Category: complete stories

Cover artwork by @clya_lyren
Story written by “Jungle”

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Traveling by horseback is a decent enough way to get around the Emerald Ring. Not everyone would agree with me, though. A Darterfly or a reliable ship would make for a shorter trip in most cases. A team of Mirwolves could run just as fast and they wouldn’t fall prey to some of the predators that prowled the forests of the Eastern Wilds.

So why was I bothering with a horse? Simply put, convenience is kingly.

My horse was such in shape and function only. Surely no real horse could race along as fast as a falling arrow flung from afar while making less sound than a tumbleweed rolling along the slope of a dune in the desert sun. Better still, this horse was always at my side, even when it wasn’t. My faithful shadow, always one step behind me.

The beaten paths we floated over seemed seldom used, but the overgrowth yielded to an unseen force, drawn back like a hand that had just been bitten. So too, did the animals and insects make a path. The hunter spiders fell back to their boroughs and dens, peering out at us from the darkness with their bulbous red eyes. Even the shadows that the trees cast seemed to shrivel up as the morning dragged on.

I had lost track of the time. Looking up, all I could see was a quilt of leaves, rich green, and slender branches, long like some wisping tendrils of smoke rising up from a mahogany pipe. It wasn’t until we met the crash of rushing water that I found a window by which I could still see the sky. I judged the time to be 9 ‘o’ clock in the morning with a small margin of error given in either direction. It’d only taken me a couple of hours to make my way west of Dalmar, past the crags of the Broken Mountains and into the nameless green forest that swallowed up the churning flow of the Godfinger Rapids before the river wound its way up into the Graytop Mountains, far out of sight.

Of course, all of this was a long detour. There was a bridge connecting the trade routes between Dalmar and Athedia. It would have been much faster to go that way, certainly, but I don’t like bridges. Too many people and too much open space for my taste. Maybe on a moonless night, beneath a cloud-covered sky. Besides, I had other options. Here, at the edge of the forest, where the Godfinger Rapids raged year-round, there was another path, albeit more treacherous.

If one were so inclined, they could cross the rapids by jumping across the stones that protruded from the water. Sure, treading from one rock to the next might have been a daunting task to most travelers, but I had become something that was apart from your typical adventurer. My mount effortlessly glided along the path of boulders and large stones that dotted the white waters.

After crossing and making our way back out of the forest, tall spires atop flagstone castle towers began to jut up from the soft carpet of the abundant meadows that lay to the west of Athedia. Windswept red banners whipped about, still bound to the flagpoles they hung from, but just barely. A gale must have kicked up from the sea while I’d ridden around the bridge, likely the remnants of a more violent storm that had managed to twist itself free of the Tumultuous Plains. A distant clap of thunder to the southeast seemingly confirmed my thought. How fortuitous for me.

Instead of making a beeline for Athedia, I decided to lay low along the outskirts of the Rainbow Basin. The rough terrain did not hinder our travel, but the heavy mist surrounding its outskirts served to conceal our passage. Soon my gaze swept across the kingdom’s backside – a sheer cliff.

The castle keep was located on the top of a small plateau wrapped in a flagstone cape and adorned with a matching crown. The noble quarters and the more important establishments, such as the bank, the barracks, and the access to the aquifer, sprawled out along the south side of the castle, flanked by yet another great stone wall. Beyond that laid the villages situated along the road to the Dalmar.

By concentrating most of its battlements towards the more vulnerable south side and using the sheer cliffs as natural defenses, Athedia had proven itself a difficult kingdom to conquer many times over, or so I’d read. While an army might have a tough time scaling their way to the top of the northern face unnoticed, I was not an army. I was just… well, me.

Or more precisely, a lone rider in black, galloping headlong towards that seemingly insurmountable mass of stone. No sign of slowing down. At the last possible moment, I leaned back as we sailed upwards. At first, it looked like we’d smash into the cliff, but we defied gravity’s tyrannical grasp and began to run straight up the side of the cliff.  As we climbed upwards, I tilted my head to the side, relishing in the gentle crosswinds caressing my cheek.  

Without warning, we sailed off of the cliff face, flying higher still, past the great flagstone walls of the castle keep. Soon it was only the tallest of towers that could rival us, that being a single spire higher than all of the rest; the Steward’s private quarters, complete with a garden balcony. It was as good a landing place as any.

We landed atop marble tiles, amidst a sea of red roses that were complimented by crimson banners bearing a golden coat of arms: a lion brandishing a thunderbolt. The seal of Athedia. With the wave of my hand, the ephemeral mare faded away, allowing me to gracefully descend to the ground. I tapped the tip of my boot against the smooth tiles as I noted the impressive workmanship surrounding me before turning towards a pair of violet curtains.

“I have answered your summons.” I called out. A tedious silence followed. From somewhere I could not place came a rare scent, like lavender but even more subtle. I could recognize it anywhere: Silver Moonflower. Not to be confused with your garden variety Moonflower, this was its rare sibling, known only to grow in the deepest parts of the Lunar Woods, far from the reaches of the Emerald Ring.

“Are you going to invite me in or not?” I tried again.

“Thought you might let yourself in, Sildahan.” A strong, sharp voice answered me as the curtains were swept aside by a gloved hand. A pair of sparkling, amber eyes leveled with my own as a tall, slender woman stepped out to greet me. Before me stood Lazira, Steward of Athedia, in what was unmistakably her battle garb – an intimidating breastplate resembling a snarling lion with a gaping, toothy maw on the front side, expertly molded from some kind of black alloy. Her skirt and her bracers were fortified with the same material. Beneath that formidable shell, she wore a form-fitting jumpsuit woven from flexible, charcoal-colored scales that descended into tall, black leather boots that only served to accentuate her own height.

“Have I done something to offend you?” I smirked as I gestured towards her rapier, another fine work of art on display. A bell-shaped guard that seemed to be carved out of one massive bloodstone protected a grip lined with dark fur. A hefty ruby had been set into its pommel. The blade seemed impossibly thin, like it was one single, rigid thread of a spider’s web. This must be the famous black rapier, Myranir, wielded by Lazira of Athedia, practically invisible to the naked eye. Certainly a curious instrument.

“Hm? Oh. This little potato peeler?” She held up the sword. “N’er to fear, Sildahan. ‘Tis that time of day when a lady must practice lest age and idle hands get the better of her.” With that, she casually turned her back towards me and walked back into the tower. I waited a moment and then followed after her, maintaining a respectful distance. As the velvet curtains were swept aside, I was greeted by a decidedly austere chamber, adorned by little else but the drapes and wall-to-wall mirrors. I gazed upon my reflection for a moment and wondered if I wasn’t a bit dressed down for this occasion. No matter.

“What has led you to summon me, Lazira?” I saw no reason to make casual conversation. Not today.

“Ah, I see you’ve a mind to cut me to the quick.” Lazira turned on her heel to address me. She let her rapier hang down at her side.

“I have a busy evening planned.” No smirks from me, just a cold, hard stare which she returned in kind.

“So be it. Kill Kendo of Valikorlia. This I ask of you and only you, Sildahan.” She came right out with it. “Quick and painless, if’n you please. And discreet.” She added quickly. No beating around the bush. Just as expected. I turned away from her.

“And what has the good Steward done to earn your ire, Lazira?” I found myself glaring over my shoulder at her when I decided to answer her. She turned to the side, minimizing her profile and obscuring her rapier from my sight. She sighed.

“Can’t think of a thing at all. Just simple facts: Kendo’s life or a full-scale war throughout the Ring. Surely you, Sildahan, can see the scales tipped to one side?” She continued to stand still. Poised to act, but not yet on guard.

“I think if you add the lives that would be bought and sold as slaves to that scale, you might think differently, Lazira.” This time I turned to address her.

“Oh, Sildahan… who would have thought you to have a bleeding heart.” She scowled at me  as she continued, “My say makes no diff’rence. They’ll bring slavers back to the Ring whether I do or don’t, but you see, the diff’rence is, if they decide to come after this nation, we’re not sitting on the opposite side of the sea. No sir, we’re already fenced in – Gideon to the south, and Nesden to the north. They would cut off our trade routes by land and sea, and all of us would starve.” She articulated her points with a particular rhythm. I also couldn’t argue with anything she was saying, but that didn’t persuade me.

“I will not kill Kendo. He has done no wrong.” I folded my arms across my chest and stuck my chin out.

“Oho, now I see. You fancy a bargain, Mr. Sildahan. Now it all makes sense. Well, I havn’t the mind or the time for haggling, so name your price.” She was doing a good job of maintaining her composure so far. Hmm.

“Hate to say it, but I’m not interested in any of the treasure you’d throw at my feet to prevent this war from occurring.” I turned away from her again and she laughed outright.  

“Are you so certain?” She asked. “Our vaults have trinkets even you may not have laid eyes on.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I did let myself in once.” I knew that she was a tough customer, but so was I.

“I see you are also quite a joker as well as a waste of time, Mr. Sildahan.” I saw her nostrils flare a little through the reflection of the mirror before me. Finally. A crack in her armor.

“If I’ve wasted your time, then I’ve wasted my own, and as I’ve already said, I have a busy evening planned.” I allowed myself the smallest of smirks as I turned to face her. She cocked one eyebrow at me.

“Ah surely you must have a full itinerary if you plan on dragging all the armies of the Emerald Ring down to Melram before this day is done.” Now it was her turn to smirk. My lips puckered a little and I turned my head to the side as if I were about to brush a speck of dust off of my duster.

“That would be far too vulgar a display of power, Lazira.” I shook my head to accentuate my position, then continued. “Only three lives are needed to restore the balance.” Her expression softened as it dawned upon her.

“You’ll murder three Stewards then?” She asked, eyes bright with curiosity.   

“Inevitably so, and you are going to help me, Lazira.” I flashed her a smile, but there was no warmth to it. No, it was more like I was baring my fangs.

“I think not, Sildahan. If you want to get yourself killed, that’s fine, but you won’t drag my country into an early grave alongside you.” She still hadn’t dropped that subtle defensive stance of hers.

“I could try to reassure you that this will not lead back to Athedia or Valikorlia. After all, if I were found out, then the Emerald Ring would already be at war instead of teetering on the precipice of it.” I let my hands dangle at my side and began to walk towards Lazira. She didn’t budge.

“Oho? And how might you accomplish that? Seems far-fetched to me.” She narrowed her eyes and shot me an incredulous look. I chuckled.

“Without a doubt, but that doesn’t make anything I’ve said untrue.” I stopped advancing head on when I was just outside of her reach – more than several paces away. Instead, I began to circle around her, towards her left side, away from her dominant right hand.

“Seems we’ve become at odds then.” Lazira declared. “Know this, Sildahan; I will drink your blood before I let you harm my people.” As I circled, so did she pivot on the ball of her back foot, keeping her profile minimized. The duel was well underway.

“How about we break this stalemate with a friendly wager, then?” I extended my right arm out to the side, palm outstretched and waiting. From beneath the shadow of my hand rose up a long, slender object. To her eyes, it might have resembled a blade already, but once I closed my fingers around it, there would be no doubt. In an instant, a black longsword appeared in my hand, and while its blade offered a peculiar luster, it did not seem to reflect any light. No, if anything, the light seemed to shrink away from it.

Now she pivoted to the side, turning her sword arm towards me. The tip of her rapier danced in the air, all but impossible to see.

“Sounds interesting, but I’ll be damned if I lose my soul to a kaern such as yourself.” She spat the words out with a surprising amount of bite. She pivoted again, this time showing me her sword arm. The tip of her rapier was all but possible to see as she leveled its blade with me.

“I don’t have any use for such things, Lazira. I’m not a god. Just hold on a moment.” It was my turn to raise my blade. Despite its length, I was able to wield it with but a single hand, for the otherworldly material it was made from was lighter and sharper than any kind of steel you’d find around the Ring.

“This is what I had in mind – a duel, first to draw blood wins. If I win, you must light the signal bonfire to signal your dissent. That is all. If you win, I will assassinate Kendo as you originally requested and you will get to keep your false sense of security. How about it?” There it was, laid out bare on the table. Would she accept the terms?

“… Deal.” She hardly hesitated.

“Then let us begin.” As soon as the words had left my mouth, she lunged at me. Her blade lashed out angrily, as if she could barely hold on to it. I felt its tip float past my nose as I instinctively stepped aside. A follow up strike nearly tagged my leg but I kicked my foot back at the last second. Another follow up might have landed had I not batted away her expert thrust with my longsword. Behind her gritted teeth and focused stare I could see her sizing me up, taking note of how quickly I could swing my weapon, the way I evaded her first series of probing attacks. This could be difficult. Unless…

My stomach muscles flexed, becoming like a stern girdle as I forced a deep breath down into my abdomen. With my free hand still resting behind my back, I clenched my fist, seeing the current in my mind’s eye, watching it course faster as I continued to backstep and circle away before my opponent could maneuver in range. She began to grow emboldened. It wouldn’t matter.

That familiar prickling along the back of my neck, that burning itch deep inside my left eye. The curtains behind Lazira begin to flow like molasses all the while the echoes of the storm roaring outside remained constant. My foe tried to step inside again, but now it seemed as if she was stuck inside an invisible pit of quicksand. Everything around me was happening in slow motion. Even my own limbs moved as if they were struggling against an unseen floodtide, and yet I felt relaxed. Calm. All of these were sensations that I had grown accustomed to.

There it is. That almost imperceptible blade of hers, cutting the air as it billowed forward. I slipped inside, twisting my torso as I watched her blade cleave the empty space where my heart had been just a second ago. She really wasn’t pulling any punches. Nor should she have. If I had to guess, it felt like she was moving at only a tenth of her original speed. That was probably a good thing, as I wasn’t confident my luck would have held out otherwise. She was quite good, but I expected as much, given her reputation.

Alas, I didn’t have all day to play, nor did I have a desire to. After all, this wasn’t really fair. She was only human. I was… something else. Definitely not a “god,” because those don’t exist, and not necessarily “better than,” your typical human. Just different. Standing directly before her, I raised my free hand up and pointed my index finger towards her cheek. A strand of shadow wrapped its way down my arm and up to my pointed index finger, where it became a sharp talon. I raised it to her cheek and pressed it just lightly enough for a single bloom of red to well up from beneath the surface. I continued on, stepping past her, enjoying the shocked expression that had just began to form on her face from one of the mirror’s reflections.

With that, I had won the contest. The world snapped back to its normal, impatient self. I gestured towards her cheek as she turned around.  She side-eyed herself in one of the mirrors and spotted the little red rivulet, like a bloody tear. Her sword clattered to the floor, and so I dropped my own, allowing it to fall silently and rejoin the rest of my shadow. Now came the real question; would she uphold her end of the deal?

“How?” She asked, jerking her temple towards me as if the question would dig itself out of her skull if it wasn’t answered.

“Trade secret, I’m afraid.” I offered her a thin-lipped smile. “With that, I must ask that you uphold your end of the bargain. I need Nesden to see that red smoke and react to it.” I strode towards her and stood before her once again. The way her lip quivered said it all – she was afraid. Not necessarily of me, but of the consequences that this would bring upon her country.

“But… Gideon and Nesden…” She stammered a little bit.

“Leave Nesden to me.” I offered her a courteous bow.

“And Gideon?” She asked. I closed my eyes and replayed Gideon’s last moments. My grin spread from ear to ear, like a scarecrow’s.

“I think you’ll find that Gideon couldn’t harm a fly.” With that, I sank into the floor, leaving only the echo of my twisted laughter and the tiny pinprick upon her cheek as the only evidence of my visit.

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Cover artwork by @clya_lyren
Story written by “Jungle”

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Once upon the second day of spring, a blazing sun heralded the tides of war: a bloody phantom of smoke rising up from its grave, the horizon. The shade loomed tall and menacing – visible even from across the Medial Sea. An appropriate declaration of defiance. As I turned away from the saltwater spray of the docks, I felt a warmth I’d nearly forgotten as it washed over the scars on my back: the first rays of Dawn, embracing the day and casting the night’s cloak aside with her sweet refrain. I shivered at her touch.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied an elderly gentleman with disheveled tufts of gray hair, matching spectacles, and clothing frayed in odd places, likely from sleeping on the cobblestone streets. He stood a little further down the alleyway, staring at the strange man who had just crawled out of his own shadow. I turned my head towards the gentleman, offering him a curt nod. His lip quivered and I saw my own reflection gazing back at me through his panicked eyes.

A few measured steps carried me over to the old man before his heart could finish palpitating. He looked as though he wanted to speak, but couldn’t grasp any words, only big, empty gulps of air that did little to calm his racing heart. He reminded me of a drowning sailor. I gently placed my hand upon his shoulder for reassurance. A stray strand of silver hair lilted to the side as I tilted my head, regarding the old man with my best impression of a warm smile shared between old friends.  

“Marvelous cloak you have there, my friend. May I offer you a gold coin for it?” Now I found the man tilting his own head to the side, much like the way a confused dog might look at its owner after an unfamiliar command. I almost laughed at the thought. With a quick flourish and the snap of my fingers, a single gold coin appeared in the palm of my hand, as if summoned from thin air. The bottoms of the old man’s eyes curved upwards with a hint of hope as he started to wrap his mind around the offer.

He reached for the coin, but I pulled it away first. His jaw went slack and I shook my head. He seemed hesitant, as if the deal was too good to be true. And why should it be? In many cases, he would be correct to mistrust a stranger. By my estimate, everything this poor fellow owned was probably worth less than one solitary silver piece. I casually cascade the gold coin over my knuckles, adding another, and then another. By the time he had seen the third coin, he was already hurrying to pull off his old rag and hand it over. The man’s eyes were so transfixed by the flash of gold that he did not notice the steady stream of what would appear to be rodents scurrying out of the back of my pant leg. Away you go, little denizens of the dark. Find that which I seek.

“Don’t spend it all in one place.” I took the garb and departed with a wink.

A couple of minutes passed and I found myself hunched over, wearing my freshly purchased, dirty, tattered cloak as I pretended to hobble my way down one of the main roads. West would take me towards the center of Dalmar’s infamous pleasure district, and so I kept walking, the sun nipping at my heels. Along the walk, I felt a dull pang in my chest, right below where my heart should be beating. What was it? Remorse? For the orphaned pickpockets that passed me by, figuring I had nothing? Or perhaps it was sympathy that I felt as I passed by the homeless mother sheltering her children? I leaned over and pulled a few more golden coins from the beyond before tossing them to her without a word, or even an acknowledgement. I simply carried on as she and her children stared at the coins with disbelief.

As my journey continued, the buildings grew more robust and lavish, as did the garbs of all those who would pass me by. Sport coats, fur coats, top hats, tuxedos, and all other manner of elegant formal wear flew away at the very sight of me, the homeless beggar hobbling his way into the upscale part of town. I suppose I shouldn’t judge them too harshly, after all – with every few steps I lurched, another black rat scurried off into the gutter, or scuttled inside of a bar or brothel. Every time I pretended to retch up a meal, a few more flies began to buzz around. As a party of nobles and other well-to-do’ers sneered and spat at me, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. To be ignorant and to be oblivious are two different things, but in this case, they were guilty of both.

I heard a shrill squeak in my ear and so I closed my eyes for a moment. One of the rats had found what I was after. The hazy image of a hanging sign emblazoned with, ‘The Dancing Doll,’ in elegant red script. Ah, Gideon. I should have known. He was a glutton, and the only thing he liked more than food and spirits was to break the beautiful and the elegant. There would be no shortage of any vice at the Dancing Doll, the brothel where only the ‘best’ dancers were allowed to perform, serve, or… service. I felt that familiar pang again. The muscles in my neck relaxed as I suddenly twisted my head from side to side, relishing the loud pop I received as a response.

I changed directions and set off once again, following the enthusiastic chirps of my little friend. Before much longer, I found myself standing underneath that same swaying wooden sign. I turned towards the door. The man standing guard there stared at me in disbelief for a moment before his brows furrowed. He puffed his chest out and glared at me.

“Beat it. We’re closed.” His voice was gruff, leathery. He smelled like smoke and piss. I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose. Some people have no respect for themselves, I suppose. No matter. I straightened my back, rising to my full height, before standing chest to chest with him. His eye twitched as I tilted my head down to meet his stare.

“I just want… one drink, mister…” I put some extra gravel in my voice, ending the last word with a growl. The man responded by planting his hand on my chest and pushing hard. I didn’t budge. Instead, I grabbed his wrist with an icy grip like a steel manacle as I looked him dead in the eye.

“I’m coming in for a drink.” My words fell heavy with the weight they carried; the unsaid threat lingering behind my empty stare. I felt my gaze getting hotter as a little spark of electricity leaped from the surface of my left eye before diving back in like a fish jumping out of the sea before rejoining its school. The door man was stupefied, absentmindedly nodding his head as he stepped back to let me pass. I resumed my act straightaway, cowering down as I hobbled my way inside, leaving the doorman to convince himself he had imagined everything that had just transpired.

The Dancing Doll greeted me with a nauseating wave of perfume and smoke. Ugh. At the very least, the place was only dimly lit by the many candles dotting the faded, yellowed wooden walls. The daylight was kept at bay by the many curtains still covering the windows, protecting from prying eyes. Plenty of shadows, plenty of places to hide. I’m not above redundancy. I spotted the bar a dozen paces away, the bright center around which this depraved little world revolved. As I approached the barkeep, I spotted a small crowd of soldiers and took a second glance. A dozen or so Dalmarian Royal Guards, all standing at attention as a few dancers writhed about upon the stage, keeping step to the rhythm of a single guitarist hiding in the corner. Heavy, rumbling laughter reverberated throughout the room.

I cleared my throat so obnoxiously that the bartender turned to regard me with a scowl.

“Yeah?” He looked back and asked from over his shoulder.

“Gimme-a drink! A drink!” I slurred and leaned up against the bar. “C’mon, mister! I’ll pay ya tomorrow!” I meekly offered him a thumbs up. The bartender was not amused, nor did he appear to offer credit for goods and services. I kept at him anyways, my act growing more belligerent by the moment. Soon my drunken slurs were the only thing that could be heard throughout the Doll. Before long, the sea of armed guards parted to reveal a grotesque caricature of a man.

This man was known throughout The Emerald Ring as Gideon, the Drought of Dalmar. True to his name, he could drink anybody under the table, provided you could find a stool sturdy enough to seat all sixty stones worth of his blubbery guts. Indeed, Gideon was not so much a man as he was a twisted personification of one of the famed great white whales that lurked amongst the deeps of the Medial Sea… and yet despite that, he was filled with a pride as boundless as his endless waistline. I found it hard to believe that at one point in his life, Gideon used to resemble one of those little pickpockets I’d passed by on the way here. In fairness though… for all my barbs, it wasn’t hard to imagine what kind of appetite could have turned a starving child into a monster like him. I’d seen enough of the world to know firsthand.

“Barkeep! What’s that racket?” Gideon bellowed, his lips puckering as the jowls on his neck shook with each word. Now I had his attention.

“He’s a stiff! ‘E won’t g-give me a drink!” I shouted back, gesticulating wildly with both hands. A hushed murmur fell over the crowd.

“A drink? You’d like a drink, you say? Well then, come over here and drink with me, your Steward!” The massive tub shook with laughter. My grin grew wider as I sauntered over. I started to wonder if it would really be this easy when two crossed battle axes suddenly barred my path.

“Whu? C’mon! I thought we were drinkin’! Gotta drink before we get to fightin’, ahar har har.” I dropped the cloak I was wearing to reveal my naked torso beneath it, and with it, all of the scars that dotted each inch of tissue like so many constellations of stars. They could see that I bore no weapons. One of the guards in front of me muttered something over his shoulder before they decided to let me pass. I sat down at the table directly across from Gideon and showed him my biggest, dumbest grin. Gideon responded in kind with an insidious smile, his eyes flickering with malice.

“I’ll make you a deal then, you old beggar. You best me in a game of poison cup, and I’ll let you drink as much as you want. All you have to do… is pick the drink that’s not poisoned. What say you?” Gideon leaned back, tracing the tip of his pointer finger around the rim of his goblet. My head wobbled a bit as I did my best to keep up the façade.

“A’right! It’sa… deal! Hic.” I squeaked. Gideon’s laugh was cold and cruel. He grabbed the drinks from each dancer flanking his sides, even cuffing the one who didn’t hand hers over fast enough. I felt my jaw clench for just a second. Relax, Trent. Not yet. Gideon pivoted in his chair, trying to conceal both cups from me. I debated whether it would be out of character to ask why Gideon carries poison around, but I decided it would be wise to keep my mouth shut. Better to play the dumb mark than to let on that I know his game.  

His forearm jiggled as he set both cups down on the table and pushed them forward, towards me. I convincingly lost my balance and fell forward onto the table, or would have, but I recovered at the last moment. Gideon and his guards laughed knowingly. Any fool could tell this was a trap, that both cups were poisoned.

I’d expected as much from the Drought of Dalmar, though. After all, his exploits as both a poison taster and a poisoner were all well known throughout the Ring. Rumor has it that it was a gambit like this that had allowed him to usurp the Stewardship of Dalmar in the first place. Surely, he was a cunning bastard in his right mind, but wine and spirits are not vices that lend themselves to sound thinking. Surely, even the Drought would be tipsy by the time the sun rose, and what’s more – I knew he had cause for great celebration on this particular morning.

I began to sniff both of the cups despite the fact that any poison Gideon had used would have been odorless. His laughter intensified as I seemingly took the bait. While he and his guards were too busy giggling over what they thought would be my last moments alive, a single black fly buzzed its way from my shoulder into the cup on my left. Nobody noticed it except for me. The hook was set. My expression hardened as I clenched my jaw and took the cup on the right before pushing the cup on the left forward. I raised the cup to my lips and the room went completely silent as everyone took one collective breath and held it.

“’Ey, ain’t you gonna drink that ‘un, ssir?” I lisped a little bit and jerked my chin towards the other cup. The laughter stopped and Gideon’s brow furrowed.

“I already have a drink. See?” He raised his goblet and a few of the rubies encrusted along its surface glistened in the pale candlelight.

“C’mon naw, if you dun’ drink… then how do I know you didn’t, hic, poison them both? Hic! S’not much of a game now is it.” My chest shook as I sold that last hiccup. C’mon, you pig. Nobody has ever had to twist your arm to drink. Why should I start now? As if he’d read my mind, Gideon leaned away from the table. I felt my catch slowly slipping away. It was time to double down.

“Unless… mabbe… yer afraid? Afraid? Bahaha!” My words sliced into him like a butcher’s knife. His wounded ego would be my skeleton key.

“Afraid? Me? Of a little poison? Hah! You really are an old fool. Fine. Let’s drink then. On three… oh wait, can you even count to three?” That last line got a good rise from his lackeys, and so Gideon’s smirk returned, but I could tell my arrow had found its mark. I simply nodded at him and raised my glass.

“One… two… three!” The guards chanted. We both raised our glasses and we each took a long swig. For a moment, all was quiet once again. Then my eyes started to water. I imagined my throat tightening. I clawed at it, desperately, as if trying in vain to extinguish an intense burning sensation I felt there. The chorus of laughter returned as I fell to the ground, kicking my feet into the air as I pounded my fists against the floor in agony. Excruciating pain, if only in my imagination. The chorus only intensified. Soon, my eyes stared unblinking as my struggling body became still.

“Hah! Old fool! Let that be a lesson to you in your next life, then!” Gideon’s cruel bellow is all that could be heard now. As he opened wide to guffaw once more, the black fly perched inside of his cup flew past his two rows of yellowed teeth and beelined straight for his windpipe, where it lodged itself.

“Ack!” Gideon coughed, realizing he had swallowed the fly. Nobody seemed to notice. Everyone was too busy having a laugh at the expense of my life. Nobody realized that it wasn’t a fly Gideon had just swallowed, either. No. It was a puppet, one wrought from the only thing that would follow me no matter where I wandered: my shadow. Now that ‘fly’ had grown to two times its original size. Three times. Ten times. Larger still. Soon the outline of its grotesque eyes could be seen bulging out against the fleshy prison of Gideon’s neck.

He tried to scream, but not a sound could be heard over the continued roar of laughter. He grabbed his throat with one hand, flailing the other blindly at anyone within reach. His pink cheeks tinged blue as his chest quaked, struggling in vain to capture even the smallest bit of air. To the rest of his party, it looked like he was just having a good time. A really good time. In fact, it looked like he was laughing so hard he might even fall out of his chair. Then he really did fall out of his chair, which only forced all of the royal guards to laugh all the harder. Even the bartender started chuckling. Laughter is contagious, after all.

As Gideon laid on the floor, dying, a break in the forest of legs and boots allowed us to lock eyes for a moment. He was panicked before, clearly, but now, with all of the color drained from his face and a huge lump in his throat growing larger by the second, he was clearly horrified. The corners of my mouth rolled up like two ends of an unruly carpet that refused to lay flat.

“Baal… za… bod…” He quietly mouthed the word, Baalzabod, a name given to me by the nomadic tribes that roamed the deserts far in the southwestern reaches beyond the safety of the Emerald Ring. Roughly translated, it meant, “King of the Rats,” a title I still find quite amusing. Gideon became still as the laughter began to die down. Finally, his entourage noticed his distress. They were already too late though. Gideon’s eyes had rolled backwards in their sockets, and his cheeks had turned a deep shade of purple. His tongue bulged out of his mouth like an overripe sausage forgotten in a dumpster.

Gideon the Drought was dead. With this realization, his guards began to shout and stomp about in a panic – so preoccupied with the death of their Steward that nobody noticed the corpse of the old man had disappeared, leaving only a tattered cowl and a small puddle of poisoned wine behind as the only clues to his crime.

---

---

Where am I? A bright, full moon hangs overhead, shedding its light on a clearing in the middle of a forest. The surrounding trees loom tall, like dark and ominous strangers. Standing alone, I feel exposed. It seems as if the entire world is asleep. Something rises up from the center of the clearing. It seems… geometric, somehow. What is it?

My boots plod against damp grass as the structure grows larger and sharper. It’s a door. Just a door, no building behind it. Who put this here? My unease melts away into curiosity as I circle the doorway. My knuckles rap against it thrice – knock, knock, knock. It’s solid, sturdy. My fingertips brush against the wood’s grain and I can feel something engraved there. Is this a crescent moon? The craftsmanship is beautiful. Why would someone go through the trouble of making this only to leave it in the middle of nowhere?

“Help…” A meek voice whispers a single word. My blood freezes. Is someone here? My eyes dart left and right as I scan the clearing again. Nobody’s here. Could someone be hiding in the trees? Or maybe I’m hearing things? I hold my breath and listen.

“In here…” There it is again. I didn’t imagine it. It sounds like a woman is trying to speak to me from behind the door. My heart starts to beat faster. Quick footsteps carry me around the other side of the door and back again. Nobody’s there. How could that be possible? My gaze drifts down, towards a translucent glass handle blown into the shape of a seven-pointed star. I wonder if it’s locked?

My outstretched hand hovers over it, hesitating, then my fingers close around the doorknob and twist it open. As soon as the latch clicks, a sudden gust of wind blows the door wide open and it knocks me on my rear. My hair whips around my face, covering my mouth and muffling a surprised gasp. It’s so bright! Light pours through the doorframe, bathing me in silver. My eyes nearly shut as I squint to figure out what I’m looking at. For a second it seems like I’m staring at a beautiful painting of the night sky, complete with a luminescent moon, accompanied by a guard of rolling clouds, and set against a backdrop of a night sky studded with stars. It’s not a painting, though. Those soft, majestic clouds are moving.

Time ticks on as I sit in quiet awe. A magical doorway in the middle of nowhere? I stand up and dust myself off. The wind continues to wail. Shivers race up and down my spine. I poke my head through the opening and peer down. My stomach flutters – the ground gives way at the door’s threshold.

Then the realization hits me: it’s a doorway to the sky. This can’t be real. If it is, it has to be some kind of magic. Hundreds of questions zip through my head – who made this? Why did they make it? What is its purpose? Can the door go to other places too? I think about closing it and opening it again to test that thought, but I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll lose this breathtaking view. I poke my head through the doorframe and look down once more.

A glimmer of light flickers near my feet. It’s very faint, barely perceptible, but I can see it – the reflection of the moonlight against the open sky… but how is that possible? I drop to a crouch and look closer. It seems like there is some sort of translucent pathway leading out from the door. I reach out and try to touch it. The air is firm and smooth, like a bridge made out of glass.

“Please help me…” The voice calls out again and I look up. I still can’t see anybody out there. I wonder how far this bridge goes?

Another weighty realization hits me: if I am going to answer her call, I’ll need to go out there. Will that bridge even support my weight? The bottom of my boot taps against the translucent platform. It feels solid. With one hand on the door frame, I lean my weight against the glass, testing the bridge a little more. So far so good. A tremor shoots up my leg as I stomp the heel of my boot down upon it. No cracks, not even a scuff.

“Hurry…!” She calls to me again and I can sense the urgency in her voice. Deep breath, Seles.

I step through the doorway and onto the bridge. It feels just as sturdy as the earth on the other side, if not more so. A few cautious steps carry me further from safety and out into the night sky. Amazing. The whole world sits beneath me as the moon hangs overhead, larger than I’ve ever seen. For a moment, I forget what I’m doing.

“This way…!” The voice calls out to me again. I cautiously advance, carefully tracking the traces of moonlight reflected along the glass. A misstep here would spell my doom. Another gust of wind crashes against me, threatening to knock me off balance. I gulp. Lights flicker far below me – probably a city. It seems so small, like a castle made of sand. Time feels infinite up here. I continue to walk along the bridge as the doorway gets smaller and smaller behind me.

“Where are you?” I cup my hands to cheeks and call out loudly.

“I’m right here, Celestria…” A raspy voice fills my ears, followed by a bang as the door slams shut. I spin around, startled. The door is gone, replaced by a dark silhouette radiating crimson wrath. That voice… is it the visitor from the other night? The aura is so intense that it looks like a flaming effigy. My hand instinctively reaches for my katana, but it only finds empty air. Not again!

“Mother wants to see you, Celestria.” His raspy voice calls out in a mock sing-song tone, punctuated by a twisted chuckle. The sense of déjà vu gives way to recognition, and with it, dread. It’s not the visitor from the other night. It’s something much worse — it’s him. The Stranger. He’s found me again! The burning silhouette begins to grow…

Shit! I can’t fight up here, I can barely tell where the bridge is! Before I can come up with a plan, he breaks into a sprint, heading right at me. I spin on my heel and start to run away, pushing off the glass with as much power as my legs can muster. The dizzying wind threatens to blow me off the narrow path again. His cackling is getting louder…!

A passing cloud blocks the moon and the reflection that guided my way suddenly disappears. The bridge becomes invisible. I keep running anyways – getting caught would be worse than dying. Please let it keep going straight ahead! Please let the light shine again! Please let me survive this! He’s so close, I can’t outrun him. What do I do!? Someone help me! My foot plunges through empty air and the sensation of weightlessness washes over me as I tumble down. I’m falling! The Stranger’s cackles are drowned by the wind tossing me around like a ragdoll. My eyes squeeze shut, but I can still imagine the earth rushing up towards me, closer and closer. This is it. I’ll die here. At least I got to see that wonderful view before I went…

…

“Your Highness, please wake up!”

My eyes snap open and I sit up, chest heaving, sweat trickling down my temples. My hand reaches to my hip and finds the smooth wooden finish of my katana’s hilt. My eyes snap back and forth like a whip, searching for the Stranger. He’s not there though. Just the open field I made camp in. The moon is gone and I can tell by the warm light washing over me that the sun is up. It was only a dream. A deep sigh of relief escapes me.

“Good morning, your Highness.” A familiar voice that only I can hear. It’s Athos. The little crow skips along the grass and stands beside me.

“… Good morning, Athos.” It takes me a second to catch my breath and respond. I offer him a pat on the head and he wiggles his tail feathers in appreciation.

“Please forgive me for startling you, my Queen, but something has come up.” His beak dips down towards the ground as he spreads his wings — did he just bow to me? Yes, I think he did. For a second, I wonder if I am still dreaming and pinch myself. It hurts. I am definitely awake, but my eyelids feel like iron weights.

“Is something wrong?”

“We are being pursued, your Highness. It seems the guards have learned of your escape.” The little crow points one wing in the direction of the settlement we fled from last night. It seems like I’m always on the run these days, whether I’m awake or asleep. Better get moving then. I slowly climb to my feet and brush the dirt off my dress.

“On the move again? But I hardly slept…” Now it’s Porthos’ turn to chime in. The black cat is curled up on a patch of grass with his eyes shut.

“We don’t have time for this, cat.” Athos chides him. Porthos opens one eye to glare at Athos and hisses at him.

“Porthos, you can nap later. We have to get out of here.” My command is stern. The feline leisurely stands up, arches his back, then saunters over. Now that I think about it, this is the first time I’ve seen him in the daylight. What striking eyes he has, like two vibrant rubies — a stark contrast to his pitch-black fur. Looks like I’ve acquired another handsome pet… now if only I could do something about that attitude of his.

“May I make a suggestion, my Queen?” Athos speaks up again and I give him a nod. “I found a cabin off in the woods to the north. I don’t think the guards will look for us there.” He flaps one of his wings as he explains, as if to better articulate himself.

“Alright then. Athos, take to the skies and lead us there.” My little crow companion responds immediately; with a skip, a hop, and a few flaps of his wings, he takes off, climbing into the sky with ease.

“Porthos, follow Athos and guide me.” The cat flicks his tail back and forth, annoyed, then looks away. I sigh and shake my head. “You can take a long nap once we get to safety.” I continue.

“Promise?” His tail stops, standing at attention.

“Yes, I promise.” With that, we set out, fleeing civilization, and wandering off into the wilderness to avoid capture. After some time, we enter the forest, and then after walking some more, we reach our destination; a rustic log cabin tucked into the forest.

I can’t help but admire the design – a flat face in front, home to two windows on either side of the front door along with a roof reaching up from the ground on either side to meet at the top. Very symmetrical aside from the haphazard patches of moss dotting its walls and the leafy vines stretching down from the roof. Maybe a witch lives here? An old hermit? Or perhaps it’s been deserted? Ooh, how wonderful that would be – a little witch cottage in the woods with nobody around to bother me. That would be a welcome change of pace. First thing’s first though.

“Porthos, it’s almost nap time. Would you do me a favor and scout that cabin? There is a window next to the front door, maybe you can see inside it?”

“… You’re going to make me climb now?” Porthos looks back over his shoulder and swishes his tail back and forth. “Why can’t you do it? You’re taller than I am, after all.” Well, he does have a point there.

“If someone’s home and they see me peering into their window, they might get spooked and tell us to keep walking. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” I smile as I wag my finger at him. Appealing to his interest seems to be the best way to persuade him.

“… Fine, I’ll check it out.” With that, Porthos approaches the building. Instead of going straight to the window, he disappears behind the cabin. A few moments later, he reappears out front again, but from the other side. Then he stops once to sniff the door a few times. Why does it seem like he’s done this before? Next, he leaps up onto the windowsill and peers inside.

“What do you see in there?” I ask.

“… I think there’s a dead guy inside. Well, maybe not dead. He could be asleep. Hard to tell. He’s not moving at all though.” Porthos responds. I nod my head and quietly approach the front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Is anybody home?” I call out. No response.

“He hasn’t moved. I think he’s dead.” Porthos comments. A sudden rush of air followed by a few stray feathers announces the return of Athos. He perches himself on a nearby tree limb, surveying the cabin.

“What was it that Trent used to say? Something like, ‘dead men don’t own anything,’ right?” I think to myself. Well, he was right. I wonder what Trent’s up to? Now, now, Seles, don’t get distracted. We don’t think about him anymore, remember?

Knock, knock, KNOCK.

Still no response. Well, breaking in could be forgiven if I save his life, right? On the other hand, I could get blamed for another crime I didn’t commit. Oh well. Time to roll the dice. I try the door handle. Why is it unlocked? That seems strange, although I don’t think he got many visitors out here. With a light push, the door swings open and I step inside the dwelling, Porthos following at my heel.

“I shall watch the door and warn you if anyone approaches, my Queen.” Athos says. Good thinking. I turn my attention to the cabin’s interior. It’s dark – not too many windows in here. Wait, didn’t I help myself to that guard’s lighter? My hand fishes around inside my satchel and my fingers close around cold metal – there it is. The cap flicks open and I thumb the wheel, igniting the wick. A soft orange flame sparks to life.

Now I can see things a bit better. Nearby, two candles and some scattered pieces of paper on a small table and a couple on the floor beside it. I step forward and light the candles, then pocket my lighter and continue to explore. I spot a shelf with some cookware next to a wood stove. On the other side of the room, there are bookshelves. His collection is pretty impressive — I haven’t seen this many books since Trent and I lived together. I wonder what he’s doing now? Damnit. Seles, we’ve been through this – you don’t think about him anymore. That’s twice today…

Back to the situation at hand. So far, this seems pretty typical some loner living out in the woods. Porthos stands nearby, tail standing at attention. I quietly walk over and take a closer look at the cabin’s lone inhabitant – an old man lying in bed. At least, I think he’s old – wrinkles line his pale face and his hair is mostly gray with a few streaks of black still holding out. Lucky guy though – seems like he’s managed to keep most of his hair. I’d guess he’s in his fifties? Yeah, that seems about right.

I don’t see any sort of aura around him. Maybe he died of natural causes? Well, better double check just to make sure, and so I place my hand in front of his face. It’s hard to tell, but I can feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my palm. He’s alive and breathing. Why didn’t he wake up when I knocked? This hermit must sleep like a rock if that didn’t startle him. Something’s not right here. I turn away from the bed and come face to face with a man standing directly beside me.

My heart leaps into my throat. Frantic, I grab the hilt of my katana and rip it from its scabbard, swinging it through the man’s midsection and cleaving him in two. Porthos jumps back and hisses at me. Athos squawks from outside and bursts through the open door, flying circles around the room.

“My Queen! Are you alright!?” He chirps away.

Wait a minute. Huh? The man’s still standing there. No bloody wound. He didn’t even flinch. My sword felt like it passed through thin air. Hold on a second. Am I seeing things again? I blink twice. It’s not a man after all – it’s just the aura of a man. A disembodied aura. Well, this is a first.

“So sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to spook you!” My heart continues to pound as the faint blue outline of a man quietly addresses me. Is it a ghost? Wait a second. I squint at the ghost for a second, then I look back over my shoulder at the old man, asleep in his bed.

“Perhaps I could ask a favor of you?” The shade points at the sleeping man. The puzzle pieces itself together. It’s the old man. Well, his aura, anyways, or maybe his essence would be a better way of putting it. I manage to nod my head a couple times.

“Can you try to wake me up? I seem to have gotten… stuck.” He addresses me politely.

“Uh… huh…” I manage to respond, then I turn towards the bed and poke the old man in the shoulder with the wooden scabbard of my sword. The sleeping hermit doesn’t wake up. I poke him again, harder this time. Nothing. The ghost standing beside me sighs, defeated.

“I was afraid something like this would happen one day. Seems like I am locked out of my own body.” He says, turning away from me with a sigh. He begins muttering to himself. Locked out of his body? That sounds familiar.

“What are you exactly?” I ask the shade. He turns around again.

“Good question. I guess you could call me a traveler, young lady. I have a special power – I can leave my body behind and freely travel the world. You are the second person I have met who can actually see me like this. It is a fantastic gift, but it seems to have… eh… backfired on me.” The shade offers his explanation.

“My Queen… who is it you are speaking to?” Athos’ voice in my head again.

“You can’t see him?” I think back.

“See who?” Athos responds. I look down at Porthos.

“There’s nobody here except the sleeping guy, lady. You crazy?” Porthos’ voice now. I shake my head. Okay. There is a transparent, blue man here that only I can see. Oh well. Stranger things have happened.

“There’s a spirit here.” I explain, then turn back towards the shade. Both of my familiars cock their heads to the side and stare at me in disbelief. Really? Why is that so hard for two magical familiars to believe? Sheesh.

“What do you mean you are locked out? It’s your body, isn’t it?” I ask him.

“It would appear that I’ve been possessed.” The shade says flatly, staring at the bed with a solemn expression. “While I was out, something moved in.” Now the puzzle pieces really start to fit together. This sounds like another case of Morosia. The memory of the white eyed assailant holding the severed heads of the mother and her children flashes through my mind and I shake my head to get it out of there. The shade offers me a quizzical expression.

“Today’s your lucky day then. I just happen to be an exorcist.” The shade’s eyebrows raise up – now it’s his turn to be surprised. I smirk at him.

“Young lady, if you can rid me of that parasite, I will be forever in your debt. Please, help me! I must see my beloved Larissa again…” The man’s voice trembles with urgency. He tries to grab my shoulders and plead with me, but his hands pass right on through. I wave him away, still smirking.

“Relax, old man. I’ll take care of it… but in return, you’ve got to promise to feed me and let me sleep here as long as I want.” The ghost shakes his head up and down with vigor. Porthos meows loudly.

“My pets too.” I add.

“Deal!” He says. I offer my hand for him to shake. He goes to take it, but once again, his hand passes right through me. Close enough. Time to get started. I take a seat next to the bed. After fishing around my satchel for a moment, I find it – the golden mirror. I place it on my lap and look down at it.

“Athos, Porthos – prepare yourselves. We’re going back to the dream world.”

---

Where am I? A bright, full moon hangs overhead, shedding its light on a clearing in the middle of a forest. The surrounding trees loom tall, like dark and ominous strangers. Standing alone, I feel exposed. It seems as if the entire world is asleep. Something rises up from the center of the clearing. It seems… geometric, somehow. What is it?

My boots plod against damp grass as the structure grows larger and sharper. It’s a door. Just a door, no building behind it. Who put this here? My unease melts away into curiosity as I circle the doorway. My knuckles rap against it thrice – knock, knock, knock. It’s solid, sturdy. My fingertips brush against the wood’s grain and I can feel something engraved there. Is this a crescent moon? The craftsmanship is beautiful. Why would someone go through the trouble of making this only to leave it in the middle of nowhere?

“Help…” A meek voice whispers a single word. My blood freezes. Is someone here? My eyes dart left and right as I scan the clearing again. Nobody’s here. Could someone be hiding in the trees? Or maybe I’m hearing things? I hold my breath and listen.

“In here…” There it is again. I didn’t imagine it. It sounds like a woman is trying to speak to me from behind the door. My heart starts to beat faster. Quick footsteps carry me around the other side of the door and back again. Nobody’s there. How could that be possible? My gaze drifts down, towards a translucent glass handle blown into the shape of a seven-pointed star. I wonder if it’s locked?

My outstretched hand hovers over it, hesitating, then my fingers close around the doorknob and twist it open. As soon as the latch clicks, a sudden gust of wind blows the door wide open and it knocks me on my rear. My hair whips around my face, covering my mouth and muffling a surprised gasp. It’s so bright! Light pours through the doorframe, bathing me in silver. My eyes nearly shut as I squint to figure out what I’m looking at. For a second it seems like I’m staring at a beautiful painting of the night sky, complete with a luminescent moon, accompanied by a guard of rolling clouds, and set against a backdrop of a night sky studded with stars. It’s not a painting, though. Those soft, majestic clouds are moving.

Time ticks on as I sit in quiet awe. A magical doorway in the middle of nowhere? I stand up and dust myself off. The wind continues to wail. Shivers race up and down my spine. I poke my head through the opening and peer down. My stomach flutters – the ground gives way at the door’s threshold.

Then the realization hits me: it’s a doorway to the sky. This can’t be real. If it is, it has to be some kind of magic. Hundreds of questions zip through my head – who made this? Why did they make it? What is its purpose? Can the door go to other places too? I think about closing it and opening it again to test that thought, but I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll lose this breathtaking view. I poke my head through the doorframe and look down once more.

A glimmer of light flickers near my feet. It’s very faint, barely perceptible, but I can see it – the reflection of the moonlight against the open sky… but how is that possible? I drop to a crouch and look closer. It seems like there is some sort of translucent pathway leading out from the door. I reach out and try to touch it. The air is firm and smooth, like a bridge made out of glass.

“Please help me…” The voice calls out again and I look up. I still can’t see anybody out there. I wonder how far this bridge goes?

Another weighty realization hits me: if I am going to answer her call, I’ll need to go out there. Will that bridge even support my weight? The bottom of my boot taps against the translucent platform. It feels solid. With one hand on the door frame, I lean my weight against the glass, testing the bridge a little more. So far so good. A tremor shoots up my leg as I stomp the heel of my boot down upon it. No cracks, not even a scuff.

“Hurry…!” She calls to me again and I can sense the urgency in her voice. Deep breath, Seles.

I step through the doorway and onto the bridge. It feels just as sturdy as the earth on the other side, if not more so. A few cautious steps carry me further from safety and out into the night sky. Amazing. The whole world sits beneath me as the moon hangs overhead, larger than I’ve ever seen. For a moment, I forget what I’m doing.

“This way…!” The voice calls out to me again. I cautiously advance, carefully tracking the traces of moonlight reflected along the glass. A misstep here would spell my doom. Another gust of wind crashes against me, threatening to knock me off balance. I gulp. Lights flicker far below me – probably a city. It seems so small, like a castle made of sand. Time feels infinite up here. I continue to walk along the bridge as the doorway gets smaller and smaller behind me.

“Where are you?” I cup my hands to cheeks and call out loudly.

“I’m right here, Celestria…” A raspy voice fills my ears, followed by a bang as the door slams shut. I spin around, startled. The door is gone, replaced by a dark silhouette radiating crimson wrath. That voice… is it the visitor from the other night? The aura is so intense that it looks like a flaming effigy. My hand instinctively reaches for my katana, but it only finds empty air. Not again!

“Mother wants to see you, Celestria.” His raspy voice calls out in a mock sing-song tone, punctuated by a twisted chuckle. The sense of déjà vu gives way to recognition, and with it, dread. It’s not the visitor from the other night. It’s something much worse — it’s him. The Stranger. He’s found me again! The burning silhouette begins to grow…

Shit! I can’t fight up here, I can barely tell where the bridge is! Before I can come up with a plan, he breaks into a sprint, heading right at me. I spin on my heel and start to run away, pushing off the glass with as much power as my legs can muster. The dizzying wind threatens to blow me off the narrow path again. His cackling is getting louder…!

A passing cloud blocks the moon and the reflection that guided my way suddenly disappears. The bridge becomes invisible. I keep running anyways – getting caught would be worse than dying. Please let it keep going straight ahead! Please let the light shine again! Please let me survive this! He’s so close, I can’t outrun him. What do I do!? Someone help me! My foot plunges through empty air and the sensation of weightlessness washes over me as I tumble down. I’m falling! The Stranger’s cackles are drowned by the wind tossing me around like a ragdoll. My eyes squeeze shut, but I can still imagine the earth rushing up towards me, closer and closer. This is it. I’ll die here. At least I got to see that wonderful view before I went…

…

“Your Highness, please wake up!”

My eyes snap open and I sit up, chest heaving, sweat trickling down my temples. My hand reaches to my hip and finds the smooth wooden finish of my katana’s hilt. My eyes snap back and forth like a whip, searching for the Stranger. He’s not there though. Just the open field I made camp in. The moon is gone and I can tell by the warm light washing over me that the sun is up. It was only a dream. A deep sigh of relief escapes me.

“Good morning, your Highness.” A familiar voice that only I can hear. It’s Athos. The little crow skips along the grass and stands beside me.

“… Good morning, Athos.” It takes me a second to catch my breath and respond. I offer him a pat on the head and he wiggles his tail feathers in appreciation.

“Please forgive me for startling you, my Queen, but something has come up.” His beak dips down towards the ground as he spreads his wings — did he just bow to me? Yes, I think he did. For a second, I wonder if I am still dreaming and pinch myself. It hurts. I am definitely awake, but my eyelids feel like iron weights.

“Is something wrong?”

“We are being pursued, your Highness. It seems the guards have learned of your escape.” The little crow points one wing in the direction of the settlement we fled from last night. It seems like I’m always on the run these days, whether I’m awake or asleep. Better get moving then. I slowly climb to my feet and brush the dirt off my dress.

“On the move again? But I hardly slept…” Now it’s Porthos’ turn to chime in. The black cat is curled up on a patch of grass with his eyes shut.

“We don’t have time for this, cat.” Athos chides him. Porthos opens one eye to glare at Athos and hisses at him.

“Porthos, you can nap later. We have to get out of here.” My command is stern. The feline leisurely stands up, arches his back, then saunters over. Now that I think about it, this is the first time I’ve seen him in the daylight. What striking eyes he has, like two vibrant rubies — a stark contrast to his pitch-black fur. Looks like I’ve acquired another handsome pet… now if only I could do something about that attitude of his.

“May I make a suggestion, my Queen?” Athos speaks up again and I give him a nod. “I found a cabin off in the woods to the north. I don’t think the guards will look for us there.” He flaps one of his wings as he explains, as if to better articulate himself.

“Alright then. Athos, take to the skies and lead us there.” My little crow companion responds immediately; with a skip, a hop, and a few flaps of his wings, he takes off, climbing into the sky with ease.

“Porthos, follow Athos and guide me.” The cat flicks his tail back and forth, annoyed, then looks away. I sigh and shake my head. “You can take a long nap once we get to safety.” I continue.

“Promise?” His tail stops, standing at attention.

“Yes, I promise.” With that, we set out, fleeing civilization, and wandering off into the wilderness to avoid capture. After some time, we enter the forest, and then after walking some more, we reach our destination; a rustic log cabin tucked into the forest.

I can’t help but admire the design – a flat face in front, home to two windows on either side of the front door along with a roof reaching up from the ground on either side to meet at the top. Very symmetrical aside from the haphazard patches of moss dotting its walls and the leafy vines stretching down from the roof. Maybe a witch lives here? An old hermit? Or perhaps it’s been deserted? Ooh, how wonderful that would be – a little witch cottage in the woods with nobody around to bother me. That would be a welcome change of pace. First thing’s first though.

“Porthos, it’s almost nap time. Would you do me a favor and scout that cabin? There is a window next to the front door, maybe you can see inside it?”

“… You’re going to make me climb now?” Porthos looks back over his shoulder and swishes his tail back and forth. “Why can’t you do it? You’re taller than I am, after all.” Well, he does have a point there.

“If someone’s home and they see me peering into their window, they might get spooked and tell us to keep walking. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” I smile as I wag my finger at him. Appealing to his interest seems to be the best way to persuade him.

“… Fine, I’ll check it out.” With that, Porthos approaches the building. Instead of going straight to the window, he disappears behind the cabin. A few moments later, he reappears out front again, but from the other side. Then he stops once to sniff the door a few times. Why does it seem like he’s done this before? Next, he leaps up onto the windowsill and peers inside.

“What do you see in there?” I ask.

“… I think there’s a dead guy inside. Well, maybe not dead. He could be asleep. Hard to tell. He’s not moving at all though.” Porthos responds. I nod my head and quietly approach the front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Is anybody home?” I call out. No response.

“He hasn’t moved. I think he’s dead.” Porthos comments. A sudden rush of air followed by a few stray feathers announces the return of Athos. He perches himself on a nearby tree limb, surveying the cabin.

“What was it that Trent used to say? Something like, ‘dead men don’t own anything,’ right?” I think to myself. Well, he was right. I wonder what Trent’s up to? Now, now, Seles, don’t get distracted. We don’t think about him anymore, remember?

Knock, knock, KNOCK.

Still no response. Well, breaking in could be forgiven if I save his life, right? On the other hand, I could get blamed for another crime I didn’t commit. Oh well. Time to roll the dice. I try the door handle. Why is it unlocked? That seems strange, although I don’t think he got many visitors out here. With a light push, the door swings open and I step inside the dwelling, Porthos following at my heel.

“I shall watch the door and warn you if anyone approaches, my Queen.” Athos says. Good thinking. I turn my attention to the cabin’s interior. It’s dark – not too many windows in here. Wait, didn’t I help myself to that guard’s lighter? My hand fishes around inside my satchel and my fingers close around cold metal – there it is. The cap flicks open and I thumb the wheel, igniting the wick. A soft orange flame sparks to life.

Now I can see things a bit better. Nearby, two candles and some scattered pieces of paper on a small table and a couple on the floor beside it. I step forward and light the candles, then pocket my lighter and continue to explore. I spot a shelf with some cookware next to a wood stove. On the other side of the room, there are bookshelves. His collection is pretty impressive — I haven’t seen this many books since Trent and I lived together. I wonder what he’s doing now? Damnit. Seles, we’ve been through this – you don’t think about him anymore. That’s twice today…

Back to the situation at hand. So far, this seems pretty typical some loner living out in the woods. Porthos stands nearby, tail standing at attention. I quietly walk over and take a closer look at the cabin’s lone inhabitant – an old man lying in bed. At least, I think he’s old – wrinkles line his pale face and his hair is mostly gray with a few streaks of black still holding out. Lucky guy though – seems like he’s managed to keep most of his hair. I’d guess he’s in his fifties? Yeah, that seems about right.

I don’t see any sort of aura around him. Maybe he died of natural causes? Well, better double check just to make sure, and so I place my hand in front of his face. It’s hard to tell, but I can feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my palm. He’s alive and breathing. Why didn’t he wake up when I knocked? This hermit must sleep like a rock if that didn’t startle him. Something’s not right here. I turn away from the bed and come face to face with a man standing directly beside me.

My heart leaps into my throat. Frantic, I grab the hilt of my katana and rip it from its scabbard, swinging it through the man’s midsection and cleaving him in two. Porthos jumps back and hisses at me. Athos squawks from outside and bursts through the open door, flying circles around the room.

“My Queen! Are you alright!?” He chirps away.

Wait a minute. Huh? The man’s still standing there. No bloody wound. He didn’t even flinch. My sword felt like it passed through thin air. Hold on a second. Am I seeing things again? I blink twice. It’s not a man after all – it’s just the aura of a man. A disembodied aura. Well, this is a first.

“So sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to spook you!” My heart continues to pound as the faint blue outline of a man quietly addresses me. Is it a ghost? Wait a second. I squint at the ghost for a second, then I look back over my shoulder at the old man, asleep in his bed.

“Perhaps I could ask a favor of you?” The shade points at the sleeping man. The puzzle pieces itself together. It’s the old man. Well, his aura, anyways, or maybe his essence would be a better way of putting it. I manage to nod my head a couple times.

“Can you try to wake me up? I seem to have gotten… stuck.” He addresses me politely.

“Uh… huh…” I manage to respond, then I turn towards the bed and poke the old man in the shoulder with the wooden scabbard of my sword. The sleeping hermit doesn’t wake up. I poke him again, harder this time. Nothing. The ghost standing beside me sighs, defeated.

“I was afraid something like this would happen one day. Seems like I am locked out of my own body.” He says, turning away from me with a sigh. He begins muttering to himself. Locked out of his body? That sounds familiar.

“What are you exactly?” I ask the shade. He turns around again.

“Good question. I guess you could call me a traveler, young lady. I have a special power – I can leave my body behind and freely travel the world. You are the second person I have met who can actually see me like this. It is a fantastic gift, but it seems to have… eh… backfired on me.” The shade offers his explanation.

“My Queen… who is it you are speaking to?” Athos’ voice in my head again.

“You can’t see him?” I think back.

“See who?” Athos responds. I look down at Porthos.

“There’s nobody here except the sleeping guy, lady. You crazy?” Porthos’ voice now. I shake my head. Okay. There is a transparent, blue man here that only I can see. Oh well. Stranger things have happened.

“There’s a spirit here.” I explain, then turn back towards the shade. Both of my familiars cock their heads to the side and stare at me in disbelief. Really? Why is that so hard for two magical familiars to believe? Sheesh.

“What do you mean you are locked out? It’s your body, isn’t it?” I ask him.

“It would appear that I’ve been possessed.” The shade says flatly, staring at the bed with a solemn expression. “While I was out, something moved in.” Now the puzzle pieces really start to fit together. This sounds like another case of Morosia. The memory of the white eyed assailant holding the severed heads of the mother and her children flashes through my mind and I shake my head to get it out of there. The shade offers me a quizzical expression.

“Today’s your lucky day then. I just happen to be an exorcist.” The shade’s eyebrows raise up – now it’s his turn to be surprised. I smirk at him.

“Young lady, if you can rid me of that parasite, I will be forever in your debt. Please, help me! I must see my beloved Larissa again…” The man’s voice trembles with urgency. He tries to grab my shoulders and plead with me, but his hands pass right on through. I wave him away, still smirking.

“Relax, old man. I’ll take care of it… but in return, you’ve got to promise to feed me and let me sleep here as long as I want.” The ghost shakes his head up and down with vigor. Porthos meows loudly.

“My pets too.” I add.

“Deal!” He says. I offer my hand for him to shake. He goes to take it, but once again, his hand passes right through me. Close enough. Time to get started. I take a seat next to the bed. After fishing around my satchel for a moment, I find it – the golden mirror. I place it on my lap and look down at it.

“Athos, Porthos – prepare yourselves. We’re going back to the dream world.”

A SAGE, A DEMON, AND A GAME
Written by Jungle, (C) 2021, all rights reserved.

I know this place.

Four white walls, a white ceiling, and a matching floor, all smooth and spotless. A bare cot in the corner of the room illuminated by one lonely lightbulb.

How long has it been since I left this shithole?

“Wake up, Celestria.” A monotone voice addresses the room with its grating drone. The tiny hairs on my forearms jump upright, wavering like a tightrope walker crossing a perilous line. My brow furrows. Looking back towards the cot, I spot the hazy outline of a little girl sitting by herself. She hugs her knees to her chest as if they were a shield. So helpless – a feeling long forgotten. What I haven’t forgotten is how I suffered on that little cot, though.

It’s always strange to see yourself in a dream. How many days has her stomach gnawed at itself? Since her cracked lips knew the touch of clean water? It was difficult to keep count of those things. And there it is – that telltale knock, knock, knock of bony knuckles on sheet metal. It was time for another examination. Her tiny frame shudders with dread as the door swings aside…

My eyes snap open and I freeze. Something is hovering inches away from my face. Nostrils flare, hungrily devouring my scent. Two eyes, shadowed and vacant, sit affixed beside gaunt cheekbones. I don’t move. I don’t even breath. Am I still dreaming? No, the stench of gore is too vivid for this to be another dream.

My hands curl into fists. Soft cotton sheets meet my fingers instead of the smooth rosewood of my sword’s hilt. Where is my sword…? My heart beats like a war drum on a steady approach. It still hasn’t moved. Time ticks on in silence as it studies me, each grain of sand slipping through the hourglass one… by… one…

It straightens up. A lantern flickers in the corner of my eye. The silhouette stands tall and motionless like a monolith. It radiates an intense aura – deep purple, the color of loathing. Scan the room without moving my head, looking for my sword – no good, the lantern barely casts any light. Just shadows and the stranger beside my bed. Wait. Just shadows? What about the children? The mother? I can’t sense them at all. Goosebumps up and down my arms now.

That’s when I notice the sound. Drip, drip. Drip, drip. Right beside the bed. My surroundings begin to sharpen. The visitor is holding something at its side, but it’s too dark to see clearly. Could it be a thief making off with my host’s belongings? The thought energizes me to action and I sit up in bed. Sword or no sword, I can handle a thief.

“Come with me.” The voice of a man, scratchy and hoarse. The visitor turns away and steps towards the door, into the light of the lantern.

My lips part and my heart dives into my stomach. I lock eyes with the little girl who had begged me to save her mother just this morning. Her severed head, along with her mother and brother’s, hang suspended by a fistful of hair. Vacant eyes, scared and pleading, mouths agape. The door swings open and they disappear with the specter, but not before the sight burns itself into my memory.

Rage. You won’t get away with this, you son of a bitch! I spring out of the bed and grab the lantern. My sword. Where is my sword? Stomp around the cottage looking for one thing and one thing only – my sword. Where is it? There it is, propped up by the window. Grab it, rip the scabbard off. A bloodcurdling scream from outside. Someone saw it? Lantern in one hand, naked blade in the other, I burst out of the cottage with murder in my eyes.

Two hazy outlines in the street before me. I recognize one – the specter, radiating a hatred that might match my own. A slumped figure lying on the ground behind it – another victim? Another life cut short? Quick footsteps carry me forward and I rip my katana through its back, biting into the bone. Not deep enough. It staggers forward, snarls, and turns towards me. Face to face again in the middle of the street. Dead, white eyes. Eyes like mine. It bares its teeth and I respond in kind. Neither of us move.

Angry shouting in the distance. It’s getting louder. I see lights approaching from a distance.

“What are you?” It snarls at me. Don’t speak, just die, you bastard! My blade slices through empty air as it ducks down. It’s fast. I follow up with another cut, but it doesn’t connect and I stumble forward. The specter takes the opportunity to dart past me. Square up again, but it’s already gone. Disappeared into the darkness.

Where did it go!? A sharp hiss as I inhale through clenched teeth. It’s not human. It can’t be. It’s too quick. I can’t see well enough to tell where it might have gone.

“Don’t move!” I turn out of reflex. Something hard cracks me in the jaw and the world spins sideways. I stagger and fall to the ground. Flagstone on bare skin. A circle of lantern lights dance a drunken waltz before everything goes black.

…

Floating now. Head hurts. Heavy footsteps. Loud voices. Make it stop. I want to go back to sleep…

…

My eyes are open again. It’s dark and I’m alone. My head still hurts. I still feel stone pressing against my back. My sword is missing again. So are my my sandals and my satchel. Did I leave them in the cottage? Groan. What is this place?

“Hello…?” My jaw throbs as I call out to the darkness.

“She’s awake now.” Someone thinks. A man nearby. No aura. Is he in another room?

“Where am I?” I ask. A warm light filters through the window in front of me, parted by three iron bars.  

“You’re in prison, witch.” A man’s voice calls out from behind the light. I can’t see his face. Looking around, I confirm that I am sitting in a dingy prison cell. Shit…

“Why am I here?” My question is met with a gruff growl.

“Why do you think, witch?” The guard spits back.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if I knew, asshole!” Now it’s my turn to snarl. I stand up and nearly fall over – it’s still hard to balance. My outstretched hand finds the wall and I use it to steady myself.

“Has the magic rotted your brain, witch? Or are human lives so insignificant to you that you cannot remember the four you just ended?” His voice burns with righteous anger. Oh no. They think that I killed them? Didn’t they see the culprit flee!?

“You idiots! It wasn’t me. I fought the murderer! You let him escape!?” I snap back at him.

“We caught you red-handed. I’ve got your bloody sword right here, too. You’ll be hung tomorrow morning without a trial, so enjoy the last few hours of life you have left. Don’t get any big ideas, either!” The fire in his voice lingers. I groan again. How am I going to get out of this mess? A deep sigh escapes my lips.

Alright, Seles. Calm down. Think. You’ve escaped from a prison once before, haven’t you? Yes, I have. First thing’s first.

“Athos… can you hear me?” My thoughts echo into the void. Silence. A cold sweat creeps down the back of my neck. Did they break the mirror!?

“Yes, my Queen. I can hear you.” A familiar voice that only I can hear.

“Where are you, Athos?” I hear the guard shuffling around outside.

“I am in the cottage, my Queen. The cat is here with me.” The cottage? Damn, I must have left my mirror and my sandals there. How stupid of me…

“Come forth then. I summon you to this world. Bring Porthos with you. I need your help.” My familiars might not be as powerful in the real world, but they can at least fetch my things for me. I hear a feline meow loudly in protest.

“Already bossing me around? Sheesh. I was just taking a nap.” A new voice now – that must be Porthos, The Goblin Cat. My new familiar.

“You belong to me now, cat. You are bound to my bidding. Now, listen carefully. Porthos, you are to fetch my belongings from the cottage. Take my mirror, sandals, and satchel, then wait for us on the edge of town in a secluded place. That is your task.” I rapidly rattle off my orders.

“You’re making me carry your things? Why me? Can’t the bird do it instead? And why is my name Porthos? Don’t I get any say in that!?” Porthos hisses back.

“Because I said so. Stop arguing with me and do as I say, or your new name will be Mr. Stinky Bottom!” Didn’t I tell Athos to show him the ropes? Another sigh escapes me.

“Fine…!” He yowls.

“What are your orders, my Queen?” Athos chimes in, as loyal and obedient as ever. I hope he rubs off on Porthos soon.

“Come to me. I need to borrow your sight so I can get out of here.” I respond. No need for directions or a location – Athos can sense my presence.

“At once, my Queen.” Athos responds. With that, silence returns. Only one thing left to do now and that is bust out of this filthy prison cell. How am I going to do that…?

A sly grin creeps across my lips as I step towards the door. Peering out the barred window, I spot the guard sitting next to the door, back against the wall as he smokes a cigarette. Seems like it’s just us here. This must be solitary confinement. Perfect. I couldn’t ask for a better set-up.

“Hey, you. If you’re just going to hang me without a trial, I think I am entitled to a final request.” My voice is sultry, radiating with hidden power. The guard doesn’t bother to look at me, though.

“Let me guess… you want to get laid one last time before you die? Nice try, witch, but I’m no fool.” The guard’s response is as gruff as ever. Looks like I’m dealing with a seasoned veteran here. No matter.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You wouldn’t be able to handle me anyways.” My voice continues to ooze with the hidden power of suggestion. He won’t be able to hold out for long, not when he’s sitting a few feet away from me.

“… What is it then?” He asks. That’s right, fall under my spell…

“I want a smoke. Isn’t it proper to give someone a smoke before they’re wrongfully accused of murder and executed?” My voice softens, pleading with him, but my eyes are glittering with anticipation. He’ll fall for it.

“Get your own, witch.” His voice has lost some of its edge, but he’s still holding out. We have a tough customer here, but he’ll crack.

“But I want one of yours. Besides, I didn’t kill anyone… I mean, just look at me. I’m not a witch! I’m a medicine woman!” I pretend to pout. C’mon, you bastard. Take the bait!

“If I give you one, will you shut up for the rest of the night?” Finally, he turns his head to look up at the window framing my face. I nod my head emphatically. Just a little more…

“Fine then. One cigarette. Just one.” Now he stands up and reaches into his pocket before withdrawing a small, flat tin. He opens it, revealing several cigarettes. He fingers one and flicks it through the window bars. It hits me square in the forehead before it falls to the floor. I crouch down and pick it up, then place it between my lips.

“I need a light.” I ask with my sweetest, most innocent voice. I grab two of the window bars and press my face between then, cigarette dangling from my lips. Just a little more…

“Fine. Hold still.” The guard fishes a square metal lighter out of his pocket, then flicks it open and strikes the wick with a practiced motion. Not bad. The flame draws near to the end of the cigarette and I can’t help but smile. Too easy.

My hands dart out from behind the bars to grab his wrist. My fingers find the bare skin on his forearm. Just like that, I’ve won.

“You belong to me now.” My voice reverberates throughout the inside of his skull, impossibly loud. His eyes go wide and he freezes in place. Not so tough now, are you, big guy? You’re mine for the next five minutes or more. I release his wrist.

“Light my cigarette. Now.” The guard proceeds to light my cigarette. My lips pucker as I take a long draw before blowing a cloud of smoke in his face. His eyes water and I note the tinge of sapphire emanating from his pupils – the telltale sign of a successful possession.

“Unlock the cell and let me out.” The guard doesn’t hesitate to pull the keyring from his belt and after a few moments, I hear the cylinders in the lock beginning to turn. A second later, the door swings open and I calmly step outside of the prison cell.

“Fetch my sword and give me the keys.” The guard complies with this command as well. He’s nothing more than a puppet on a string now. As I grasp my sword, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. Nearly done here, soon I’ll be on my way… but what to do with this dolt?

“Give me the keys. Strip naked, leave your clothes on the floor, then get in the cell and go to sleep.”  My final command. The guard does as he’s told and I lock him inside the cell before I help myself to his cloak, boots, and some of his other effects, donning them all to make a somewhat convincing disguise. My sword finds its home again, inside my waist sash, then I draw the hood of his cloak tight around my face. Lantern in one hand, cigarette in the other, I make my way down the hallway, keeping my head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Piece of cake.

There is hardly a soul awake to interfere as I use the lights along the ceiling as waypoints to mark my way. The guards that I do pass by pay no attention to me. This place seems pretty understaffed. I wonder why? Probably getting drunk somewhere. No matter — soon enough I find myself walking out the front door of the prison without anyone raising a finger to stop me.  

“I am here, my Queen.” I hear a familiar voice once again and I look up. A bright orange aura catches my eyes. It’s small, like a bird. It must be Athos posing as a crow again. I nod to him.

“Fly overhead and guide me out of this town. You are my eyes now.”  With that, Athos unfurls his wings and takes flight, circling high above the town. His bird’s eye view of the settlement and its roads flashes before my eyes.

“I need directions. This city is like a maze to me.”

“Yes, my Queen. Take a right into the alleyway after another twenty paces.” He chirps in reply. Such a faithful little friend. What would I do without him?

I keep my eyes on the ground in front of me, careful not to bump into anyone or anything as I follow his directions. After all, I can’t see more than a few feet in front of my face, not even in broad daylight. Magical eyes are not without their pitfalls, I guess.

After walking for some time, the flagstone gives way to loose gravel. The din of the taverns and gambling halls are long gone now. A small, light red aura appears in the distance. The silhouette gradually becomes clear – it’s a small cat. This must be Porthos. He hisses as we approach, but thankfully he’s much less intimidating in this form.

I kneel down close so I can see him better. A little black cat, nondescript except for his ruby red eyes and streaks of white radiating outward from his wet little nose. Reaching out, I offer him a little pat on the head, but he turns away and saunters off. Fine, be that way. I pick up my satchel and sling it around my neck and shoulder.

“Well done, you two.”I offer my familiars a heartfelt job well done.

“Thank you, my Queen! It is a privilege to serve you.” Athos offers his regal reply, formal as ever. Porthos just meows and keeps on strutting down the road in front of me, tail raised high. The world begins to brighten now – that must be the dawn sun creeping over the horizon. The sun… something I’ve only seen clearly in drawings, pictures, and paintings.  

“Where shall we go now, my Queen?” Athos’ query reigns in my wandering mind. I ponder as I put one foot in front of the other, keeping the cat in front of me as the little crow bounces down the road beside me.

Good question. I’m not sure where I want to go next, but I know I want to put everything that just happened as far behind me as I possibly can. Would I like to avenge that little girl and her family? Of course, but even if I could find that specter, I’m not confident I can kill it. Even if I could, it won’t bring them back. What’s done is done. They were strangers, kind ones, but strangers nonetheless, and tragedies like this happen every day. I’m no hero. Heroes wind up dead.

“To the next township, Athos.” And so it goes.

“A VISITOR”
Written by Jungle, (C) 2021, all rights reserved.

Trust yourself. Believe in the vision.

I crouch in wait at the base of an aging birch tree, drawing the gray fur of the Wolf Mother around me to ward off the chill. The familiar smell keeps me calm and drives away the anticipation of the hunt. Even still, I am cold. Off in the distance, I can see the great stone wall marked by a crescent moon. Behind it looms the True Moon, full and bright. With or without its light, I see all – moss draping the wall, a snake slithering through the dead leaves on the forest floor, a lone hare warily sniffing the air, the horned owl staring at it from a nearby tree bough… nothing escapes the eyes of a hunter.

Heavy clouds threaten to hide the moon and drench me in rain. I grit my fangs and growl a warning at the sky. My prey could arrive at any moment, so I cannot afford the smoke of a campfire. Arté saw the hunting party beneath the light of the True Moon. Her visions always came to pass. This is the third night of the True Moon, and it could only last two more nights at most. There is no mistaking the landmark either – there are other walls in the world, yes, but I have seen none marked with the sign of the moon besides this one, the one that guards the Fields of the Fallen.

I scaled that wall once when I was young and curious. Inside the walls, there is a valley of iron that houses a field of sand, perfectly flat and full of forgotten bones. None of the skulls I saw belonged to beasts. I recognized it as a sacred place, a place that Death visits often. I pondered its purpose, knowing life must be taken so that life may continue, but I had never seen a beast that could consume so many. As a younger woman, I was puzzled, but now I grasp the truth: they were consumed by the Moon, a beast so great that it can chase the Sun across the sky. Knowing this, I would not choose to disturb the dead again. Let them rest: they belong to the Moon now. It is the way of the seasons.

The owl swoops down from its perch and tackles the hare, rending the rabbit with its talons, beating its powerful wings to stay upright. The hare struggles and cries out as it is ripped apart. The owl squeezes tight with its claws and tears at the hare’s throat with its beak. The hare goes limp, and the owl begins to peck away at its meal. Life is given so that life may continue. This is the way of the seasons; as the summer burns away the spring, so does the winter bury the fall, and so it goes.

The sound of fluttering wings fills my ears. I look up and spot a cloud of bats take off into the night, off to the east, near the great wall of the Moon, where a city of stone lay in ruin. My prey has arrived… and they are clumsy. I stand and pull the great bow off my back, fixing one end in the earth and bracing it against my boot. The Ashwood bow staff stands as tall as I, and with a shaft as wide as my wrist. The wood creaks as I bend and string it. The bowstring hums quietly as I pluck it once to test the tension.

Arté had noted that the invaders carried rifles. She worries too much and she also thinks too highly of the rifle. A gun is just a tool, a loud one. The hunter is the one that kills, not the tool. This place is a full day north from our home, the Ivy City. Every time the Unfed have come to raid our home, they have come from the north. Killing three men with a bow would be easier than killing dozens with a rifle. Arté could not argue with this, and so I set out alone.

Long strides carry me through the forest and towards the stone forts and towers. Their empty windows gaze at me like dead eyes, silently watching each step. The winds that carry the gray clouds moving overhead pass through the windows and whisper their secrets to me. The stone towers are now home to bats and other beasts that might give away my presence, so I stay outside. A hunter’s greatest tool is surprise. The wind also carries with it the smell of my prey; the scent of liquor is strong and it is not carried by any beasts besides the ones I have come to hunt.

I soon find myself standing atop one of the many bridges joining the winding roads that crisscross the city. My father had a word for this type of rock: concrete. It was made by hands, not by nature, and it was difficult to destroy. Surveying my surroundings from up on high, I see nothing but cold stone forts staring back with their empty eyes. It was a place like this where I’d lost him. Blood trickles from my lip as I bite down on it, stifling the memories of the past. The hunt was not the time to remember the dead. The pain brings focus with it.

A stag bounds into view and it pauses at a crossroads, unsure of where to run. I fight the instinct to draw an arrow. The resounding crack of a gunshot startles the stag and it leaps away, now bounding down the road. I drop into a crouch and peer over the edge of the bridge. The sound of angry voices and stomping boots echo against the stone ruins lining the streets. By the time the hunting party made it to the intersection, the stag had run off down another road, out of sight again. The confounded men now stand in the middle of the crossroads, arguing with one another.

“You fucking idiot! Why did you shoot!?” One man’s gruff voice rings out above the others. He stands tall and I am reminded for a moment of a brown bear rearing back onto its hindquarters. He and the two other men turn and confront the fourth. I can tell the fourth is the runt of the pack by his small size as well as his slumped shoulders. No, I am mistaken; the fourth is not a man, he is just a pup.

“I had a clear shot! It’s not my fault, it’s this piece of shit rifle! You guys took the good ones and left me with this garbage!” The runt fires back. His barks are shrill and tense, full of fear. I continue to watch as I reach behind my head. My fingers close around the feather fletching of an arrow, which I draw from its quiver and notch against my bowstring.

“Give me that!” Another one of the men, also much larger than the pup, stows his own rifle by slinging it behind his back, then he grabs the runt’s weapon. He holds it up, aiming down the sights for a moment, then pulling the bolt back and inspecting the breach. I can see his lips move as he murmurs something but he does not give the rifle back to the pup yet.

“I told you already. You don’t shoot alone. You wait until the rest of us have a shot too. That is how we operate! You just cost us our first real meal in days!” The leader speaks again, still angry. “You shot first because you wanted to say you killed it, dumbass!” He ends his angry rant by cuffing the young one with the back of his fist. The runt’s head snaps to the side with the impact. No response from the runt here. The men turn away from the stunned pup, whispering to one another, and I can’t make out their words. I can guess what they’re saying though. Arté’s visions have always come true. I think about how many paces it would take to reach the pack: about sixty, I’d say.

“Alright Petros, it’s been decided…” The leader speaks to the runt as the other two men circle behind him. The young one looks over his shoulder nervously, not sure what to do. I can sense fear and desperation now. One of the men slams the butt of his rifle into the runt’s back and he yelps in pain. The other man follows up by kicking him in the back of the kneecap, dropping him to all fours. The leader continues to address the pup.

“Since you scared away our dinner… you’re going to take its place, Petros.” The leader lowers his voice now and I can barely make out the words. He levels his rifle at the runt. A new scent invades my senses as a little pool begins to puddle up by the cub’s knee. One of the men notices it, points, and starts to laugh. The other man waves his hand at the leader and points at a machete hanging from the leader’s belt. My jaw clenches in disgust. These are the Unfed.

“You’re right, not worth the ammunition.” The leader says as he slings his rifle and draws the machete instead. The man standing behind the boy kicks him in flank, flattening him out onto the concrete. He slings his rifle and kneels so that he can wrench the boy’s arm away from his body and straighten it out, pinning it flat against the concrete. The third man plants a foot on the pup’s back, pressing his weight down on him. The muzzle of his stolen rifle rests against the back of his head.

“This has been a long time coming, you little shit…” Now the leader positions himself to take the pup’s arm with his machete. I stand up and take aim. The muscles in my arm flex against the mounting tension of the bowstring. Breath in. I imagine the arrow piercing flesh and adjust my aim. Breath out. The leader raises his machete on high and the tension disappears as I let the arrow take off towards its target: the only one with a rifle in his hands.

“What the fuck!?” The leader yells as my target staggers forward and slams into him. I notch another arrow as I breath in again. The second man releases the boy’s arm and stands up, fumbling for the rifle slung over his back. I picture my arrow piercing his chest as I breath out and release. The man raises his rifle and turns towards me just as my second arrow tears through his flesh and impales him. Blood leaks from between his clenched teeth as he falls to his knees. One left.

“Wait! Don’t kill me! Don’t!” The leader shoves the dying man away and raises both hands in surrender. He looks around with the wild eyes of a doomed animal and his machete clangs against the concrete. I notch another arrow and breath in once more. I can see the final shot hitting its mark. I breath out, pause, and release the straining arrow.

It whistles through the air before finding its new home in the leader’s throat.  The leader falls backwards onto the street, clutching at the wooden arrow shaft sticking out of his neck as his boots kick the ground in agony. All three of them bleed out before I can make my way over. The young pup is still curled up on the ground like a newborn, passed out in a puddle of piss and spilled blood. What a sorry sight.

“… Boy.” My voice does nothing to rouse him. I nudge his leg with the tip of my boot a few times. Still nothing. I stand over him now, planting one foot on either side of his torso. I bend at the waist, leaning down to slap his cheek. Still nothing. Did he die of fright? I slap him like I mean it this time and then he wakes with a start.

“W-w-wolf…!” He yelps as he looks up at me in fear and confusion. I cock my head to the side, then realize what’s going on. Right. I peel my skull headdress back to reveal my face, but it does not bring him any comfort. I should have expected this kind of reaction. After all, a minute ago he was about to become a meal.

“W-w-woman!? Wolf woman!? Wolf woman!!” He continues to cry out in fear as he holds his hands up in front of his face, as if that would protect him. I sigh, looking up at the True Moon for a moment. Don’t doubt yourself, Roré. You know this boy’s value. I look back down at the boy and plant one hand on his chest to keep him from moving. Then I ball my other hand into a fist and strike him through an opening in his guard, careful to hold back so I don’t kill him by accident. My punch connects squarely with one side of his chin and his head snaps to the side. His eyes roll back into their sockets. All is quiet.

I look down at the boy and inspect him. He’s young, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. His hair is so short that he almost looks bald and so I can’t tell what color it is. The blood splatters on his face glisten in the moonlight. It looks like his lip is split, but otherwise he’s not too badly hurt. His complexion is pale and judging by his cheek bones, he wasn’t very well fed. Truly the runt of the pack. No matter to me, I’m not here for a meal.

Not long after, I find myself entering the woods south of the city, this time with a teenage boy slung over my shoulder, bound and gagged, but still alive. This young cub, betrayed by the Unfed, would prove to be a valuable source of information for my pack. He knows where our enemy sleeps, he knows their number, and he knows their habits. Whether or not he is able to run with the pack is less important than the information he will provide us.

The hunt is over and it is time to return home.

THE HUNTRESS AND THE LOST CUB
Written by Jungle.
© 2021, all rights reserved.

Where am I? A bright, full moon hangs overhead, shedding its light on a clearing in the middle of a forest. The surrounding trees loom tall, like dark and ominous strangers. Standing alone, I feel exposed. It seems as if the entire world is asleep. Something rises up from the center of the clearing. It seems… geometric, somehow. What is it?

My boots plod against damp grass as the structure grows larger and sharper. It’s a door. Just a door, no building behind it. Who put this here? My unease melts away into curiosity as I circle the doorway. My knuckles rap against it thrice – knock, knock, knock. It’s solid, sturdy. My fingertips brush against the wood’s grain and I can feel something engraved there. Is this a crescent moon? The craftsmanship is beautiful. Why would someone go through the trouble of making this only to leave it in the middle of nowhere?

“Help…” A meek voice whispers a single word. My blood freezes. Is someone here? My eyes dart left and right as I scan the clearing again. Nobody’s here. Could someone be hiding in the trees? Or maybe I’m hearing things? I hold my breath and listen.

“In here…” There it is again. I didn’t imagine it. It sounds like a woman is trying to speak to me from behind the door. My heart starts to beat faster. Quick footsteps carry me around the other side of the door and back again. Nobody’s there. How could that be possible? My gaze drifts down, towards a translucent glass handle blown into the shape of a seven-pointed star. I wonder if it’s locked?

My outstretched hand hovers over it, hesitating, then my fingers close around the doorknob and twist it open. As soon as the latch clicks, a sudden gust of wind blows the door wide open and it knocks me on my rear. My hair whips around my face, covering my mouth and muffling a surprised gasp. It’s so bright! Light pours through the doorframe, bathing me in silver. My eyes nearly shut as I squint to figure out what I’m looking at. For a second it seems like I’m staring at a beautiful painting of the night sky, complete with a luminescent moon, accompanied by a guard of rolling clouds, and set against a backdrop of a night sky studded with stars. It’s not a painting, though. Those soft, majestic clouds are moving.

Time ticks on as I sit in quiet awe. A magical doorway in the middle of nowhere? I stand up and dust myself off. The wind continues to wail. Shivers race up and down my spine. I poke my head through the opening and peer down. My stomach flutters – the ground gives way at the door’s threshold.

Then the realization hits me: it’s a doorway to the sky. This can’t be real. If it is, it has to be some kind of magic. Hundreds of questions zip through my head – who made this? Why did they make it? What is its purpose? Can the door go to other places too? I think about closing it and opening it again to test that thought, but I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll lose this breathtaking view. I poke my head through the doorframe and look down once more.

A glimmer of light flickers near my feet. It’s very faint, barely perceptible, but I can see it – the reflection of the moonlight against the open sky… but how is that possible? I drop to a crouch and look closer. It seems like there is some sort of translucent pathway leading out from the door. I reach out and try to touch it. The air is firm and smooth, like a bridge made out of glass.

“Please help me…” The voice calls out again and I look up. I still can’t see anybody out there. I wonder how far this bridge goes?

Another weighty realization hits me: if I am going to answer her call, I’ll need to go out there. Will that bridge even support my weight? The bottom of my boot taps against the translucent platform. It feels solid. With one hand on the door frame, I lean my weight against the glass, testing the bridge a little more. So far so good. A tremor shoots up my leg as I stomp the heel of my boot down upon it. No cracks, not even a scuff.

“Hurry…!” She calls to me again and I can sense the urgency in her voice. Deep breath, Seles.

I step through the doorway and onto the bridge. It feels just as sturdy as the earth on the other side, if not more so. A few cautious steps carry me further from safety and out into the night sky. Amazing. The whole world sits beneath me as the moon hangs overhead, larger than I’ve ever seen. For a moment, I forget what I’m doing.

“This way…!” The voice calls out to me again. I cautiously advance, carefully tracking the traces of moonlight reflected along the glass. A misstep here would spell my doom. Another gust of wind crashes against me, threatening to knock me off balance. I gulp. Lights flicker far below me – probably a city. It seems so small, like a castle made of sand. Time feels infinite up here. I continue to walk along the bridge as the doorway gets smaller and smaller behind me.

“Where are you?” I cup my hands to cheeks and call out loudly.

“I’m right here, Celestria…” A raspy voice fills my ears, followed by a bang as the door slams shut. I spin around, startled. The door is gone, replaced by a dark silhouette radiating crimson wrath. That voice… is it the visitor from the other night? The aura is so intense that it looks like a flaming effigy. My hand instinctively reaches for my katana, but it only finds empty air. Not again!

“Mother wants to see you, Celestria.” His raspy voice calls out in a mock sing-song tone, punctuated by a twisted chuckle. The sense of déjà vu gives way to recognition, and with it, dread. It’s not the visitor from the other night. It’s something much worse — it’s him. The Stranger. He’s found me again! The burning silhouette begins to grow…

Shit! I can’t fight up here, I can barely tell where the bridge is! Before I can come up with a plan, he breaks into a sprint, heading right at me. I spin on my heel and start to run away, pushing off the glass with as much power as my legs can muster. The dizzying wind threatens to blow me off the narrow path again. His cackling is getting louder…!

A passing cloud blocks the moon and the reflection that guided my way suddenly disappears. The bridge becomes invisible. I keep running anyways – getting caught would be worse than dying. Please let it keep going straight ahead! Please let the light shine again! Please let me survive this! He’s so close, I can’t outrun him. What do I do!? Someone help me! My foot plunges through empty air and the sensation of weightlessness washes over me as I tumble down. I’m falling! The Stranger’s cackles are drowned by the wind tossing me around like a ragdoll. My eyes squeeze shut, but I can still imagine the earth rushing up towards me, closer and closer. This is it. I’ll die here. At least I got to see that wonderful view before I went…

…

“Your Highness, please wake up!”

My eyes snap open and I sit up, chest heaving, sweat trickling down my temples. My hand reaches to my hip and finds the smooth wooden finish of my katana’s hilt. My eyes snap back and forth like a whip, searching for the Stranger. He’s not there though. Just the open field I made camp in. The moon is gone and I can tell by the warm light washing over me that the sun is up. It was only a dream. A deep sigh of relief escapes me.

“Good morning, your Highness.” A familiar voice that only I can hear. It’s Athos. The little crow skips along the grass and stands beside me.

“… Good morning, Athos.” It takes me a second to catch my breath and respond. I offer him a pat on the head and he wiggles his tail feathers in appreciation.

“Please forgive me for startling you, my Queen, but something has come up.” His beak dips down towards the ground as he spreads his wings — did he just bow to me? Yes, I think he did. For a second, I wonder if I am still dreaming and pinch myself. It hurts. I am definitely awake, but my eyelids feel like iron weights.

“Is something wrong?”

“We are being pursued, your Highness. It seems the guards have learned of your escape.” The little crow points one wing in the direction of the settlement we fled from last night. It seems like I’m always on the run these days, whether I’m awake or asleep. Better get moving then. I slowly climb to my feet and brush the dirt off my dress.

“On the move again? But I hardly slept…” Now it’s Porthos’ turn to chime in. The black cat is curled up on a patch of grass with his eyes shut.

“We don’t have time for this, cat.” Athos chides him. Porthos opens one eye to glare at Athos and hisses at him.

“Porthos, you can nap later. We have to get out of here.” My command is stern. The feline leisurely stands up, arches his back, then saunters over. Now that I think about it, this is the first time I’ve seen him in the daylight. What striking eyes he has, like two vibrant rubies — a stark contrast to his pitch-black fur. Looks like I’ve acquired another handsome pet… now if only I could do something about that attitude of his.

“May I make a suggestion, my Queen?” Athos speaks up again and I give him a nod. “I found a cabin off in the woods to the north. I don’t think the guards will look for us there.” He flaps one of his wings as he explains, as if to better articulate himself.

“Alright then. Athos, take to the skies and lead us there.” My little crow companion responds immediately; with a skip, a hop, and a few flaps of his wings, he takes off, climbing into the sky with ease.

“Porthos, follow Athos and guide me.” The cat flicks his tail back and forth, annoyed, then looks away. I sigh and shake my head. “You can take a long nap once we get to safety.” I continue.

“Promise?” His tail stops, standing at attention.

“Yes, I promise.” With that, we set out, fleeing civilization, and wandering off into the wilderness to avoid capture. After some time, we enter the forest, and then after walking some more, we reach our destination; a rustic log cabin tucked into the forest.

I can’t help but admire the design – a flat face in front, home to two windows on either side of the front door along with a roof reaching up from the ground on either side to meet at the top. Very symmetrical aside from the haphazard patches of moss dotting its walls and the leafy vines stretching down from the roof. Maybe a witch lives here? An old hermit? Or perhaps it’s been deserted? Ooh, how wonderful that would be – a little witch cottage in the woods with nobody around to bother me. That would be a welcome change of pace. First thing’s first though.

“Porthos, it’s almost nap time. Would you do me a favor and scout that cabin? There is a window next to the front door, maybe you can see inside it?”

“… You’re going to make me climb now?” Porthos looks back over his shoulder and swishes his tail back and forth. “Why can’t you do it? You’re taller than I am, after all.” Well, he does have a point there.

“If someone’s home and they see me peering into their window, they might get spooked and tell us to keep walking. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” I smile as I wag my finger at him. Appealing to his interest seems to be the best way to persuade him.

“… Fine, I’ll check it out.” With that, Porthos approaches the building. Instead of going straight to the window, he disappears behind the cabin. A few moments later, he reappears out front again, but from the other side. Then he stops once to sniff the door a few times. Why does it seem like he’s done this before? Next, he leaps up onto the windowsill and peers inside.

“What do you see in there?” I ask.

“… I think there’s a dead guy inside. Well, maybe not dead. He could be asleep. Hard to tell. He’s not moving at all though.” Porthos responds. I nod my head and quietly approach the front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Is anybody home?” I call out. No response.

“He hasn’t moved. I think he’s dead.” Porthos comments. A sudden rush of air followed by a few stray feathers announces the return of Athos. He perches himself on a nearby tree limb, surveying the cabin.

“What was it that Trent used to say? Something like, ‘dead men don’t own anything,’ right?” I think to myself. Well, he was right. I wonder what Trent’s up to? Now, now, Seles, don’t get distracted. We don’t think about him anymore, remember?

Knock, knock, KNOCK.

Still no response. Well, breaking in could be forgiven if I save his life, right? On the other hand, I could get blamed for another crime I didn’t commit. Oh well. Time to roll the dice. I try the door handle. Why is it unlocked? That seems strange, although I don’t think he got many visitors out here. With a light push, the door swings open and I step inside the dwelling, Porthos following at my heel.

“I shall watch the door and warn you if anyone approaches, my Queen.” Athos says. Good thinking. I turn my attention to the cabin’s interior. It’s dark – not too many windows in here. Wait, didn’t I help myself to that guard’s lighter? My hand fishes around inside my satchel and my fingers close around cold metal – there it is. The cap flicks open and I thumb the wheel, igniting the wick. A soft orange flame sparks to life.

Now I can see things a bit better. Nearby, two candles and some scattered pieces of paper on a small table and a couple on the floor beside it. I step forward and light the candles, then pocket my lighter and continue to explore. I spot a shelf with some cookware next to a wood stove. On the other side of the room, there are bookshelves. His collection is pretty impressive — I haven’t seen this many books since Trent and I lived together. I wonder what he’s doing now? Damnit. Seles, we’ve been through this – you don’t think about him anymore. That’s twice today…

Back to the situation at hand. So far, this seems pretty typical some loner living out in the woods. Porthos stands nearby, tail standing at attention. I quietly walk over and take a closer look at the cabin’s lone inhabitant – an old man lying in bed. At least, I think he’s old – wrinkles line his pale face and his hair is mostly gray with a few streaks of black still holding out. Lucky guy though – seems like he’s managed to keep most of his hair. I’d guess he’s in his fifties? Yeah, that seems about right.

I don’t see any sort of aura around him. Maybe he died of natural causes? Well, better double check just to make sure, and so I place my hand in front of his face. It’s hard to tell, but I can feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my palm. He’s alive and breathing. Why didn’t he wake up when I knocked? This hermit must sleep like a rock if that didn’t startle him. Something’s not right here. I turn away from the bed and come face to face with a man standing directly beside me.

My heart leaps into my throat. Frantic, I grab the hilt of my katana and rip it from its scabbard, swinging it through the man’s midsection and cleaving him in two. Porthos jumps back and hisses at me. Athos squawks from outside and bursts through the open door, flying circles around the room.

“My Queen! Are you alright!?” He chirps away.

Wait a minute. Huh? The man’s still standing there. No bloody wound. He didn’t even flinch. My sword felt like it passed through thin air. Hold on a second. Am I seeing things again? I blink twice. It’s not a man after all – it’s just the aura of a man. A disembodied aura. Well, this is a first.

“So sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to spook you!” My heart continues to pound as the faint blue outline of a man quietly addresses me. Is it a ghost? Wait a second. I squint at the ghost for a second, then I look back over my shoulder at the old man, asleep in his bed.

“Perhaps I could ask a favor of you?” The shade points at the sleeping man. The puzzle pieces itself together. It’s the old man. Well, his aura, anyways, or maybe his essence would be a better way of putting it. I manage to nod my head a couple times.

“Can you try to wake me up? I seem to have gotten… stuck.” He addresses me politely.

“Uh… huh…” I manage to respond, then I turn towards the bed and poke the old man in the shoulder with the wooden scabbard of my sword. The sleeping hermit doesn’t wake up. I poke him again, harder this time. Nothing. The ghost standing beside me sighs, defeated.

“I was afraid something like this would happen one day. Seems like I am locked out of my own body.” He says, turning away from me with a sigh. He begins muttering to himself. Locked out of his body? That sounds familiar.

“What are you exactly?” I ask the shade. He turns around again.

“Good question. I guess you could call me a traveler, young lady. I have a special power – I can leave my body behind and freely travel the world. You are the second person I have met who can actually see me like this. It is a fantastic gift, but it seems to have… eh… backfired on me.” The shade offers his explanation.

“My Queen… who is it you are speaking to?” Athos’ voice in my head again.

“You can’t see him?” I think back.

“See who?” Athos responds. I look down at Porthos.

“There’s nobody here except the sleeping guy, lady. You crazy?” Porthos’ voice now. I shake my head. Okay. There is a transparent, blue man here that only I can see. Oh well. Stranger things have happened.

“There’s a spirit here.” I explain, then turn back towards the shade. Both of my familiars cock their heads to the side and stare at me in disbelief. Really? Why is that so hard for two magical familiars to believe? Sheesh.

“What do you mean you are locked out? It’s your body, isn’t it?” I ask him.

“It would appear that I’ve been possessed.” The shade says flatly, staring at the bed with a solemn expression. “While I was out, something moved in.” Now the puzzle pieces really start to fit together. This sounds like another case of Morosia. The memory of the white eyed assailant holding the severed heads of the mother and her children flashes through my mind and I shake my head to get it out of there. The shade offers me a quizzical expression.

“Today’s your lucky day then. I just happen to be an exorcist.” The shade’s eyebrows raise up – now it’s his turn to be surprised. I smirk at him.

“Young lady, if you can rid me of that parasite, I will be forever in your debt. Please, help me! I must see my beloved Larissa again…” The man’s voice trembles with urgency. He tries to grab my shoulders and plead with me, but his hands pass right on through. I wave him away, still smirking.

“Relax, old man. I’ll take care of it… but in return, you’ve got to promise to feed me and let me sleep here as long as I want.” The ghost shakes his head up and down with vigor. Porthos meows loudly.

“My pets too.” I add.

“Deal!” He says. I offer my hand for him to shake. He goes to take it, but once again, his hand passes right through me. Close enough. Time to get started. I take a seat next to the bed. After fishing around my satchel for a moment, I find it – the golden mirror. I place it on my lap and look down at it.

“Athos, Porthos – prepare yourselves. We’re going back to the dream world.”

---

The sensation of sinking is always unsettling. Gone are the little round windows of the quaint cottage. The two children and their sick mother have vanished from my sight, but not from my thoughts. I know what I need to do here, in the dream world.

That is what this place is: a world of dreams inside of the mother’s imagination. Almost everyone has dreams. Every dreamer stands on the doorstep of the infinite. That said, not all dreams are equal. Some are more in touch with their dreams than others. Some have big dreams while others have little dreams. All these things are reflected in the world that manifests itself inside the mind. Most have no control over their dreams and wander aimlessly.

I am an exception. Dreams are my domain. Nothing here is outside of my influence.

I am not the only exception though. There is another being here with power. The ignorant refer to something like this as a nightmare, but Morosia is more than that: it is a curse. Those afflicted are doomed to be consumed by a cunning parasite that preys upon their inner turmoil. When left unchecked, the victim will suffer and sleep until thirst or starvation claim their due. Any attempts to intervene through material means are hopeless. The only way to cure Morosia is to remove the parasite. That is what I am here for. My prize.

The sinking sensation stops, and I open my eyes to a cold world devoid of any sort of color. Surrounded by dismal houses and buildings, obscured by thick mist – could this be Hithe? It is hard for me to tell; after all, while in the waking world, my eyes can only see magic. The earth rumbles beneath me, signaling that the game is about to begin.

“Athos!” I call out and snap my fingers. A handful of falling feathers announce the arrival of my familiar: The Three-Eyed Raven, Athos. The vibrant violet sheen of his rich plumage provides a stark contrast against the dream world’s ubiquitous grayscale. I can feel three sets of talons dig into my skin, but I do not wince or cry out because I am familiar with pain and its purpose.

“At your service, my Queen.” Athos responds with his trademark orotund, gentlemanly tone as he settles onto my shoulder. Colors mix with the scarlet ink drawn from his talons before sweeping down to dye my clothes back to their original sky blue and cloud gray hues. The cobblestone street beneath my feet remains ashen and flat. Again, the earth grumbles impatiently and I infer that the mother has little time left alive.

“Keep your eyes peeled. I can feel it nearby.” I punctuate my statement by drawing my katana. The weapon introduces itself to the world with its telltale chime. The steel blade glistens and begins to pulsate iridescence as I tuck the scabbard into my sash. Holding my sword with both hands, I begin to walk down the street one careful step at a time, ready for the resident of this realm to reveal itself and attack. All is silent save for the soft plodding of my sandals against the road as building after non-descript building pass us by.

A cat meows. I stop walking and sweep the empty streets with an attentive gaze. I see nothing. Athos ruffles his feathers and remains silent. We stand and wait. Another meow, faint and yet still distinct, beckons us towards a tall building in front of us. The building is in the center of a square and looms head and shoulders above the others. Judging by its size, I guess it to be the town hall, or perhaps a court of law, if they were not one in the same. The cat call sounds again, more urgent this time. I glance at Athos out of the corner of my eye.

“What do you think?” I ask him. He ruffles his feathers and makes a clicking sound with his beak.

“I believe it is inside, my Queen.” He responds, then adds. “Be careful.” I nod in response and we slowly approach the massive wooden double doors of the town hall. I swipe my sword to the side and the doors swing inward as a sudden squall nearly rips them off their hinges. There is no hesitation on my part as I stride past the threshold with quiet confidence. We are greeted by a large, empty room filled with vacant benches facing a central altar. Perched atop the podium is a black cat leisurely flicking its tail, with its back turned towards us.  

“It is as you think, my Queen.” Athos identifies the unassuming feline as the source of the corruption. I point my sword at the parasite.

“There are two ways we can go about this, but they both end up with you as my pet.” As I speak, my voice begins to swell in volume until it reverberates throughout the entire hall. The feline seems unperturbed and does not respond. I march forward, staring the parasite down behind the length of my weapon. The earth begins to shake again and this time it does not stop.

“Submit to my power!” My shout rips through the hall and the windowpanes crack. The cat cocks its head back to stare at me with eyes that smolder like burning coal. Its lips peel back nonsensically wide and reveal not one, but four rows of stained black teeth.

“What power?” The cat’s fiendish smile remains fixed in place as a rasping, guttural voice booms throughout the hall. It hisses at us now, and as it does, it undergoes a monstrous growth spurt. The grinding of bone against bone fills my ears as the cat’s limbs elongate and contort one after another, then its chest swells like a balloon. The wooden altar soon collapses under the weight of the now enormous feline fiend. The demon turns to face me and its eyes ignite into a pair of bright orange flames. Stripes of fire send smoke signals up from its black pelt and its teeth click together as it chomps the empty air with its maw. My eyes narrow as I tilt my head back to meet the fiend’s gaze with a glare of my own, unperturbed.

“Goblin Cat.” I murmur to myself in a matter-of-fact tone. I recalled the name from a story Trent had read to me once about a wandering medicine vendor. Athos clicks his beak twice to signal his agreement: it is a Goblin Cat.

“My master told me you would come… too bad you and that squawking retch are barely a meal!” The parasite growls and the faintly perceptible tremors of the earth grow into a steady quaking. The roof of the town hall vanishes, revealing an inky, starless sky overhead. Next, the walls melt away, replaced by sheets of flame. I now find myself standing inside a towering ring of fire: a fitting arena. The tip of my katana points towards the floor as I assume a low guard.

“You’re about to have a new master, furball.” I challenge back with a smirk. That sets it off; it begins to hiss, enraged, and I can see a light glowing from inside of its open maw. I recognize it as fire just before a massive tongue of flame erupts from behind its rows of razor-sharp fangs. My sword carves a semi-circle in the air before me and a shimmering sheet of ice springs up from the ground below, shielding us from the burst of fire without issue. The tip of my blade dances high over my head before it falls in a graceful stroke, shattering the wall of ice into little knives and propelling them towards the Goblin Cat.

“Pathetic!” The Goblin Cat leers back and swipes one massive paw through the air, leaving a lingering trail of fire in its wake. The ice fragments melt before they reach their target. Now the fiend plants both of its front paws against the ground and the circle of fire surrounding us flares up. A bead of sweat drips down my brow as the temperature climbs and I recognize that the walls of the arena are constricting. This is turning out to be a fun game.

“My Queen, the ground!” Athos cries out in warning. Lava. The ground beneath the Goblin Cat’s paws melts into molten lava and begins to creeps towards my feet. Time is running out.  I raise my sword overhead now, assuming a high guard, ready to bring it down with all of my strength. The Goblin Cat does not try to close the gap but instead maintains the distance between us, eyeing the iridescent blade wearily. Interesting. It must know the secret of my sword. Fortunately, I have many more.

“Ascend, Athos!” My command is issued. With a burst of purple feathers, Athos and his wings expand outwards, suddenly reaching several arm’s lengths away on each side. Warmth envelopes me as his talons fuse into my shoulder. I crouch down, and as the molten cobblestone is about to entrap us, we take off into the air with several powerful gusts from Athos’ wings. We’re not out of the clear yet – as we soar higher and higher with each flap, the wall of flames surrounding us seems to grow taller. I continue to ascend straight up into the sky, piercing the ink’s dim veil. Higher and higher still, until finally…

“The Moon.” There it is. A full moon, glowing boldly above the parasite’s miasma. I outstretch my hand and it begins to grow larger, not because we are continuing to fly higher, but because I am pulling the moon towards us. The Goblin Cat’s howls grow faint, blotted out by a new sound: the rush of flowing water. I look down from our lofty perch in the sky, glaring at the dot of fire burning in the darkness below. Dreams are my domain, you worm.

“Drown.” My lips part to utter a single word that shakes the entire world. The moonlight illuminates an amorphous mass surging far beneath us: a tidal wave sweeping the land below, large enough to be seen from thousands of feet above. The waters dwarf the pitiful ring of fire and the Goblin Cat’s frightened yowls are dashed asunder as the tsunami breaks and crashes. The water spreads and soon there is no earth beneath us; only calm waters reflecting the light of the moon back into the sky. I remove my scabbard from my belt and hold it with one hand as I hold my katana in the other.

“Release.” I issue my order to Athos. My wings disappear and I so I plummet. I let gravity pull me down, headfirst towards the water’s surface. The wind whips about me and as I fall, I shed my clothes like a snake shedding old skin. I press my legs together as they fuse into a tail complete with two iridescent fins and matching scales. My lungs grow gills. Not a moment after my transformation is complete, I pierce the water’s surface with the tip of my katana and slide into the icy depths, now a mermaid with sword and scabbard in hand.

“Find it.” I issue my command to Athos by speaking directly to his mind. Moments later, a pillar of illumination penetrates the deeps. Propelled by my powerful new tail and fins, I dart through the water towards the light like a shark approaching prey. Then I see it come into view – the Goblin Cat, floundering helplessly in the depths of this all-encompassing ocean. Gone are its stripes of fire and its eyes, once burning with malice, are now wide and fearful.

“It’ll be over soon.” I taunt the terrified parasite. Its head snaps towards me as it frantically claws at the water, trying desperately to mount a defense. A futile gesture; as I hurdle past the parasite, I cleave its outstretched paw clean from its forearm. Crimson blossoms from the wound, dissipating into the water, and a mass of bubbles erupt from the Goblin Cat’s maw as it cries out in pain. No longer able to hold its breath, it begins to inhale the icy water and drown. The blade of my katana, once iridescent, now begins to turn blood red. I turn, facing the Goblin Cat once more and pointing the opening of my empty scabbard towards it, concentrating. The blade of my katana is now a bright, burning crimson color. It enjoys the taste of magic.

“You’re mine now.” With those words, the Goblin Cat begins to shrink as it is pulled towards me by the undeniable force that is my will. It continues to paw the water helplessly until its silhouette deteriorates into a dark, shapeless cloud of malevolent intent. The spirit is drawn into the sheath of my sword much like a helpless ship caught in an epic whirlpool. Once the Goblin Cat is inside, I slam my sword back into its sheath.

A blinding light causes me to squint and glare: the setting sun. I’m back in the cottage now, staring down at the golden mirror resting on my lap. I blink twice before I look up to meet the gaze of the little boy and the little girl who had implored me for help. I take a deep breath and taste the crisp, autumn air. A pang of regret as I realize I no longer have gills, scales, or a tail. This is quickly washed away by the sight of the mother, now sitting upright in bed, gasping for air. The two children immediately rush the bedside and throw themselves on top of her, smothering her with affection. I allow myself a small smile as I look upon the reunited family with a melancholic gaze.

“So that is what a happy family looks like…” I murmur to myself.

“Yes, my Queen. Your magnificence is unlimited.” I can hear the voice of Athos addressing me using our mental link now and I chuckle inwardly. While a bit corny at times, Athos is certainly a marvelous retainer fit for a queen. I look down at the mirror in my lap and nod. For a brief moment, I see the shape of a bird as the light catches upon its surface. Then, I see the shape of a small cat beside it. That’s right. I have a new pet. A new pet needs a name, too. After all, Goblin Cat is not very catchy.

“You as well, Athos. Please introduce yourself to our new companion, Aramis.” I think, then stifle a yawn. I look up at the reunited family with tired eyes.

“Do you mind if I take a nap?” I ask, my eyes growing heavier by the second. Without realizing it, I find myself drifting off into a deep slumber of my own. Perhaps I will have a better dream this time.

A BLACK CAT AND A BAD DREAM
Written by Jungle.
© 2021, all rights reserved.

---

I can see the sun peeking over the eastern horizon. I can smell soil and grass just a few inches below my nose. Marty lies at my side covered in olive drab from head to toe. We raise our heads high enough only to see what’s ahead: barren, empty flatlands surrounding a mossy green cityscape. The Ivy City.

“Farmlands?” I ask.

“Likely. No crops though.” Marty replies and shifts his weight to one side.

“Abandoned?” I return.

“I don’t think so. Look.” Marty nods. I look in the same direction and spot something out in the distance. Barely visible. The benefits of experience are one reason I picked Marty as my bodyguard for this mission.

“Is it a person?” I study the shape. It could be.

“They haven’t moved.” Marty’s response is quick.

“A scarecrow?” Marty responds to my question by reaching into his kit bag and retrieving a set of binoculars. He raises them up to his eyes and scans for the scarecrow, centers, then makes some minor adjustments. I see him freeze up.

“Take a close look, Cliff.” Marty pauses before responding and then he hands me his binoculars. I prop myself up on my elbows a bit higher and raise the binos up to my face. I start scanning. I stop on the silhouette. I zoom in further and then my jaw goes slack. It’s no scarecrow. No, it’s a cruel warning: a human corpse, well past rotting and decayed, impaled from one end to the other on a large wooden stake jutting up from the earth. Not just one, either.  

“They aren’t scarecrows. They’re markers. Territory markers.” Marty’s voice is low and ominous at first, but then it gets quieted by my own thinking. What about Robb? Robb is why we came out here in the first place. I zoom out and start scanning from left to right with the binoculars. The binoculars come to focus on another cadaver. I scan the corpse for any clues, any hints that might indicate that this one had once been my brother, Robb.

“That’s their way of saying… this is… ” Marty’s talking to me again, but I can barely hear him over the sound of my own thoughts. I’m still scanning the fields, checking each corpse. Is this one Robb? No. What about this one? Wait a second.

Marty stops talking. I can feel his hand on my shoulder for a second, then I feel nothing. Big, heavy breaths now. The sound of my heartbeat fills my ears. Tears well up in my eyes but I can still see through the binoculars. Is that him? He’s not facing me. Those are his clothes. Is that him? I can’t tell. I have to get closer. As I start to stand, I let my hand fall to my side, then I drop the binoculars in the grass. Marty hisses at me like a snake. It doesn’t matter. I have to see. Is that him? Is that my brother?

I stumble out into the field and start to run. My legs start to pump. The figure looms larger. Then it hits me, like someone light a fire inside my chest. Something ripped through me. White hot pain. I can’t feel my legs now. What was it? I look down at my chest: blood, bright red, spurting out from a fresh wound. A flash of recognition: I’ve been shot. I’ve been shot!  Am I starting to fall? Yes, I’m falling backwards now. I hit the ground hard but there is no more air for the earth to slap out of my lungs. My chest is warm. That’s all I can feel now. Laying on my back, I watch a hungry blue sky devour the world until there is nothing left. I have to get up, I have to know. I have to…  

---

We should have approached when it was dark. That’s what I kept telling myself. We should have approached when it was dark. I should have left Cliff at home. I should have known what we’d find and that he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Mistakes were made. I’m still alive though. I want that rifle, too, and I’d be happy to cut that asshole’s throat in his sleep if that’s all it takes to get at it. He deserves it, anyways.

Patience is a virtue though. I look over to my side and make sure that my back-up, Kris, is managing to keep up with me in the dark. He’s one of the older survivors, like me, but he’s a little sloppy and kind of careless. He’s hard, though. Not like Cliff. Cliff and Robb were still green and the world has got no patience for that. Kris, on the other hand, was someone you could bring with you if you needed to cut somebody’s throat. I wince as he absent-mindedly kicks a large rock and it makes a loud thud.

“Low and slow.” I growl at him under my breath.

“This place is fucking creepy.” He hisses back at me in an angry whisper.

“You’re better off being scared than you are being dead.” I remind him with a sneer; those were Quade’s words coming out of my mouth. Kris snorts and we continued to work our way across the field, hunkered down low to the ground. The night sky is full of clouds and so there is hardly any moonlight to cast shadows around us. I think I can make out the shape of some of the scarecrows.

“I don’t remember that many…” I mumble to myself. There were more of them. More scarecrows. I try to focus so that I can concentrate on the task at hand. My mind wanders anyways. Is Cliff out here, watching me with pecked out eyes? Did he find his brother in death? I shake my head and snap myself out of the spiral. This is bad. Whoever this is – he likes to play games and he’s not alone.  

“What’s wrong?” Kris must have noticed me tense up. He pauses for a second and I end up in the lead.

“There’s more bodies out here. It’s only been a few weeks.” I whisper back. Kris responds the way I want him to, by shutting his mouth and starting to get serious.

We continue to creep through the abandoned farmlands and before long, we are less than a stone’s throw from one of the totems. That’s when I start to notice it. The smell. The stench of death fills my nostrils, all lukewarm and noxious. I grimace and can’t help but be reminded of that time our generator malfunctioned and all the meat in our cooler spoiled. I shove that memory aside and we continue to creep towards the scarecrow. Something doesn’t add up. We’re not down wind. It’s only one cadaver. Why does it smell so bad?

“Damn! Do you smell that?” Kris raises his voice in disgust and it startles me, a bit, I turn to look back at him over my shoulder as I continue to creep forwards, across the field. I notice he’s fallen a few more steps behind me now. Maybe I was wrong and Kris is a coward.

“Smells like shi-IT!“ My voice spikes into a yelp as I place my foot down on something that is not solid earth. I feel myself falling forward and I hear the scraping of dirt and soil around me. Then it dawns on me: a trap. That’s when an army of wooden spikes and concrete rebar rush up to meet my flesh. At first: pain. Blisteringly hot pain. Pain-like-never-before pain. Overwhelming pain. I never hit the ground. I can’t breathe. I try not to move anything but my eyeballs and I look down to see that I’m impaled. I’m choking now, choking on the smell of shit. Unmistakable. I try to breathe in – sharp pain. My lungs won’t fill with air. I use my remaining breath to try and scream but it just dies in my chest. I try to flail but I can’t feel my arms or legs. My eyes continue to dart around: everything is dark now. Dark and quiet. I can feel my own blood starting to soak through my clothes. I can’t breathe. I try to twist and flail, but I just sink deeper onto the spikes. I’m getting numb. I can’t die here. Not here. Anywhere else but here, in this fucking ditch full of shit, please, I’m begging you, anywhere else but-

---

“Fuckin’ Marty, man!” I cry out a bit as I stub my toe on a big rock in the forest. Fuck! Why did I ever agree to go with Marty that night? I wish I had told him to go fuck himself instead!

“Watch it, Kris.”  Logan grunts back at me. He’s still bent out of shape over Marty, I think. Bastard. Don’t blame me for Marty. I wasn’t going into that fucking pit to save him. He was dead. Period. Even if I got him out of that pit – it was filled with shit. Literally – it was filled with shit. There’s no way he would have fucking survived the infection so I put him out of his misery. I had to!

“Fuck off, man, bastard could have got me killed with his dumb ass idea.” I growl back at him.

“Yeah, well, Marty’s dead now.” Now Logan’s the one growling. I feel a little bit of the fear prickle up on the back of my neck.

“There was nothing I could have done for him. I told you. Drop it already.” I whisper back, trying to defuse Logan. I didn’t want to fight Logan tonight. Not here, in this creepy forest. Not now, in the dead of night. Logan doesn’t respond and so we continue to make our way through the forest without any further discussion. I glance off to the right and through the patchwork of trees I can see barely make out the field a ways off.

Quade was a clever guy. I mean, he must be, or else why would we all gather around and start following him? When I told the boss what happened, he showed me this spot here on an old map – big patch of green. I forgot what he called it – one of those long words he likes to use, anyway, Quade told us to try and approach through this forest at night instead of crossing the fields and so here we are, tripping our way through the forest in the dark. A branch cracks off a ways.  

“You hear that?” It’s Logan again. He stopped moving, so I stop too. Then Vito stops.

“Probably nothing.” I whisper back.

“It didn’t sound like nothing.” Logan growls.

“Shh, listen guys.” Now it’s Vito’s turn to enter the conversation after remaining silent the entire trip. Vito puts his hand to his ear for a second.

“Damn, for a second I thought you forgot how to speak, Vito.” I quip. He shushes me and I can imagine him scowling at me in the dark.

“I’m not talking because I’m trying to listen, Kris.” First Logan, now Vito. Both of them are pissed off and growling at me in the dark now. Great. As I go to take another step forward, I miss the earth I expected to feel under my foot and freeze in sheer panic as my mind flashes to Marty’s final moments. Squish. My foot finds a mostly solid earth a moment after I expect it to, but it’s squishy. And it stinks.

“Shit again?” I ask with a sigh and pick my foot up. My glowstick casts a weak, faint red light over what looks to be a pretty fresh pile of shit. Damnit.

“Yeah, that’s a pile of shit. That means there are animals here, Kris. Now shut up.” Logan asserts his dominance as the point man now. Lead the way, prick. He starts walking forward again and so we follow a few paces behind. I wonder what kind of animals live in these woods? Judging by the size of that pile, it wasn’t a small animal. No, not a small animal. I gulp. Another branch cracks in the distance. This one sounded closer. I don’t realize it right away, but Vito froze when that branch cracked. Logan and I continue without him for a few paces. Logan notices first.

“What’s the problem, Vito?” Logan looks back and asks in a whisper.

“We’re being stalked.” Vito’s response sends shivers down my spine.

Now all three of us have stopped. Logan and I start to look around. I can hear my heart beating faster now. Vito was right; I spot a pair of yellow, feral eyes glinting in the darkness for a moment. The rustling of dead leaves and branches accompany little footfalls that seem to echo through the forest. We’re already surrounded.

“Just some fucking mutts…” I grunt. I hear Logan thumb the safety off of his rifle so I shoulder my shotgun now, scanning the darkness for another pair of eyes. The flashlight on Logan’s rifle starts cutting through the darkness around us. Before I can find a pair yellow eyes to blast with my shotgun, something sings through the air and harpoons my calf. I can feel my calf muscle start to curl in on itself and my knee buckles as I drop to the ground.

“AHHH MY FUCKING LEG! MY FUCKING LEG!” After a second or so, the realization hits me like a stone wall. I can’t help it. I scream. I scream to let out the pressure, to bleed away the pain, to get the adrenaline pumping. I struggle to stand but I can’t find any strength in my leg at all. Looking down, I can see why: a huge arrow has pierced my calf and pinned it to the ground. I lower my gun for a second so I can try to pull on the arrow and free myself.

That’s when a massive missile of fur, bone, muscle, and sinew tackles me to the ground. I can feel my neck in its jaws. Time seems to slow down as the jaws clamp down on my neck like a vice and the teeth rip through the tender meat there. The adrenaline is not enough to dull the sawing pain of its fangs ripping through my skin. I scream as loud as I can. As the dire wolf shakes the life out of me, my eyes barely register the other sets of teeth digging into me, the shadowy figures clumping up around me, or the terrible smacking sounds of Logan being eaten alive right beside me.

Then I hear my neck snap. What a fucking sound.. !

---

For the second time I find myself in this fucking forest. Yes, this forest right next to a fucking haunted sniper city. Yes, this forest where I saw Kris and Logan get eaten alive by a pack of fucking wolves. The forest of fucking death. You know, you hear about that sort of thing happening these days: someone wanders away from camp, they never turn up, maybe in a few days you find some of their clothes strewn about and you just figure eh, that’s nature. Seeing it with your own eyes is a different story though. I saw Kris and Logan get torn apart by huge timber wolves. I know I did.

I didn’t want to come back here. Quade insisted on it though. I knew what that meant. So, sure enough, here I am, sitting in the back seat of this pick-up truck as it rolls through the forest. Except it’s not really a pick-up truck anymore. It’s more of a tank or uh, what did Quade call it? Some fucking big word he probably made up. Anyway – we welded a bunch of thick iron plates to the truck to make it bulletproof. Yeah, it makes it harder to see out the front and drive around, but it’s better than getting shot dead. Should keep the critters away too.

More thoughts run through my head as we work our way through the forest, towards the Ivy City. Why am I still alive? That one stumps me. Other questions too – like why didn’t Kris just fucking shoot the bastards? I knew I shouldn’t have let him carry the shotgun. Fucking idiot froze and got himself and Logan killed. What a chickenshit. Oh well. At least I lived through some miracle. Pretty soon my pondering is interrupted as we approach the edge of the forest.

“Stay frosty. They got rifles. Real rifles. Traps, too. Try to stay on the concrete whenever you can.” I issue a warning to my crew. Quade sent me out with three real ones this time, all handpicked. Not only that, but he sent me out with one of his trucks, too. I could tell he really wanted some intel. He must have fancied that sniper rifle. I bet he wanted the guns that Logan, Kris, and Marty lost, too. Quade was always big on any ‘old world’ toys. There were probably more in this city. Might be a ticket to get into his good graces…

Soon we break the tree line and our truck lurches out into the open as it fails to find traction for a second. Four- wheel drive saves the day and we kick forward, churning through the dead grass and onto the cracked concrete. Massive, multi-story buildings loom up in front of us, all of them draped with different shades of green: dark green moss, pale green ivy, bright green vines. All of the buildings around us were made out of bricks and concrete, and everywhere there were bricks and concrete, there were green things growing over them.

“This place is crazy…” Mark is the next person to break the silence. I look over at him; he’s sitting in back with me, peering out the little peepholes in our makeshift armor, taking it all in. I look around the inside of the cab. Everyone else was on the same page as Mark.

“Guys! Look! Guys that’s a fucking tiger!” Suddenly the jeep swerves as Jomm swings the wheel to keep the feline in view. I don’t get to see it – the armor obstructs the view. A tiger? What the fuck is a tiger, anyways?

“What the fuck, Jomm, are you drunk or something?” I chide our driver, Jomm, for a second.

“I wish!” He shrugs and replies with a smile. I shake my head. The truck rounds a corner and we roll forward down one of the main roads that traversed the length of the city. That’s when we see it.

“Whoa!” Mark yelps and points straight ahead. I had to shake my head for a second. Didn’t we just leave the forest? Sure enough, it looked like a whole section of the city, seemingly centered around a massive, six story stone building, was now some kind of hybrid, a fusion of nature and old world architecture. Everywhere huge trees jut up from the breaks in the road, even through the buildings and out of the windows. The center building was even more unbelievable: the trees continued to grow up from the roof. It was a forest, surely, but instead of growing out like most forests did, it grew upwards, somehow aided by this massive stone structure.

“What the hell is that?” I think out loud.

“It’s like a forest growing out of a castle.” I lean forward so I can hear Phil, who is riding shotgun; his voice is hardly louder than a whisper. He’s awestruck by what he sees. We all are. We’ve never seen anything like this forgotten city. That said, we’re the only people besides Quade to ever set foot inside the limits and tell anyone about it.

 “I thought it was a flying forest at first.” Jomm confesses. I make a mental note never to let Jomm drive me anywhere ever again.

“It’s not natural. Not natural at all.” Phil continues in his awestruck whisper. He has a point, too. It’s not natural… but was it made by humans? I notice the truck start to pick up speed now.

“I want to take a look. What if there is food growing inside?” Jomm says, leaning over the steering wheel and peering through the slats in the armor. Greedy fuck. Before I can get a word in, Mark speaks up.

“Maybe it’s a grow house.” He speculates. I look at Mark for a second and I end up considering his theory. Maybe it is a grow house? It wouldn’t hurt to drive closer. Quade wants intel, after all. A large sign catches my eye as we approach it: garage. Jackpot. Garages are full of old cars, most likely in disrepair. I took a mental note here; even if they were scrap, they might have parts we could use to fix other, working vehicle.

“Slow down!” I order Jomm and he obeys. We resume our leisurely crawl as we approach the garage. I lean over Mark and peer through the window, trying to look inside and get a sense of how many cars were in there.

“I said slow do-“ I start to bark another command and then the glass windshield and windows all explode around us as a massive shockwave bores into my gut before dissipating into the seat behind me. Time crawls by for a second. Two seconds. I manage to look up – a huge chunk of concrete as wide as the truck has collapsed the hood of the truck. Steam billows up from the hissing front-end of the truck. Jomm is slumped against the bloodied driver’s wheel while Phil screams and claws at his eyes and face.

A second chunk of concrete caves the front half of the roof in. Phil’s screams are silenced as both he and Jomm are completely crushed under the massive weight of the concrete. Instincts take over now. I rip the handle and hurl myself against door, bursting out of the car. As I find my feet and start to stand and run, a third concrete block crashes down where Mark and I were just sitting. No need to look back; the truck is wrecked. I start to wheel as I pick up speed, quickly accelerating to full sprint, orienting myself back towards the way we came from. As I look up, I see Mark is up ahead of me by more than a few paces. Shit! I struggle to keep up with him as we sprint down the street, away from the wreck. As I look down at the concrete to catch myself from tripping on any cracks or obstructions, I start to see them: shadows passing from one side of the road to the other. I look up and a massive shape blots out the sun behind it as it passes directly overhead.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” I turn and scream, trying to raise my rifle in time. Too slow; I feel a sudden, sharp pain in my chest, just below my sternum carried by a weighty impact that sends me flailing into the air. I gasp as the back of my head slaps the concrete and I see stars dancing in front of my eyes. I look up at the sky from my back and then I notice it: the massive wooden shaft of the spear that just fucking impaled me. I wretch and spit out some blood onto my chin and neck. Footsteps, now. I can’t breathe. I keep trying to, but my lungs won’t do anything. That’s when it appears: the monster. I continue to gasp and suffocate.

“Do you know why we keep one alive?” It speaks. It’s speaking to me. I try to focus my eyes even as I feel myself fading away. The beast stands impossibly tall over me. Is it human? It looks more like a wolf than a human. My eyes start to close before I can get a good look, but what the hell do I have to lose? I force them back open and try to look it into the eye instead. Two eyes stare back at me. One is bright yellow. One is dark blue. I’m staring at a human face. My jaw goes slack. It’s not a monster. It’s a woman.

“To tell our story.” These are the last words I hear before her heel comes crashing down on my skull.

---

“And how did you survive, Mark?”

I look up from my lap and across the table. Quade is sitting across from me and as soon as I make eye contact with him, I regret it. His eyes are dark charcoal, almost obsidian, and his pale white skin makes them even more apparent. I look down at my lap again.

“I ran. I ran as fast as I fucking could. That thing wasn’t a human or an animal.” I responded, choosing my words carefully. Silence fills the room for a moment, but it’s broken when some of the officers sitting behind me begin to chuckle and jest in amusement.

“Then what was it?” Quade says as he gestures for silence from the officers. The sound of wood scraping on wood creeks through the room as he pushes his chair back and stands up. I swallow hard.

“A monster.” I manage to croak. Silence, again. I allow myself a little bit of optimism: it seems like Quade is taking my story seriously. Who gives a damn what the others think, it’s Quade that runs the show; as long as Quade believes me, I’ll be alright. I’ll be alright.

“I see… a monster.” Quade picks up something off of a nearby shelf and begins to examine it. It looks like a small box, maybe a shoebox? I can’t really tell. I can’t see what’s inside it, either. As he stands there and peers into the little box, wearing his olive-green fatigues, the room stays silent.

“All of you are dismissed except for Mark. Mark, you have a seat.” Now I can feel the blood as it freezes solid in my veins. Oh no. I look down at the table in front of me as the officers file out, murmuring, and Quade continues to stand with his back towards me.

“Do you know what I think, Mark?” Quade speaks once the door shuts behind the last exiting officer. His voice grows softer; disarming, even. He begins to leisurely pace around the room. My eyes follow him nervously.

“What do you think, General Quade?” I respond. He suddenly turns towards me and makes eye contact with me again. His left eye bulges a bit as a grin sweeps across his face.

“Our enemies are not monsters. They are humans, like us, and our enemies are more than just a bunch of primitive savages. They have numbers. They are organized. They clearly have a leader. That leader just sent us a message.” My eyes continue to follow the general as he explains his theory. Soon the General circles the room and I can no longer see him without standing up from my seat, but I’m too scared to do that. The hairs on my neck stand up now. He seems to believe me. Doesn’t he? If he believes me, I should survive this, but why do I feel this sense of dread then?

My gut tells me that one wrong move is fatal here.

“Mark, have you told anybody else about this?” I hear Quade’s voice from behind me now, nearly in my ear. I can hear it dripping with malice.

“N-No, General Quade.” I croak again, then swallow hard and compose myself before continuing, “And I promise I will keep it-“ Now I feel Quade’s hand pressing down hard on my shoulder. I look up and find myself staring into the muzzle of a gun.

“Keep it secret? Of course you will.” I hear Quade’s voice one last time before he pulls the trigger, releasing a loud, sharp hiss.

THE WOLFMOTHER, A FLOATING FOREST, AND MANY WAYS TO MURDER
Written by Jungle.
© 2021, all rights reserved.

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“Hey dude?” I look up at the big guy, Arden, as I finish unbuckling the belt. This belt belonged to Jeb. Jeb’s dead now and I’m already tired of seeing Arden’s naked ass. I start sliding the pants off of the dead guy, but I still have to fight the urge to puke because I think Arden hit Jeb so hard that Jeb might have shit in his briefs. Either that or Jeb never bathed. I’d buy it either way.

“Yes, Dash?” The big guy responds as Jeb’s pants float over and smack his unassuming face. He has a weird way of speaking, can’t quite pin what it is though. It takes him a moment to take the pilfered pants into his hands. He looks at me with a blank expression: that’s his go-to. 

“Put those on, man. You’ll scare the locals otherwise.” I tilt my chin up in his general direction as I continue to toss clothes at him; first his pants, then his belt, then each of his work boots and last, his cape. Cape? Cape. I didn’t want my buddy here to get mistaken for an Enforcer so I left the shirt. The big guy is just standing there with a pile of clothes at his feet now.

“Those are yours.” I wave my hand at the pile of clothes. That seems to snap him out of his trance, then big guy makes this face like, “Oh, right,” and starts to get dressed. We lucked out. Jeb’s boots fit and his pants are a little big around the waist on Arden, but they are mostly a fit, kind of on the short side, and so we end up cutting them up and making some baggy shorts. I look him over once he’s done.

“Much better. We’ll get you some better clothes once I introduce you to my friends.” I talk fast as I finish looking him over. He’s still shirtless, sure, but at least now he’s got some cotton shorts, some boots, and a traveling cloak: low-key and probably enough to stay warm at night. That’ll work.

“You do want to meet my friends, right?” I look him in the eyes for a second. When he makes eye contact with me, he doesn’t break it easily and I gulp, remembering what he just did to Jeb’s jaw a few minutes earlier. He’s hard to read with that blank stare. I’m sure he’s not a bad guy, though.

“Yes. I would like that.” His response is simple and to the point, like usual. He flashes that big, unassuming smile towards me. How naive can you be? He doesn’t know who my friends are. For all he knows, I could be setting him up. Does he care? It doesn’t seem like it. Is he that strong? I mean, he did stop those clubs with a magic spell, didn’t he? I guess he figures he can handle whatever life throws at him. Then I notice him staring at me again when I don’t respond right away.

“Aren’t you even going to ask me who my friends are?” He’s still staring at me with that blank expression.

“Is that important?” He asks back. I don’t know what to say.

“… Yes? I mean, yeah! Aren’t you worried it could be a trap?” Now I’m the one who’s staring. Who the fuck is this guy? I turn away and shake my head for a second because I am in total disbelief.

“Hm.” He pauses and seems to really think that idea over before he speaks again.

“No, I do not think it is a trap. I would like to meet your friends.” That might actually be the longest I’ve heard him speak. I get a sense of the ‘flavor’ of his voice there; on one hand, it’s really deep, but it doesn’t come across as commanding or menacing because he’s really soft spoken. It’s almost like he’s worried he might come across as threatening. Hm. My new friend is a pretty interesting dude. Definitely not from around here: if he was, he’d lead into that.  

“Well… my friends are in this group called the Returners, right?” I start to explain and then I pause, taking a quick look around to make sure that we are still alone. Arden is staring at me again and nodding his head with that blank expression of his. I look up at the sky for a second; sunsets in the west, it’s sunset, that means we need to head… this way. Now I start putting one foot in front of the other. I look over my shoulder and see Arden following a few paces behind me.

“Why do you call yourselves the Returners?” Arden now asks. His expression isn’t blank anymore, either. No, he looks curious.

“We’re called the Returners because we want to return freedom to the people.” I try to say this as cool as I can and I even pause after I finish so that last word can sink in for a few seconds. There’s a lot riding on this pitch. This guy, Arden, would be a good guy to have around. Not only that, but we’re blood brothers: we fucked up those Enforcers, a crime punishable by death. That makes us outlaws. Well, if anyone saw us. Huh. If nobody saw it, did it even happen?

Wait, why did he stop walking?

“Are the people… prisoners?” Now Arden was giving me those scary vibes again. I stop and turn to see he’s got that same serious expression he had when he was asking Jeb about my cuffs. His hair is swaying but I don’t feel a breeze. Deep breath. Tell him, Dash.

“Yeah, more or less. This little jackass named King K, he tells you what to wear, what to think, what to feel. He tells you when to sleep, when to wake up, and what to do when you’re awake.” Now I’ve stopped too, turning to face the big guy. His brow is furrowed and he’s starting to breath faster. This is risky, but I press on anyways. I’ve got this. I’m Dash, the fucking wizard!

“Those guys you smashed? They’re his goons. Enforcers. If you don’t do what he wants, he sends those after you. If they don’t get you, they get the people you know.” I continue to explain the situation to Arden, even as I can see his eyes starting to cloud over with anger. His hair continues to sway and I definitely don’t feel a breeze.

“In a way, it’s like living in a prison.” I finish my explanation and pause for effect again. Now, the slow turn and I start to walk away. Wait for it. He’ll bite. Yup. I hear his footsteps behind me pick up again.

“I would like to meet this so-called king.” Whew. Okay. The newfound menace I detect in this man’s voice makes me shiver for a second. Play it cool.

“Don’t get hasty. He’s got an army of goons and he’s got lots of guns, too.” I look over my shoulder and now I am the one grinning. This guy, Arden – I don’t know what it is about him but being around him makes me feel at ease. On top of that, the thought of him punting that little freak, King K, like a football is also a pretty funny mental image. Now I look forward, at the open landscape in front of us; an ocean of sand split by cracked concrete.

“First, I’ll introduce you to the family.” I’m sure he’ll fit right in.

THE WIZARD AND THE PRISONER
Written by ‘Jungle’ (NFN)
© 2021, all rights reserved.

“Better keep up with me, punk.”

“Piss off. It’s been a long week.” My comeback gets the angry reaction I expect: my captor jerks me around with my restraints. I lost track if it was Jeb, Jed, or Jef speaking. All three of them looked and sounded the same anyways: identical triplets, little piggies in uniform leading me on a leisurely trip through the Bloody Sands. At this rate, we’ll hit Palladia before sundown.

Unless I can bust out of these cuffs first.

“Dash? That’s your name? Hah.” I think it was Jeb speaking now, but who knows. He spits in my general direction – definitely Jeb – and I dodge to the left and remain silent for the moment, thinking. They’re still trying to butter me up. As if.  

“Is that supposed to be… a joke or somethin’?” Jeb responds. I could tell Jeb apart from his brothers because he’s the only one of the three that packs chew and he’s always gnashing away on some of it, too, always spitting that brown shit juice my way. Bet he’s the brothel’s best customer – probably one of their favorites, too.

In, out; done, paid. Fucking pig.

“Keep poking, little piggy, I make my own opportunities…“ I mutter it under my breath. Jeb must have made out the word ‘piggy’ because he stops and turns suddenly, fist already cocked to throw a punch. Before the punch comes in, we get interrupted. Somebody was approaching us. One of the brothers grabs Jeb and spins him around by the shoulder.

“You see that Jeb?” The brother says. Process of elimination says this is… Jef? Or maybe Jed. I don’t care.

“Another one?” The third of the brothers now replies. Now I can see it, too – a shape in the heat haze becomes clear and as soon as it does, we stop. We stop dead in our tracks. Whoa.

“… You seein’ what I’m seein’?” I’ll go ahead and say this was Jed speaking, although I may never know. My brain is doing backflips as it tries to process the signals my eyeballs are sending it. And what exactly are my eyeballs seeing, anyways? I think it’s a person. Yeah, it’s definitely a person, but he looks more like a walking statue, I guess. Yeah. Like a big bronze statue, almost. A big naked statue.

Wait, what? I try to rub my eyes even though my hands are cuffed together. I cock my eyebrow and gawk. Yup, no doubt about it, that’s a naked guy. At least, I’m assuming that’s a guy based on what he’s packing. I wonder if he’s worried about the sunspots? This is a desert, man. Well, maybe he doesn’t burn, after all, he’s dark too – not as dark as me, but his skin is brown like driftwood, and so my guess is he doesn’t burn easily. I don’t know what a sunburn on your dick would feel like but damn, it’s not something I want to think about for too long.

I glance over at the three bullshit brothers. It looks like they’re still digesting this. I don’t blame them. I think all four of us learned a bit from the anatomy lesson here. The newcomer seems totally oblivious in every way, though, like he doesn’t even realize he should be wearing clothes to begin with. Nope, totally natural as he strolls towards us in every sense of the word. He doesn’t change directions and he doesn’t speed up or slow down, he just keeps on going like we’re not even here.

“… The fuck?” Good ol’ Jeb breaks the silence and spits, but he’s so absent mindedly staring down the newcomer’s package that he ends up drooling a bit of that shit water down the corner of his mouth and it leaves a nice shit streak down the front of his uniform. Haha. I think Jeb just figured out he has a small dick. I laugh out loud now, like really laugh for a second.

Damn. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve laughed like that. That thought sobers me up a bit.

“Well, boys, looks like we’re bringin’ two back to King Klash today.” I’m just going to go ahead and say this one is Jed. The three brothers nod at one another and without warning, I find myself being jerked along by my chain once more as we set off on our crash course with the nudist. It isn’t long before we collide. My initial take – a living statue – really wasn’t that far from the mark. This guy is built and I mean really – this guy is built. You can see every single muscle on his body. Literally. He’s still naked, after all. His hair is black, like mine, but his is a lot more… feathery? No, not feathery… what’s it like? Flowy? Yeah, flowing… it’s more like…

At that same moment, I catch him looking over at me and I meet his golden amber stare with my one good eye. For an instant, a picture of a black lion flashes through my mind. Who is this guy?

“… You from around here?” Saw it coming; Jeb is the first one to taunt the newcomer now. The guy looks at him with these big, unassuming eyes and a really dumb grin.

“What do you mean?” He’s speaking, but his voice is loud and booming. Much louder than the Enforcer he’s addressing. Uh oh. Jeb is stunned for a second. This guy is definitely not from around here.

“Where … do … you … live?” Jeb repeats, raising his volume to match the newcomer’s and spacing out his words and emphasizing his lazy drawl. The newcomer seems kind of deaf to this little shouting match, but not to Jeb’s words. Nope, seems like he’s wrapping his whole brain around the question – I can tell by the way he’s staring off into space. My eye flashes towards Jed and Jef. They’re losing interest in me and starting to focus on the newcomer now. Good.

“Hmm…” The newcomer continues to ponder the question. At one point, he pulls his dark mane back over his ear and glances back over his shoulder, in the direction he wandered in from. Then, he turns his head back towards the three Enforcers.

“I live here…” He starts, pointing towards the ground beneath his feet and pausing to let his point sink in. Then, he touches his chest before finishing, “… and here.”

Jeb is standing with his back to me now and still, I can imagine that piggy’s little pink face growing redder by the second. This is going to get ugly. I figure worst case scenario, I’m digging a hole in the sand for this guy’s body and best-case scenario, I’ve got someone to bullshit with until we get to Palladia… unless this guy knows how to fight. Unless this guy knows how to fight? I mean, it’s three on one. That doesn’t seem likely. Plus, these pigs have armor and weapons. This guy is unarmed. Well, unless you count his, uh, you know, meat mace. Will I really see someone die with their dick in their hands today!? Holy shit!

“… We got ourselves a big JOKE teller guy. A real clown here. Listen here, Mr. Clown, do you think you’re a funny guy? You one of those joke tellin’ guys like this one ‘er?” Now Jeb’s changed gears from ‘confusion’ to ‘frustration’ and ‘annoyance’. Jeb takes a couple steps towards the newcomer but he doesn’t flinch. Instead, the nudist looks over at me and we make eye contact again. He breaks it to look down at my handcuffs, now. For just a second, the newcomer’s nostrils flare. Was that anger? I feel a prickle on my spine.

“What are those chains for?” The newcomer asks and his gaze settles squarely on Jeb now. A tiny dust devil picks up a cloud of swirling sand and dances across the forgotten highway between the two men like it was drawing a line in the sand. Jed and Jef start to fan out and make a circle around the nudist, crossing that line no sooner had it been drawn. Yup, it was going to get ugly. This guy must have gotten too close to a sunspot. How else would you explain him walking around the desert butt naked? Either that, or he ate something he shouldn’t have…

“Listen here, fella…” Jeb took another step in towards the newcomer now. I’m sure I can hear him licking his lips, too, and I shudder. This guy’s luck was shit. Guess we have that in common.

“I’m gon’ ask the questions here. See this badge?” Jeb gestures towards an iron plate on his uniform; a simple circle, cut no wider than a tape measure, stamped with the letter K. The newcomer nods to signal that yes, he does, in fact, see the badge, but I can tell that he doesn’t get what it means. I have so many questions for this guy if he doesn’t die right now.

“This means I get to ask the questions. I’m the boss now. So, I’m gon’—“ Jeb starts to continue his little speech, but he gets cut off.  

“Tell me why he wears chains.” The newcomer’s voice is just as loud as it was before, but now it seems somehow more… commanding. There’s an edge that wasn’t there before. His eyes narrowed, too, but his hands are still at his side. I reel in my slack jaw here. This guy can’t be right. He must be sick or something. This is a death wish.

“Ain’t it obvious! She’s wearin’ the wrong clothes! Are you steeewpid!?” Jeb hasn’t quite exploded yet, but he’s malfunctioning now. That circuit was going to blow pretty soon – I could tell because he’d grabbed the baton off of his belt loop to ready it. Blatant foreshadowing of an ass whooping to come. I sigh – not just out of pity for this guy, but also at Jeb’s own ignorant insistence that I am a woman. I am not a woman. I am a man. How would you know, anyways? Only I know what I am. Not you, not them, not Klash, not anyone else. Just me, you dumb piece of shit.

“I’m not so sure. You there…” Now the newcomer was addressing me directly and I meet his golden amber gaze for a third time.

“Who are you?” He asks me. Jeb looks back over his shoulder at me and I can tell by his sneer that he does not want me to answer this question. Of course, that just pissed me off more so I decided to answer the guy.

“I’m Dash! The man, the myth, the wizard!” My voice is loud enough to blow back the newcomer’s mane and I do not break eye contact. His eyes widen in genuine surprise now, then his head tilts to the side for a second, rights itself, and finally, he begins to nod. He doesn’t stop nodding. He’s grinning now, too. His pupils dart upwards and I can tell he’s definitely thinking about something else and not about how Jed and Jef have also readied their batons, too. I want to go to whatever party is happening inside this guy’s head right now. For real. He’s grooving. Does he not realize he’s about to get his ass beat to death by three pink piggies with clubs?

“Cogito, ergo sum…” The newcomer mutters something I can’t quite understand. Is this a magic spell? Maybe I’m in luck and this guy is an actual wizard! Shit! That would actually explain a lot of this, too. Is he a wizard? I wait for fire to leap out of his eyes and melt the Enforcers down to their boots. It doesn’t happen. He speaks, instead.

“You know it to be true… and so it is.” The man makes eye contact with me one more time as he delivers this statement. Excuse me? I feel my jaw sinking again. Who the hell is this guy? He looks back at Jeb now.

“Release him.” There it is – that sudden gravity surprised me again. The newcomer’s nostrils flare once more. I catch him clenching his fist for a second. This is it now. The calm before the storm. I wonder who’s going to make the first move? Bet it’s Jeb. Yup, Jeb. Jeb couldn’t wait to take a swing at this guy and I could guess why – jealous pig.

Smack! The newcomer catches the club with his bare hand. Stone cold.

I can’t see it, but I’m imagining Jeb’s scared face right now and I can feel myself start to grin. Jeb’s grabbed onto his baton with both hands now and tries as hard as he can to wrench it out of the new guy’s grip. New guy still hasn’t flinched. Neither has the club. Jeb looks like a scared kid compared to the hulking nudist. I notice that the guy stopped grinning, too. Nope, he looks serious as fuck now. Alright, yeah, maybe this guy can fight… or make a distraction for me.

The new guy makes his move. In less than a second, Jeb is yanked forward by his baton directly into the new guy’s straight right and I cringe again because I can definitely hear Jeb’s jaw get completely pulverized by this guy’s massive fist, like it’s a steel sledgehammer blowing through a loose cinder block. Jeb’s head snaps left and rebounds right, his helmet tips and rolls off of his head, and I wonder if that sound I just heard was actually his neck breaking. In any case, Jeb’s out on his feet. If he’s even alive.

The nude dude is not out of the clear yet though. Right on cue, I hear the sizzle of Jed and Jef’s stun batons firing up. Not good. How would he deal with this? He can’t catch it, like last time. What’s he going to do? Maybe I can get the key off of Jeb while they fight…

That’s when this happens.

Jed and Jef go ahead and swing their electric batons at the new guy. New guy doesn’t even bother to face them, he’s still holding Jeb up by his baton. Not even a flinch from the new guy, so why did the batons stop in mid-air? Wait. What? I blink. What just happened? I cycle back a few frames in my memory reel here. Is that what happened? Holy shit! Déjà vu.

Now Jed and Jef are struggling to move their batons, but it seems like they’re frozen in place. Weird. Am I still alive? Is this a dream? Then, the statue speaks.

“You should not have done this.” His words are massive. This must be a dream. As soon as he drops that one line, he follows it up by dropping Jed with a vicious kick to the midsection that launches him from his feet and onto his back. Ouch. In the meantime, Jef decides to let go of his baton and wind up for a big haymaker. The guy is wise to it, though – he ducks back and lets Jef clock Jeb before Jeb finally tumbles to the ground. Before Jef can recover and square up with the new guy, he gets caught with a brutal roundhouse kick to the head. I can see his eyes go white for a second and I wonder if I just witnessed Jef’s ghost waving goodbye to his body. That’s two. Damn. This guy knows how to box. I wonder who taught him? Wait a second. What about Jed?

OH SHIT!!

I don’t think, I just act. My bare feet pump against the sand as I kick the earth as hard as I can, trying my damn hardest to close the distance to Jed now. Time slows to a crawl as it drags behind my adrenaline dump like a two-ton trailer. My eyes are riveted to one thing right now, and that’s the hand-made revolver that Jed is trying to pull from his holster. I jump on top of him now while he’s fumbling with the holster’s snap safety. He flattens out, prone beneath me, and I start to brain him in the back of his head with my manacles. I swing, I swing, and I swing my clasped hands together like a maul, making sure the edge of my handcuffs hits his skull with each blow. Crack. The old, rusty handcuffs break and at the same time, Jed stops his struggle. He’s not quite dead, but he might as well be.  Good riddance. I pat down his pockets and zap, what do I find? Handcuff keys. Free at last. A few clicks later, I can feel the sensation of cold air on my bare wrists, ankles, and neck again. Feels like freedom. I straighten up and face the newcomer now.

“Thanks man.” I offer him a nod, tilting my chin up towards the hungry desert sky. He meets my nod with one of his own, dipping his head down towards the earth and offering no words.

“You got a name?” I ask him now. I don’t bother to hide my curiosity, either. After all, this guy is like some sort of living legend that can stop batons with his mind. Speaking of which – why is that baton still floating in the air? As my gaze drifts away from the newcomer, the baton seems to hear my thought and it falls to the sand. I swing my one good eye back towards the new guy, now.

“My name is Arden. It is nice to meet you, Dash.” The new guy, Arden, now bows his head towards me again and this time, he offers me a smile. I smile back.

“Don’t take this the wrong way man, but uh… you don’t seem like you’re from around here. Around here, there’s guys like this…” I pause, gesturing towards one of the Brothers Bullshit lying nearby and continue, “And if they catch you walking’ around like that again, they’ll probably try to take you.” I finish the statement and purse my lips, imagining myself shaking my head grimly. Once again, Arden’s silent and unphased.

“If you want, I could show you a safe way? It looks like we’re going the same way anyways, right?” I continue now, getting a little bit unnerved by the fact that this guy doesn’t seem to have any tells or any real reaction to what I’m saying. I don’t like not being able to read this guy. He’s too dangerous to not be able to read.

Another silence as seems to turn this proposal over inside his head.

“You are a handsome man. I agree.” I can tell he’s a man of few words. That’s fine, though. Wait, did he just say I’m handsome? Huh. Cool. I like this guy already. He might make a good sidekick.

The real question is… what will the others think of him?

THREE DUCKS AND SOME BROKEN CUFFS
Written by Jungle.
© 2021, all rights reserved.

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