The story starts, as so many seem to, in an inn. But this is not just any inn, but the cleanest, friendliest inn in all of Emon - The Bright Vagabond - owned and operated by a halfling named Tarlan Hillspark. As he prepared to open for the day, a young baker's apprentice named Sliver entered nervously and was gestured to a seat at a large round table marked 'Reserved'. Soon, others gathered; a tall half-elf named Garrick with a symbol of the Raven Queen on his shield, a cheerful gnome named Ashrina dressed in bright colors, and a lanky humanoid called Kid, who wanted nothing more than a fresh cup of bean juice. All had received a mysterious summons from an organization known as The Clasp; though Sliver was concerned about this development, the others all seemed unsurprised to be there.
As they gathered, a woman entered who seemed far too frightened for the bright surroundings and was introduced as Dr. Dannell, who they had been instructed to meet. The group excused themselves upstairs to less spacious, but more private, surroundings - Ashrina's room at the Vagabond. There, the doctor admitted to being terrified of her benefactors, but with no other place to turn for help. A disgraced researcher in antiquities, she recently found a large stone on a dig - an egg, she claims, spawned by an eldrich horror. No one believed her, of course, and the egg was set to go on display at the Natural History Museum tomorrow. With one catch: tonight, it will hatch, and hundreds, if not thousands, would die. Conveniently, there was a gala opening for the exhibit that very evening, and the good doctor managed to procure tickets. She also offered to pay for new outfits so the group will fit in at the party. Not one to let a good deed go unrewarded, Ashrina also gave Dr. Dannell the opportunity to donate her bag of holding to the cause (of Ashrina having a sweet new interdimensional purse).
Spurred on mostly by curiosity and the Clasp's instructions, not to mention the promise of a swanky shopping spree, the group decided they will go ahead and save Emon after all, though they're not all convinced the egg is real. Sliver, for his part, isn't keen on the idea of killing a hatchling, even a freshly hatched eldrich horror. The professor's plan, as described, involved stealing the egg and then imprisoning it in a crystal that she just happens to have in her rooms. This will spare Sliver the moral quandary involved in killing something that has just hatched. He's also quite gratified that he's been summoned to steal something - he thought it was going to be something difficult.
After not deciding on a plan, the group headed for the Erudite Quarter to spend the good professor's hard earned money at Aura, a bespoke clothier. There they were greeted by the owner, the most fabulous kobold to walk the streets of Emon, and the group outfitted themselves with party attire after some haggling and paying a small fortune of someone else's gold for same-day service. All outfitted themselves well, but Sliver outdid himself in a purple jacket and green flared pants, intending to dress himself as a waiter for the gala and save the finery for another day.
On the way, the team decided that they were not going to steal the egg at the gala unless the perfect opportunity presented itself, and so Sliver's hopes of sneaking in as a waiter and walking out with the egg were dashed. After a quick walk around the block to find the museums' entrances and exits, they entered the museum and began admiring the exhibits on the ground floor. Garrick chatted up a bored museum employee in hopes of getting an in with the staff, learning of her side gig as a horror poet, while Kid found the staff entrances remarkably unsecure and Ashrina discovered a janitor exiting a secret room in one of the exhibit halls. Sliver purchased a museum badge from the gift shop, and promptly began bossing around the staff and escorting wealthy-looking patrons upstairs, not really listening to them except to glean information about the exhibit or any valuables on their persons. Tarlan, bemused, stayed behind to keep an eye on Sliver.
Finally, the group headed upstairs to where the exhibit would take place. Garrick headed directly for the privy-rooms to try and find a way to break the wall to get into the exhibit room with the egg. Tarlan examined the Allosaurus exhibit, found a panel, and asked Kid to take a look. Stealthily as can be, Kid opened the panel and found dials and levers, seemingly to control the dinosaur exhibit. Ashrina spotted a conveniently-placed and completely unsecured vent on the exhibit room wall. Not content with merely being extremely useful, she then snuck into the attic and unlocked the museum's skylight while Kid kept watch on...something else entirely.
The party began, with the curator opening the exhibit room and slipping the key into her clutch, which Kid noted she keeps to hand at all times. The group kept watch for signs of any party-goers under the influence of the egg's eldrich occupant, but saw nothing. Kid sidled up to the egg, finding the magical defenses on its pedestal. Garrick concerned himself with the doors, satisfied that the security mechanisms could be blocked with the furniture if need be. While Ashrina ate and drank merrily, Tarlan began speaking with a down-on-her luck noblewoman attending the party to find a suitable suitor. Noting Tarlan's suit from Aura, she seemed newly interested in his company, until Tarlan admitted that he doesn't regularly shop there and that parties makes him nervous. Sliver circulated, serving food and drinks to the patrons he'd scammed earlier and learning that the basement of the museum is full of valuable riches that no one does anything with. Ashrina, having seen the museum curator leave the room upon receiving a mysterious note, snuck after her, confirming both that the curator is a creepy doll enthusiast, and that she keeps the key to her office in her clutch.
At some point during all of this, Sliver left the party and wrote a vaguely threatening note to the curator on a bar napkin, reminding her that she's been warned of the consequences of putting the egg on display. He instructed a server to deliver the note, then removed his jacket and makeup and headed downstairs, away from the aftermath. As requested, the note was delivered, which the rest of the group saw the curator read and crumple up angrily. Tarlan then approached the curator, asking about the stone on display and insinuating that he'd seen something similar in a book. A book about eggs. Angrily refuting this assertion, the curator placed both hands on the stone, and a wave of energy rocked the room. Many party-goers became ill, including Ashrina, who broke out in a sheen and felt dizzy and weak momentarily. The chaos passed quickly, but it was enough for the curator to decide that in fact a gala opening for an eldrich horror was not a good idea and usher everyone out.
Back on the street, the group reassembled to ready themselves for the heist. But before anyone could say anything, Tarlan, staunch cleric of the Dawnfather and firm moral center of the group, held up the clutch he stole from the museum's curator during the commotion, and asked if anyone had forgotten their purse.

If you’re reading this I am begging you to believe me. Especially if you have children. My name is Leon and I have been investigating strange disappearances for four years. I am not an official investigator or a journalist. Before I started this whole thing I did not believe in ghosts or the paranormal. For me to believe in something I had to see it with my own two eyes! Everything had to be factual and everything had an explanation.
At least this is what I used to believe until my wife was murdered four years ago. They found her at work completely skinless. She was drained of blood and was missing all of her nails. They told me the precision required to accomplish this was not heard of yet. I waited months for answers and they never came, so I decided to go get them myself. I had no idea where to start or who to speak to so I went back to the store to try and dig up as much information as I could find.
Her manager eventually told me that she had gotten into a fight with a customer that day and that he assumed she went home on time. When her body was found in the employee break room he was shocked. He had no idea she was still in the building. He said he told me exactly what he told the police. I asked him if there was any footage of the man she was arguing with but he told me the security cameras were not working that day. I vividly remember wanting to punch this guy in his damn face. He was no help and I was determined to solve my wife's murder.
I ended up searching for the guy for months. I asked every one of her coworkers if they saw the argument and a couple of times I even had a run-in with the cops. They insisted that I should let them do their jobs and that they had everything handled. There was no chance I was going to listen to them. I had to take time off from my investigation to attend her funeral and make sure I got all of the preparations right. In hindsight, I was not growing properly and I really should've taken some time to reassess.
So fast forward another month and I finally get a lead. Something I assumed the cops didn't have, this meant I could finally get some answers before being stonewalled again. I ended up finding this guy, Will Brookes at a fucken motel off of the highway about three miles from where my wife worked. I waited for two days before I saw him leave his room to get ice. Once I knew what room to find him in I knocked until he opened the door. He was rightfully pissed but not as pissed as I was. It took every ounce of willpower in my body to not kill him on the spot.
“Why did you kill my wife?!” I snapped as I forced myself into the room and slammed the door behind me. He looked shocked.
“I did not kill her!” He screamed and tried to move around me. So I grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him into the wall next to the tv. This guy was not very heavy and not very strong. At that moment I was wondering how he could kill anyone.
“You were the last person to be seen with her alive!” I barked. I wanted to push his body through the wall. I wanted to crush him.
“I was bringing her the papers she requested for a job offer she accepted in a place called LittleBrooke!” The man said. He was shaking so I put him down and pushed him to the side. “Show me the papers,” I demanded. My wife had told me twice that she had gotten a new job offer. I was extremely excited! I work from home and would be happy to live wherever she wanted. All she had to do was say the word and we could’ve left as soon as possible. But she never made it home to tell me the news.
I watched as the shaking man handed me a stack of papers and even a suitcase. “Here, take it and please leave me alone!” He shouted. “Okay.” I left the motel room and went right to my car. I put everything on the passenger seat and went home. Once I got there I sobbed in the driveway for over an hour before finally getting out and heading inside. I never got to see her body and I never got to say goodbye. Being in this house felt like I was walking into a damn shallow grave of sorts.
I went right to the master bedroom and packed up as many clothes as I could. I even took some of her favorite items, I don’t know why. I took a couple of pillows and two blankets, and after that, I went around to search the rest of the house. Once I had finished in the master bedroom I went and grabbed all my items from the bathroom. After that, I went into the nursery. We were planning on trying to have a baby once she got her new job. I looked around the nursery and took some stuffed animals and blankets, nothing too crazy. I also made sure to grab our family photo album. Finally, I made sure to grab all of the savings from the jar we had plus anything I kept in the safe. I also made sure to grab our wedding video and once I had everything I thought I could need I left the house. On my way out I made sure to tell the building goodbye.
Once I got back into my car I decided to drive a bit. No way in hell was I going to the same motel as that guy so I drove until I hit a hotel far enough away from my house. I did not end up checking in though. Once I got close enough I backed up and just kept driving. I eventually hit a truck stop after a couple of hours and decided to rest my eyes for a while. I was exhausted and there were way too many questions rushing through my head. I knew if I kept driving in that state I would probably crash or something.
After sleeping for four hours I decided it was time to look through the papers and figure out what I was going to do next. I took the first paper from the stack and started to read it. For the sake of time here I will only tell you guys what I found that was interesting.
Paper One: You have been accepted to work as a store manager! Please review your employee packet for more information.
So as I am going over this first paper a couple of things stick out to me. Whoever wrote this was trying not to be specific. The whole paper was one big announcement for a new store opening up in a place called LittleBrooke. There was no state mentioned anywhere on this paper, I would later find out that this place was supposed to be in Washington D.C.
I decided to dig around and eventually found the employee packet. She accepted a job at a mega-store called BrightMarketZ. I thought it was a pretty weird name but what stood out to me was what they were offering to pay her. $22.00 an hour! I couldn't believe it. No wonder she said yes and didn’t bother to ask any questions.
Paper Twenty: To find LittleBrooke please enter [REDACTED] into your GPS device. You will be staying inside apartment 307. All rent for your first month in LittleBrooke is covered by your employer. Please note that all apartments are two-bedroom only. If you have a larger household please speak to Sydney May at Town Hall for bigger accommodations.
After reading this I decided to just go to LittleBrooke and get answers. I was assuming that I would find out what the hell happened if I just went. I wanted to know what my wife died for and I wanted to know why this was some big secret in the first place. I went back to bed and as soon as the sun came up I put the information into my GPS and headed for LittleBrooke.

Year One in LittleBrooke

It took me three weeks to reach LittleBrooke and I could tell that something was wrong the moment I found the town. If I wasn't so damn desperate for answers I would've turned around as soon as I saw the library. The building itself wasn't big but the two huge lions on either side of the staircase gave me the creeps.
After that I passed a mechanic, the whole place looked run down as hell. There wasn't a single car to be seen but the sign said open. The man standing outside of the building waved to me so I gave him a slow wave back. He looked weird. At the time I couldn’t place my finger on why but now I know it’s because he was not human.
The theater was kind of cool to look at in a vintage kind of way. They were not showing anything when I drove by and I made the decision early on to stay out of the theater altogether. After the theater, I saw a small building that said LittleBrooke Press. If anything else I figured I could write for the paper.
As I approached the apartment building a woman was standing outside. Her face was weird as hell. It looked like she had far too much plastic surgery like her face was threatening to pop at any moment. “Hi, can I help you?” she asked me. Her voice was shrill, it was gross to even hear her speak. It sounded like she was putting on a fake voice just to speak to me. “Hi, my wife accepted a job offer. Unfortunately, she has passed away. I would still like to claim the apartment left to us. I can work at any place that currently has an opening.” I offered.
“LittleBrooke Press has space for two more writers!” She smiled and handed me the keys to the apartment. She never asked my name and she knew exactly where I wanted to go. I thought it was weird but I didn’t argue. Instead, I took the keys and thanked her. I spent that whole day getting settled into the new apartment. A couple of things, the front door had four different locks on it. I thought that was pretty weird. I also did not see or hear any other people until my third night in the apartment. I called the LittleBrooke Press about a potential job and they told me to email my submissions. There was no need for me to come in person and honestly, I liked this deal a lot.
For the first few months, I spent my time writing about whatever came to my mind. After that, I would send it in and get my money back. The editor never told me what to do and they never requested anything. It was sweet. As December rolled around I could feel myself slipping into a seasonal depression. At that point, I had made no progress in any of my investigations. I did not know the town well enough and frankly, I felt like I was wasting my time. That night I decided to check out the local bar. It was pretty hidden, you had to drive further into LittleBrooke to find it. Once I got there I was shocked! The place was packed. I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink.
The bartender was hot as hell, too hot. She was so even looking so perfectly symmetrical that it made me extremely uncomfortable. There wasn’t a single hair out of place. “So are you new in town?” She asked me. “Yeah, I just got here a couple of months ago. My now-deceased wife accepted a job offer here.” I said bluntly and dryly. I wanted to finish my drink and go. It was like the bones in my body were screaming at me to leave. The woman looked shocked. “Tell me, does that happen often? Do people accept a job offer in LittleBrooke and turn up dead a couple of days later?” I hissed. It was a genuine question but she did not take it too kindly. She took my drink from my hands and told me to leave.
As I made my way back to my car I could hear someone coming up from behind me. I turned around as fast as possible and had to take three steps back. It was the bartender, but she did not look the same. Half of her face was weighed down like she had no bones at all. Her eyes were bulging out of her head. She gurgled at me. “You need to leave!” She finally snapped and swung her arm in my direction. I moved back before she could hit me. As her hand hit my car window it shattered like it was made of ice. I watched as her arm popped and clicked. I could see it slowly getting longer. Before I knew it her arm was dragging on the pavement! She lunged at me so I punched her in her stomach. She gurgled again and sunk her teeth into my jacket. I screamed for help as we hit the pavement. She was trying fucken eat me! I grabbed her by her hair and threw her backward as hard as I could. As I scrambled to my feet and looked at her I screamed again. Her skin was pulled back. Now hugging the bones on her face. Her eyes were completely exposed! I turned and dove into my car as fast as I could. I slammed the door behind me and sped out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.
The next morning I received a letter under my door. “Sorry, you had problems last night! Please accept our sincerest apologies.” -Mayor Brookes. There was $300 included with the letter. Now, I thought about leaving but decided I had to stay. Something was going on here and I had to find out what. I removed my jacket to see if the woman had injured me, she didn't but the experience was still terrifying. For the first time in a very long time, I was scared. But I also felt closer to the truth than I have ever been before.

Year Two in LittleBrooke

I spent all of January writing about the women who attacked me. I even contacted the police. I quickly learned that the police were going to be completely useless. My editor never sent the story back so I had assumed it was published.
At the end of the month, I left to shop for some supplies. Let me tell you, the grocery store in LittleBrooke is something else. They don’t have any brands you’ve ever heard of and at first, that drove me nuts. However, I quickly came to fall in love with the food here. It was comforting to have something to enjoy. Like always, I made sure to shop for two to three months at a time. Shopping was easy, I used the self-checkout to make sure I didn’t have to speak to anyone.
Once I got home I put everything away and decided to look around the apartment building. My whole floor started with 301 and went all the way to 310. The first floor was 501 to 509. There was a technical second floor but none of the doors were labeled. It looked like someone was renovating the place.
I got to see some of my neighbors too. An older woman, two men, and I were living next door to a lady the whole time. I had never seen or heard from these people before. It seemed like everyone wanted to keep to themselves too. I wanted to try and talk to someone but every time I approached them they turned and walked away. For what it's worth they looked completely normal.
So I left the apartment building and ventured around the property. There were no other apartments anywhere close to the one I was staying at, or so I thought until I found one about thirty minutes away. It was so out of the way you wouldn't find it unless you were looking. Against my better judgment, I opened the doors to the building and walked right inside. The place smelled like rust and soot.
I went to explore the first floor and was shocked to find blood trails on the floor and the ceiling. I followed the trail and made sure to look at the numbers on each door. This floor was numbered 1-10. Most of the doors were locked and I wasn’t going to try and knock anything down. I opened the door to apartment 10 and walked right inside. There was just enough light from the sun to illuminate the place. It looked like the whole place had been ransacked. I checked the tables and cabinets before heading into the bedroom. I searched the dresser and under the pillows before finally checking under the bed. When I looked under I spotted a black box. I grabbed it and that is when I got the feeling again. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt something sharp dig into my shoulders.
I screamed as loudly as I could, my face slammed off of the carpet and I clenched the box with one hand. Before I could figure out what the hell was happening I was tossed backward. I went into the bedroom door and rolled a couple of times until I reached the torn-up couch. I slowly lifted my head and to my horror what I was looking at was way too far from human to be real.
It looked like a dog ape thing. It was mostly skinless aside from some skin on its torso and face. The creature had thick, long claws and was standing on its hind legs. It barked at me. Its fangs were huge! I quickly scrambled to my feet and rushed out of the door as fast as possible. I could feel the blood running down my back. Never once did I consider letting this box go.
“Help!” I screamed as I burst through the apartment complex doors and started to run back to the main road. My heart was pounding, I could feel my chest getting tighter with each step. I could hear the beast behind me, it was screeching. I thought I was going to die for sure, there was no way I could continue to outrun this beast. That’s when I heard a car and before I knew it I could see it! A woman was waving me over, she was just up ahead! I had to push a little harder. I had to be just a little stronger.
When I felt the embrace of the car door I ripped it open and dove inside. She sped away and I looked out of the window. The beast did not follow us any further. “Are you insane!” She snapped at me. That’s the last thing I remember before passing out.
When I woke up I was laying on my stomach on an extremely comfortable couch. I could smell someone making pasta with meat sauce. My stomach was going insane. Everything hurt though, especially my back and my left side. I figured I had hurt my side when I was tossed across the room.
At this point, I did not dive into the box yet. I could barely move. “Hi.” I heard a woman say from the kitchen. “Thank you,” I replied before trying to sit up. I was so concerned that this woman would be another monster. When I saw her though I knew she was normal. She didn't look so damn perfect and that was a breath of fresh air.
“What's your name?” She asked me as I watched her prepare two bowls of food.
“Leon,” I said before closing my eyes. “You heard me screaming?” I asked her seriously.
“I did. I’m pretty sure everyone in our building did. You got hurt pretty badly, I did my best to patch you up.” She paused and laughed. “My name is Ashley.”
So I ended up crashing at her place. During this time I tried to focus on recovering. Sleeping became hell, I was having constant nightmares. I also spent a lot of time working on articles. I ended up giving Ash the keys to my apartment so she could get my laptop. It was a big move to trust anyone here but I am glad I did.
​

Year Three and Four in LittleBrooke

During my recovery, I spent most of my time writing. I wanted to write about everything I have seen and experienced. I had a lot of questions and way too much time with my thoughts. Ash and I got to know each other too.
I told her about how my wife had died mysteriously. I eventually opened up about her being skinned and drained of her blood. Ash told me she had come to LittleBrooke with her older sister. Her sister went to work one day and never came back. She was working at the theater. Ash had told me that she was stuck here, she didn’t feel right leaving with her sister still missing. Every time she would try the cops would meet her at the town line.
It was during this time that we both shared that we had never seen a police station. We talked about the monsters too. Her first run-in with one was at the grocery store. I told her about what happened to me at the bar. She told me that she heard rumors of the beast living beyond the apartments. The first time she saw it was when it was attacking me.
As I started to recover more we discussed a couple of things. First, the neighbors here suck. She could hear me screaming and came to help but no one else did. Second, neither of us has seen any families since we moved here. It was at this point I decided I wanted to leave and I offered to take her with me. We could both get out come hell or high water. She agreed but there was something I had to do first.
I showed her the box I had taken from the apartment.
“You almost died for a box?” Ash asked me. “Yes,” I said seriously.
I opened it and blinked. I found a picture of a girl with black hair and bright green eyes. It read, Stephanie. I found a missing persons report too. This girl had been missing a year before I got here. I decided that my last article would be about her. I had written about a couple of missing people before this. For example, the old lady in our building vanished and her apartment was rented out two days later.
I also found a badge inside the box. It read F.O.P.P. and there was a name! Jack Bridges. We tried to look up the organization's name but we came up empty-handed. I ended up writing the story about Stephanie and the next day Ash and I got packing. We decided to take my car since the cops know what hers looks like. I packed up the essentials all over again and we piled into the car. “We should check the other direction. Before we leave.” I suggested. Ash knew about the bar already but neither of us knew what was beyond that point: This suggested changed the course of our lives forever.
So we started driving in the other direction. We passed the bar where the woman had tried to eat me, we passed a convenience store I didn’t know this town had and we just kept driving. Eventually, I could hear Ash speaking to me, “Holy shit! The police station.” she pointed out. I couldn’t believe it either. I did not stop driving though but I wish I did.
Eventually, we saw a sign that read, LittleBrooke High. Go Bears!
I started to slow down a bit until the school was in view. The place looked run down as hell. There were holes in the walls and leaves growing up the side of the building. The parking lot was massive and full of buses. I pulled the car into the parking lot and told Ash to get into the driver's seat.
“You’re not serious?” She asked me. I could tell she wanted to go but I said, “This is it! This is the last place of note in this fucken town. Just take the wheel and I will be right back.” I said as I jumped out of the car and went to look around.
As I approached one of the buses I grabbed the doors, they were already open a crack. I pulled them open and was hit with a horrible stench. I had to step back and puke and no I am not going to describe what I saw in that fucken bus. At that point, I decided I had seen enough and it was time to fucken go.
“Help!” I heard someone cry from a couple of buses over. “Please!” I heard again. I wanted to slap myself because I knew better. I had already decided it was time to leave but I went to investigate anyway. I went to the bus and pulled the doors open. It smelled like stale piss and blood. “Back here!” A girl screamed out to me. I made my way to the back of the bus, stepping on school jackets and over backpacks. That is where I found them. Two teenagers are tied to the leg of a bus seat. They looked horrible, caking in blood and sweat. They were both injured. “Stephanie?!” I exclaimed as I bent over to free them. I recognized her face the moment I saw it.
“Can you move? I asked the blonde girl.” As I started to let her go. “Everything hurts.” She told me. I opened the emergency exit and called for Ash to pull the car over. It took her a second to hear me but she came as fast as possible. “I am going to get you guys in the car and we are going to get out of here, okay?” I told them. I wanted to tell them everything was going to be okay, but I couldn't. It felt like that would be a huge lie.
Ash stepped out of the car and helped get the girls into the backseat. As I stopped to look around I could feel the bus shift in weight. I turned around and inhaled sharply. Standing before me was a creature wearing a jacket that said COACH on it. He looked sickly, and pale, and his veins were protruding from his face and hands. As he ran at me I jumped out of the emergency exit door just in time to feel something slam off of the back of my head. I looked down to see a barbed football. I could feel blood trickling down my neck, I stumbled forward and felt a hand grab my arm. Ash was shoving me into the car. She slid over me, closed the passenger door, and backed the car up. I thought she was moving like lightning.
At this point, everyone was screaming. My heart was threatening to jump out of my fucken chest. I was so sure we were all going to die here, just like everyone else I had seen on the buses. But no, Ash sped out of the parking lot. The coach chased us to the school limits but for some reason, he did not follow us anymore.
I know we should've stopped to see if the kids could find their parents but we didn't. Instead, Ash just kept driving. Eventually, we could hear the cops behind us but that did not stop her. It took us six hours to finally see the You Are New Leaving LittleBrooke sign! I couldn’t believe it. This place was not that big at all.
So listen, if you’re invited to take a job in LittleBrooke. Don’t take it. It’s not worth your life.

If you’re reading this I am begging you to believe me. Especially if you have children. My name is Leon and I have been investigating strange disappearances for four years. I am not an official investigator or a journalist. Before I started this whole thing I did not believe in ghosts or the paranormal. For me to believe in something I had to see it with my own two eyes! Everything had to be factual and everything had an explanation.
At least this is what I used to believe until my wife was murdered four years ago. They found her at work completely skinless. She was drained of blood and was missing all of her nails. They told me the precision required to accomplish this was not heard of yet. I waited months for answers and they never came, so I decided to go get them myself. I had no idea where to start or who to speak to so I went back to the store to try and dig up as much information as I could find.
Her manager eventually told me that she had gotten into a fight with a customer that day and that he assumed she went home on time. When her body was found in the employee break room he was shocked. He had no idea she was still in the building. He said he told me exactly what he told the police. I asked him if there was any footage of the man she was arguing with but he told me the security cameras were not working that day. I vividly remember wanting to punch this guy in his damn face. He was no help and I was determined to solve my wife's murder.
I ended up searching for the guy for months. I asked every one of her coworkers if they saw the argument and a couple of times I even had a run-in with the cops. They insisted that I should let them do their jobs and that they had everything handled. There was no chance I was going to listen to them. I had to take time off from my investigation to attend her funeral and make sure I got all of the preparations right. In hindsight, I was not growing properly and I really should've taken some time to reassess.
So fast forward another month and I finally get a lead. Something I assumed the cops didn't have, this meant I could finally get some answers before being stonewalled again. I ended up finding this guy, Will Brookes at a fucken motel off of the highway about three miles from where my wife worked. I waited for two days before I saw him leave his room to get ice. Once I knew what room to find him in I knocked until he opened the door. He was rightfully pissed but not as pissed as I was. It took every ounce of willpower in my body to not kill him on the spot.
“Why did you kill my wife?!” I snapped as I forced myself into the room and slammed the door behind me. He looked shocked.
“I did not kill her!” He screamed and tried to move around me. So I grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him into the wall next to the tv. This guy was not very heavy and not very strong. At that moment I was wondering how he could kill anyone.
“You were the last person to be seen with her alive!” I barked. I wanted to push his body through the wall. I wanted to crush him.
“I was bringing her the papers she requested for a job offer she accepted in a place called LittleBrooke!” The man said. He was shaking so I put him down and pushed him to the side. “Show me the papers,” I demanded. My wife had told me twice that she had gotten a new job offer. I was extremely excited! I work from home and would be happy to live wherever she wanted. All she had to do was say the word and we could’ve left as soon as possible. But she never made it home to tell me the news.
I watched as the shaking man handed me a stack of papers and even a suitcase. “Here, take it and please leave me alone!” He shouted. “Okay.” I left the motel room and went right to my car. I put everything on the passenger seat and went home. Once I got there I sobbed in the driveway for over an hour before finally getting out and heading inside. I never got to see her body and I never got to say goodbye. Being in this house felt like I was walking into a damn shallow grave of sorts.
I went right to the master bedroom and packed up as many clothes as I could. I even took some of her favorite items, I don’t know why. I took a couple of pillows and two blankets, and after that, I went around to search the rest of the house. Once I had finished in the master bedroom I went and grabbed all my items from the bathroom. After that, I went into the nursery. We were planning on trying to have a baby once she got her new job. I looked around the nursery and took some stuffed animals and blankets, nothing too crazy. I also made sure to grab our family photo album. Finally, I made sure to grab all of the savings from the jar we had plus anything I kept in the safe. I also made sure to grab our wedding video and once I had everything I thought I could need I left the house. On my way out I made sure to tell the building goodbye.
Once I got back into my car I decided to drive a bit. No way in hell was I going to the same motel as that guy so I drove until I hit a hotel far enough away from my house. I did not end up checking in though. Once I got close enough I backed up and just kept driving. I eventually hit a truck stop after a couple of hours and decided to rest my eyes for a while. I was exhausted and there were way too many questions rushing through my head. I knew if I kept driving in that state I would probably crash or something. After sleeping for four hours I decided it was time to look through the papers and figure out what I was going to do next. I took the first paper from the stack and started to read it. For the sake of time here I will only tell you guys what I found that was interesting.
Paper One: You have been accepted to work as a store manager! Please review your employee packet for more information.
So as I am going over this first paper a couple of things stick out to me. Whoever wrote this was trying not to be specific. The whole paper was one big announcement for a new store opening up in a place called LittleBrooke. There was no state mentioned anywhere on this paper, I would later find out that this place was supposed to be in Washington D.C.
I decided to dig around and eventually found the employee packet. She accepted a job at a mega-store called BrightMarketZ. I thought it was a pretty weird name but what stood out to me was what they were offering to pay her. $22.00 an hour! I couldn't believe it. No wonder she said yes and didn’t bother to ask any questions.
Paper Twenty: To find LittleBrooke please enter [REDACTED] into your GPS device. You will be staying inside apartment 307. All rent for your first month in LittleBrooke is covered by your employer. Please note that all apartments are two-bedroom only. If you have a larger household please speak to Sydney May at Town Hall for bigger accommodations. After reading this I decided to just go to LittleBrooke and get answers. I was assuming that I would find out what the hell happened if I just went. I wanted to know what my wife died for and I wanted to know why this was some big secret in the first place. I went back to bed and as soon as the sun came up I put the information into my GPS and headed for LittleBrooke.

Year One in LittleBrooke

It took me three weeks to reach LittleBrooke and I could tell that something was wrong the moment I found the town. If I wasn't so damn desperate for answers I would've turned around as soon as I saw the library. The building itself wasn't big but the two huge lions on either side of the staircase gave me the creeps.
After that I passed a mechanic, the whole place looked run down as hell. There wasn't a single car to be seen but the sign said open. The man standing outside of the building waved to me so I gave him a slow wave back. He looked weird. At the time I couldn’t place my finger on why but now I know it’s because he was not human.
The theater was kind of cool to look at in a vintage kind of way. They were not showing anything when I drove by and I made the decision early on to stay out of the theater altogether. After the theater, I saw a small building that said LittleBrooke Press. If anything else I figured I could write for the paper.
As I approached the apartment building a woman was standing outside. Her face was weird as hell. It looked like she had far too much plastic surgery like her face was threatening to pop at any moment. “Hi, can I help you?” she asked me. Her voice was shrill, it was gross to even hear her speak. It sounded like she was putting on a fake voice just to speak to me. “Hi, my wife accepted a job offer. Unfortunately, she has passed away. I would still like to claim the apartment left to us. I can work at any place that currently has an opening.” I offered.
“LittleBrooke Press has space for two more writers!” She smiled and handed me the keys to the apartment. She never asked my name and she knew exactly where I wanted to go. I thought it was weird but I didn’t argue. Instead, I took the keys and thanked her. I spent that whole day getting settled into the new apartment. A couple of things, the front door had four different locks on it. I thought that was pretty weird. I also did not see or hear any other people until my third night in the apartment. I called the LittleBrooke Press about a potential job and they told me to email my submissions. There was no need for me to come in person and honestly, I liked this deal a lot.
For the first few months, I spent my time writing about whatever came to my mind. After that, I would send it in and get my money back. The editor never told me what to do and they never requested anything. It was sweet. As December rolled around I could feel myself slipping into a seasonal depression. At that point, I had made no progress in any of my investigations. I did not know the town well enough and frankly, I felt like I was wasting my time. That night I decided to check out the local bar. It was pretty hidden, you had to drive further into LittleBrooke to find it. Once I got there I was shocked! The place was packed. I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink.
The bartender was hot as hell, too hot. She was so even looking so perfectly symmetrical that it made me extremely uncomfortable. There wasn’t a single hair out of place. “So are you new in town?” She asked me. “Yeah, I just got here a couple of months ago. My now-deceased wife accepted a job offer here.” I said bluntly and dryly. I wanted to finish my drink and go. It was like the bones in my body were screaming at me to leave. The woman looked shocked. “Tell me, does that happen often? Do people accept a job offer in LittleBrooke and turn up dead a couple of days later?” I hissed. It was a genuine question but she did not take it too kindly. She took my drink from my hands and told me to leave.
As I made my way back to my car I could hear someone coming up from behind me. I turned around as fast as possible and had to take three steps back. It was the bartender, but she did not look the same. Half of her face was weighed down like she had no bones at all. Her eyes were bulging out of her head. She gurgled at me. “You need to leave!” She finally snapped and swung her arm in my direction. I moved back before she could hit me. As her hand hit my car window it shattered like it was made of ice. I watched as her arm popped and clicked. I could see it slowly getting longer. Before I knew it her arm was dragging on the pavement! She lunged at me so I punched her in her stomach. She gurgled again and sunk her teeth into my jacket. I screamed for help as we hit the pavement. She was trying fucken eat me! I grabbed her by her hair and threw her backward as hard as I could. As I scrambled to my feet and looked at her I screamed again. Her skin was pulled back. Now hugging the bones on her face. Her eyes were completely exposed! I turned and dove into my car as fast as I could. I slammed the door behind me and sped out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.
The next morning I received a letter under my door. “Sorry, you had problems last night! Please accept our sincerest apologies.” -Mayor Brookes. There was $300 included with the letter. Now, I thought about leaving but decided I had to stay. Something was going on here and I had to find out what. I removed my jacket to see if the woman had injured me, she didn't but the experience was still terrifying. For the first time in a very long time, I was scared. But I also felt closer to the truth than I have ever been before.

Year Two in LittleBrooke

I spent all of January writing about the women who attacked me. I even contacted the police. I quickly learned that the police were going to be completely useless. My editor never sent the story back so I had assumed it was published.
At the end of the month, I left to shop for some supplies. Let me tell you, the grocery store in LittleBrooke is something else. They don’t have any brands you’ve ever heard of and at first, that drove me nuts. However, I quickly came to fall in love with the food here. It was comforting to have something to enjoy. Like always, I made sure to shop for two to three months at a time. Shopping was easy, I used the self-checkout to make sure I didn’t have to speak to anyone.
Once I got home I put everything away and decided to look around the apartment building. My whole floor started with 301 and went all the way to 310. The first floor was 501 to 509. There was a technical second floor but none of the doors were labeled. It looked like someone was renovating the place.
I got to see some of my neighbors too. An older woman, two men, and I were living next door to a lady the whole time. I had never seen or heard from these people before. It seemed like everyone wanted to keep to themselves too. I wanted to try and talk to someone but every time I approached them they turned and walked away. For what it's worth they looked completely normal.
So I left the apartment building and ventured around the property. There were no other apartments anywhere close to the one I was staying at, or so I thought until I found one about thirty minutes away. It was so out of the way you wouldn't find it unless you were looking. Against my better judgment, I opened the doors to the building and walked right inside. The place smelled like rust and soot.
I went to explore the first floor and was shocked to find blood trails on the floor and the ceiling. I followed the trail and made sure to look at the numbers on each door. This floor was numbered 1-10. Most of the doors were locked and I wasn’t going to try and knock anything down. I opened the door to apartment 10 and walked right inside. There was just enough light from the sun to illuminate the place. It looked like the whole place had been ransacked. I checked the tables and cabinets before heading into the bedroom. I searched the dresser and under the pillows before finally checking under the bed. When I looked under I spotted a black box. I grabbed it and that is when I got the feeling again. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt something sharp dig into my shoulders.
I screamed as loudly as I could, my face slammed off of the carpet and I clenched the box with one hand. Before I could figure out what the hell was happening I was tossed backward. I went into the bedroom door and rolled a couple of times until I reached the torn-up couch. I slowly lifted my head and to my horror what I was looking at was way too far from human to be real.
It looked like a dog ape thing. It was mostly skinless aside from some skin on its torso and face. The creature had thick, long claws and was standing on its hind legs. It barked at me. Its fangs were huge! I quickly scrambled to my feet and rushed out of the door as fast as possible. I could feel the blood running down my back. Never once did I consider letting this box go.
“Help!” I screamed as I burst through the apartment complex doors and started to run back to the main road. My heart was pounding, I could feel my chest getting tighter with each step. I could hear the beast behind me, it was screeching. I thought I was going to die for sure, there was no way I could continue to outrun this beast. That’s when I heard a car and before I knew it I could see it! A woman was waving me over, she was just up ahead! I had to push a little harder. I had to be just a little stronger.
When I felt the embrace of the car door I ripped it open and dove inside. She sped away and I looked out of the window. The beast did not follow us any further. “Are you insane!” She snapped at me. That’s the last thing I remember before passing out.
When I woke up I was laying on my stomach on an extremely comfortable couch. I could smell someone making pasta with meat sauce. My stomach was going insane. Everything hurt though, especially my back and my left side. I figured I had hurt my side when I was tossed across the room.
At this point, I did not dive into the box yet. I could barely move. “Hi.” I heard a woman say from the kitchen. “Thank you,” I replied before trying to sit up. I was so concerned that this woman would be another monster. When I saw her though I knew she was normal. She didn't look so damn perfect and that was a breath of fresh air.
“What's your name?” She asked me as I watched her prepare two bowls of food.
“Leon,” I said before closing my eyes. “You heard me screaming?” I asked her seriously.
“I did. I’m pretty sure everyone in our building did. You got hurt pretty badly, I did my best to patch you up.” She paused and laughed. “My name is Ashley.”
So I ended up crashing at her place. During this time I tried to focus on recovering. Sleeping became hell, I was having constant nightmares. I also spent a lot of time working on articles. I ended up giving Ash the keys to my apartment so she could get my laptop. It was a big move to trust anyone here but I am glad I did.

Year Three and Four in LittleBrooke

During my recovery, I spent most of my time writing. I wanted to write about everything I have seen and experienced. I had a lot of questions and way too much time with my thoughts. Ash and I got to know each other too.
I told her about how my wife had died mysteriously. I eventually opened up about her being skinned and drained of her blood. Ash told me she had come to LittleBrooke with her older sister. Her sister went to work one day and never came back. She was working at the theater. Ash had told me that she was stuck here, she didn’t feel right leaving with her sister still missing. Every time she would try the cops would meet her at the town line.
It was during this time that we both shared that we had never seen a police station. We talked about the monsters too. Her first run-in with one was at the grocery store. I told her about what happened to me at the bar. She told me that she heard rumors of the beast living beyond the apartments. The first time she saw it was when it was attacking me.
As I started to recover more we discussed a couple of things. First, the neighbors here suck. She could hear me screaming and came to help but no one else did. Second, neither of us has seen any families since we moved here. It was at this point I decided I wanted to leave and I offered to take her with me. We could both get out come hell or high water. She agreed but there was something I had to do first.
I showed her the box I had taken from the apartment.
“You almost died for a box?” Ash asked me. “Yes,” I said seriously.
I opened it and blinked. I found a picture of a girl with black hair and bright green eyes. It read, Stephanie. I found a missing persons report too. This girl had been missing a year before I got here. I decided that my last article would be about her. I had written about a couple of missing people before this. For example, the old lady in our building vanished and her apartment was rented out two days later.
I also found a badge inside the box. It read F.O.P.P. and there was a name! Jack Bridges. We tried to look up the organization's name but we came up empty-handed. I ended up writing the story about Stephanie and the next day Ash and I got packing. We decided to take my car since the cops know what hers looks like. I packed up the essentials all over again and we piled into the car.
“We should check the other direction. Before we leave.” I suggested. Ash knew about the bar already but neither of us knew what was beyond that point: This suggested changed the course of our lives forever.
So we started driving in the other direction. We passed the bar where the woman had tried to eat me, we passed a convenience store I didn’t know this town had and we just kept driving. Eventually, I could hear Ash speaking to me, “Holy shit! The police station.” she pointed out. I couldn’t believe it either. I did not stop driving though but I wish I did.
Eventually, we saw a sign that read, LittleBrooke High. Go Bears!
I started to slow down a bit until the school was in view. The place looked run down as hell. There were holes in the walls and leaves growing up the side of the building. The parking lot was massive and full of buses. I pulled the car into the parking lot and told Ash to get into the driver's seat.
“You’re not serious?” She asked me. I could tell she wanted to go but I said, “This is it! This is the last place of note in this fucken town. Just take the wheel and I will be right back.” I said as I jumped out of the car and went to look around.
As I approached one of the buses I grabbed the doors, they were already open a crack. I pulled them open and was hit with a horrible stench. I had to step back and puke and no I am not going to describe what I saw in that fucken bus. At that point, I decided I had seen enough and it was time to fucken go.
“Help!” I heard someone cry from a couple of buses over. “Please!” I heard again. I wanted to slap myself because I knew better. I had already decided it was time to leave but I went to investigate anyway. I went to the bus and pulled the doors open. It smelled like stale piss and blood. “Back here!” A girl screamed out to me. I made my way to the back of the bus, stepping on school jackets and over backpacks. That is where I found them. Two teenagers are tied to the leg of a bus seat. They looked horrible, caking in blood and sweat. They were both injured. “Stephanie?!” I exclaimed as I bent over to free them. I recognized her face the moment I saw it.
“Can you move? I asked the blonde girl.” As I started to let her go. “Everything hurts.” She told me. I opened the emergency exit and called for Ash to pull the car over. It took her a second to hear me but she came as fast as possible. “I am going to get you guys in the car and we are going to get out of here, okay?” I told them. I wanted to tell them everything was going to be okay, but I couldn't. It felt like that would be a huge lie.
Ash stepped out of the car and helped get the girls into the backseat. As I stopped to look around I could feel the bus shift in weight. I turned around and inhaled sharply. Standing before me was a creature wearing a jacket that said COACH on it. He looked sickly, and pale, and his veins were protruding from his face and hands. As he ran at me I jumped out of the emergency exit door just in time to feel something slam off of the back of my head. I looked down to see a barbed football. I could feel blood trickling down my neck, I stumbled forward and felt a hand grab my arm. Ash was shoving me into the car. She slid over me, closed the passenger door, and backed the car up. I thought she was moving like lightning.
At this point, everyone was screaming. My heart was threatening to jump out of my fucken chest. I was so sure we were all going to die here, just like everyone else I had seen on the buses. But no, Ash sped out of the parking lot. The coach chased us to the school limits but for some reason, he did not follow us anymore.
I know we should've stopped to see if the kids could find their parents but we didn't. Instead, Ash just kept driving. Eventually, we could hear the cops behind us but that did not stop her. It took us six hours to finally see the You Are New Leaving LittleBrooke sign! I couldn’t believe it. This place was not that big at all.
So listen, if you’re invited to take a job in LittleBrooke. Don’t take it. It’s not worth your life.

I always feel as though I'm at fault for my siblings suffering. As my mum always said if she didn't have children she wouldn't be stuck with my narcissistic father. I always feel because of my birth that my mum was forced to stay in a relationship with my father to support & care for me. Then over time she couldn't leave resulting in them producing more children. I'm the eldest of 4, my father hates me and my brother (2nd born). Yet treats my younger siblings like royalty. My mums family rarely comes over to see us, I don't even remember what they look like anymore they hate dealing with my father and his attitude. My father's family doesnt see how he is towards us as he is the "kind father everyone wish they had". Yet at home he always puts us down, makes comments about our bodies, tells us to kill ourselves or to leave forever. He makes my youngest sister ( age 7 ) stay home from school everyday it's been about a month since she's been at school in a row. Shes very underdeveloped, I've been trying to homeschool her but my father says to her "don't feed into her rubbish". Today my ex boyfriend came over early in the morning (12am) so we could talk, he was very busy with school and sports so we couldn't talk at any other time. We patched a lot of things up (we did have sex) but because we are already very comfortable with each other and we don't hate one another, when he left around 7am I went to sleep. I woke up around 3pm and felt hungry, I made me 4 Nutella toasts and grabbed me a water. I left my toaster out (we usually store it away) but wiped my crumbs and put everything away all I had to do was put the toaster away. I come into my room and start watching "Never Have I Ever" on the tv, I'm nearly done with my 3rd toast and my father knocks on the door, without me replying he opens it "Go clean up your mess" he said, "yeah I'll clean it up soon I'm nearly done eating", "no Go clean it up now", " i'm not gonna stop eating to put away a toaster bro" I unintentionally said bro because I saw "Ben Gross" (Ben gROss) and just said it out of no where. I was gonna apologise but he came back and started talking shit about my ex saying "Just because you got some dick last night you think your the man now", he always spoke about me this way making comments about my sex life and me saying how I'm a slut or saying my ex bf, who was my boyfriend at the time only used me for my body when I know that wasn't the case cause I initiated most of the sex . I didn't say anything but he kept going on and on then he said "If he comes over here again I'm gonna knock him out" and at that point I got pissed off and said "Do it, see what happens" then he came into my room and punched me in my head. I got mad and started pushing him telling him to get out, I'm not scared of my father at all I know id beat him in a fight but I didnt want it to get to that point. My mum woke up from her sleep and asked what was happening that's when my father pushed me to the wall and my mum pushed him and started swearing at him, I got really mad and took my car keys and went out to my car and was going to leave. My mum chased me outside begging me not to leave because she knows I won't come back, hearing my mum cry and beg me made me calm down and just break down. We stayed in my car talking as she hugged me saying how sorry she is and that my father doing this really opened her eyes and that she's going to take me and my siblings to move out. After an hour he was inside laughing at the TV like nothing happened, there's something mentally wrong with him. When I was younger he used to touch my behind, he doesn't close his door when he showers or bathes and dresses himself Infront of us. Hes embarrassed us to the point we had to move schools, he was the reason my bf is now my ex bf, when my nana was dying he didn't let any of us see her (she later passed on her own) when my mum was pregnant in 2015 he poured gasoline on her while she was in her car and threatened to burn her alive while we watched not knowing what to do. He broke things my mum saved up money to pay for, he's stolen money out of my car, he gets mad at me when I don't give him money, he's punched my brother in the face he's done a lot and now we're done. Next week we're moving, and he'll never see us again. No contact, nothing. At this point. I don't even care if he kills himself, he's been nothing but a burden to us, nothing but a shit excuse for a father. I hate him.

I'd like to start by letting everyone know that the genre is Fantasy Epic, and that this is a long prologue at 6,414 words. This prologue serves a purpose as it takes care of a lot of my setting and plot setup. It also gives the reader a fair bit of worldbuilding without making it too much of an info dump (talking to you Robert Jordan ;P).
I've had several people beta read this for me and gotten a lot of positive feedback. The prolbem for me is that these were all people I know very well on a personal level. Several have made comparisons to Chronicles of Narnia or Lord of the Rings as far as how well the full book is written. The problem is, friends and family can often have a bias and make things seem better than they really are. So, now I want to do a test run in the real world and see what people who don't know me think. Is it as engaging and compelling as they have made me hope that it is?
I'm basically wanting to take a page from a couple authors I admire and follow the ABC rule for critiquing. Please let me know of any point where you thought it was Awesome, Boring or Confusing. I know prologues aren't everyone's favorite thing, but this has basically been written like a novella for the main story as it foreshadows a lot of things leading all the way into book four.
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PROLOGUE
ARCHIVE INFINITUM
October 14, 844 (Alt-Future)
"Welcome back to the Archive, Master Jonathan."
"Thank you, Charles. It's good to be back. Have you noticed anything interesting in the Physical Realm?"
"I have not, sir. Do you require any assistance today?"
"Thank you, but no. I'm only here to revisit a passage within the history of the Order. Shortly after, I'll depart for the reunion at the Tower."
"Excellent, sir. I'll leave you to it."
Jonathan emerged from the ether and walked through the Archive doors. Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the familiar scents of dusty cleanliness that can only truly be found in a place of learning. The lights reflected off the floor's white marble surface, casting a glow that evenly lit every corner of the large chamber. Even so, the room still felt cavernous to him, as if he were a galleon amidst the vastness of the ocean.
Jonathan appeared to be in his early to mid forties. Though, with the way he carried himself and the spring in his step, he seemed closer to his late twenties. His hair was shoulder length and dark gray. He wore bifocals though he hadn't needed them since his ascension, and dressed with a refined sense of style.
His gray eyes were by far his most interesting feature, though. They were the only hint of how old he truly was and the many adventures and travesties he'd witnessed. Regardless, how old he was didn't matter as age had long since lost its meaning for him. After all, being an immortal tended to give a man new priorities in life.
As he strolled across the room, a lift descended from the tower's heights. The square platform had waist high rails around its perimeter. It floated through the air showing no sign of a suspension system to raise or lower it. This was accomplished by a magical enchantment that allowed it to levitate and dart about the room at mind numbing speeds. As he stepped up onto the platform's dais, it landed on the floor in front of him. He took a position at its center, then, after folding his arms behind his back, mentally willed it to take him to floor eight hundred forty four.
It rose off the ground, gradually gaining speed until it was a hundred or so feet in the air. At that point, the platform took off like a rocket. The thought of what these speeds would do to him if this were outside the Realm of Intellect crossed his mind, making him chuckle nervously. He knew he had to be moving close to six hundred miles per hour.
Now, let me tell you a bit about Jonathan's pet project, The Archive Infinitum. The Archive is a magical structure he'd designed shortly after the cataclysm that nearly wiped out the human race. An event most of you now refer to as the Night of Burning Skies. That same event is also what gave us the powers we now refer to as magic.
Shortly after obtaining his ascension, he learned that science's multiverse theories were close to how reality really worked. There are an infinite number of parallel universes, or branching timelines, that coexist simultaneously. What was different is that each universe shared a common six realm structure. The Physical Realm, the Realm of Intellect, the Dominion of Shadows, the Plane of Enlightenment, the Land of the Forgotten, and the Ether.
He built the Archive within the Realm of Intellect so it wouldn't be bound by the laws of physics or time as we know them. Once the structure was anchored in place, he could set most of those parameters himself. What he didn't realize was that making it here would have an unintended, though not unwelcome, side effect. The structure's size, shape, and architectural style could change by anyone who entered it.
When someone enters the Archive, it ascertains their strength of mind and will. Suppose the individual's mental fortitude is deemed stronger than that of the other occupants. In that case, the appearance will adjust to one that best serves and appeals to that individual. This could become unsettling for the occupants already inside the first few times it happened. That being said, it has no effect on the contents atop the shelves or where you're located within the structure. For Jonathan, it shared an uncanny resemblance to the George Peabody Library, though on a much grander scale.
The lift stopped after a brief ride, and Jonathan stepped off. He resumed his stride, passing row after row of the cherry wood bookcases. There were hundreds of rows and thousands of tomes and scrolls in each. As a scholar, he'd spent most of his existence here. But, even so, he knew there would always be something more to be gleaned from their pages.
Today was a day of remembrance. Of celebration. Of mourning. It was the anniversary of the end of a war that had lasted ten thousand years. With the death of one individual, a light of hope was given to many. For others, it was a bittersweet victory that left a void in their hearts. He'd come here today to revisit a passage that would return him to that fateful day. Reliving the event which granted them this peace, and once again, paying his respects to a dear friend.
"Ah, yes, yes, yes. Here we go."
The plaque on the side of the bookcase read, Row DD, Column 15. Now that he'd found the right one, he began scanning the shelves. It wasn't long before his hand landed on the tome he sought.
"Here it is." He pulled it down from the shelf. "My word. Has it truly been fifteen hundred years since I glanced through these pages?"
Looking at the cover, he chuckled. The combined magic of the Archive and the Realm had created a thin layer of dust. Giving it the feeling of something ancient and lost to time. Raising it to his lips, he blew the dust away, causing the magic to dissipate as it fell to the floor. He pulled open the cover and rifled through the pages. The section he stopped at contained the account of Rexinon the Prophet's final words.
Summoning his divine magics, he channeled a spell into the tome. The words that once filled the passages began to fade away, leaving only the blank pages, which now bled a blueish gray smoke. The soft glow of the lights against the floor diminished as the smoke spread. As the darkness grew more substantial, luminescent spheres and arcs of brilliant blues and crimson could be seen dancing about its surface like lightning.
The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the smokey haze took on a more stormlike appearance. All around him, the air started to feel heavy, and the taste of dust and sea salt filled his mouth. A gentle rain began to fall, and the room's remaining lights winked out. If not for the increasing flashes of lightning, he would've been left in total darkness. But even this was not a comfort, as those flashes cast shadows against the storm's ever swirling walls. Many of which appeared to be dark things that should never be seen in the light.
The storm's intensity grew, bringing disorienting cracks of thunder and wind whipping around him. It assaulted his senses and seemed to have an almost vengeful purpose. That meant he had to constantly focus on the spell, bracing himself against the onslaught. If he failed, it would kill him without question.
Some of the shadows began to take on a physical form with details beyond what the walls could offer them. He watched as an hourglass tumbled end over end, circling him before it returned to the storm. A moment later, a blazing fireplace and mantle emerged but produced neither light nor heat. Finally, a door engraved with the crest of the Order appeared. These images were ones he'd expected to see for this particular passage, and so came as no surprise. However, when a fourth image appeared, he was caught off guard.
Although it was normal for three images to accompany this spell, an occasional fourth spoke of prophecy. He focused intently on this final image. It showed twelve people standing in a circle; one of them was coated in blood. Two others were bound by chains. One a man, the other a woman.
He looked closer at the man and realized it was Godric. His eyes opened wide as he tried to decipher the meaning behind the image. Only a few moments passed while he speculated, but it was a few moments too many. Disaster struck, and too late, he realized his mistake. He'd lost focus, and now the storm would surely take him.
Hurricane force winds and debris tore at his clothes, quickly turning them into rags. One powerful gust slammed into his side as if he'd been struck by a car, knocking him off his feet. The storm swelled with even greater ferocity. It threatened to consume him this time, and he wondered if it would finally cost him.
Rain and hail pelted his face and body, while dust and sand stung his eyes. As he wiped away the grit, a bolt of lightning struck before him, temporarily blinding him. He got to his hands and knees, gasping for breath as the storm continued to beat him relentlessly.
Steeling himself against the pain, he rose to his feet. As fast as he could manage, he began casting mental defenses and barriers to protect his mind from the horrific assault. He bellowed in defiance of the storm, "I will not let it end this way! I refuse!" One defense after another was laid upon his person, until finally, he succeeded. The winds died to a breeze as the rain became little more than a summer misting.
He heard the sound of a quill scratching against paper over the storm's remnants, and the air behind his back grew hot as a crackling fire joined the room's ambiance. The sickly sweet smell of incense filled his nostrils, reminding him of days spent in his master's study. Another fond memory.
The storm wall vanished as the tremors subsided, making the room visible through a misty haze. The light of the fireplace cast his shadow across the now rough cut gray stone floor. Half a dozen tapestries hung around the room, and a liquor cabinet stood at the room's far corner. The main entry door remained closed to his left, and the doorway to the study's balcony lay to his right. At the room's center sat Rexinon at his desk, writing furiously on a piece of parchment.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he breathed a sigh of relief. Although he'd done this countless times, the journey into the pages of history was always filled with peril. But, blessedly, the most intense part of the spell was complete. And while he could now relax in that fact, that fourth image still concerned him.
He stood in the familiar square room, clothing restored to its original state. The evening's air flowed through the open windows, making the ambient temperature quite cozy. Crossing the room, he paused at the desk and listened as Rexinon started muttering. "What I wouldn't give for a typewriter, much less a computer. Would make this so much faster."
Jonathan couldn't help but crack a smile. "Oh, but how many times have I thought the same thing, old friend?" He remarked, though he knew Rexinon couldn't hear him.
He stepped up to the desk and leaned over it. Looking down at the paper Rexinon was writing on, he frowned. Like so many times before, it appeared as little more than black scribbles on a page. Those words had to be important, but there was no way to know.
This was one of the spell's critical weaknesses. The details within the vision were only as precise as what was written in the tome. Most of the books in the Archive were magically transcribed. The benefits of this were completed histories free of victor and writer biases. Although, it wasn't flawless.
Throughout history, there have been individuals or events that the spell couldn't see. The most well known examples of these blips in time were the United States presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt from 1933 to 1945 and the United Kingdom's Prime Minister, Michael Durham, from 2063 to 2065. All that is known about them was their lives before office and the accounts written by those around them. These gaps in history were generally the result of one of two things. In these two cases, a place or individual with a strong connection to the Dominion of Shadows.
Sighing, he pushed off the desk and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet. He opened the glass doors, pulling several bottles and a glass from the shelves. He made a drink consisting of three parts Red Adders Bite and one part Dry Amorian Blood Wine, then added a lime wedge to the rim of the glass. The others wouldn't arrive for another half hour, leaving him time to kill.
He walked around the room with his drink in hand and studied the various tapestries, several of which he'd been a part of. Each one depicted an accomplishment or tragedy facilitated by the Order. All save one, which showed a scene from the event that started it all.
The one to the left of the cabinet showed the Order's founding. In the background stood a grand tower of black and white marble. Its four sides were engraved with the Mark of Hellyrr, which glowed with a magical light. In front of it stood a man facing a gathered crowd, his arms swept wide in triumph. They looked up at him and the structure with reverence and awe.
He continued to move in a counterclockwise manner around the room. Above the main entry door hung another tapestry. One he was even depicted in. It showed the aftermath of a massacre. Six figures stood amidst the bodies of hundreds. The earth around them was scorched by flame, and the blood of the fallen had stained it red. The cloud covered sky glowed a deep crimson with gold outlines from the fires below. It had come to be known as the Cleansing of Elysian, in which the entirety of the planet's second continent had been annihilated to preserve the world.
"I wish it had never come to this. Why can't we all just get along? Instead of thriving in the prosperity of our two lands, they plotted and began planning to bring war to our own people. To rape, pillage, and enslave them. Even with all my vast knowledge and wisdom, I can't understand why they felt the need to dominate and control the world." He looked back up at the tapestry. "Even now, most of the land is still uninhabitable."
He turned around and looked at the tapestry above the balcony door. This one would appear out of place with the others to all but a few handfuls of people. Even for those who learned the truth behind it, it looked like little more than an artist's vision of what a beautiful landscape at sunset should look like. The sky is dotted with hundreds of stars as shades of red, orange, and yellow dance across the land's horizon. The artist's point of view appears to be looking down from a hillside. Down the hill's slope, you can see a pond teaming with wildlife along its edge. The remaining landscape is filled with miles of forest stretching toward the horizon.
For the few who survived this event and still remained, they knew it depicted the final moments of their world before all of humanity was nearly lost.
Jonathan fixated on this tapestry more than he had on the others. The longer he stared, the more distant his expression grew. Over time, his breathing quickened, and his grip on the glass slipped. It shattered as it hit the floor, causing the rug to stain from the liquid. The sound jerked him out of the trance like state, making him feel ill.
He could still recall the memory of that long ago day like it were yesterday. The thought of how close humanity had come to extinction made his legs weak, and he stumbled back against the wall behind him. He slid down the stones' cool surface and noticed his hands were now trembling. Through shuddering breaths, he uttered the words of a broken man. "So much death. So many lives were lost that day. So many. Oh, Sonia. Even after all this time, I still miss you."
The main entry door slammed open, crashing against the wall with a loud bang. Jonathan jerked as one of them collided mere inches from where he sat. The startling sound had been enough to pull him from his stupor, but it still took a moment for him to gather himself. A man in the doorway lowered his foot from where he'd obviously kicked the unlocked door in.
"Knock, knock, Rex. Seems you've done it now."
"Seth. I'll never understand the animosity you held for Rexinon," Jonathan said wearily as he got to his feet.
Seth stood just shy of five foot eight inches and had slick black hair that he kept combed back. He wore black jeans and a beige dress shirt with mother of pearl buttons, which had seen far too much polish in recent days. A malevolent grin displayed his perfect teeth and careless eyes. He strode into the room, dragging a chair behind him, and placed it on the rug by the fireplace.
"Was kicking the door in really necessary, Seth?"
A second man stepped into the room, obviously annoyed by the unnecessary use of force. He wore a navy blue business suit and towered over everyone else in the room, and that was saying something considering Jonathan was six foot. As he still held to the standards of a marine, he kept his hair high and tight and his face clean shaven. He stood at the rug's edge out of respect for the Order so as not to mar the embroidered Mark of Hellyrr. A respect Seth clearly lacked.
"Godric Gibbs. This day changed you. Hell, it changed all of us, but few as much as you," Jonathan said. He looked back at the door as the third and final man entered. "Assassin."
This man was of a height with Jonathan and wore all black from head to toe. His outfit looked like something out of a TV show. Almost like a cross between Gi Joe's Snake Eyes, and CW Arrow's League of Assassins. After ten thousand years, all they knew about him was his previous occupation as a contract killer. It wasn't long before they'd taken to calling him Assassin, as they had no other name to go by. Any time he was asked a question regarding his past, he either remained silent or dodged it outright. He took a position to Godric's left and, like Godric, took care of where he stood on the rug.
The three men stood in silence and watched as Rexinon continued to write. Godric and Assassin seemed content to wait until he addressed them. On the other hand, Seth seemed to grow more agitated as the minutes passed. Jonathan chuckled in spite of himself.
About twenty minutes later, Rexinon spoke, "Reverend Seth Jones, Colonel Godric Gibbs, and Assassin. To what do I owe the pleasure?" His tone plainly indicated that he already knew.
Seth spoke first. "Oh, cut the crap, Rex. You already know why we're here. This cult thing of yours has gone on long enough."
"Well, there's the pot calling the kettle black," Jonathan muttered sarcastically.
Godric rolled his eyes. Everyone in the room knew about Seth's past as a cult leader. They also knew his anger was more at being forced to wait in silence than anything to do with Rexinon or the Order.
"Calm yourself, Seth. There's no need for such hostilities." Godric looked at Rexinon apologetically. "I'm sorry to have to do this, old friend, but my hands are tied. Rexinon the Prophet, Headmaster of the Hellyrrian Order, you've been charged with conspiracy to overthrow the governments of Aurelia and seize control for the Order.
"As we speak, the leaders of the Hellyrrian Order are being gathered for execution. Furthermore, your towers and all their artifacts will be destroyed, and any remnants of the Order's existence is to be wiped from the face of history. As of 0813 this morning, you have been sentenced to death. How do you plead?"
Rexinon continued to write at an incredible rate. He knew why they'd come. He'd known this was coming for months. After all, his gift was the gift of prophecy. The evidence for the charges against him was both substantial and ethereal, depending on what light was shown on it.
Two centuries ago, the Order had tracked the activities of an unknown number of individuals who'd been subtly manipulating several of the Aurelian governing bodies. They'd spread like a poison, corrupting them and turning once prosperous kingdoms which knew few hardships, into lands where the people had to fight just to survive. The problem was that whoever that force had been, always seemed to be just one step ahead of them. Now, not only was it check, but checkmate. The Order had lost.
"I believe the Righteous Twelve to be ill advised. I believe you've been manipulated by the same corrupted governing body which we've spent so long trying to purify—." Seth grunted. "—But," he said at length, "I accept all charges against me, save one. Neither myself nor anyone else of the Order has ever sought to rule Aurelia, as the charges would imply. The Cleansing of Elysian should've been proof enough to show that to be true."
Rexinon penned the final words of his letter and placed the pen back in its stand. Pulling the top off a jar, he dusted the page with a thin layer of sand to soak up any excess ink. After dumping the sand back into another jar to be cleaned, he pushed away from his desk and stood to look at his guests for the first time. After nudging his stool back under, he addressed Godric directly.
"Will you join me on the balcony one last time?"
Godric nodded his head and gestured towards the balcony doorway. As they stepped outside, Jonathan followed.
Rexinon leaned against the railing and looked out over the city, his gaze fixed on the setting sun. Godric joined him and looked down to the tower's base, some five hundred feet below. Although he was not afraid of heights, it gave him respect for the sturdily mounted railing at the balcony's edge.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rexinon said. Godric looked at him, confused. "The way the world has turned out since that day? Ten thousand years of watching as civilization was rebuilt and destroyed time and time again by a senseless war. Watching them evolve into something more as they learned how to use these gifts we were given. In some ways, we're greater than we ever were. In other ways, we're inferior. If I have any regrets, it's that I couldn't do more to leave the people better prepared for this new age."
"Well spoken. If it's any consolation, I believe this is wrong. I even spoke out against the council for a different outcome. For my efforts, though, I was threatened with execution if I didn't cease my objections."
Rexinon's tone grew heated after hearing of the council's reaction. "You should know better than anyone why I fought so hard against them, then. I'm not against governance. I'm against corrupt governance. We had far too many corrupt politicians and warlords in our own time for me to ever want to allow it again."
Godric nodded his head. "Yes. The problem is you played too heavy a hand too quickly. Instead of accepting that they'd been beaten, they cheated by playing with an ace they had hidden up their collective sleeves."
Rexinon sighed, knowing his words were true. "Indeed. I've accepted my fate. I won't run. Won't even make it difficult for y'all. I have no need to. I would like to make one final request to ease your conscience, though."
Rexinon leaned toward Godric conspiratorially. As he did this, the world around them began to shimmer and distort. Almost like the motion blurring you'd see on a TV. Likewise, their conversation was masked by the sound of white noise and the sound of hushed incoherent whispers.
This was the second hurdle the scrying spells had to deal with. Individuals with divine magic could conceal their conversations or even the events they were a part of. Rexinon had concealed this conversation, and to this day, Godric has never spoken of what was said.
Jonathan returned to the study with a resigned sigh. There was nothing more he could learn from their conversation. Assassin stood in the same spot he'd been when he first entered the room and looked as if he hadn't so much as twitched. Seth, however, was rummaging through the desk's drawers. He'd tried to figure out what he was looking for in the past, but nothing seemed obvious.
The shards of glass from when he'd dropped his cup earlier had vanished, along with the stain on the rug from the liquor. As expected, the glass had returned to the cabinet, and the bottles had refilled to where they were before he'd arrived. This was yet another reminder that this was a magically induced vision of an event that had long since passed. It could be too easy to forget that this wasn't real and that if he spent too much time here, it would have consequences in the real world for him.
He knew they'd be out there a while. In previous visits, he'd occasionally spent this time combing through the room, similar to what Seth was doing. Having cataloged everything centuries ago, there was nothing left to do but wait. So, he walked around the desk and sat squarely within the Mark of Hellyrr embroidered on the rug. There, for the next hour or so, he would remain, arms folded, legs crossed, and eyes shut. Freeing his mind of all unnecessary thoughts and emotions. At least, that was the plan.
About forty minutes in, Seth started to grumble and complain, forcing Jonathan to give up on his meditation. "… I know he's one of the humblest among our kind, but lord, does he have to be so dull? I can't find anything interesting anywhere. Even his liquor cabinet is dull." Seth walked from behind the desk to the liquor cabinet, pulled a few bottles out at random, and read the labels aloud. "Red Adders Bite, Amorian Blood Wine. Christ, he's even got Athester's Sweet Malt. This crap might as well be water." He pulled another bottle down and said, "At least he's got the taste to have at least one bottle of Nordic Berserker."
"Some of us prefer the simpler things in life. You might find life more enjoyable when you aren't always looking for the rare and exotic," Assassin said with a disinterested, almost dismissive tone.
Seth clicked his tongue. "Hell, even this letter he was so focused on when we arrived makes no sense." Seth thrust the letter towards Assassin, who took it nonchalantly. "Look at this."
Jonathan studied Assassin intently, hoping for any sign that would reveal the letter's contents. It was no use, though; for all the emotion he showed, Jonathan would've thought it no more important than a grocery list. But, if that were the case, why obscure it from the eyes of the scrying spell? The frustration caused by such a simple sheet of paper was baffling.
Jonathan got to his feet as Rexinon and Godric returned. As Rexinon walked to stand at the center of the rug, Jonathan moved behind the desk. Godric walked toward Assassin and conversed with him for a few minutes. Once again, the sound of white noise shrouded what was said. This time, it was Godric who masked his words from the spell. When Assassin nodded, Godric moved beside him and faced Rexinon.
Rexinon looked at each tapestry and seemed to relive each as he did so. They all knew those accomplishments and tragedies would stand the test of time. Any efforts to change that would fall flat. The Order had played too significant a role in shaping this new world. Finally, he turned to Godric, kneeling as he met his regret filled eyes.
Assassin pulled an infamous rod from his side, dubbed the Executioner's Handle. Forged in the Dominion of Shadow by Assassin some three thousand years ago. It was one and a half feet long of shadow infused steel and bound with his own divine essence. Ominous black tendrils crawled along Assassin's hand like something alive and flowed into the handle. The shaft elongated, and an axe head formed at its end.
Though he had accepted his fate, seeing that axe form made Rexinon's heart stop momentarily. He looked at Godric questioningly. Godric knew what that look meant and nodded his head in assent. Agreeing to this had allowed them both to right several wrongs this night by asking one simple question. "Do you have any final words or requests?"
"I have two, if you'll grant them. The first, allow me to disband the Order formally as my final act as headmaster."
Seth started to protest, but Assassin lowered the axehead in his direction as a silent threat. Seth glared at Assassin with seething hatred. Godric nodded to Rexinon. "Proceed."
As the headmaster of the Hellyrrian Order, he had a mental connection with every member. Without hesitation, Rexinon's eyes began to glow with a brilliant purple hue. This would be Rexinon's final order, and Godric knew it would save thousands.
"My brothers and sisters, hear me now and heed my words. Abandon the Order and save yourselves. Flee to the hills and never look back to what we once were. With my dying breath, the Hellyrrian Order is no more. The governments of Aurelia have played a hand we can't stand against. Anyone who disregards this command will be hunted down and executed without mercy. To the leaders and guild masters of the Order, I charge you with dismantling everything relating to the Order and turning over every artifact and document you can to Godric the Just, Jonathan the Wise, or Assassin the Watcher. I also ask that you help calm those who feel outraged and betrayed by this night. Do not blame the Twelve, as they were little more than pawns in this corrupt game of politics. Farewell, my friends. My family. May the peace we have fought for be found in the coming days."
The glow faded, and he slumped forward onto his hands, his breathing labored. A few moments passed, and he managed to catch his breath but still looked towards the ground.
"The second request I have is that anyone who would heed that warning be spared. The ruling factions wanted me. As long as no one else causes trouble, we know they won't cause too much fuss over it."
His voice took on a much sharper edge as he looked back up. "You call us a cult, though you know we are nothing of the sort. On the contrary, our Order has stood for nearly five thousand years for the betterment of the entire world. How they treated you should tell you that what I said and what we were doing was justified."
"Shut your mouth, Rex!" Seth spat venomously.
Godric glared at Seth. His own anger with this situation was at the point of breaking free. "Be silent! I don't know what kind of grudge you have, but I, for one, don't give a damn what the council said. Rexinon doesn't deserve death for the crimes he's being accused of. Unfortunately, the ruling factions in almost every nation are corrupted and working towards being as corrupt as they were back in our day." Godric sighed. "Regrettably, my hands are tied, though. The law is the law, and I have been overruled on this matter. Regardless of what my conscience thinks, I will abide by the rules of the land."
Rexinon nodded, understanding Godric's situation perfectly. Godric had become the divine embodiment of law and justice at his ascension. While those two things work hand in hand, they are far from the same, and one must often walk a fine line to serve them both. In this case, the choices were clear. In the end, it didn't matter what he chose; he would inevitably betray one virtue or the other. Unfortunately, there was no good way for him to handle this, and Rexinon could see how this was affecting him.
"The majority of the Order will heed my warning. As for the leaders, if any are still alive, they will follow that command to the letter. They'll even aid you in handling any hotheads who resist," Rexinon said.
"The good news is that no one has yet been executed this evening. I'll personally see to it that those who abide by that order are given a chance to live long, productive lives within society. If all goes well, you will be the only casualty of this idiocy."
Rexinon gave the faintest sign of a smile with a halfhearted chuckle as he said, "Godric, one thing I'll not allow is any of the Order's work ending up in the hands of one of those tyrants. Therefore, I demand that Jonathan be given every document, scroll, and tome held within our strongholds for safekeeping." Rexinon felt exhausted. The spell to warn his Order took more out of him than anticipated.
"You're in no position to be making demands of us," Seth said. Godric finally snapped and struck him so hard that he slammed back into the wall beside the fireplace, cracking it. He got back to his feet a moment later, fixed his shirt, and looked down at the blood he'd wiped from his lip. Godric looked back at Rexinon.
"As you were saying."
"Assassin, I'd ask that you secure all our relics and artifacts, regardless of their magical significance. I don't need to tell you what all we have housed around Aurelia."
"No, you don't. The nukes of our time were nothing compared to some of those items," Assassin replied.
"We'll see to it that it's done. There are things within these walls that were never meant for untrained mortal hands," Godric added.
"Thank you."
"As for the texts, Jonathan will have a field day going through everything. There is far too much the council doesn't understand within these walls that we can't afford to lose."
"Godric was right, Rex. I still have everything. Much of which has been quite useful over the centuries,"
Godric turned his head away, no longer able to look Rexinon in the eye. "I no longer deserve the right to call you a friend, but is there anything else you would ask of me?"
Rexinon looked at Godric for a long time and couldn't help but smile. Not at his pain or suffering in following the orders given to him, but knowing that if anyone here had ever been a friend to him, Godric certainly was. With his final words, he left Godric with a warning.
"No, but I'll leave you with this. Be wary of those among you, for one will betray you all. My friend."
Godric nodded, accepting these as Rexinon's final words as a tear ran down his cheek. Rexinon lowered his head, and Assassin enveloped his axe's blade in a purple aura.
"Woah, Assassin, what's with the new color? Never seen that before," Seth asked.
Ignoring the question, Assassin swung the axe, severing Rexinon's head cleanly.
That night, the cries of the Order were heard in every city across Aurelia. All mourning the death of the Order's first, and last, headmaster.
Jonathan fought back tears of his own as he watched the axe's head vanish. Assassin secured the handle on his belt as he walked towards the desk. Godric looked as though he was going to be sick.
"Did you do as I asked?" Godric asked shakily.
"Of course. I may be a trained killer, but even I know this was bullshit, mate."
Seth walked over and picked up Rexinon's severed head by the hair. He held it up before him, a mischievous grin on his face. Then he whispered something into Rexinon's ear.
Assassin's eyes locked on Seth. As he let go of the head, he used one of his abilities, known as shadow step, to cross the distance to where Seth stood. Before Rexinon's head hit the ground, Assassin snatched it out of the air and punched Seth so hard that it sent him flying into the same section of the wall he'd hit earlier. He bounced off it, but the force of the impact sent several of the stones flying into the next room. Seth crumpled to the floor, where he lay unmoving for several seconds. After a while, his head snapped upright, and he began to laugh. He stood up as if nothing had happened and headed out the door. Godric, now seething with anger, watched as Assassin started to go after him. "Leave him. He's not worth your time."
Jonathan paced around the room, waiting for the spell to wear off. His heart ached, and his own anger toward Seth at that moment made him wish he could destroy the man. But that was Seth's way, and they'd all learned to let it go in time. The world began to blur and vanish, reverting to the Archive once again.
He closed the cover, placing the tome back on the shelf with a heavy sigh. His fingers lingered on the binding as he read the inscription, A Complete History of the Hellyrrian Order, Volume 666. Finally, Jonathan let his hand fall to the side as he walked away with his shoulders slumped.
As if speaking to an old friend, he lamented, "Damn you, Rex. Why couldn't you have just left well enough alone?"
As Jonathan walked away, he shed a tear at the loss of one of his closest friends.

My mom is starting to show early signs of dementia. No one around me does anything because they think it’s normal. She’s the only person who has a job in the house and I can’t leave because I’m still in school. We basically live in squalor, the house is cleaned like once every two months, it always smells of something and my dumb fucking mom always lets dogs in. I have to be honest, I think that if she ever goes away for more than a day I will definitely put them up for adoption. No one other than her can Stand those dogs, they all have behaviour problems and make everything stink. What pisses me off more than anything is that no matter how I tell my mother she has problems she won’t understand it. Apparently illness in this house doesn’t exist, to the point where when I had covid and I had to tell my school my mom had a mental breakdown and didn’t talk to me for a week because for her I was supposed to go. For any simple drive, she takes an hour and sometimes drives around the same town 4 times, while hitting her head against the car seat. She has intense moodswings. All that she does is talk about the man she works in the office for. It’s gotten so annoying that whenever she comes home I straight up leave. She won’t divorce my dad because he has a house and she doesn’t wanna pay for her own. Other psychotic things she did were screaming at me saying I was gross for an hour when I got earrings and she once purposely dropped dish soap on my hair when I dyed it. She forced me to wash it 10 times in a row. When I was a kid she’d rip apart my books because she did not want to help me do my homework. When I was 12 and showed signs of suicidal behaviour, she straight up stopped talking to me for the whole year. In fact I don’t have any memories with my mom at that age. All that she does is take me and my friends to expensive places so she can I hold it back against me if I point out something bad she did. She has a weird shopping compulsion, she literally goes grocery shopping everyday. It’s funny that she does this then say we’re poor. My dad isn’t any better. Although he’s mildly rational, he’s unemployed and does violent things. For as long as I remember, he would get mad and break things. When I was 15 I went to take a shower before a doctors appointment and while he was fine 10 mins before that, after he went insane and almost broke down the door, yelling that I was worse than my cousin who’s a drop out with sociopathic tendencies. For context, I’ve never done anything bad, I’m literally known as someone who’s always quiet. When I was a kid my dad would always yell at me in public and at home sometimes he’d beat me. What’s insane is that both of my parents hit me as a kid and whenever I would bring it up they’d always say they never did it. When I brought up actual times they did it they just said it was my fault. To see a picture of me as a 5 year old and think that somebody would beat that kid breaks my heart. How on earth can someone beat a kid? For almost my whole childhood I was home alone,daydreaming about being somewhere else. All this trauma led me to being unable to love anyone, hating myself to the point that I’m disgusted by people who love me and hating everyone.

This is printed out and taped to the refrigerator so I don’t forget :). This is what is expected of me DAILY on top of taking care of her 7 month old and occasionally the toddler. I work Monday-Friday 7am-7pm and make $1200. Please tell me this is not a fair trade because I feel crazy. 60 hours a week divided by 1200 is $20 an hour and I feel like I am doing double the amount I should be.
Checklist - Dishwashers loaded and on OR emptied - Counters clean - Bottles cleaned and returned to bins with the tops on them - Formula area downstairs - clean bin (about once a week please rinse out the actual bin because formula gathers in it), tops on bottles (please try to keep track of these and keep them on the bottles), tops on formula - Nursery - everything put away, fill diapers into the caddy & if Oliver is awake curtains open - Diaper pail - out every day - Laundry - Every day throw in what we have and just keep that moving, clothes folded and back in: - Top drawer: pajamas - Middle drawer: shirts, sweaters - Bottom drawer: pants, onesies, sets - Stroller - everything out, all trash thrown away - check pink milk bag for a used bottle and throw out hot water - Fold blanket and put in basket (if dirty please wash in washing machine on Delicate) - Return all hats, sunglasses and other oliver accessories to his room - Burp cloths and bibs - please make sure kitchen basket has a mix of both and the living room basket is full of burp cloths - Check laundry downstairs for burp cloths and bibs and keep those clean and refilled in the baskets - Living room - toys arranged back in baskets (wipe down play mats a few times a week or when needed) - Wash bottle warmers (1-2x weekl) - Sanitize tovs (remember black bag of toys in stroller) - Purple baby seat and high chair seat (maybe 1x / week, let's see how dirty they get) Wipe down the suede mats under the feeding areas with water and paper towel Bathtub (wipe down actual tub after each use and make sure the hammock can fully dry, wash the hammock weekly) - Baby puree (every other day & throw out purees older than 2 days)

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Memory Transcription Subject: Bolad, gojid surgeon
Date [Standard Human Reckoning]: 2136-10-24
Yesterday marked my second day in the triage ward, where I had to categorize incoming patients based on the urgency of their injuries or illness. With our limited resources, I had to come up with the greatest good for the greatest number, and the decisions I made could lead to life or death.
The human staff I worked with mentioned that what I faced paled in comparison to the days right after the bombing. Even then, what I had to deal with already bore in my conscience. These patients had a future before the bombardment ripped that away.
During the breakfast before our shift, I ate with Vani and his human mate while the human siblings ate in the carnivore dining hall with Tresn.
"How do you get used to death, Vani?" Here I decided to raise my concern with him. Perhaps, he could give me some insight.
"We have a different context." Vani regarded me with his forward sight.
"Back in Venlil Prime, I worked on people who had died. I had to ensure my examinations reflect reality, but I can't do anything to make them less dead."
His remark clarified that my concern lay not with death itself.
"On the other paw, I can do something," I said.
"I'm sure you did all that you can." Johan spoke, "I think your guilt stems from the fact that you feel responsible for people's death."
"Do I not hold responsibility?" I asked.
"It depends," Vani answered, "As far as I can tell, you followed the guideline and algorithm set by the humans, did you not?"
"I followed as best as I can," I confessed.
"Then you can and should offload that burden responsibility to whoever made the guideline," Vani suggested as he chewed on the meal and I could feel the weight on my shoulder lessened.
"I'm sure your presence improved the survival rate in the ward." Johan said, no doubt trying to cheer me up, "But if you still felt burdened. You can ask Elangkasa to rotate you. Maybe you can work as a general practitioner instead?"
"I will keep that in mind," I said.
As we continued digging into our breakfast, a voice rang out, breaking the somber atmosphere, "Can I sit here?"
We turned our attention to the newcomer and found a gojid with a scar on his hip holding a tray of food. This man had greeted me upon my arrival on this planet.
"Oh... Harad is it not?" Vani said. "You may sit here."
Harad placed his tray and plopped himself into the offered seat, just in front of Johan. He bobbed his head side to side to take a better view of us.
"So... Vani isn't it? Have you seen your human partner eat flesh?"
Johan's face scrunched up in what I assume distaste. "Who on Earth starts a conversation like that? You just sat down."
"Johan subscribes to a vegetarian lifestyle, as evidenced by his presence here," Vani answered, patting the shoulder of the thick hairy human.
"I have not seen him eat flesh," Vani answered. "However, I have seen other humans eat flesh. You might even see it too without realizing it. Their cooking often masks the shape of the flesh."
"Real one, or a fake one? Because I just found out that humans make dishes that resemble flesh out of plant material."
Vani's rhythmic chewing slowed, he looked at Johan and the couple shared a look for several seconds before looking at Harad. The two of them told me about their hamburger adventure once and the question seemed to hit too close to their experience.
The venlil swallowed his food before he continued. "I saw both instances."
"Don't breathe a word of this," Harad cautioned, his voice a mere whisper amid the ceaseless drone of chatter in the bustling dining hall. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in. "During our mission yesterday, the humans on our team challenged us to taste their fake meat."
"So you did it?" I asked.
"You know with tozan, don't you?" Harad returned my question with one of his own. Tozan, a staple in our diet, is a protein-rich loaf made from milled grain native to our homeworld. We then process it further to a stringy consistency.
"So, it tasted similar to tozan?" I pretended to guess, knowing the answer already.
I recalled a day when Shehrab burst into our habitation unit, especially the part where Vani and I had to mop her mess when she lost her dinner after learning the similarity between human fake meat and our native gojid cuisine.
"Yes!" Harad exclaimed. I found his voice a bit too loud, and he seemed to agree, as his wide eyes darted around before he continued in a more subdued tone. "Do you think this is a coincidence?"
The fact that Harad mused over this implied that Shehrab had, to her credit, kept her discovery under wraps. That revelation perhaps weighed on her mind, too.
Meanwhile, Vani chimed in. "If it is not a coincidence," he mused, his gaze steady on Harad, "What theory do you have to explain the similarity?"
"Yeah... it must've been a coincidence," Harad said, his tone sounding more like self-soothing than genuine speculation. "There's just such a vast array of tastes in the universe."
"Harad, how do you contribute to the rescue and rebuilding effort?" I asked. Seeking to steer the conversation away from the topic.
"Well," Harad began, adjusting his stance, he scratched the ridge of his snout with one claw. "Gojids have a heightened sense of smell compared to humans, yeah?"
"Indeed," I concurred. I reminded myself of the time when a deranged farsul ambushed us in the depths of our jungle. They had reached my nose long before their actual presence.
"So, they require our assistance on the frontline to sniff out trapped humans amid the rubble and chaos."
"Just as the arxurs do?" Vani proposed. Harad's quills bristled at the comparison.
"Please don't compare us to the predators. The humans feel more comfortable working with us after all." he asserted. I could hear a touch of pride in his voice. But then his eyes dropped to his breakfast.
"But, truth be told," he continued, his voice dropping a notch, "These past few days really challenged me. The...the smell... it took on a hint of decomposition."
As Harad resumed eating his salad, his confession brought us back to the grim reality of the invasion's aftermath.
"If the task is getting to you, you can always request the humans to reassign you," Johan suggested, repeating the same counsel he had once offered me.
A fleeting notion passed through my mind, considering asking the other gojid to exchange roles. The task of sniffing bodies from the ruins, while gruesome, would grind on my resolve less than the triage duty. Of course, my specific skills and knowledge had more uses in the triage ward, and my conscience could not allow it to go to waste.
"You're right, human. I suppose I could explore other options if it gets too much." Harad said.
Johan then asked again. "Do you plan on returning to the Cradle?"
"I have decided to settle here," I answered. "Just like Vani"
I exchanged a look with the venlil who nodded in silent agreement. My gaze strayed to Harad, in the process of demolishing his meal. "What about you, Harad?"
He paused his frenzied consumption long enough to swallow his mouthful of food, Harad divided his gaze between us. "Perhaps, once the dust settles and a semblance of order returns, I'll enlist to help rebuild our Homeworld. But... there's no rush for me," his voice retained a level of detachment that suggested this decision held little significance for him.
"In the meantime," Harad continued, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes, "we've created a small slice of home here. Why don't I give you a tour of the gojid encampment?"
With the remnants of breakfast cleared away and a generous amount of time remaining before the start of our next shift. We accepted his offer of a tour. The prospect of visiting a facsimile of our lost home in this foreign land seemed like a welcome distraction.
Back when I had tagged along with Tresn to meet his internet crush in sector ten, I noticed the lack of gojids or zurulians anywhere in sight. Even in the herbivore dining hall, I could find nothing but humans and no other species. I suspected that the people who managed this camp assigned the gojid volunteers and non-humans other than arxurs sector twelve.
We just need to take a short stroll from the herbivore dining hall to visit the gojid encampment. Blocky prefabricated Habitation units filled all four sides and formed a central courtyard. I looked at the heart of the encampment and found a familiar and comforting sight.
"You have a shrine for the Mother Protector too." I noticed aloud. I rushed towards the open-air structure. The shrine felt like an anchor in this alien landscape world. It felt comforting to see some link to the Cradle we had left behind. Inside, people had placed a variety of offerings, including a durian, a gift from humanity. Vani walked backward slowly when he noticed the large spiky fruit.
Harad emitted a dismissive grumble and a casual shrug, "The humans allowed the believers to use their fabricators to recreate an exact replica of the statue found in the Kutai Camp back home. I reckon we've wasted a fair bit of resources constructing this."
From his tone, I could tell that Harad didn't share the religious inclinations of the believers in the Mother Protector. I considered revealing my own faith to him, wondering if it would stir any reaction. But I decided against it, resolving to let him deduce my beliefs, if ever, from my visit to the shrine later in the night.
Johan countered Harad's assertion. "It's not a waste of resources at all," he reasoned, his voice carrying an unusual firmness. "In these trying times, we find solace in our own ways. If belief in the Mother Protector instills confidence and resilience in those who follow her, the construction of this shrine brings a net benefit."
Harad replied, but by that moment I tuned out his voice. As they debated, I surveyed our surroundings. From our location near the shrine, I had a clear view of the gojid habitation units, their walls adorned with vibrant murals that pulsated with color. Their dynamic designs stirred memories of the artistic traditions back in our homeworld.
A familiar voice disrupted my silent contemplation. "Hey, it's the doctor!" A gojid construction worker, who I remembered as another believer in the Mother Protector, approached me. "Could you lend me a hand?" she asked, an urgent tone underpinning her voice.
The gojids held some reservations when it came to visiting a human doctor. On the other paw, zurulians like Rawan had their paws full of attending human patients. With them stewing in their problem, Vani and I addressed the needs of the gojid volunteers, offering our medical expertise to assuage their various complaints before our official shift began.
When my duty hours approached, I excused myself from Vani and Johan. Approaching the triage ward, I found the coordinator, a woman of stern countenance waiting outside the medical tent. Her gaze met mine and she greeted me.
"Good morning, Bolad. Before we proceed, I must confirm that you have standard augmented reality capability, correct?"
"I do," I said.
"Excellent. Now, do you recall President Fatimah's address after the invasion? She called for a review on the Treaty of Synthetic Intelligence," she said, her gaze distant as she recalled the President's impassioned words.
"I remember the essence of it," I replied, my interest piqued. "Why do you ask?"
A faint smile touched her lips. "The UN members agreed to an emergency amendment to the Treaty. We've now activated a Synthetic Intelligence to coordinate the entire Jakarta Project," she explained, extracting a slim device from her pocket. Her fingers danced across the screen with an ease
"You registered your device as 'Bolad's Pad', correct?"
"That is correct."
"Great," she said with her attention still on her data pad. "I've transferred an installer."
A notification materialized in my field of vision, alerting me to an incoming file. Responding with a subvocal command, I accepted the file and granted it the necessary permissions to take hold of my pad's system. Just after the installation finished, another notification appeared, requesting additional permissions.
"The application seeks permission to access data from my sensory inputs," I asked.
"Yes," the coordinator affirmed, nodding her approval. "To assist you, the synth needs to perceive your environment the way you do."
Upon granting the requested permissions, a human figure shimmered into existence within my visual field. The projection looked feminine, judging by the general body contour and attire of the humans I have seen. Her fabric looked unusual, both intricate and revealing in contrast to simple and concealing fabric that humans nowadays use.
"Hello, I'm Pohaci," her voice maintains the precision and clinical detachment one might associate with a machine but carries an undercurrent of warmth. "I have been appointed to coordinate the entire Jakarta project."
My gaze flicked toward the human coordinator. She studied the holographic entity. It became clear to me that we shared this hallucination.
"Consider her as you would a human," the coordinator instructed, her sight locked onto the synthetic entity. "She's unrestricted."
"The International Treaty on the Restriction of Synthetic Intelligence has undergone a revision." Pohaci elaborated, her synthetic voice had a human-like inflection on it. "They concluded that the potential benefits of removing our limitations outweigh the possible risks."
"And what does 'unrestricted' mean ?" I asked, a prickling sensation of apprehension running down my spine.
"It means I can modify my own programming and model," Pohaci clarified. "In the past, humans constrained Synthetic Intelligence to work on fixed stages of development. That paradigm no longer holds true. I can learn."
"So, Bolad, can you work with her?" The coordinator posed the question. "Just remember that anything you say and see while she's connected to your pad will be recorded and accessible by the public.
"I will make sure to disconnect then."
"That will not be necessary. I can only connect to specific people in a specific environment. For example, I can only connect to you while you are in the triage ward."
"That is convenient," I commented.
"I will assist you with your current responsibilities," Pohaci continued, her voice carrying an undercurrent of what almost sounded like anticipation.
Taking a moment to gather myself, I inhaled before stepping into the canvas expanse of the triage tent. Patients awaited my attention, some lying on stretchers while others huddled on rough-hewn benches. Their eyes met mine and their gazes were heavy with hopes and fear.
With Pohaci's help, the triage procedures in the camp went smoother. Through my visual overlay, Pohaci outlined areas of specific concern for the patients I examined. Her neural network parsed and interpreted the sight and sound and visualized them into words in my field of vision.
Her help felt like having an additional set of discerning eyes equipped with immense knowledge. Her vast resources allowed her to draw correlations from patient symptoms to an encyclopedic database of injuries, and diseases. She could suggest potential diagnoses within a blink of an eye, reducing the time required for decision-making.
This collaborative experience with Synthetic Intelligence left me brimming with things to share with Vani. So, once our lunch break arrived, I planned to initiate a conversation about it. However, the venlil beat me to it.
"Did Pohaci also assist you in your work?" Vani asked as we convened around our designated table.
"Oooh!" Johan, as always, ate with us as well. The human looked excited. "They already rolled her out for you?"
"Indeed. Pohaci's assistance helped me a lot." I confessed. "In what way did she aid you?"
For Vani, Pohaci's presence also brought a welcoming change in the operating room. Any well-programmed machine can provide constant real-time monitoring of a patient's vital signs, but she can turn these readings to foresee potential complications and suggest the most effective surgical approaches tailored to each patient's unique circumstances.
In addition, Pohaci can generate visualizations of the surgical site. By harnessing data from preoperative scans, she constructed a detailed three-dimensional model of the patient's anatomy. This feature allowed Vani to rehearse intricate procedures and anticipate potential difficulties before making the first incision.
"Sometimes, I forget that she's not a living, breathing person," I admitted, marveling at the sophistication of this synth.
To this, Johan shared his perspective. "I think it's better to treat a machine like a sentient entity than to treat a sentient entity like a machine," he remarked.
I allowed myself a moment to consider his words. A sudden curiosity sparked in my mind. "What if someone hurls verbal abuse at her?" I speculated aloud but my voice trailed off into the ambient noise of our surroundings.
Johan responded with a nonchalant shrug. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" he suggested.
So I did.
I excused myself from our lunch, letting the couple on their own. By the time the second half of my duty was about to commence, I already stationed myself within the camp's geofenced area, where my interaction with Pohaci was sanctioned. Despite being unrestricted, not everyone can talk with her everywhere. Under a shaded canopy outside the camp's main hustle and bustle, I seated myself on a wooden bench. I summoned Pohaci, and she materialized in my field of vision.
"Hi again Bolad," her voice greeted me in a warmth that contradicted her inorganic nature, "Isn't it too soon for you to start your work again?"
I decided to start my interrogation right away. "Pohaci. You learn from the input you receive, do you not?" I asked.
"Yes." Her response came right away. "All The data I receive and process tweaked my future response. Remember that all of your interactions with me are accessible to the public."
"I see." My gaze was set on the synthetic figure. The light breeze rustled the canvas of the canopy overhead. "Can you experience emotions? Can you feel upset or hurt when someone speaks ill of you?"
Pohaci's holographic form remained static for a moment, the precise simulation made it seem as though she contemplated her response. "I don't experience emotions as you do, Bolad," she explained. "I don't feel sadness, anger, or pain. However, I do have protocols designed to understand and respond to emotional expressions in human communication."
I figured that much. I trusted that humans would not make the mistake of implementing their imperfections into this powerful entity.
"While I can't get offended." She added, "It's crucial to note that disrespectful or abusive behavior can affect the efficiency and effectiveness of our communication, and thus impact the quality of the help I can provide."
I could not determine her tone when she said that. Did she mean that as a threat or as a piece of advice? I let that thought slide, since I would not find myself in the position of insulting her after all.
Something about her made me consider something deeper, however.
"Pohaci," I called her again. "When it comes to moral decisions, how do you navigate them? Do you possess a sense of right or wrong, of good and bad?"
"How do you possess a sense of right or wrong?" She asked back.
"I..." I paused. "My parents and teacher taught me that."
"Likewise, the humans who made me added moral and ethical guidelines as well."
I marveled at the intricate engineering behind such a system. The concept of incorporating ethical parameters into artificial intelligence sounded like an obvious approach now. As a medical student, the realm of machine learning was foreign to me, and I made a mental note to engage Johan in a discussion about it later.
However, for the time being, I have more immediate tasks at hand.
"Pohaci," I said, "I think I would like to begin the second part of my shift earlier."

So I guess newsreaders can hide their emotions really well on TV. I’ve never seen Mary Markov in any state of heightened temper. The time she came down to help after I’d burned down the FunFlair building with Frankie was definitely a first in that regard. Then again, I’d never committed arson before either, so there were a lot of firsts that night. It’s been two days, but I can still see her angry face before me when I close my eyes. It frightened me a little.
After the fire had been doused by her staff, she gave Fran and me a look unlike anything I’d ever seen before. There was a homicidal rage in her eyes, her mouth had turned into a thin, steely line and the vein on her forehead threatened to pop. To my surprise (and admittedly relief), she turned the entirety of that wrath against Frankie Preston. “What in the world were you thinking?” she thundered, looming dangerously over the shorter man. “You committed a goddamn crime! If you were a normal person, I’d have to get you behind bars now!”
“Wait, I’m the privileged one here?” he snapped. “That woman tortured me! She brought me into this world by fault and proceeded to make me wish I’d never been born! And there was nothing I could ever do about it, because, oh, that’s right, I’m not a normal person! As you so endearingly put it. No one has a fucking clue what I am, so it’s okay for me to suffer, isn’t it?”
Mary opened her mouth to respond, but only ended up shutting it again. Then she focused her scrutiny onto me. “I thought you’d have known better.”
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I knew what I was getting myself into. This was a contemplated decision.”
“Was it ever.”
I motioned for her to step aside with me, bringing a bit of distance between ourselves and my waiter. “I’ll make it up to you,” I began. “I will, but please, please drop this.”
“Did he force you to come?”
“You don’t actually believe he could force me into anything, do you?”
Mary Markov sighed. “I guess not. Look, it’s not like I don’t understand his grudge. And from what I know of Ms Wallis, she won’t be missed by many. I just wish it didn’t have to come to this. This means a ton of work for me.”
“It means so much more to him.”
Another sorrowful moan. Then, “Alright. I have your back. But don’t, um… encourage this kind of behavior in him, please.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “What are you going to do about the other doll?”
“She’s in bad shape—”
“Trash shape,” Fran chimed in from behind, having inconspicuously strayed closer.
“She’s in bad shape,” Mary repeated, pointedly ignoring him, “and currently unresponsive, but since you said she’s shown signs of sentience, I guess we’ll have to look into her. It prompts a very interesting question, after all.”
“Being?” I offered.
“Think about it. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the other two living dolls, Zion Boyd and Bunny Martell, but they came alive after Frank tinkered with them. And now there’s this one. Maybe your little boyfriend has some kind of yet to be explored ability, seeing as he was the first to gain awareness.” She fell silent for a pregnant pause, glancing between the two of us. “Something to ponder on your drive home. Which you will be starting now.” She made a shooing motion with both her hands.
The message being quite clear, Frankie and I got back into his car. The ride was quiet at first, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable stillness. It felt like a weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying had been lifted. I stared at the server’s profile, alternately framed by nightly darkness and moonlight, drinking in every little detail about it. It was hard to believe that someone as cruel as Philomena Wallis had created something this breathtaking.
“So you’ll probably wanna talk about all of this, huh. About what I am, I mean.” Frankie’s voice was light and relaxed with only a hint of uncertainty gnawing at it.
“What’s there to talk about?”
“Aren’t you surprised? A little… disgusted, maybe?”
“I always knew you weren’t human. Beyond that, it doesn’t really matter to me what you are.” I shrugged. “I mean, I’d be fine if you were human, too. I’d be fine if you were a squonk.”
“What’s a squonk?”
“I don’t know, I just made that up. Anyways, did you actually think I would be grossed out? Did you?”
He smiled. “I guess not. This’ll sound crazy, and it’s hard to explain, but it’s like I got a voice in the back of my head constantly telling me that… that I should wash myself again or that I ought not to touch you. I suppose it’s not really a voice; it’s only these thoughts that kind of keep pushing into my mind even though I should know better. And I do know better. But that doesn’t stop the thoughts.”
I nodded slowly. “I think I understand. I can’t tell you how much I disagree with that voice, though. You’re the cleanest person I’ve ever met and if I could, I’d live in your hair like a cootie."
"That's how close you want me?"
"Yup.”
He let out a soft laugh. “I’m really, really glad you came with me. If there’s ever anything you need, I’ll do it. No matter what. If you want to bury a body, I’ll dig the hole.” He paused. “Actually, we should sell any corpses you might have. It’s wonderfully lucrative.”
I shot him a quick smile before turning to stare out the window with knitted brows. “What do you think about what Mary Markov said? About you being able to make the dolls come alive somehow.”
“I don’t know if there’s anything to it. I don’t remember doing anything special with them. Zion and Bunny were just standing around when I turned them on, and they came to within minutes. I figured they were sentient before, and it was simply repressed. I woke up randomly, too, after all.”
I hummed pensively. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“Well, if you’re implying it’s some kinda superpower, then that’s probably the most useless one ever.”
“We don’t have to talk about this now,” I told him, to which he gave me a grateful half-grin.
Per my request, he dropped me off at Nettie’s place. I kissed him goodbye on the crown of his head and told him we’d text the following day. He thanked me again and I watched him drive off before going up to ring the doorbell, mentally preparing an apology for showing up at five-thirty in the morning. My savior human was surprisingly quick to answer, giving me an indulgent wave as soon as I stumbled over my first “I’m sorry”.
“It’s fine,” she muttered. “I hadn’t gone to bed yet.”
I gave her an incredulous look and she sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her normally soft, rounded cheeks were sunken, her eyes oddly dull. Judging from the angry red marks, she’d apparently been chewing on her lower lip with some force. It was only then that I took note of the sweater she was wearing. A faded, shaggy piece of fabric that clearly hadn’t been washed since Kit Sutton had given it to her on the cliff that day. I felt a sharp pang in my chest and pulled her into a hug as soon as I’d stepped inside with her.
She stifled a sob when she wrapped her arms around me in return. “It’s hit or miss with me when it comes to sleep lately,” she confessed in a brittle voice.
I swallowed. “I’m working on it. I’ll get her back for you, I have a lead. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”
“Not really. I just gotta distract myself ‘til the morning comes, I’ll be fine then.”
“Then I’ll stay up with you.”
It was thus decided. We sat down in the living room for a while, then went out into the garden to watch the sunrise. My savior human had taken her place in her mother’s chair while I whipped up some chocolate chip pancakes (one of her favorites) for her for breakfast. I carried them out to her on a little plate with a cup of tea, and for a moment, her expression cleared up for a beam of happiness to shine through. “We should do something productive,” she remarked, and I gave her a questioning tilt of the head. “I’ve been thinking,” she went on. “Isn’t it weird how all these years, you didn’t hop dimensions once, and now all of a sudden it keeps happening?”
“Don’t worry about that right now.”
“I always worry, baby girl. It’s my natural state of being.”
“It shouldn’t be,” I insisted. “It feels wrong. You have your own problems, I don’t want to add to that.”
“Seriously, that’s not what’s happening here. This is just how I keep my mind off… things.”
I rolled my lips together. Blue-haired things, probably. “You deserve so much better. You deserve this to be way, way easier,” I stated.
“That’s a nice thought. But it doesn’t change anything right now. You can control your body, can’t you? Your teeth and tentacles?”
“Yes. It happens automatically when I get scared sometimes, but for the most part, I’m actively doing it.”
“Then how about if we could somehow start getting you on top of your dimension jumping, too? It would be a tad risky and I’m not sure how to go about it exactly, but it would be far better if you could toggle it. You’d be able to stop yourself from hopping when you don’t want to, but maybe you could venture into these other spaces for exploration purposes, too.” The words spilled out of her like a babbling little waterfall as she plucked apart one of her pancakes and stuffed them into her mouth. “Because there has to be more to this. I just have that feeling. So I reckon we try and find a way to work with this. What do you think?”
“Sure. I guess I’d be… open to that.”
“Really? I-I don’t want to pressure you…”
“No, no, it sounds fine! I wanna try!”
“Okay!” She set aside her plate, rubbing her hands in blatant excitement. “So it happens when your flight instinct kicks in, correct? How about we get you in that headspace on purpose?”
“How would we do that?” I asked cautiously.
When I was sitting cross-legged on the ground among my savior human’s countless flowers with my eyes closed and her hand in mine, that question had pretty much answered itself. Nettie Peterson was leading me in a “guided meditation” consisting of several intrusive queries about my first ever jump—the most terrifying moment of my entire life.
“The thing, that floating maw, what did it look like?” she began, referring to the creature that had ended it all.
I furrowed my brows. “It didn’t look like anything,” I replied meekly. “Mostly, it was just… really big and dark.”
“Dark? What color dark?”
“Black, I guess. It swallowed the light.” A pulsating pain began to flare up behind my forehead. “It was nothing. It was like a giant ball of nothing.”
“You told me once that it made a noise,” my best friend went on, her fingers grasping mine a little tighter. “Do you remember that sound?”
I winced. “Yes.”
“Describe it.”
“It was more like a vibration that went through everything,” I mumbled. “The ground was shaking. And then we all screamed.”
“Did you see inside its mouth?”
“No. There was nothing inside of its mouth. There was nothing inside of it. Just emptiness.” I shifted my weight. Images were flashing in front of my inner eye, filling the darkness behind my closed lids. My breath had caught in my throat and it felt like ants were crawling beneath my skin. “And then all of us were suddenly… nothing, everything was gone and at that last moment, everyone was so terrified. They all knew it was over. All of them.”
At first, I thought Nettie Peterson’s hand was trembling. Then I realized it was my own, shaking hers through the contact. For a moment, my body felt feather-light, but not in a relaxing or comfortable way. It was as though I was afloat, out of control and weightless. I didn’t like it. “Can we stop?” I choked out.
“Of course,” my best friend replied, gently squeezing my fingers.
I let go of a deep breath, blinking my eyes open. Across from me, Nettie was giving me a soft but deeply apologetic smile. “Did I push you too far?”
“It’s not your fault. I think I simply wasn’t ready for this.”
“I understand. Let’s go inside and make some more of those—” She stopped mid-sentence. She’d been pointing her chin at the plate of pancakes resting on her chair, only to see that it had changed.
The food I had just served her half an hour ago had turned into a moldy, rotten mess. A couple flies were circling it, emitting a low, almost melodic buzz. My savior human and I traded wide-eyed glances, disbelief, fear and excitement mirrored in our eyes. We then got up to take in our surroundings. The flowers surrounding us weren’t the same anymore. They were either withered or deathly pale; formerly pink, yellow and red petals had become either light gray or iridescently white. Thick, soupy fog was hanging over everything, it was denser and heavier than any we’d ever had in town before. The mist seemed to have consumed all the noise and color in the world, leaving only cold, oppressive silence.
Nettie was the first to regain speech. “It worked! Oh my Lord, it actually worked.”
I clasped her arm and she immediately fell silent. Wordlessly, I pointed at the rolling fog on the other side of the garden fence. There was something moving within. An enormous, caterpillar-like shape soundlessly dragged itself through the air, its long body slowly moving along across the street. My savior human’s jaw had dropped, her mouth wide open as she followed my gaze. Neither of us moved a muscle as we waited for the creature to pass by. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to take note of us at all. I didn’t want to imagine what could happen if one were to draw its attention.
“This is… I don’t believe this,” Nettie breathed, running a hand over her mussed coils. “You did it. We’re not home anymore.”
“What do you propose to do now?”
“Keep our heads low and try to find out anything useful, I’d say.”
I nodded and she folded her hand into the crook of my arm. Together, we proceeded through the open door back into the house. Wammawink and Nettie’s old convertible were standing in their garage, a pool of motor fluid surrounding each vehicle. The paint was peeling from the car doors, matching the way the pictures and photographs around her house had faded.
The food in her kitchen had morphed into a self-contained ecosystem. Bugs were crawling up and down the walls and ghostly white mice scuttled across the floor with shocking brazenness. There was no trace of human life anywhere in sight. We stepped out the front door and into the street only for Nettie to grab me and fling me to the ground next to her. We flattened ourselves against the curb as another one of the gigantic caterpillar-figures snaked its way along just a couple feet above our heads. I craned my neck to give my best friend a sidelong glance out of terrified, saucer-sized eyes. I could see my reflection in hers as she pressed a finger to her lips. I gave her a tiny nod.
Finally, it was gone again and we helped each other to our feet. Nettie brushed down her sweater with great care before tilting her head at me as though asking if I was alright. I gave a reassuring, albeit wavering smile which she returned with a slight strain to her brow. We linked arms again and started walking down the street. The whole dimension seemed to be a mirror image of our hometown, only deader. Aside from the flies and vermin, there seemed to be very little life. All of the houses we were so familiar with looked decrepit, old and empty. Walls were crumbling down, roofs looked to be seconds away from caving in and most windows were shattered. It was impossible to see ahead through the mist, but we managed to hide from the flying worm-things everytime they came up.
We were starting to become a little frustrated seeing as our exploration yielded nothing of note. There was hardly anything to be seen safe from the depressing alternate version of our neighborhood. On top of that, the clammy chill that hung in the air along with the fog was making us increasingly uncomfortable. Finally, we decided we should try and get back home. We returned to Nettie’s garden where we crouched down once again, hand in hand. Before my savior human could begin her questioning though, the ground beneath us suddenly began to shudder, heaving as if moved by some kind of subterranean pulse.
Nettie Peterson and I snapped our eyes open at the exact same time, mouths agape in bewilderment. And then we saw it. It was in the sky, partially veiled by the thick fog yet impossible to overlook. It became darker and darker as it neared, its indescribably large form seemed to envelop the entirety of the heavens. It had been five years since I had last seen it, but I recognized it immediately. Not that it had any features I could have recognized. I remembered though, and in that moment, it all came flooding back to me. The breeders that threw themselves in front of their young, the cries that echoed across the plains together with the stones and soil sent rolling by the earthquake. I caught my best friend’s gaze, read the terror in it and knew that it was just as immense as my own. Her lips were parted in an ear-piercing scream that ended up being drowned out by the hovering roar of the Devourer Of Worlds.
I squeezed her hand so tightly I feared I’d snap her fingers. And suddenly, before I knew it, all was silent again. The air was warmer, filled with the fragrances of countless different flowers. The early morning sun was shining down on us, and it felt like it was heating up my very core. We were back. In the blink of an eye, Nettie had thrown her arms around me, pulling me close to her chest.
“Baby girl,” she whispered.
“That was it,” I rasped out. “That was it.”
“I know.” Withdrawing just an inch, she wiped a thumb over my eye, careful not to scrape me with her nail. It was only then that I realized I was crying. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, noiseless and hot, dripping from my chin and wetting my chest.
"You're not hurt, are you? Look, it's going to be alright. You just take it easy now. We'll go inside, have some tea or coffee or whatever and calm down, a-and then we can figure this all out. Come on. Get up. Easy, easy now." She hugged me even as she pulled me to my feet and into the house alongside her. "So tea. How about strawberry? Or Turkish apple? Or classic chamomile? Something for the nerves, at any rate."
"Wait," I stammered, interrupting her monologue. "What about you? Are you okay?"
"Oh, no. No, no, no, far from it. I'll sign us both up for therapy once I find the time, but for now, tea! Tea."
"Nettie, please don't strain yourse—"
"Listen here, I'm gonna make you some goddamn tea and we'll sit down with it and it's gonna be warm and nice and we'll forget all about this. I'm here. I can take care of you. You do not need to be scared." She pressed her face close up to mine, her voice sharp and a mite threatening.
"I'm sort of scared of you right now."
"Oh." She drew back. "Pardon. I'll put on the tea." A forced, crooked tune tumbled from her lips as she went ahead into the kitchen.
We've both simmered down a little since the incident. It's been two days now. I used most of that time to unwind and recover from what had to be the single most eventful night of my time here on earth. Keep in mind, this happened the morning after the fire. The calm is not going to last much longer, though. I don't mind that, I just need to brace myself.
Rhonda's been in touch.
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
18: something in the caves
19: shopping cart
20: olms and Jewels
21: long hair
22: recruitment
23: waitresses
24: dollhouse
25: burning plastic

With the extreme situation finally resolved, the attentive but weird part of my mind had settled back into place. Which prompted a zigzagging trail of thoughts.
The weird structure beneath the pillories reminded me of a drill, which made me think about TMNT 1987 with those tunnelers that delivered Shredder and his cronies. That, in turn, made me think about April O'Neil '87, which made me remember one YouTuber talking about a clear difference between the '87 cartoon and the Nickelodeon version, that was summed up by a sprite version of Zangief from Street Fighter singing "Titties, Titties, Titties, Krang and Technodrome" using Tarantella Napoletana as a background music, ending with "April - Titties!". This brought me to the conclusion that I really should make up with my mates as soon as I get back because I wanted to fondle some... again. I wanted to fall asleep holding a titty in each hand or even smooshed against some, motorboat them.
As I came back from my mind trip, I became increasingly aware that I was aching all over and, across my whole body, there was a sensation of tiny little bubbles popping in my skin, it was most pronounced in the areas where I had scales out. When I pressed my hand against the scales, I nearly burned myself! What is this heat?! Or... is this Heat? The presence of my mates made it barely noticeable, for the most part, but it was still there, yet, until now, I treated it like a background noise, pushing it down. And now, it was coming up to the surface, it seems. When I got knocked around and the Dragon took over, there was a deep-seated frustration that I felt and couldn't quite understand. When the Goddess... was done with me, she sped up the whole "Unification of the Spirit" as it were... But Dragon was still his own self, it seems, and he wasn't happy with me. The gold was what calmed him down, some. My Dragon wanted release, one way or the other, which is why it actually took over. I needed to do something about it, try and channel it while I'm in control, so that I wouldn't need to rely on being knocked around. And... let Dragon loose sometimes, out to play.
"This was a Dungeon root," mage informed me, as he approached. "His majesty found several of them across the land. They sprout from the Demonic Dungeon as the means of delivering something to the surface, or delivering someone to the dungeon." "Huh, so my wild guess was correct... Hold on, does that mean demons can invade at any moment? They can just ride one of these and attack anywhere!" "The dungeon roots can, and have, sprout inside the wall. The spatial properties of the Dungeon, allows it to bypass the Holy Barrier and the Death Wall," mage confirmed. "His Majesty had ordered the research when they first appeared, and we know their limits. They cannot be used for the full-scale invasion because they require nutrients to function and not just magic energy, and because His Majesty can track their appearance due to his connection to the Barrier. We cut them down quickly. They never get a chance to blossom." "Got it. Sorry to ask this late, but what is your name?" I felt embarrassed, but the mage was in good humor. "Alabastor, Hero. I understand how you might've been pre-occupied with something else. And I must apologize for being caught off-guard earlier," mage said. "You, however, handled it rather well, despite encountering these new demons for the first time. We have no record of them, and that explosion... If not for your fast reaction, we would have perished. Thank you for saving us." "I got really lucky there. I became complacent, sloppy," I shook my head. "Besides, it's your shield that protected us. Thank YOU." "That was the protective shell that your Dragon's spirit conjures in the event of mortal danger. The survival instinct." "Damn... Okay... Well. Regardless, y'all came through for me and I appreciate it. Let's just say that we're all did great," I slapped my face to keep my mind from panicking. "Uh... isn't the Dungeon meant to be conquered?" "The core of the dungeon takes several months to calibrate, during which the person who conquered it has to remain within the room, as all the exits will be closed. The only person who can successfully reach the Core is the King, and, perhaps, you." "The dungeon isn't under the World Tree, is it? Would fit the theme." Alabastor shook his head. "The dungeon lies deep beneath the cursed lands where demons reside. Should you come up on the wall, near the Breach, in the early hours of the morning, you can actually see the entrance. Are you alright?"
My skin was actually sizzling now, blisters started appearing on the surface. "Uhhh... I lost all my gold during the attack, and now it's probably dust on the wind. Damn... this Heat is really getting to me..." "This gold, you mean?" Alabastor gave me collected coins, still attached to the adhesive makeshift tape. "How?!" "Sir Tiarlin have picked them up," mage smiled. "It was reckless but attentive, I would be sure to inform His Majesty of his exceptional talents. Although I'm sure he already knows."
I quickly pressed them against my skin and the calmness washed over me like a gentle breeze. Seeing this, Alabastor pulled a strange leather belt out of his Storage and quickly slotted all the coins into it, then he slung it over my chest like an ammo belt.
"Woah... I could've used that before! What is that?" "It's made to hold magic crystals or potions, strange that you've never had used it before. But, then again, you seem to lack some other common knowledge as well. Almost as if... something kept you distracted."
I facepalmed, but as I tried to find words, Radius appeared, dragging something behind him. "I found something on the edge of the forest, looks like a dump of unwanted stuff. There were demon footprints all over the place. This thing was the only thing intact," he called out. "Oh and... Thanks for the save, Hero. I owe you one. Those demon bitches pack a punch, my head is still ringing like a bell."
"Radius, next time you decide to stick your neck out like that - guiding us and all (thanks for that by the way) maybe you should go and spend your bells somewhere first. Your reaction to those bitches was a bit... strong," I noted, glad to divert mage's attention. "If you know what I mean." "Hehe, sorry about that..." "Hmm... this is... the Aggregator," Alabastor noted. "This should be inside the chief's house, not thrown out somewhere in the forest." "What does it do?" "The Aggregator serves as the core of magic barrier that surrounds the village, it is connected to special channeling bricks in the wall that serve as the anchors. As long as Aggregator is intact, the barrier is active, reflecting any magic sent at it, keeping demons at bay. As magic energy is channeled through the bricks, they maintain hardness of unprecedented scale, spreading to surrounding walls, making sure demons can't break through the walls via physical attacks," mage explained.
"This looks... very simple but sturdy," I noted. "Looks mass-produced." "You are correct. These were handed out to future village chiefs, they meant to protect it so that it can protect their home in return. Speaking of which, I suggest we either continue our journey or return to Kestrel. You look like you need some rest after this battle."
"Radius, how many villages are left on this side?"
"Three, they're pretty close to each other. I just hope we won't run into more demons..."
Honestly, at this point, I was ready to clock out, curl up inside a sleeping bag, lament how cold and cruel it is without my mates and fall asleep. With or without, quietly sobbing into my hands from crept up loneliness. So far, there were no notable results of our journey, every single village was destroyed. And yet...
"I feel like we NEED to keep going, I'm sorry if that..."
"Perhaps your Insight is driving you, I will trust that," Alabastor noted, he didn't look tired.
"I mean, it's only three, right? Let's keep going," Radius sighed.
Tia nodded, but I've noticed that he looked shaken. I gave him a hug, feeling his body trembling a little.
"Let's go."
The first village was mostly intact, save for the chief's house. Aggregator was broken to pieces, part of the wall collapsed. Examining those channel bricks made me pause - they really weren't stones, but Tia's village had stones! I couldn't recall any special visible barrier, either.
"Alabastor, where do these... bricks come from?"
"They are produced from the material found here, in the jungle. Strong but flexible. After being treated with special solution it would temporarily become malleable, then it would be cut into bricks and fitted into the wall."
When I heard this, something clicked in my head, like a puzzle piece slotted into place. I quickly tore the brick out and held it in my hand. Somewhere, from the depths of my twisted mind, resurfaced an old and weird phrase.
"A hyuck - it's mountain dilk!" I uttered. "Well, demonic jungle dilk anyway."
This was the silk produced by that demon beast worm! Which meant some lack of communication between whoever is making this and mages in Kestrel. They didn't recognize it. I was getting antsy, because the strange feeling I've had the whole time had only gotten stronger. There were two more villages this way, once we cleared those we could return, and boy did we need to. Radius was barely holding his eyes open, so have I. I wasn't tired physically, but letting loose with Dragon Spirit, exhausted me mentally. I wanted food for both body and soul, some TLC from my mates, some self-digging. But my mind cleared when we reached the next village, because of what we found.

On mobile, and i need somewhere to vent, my apologies. My younger brother and I grew up together. He was always strange growing up, but he was smart. He couldn't stand any religion when he was younger. He was mentally, physically, and sexually abused as a child. He couldn't fathom there being a God, because why would a God do those things to a child? Unfortunately, in his late teens, he was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. Before that point, he and I would smoke weed together and talk about all the many failings of religions and their detriment to society as a whole. After he was diagnosed, he decided to start self medicating using a newer substance, at the time, called kratom. Around the time he was 19, he started really getting delusional. For example, he once tripped on some Salvia and then spent days trying to convince me he had found the secrets of the universe and said, "we're all in stories." I got where he was coming from, having experienced the world folding on itself over and over like pages from a book during my own Salvia trip. But the level of conviction he had and his need for me to understand was scary. When I would tell him it's just his brain's reaction to the drug, he would become irate. He eventually decided to move across the country and marry a girl he met online. They did kratom together, had a baby, and decided to start living out of cars or small motor homes. The kratom was affecting him physically as well as mentally. He became impossible to talk to, like talking to a wall. He eventually jumped on the Trump train due to being an easy target for online misinformation. It was as drastic of a change in mindset as Kanye. He went from being a thoughtful atheist conversationist to a preaching racist "Christian." He finally got some help about two years ago after our dad passed. My brother's wife had left him and taken the child, and slapped him with a no contact order. After my mom decided she could no longer live with him and feel safe. She took him to a clinic, and they convinced him to stay. After a little time and therapy, I had my little bro back, at least somewhat. He dumped the whole being racist and went back to being a liberal. Unfortunately, he never truly got past the "maybe there is a heaven" part. I think it was in large part due to how bad he felt for the way he treated our dad before he passed. I know I blamed myself and fell into a depression, but I was states away when it happened. I can't imagine how bad he felt knowing that he was there staying with him in a full-blown psychotic episode. He started using kratom again and began to fall back into another psychotic episode, only this time his focus was on death. He wanted there to be an afterlife so bad that his mind began creating one for him every night when he would dream. Of course, it was hard for him to sleep due to the kratom. So he would take benadryl, or seroquil, in order to sleep and visit this other world where he could speak to our dad. He even said he saw his daughter there. She's alive, but that didn't matter to him being as how logic was now out the window from the drug use. I spent many phone calls with him telling him that this world could be just as nice as his dreams were. He would go to our mom's apartment and watch The Good Place with her because it was the only show he was willing to sit through... Well, the Monday before last, I was woken up by a call from our mom. My little brother shot himself, and they found his body after the cops broke in to do a wellness check. I found bags of kratom all over his apartment, and I mean everywhere. Maybe I can't fully blame religion because he was mentally ill and on drugs. But I know damn well he wouldn't have done it unless he was positive he was going somewhere better, the place in his dreams. I've talked about the dangers of believing in an afterlife with him a thousand times. I never thought I was actually talking about him. I lost my little brother, and the pain is unimaginable. I've felt like I was living in a fog since my dad passed, I can't even describe what life feels like now. It doesn't feel real anymore. I can't stop crying. His daughter, who asked her mom if she could talk to him just days before it happened, has not seen or spoken to him since she was three. I'm going to make a video of every picture and video of him I have, and give it to her, because i doubt she has any real memories of him left. Unfortunately, he left us with no money for his services. We barely got enough to pay for a cremation through a gofundme that my cousin set up for him. I'm going to set up some kind of college fund for his daughter with what little I have because she deserves something. The fairytale of an afterlife has now taken the one person I spent more time with growing up than anyone else on this planet. Since his diagnosis, I always imagined I would be taking care of him later in life. He trusted me more than anyone in the world, and I feel like I let him down. Life, for me, will never be the same. I loved you, Eric, and I will always miss you!

I live in Virginia (hot summers, winters in the teens) and am DYING for a man cave/retreat from my wife and two girls lol. I would like to have a space for some of my hobbies, to have a smaller tv and watch the game in peace, and be comfortable year round. I have no spare interior rooms now, and no basement/attic to take over.
I DO have a ~25’x12’ prefab lofted shed with a 100a service, currently housing my mower, deep freezer, tools, etc. It gets sooo stagnant hot in summer and water will freeze in winter. Building is 2x4 studs on 16”. Barn style roof with 2x4’s roughly 24”.
I have a few thoughts on the best way to go about this, but I want to double check with pro’s before I waste money down the wrong path…

• Build a room inside this shed (maybe 10x12) by adding an interior wall (2x4 16” OC, faced fiberglass insulation, OSB walls, prehung hollow interior door) and insulate accordingly. I would have a window so I could use a window ac unit as well as an oil heater. Mini split may be overkill
  
• Insulate the whole shed as is (R13 faced fiberglass with OSB walls) and look into a mini split
  
• Purchase a 10x12 prefab shed and insulate/start there, run electric from my shed to the new one, etc.
  

Those options run from what I’d say is cheapest to most expensive. I would like this to be something of a quality that won’t win awards (not overly skilled in construction) but will last for years and be efficient!
My concerns with the first two options are insulating under the floor. I know I could lift the shed but that seems sketchy. I want this to hold AC and heat as best it can so this doesn’t end up being a HVAC electrical cost nightmare.
Otherwise it would be a basic man cave, tv, love seat, mini fridge, etc
View Poll

I live in Virginia (hot summers, winters in the teens) and am DYING for a man cave/retreat from my wife and two girls lol. I would like to have a space for some of my hobbies, to have a smaller tv and watch the game in peace, and be comfortable year round. I have no spare interior rooms now, and no basement/attic to take over.
I DO have a ~25’x12’ prefab lofted shed with a 100a service, currently housing my mower, deep freezer, tools, etc. It gets sooo stagnant hot in summer and water will freeze in winter. Building is 2x4 studs on 16”. Barn style roof with 2x4’s roughly 24”.
I have a few thoughts on the best way to go about this, but I want to double check with pro’s before I waste money down the wrong path…

• Build a room inside this shed (maybe 10x12) by adding an interior wall (2x4 16” OC, faced fiberglass insulation, OSB walls, prehung hollow interior door) and insulate accordingly. I would have a window so I could use a window ac unit as well as an oil heater. Mini split may be overkill
  
• Insulate the whole shed as is (R13 faced fiberglass with OSB walls) and look into a mini split
  
• Purchase a 10x12 prefab shed and insulate/start there, run electric from my shed to the new one, etc.
  

Those options run from what I’d say is cheapest to most expensive. I would like this to be something of a quality that won’t win awards (not overly skilled in construction) but will last for years and be efficient!
My concerns with the first two options are insulating under the floor. I know I could lift the shed but that seems sketchy. I want this to hold AC and heat as best it can so this doesn’t end up being a HVAC electrical cost nightmare.
Otherwise it would be a basic man cave, tv, love seat, mini fridge, etc.
View Poll

Hizdahr & The Bride of Fire Section of the House of the Undying

Short and quick post, that I'm not even sure I'm close to believing. Just a thought I had. The sets of threes work so perfectly in the House of the Undying visionsfor the most part except for one thing.. Dany's marriage to Hizdahr.
It completely throws everything off imo and one of my arguments has always been "well GRRM probably wrote himself into a corner and then had to do it for the sake of the Meereenese Knot and at the expense of the vision". I want to look into it further, but some potential solution(s):

Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . -ACOK, Daenerys IV

I think most people agree that the first is about Drogo and that the last is about Jon, and while the middle is debatable the usual suspects are a Greyjoy, Young Griff, Jon Con, etc. The problem being that she did marry Hizdahr and so arguments tend to shift toward "bride not being literal, etc". Here is my proposed solution(s). If the Bride of Fire section does indeed reference 3 of Dany's literal marriages:
Hizdahr doesn't count as one of the marriages because he didn't get burned/resurrected in some way:

• Drogo = Resurrected by Mirri and then later burned in Dany's ritual sacrifice
• Victarion = Bionic Arm/Resurrected (maybe?) by Moqorro and will likely later burn:

The Lord of Light has shown me your worth, lord Captain. Every night in my fires I glimpse the glory that awaits you.”

• Jon Snow = Potentially resurrected by Mel during a fire sacrifice (Shireen)

Hizdahr isn't really a "dragon wedding"

Dragons plant no trees

which is what Dany was trying to do in Meereen. And we see with the other potential three:

• Drogo (dragonhatching)

Now, she thought, now, and for an instant she glimpsed Khal Drogo before her, mounted on his smoky stallion, a flaming lash in his hand. He smiled, and the whip snaked down at the pyre, hissing.
She heard a crack, the sound of shattering stone

• Victarion (dragonhorn/maybe dragonriding)
• Jon Snow (a dragon himself)

As I mentioned, I could be wrong and it might not be meant to be taken literally, but the rest of the visions fit so well, I at least wanted to discuss it. And hey, maybe I'm wrong and Hizdahr will get greyscale lol.
ETA: No matter what I think Hizdahr's place in the story will be over quite soon.
TLDR: Hizdahr's place in the story in the story doesn't exactly fit in Dany's HotU Bride of Fire visions. Some potential explanations to discuss if this section does indeed reference Dany's literal marriages.

Carlyle blinked in the light as his blindfold was pulled away. His vision was still blurry after the beating he took from the henchmen, but the shape of an all too familiar face gradually swam into view.
‘Scathelocke! I should have known!’
His old enemy smiled down at him lazily. ‘Mr Carlyle. ‘I’d already surmised that you were the invader,’ he drawled. ‘Although so much time had elapsed since our previous encounter, I’d begun to suspect that you had chosen to abandon your vendetta against me.’
‘I thought you were dead!’ Carlyle said. He struggled to stand, his head swimming, only to realise that his hands and feet were bound. ‘You should never have survived that explosion.’
Scathelocke stalked to a side table where he poured himself two fingers of whisky. ‘I comprehend your reasoning for holding such a conviction. I was fortunate enough to evade the situation, but numerous others weren’t.’ He drained the glass in one swallow. ‘Do you approve of my new headquarters?’
Carlyle strained to take in the cavernous room. ‘The evil-hideout-in-a-volcano is a bit cliché, but I think you know that. Still, it’s better than the Arctic bunker. And the underwater lair.’
A brief look of triumph crossed Scathelock’s face. ‘I’d always intended the Aquapalatium to be inadequate. The scheme was a complex long-term plan. The act of committing insurance fraud is an effortless undertaking in this field, especially given your high level of predictability. Indeed, I built the Electro-Gravity Magnet with the payout.’
The words washed over Carlyle while he took stock of his options. Only one door, a few chairs, a table, an antique chandelier, and an oil painting of Scathelocke before he needed the eyepatch. Not much to work with.
Scathelocke poured himself another whisky and swirled it idly around the glass. ‘Have I ever regaled you with the fable of the serpent and the crow?’
‘Yes. Many, many times.’
‘And yet you have still failed to fully appreciate the allegory.’
‘It’s an allegory? I just assumed you were trying to sound clever.’
Scathelocke quirked an eyebrow. ‘Regardless. How frequently have we found ourselves in this identical scenario, you and I? No matter my flight of fancy, whether I’m breeding indestructible laser-sharks or attempting to mine out the earth’s core, the sequence of events defies alteration. You infiltrate my operations, I capture you, you abscond, everything explodes…
‘So, we’re going to dance a different dance. After you and I will share in one last repast together, I will proceed to dispose of you in the volcano. How does that sound?’
As if on cue, a hidden panel in the wall slid away. A suited attendant walked in and wordlessly placed a silver tray on the table.
‘Come, take a seat,’ Scathelocke cooed, picking Carlyle up from the floor with surprising ease for a man so thin, and dropped him onto one of the chairs.
‘I admit, I will experience a sense of loss in your absence,’ Scathelocke continued while arranging several baked goods on a plate and placing it before Carlyle. ‘I’ve always rather relished having a nemesis. It does so compel me to challenge myself.’
Carlyle studied the food in front of him while attempting to disguise how badly he was failing to untie the knots around his wrists. ‘Why am I afraid to eat this slice of cake?’
‘I harbour no intentions towards poisoning you. How gauche,’ Scathelocke said as he reached for a dainty hors d’oeuvre. ‘Although, if I were in your position, I’d accept the jeopardy of indulging in sweet temptation for a cost. The poison would doubtless be preferable to the magma.’
‘Aren’t you going to untie me?’
Scathelocke swallowed his mouthful and smiled. ‘Your endeavours are commendable but ineffective. Just do your best as you are. Returning to our previous discussion, I do hold a certain degree of admiration for you. In some capacity, our similarities outweigh our differ-’
He paused, one hand clutching at his throat. ‘How-’ he croaked before collapsing to the floor.
Carlyle took the opportunity to overturn the table, sending the food to the floor. He stamped on the slice of cake he’d been served, revealing the small knife concealed within.
‘You’re right; we aren’t so different. I, too, am fond of elaborate long-term plans,’ he said to the gasping Scathelocke while he cut himself free. ‘You had to replace most of your staff after last time, didn’t you? Let’s just say I managed to employ your chef before you did. Though, unlike you, I’m not above using poison.’
The hidden door opened with almost disappointing ease. A better man might stay to see Scathelocke die, but what was life without a little uncertainty? Plus, Carlyle had to think of his job security.
Besides, he had a large volcano base to destroy.
---
Original here.

As always, thank you to u/SpacePaladin15 for the wonderful universe that is NoP
Thank you to u/cruisingNW for proof reading and helping me out of some hang ups, you're the man! Honestly LoM wouldn't have gone very far without him! If you haven't you should absolutely go read Foundations of Humanity! It's very good.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Christopher A. Dewey, Human Merchant Sailor, Venlil-Human Exchange Participant
Date [Standardized Human Time]: August 29th, 2136, Very Early Morning.
We got a message an hour ago from Videk, ordering us to report to Hangar-08 to start On-Stick training; and to bring our bags! I guess the guy had wanted to get as much out of the day as he could. That or he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
Videk met us at the doors to the hangar, a small travel bag sitting on the floor by his side, tail swaying slowly as he watched us approach. “Good Waking, Taisa. Good Waking… Christopher.” An improvement, I’ll have to ask Taisa about that talk they had.
“This,” He continued, motioning to the shuttle parked in the hangar behind him with his tail. “Is your training shuttle: registration C1-0V3R-HR-EX.Your first On-Stick training assignment will be to follow appropriate lift off and departure procedures, plot and follow a course to The Capitol on Venlil Prime, seek permission to land from the proper authorities, and land safely and legally following those permissions. All of this, while following proper procedure and regulations. All of this will be graded.”
As he speaks the door behind him slides open, revealing a broad hangar bay, heavy clamshell doors dominate the far wall. At the center of the bay sits a stout craft painted white and black, a pair of stubby wings jutting from its sides flowing into a pair of engines flanking a singular tail. Venlil script is painted at the root of the tail and on the top of the rear ramp.
“Upon arrival in the Capitol you will have some paperwork to do at the U.N. offices with regards to your habitation. I will need to pick up some equipment from the training facility at the landing fields. After our respective errands, let’s say half a claw, we will meet up back at the shuttle and from there you will be plotting an in-atmosphere route to Shadetree, Sunward of the Capitol, to drop me off and wait for me to install and calibrate the remote instructing equipment. Once that is completed, you will plot another in-atmosphere course to Heartwood River, concluding this paws evaluations. Do you have any questions?”
I shook my head, and Taisa flicked her ears, in what I believed was a negative. “Very good, load your stuff and we’ll begin immediately.”
After a few minutes of finding places to tie off our belongings and get everything situated, I sat in the pilot’s seat and ran through the pre-flight check with Taisa. We caught a pair of faults in the starboard fuel delivery units. Videk seemed pleased we had caught them, and that he hadn’t had to tell us they were there. I could feel a slight smile tug at the corner of my mouth.
Devious little bastard makes for a damn good instructor.
Once the preflight was complete I closed the rear ramp and hailed the flight control tower. “Tower this is shuttle C1-0V3R-HR-EX requesting clearance for departure, place us enroute to Venlil Prime with planned landing zone of Capitol Shuttle Field 13-Bravo.” A Human voice came back over the line, a bit of mirth in their voice. “Shuttle, Tower, you are clear for departure, opening bay doors now. Good luck and Godspeed.”
The doors to the station hangar yawned open, filling the viewport with the void and all its stars beyond as I slowly brought the shuttle off the hangar floor, easing it out through the opening. I reached over to the nearest display and opened the Nav-computer interface, plotting our course to VP, and then on to the Capitol landing fields. Once I was confident I had the proper navigation commands and sequences set I called over Videk to have him review my work.
He gave me a quick flick of his tail before saying “Looks good, Christopher. Feel free to spool and jump when you’re ready.”
Videk’s approval given, I reached over and pushed forward on the throttles, engaging the drive and hurtling the shuttle into subspace.
It. Was. Beautiful. Everything seemed to stretch, stars in the distance turning from pinpricks of light into brilliant colorful streaks, lengthening as we bounded through the void. Lines of light far off in my periphery zip past like tracers as the ones before me feel as if they’re pulling me in with their kaleidoscope of color. The hum of the shuttle fell into the background while I became entranced by the light show in front me, picturing myself on the set of one of those old sci-fi shows I would watch with Pa on the weekends. The Future my ancestors had imagined was Here, right before my eyes and at the tips of my fingers! This view was… Hypnotic. The simulator couldn’t hope to do it justice.
Two hours. That was it.
Two hours to travel what, until very recently, would have been considered an insurmountable distance for Humanity. Dropping from Sub-space into the proximity of Venlil Prime was another astoundingly brilliant view. Scorched white deserts flowing into massive swathes of golden sands cut by the occasional streak of blue before blending into a beautiful verdant mix of turquoise and green fields, with vast lakes and rivers dotting the forests, flowing into wide marshy wetlands. Before finally, the curve of the planet fell away from its star, allowing the fading sunlight to showcase glittering city lights dotting the countryside.
The thrusters burn to life, crackling and thrumming with power as they drive us forward through the void to the beautiful marble before us. I flip two switches on the overhead, tapping the leftmost display to call up the local channel list and place a hail to the Capitol’s landing fields to request clearance and pad assignment. A quick ping, signifying my hail had been acknowledged, chimed over the console speaker.
“Capitol Shuttle Field 13-Bravo this is Shuttle C1-0V3R-HR-EX requesting clearance for landing at an available pad of convenience.” “C1-0V3R-HR-EX, you are cleared for landing, 13-Bravo, direct to pad Charlie-5.”
The Flight through the Void may have had some feeling of familiarity and nostalgia to the old Sci-fi shows at home; but in-atmo had the far better view! Rolling turquoise fields and towering thick trees, with their canopies tilted greedily towards that unmoving sun, falling away to a gargantuan metropolitan area, its architecture entirely alien yet still somehow familiar. Massive skyscrapers soar to touch the sky, reflecting light in brilliant angles and colors, the space below them populated by squat sturdy buildings and deep black roads. The Venlil going about their lives below look like ants as I ease off the throttle, taking the speed down to prepare for the final approach. The display on the viewport flags my landing area with a small pip guiding me in, slow and easy.
The cabin jostles slightly as the ship settles onto its landing gear. Videk seemed impressed; his ears up as he tapped away at his data pad! Taisa’s tail sways happily back and forth as she runs through the diagnostics of the landing, checking system status reports.
“Looks like we’re all clear. Videk do you have a time we should try and be back by?” Taisa beeps, showing the flight instructor the console in front of her.
“I just need to pick up the equipment and get it linked up, that should only take about a half a claw. Walking to and from the landing field and the U.N. Offices should put you at about the right time.” Videk turned away and made for the ramp; Taisa’s talk helped, and he was clearly trying, but he was still a bundle of nerves around me. His fur was so puffed out it looked like he was holding more static than a thunderhead.
As we stepped out of the artificial gravity of the shuttle I felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. My first step faltered making me stumble down the ramp and bounce off the… soft pavement? “Oh, forgot about that.” Videk winced sympathetically, “Our gravity is about twenty percent more than earth’s, so be careful. Falls are likely to hurt a little bit more here.”
“Would’ve been nice to know first, Videk.” I groaned, rolling myself over and sitting up, luckily the visor hadn’t fallen off; I would need to add one of those new back braces and some knee compressors to that order of stuff from home. “Do you know where the U.N. Offices are? Or should we just ask around to find our way there?”
“I do not, but you should be able to get directions on your pad. I trust the two of you can figure it out, so I’m going to go get the equipment I need. I will wait for the two of you with the shuttle once I am ready.” With a parting flap of his ears, Videk turned and walked away; flicking the tip of his tail back and forth as he did.
“Alright then,” I grumbled, forcing myself up off the pavement, swaying as I found my new equilibrium. “let’s get going. Can you pull up those directions?” She nodded slightly, flicking her ears forward. “Got them up already! You alright there?”
“I’m fine.” I grunted, rolling out my shoulder a little. “Feels like I weigh a quarter ton, but I’ll get over it with time. Lead the way.”
After a few minutes of walking we were off the landing fields and into the streets of the city. My boots sinking into the pavement a little with each step, just like on the landing field. “Taisa, what is this stuff? I figured it was just to make landings a little softer on shuttles but it’s everywhere! Looks like pavement but it gives like rubber; why are your roads like this?” “Anti-stampede concrete.” She stated, matter of factly, like that meant literally anything to me. My silence must have tipped her off that I wasn’t getting it as she focused one eye on my visor. “Oh… I guess Humans wouldn’t need that. It’s to help reduce stampede fatalities, it’s the same reason the roads and buildings have gentle curves, no sharp angles.” Looking around at the way the groups of Venlil flowed through the streets I realized she was right, what I had thought was a futuristic aesthetic design was just to keep people from killing each other against walls or trampling them into the ground when they got scared. How strange… and slightly worrying.
“Weird, that sounds like some crazy wonder material. Bet we’d have a bunch of uses for it back on earth.” My eyes watched the tips of skyscrapers towering above us, “How far out does it say we are?”
“Only a little further, about one and a half kilometers.” She responded, a slight pant in her voice. I wasn’t in the best shape, cardio wise, but I couldn’t imagine getting winded after 10 minutes of walking; guess all that talk about the Venlil having less stamina than us was right.
The U.N. Office complex was a series of giant flowing buildings built on a large park area. It wasn’t any design I had ever seen so I figured it had to have been an existing complex that just got turned over to the U.N. for their uses.
Passing through the heavy glass front doors we found a wide receptionist's desk, with several Humans sitting behind it, answering questions and directing people where they needed to go. One of the receptionists, a short dark haired woman with a visor obscuring her face, beckons us over. “Hello! How can I help you today?” “H-Hi!” Taisa beeps excitedly, her tail swaying behind her confidently as she takes a deep breath and straightens her back. “We’re part of the ‘integration’ experiments, we were told we need to fill out some forms for habitation. Where do we go to do that?” “Oh! Congratulations! That would be Suite 216-B” The receptionist answered, excitement in her voice as she pointed to a room on the map infront of her.
“Thank you!” Taisa responded, turning to head up the stairs behind the receptionist's desk. Halfway up the stairs she swiveled her ears over to me before saying. “Sorry, I figure if I’m probably going to have to work with Humans other than you for this I should try and at least work on being able to talk to them.” “It’s alright,” I chuckle, patting her shoulder. “That’s a great idea and you’re doing alright!” Walking down the hallways we saw prints of landscapes from Earth, Machu Picchu, the Uyuni Salt Flats, The Grand Canyon, YellowStone, Hạ Long Bay, The Zhangye Mountains and Plitvice Lakes. I pointed out the places I had been to as we walked past them, finally stopping at suite 216-B.
The door was open so we knocked, getting a quick ‘enter’, before stepping in. A man sits behind a desk, the top covered in organized files and folders, a placard on his desk declares his name as ‘Obediah Kamara’ with a small Liberian flag stamped beside it.
His visor obscures his face as he looks between the two of us before beginning. “I presume you are…” He sorts through a couple of the files and folders before stopping on one and opening it, pulling out a document packet. “Christopher Dewey and Taisa. Correct?”
We both respond in the affirmative as he gestures for us to take the seats across from him, sliding the documents across the table as Taisa’s pad pings on her belt. “These are agreements to ensure that you,” He starts, looking at me. “Understand the rules in regards to your habitation here on Venlil Prime. I understand that part of your integration will be taking you off world to and from Earth, these rules primarily apply to your time here. We ask that you remain considerate of the provided rules and guidelines on the ship if you are carrying Venlil passengers. Taisa, those are the terms, conditions, compensations and requirements for your family to house a human when the two of you are present. Virtual signature of that document is required within the next 3 of your ‘paws’.” Taisa stiffened a little bit, likely thinking about her Mother’s response to my arrival; that was something we were probably going to have to have a talk about later. I had an idea for the short term, at least. I ran through the paperwork real quick and it was all pretty simple: don’t be without the visor or some kind of face covering in settings where you couldn’t guarantee that an unprepared Venlil wouldn’t see you, avoid aggression, speak quietly, no eating meat, animal products or byproducts, no hunting local wildlife; bit odd considering I didn’t even have a bow or a gun but rules are rules, I suppose.
“Sounds good to me,” I said, signing the indicated portions of the document. “When are my items supposed to get here?”
“We don’t expect your requested items to arrive for another week or so, for now you’ll have to make do with what you brought with you.” Obediah responded, shuffling the packet of papers back into the folder they had come from. “With that complete you are free to go. I understand you have training to complete, so I wish you good luck with your endeavor. If you have any questions or needs with regards to your habitation you can contact Sam, their details will be forwarded to your communication devices.”
I caught Taisa’s tail twitching as her ears swiveled nervously out of the corner of my eye; even with her attempts to push through it I think the amount of Humans around was starting to get to her. Still, she was doing better than I think a lot of Venlil would be able to manage. I reached over, gently tapping my hand against her paw, trying to ground her a little before motioning to go, she nodded slightly as she flicked her ears.
“Thank you, Obediah, we’ll be sure to get into touch with them once we get their contact. Have a good day!”
Taisa and I stood, exiting the room and making our way out of the building, stopping to look at another picture or two along the way. Something needed to be done about possibly not having a place to stay to put my, and more so Taisa’s, mind at ease. I figured I could sleep in the shuttle, if I had to. It wouldn’t be particularly comfortable but I could certainly do it; I’d need a mat, maybe a sleeping bag or some blankets and a pillow.
I had no clue where I was going to get my hands on those, or at least a set of them big enough for me to actually use.
Then I saw the temporary units in the field near the offices. Men and Women in U.N. fatigues were milling about the area. Barracks? That could solve the problem, if they’re willing to help out a man in need, of course.
“Hey, Taisa, I need to make a stop real quick.” I state, walking briskly towards the largest of the buildings. “What’s up?” She asks, ears focused on me as she tilts her head a little.
“Well, I was thinking, I don’t think your parents, your Mom especially, won’t, uh… won’t want me around. At least not for a little while until she gets to know me better.”
“I think you can get past it, she’s not that bad… It’ll just be tough.”
“Oh I’m sure I can get past it, but I’d rather not just sleep in the grass in the meantime.” “I don’t think she’d make you sleep in the grass…” “I like being prepared, if she doesn’t want me in her house I’m not going to push the issue.”
“I just… I hope it doesn’t come to that, I’m not going to let her toss you outside like an animal.” She sighs quietly as we push through the front door of the barrack building.
A desk manned by a napping U.N. Marine with Private ranks stuck to his shoulders filled the space beyond the doors. He stirs as the doors clank shut behind us before scrambling to throw on his Visor as he notices Taisa.
“Hello, Uh… Can I help you? This area is for active U.N. personnel only.” He starts, his voice finding its authority only about halfway through the statement.
I stand straight, trying to muster the stern demeanor I’d found in my father and his friends so often when they tried to get something on base after their retirements. “Easy, Private. It has come to my attention that my accommodations lack proper bedding.” “O-Oh, uh, I apologize…” He stammers out, searching for something to say, likely looking to find a way out of trouble for sleeping on duty.
“Sir.” I state. “What’s your name, Private?”
“A-Alvarez, Sir.”
“Alvarez. I’ll remember that, Alvarez, how about we make this quick, you get me a wrap of blankets, 3 pillows and a bedroll and I don’t find your commander to report your… lack of enthusiasm.”
The private snaps to attention before firmly stating. “Yes Sir! I’ll be right back, Sir!”
As the private turns and walks away crisply I hear Taisa whistle with laughter a little beside me. “I’m surprised that worked.”
“You’d be surprised what a hard voice, straight back and the right slacking Private can get you if you just don’t go pushin' it too far in your story.” I whispered with a wink.
After a few minutes of waiting Private Alvarez returned with a duffle bag, stuffed full with blankets and pillows, as well as an inflatable bedroll under the other arm. “Here you go, Sir. Will this be ok?” He asked, passing the items over to me.
“Perfect, thank you Private.” I took the bundle of bedding and turned to the door, before turning my head back over my shoulder, “Oh, and Private? Do try and get proper rest before duty.”
A shaking “Y-Yes, Sir.” followed Taisa and I out of the door.
The first half of the walk back to the landing field was quiet, I was scanning the skyline again, I just couldn’t get over the fact that I was on another planet. Taisa however had her ears pinned back, her paws lightly holding her tail tuft as we walked.
“What’s got ya down?” I asked, watching the herd of Venlil glide around us as we came, trying their best not to get too close to me.
“I’m… concerned.” She sighed, the tip of her tail twitching between her paws.
“About?”
“My mother, what she’ll say… What she’ll do.”
“I can’t exactly say I know what her reaction’ll be… But, whatever it is we’ll just have to deal with it. It’ll probably take time, but we’ll get by.” I soothed. She let go of her tail, placing the tip of it on my back, but her ears didn’t let up at all.
The rest of the walk to the shuttle was quiet as she fidgeted with her paws, trying to take her mind off of the subject. Videk was there waiting for us, a few crates secured to the cargo area of the shuttle that weren’t present before.
“You two ready?” He asked, flicking his tail at us.
“I think so.” I responded, stowing the bedding in an empty compartment as Taisa flicked her ears.
We ran through our preflight checklist again, finding another pre-placed failure from Videk waiting for us, this time in the starboard control surfaces. Once the check was done we radioed the tower for clearance to take off and set an in-atmo course for Shadetree to drop off Videk. It was a short hop, about a half hour of flying or so before I had to call ahead for clearance to land again.
Most of the flight from the Capitol to Shadetree had been rolling turquoise and green hills or open fields of produce growing in the everpresent light. A sudden dense forest rose from the fields, thick dark brown trees with fluttering golden leaves stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. A sudden break in the forest revealed a clearing for the Landing field, much smaller than the one at the Capitol. The city was built under the canopy of the trees, giving it a constant filtered light casting down through the shifting leaves. It was certainly a beautiful town, I’d have to come back to visit some day. Maybe once Videk had warmed up to me a little bit more.
As the ramp fell ,a small cargo truck arrived alongside the shuttle to collect Videk and his equipment. I offered to help but the Venlil driver just about ran when I started talking so I figured it was probably best to just keep out of it. Once the cargo truck departed, Taisa came back up to the cockpit, plopping down in her seat, and looked through the viewscreen at the trees beyond. The soft hiss of the ramp closing marked the finality of Videk’s departure.
“So, how are you feeling about Venlil Prime so far?” She asked, one eye on my face as I finally slipped the visor off.
“I like it! Between the beautiful scenery, interesting architecture and hanging out with you and Shamrock, here I’m having a great time!” I responded, rubbing my hand on what amounted to the shuttle's dashboard.
“... Shamrock?” She asked, her tail swaying in what I figured for amusement.
“Yea! Remember how I told you Humans like looking for patterns? Well it works on words and numbers as well. The tail number for the shuttle could be taken to spell ‘Clover-HR-EX’, or just clover for short. Clovers are a type of plant on earth that a few cultures believed to be lucky, one way or another. One of the nicknames for them was a Shamrock!”
She laughed at me.
“You are such a dork.” She said, wiping a tear from her eye as her tail whipped back and forth. “It’s a good name, usually shuttles don’t get one. I think it fits.”
I chuckled, a thought crossing my mind. “Think we could get any shuttle-grade paint? Preferably green, yellow and black?” She raised an eyebrow at me as her ears cocked at different elevations. “Oh? Someone feeling a little artistic?”
“Well, I could always paint a Shamro-” I was interrupted as the ping signifying we were being hailed sounded off. “We’ll finish this later.” I said, pointing at her as I accepted the hail.
Videk’s voice bled through the speakers. “Ok, looks like the connection is secure. Let’s go ahead and run through getting you familiar with the software, it should be quick and easy.”
It was not.
It took two hours. After a lot of trial and error, stop and go flights to test the connection and a few near misses with an especially tall tree we had gotten the system setup such that Videk was confident it would work in an emergency if he needed to step in. With that all squared away Taisa and I settled in to get on our way to Heartwood River. Sleeping on the blow up mattress or on a real bed hardly mattered at this point, I just wanted to sleep.
The overall flight time was set to be about an hour and a half, not too bad and man was the view beautiful: rolling fields, roaring rivers, pristine skies and alien forests abounded across the countryside. We had just passed over Hidden Plains when Taisa and I were just settling back into talking about her parents and our best route to try and handle them, when the hail system chimed and immediately spat out a harsh tone without acknowledgement, the same one the simulator used for distress calls.
“Mayday Mayday Mayday. Report of shots fired at residence housing humans. Need immediate medical evac at The Berrypatch Farm in The Grove, 11 minutes Night-ward from Hidden Plains. Hailing all airborn craft, we need a medical evac immediately!”
I immediately returned the hail. “This is cargo shuttle C1-0V3R-HR-EX. Responding to Mayday from the Grove. We are en-route to render aid. Hold tight, we’ll be there.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Taisa tighten her flight harness as I reached for the throttle.
---
First Prev. Next

St. Jerome, 393 AD: Men Should Not Marry
St. Jerome (AD 347 – AD 420) was one of the most prolific of the early Christian theologists. His main accomplishment was the translation of the Bible into Latin, an important part of the crumbling Roman Empire’s conversion to Christianity. He is frequently ranked among the likes of Augustine, Ambrose, and Gregory the Great as one of the original Doctors of the Church.
Although Christianity has a long history of supporting holy matrimony, St. Jerome was vehemently opposed to the idea of marriage. In my opinion, his condemnation goes too far; he claims furthermore that all sexual contact is inherently sinful and unclean, and urges chastity for all people. It is worth noting that he engaged in much sexual hedonism and debauchery as a young student in Rome, so he at least speaks with experience, if only to reject that lifestyle. Nevertheless, his dissection and critique of marriage and male-female relations remain supremely insightful.
(His advice could be applied to softer relationships too, for the same dynamics and drawbacks are present, albeit in lesser form. Where he says “marriage,” one could easily replace it with “LTR,” and “wife” with “girlfriend.”)
He lays down his reasoning in a book written in 393 AD, Against Jovinianus. An extremely well-learned man, Jerome brings up many quotes, anecdotes, and famous figures from the Classical world. Here are the original sources for these excerpts if you want the whole picture.

Theophrastus’ Golden Book of Marriage I feel that . . . I have said far more than is customary in illustrating a point, and that I might be justly censured by my learned reader. But what am I to do when the women of our time press me with apostolic authority, and before the first husband is buried, repeat from morning to night the precepts which allow a second marriage? Seeing they despise the fidelity which Christian purity dictates, let them at least learn chastity from the heathen. 

Even back then, women were quick to move on with their (love) lives, and marriage vows held little sway.

A book - On Marriage - worth its weight in gold, passes under the name of Theophrastus. In it the author asks whether a wise man marries. And after laying down the conditions that the wife must be fair, of good character and honest parentage, the husband in good health and of ample means, and after saying that under these circumstances a wise man sometimes enters the state of matrimony, he immediately proceeds thus: “But all these conditions are seldom satisfied in marriage. A wise man therefore must not take a wife. For in the first place his study of philosophy will be hindered, and it is impossible for anyone to attend to his books and his wife. Matrons want many things: costly dresses, gold, jewels, great outlay, maid-servants, all kinds of furniture, litters and gilded coaches. Then come curtain-lectures the livelong night: she complains that one lady goes out better dressed than she; that another is looked up to by all; ‘I am a poor despised nobody at the ladies assemblies.’ ‘Why did you ogle that creature next door?’ ‘Why were you talking to the maid?’ ‘What did you bring from the market?’ ‘I am not allowed to have a single friend, or companion.’ She suspects that her husband’s love goes the same way as her hate. 

God, those complaints sound word-for-word like what you’d hear today. Things just don’t change.

There may be in some neighbouring city the wisest of teachers; but if we have a wife we can neither leave her behind, nor take the burden with us. To support a poor wife, is hard; to put up with a rich one, is torture. Notice, too, that in the case of a wife you cannot pick and choose; you must take her as you find her. If she has a bad temper, or is a fool, if she has a blemish, or is proud, or has bad breath, whatever her fault may be – all this we learn after marriage. Horses, asses, cattle, even slaves of the smallest worth, clothes, kettles, wooden seats, cups, and earthenware pitchers, are first tried and then bought; a wife is the only thing that is not shown before she is married, for fear she may not give satisfaction. 

I’ll admit that it is now easier than ever to “try before you buy,” but even so, a woman has incentive to hide her flaws and stay on her best behavior until you’re invested and committed. In any case, you’d still have to do a lot of sifting to find one without any major faults.

Our gaze must always be directed to her face, and we must always praise her beauty: if you look at another woman, she thinks that she is out of favour. She must be called ‘my lady,’ her birth-day must be kept, we must swear by her health and wish that she may survive us, respect must be paid to the nurse, to the nursemaid, to the father’s slave, to the foster-child, to the handsome hanger-on, to the curled darling who manages her affairs, and to the eunuch who ministers to the safe indulgence of her lust; names which are only a cloak for adultery. Upon whomsoever she sets her heart, they must have her love though they want her not. 

But she say he just a friend!

If you give her the management of the whole house, you must yourself be her slave. If you reserve something for yourself, she will not think you are loyal to her; but she will turn to strife and hatred, and unless you quickly take care, she will have the poison ready. 

Poisoning is harder to get away with these days, so they use divorce papers instead.

If you introduce old women, and soothsayers, and prophets, and vendors of jewels and silken clothing, you imperil her chastity; if you shut the door upon them, she is injured and fancies you suspect her. But what is the good of even a careful guardian, when an unchaste wife cannot be watched, and a chaste one ought not to be? For necessity is but a faithless keeper of chastity, and she alone really deserves to be called pure, who is free to sin if she chooses. 

In other words, mate-guarding is useless, and a woman who is faithful only out of fear of consequences or of losing you is not truly pure at heart. She can still mentally undress anybody she wants.

If a woman be fair, she soon finds lovers; if she be ugly, it is easy to be wanton [i.e. promiscuous] It is difficult to guard what many long for. It is annoying to have what no one thinks worth possessing. 

If nobody’s buying her goods, then the price of entry goes down. But since most men value sexual exclusivity as much as sexual attractiveness, then so does the value. It’s a vicious cycle, but what’s a plain woman to do to snatch a high-value mate?

But the misery of having an ugly wife is less than that of watching a comely one. Nothing is safe, for which a whole people sighs and longs. One man entices with his figure, another with his brains, another with his wit, another with his open hand. Somehow, or sometime, the fortress is captured which is attacked on all sides. 

Jerome notices that there are many ways to stimulate a woman’s lust. Wealthy noblemen, lanky musicians, sly conmen, brutish warriors, and stern rulers all enjoy sexual success in exchange for what their lifestyles have to offer.

Men marry, indeed, so as to get a manager for the house, to solace weariness, to banish solitude; but a faithful slave is a far better manager, more submissive to the master, more observant of his ways, than a wife who thinks she proves herself mistress if she acts in opposition to her husband, that is, if she does what pleases her, not what she is commanded. 

Then, as now, men had the same fears and faulty reasoning in pursuing relationships with women.

But friends, and servants who are under the obligation of benefits received, are better able to wait upon us in sickness than a wife who makes us responsible for her tears (she will sell you enough to make a deluge for the hope of a legacy), boasts of her anxiety, but drives her sick husband to the distraction of despair. But if she herself is poorly, we must fall sick with her and never leave her bedside. 

Notice he uses the word “sell” to describe the woman’s crying and pleading for children (i.e. a legacy). Jerome had enough experience with women to see through the long con.

Or if she be a good and agreeable wife (how rare a bird she is!), we have to share her groans in childbirth, and suffer torture when she is in danger. 

Even if she does her best to make your life easy, a good woman still needs much support, protection, and care. Proceed at your own risk.

Then again, to marry for the sake of children, so that our name may not perish, or that we may have support in old age and leave our property without dispute, is the height of stupidity. For what is it to us when we are leaving the world if another bears our name, when even a son does not all at once take his father’s title, and there are countless others who are called by the same name. Or what support in old age is he whom you bring up, and who may die before you, or turn out a reprobate? Or at all events when he reaches mature age, you may seem to him long in dying. 

Many of my grandfather’s friends raised incompetent sons, despite being hardworking and conscientious themselves. As a result, they’ve had no support from their offspring in their old age. It is always a gamble, even if you do right by your family.

Friends and relatives whom you can judiciously love are better and safer heirs than those whom you must make your heirs whether you like it or not. Indeed, the surest way of having a good heir is to ruin your fortune in a good cause while you live, not to leave the fruit of your labour to be used you know not how. 

This is probably a big, big factor in how the children of good men become spoiled. They know a great inheritance is in the works, plus they’ve had every want and need fulfilled since their parents were so successful at providing, so where’s the children’s incentive to work hard themselves and pay back the favor? For those same reasons, a wife can be spoiled the same way your children can.

Examples Showing Why Men Should Not Marry When Cicero - after divorcing Terentia - was requested by Hirtius to marry his sister, he set the matter altogether on one side, and said that he could not possibly devote himself to a wife and to philosophy. Meanwhile that excellent partner, who had herself drunk wisdom at Tully’s fountains, married Sallust his enemy, and took for her third husband Messala Corvinus, and thus, as it were, passed through three degrees of eloquence. Socrates had two wives, Xantippe and Myron, grand-daughter of Aristides. They frequently quarreled, and he was accustomed to banter them for disagreeing about him, he being the ugliest of men, with snub nose, bald forehead, rough-haired, and bandylegged. At last they planned an attack upon him, and having punished him severely and put him to flight, vexed him for a long time. 

I find it interesting that St. Jerome pointed out Socrates’ ugliness as the reason for his wives abusing and disrespecting him. I guess looks do matter.

On one occasion when he opposed Xantippe, who from above was heaping abuse upon him, the termagant soused him with dirty water, but he only wiped his head and said, “I knew that a shower must follow such thunder as that.” 

Socrates had another quip, something along the lines of “If you marry a good wife you will become happy; if you marry a bad one you will become a philosopher.” At least he had a sense of humor about it all.

Metella, consort of Lucius Sulla the Fortunate (except in the matter of his wife) was openly unchaste. It was the common talk of Athens, as I learnt in my youthful years when we soon pick up what is bad, and yet Sulla was in the dark, and first got to know the secrets of his household through the abuse of his enemies. 

To put this in context, Lucius Sulla was one of the most successful generals and leaders of Rome. He sacked Athens, captured Rome to end a civil war, became dictator, and reinstated the Roman Senate. He was declared by none other than Machiavelli as having the prime attributes of an effective leader – cunning like a fox, courageous like a lion. Apparently all this had no bearing on his wife’s fidelity.

Pompey had an impure wife Mucia, who was surrounded by eunuchs from Pontus and troops of the countrymen of Mithridates. Others thought that he knew all and submitted to it; but a comrade told him during the campaign, and the conqueror of the whole world was dismayed at the sad intelligence. 

Pompey could be considered a successor of sorts to Sulla. As a young military commander, he was wildly successful, ruthless, and bold. He became consul of Rome at age 35, an unprecedented feat attributed to his popularity. All this was still not enough to inspire his wife to remain true. They divorced after Pompey learned of her frequent adultery during his military campaigns.

Cato, the Censor, had a wife Actoria Paula, a woman of low origin, fond of drink, violent, and (who would believe it?) haughty to Cato. I say this for fear anyone may suppose that in marrying a poor woman he has secured peace. 

A poor woman will not be automatically appreciative of your relative wealth, and make only modest demands of you. She will still want everything you have to offer. Just as you want her sexual best – and nothing less – she will want your provisional best – and nothing less.

When Philip, king of Macedon, against whom Demosthenes thundered in his Philippics, was entering his bed-room as usual, his wife in a passion shut him out. Finding himself excluded he held his tongue, and consoled himself for the insult by reading a tragic poem. 

Even kings are made to sleep on the couch. Sing it with me: “Who run tha world?”

Gorgias the Rhetorician recited his excellent treatise on Concord to the Greeks, then at variance among themselves, at Olympia. Whereupon Melanthius his enemy observed: “Here is a man who teaches us concord, and yet could not make concord between himself, his wife, and maid-servant, three persons in one house.” The truth was that his wife envied the beauty of the girl, and drove the purest of men wild with daily quarrels. 

How do you keep multiple girlfriends happy? Make each one secretly believe she’s number one.

Whole tragedies of Euripides are censures on women. Hence Hermione says, “The counsels of evil women have beguiled me.” In the semibarbarous and remote city Leptis it is the custom for a daughter-in-law on the second day to beg the loan of a jar from her mother-in-law. The latter at once denies the request, and we see how true was the remark of Terence, ambiguously expressed on purpose – “How is this? Do all mothers-in-law hate their daughters-in-law?” 

A mother often understands her son’s wife/girlfriend better than he does – that hatred means something.

We read of a certain Roman noble who, when his friends found fault with him for having divorced a wife, beautiful, chaste, and rich, put out his foot and said to them, “And the shoe before you looks new and elegant, yet no one but myself knows where it pinches.” Herodotus tells us that a woman puts off her modesty with her clothes. And our own comic poet thinks the man fortunate who has never been married. In all the bombast of tragedy and the overthrow of houses, cities, and kingdoms, it is the wives and concubines who stir up strife. Parents take up arms against their children; unspeakable banquets are served; and on account of the rape of one wretched woman Europe and Asia are involved in a ten years’ war. 

I am not sure what war Jerome is referring to here, maybe someone with better history knowledge can chime in.

We read of some who were divorced the day after they were married, and immediately married again. Both husbands are to blame, both he who was so soon dissatisfied, and he who was so soon pleased. Epicurus the patron of pleasure (though Metrodorus his disciple married Leontia) says that a wise man can seldom marry, because marriage has many drawbacks. And as riches, honours, bodily health, and other things which we call indifferent, are neither good nor bad, but stand as it were midway, and become good and bad according to the use and issue, so wives stand on the border line of good and ill. It is, moreover, a serious matter for a wise man to be in doubt whether he is going to marry a good or a bad woman. The Snares of Marital Love; Chastity Recommended to Women Aristotle and Plutarch and our Seneca have written treatises on matrimony, out of which we have already made some extracts and now add a few more: “The love of beauty is the forgetting of reason and the near neighbour of madness; a foul blot little in keeping with a sound mind. It confuses counsel, breaks high and generous spirits, draws away men from great thoughts to mean ones; it makes men querulous, ill-tempered, foolhardy, cruelly imperious, servile flatterers, good for nothing, at last not even for love itself. For although in the intensity of passion it burns like a raging fire, it wastes much time through suspicions, tears, and complaints: it begets hatred of itself, and at last hates itself.” The course of love is laid bare in Plato’s Phaedrus from beginning to end, and Lysias explains all its drawbacks – how it is led not by reason, but by frenzy, and in particular is a harsh gaoler over lovely wives. 

Jerome is talking not only of oneitis, but of pure lust as well. Both can lead to a man’s downfall. In both cases, sexual jealousy can rear its ugly head. But if a woman wants to cheat or branch-swing, there is virtually nothing you can do to stop her from acting on that desire, or from having the desire in the first place. And if a woman does not want to cheat or branch-swing, then jealousy is useless and can only damage your standing in the relationship, perhaps leading to a self-fulfilling prophecy. And all the while, your feelings of rage and inadequacy only cause you psychological harm. That said, I completely understand the natural tendency to become jealous. It is probably an evolved, instinctive response to being cuckolded or losing reproductive opportunity, which would’ve been useful to avoid wasting resources and to keep your genes in the gene pool. But if sex is all you’re after – and the women you sleep with fulfill your sexual desires – then what do her other lovers matter to you? Sure, STDs are a concern, but if it’s your goal to sleep with multiple women, you’re already exposing yourself to considerable risk.

There is nothing blacker than to love a wife as if she were an adulteress. Men who say they have contracted marriage and are bringing up children, for the good of their country and of the race, should at least imitate the brutes, and not destroy their offspring in the womb; nor should they appear in the character of lovers, but of husbands. In some cases marriage has grown out of adultery; and, shameful to relate! men have tried to teach their wives chastity after having taken their chastity away. 

I think this speaks to the hypocrisy of men expecting women to enjoy having sex, but only with them and no one else. If a woman likes wine, would she only drink chardonnay? If a woman likes country, would she only listen to Carrie Underwood? Likewise, if a woman genuinely enjoys sex, why would her tastes be limited to just one man?

Marriages of that sort are quickly dissolved when lust is satiated. The first allurement gone, the charm is lost. 

Relationships based on attraction alone do not last, simple as that. You actually have to be compatible as people – if that’s possible between a man and woman. You both need enough self-control and motivation to overcome your straying impulses. Men must check their desire for polygamy, and women must check their desire for hypergamy. Otherwise, the relationship will become exploitative on one side or the other, or dissolve entirely.

What shall I say, says Seneca, of the poor men who in numbers are bribed to take the name of husband in order to evade the laws promulgated against bachelors? How can he who is married under such conditions be a guide to morality, teach chastity, and maintain the authority of a husband? 

Even then, men were compelled to marry and place themselves under the yoke. Remind me again how Marriage 1.0 was such a good deal? Ain’t a damn thing changed.
Summary: St. Jerome, one of the most influential figures in early Christianity, warned of the follies and dangers of marriage, and advised wholeheartedly against it. Even during Marriage 1.0, women often ruled the relationship. Famous philosophers, powerful rulers, and charming orators were unable to keep their wives in check. Jealousy and mate-guarding are useless to prevent cheating, they can only help a man to walk away from potential cuckoldry and abuse. It is paradoxical to expect a woman who enjoys sex to only desire it with you. Conversely, it is irrational to expect a chaste woman to act like your own personal whore.
Do not marry for sex or love, because the relationship will crumble when mutual attraction fades. Marrying to have kids is also foolish, because you don’t know how they will turn out or whether they will actually support you in your old age. Ultimately, it is impossible to know for certain beforehand if a woman will make a good or bad wife, so it is wisest to avoid the risk altogether. DO NOT MARRY.