting to sell us this idea, but you have yet to reveal how you intend to achieve it.'
"Crystarr has knowledge of spells, worlds and other information it is willing to share with us. It has already shown me how to execute the Starsling spell."
'OK, now you've lost me.' Chion's voice betrayed a growing impatience. 'Tell us what the hell you're talking about or shut the hell up!'
"Will you be silent?!" Extrial yelled.
"A-hem!" Deacia interrupted. "Chion, think of it this way. If Extrial's plan works, you won't have to share bodies with the others for too long.
"Thank you, Seer." Extrial smiled after a pause. "Chion has backed down. Now, as I was saying, Starsling is essentially a teleportation spell. Crystarr's original Mistress used it to travel between worlds. She was able to navigate by using the energy of her own soul. Once this energy had reached its destination, it would reconstruct the body. Now, the energy of each aspect of Oman's soul is a little different, so.....yes, Ark, that is correct. Using this spell, we would begin the journey as one, yet end it as four." Deacia nodded. "When do you wish to begin?" Extrial winced. "As soon as possible. If our head was a room, Chion would be climbing the walls."