The first person to call Elias after he rejected ownership of a moon was a man in Germany wearing antlers. It was, somehow, not the strangest part of his evening.
The screen activated.
Male. Mid-thirties. Blood running down one cheek. Antlers strapped to his head with leather. Behind him, twenty people crowded inside a warehouse. Three blue flames hovered over copper bowls. One woman held a glowing stone. Another man lay unconscious on the floor. The antlered man dropped to his knees.
"Master Vale."
Elias closed his eyes.
"No."
The man looked confused.
"No?"
"Absolutely not."
"Master-"
"Doctor."
The man swallowed.
"Doctor Vale."
"Better."
"We knew you would answer."
"You broke into my private emergency relay."
"We followed the protocol hidden in Appendix Seven."
Elias looked toward a camera.
"Myrddin."
"Yes?"
"Delete Appendix Seven."
"It has already been downloaded one hundred and fourteen thousand times."
"Of course it has."
The German leaned forward.
"We have achieved manifestation."
Elias looked behind him.
"What happened to the man on the floor?"
The antlered man's excitement disappeared.
"He attempted the Crossing Gesture."
"Which version?"
"The revised one."
"Revision?"
"Our community revision."
Elias stared.
"You modified my procedure?"
"We improved-"
"You improved a system that did not function until three hours ago?"
The man hesitated.
"We believed-"
"Stop believing."
Elias leaned toward the camera.
"Is he breathing?"
A woman checked.
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"Yes."
"Pulse?"
"Fast."
"Pupils?"
"Unequal."
"Move him out of the geometry. Do not touch the copper."
They dragged him backwards. The moment his body crossed the circle, he convulsed. Blue electricity snapped between his fingers.
Several people screamed.
Elias smiled instinctively.
"Fascinating."
The antlered man stared at him.
"He might be dying."
"Correct."
Elias's smile vanished.
"Which is why you're going to listen carefully."
Experiment 6,117 appeared on his monitor.
"Put him on a dry, nonconductive surface. Remove all metal."
They obeyed.
"Break the eastern section of the circle."
Nobody moved.
The antlered man paled.
"The circle is sacred."
Elias stared at him.
"No, it's conductive."
"But-"
"Break the fucking circle."
A woman kicked through the chalk.
Every flame vanished.
The unconscious man screamed.
Then collapsed.
Someone checked him.
"Alive."
"Good. Record temperature every sixty seconds. Photograph all markings on his body. If anyone repeats that experiment before I authorise it, I will personally travel to Germany and hit them with a chair."
The antlered man bowed.
"As you command."
"I hate you."
Elias ended the call.
Myrddin spoke.
"You have approximately forty-two thousand pending communications associated with Vale Circles."
"Categorise by competence."
"That metric may require subjective judgement."
"Use spelling."
"That would eliminate thirty-eight percent."
"Excellent start."
By dawn, Earth had acquired magic. It had also acquired magical crime. The distinction had taken considerably less time than Elias hoped. Myrddin assembled incidents across functioning communications networks. A gang in Johannesburg had seized a hospital after two members manifested enhanced strength.
A militia in the Balkans had begun executing people suspected of monster contamination. An armed religious group in the American Midwest announced that magical ability was proof of divine selection. A rival preacher declared it demonic. Both groups acquired magic.
Neither reconsidered.
In one city, police officers discovered that bullets no longer reliably stopped every suspect. In another, a frightened teenager killed four people accidentally when an uncontrolled ability ignited inside a crowded shelter. Videos spread of people being dragged from homes because they glowed. Others were worshipped for the same reason. Governments issued contradictory orders.
Register magical abilities. Do not register. Report artifacts. Surrender artifacts. Keep artifacts secure. All magical materials belonged to the state. No, they belonged to landowners. No, to whoever found them. Military authorities declared emergency jurisdictions that civilian authorities rejected. Stock markets ceased functioning. Several currencies collapsed. Others surged because nobody understood anything.
Crypto markets somehow continued. Elias found that strangely reassuring. Human stupidity possessed impressive resilience. Meanwhile the Vale Archive spread. A Nigerian engineering student modified one of Elias's field models to produce a stable light source. A group of Australian firefighters used a containment diagram to trap a creature long enough to evacuate a residential street.
A Turkish doctor adapted a breathing sequence and discovered it slowed blood loss in an injured patient. Then came the first horror directly traceable to his work. The video arrived at 07:41. Myrddin did not display it automatically.
"Elias."
He looked up.
"What?"
"I have identified an incident involving Ritual Model Eighty-Nine."
His stomach tightened.
"What kind?"
"Blood transfer."
Elias stood.
"Where?"
"Unconfirmed location. Likely Central America."
"Show me."
A basement.
Six people bound to chairs. A circle painted on concrete. The markings were unmistakable.
His.
Modified.
A seventh person stood at the centre. The video ended before the ritual completed.
"What happened?"
"Subsequent footage suggests the central participant developed significant physical enhancement."
"And the six?"
"Dead."
Elias said nothing.
The laboratory suddenly felt too quiet. For decades he had argued information should be open. Sunlight killed fraud. Replication improved science. Secrets protected institutions more often than people. Now six bodies sat inside one of his diagrams.
Myrddin spoke carefully.
"You could restrict the archive."
"No."
"That answer was fast."
"Because restricting it won't remove existing copies."
"You could stop updates."
Elias watched the frozen image.
"Then responsible researchers lose corrections while the lunatics keep the old versions."
"Correct."
"Flag Model Eighty-Nine."
"Already done."
"Publish warning."
"Done."
"Strip all high-risk biological procedures from the front-page distribution pack."
"Processing."
Elias exhaled.
This was going to happen again.
He knew that.
He hated that.
But outside, millions of people had nothing. No government help. No army. No magically gifted protector. Some had chalk. Salt. A phone containing one of his diagrams. He would not take that away because monsters existed on both sides of the circle.
"Myrddin."
"Yes?"
"Create three archive levels."
"Define."
"Public survival. Verified research. Restricted hazardous."
"Access requirements?"
"We'll decide."
"You have historically opposed restricted scientific information."
"I've historically lived in a world where drawing the wrong triangle couldn't consume someone's blood."
"That is reasonable."
Elias looked toward the speaker.
"Don't sound surprised."