11/20/2017
Log book of Det. Ryan Snow
Case #2798: The Appalachian Murders
When I woke up, I was in such a haze that I couldn’t make out where I was at first. My vision was a blur and all I could hear was the sounds of rushing water. I tried to move my limbs, but each muscle down to my little finger felt like lead weighing down on me, making it hard to breathe.
It felt like forever before the ringing in my ear was slowly swallowed out by a voice crying out from what sounded like a distance only to grow louder as it seemed to approach me from the void I had woken up in. It wasn’t until I heard my name that I recognized it was Kate’s voice, pleading and filled with tears.
I blinked away the blur, finding myself staring up at a water damaged ceiling, a single yellow light brightening the room. My head was pounding and my body still felt heavy, but I moved my head enough to turn and see where Kate was calling from. It took a moment, but I soon realized that she was lying on her back, strapped by her arms and legs to a metal table, looking to me with wide terrified eyes.
“Detective, please help!” She cried out. “Please don’t be dead! Please help me!”
“Bl-Black…Well…” I groaned out as I tried, painfully, to pick myself up off the stone floor, “Black…Well… Ah… Shit… Shit! Ms. Blackwell-“ I was gaining consciousness minute by minute as I finally took in the situation and got to my feet. However, the moment I had gotten to my feet and began running to Kate only to immediately fall back to the floor once again, my ankle getting caught by something heavy. I turned to see my ankle had been shackled to the floor by a cuff and chains. I searched my person to find my coat, along with my Glock had been taken, blood decorating my pants and sleeves. I placed a palm to my forehead to find blood when I lowered it down to look at the warm liquid slithering down from my scalp.
“Ms. Blackwell,” I returned my attention to her, examining what I could from my place on the floor, “are you alright, are you hurt?”
“I… I… I don’t… Don’t think so…” she managed to whine out.
“Where’s Mr. Raines?”
To this question, Kate looked away from me, sobbing being her only verbal response.
I went back to the shackles on my ankle and began trying to yank the chains off from the floor, but they had been well maintained and were too strong for me to simply yank out of the stone. I then quickly looked around the room to find we were in a different basement from the one in Cabin #3, though it had the same kind of layout, the table the only major difference. I also took note of the blood stains that trailed from the sides of the table and the dried pools below.
“I want my mom!” Kate cried out, her voice echoing in the empty room.
“I’ll get you to her, I will, I promise,” I assured her, trying to find something, anything to get us out of this, “do you remember how we got down here?”
“I… I… I just re-remember… Remember you g-getting knocked out… Knocked out by someone and them… Them putting a rag over me… Then everything went black… Then I woke… Woke up… H-Here…” Kate answered, trying to breathe with each sob she let out. “I… I th-thought… y-you… You were d-d-… Dead!”
“I’m not, I’m very much alive and I’m going to get you out of here and back to your parents,” I vowed as I continued looking for a way out of this situation, “we’re going to get you out of here, get you home, and we’ll make sure no one ever gets hurt here ever-“
The sound of the basement door from the splintered wooden steps cut me off. I listened as feet descended down the steps to the basement below, Kate’s ragged breaths the only other sound. The person who came down was a woman. The same exact woman from the photo I had found in her house. She looked as if she had not aged since that photo was taken, despite how long ago it seemed the photo was taken. She had the same exact long, white hair, same tired looking eyes, and same disgustingly pale skin as in that photo and on her profile picture. It was Mrs. Larson.
“Deeeeeetectiiiiiiive,” she spoke in a hoarse voice mixed with what I assumed was her own and several others, both male and female, adult and child, “youuuuuuu shouuuullld haaaaaaaaave juuuuuuusssssst giiiiiven herrrrrrr toooooo meeeeee… Youuuuuuuu diiiiiiiiid nooooooot haaaaaave toooooooo ssssssseeeee thiiiiiissssss…”
“Fuck you!” I shouted, beginning to charge at the elderly woman only to be yanked back by my shackles. “Let us go, right now!”
“Nnnnooooo,” Mrs. Larson replied harshly as she stepped over to loom over Kate.
“Stay away from her!” I barked, trying desperately to break free of my shackles.
She ignored me as she ran a shaky hand down along Kate’s trembling face. “Ooooooooohhhhh, Kaaaaaate… Sweeeeet, sweeeeeeeet, Kaaaaaaaaaate…” Mrs. Larson cooed as she went on stroking Kate’s wet cheek. “Doooooo noooooooot crrrrrrryyyyyyy, dooooooonnnnnn’t thiiiiiiiiiinnnnk oooooofff iiiiiiiit aaaaaaaassssss dyyyyyyyyiiiiinnnnng, thiiiiiiiiinnnk ooooooooffff iiiiiiit aaaaaassssss ssssssssaaaaaaaaaviiiiiiinnng aaaaaannnnoooootherrrrrrrrr liiiiiiiiife.”
“I-I… I d-don’t… Don’t under-understand… w-what th-that… That m-means…” Kate cried, her hands gripping the sides of the metal table beneath her, “P-Please, d-don’t… Don’t kill me… L-Let… Let us-us go!”
“Nnnnnoooooo,” Mrs. Larson answered in the same harshness she used on me, “IIIIIIIII neeeeeeeed youuuuuuuuuu,” she then shot a death glare my way through tired, silver eyes, “aaaaaaaannnnnnd heeeeeeeeee’ssssssss beeeeeeeeeennnnnn nnnnnnnoooooooothiiiiiiiiinnnnnng buuuuut aaaaaa thooooooorrrrrrnnnn iiiiiiinnnnn myyyyyyyyy ssssssssiiiiiiiide siiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnccccccce youuuuuu eeeeeessssssscaaaaaaped meeeeeeee.” She then looked back to Kate with a softer look. “Aaaaaaaassssss fffffoooooorrrrr whaaaaaaaat youuuuuuu caaaaaannnn’t uuuuuunnnnnnderrrrrrssssssstaaaaaaannnnnnd, IIIIIIIIII nnnnnneeeeeeed yourrrrrrrrrr heaaaaaaaarrrrrt tooooooo ssssssssaaaaaavvvvvvve myyyyyyy ssssssiiiiiiiisssssssterrrrrrrr.”
“The fuck does that mean?” I demanded, still trying to vain to pull my ankle from the chains. “How the hell will Kate’s heart save your sister?”
“Diiiiiiiiidnnnnnn’t nnnnnnneeeeeeed toooooo beeeee Kaaaaaaate’sssssss,” admitted Mrs. Larson, “buuuuuuuut sssshhhhhheeeeee hiiiiiiiiid theeeeee ooooooootherrrrr giiiiirrrrrrllllll ffffffrrrrroooooommmmm mmmmmeeeeee.”
“S-Son… Sonja…” Kate sniffed, the tears still streaming down her face.
“IIIIIIII oooooooonnnnnlllllyyyyy neeeeed fffffffeeeeeemmmmmaaaaallllle,” Mrs. Larson dismissed Ms. Greymoore’s name, “ffffffeeeeeeemmmmmaaaaaallllle heaaaaaaaarrrrrrrtsssss toooooo rrrrrrreeeeeetuuuuurrrrrrnnnnn mmmmmmyyyyy ssssiiiiissssssterrrrrrrrr toooooo theeeeeeee giiiiirrrrrllllll ssssshhhhhheeeee uuuuuuuusssssed tooooo beeeeeee.”
“That’s a fucking joke right?” I asked. “The hell makes you think eating a female heart will turn your sister back into a human woman? Have you seen what’s happened to your sister?”
“IIIIIIIII knnnnnnnooooooow beeeeeeecaaaauuuuusssssse iiiiiiiiiiit wooooooorrrrrked ooooooonnnnn mmmmmeeeeee,” Mrs. Larson explained, “IIIIIIIIIII waaaaaasssss aaaaaaablllllllle toooooo reeeeeeetaaaaiiiiiinnnnnn thiiiiiiiiiisssssss huuuuuummmmmmaaaaaannnnn fffffffooooorrrrrrmmmm ffffffrrrrrooooommmm eeeeeaaaaatiiiiiinnnnnng theeeeeeee heaaaaaaaaarrrrrtsssss, sssssspecifffffficaaaaaaallllllyyyyyy fffffffeeeeeemmmmmaaaaallllleeee sssssssooooooo IIIIIIIIII mmmmmmaaaaaayyyyyy rrrrrreeeeetuuuurrrrrnnnnn toooo beeeeeiiiiinnnng theeeeeeee giiiiiirrrrrrrllllll IIIIIII uuuuuuusssssed toooooooo beeeeeee.”
“You were dead,” I pointed out, “they found your body up here, you were buried.”
“Theeeeeessssssse sssshhhhheeeeeellllllsssss arrrrrrre mmmmmeeeeeerrreeeellllyyy veeeeeessssssellllllssssss ffffffoooooorrrrrr theeeeeeee sssssspiiiiirrrrriiiiiitsssss weeeee hiiiiiiiiiiide beeeeeneeeeaaaaattthhhh,” Mrs. Larson responded, finally turning her gaze to me, “IIIIIIII haaaaaaad tooooooo maaaake peeeopllllle beeeelieevvvve IIIIIII haaaaaad diiiiiiied tooooo keeeeeep frrrrroooommm theeeee poooooollllliiiiicccce ffffrrrrrrooooommmm pooookiiiiiinnnng aaaaarrrrouuuuuunnnnd aaaaannnnnd rrrrruuuiiinnnnniiinnnng eeeevvvveeerrrrryyythiiiiinnnng.”
“So, let me just get this whole thing straight,” I began as I started rubbing my temples, "when you and your sister starting into… Whatever the hell that thing you call your sister is-“
“Ooooouuuurrrrr sssssspiiiiiirrrrrriiiiiit,” Mrs. Larson corrected.
“Whatever!” I shot. “You found out that eating female hearts turns you two back into human women and to keep police from suspecting you, you pretended to be dead and… What? Just hope a shitty real estate agency would buy your property and you could just… Kill people, people with lives and families outside the mountains?”
“Thaaaaaaaat iiiiiiisssss cooooorrrrrreeeeect…” Mrs. Larson admitted, narrowing her eyes at me.
That’s when I began laughing hysterically, holding my sides that hurt with each harsh breath of a laugh I took. Both Mrs. Larson and Kate looked to me as if I had lost my mind and at this point I was starting to believe I had. Everything I had seen and heard about this entire case would put anyone in the looney bin. And I’m the damn fool who dug too deep into something he had nothing to do with.
“Whaaaaaat’s ssssoooo ffffuuunnnny?” Growled Mrs. Larson, stepping around Kate to stand between us.
“I don’t know what’s fucking funnier, honestly,” I chuckled, running a hand through my hair, “the fact that you thing people won’t be poking around even more when they discover not only is Blackwell missing, but so is a detective and escaped convict all of whom now have ties to these fucking mountains and those cabins, or that you thing I’m more afraid of what you plan on doing with me more than I am when her father finds out I got her in this situation in the first place!”
“Heeeeeee wooooonnnnn’t beeeee aaaaabllllle toooooo doooo aaaaaannnnnyyyyythiiiiiinnnng aaaaaaafffffterrrrrrr IIIIIIIII’mmmmm dooooooonnnne wiiiiiiiith booooooth ooooooooffffff youuuuuuuuu,” Mrs. Larson hissed as she inched closer, “fffffffiiiiiiirrrrrrssssst, IIIIIIIII waaaaaannnnnt youuuuuuuu toooo waaaaaatch mmmmmeeeee kiiiiiiillllll herrrrrrr,” she turned her head to look to Kate who was now just shaking, her eyes seemingly gone dry from the crying, Mrs. Larson then looked back to me, “sssssseeeeecooooonnnnd, IIIIIIII wiiiiillllll ssssssaaaaave youuuuu fffffooooorrrr mmmmmmyyyyy sssssiiiiiisssssterrrrr, oooooonnnnne heeeeaaaaart wiiiiilllll nnnnoooot ssssssaaaaaatissssfffffyyyy herrrr huuuuuunnnnnger.” She took another step. “Uuuuuuuunnnnnllllliiiiiike sssssssoooooommmme ssssssiiiiiibllllliiiiiiinnnnnngsssss, IIIIIIIII caaaaaarrrre aaaaaaboooouuuuut mmmmmmyyyyy ffffffaaaammmmiiiiilllllyyyyyy.”
She stared into my eyes, expecting a reaction and while my blood did somewhat boil at the accusatory statement, I didn’t fully understand what she was getting at. Not until she used that voice. Not until she relived that day with those two familiar child-like voices.
“Screw you, Liam!” She cried out in a voice I remember from my childhood. “I hope you drop dead!”
“Stop.” I demanded.
“Piss off, Ryan!” She shot back in a second boy’s voice.
“I said stop!” I began shouting.
“Help me, Ryan! Please, help me! I’m sorry! Please, Lucky Dime, help me!”
I then lunged toward her, reaching my hands out toward her neck only to be stopped by the shackles as she swiftly, almost without even moving, stepped just out of my reach.
“Fucking bitch!” I screamed out.
“If only you really cared about me, Lucky Dime,” sighed Mrs. Larson as she turned and began making her way to the side of the room where a cart stood in the shadows. She pulled it over to Kate’s side, the cart covered in rusted medical tools.
“P-Please,” Kate wheezed, “p-p-please… I… I d-d-don’t w-want… Want t-to d-d… D-Die, I… I w-w-want m-m-m… My m-mom!”
“Dooooonnn’t woooorrrrryyyyy,” Mrs. Larson soothed, using that mix of different voices, “mmmmmmaaaayyyyybeeee sheeee wiiiillll cooooommmme loooookinnnng ffffooooorrrr yooouuuuu aaaaannnnnd sheeeeeee caaaaannnnn joooooiiiiiinnnn youuuuuuu.”
Kate began to sob, begging and pleading for Mrs. Larson to let her go, thrashing around in her restraints. Telling the older woman that there was no saving her sister and that she was too far gone for this sick ritual to work anymore. I tried to yank at the chains once more, trying to loosen it at least enough to break free and grab at Mrs. Larson.
“Rrrrrrreeeeellllllaaaaax,” Mrs. Larson ordered as she began filling a syringe with some kind of clear liquid from a small bottle, “yoooouuuuuu woooooonnnn’t eeeeeveeennn fffffeeeellll iiiiiiit, thiiiissssss wiiiiiillllll puuuuuut youuuuu toooo ssssssllllllleeeeeep aaaaaannnnnnd wheeeeeennnnnn youuuuuu waaaaaake uuuuuuuup, youuuuuuu’lllllll beeee iiiiiinnnnnn heeeeeaaaaaaveeeennnnn… Uuuuuunnnnnnnllllllessssss youuuuuuu weeeerrrrrrre aaaaaa haaaaaarrrrrlllllooooooot, iiiiiiinnnnnn whiiiiiiiich caaaaaassssssseeeee, mmmmmaaaayyyy Goooooood haaaaaaaave mmmmmmmmerrrrrrrcccccyyyyy ooooonnnnn youuuuuur ssssssoooouuuuullllll… Aaaaannnnnd baaaaaaasssssed ooooonnnn hoooooow youuuuuu drrrrressss aaaaannnnnd theeeee coooommmmpaaaannnnyyyy youuuuuu keeeeeep,” She added as she eyed me, “IIIIIII ssssssaaaaaayyyy youuuuu haaaaaave aaaaa lllllloooooot ooooooffff fooooooorrrrgiiiiiviiiiinnnnng tooooo dooooo.”
Kate continued to cry as Mrs. Larson pushed the needle of the syringe into her arm, pushing down on the plunger as it pierced the flesh. Kate’s loud screams soon turned quieter and her red eyes began to glaze over, but she continued to stay awake, tightening her grip on the table and still begging to be let go.
“IIIIII waaaaannnnt youuuuu toooo waaaaatch, Detective,” Mrs. Larson spat out my title in Mr. Blackwell’s voice, “IIIII waaaaannnnnt youuuuu toooo waaaaatch herrrrrr fffffaaaaaade aaaaaannnnnnd mmmmmeeeee rrrrreeeemmmmooooove heerr heeeaaaarrrrrt toooooo ffffffeeeeeed tooooo mmmmmmyyyyyy ssssssiiiiiiiissssssterrrrrr,” she then pulled out a recorder, “theeeeennnnnn wheeeeeennnnn IIIIIII ssssssuuuuummmmoooooonnnnn herrrrrrr aaannnnd sheeeee fffffiiiinnnniiiishessssss oooooofffffff heeeerrrrr heeeaaaaarrrrrt, youuuuuuu’llllllll beeeeee neeeeeext.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled, “I hope you and your sister burn.”
“IIIIIIIII’mmmmm gooooonnnnnaaaaa gooooo aaaaallllllerrrrrrt mmmmmyyyyy ssssssiiiiiiissssterrrrrr,” Mrs. Larson turned and began making her way to the basement steps, “ssssseeee youuuuu boooooth ffffffoooooorrrr diiiiiinnnnnnerrrrrrr.”
She then pressed the play button on her recorder and a small, little girl’s voice echoed in the room before Mrs. Larson vanished up the steps.
“I’m here… I’m here… I’m here…”
Then the door slammed shut.
“De… Tec… Tive…” Kate squeaked out, her breathing slowing.
“Stay awake, Blackwell,” I ordered her gently, looking around frantically for anything to get us both out of this alive, “I’ll get us out of this, I promise, just stay awake, we’ll get out of here, I just need-“
“I’m… S… Sorry…” she breathed out. “I’m… So… Sorry… For… Get… Getting… You… In… To.. This…”
“No, no, this is not your fault!” I assured her. “That psychotic bitch got us both into this shit and I won’t stop until I get us out and put her and her fucking sister are six feet under!”
“W…Wha… What… H… Hap… Happened… To… To L… Liam…?”
I stopped struggling with the chains and turned to look to Kate. Her head was turned to me, her face wet, hands clenching as hard as they could to the table beneath her, the light in her eyes slowly fading second by second. She was trying desperately to stay awake. The medication Mrs. Larson taking hold of her as the minutes ticked by.
I dropped the chains that were in my hands, looking away from her, wanting to stare at anything other than another person I had failed.
“He was killed,” I answered, “we were fishing at a lake nearby… Lake Gaagige… We got into a really stupid ass fucking fight about how which fishing pole we were going to use. I wanted to use our dad’s, but Liam was older and said only men could use dad’s fishing pole… I told him… To drop dead and stormed off… When I got home, my parents dragged me back to the lake and scolded me for leaving him…” I trailed off, swallowing all the tears and screams I’d bottled up since that day. “When… We found… Him… The autopsy… Said he was mauled by a bear… I’ve blamed myself for leaving him there alone… For letting him die and getting killed like that… The last thing I ever told him was to drop dead… I was a shitty brother and now I’m a shitty detective…”
“Is… Is he… Why… You became… A… Detective…?”
I took a deep breath and swallowed the tears again. “No, Blackwell,” I answered, “he’s not why I became a detective… I already knew what had killed him… It was my fault… If I hadn’t been such a brat and stormed off… He might still be alive… And now… What that bitch said…” I replayed Liam’s screams that escaped Mrs. Larson’s mouth. “I’m starting to think I’m getting what I deserve. Karma’s back to kick my ass…”
“H… How… Old…?”
“I was six… Liam was eight…”
“N… N… Not your… F… Fault…”
I turned to look to Kate, her eyes on mine, however faded.
“Y… You were… Only… A k… Kid…”
I took another intake of what little air there was down in that basement. I had spent years trying to convince myself of the same thing, but those moments never got easier for me when those thoughts returned.
“I think you’re just being nice,” I laughed painfully, “but I’m afraid I- and my folks- don’t share the same sentiment.”
I was staring down at where the chains were coming from in the ground, Kate not saying a word for over a couple of minutes. I spun to see if she had fallen asleep and immediately tried to find out how to wake her up again. However, once I our eyes met, I saw that she was still fighting sleep, the last of her tears rolling down across the bridge of her nose and into her hair.
“I… I… I had… Had a c… Crush… O… On… J… Jasper…” she confessed, her voice getting quieter and higher. “P… Paul and… And Son… Sonja knew… I never… Never c… Cared f… For Luke… But I’m… Sure… S… Sonja t… Told him…” she looked like she was going to sob again. “I… I never g… Got the… Ch… Chance… T… To tell J… Jasper… I… Was… Scared… He… He and… P… Paul were friends… And I… I kn… Knew… How P… Paul f… Felt… A… About m… Me… I… I did… Didn’t wa… Want to… R… Ruin… Anyth… Anything…” She took a gulp of air. “I… I ha… Hated L… Luke… I… A… Always… Kn… Knew… He… He was a… Player… B… But Sonja… Said… Said she was hap… Happy… So… So I did… Didn’t wa… Want to g… Get in… H… Her way… B… But Luke d… Didn’t l… Like h… How cl… Close… We… Were… I d… Didn’t w… Want him to make… Make her th… Think I… I was l… Leading her o… On… T… To get them… To b… Break up… Th… Then… That n… Night… Sh… She w… Wanted to… To leave…” She let out two pained gasps of breath. “I… I let them down… I let them all down… Luke pro… Probably thought… Thought I w… Was the one who… Who f… Filled Sonja’s mind… With thoughts of… Of him ch… Cheating… Th… Then I… I got them… All killed…
I… I didn’t deserve them, d… Detective…” she went on, looking away from me to stare up at the water damaged ceiling, “I… I… I was a… Terrible… Terrible friend…”
“Did you read their guest book entries?” I asked.
“N… No… D… Didn’t w… Want to… To r… Read any… Anything p… Private…” Kate answered.
“Jasper didn’t blame you,” I assured her, remembering what he had written in his entry during his time watching Mrs. Larson just outside the cabin, “even when he heard the voices- when he heard Mrs. Larson- telling him to, he didn’t. I don’t think the others blamed you either. You didn’t do anything wrong, Ms. Blackwell, there’s no way you could have known any of this would happen.”
“K… Kate…”
“What?”
“C… Call… Call me… Kate…”
“Aright, Kate,” I let out what little laughter I had left inside me, “so long as we’re the last people we’ll be chatting with, call me Ryan.”
“R… Ryan…”
“If we at all live through this, I’m going to need a long vacation after this,” I said as I turned to look at my shackles again, looking around myself to try finding anything to Get free since a vacation sounded like something to die for at that moment, “do you know any good vacation spots I can book for the fall?”
“Y… You’re… You’re a… Dick…” Kate struggled to laugh.
“I also enjoy pineapple on pizza,” I winked as I reached down to my ankle, ready to break it just to taste that sweet combination of tomato sauce and fruit.
“G… God… I… I c… Can’t… Believe… I th… Thought y… You w… Were c… Cute…”
I sat down on the floor, grabbing my ankle with both my hands. Needing to hype myself up enough to do what I was going to do, I began removing my shoe and sock from the foot, rubbing and squeezing my way up and down the ankle to my toes. I had never broken a bone in my life before this and I definitely never thought I’d do it of my own volition, but this was a desperate time and it definitely called for desperate…
“Wait what?” I turned to look to Kate, finally registering what she had said.
However, just before I could be sure of what I heard, the sound of a hunting rifle going off just above our heads right before we heard the door to the basement swing open and immediately be slammed shut. Both Kate and I turned to see someone stumble down the wooden steps, his clothes torn and body scratched and cut to a nearly deadly degree. I was even shocked he was still breathing.
“M… Mr… R… Raines…?” Kate gasped out.
“What’s left of me at least,” Mr. Raines grumbled as he limped over to Kate and quickly began undoing her straps to the table, “damn thing almost ripped my head off, but one swing of the barrel to its eye and I was able to get away… Can’t say it didn’t do its damage though… I’m… Getting really fucking hungry…”
He shook his head violently before limping over to me. He then raised an eyebrow at me when he saw how I was positioned still on the floor with a bare foot in my hands shackled to the floor.
“I… I was… I… I thought you were-“ I stammered.
“I am,” Mr. Raines interrupted, “at least, I’m on my way there anyway.” He then retrieved my Glock from his back pocket. “I don’t know what that thing did to me, but I’m not gonna make it out of this alive, or the way I came in. It’s a massacre out there by the way. Lot of men in blue bodies out there… Very… Hard to ignore… Sure more will be on their way. So.”
With that, Mr. Raines pointed at my chains and pulled the trigger on my clock, barely giving me time to cover my ears as the sound rung out loudly in the basement. I shook my head, trying to undo the blurry and ringing side effects of the sound of a gun going off near your head. I gave the older man a glare before standing and snatching my Glock from his hands. That’s when I saw Kate shifting herself to the side of the metal table she was no longer tied to, trying to get her limbs to comply with her to help her off and on to the floor.
I ran over and grabbed her just as she nearly stumbled face first to the floor and lifted her up to her feet, her body heavy with lack of keeping herself up.
“Do you think you can walk?” I asked, trying to keep her on her feet.
“I… I don’t… I…” Kate stammered as she tried to push herself off of me while also using using me as a crutch until she could stand on her own. However, she didn’t seem to be able to put any kind of pressure on her legs without falling down.
“Kate?” A girl’s voice called out from above us.
Feeling Kate shudder, I realized that it must have been the sound of Sonja’s voice and Mrs. Larson was using her to keep Kate from running. I quickly swung my arm down behind her knees, pressing the other down on her back as I lifted her up off the floor, my Glock at the ready as I kept it pointed in front of me while my arm held up Kate’s knees.
“She must have heard the gunshots,” I pointed out, “how’d you get past her in the first place?”
“I set the other cabins on fire,” Mr. Raines answered as if it were the simplest of answers, “I had to distract her somehow and give those bodies she’d been eating a better fate than becoming her shit.”
“Are you planning on setting this place on fire too?” I asked.
“‘Course I am!” Mr. Raines exclaimed, seemingly offended I’d even ask. “I already doused it in gasoline, I ain’t wasting all that time!”
“Kate!” Sonja’s voice cried out, getting closer to the basement door. “Are you seriously leaving me here to die alone again!”
“Please… Make it… Stop…” Kate sniffed as she gripped my shirt and burying her face into the fabric.
“Let’s get you two out of here.” Mr. Raines began leading the way to the basement stairs, cocking his rifle as he did so.
“What about you?” I asked, immediately following after him.
Mr. Raines didn’t answer as he stomped up the stairs and kicked the door open to the first floor of the cabin. The stench of the gasoline he had spilled hitting me harshly in my face.
“Kate!” Sonja’s voice, along with a different crescendo of male voices shrieked out as Mrs. Larson appeared from the corner of the hallway where the basement was located.
“Leighton?” A different woman’s voice asked the moment the old woman’s eyes spotted Mr. Raines. I then watched in both shock and confusion as it almost looked like the very skin on the woman melted off to reveal a much younger woman. The woman I recognized as Bonnie Collins. “Leighton… Love is that you?”
Mr. Raines kept his rifle on the vision of the woman he once loved before her murder, but didn’t move or speak.
“Darling, I’ve missed you so much!” The fake Bonnie cried out as she began making her way to Mr. Raines with arms open wide to hug him.
Mr. Raines then lifted his gun up higher, placing his finger on the trigger which caused the vision to stop in her place.
“Leighton?” The fake Bonnie asked. “Baby, it’s me… Bun-Bun… Don’t you recognize me…?” She began to tear up.
“You’re not my Bunny,” Mr. Raines growled before he shot once at the woman.
The fake Bonnie swiftly dodged the bullet, an inhuman hiss coming from an unhinged mouth, revealing a row of long, sharp teeth. The skin of Bonnie then melted off to reveal another woman, a lot younger than the first one it intimidated. The face of one of the victims upon being brought on this case.
“Kate,” the fake Sonja called out, “Kate, what are you doing? Who are these men? Why are they trying to hurt me?”
Kate let out a sobbing gasp, her nails digging into my shoulder with her arm wrapped around my neck.
“Didn’t I suffer enough?” The fake Sonja asked. “First my boyfriend and now you? Why don’t you want to be with me anymore?”
“Shut up!” Kate demanded. “You’re not Sonja! You killed her, you killed all of them! I don’t care what happens to me, but I’m not letting their memories end with you!”
Kate then snatched my Glock from my hand under her legs and shot directly at the fake Sonja’s head. Again the shot missed as the fake vision of the girl slithered out of the way, a frustrated growl of a dog and human escaping it’s mouth. It then zipped to the side, cowering with its back to us on the floor.
“Lucky dime…” A child’s voice then took over. The vision’s skin melting now to a much smaller figure. “Is this what you want? To kill me all over again?” He turned to look up at me, Liam’s face forever eight-years-old staring up at me. “It’s no wonder mommy and daddy hate you now… You were always a shitty brother… Now, I’m gonna starve to death because you’d rather help a couple of strangers.”
“I’m sorry, Liam,” I replied, everyone, including the fake Liam looking to me in surprise, “I left you alone out here and that’s what got you killed by that thing out there and I’m sorry. But, if I’d stayed it may have been both of us and then mom and dad would have no one left to blame but each other. If you had left and I was the one killed, you’d probably be in my shoes instead. I’m sorry for letting you get killed, but I’m gonna make up for it now.”
I then took my Glock back from Kate and pointed it to the vision of Liam.
“Good bye, Liam.”
I shot the gun once again, missing the creature again, however, this time I just kept shooting, Mr. Raines following after. Our different bullets just kept firing, the thing dodging and trying to get closer to us. The creature screeched out at us in a myriad of different voices both familiar and unknown. It wasn’t until one shot from my Glock struck the creatures shoulder and Mr. Raines’ rifle struck its head when the skins of everyone it was trying to turn into all melted off, revealing Mrs. Larson once again.
However, this time, she looked shriveled, older than she looked before. Her face looked deformed, beginning to grow furry, her eyes growing nothing but red, no irises, no pupils, just red. Her hair grew longer, branches like antlers growing painfully out from her skull, breaking the skin as they grew larger. The lower half of her face grew elongated, turning into that of a muzzle of fangs and a drooling mouth.
“You… All… Have no rrrrrrriiiiiight!” A different, unknown voice snarled out from what used to be Mrs. Larson. “People liiiiiike you all… Abandoned me and myyyyyyyyy sister!” The fur growing around this thing grew out short and shaggy, the cloths it was using melting off with the skin and flesh it was wearing. It now didn’t look anything like a human woman. It now took the form of a large wolf mixed with that of a deer, it’s body dog-like with hooves, antlers, and a long, scraggly tail. “You lot abandoned us here! You left us all here to diiiiiiiie!”
Guilt was weighing down on me with each syllable it was growling. Kate looked away from it, burying her face in my neck as Mr. Raines lowered his rifle.
“Nooooow, you’re bringing more here to just leave and let die out here!” It went on, it’s horrifying, broken body shuddering. “Why let them just vanish and die up here when they can bring people like my sister and I back? Give me Kate’s heart and fix what you threeeeeeeeee failed!”
Mr. Raines then handed over his rifle to Kate, placing it down on her stomach as her hands were still wrapped around my neck. The older man made his way over to stand over the thing, its neck creaking like a rusted door as it turned its wolf-like head to look up at him.
“Leighton…” Bonnie’s voice came from the creature. “Give mmmmeeeee her heart aaaannnnd we can be togetherrrrr again… If you eat the deeeeeetective’s we can saaaaaave you tooooooo…”
“My Bunny’s dead,” Mr. Raines told it as he dug in his pocket and took out a carton of matches, “and so am I.”
“You’d burn your wife?” A mix of Bonnie and Mrs. Larson’s voices shrieked as it glared at the match he took from the match box.
“You’re not my wife,” Mr. Raines told it, “and I’ll never see her again.”
“Fooooooool,” Mr. Larson’s voice chuckled, “you’llllllll killllllll us both!”
“With the shit I’ve done in my life, I know you’re taking me to Hell with you,” Mr. Raines growled back as he struck the match on the box, “so I’m sure as fuck not afraid to burn here on Earth with you!”
Mr. Raines then dropped the match to the floor right before the creature and everything around the two of them immediately went up in flames, the fur of the creature catching quickly and engulfing it. An agonized shriek echoed out all around us, the creature thrashing in the fire it had gotten swallowed up in. Mr. Raines then grabbed it by it’s long, furry throat and swung it down back flat the floor, jumping to pin it down.
“Get out!” Mr. Raines cried out to me. “Leave here!”
Not needing to be told twice, I held onto Kate tightly and bolted past the two burning bodies, jumping over the fire as it began growing fast throughout the cabin. I quickly got to the front door and stopped to look back to see Mr. Raines fighting the creature and preventing it from coming after us, it begging for me to bring Kate back and that it would die without her.
“I’ll clear your name,” I called back, trying not to reel back in horror as I saw Mr. Raines skin begin to melt off, “I’ll let people know you didn’t kill Bonnie!”
“I’ll let people know you didn’t… Kill… Liam!” Mr. Raines’ voice called back, him thrashing around with Mrs. Larson as he said my brother’s name in my voice.
I turned back and kicked the front door open, rushing Kate out of the burning cabin. I ran until I got far enough from the smoke, turning back to see all three cabins now on fire, the area around them all ablaze. The only place untouched was Mrs. Larson’s house, all the evidence remaining. I could hear sirens in the distance coming closer. The sounds of shouts from the surviving officers sounding much closer.
“I’m here… I’m here… I’m here…”
I looked to the front porch of Mrs. Larson’s house where her recorder continued to call out for her sister. I set Kate down at the base of a nearby tree and ran to snatch the recorder, shutting it off. I searched around, looking for any signs of Prudence, but it appeared that the fire and the sounds of sirens and voices had scared her off. I ran back to Kate, her eyes closed and her not responding to me calling to her, but after checking her pulse and breathing, I found that the medication Mrs. Larson had given her had finally taken over and she was now fast asleep, the rifle Mr. Raines gave her still sitting on her rhythmically rising and falling stomach.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I leaned against the same tree I set Kate down on and slid down to the ground next to her. The first two cabins were already practically nothing but ash, the last still blazing as I heard the slowly fading screams of Mrs. Larson and Mr. Raines coming from inside.
When the screaming ended all together, the smoke turning blacker as it rose from the flames, I got to my feet and took out my pack of cigarettes as I approached the fires, staying far enough away not to get burned. I opened the pack up before stopping myself as I reached for one of the ten remaining cigarettes inside. I then flung the entire carton into the fires without taking one.
“Save one for me down there, you old bastard,” I told Mr. Raines before making my way back to Kate’s side.
It wasn’t long before the remaining officers found us, looking in confusion at the fires and to me with a sleeping victim in a homicide case on the ground. I told them we’d need to call an ambulance for Kate and that we needed to keep the flames from getting to Mrs. Larson’s house as it held evidence on the case. One officer retrieved his radio and called for an ambulance while a group ran to the house and another went to try controlling the fire as best they could by yanking out any bushes near by and throwing them away from the area around the house.
Luckily, the fire trucks were called long before the fire spread too far, residence noticing it practically the moment Mr. Raines set the first cabin on fire.
As I sat there, keeping Kate held up against the tree we sat under, I listened to the crackling of the fire, the sirens of fast approaching fire trucks and the ambulance, and the sounds of distance, coyote, almost human, howling.

I know all of you like to tell your scary stories, I like them too. Way back when my voice was still high-pitched I knew a man who told the scariest stories you'd ever hear, well he wasn't a human exactly, but he sure was a man. A good man by estimation, but you can be the judge of that. See, my mama used to live way down in the rural bits of Texas. Ain't nothing much down there 'sides toads and mosquitos. Fireflies would light up the night sky, and once in a while you'd see a couple eyes comin' up from the water. We lived in a small house, a bedroom, a kitchen, nothing special, but nothing shameful neither. It was just me and mama, papa left a long time ago, mama says he was out on the lake and got eaten by one of them gators. I believed it, he was always drunk and on a tear. He'd go out into the reeds until they got as high as his head. He was big a fella, too. That man'd go out there and throw meat to the alligators, meat my mama said we couldn't afford. And he'd come back scratching from the mosquitos and what else was in those high reeds. He'd stumble into the house and fall asleep somewhere round the door.
None of that may seem wholly pertinent, but it will be, just give it some time. I was outside one evening, mama was asleep. Mama was a hard sleeper, I think she grew up by a train track - Chicago she said, mama was a city girl that came out to the country to raise a big family. It was just me though, I never asked why, but it was always just me. It was a gorgeous evening, the ones you see in those little photo booklets that advertise how beautiful the town is. Fireflies dotted the sky, and a big yellow moon lit the whole way down to the lake. As much as a lake as you could call it, the critters sure did like the water. Bugs, frogs, gators, big and little fish; you could stick a net in the water and be sure something'd be stuck in there.
So, I walked throught the reeds, taking little chunks off the ones nearest me so I could find my way back. It was just a straight walk, but you try walking in a straight line when you're blind. You'll end up going in a circle - I think that's why they say we have a circulatory system. As I'm just near the water, pullin' reeds, and swattin' mosquitos, I see a kid with a lantern, about my height. The lantern was half the size of his body, big flame in the middle of glass, the orange waves danced and flickered lighting everything it touched, and casting shadows where it didn't. The kid beckoned me too him: "Hey, come here" he said. Well, it wasn't a kid, it was a very adult voice. "Little person" I thought, that's what they liked to be called. Just the same I didn't feel too comfortable approaching a man I didn't know.
"Come here, it's all right." And he beckoned again. Something about him, seemed - familiar. I didn't need much convincing, I headed over to him, and he gestured with his hand for me to sit. I sat, and he sat beside me. Wasn't much of a man either, he had a bulbous yellow eyes that searched around and never found anything. Big lips, red splotches just about everywhere. He was fat too, well not quite fat, but somehow, inflated. He was barefoot, and smelled like old hamburgers. I breathed through my mouth, and waited for him to speak again.
"I've got tell you a story about that house you're living in" he said. He paused, just waiting for it to sink in. Somewhere I was livin'. Now, I loved my house, and I loved my mama, but there weren't nothing worth telling a story about there. And everyone in town knew about papa, so it couldn't be that.
"Just me and my mama here" I replied, shifting a bit on the dirt as the small tide lapped close to my sneakers, the shadows from the lantern playing on the water. I had my eyes fixed on the water, always expecting a couple of eyes and a big alligator mouth.
"Just hold on there, I've been around this place a long time, I might know something you don't." He waited again, his eyes whirling, and his hands shuffling around the dirt, like he was lookin' for something on either side.
"Okay, go ahead then."
"There's a woman in that house, sometimes thin, sometimes big. Sleeps heavy, talks about the trains in Chicago"
"That's my mama"
"It is?"
"yes sir"
"She good to you?"
I hesitated. Mama was good, but she was rough sometimes. Sometime she'd get sick, and, well, irrational. She'd yell about how people in the house tryin' to talk to her, wanted to 'get' her. Eventually she'd tire herself out, and then she was a sweet mother then. Cooked the best beef stew you'd ever had, I never had any other beef stews, but her's was real good all the same: "yeah, she's good" I said.
The little man waited again, then continued on: "Well, maybe I'm talkin' about another woman. I couldn't know, your mama seems a wonderful gal."
"Tell me the story" I said. My fingers were tapping on the ground, along the dancing shadows, under that big yellow moon. I could hear the plop of a fish flying out out of the water and right back in. That siren eek of a mosquito came by my air and I shooed it away. And I looked at the water, where it was lit by the flame I could still see the little man. His eyes still whirling, his hands still digging.
"Well, some woman lived in that house. And she had a husband, handsome fellow, maybe a little too hard on the bottle, but he got done what needed to be done. For years the two of them would talk about havin' kids, and it just never happened, well almost never. Don't worry - I'll get to that. Now I want go too into the details because you're so young, but boy did those two try. And sometimes, like woman do when they're ready to become mamas, she'd get nice and big. Then she'd get thin again. Now, her husband was confused to say the very least. His wife'd cry, say the child was taken by the Lord, and they'd continue on about their lives, alone, in that little house by the lake. But funny enough how God works, like a miracle, when they were at their saddest - plenty would come in. See, the woman had a sister from the city who'd send her big packages full of meat and she'd make that meat into a nice stew. Sometimes they even had a little extra, you know what they'd do with it?"
I paused, I knew, I heard the stories. "He'd go throw it to the alligators"
"You're right, he'd throw it right to the alligators, now I don't know if gators can taste spice, but if they can they're mighty tough. That stew was always filled with the habaneros and all sorts of chilis, something you gotta stop and sweat for every few bites. Not those gators though, they'd gobble them right up. I'll tell you though, one day those two did have a child, handsome one too. Fuzzy brown hair, and cute as all get out. Looked' something like you matter of fact. Named him Matthew."
"My name is Matthew" I knew what was going on, I did, and I felt something like fear and something like comfort. Knowing just who this man was saying he was.
"Is it? Well, that can't hardly be a coincidence. I'll tell you something though, Matthew, I lied earlier in the story, I s'pose I should go ahead and tell you the truth."
"What's that?"
"Well, you already figured out, wasn't too hard, that's your mama I'm talkin' about, and yes, I'm your papa. I'm sure you figured that out too. I know I don't look like much not after you know what happened, but I didn't die. I've been living around this here lake since you was born. Your mama says she don't want me back in the house account of how I look. I don't blame her, but it sure is frustrating." there was some rustling in the reeds behind us, and the croak of some old frogs - they always sounded old to me at least.
"And that meat, ain't no packages from Chicago, I don't think Carol ever lived in Chicago, maybe she did, but I never heard from anyone there. And there wasn't so much as a picture to prove it. Those was those little miracles from the Lord. Yes I'd put one in your mama, we'd wait a few months, and we'd have ourselves a nice meal. The first one really was a miscarriage, and we were hungry, so we tried just a bite. Maybe we were both a little too much on the whisky, but we were very hungry. And boy - it tasted good. Best meat I'd ever had. And as long as I could keep fishin' by that lake I could give your mama the energy she needed to make that delicious beef stew."
I got up as fast as I could muster, I tried to run, took a few good strides, and then felt arms on my shoulders, locking me in place, and shoving me down onto the floor. I squirmed and screamed: "Let me go, no!" I cried, and I hollered, but it was no use. It was my mama, she straddled me with her legs, and pinned my arms down so I couldn't move a muscle. She smelled like those old hamburgers. And she smiled the sweet smile she always smiled when she was in one of her better moods.
"We waited a bit longer with you, wanted you to be nice and ripe, and now I think you're ready. Don't you think he's nice and ready, Carol?"
Mama took one hand off me, whipped it behind her back, and pulled out a big kitchen knife. She held it in front of me, and I could say my eyes in the metal, tears were rolling, and my face was red and screaming. Can't say I'd been that scared since.
"Carol, darlin', before we make our meal, how bout' we kiss like we used to. It'd be nice for him to see what a happy family looks like"
"Kiss you?" Mama spat. "You ugly little drunk, not even the alligators would want to kiss your mouth. Last one tried to kiss you spat you right out. I ain't want nothin' to do with that."
"Darling, I missed you."
"I didn't miss you, I ain't lettin' you back in the house neither. You think I can't find another man? Just past this lake I've got a hundred suitors just waitin' to take a gal like me. Bet they have big cocks too, not like your little pecker."
That was enough for papa, He ran right toward mama, I don't know how he did it with those whirlin' eyes, but he did it. He came and pushed mama right off me. I started crawling away as quickly as I could. Papa bit her and mama let out a big yelp: "Fuck!" she screamed; mama didn't cuss much 'less she was real mad. And boy was she real mad. I crawled into the reeds and hid there, lookin' through to see what was gon' happen.
She stabbed him, right in his arm when he tried to block her form his stomach. Big nasty gash, blood running everywhere, a little brown, a little green, but still mostly red. But he kept just goin' kickin' and bitin'. "I'll kill you!" she screamed and slashed, and they both yelped and hollered.
Then, I swear, he started hummin' a little tune, sounded like a nursery rhyme, and the water started to bubble, and I saw two big eyes out of the water, and then that mouth, and a big gator came right up. whappin' his tail, snortin' and groanin' in that way gators do. Bit mama on the leg, and started draggin' back to the water, mama screamed, and kicked, but that gator hung on. Bit up on her thigh, boy was she bleeding, strips of meat, and bone cracked and split. That gator dragged mama right down into the water. There was some splashin' and the gators back would come up and then back down into the water, and occasionally I heard a gurgly scream, but before I knew it the whole thing was over.
My papa sat there, I have to say, even then I felt a bit bad for him. "Son come out of those reeds, I promise I ain't gonna eat you no more."
I came and sat by papa and papa started hummin' again. I started to get up, but he put his hand on me. "Don't worry, she ain't gon' hurt you. I just gotta go away for a while."
The alligator came back on to the land and papa sat right down on her back, she crawled into the water until just her back and his upper body were above the water. "I gotta go son, I'm sorry. One day we might see each other again."
I didn't say a word, what was there to say? I met my papa, and he tried to eat me, now he wasn't, and now he was riding an alligator. So, I just nodded, and secretly hoped that maybe I wouldn't see him again.
And then off he went across the lake until I couldn't see him no more, haven't seen him since either. I went back to the house, and I'll tell you, I heard those voices my mama used to hear, too. But they wasn't mad at all, they was saying thank you. I think those are my brothers and sisters, and I think they thought I did something right. I whispered, "Don't thank me, thank papa, he saved us after all." And then, I'll tell you, nobody ever heard those voices again.

Chapter 1: Hope’s 16th Birthday
As the rays of the sun hits her eyes Hope Moonshine wakes up excited, she was waiting for this day for all her life
She jumps out of her bed and rushes to her mom's room excited and she accidentally flung the door open too fast making a loud cranking noise waking her mother, Queen Matilda up
"Oops didn't mean to wake you up" hope said awkwardly"Honey I know you are excited for your birthday but you need to be patient the sun has just risen everyone is still asleep" Matilda said tiredly, "please go back to sleep darling you will have a long day today and you will need the energy, your party wont be begin till noon"
"Ok mom, sorry for waking you up" said Hope as she was trying to close the door slowly enough that it doesn't crank but it still did "Not an issue dear", said Matilda
As the door closed Matilda took a deep breath and closed her eyes her emblem on her right shoulder a pink diamond glowed she opened her eyes and she made a finger gun with her right hand pointing at the hinges and a shiny pink light zaps comes out of her index and zaps the hinges, the beam turns into a hand and it open the door and then closes without making a cranking noise, "I should have done that a long time ago" said Matilda
She removes the blankets from her bed to reveal she is already clothed for a serious occasion, as she goes towards the mirror she is wearing a long cyan dress that trails all the way to her feed her top being smartly tight with short shoulder sleeves, she puts on long white gloves and glances over her diamond ring she lets out a small sigh and frown and puts it on, she trances over the mirror for a few seconds before snapping out of it, and she looks over to a miniature painting of her an her daughter when she was 6 she picks it up and smiles "I know you are eager dear you won't have to wait for long"
After Matilda ready's herself she open her window and conjures a light bird of the palm of her hand, the bird flew off to Hope's room where it sees her lying in her bed on her stomach, the bird soon returns to Matilda's room and land on her palm her eyes glows for a moment and the bird fizzes into a yellow cloud, "Well it looks like she actually listened not very common of her to do so, it means I can continue to do my plan unobstructed" she said with a smile.
Matilda leaves her room and walk across the hallway to the main hall then she claps her hand twice, and snap her finger, suddenly a figure jumps into the window it spins 180° and a muscular women stands up, she has a scar on her left cheek and short brown hair, she wore knight armour that cuts of at her shoulder emblem that looks like a dark grey shield.
"At your service my queen", she said with a salute
Matilda is startled for a moment, but then composes herself, "Sally there is no need for you to enter that way you can just wait for me at the hall entrance", she said.
"I was scouting the perimeter we have to make sure this place is safe and to make sure no one can harm the princess at her important day, I was up all night with my team searching every corner of the upper ring for any danger and-" Sally was abruptly cut off by Matilda.
"It was not your fault Sally, there is no need for you to prove yourself to me" Matilda said remorsefully, "You tried your best so you must eventually forgive yourself it wasn't anyone fault, it truly came from nowhere"
Sally's serious expression break into expression of regret as she shamefully looks at the ground
"Now is not time to punish ourselves over who we failed to protect but to make sure my daughter has a great birthday" Matilda said with determination
Sally's expressions of regret turned to a smile, "Yes my Queen, me and the royal guards have spent last few weeks clearing a safe path from the upper ring to the more presentable areas of the lower ring that ends at the great barrier" Sally says with a salute.
"Well I trust your judgement, you are now dismissed" said Matilda
Sally goes down the stairs of the central hall towards the doors "I won't mess up again" Sally said with determination
"Oh Houston" Matilda said while turning her head left and right, "where is he when I need him",
"I am right here your majesty" Houston whispered from behind, Matilda was startled and was annoyed on how everyone seems to sneak up on her, "Sorry for spooking you" said Houston as he polished his monocle "We are well prepared to begin celebration soon" he said as his hand pointed towards the empty hall.
Matilda stared at him, he then clapped his hands and an army of servants entered the hall setting up the chairs and tables, followed up by waiters quickly setting food on the table, and then 6 waiters came together to slowly lift the large 4 layered birthday cake with a milk white colour with chocolate cream on top of each layer, with "happy birthday Hope" spelled with strawberry topping on the side of each layer, with the glowing yellow number "16" candle at the top.
"As I was saying my Queen" Houston started "We just need to wait for the guests to arrive, I will let you know when you can call your daughter" Houston stops from a moment "Do you want anything else your majesty or am I dismissed?" he asked.
"You are dismissed Houston" said Matilda
Matilda walks up to Hope's room and slowly opens the door to find her laying in her bed
"One thousand one hundred and forty-two" Hope counted to herself, she paused and took a deep sigh, and tried to continue but then paused scratching her head "Um One-".
she was interrupted by her mother saying "Thousand one hundred and forty-three", "Unable to sleep dear?" She said with a smile, Hope gasped and she had the biggest smile in her face, her mother was a bit startled and asked "what is it you are smiling at?".
Hope pointed at her, jumped from her bed and as she was taking heavy breathes pointing at her mother clothes, "You don't sleep in this" she takes a deep breath and exclaims "which means I have got to get ready" and she runs to her closet to pick up something to wear.
Matilda takes a glance down at her clothes and rolls her eyes "so much for a surprise"
"I am ready mom" Hope said ecstatically, she was wearing a beautiful turquoise dress which complemented her hair colour styled in two plates with with joined with a pink band and wearing her favourite golden necklace,
"That was quick" her mother commented
As they enter the main hall a bunch of guests are seated drinking beverages and helping themselves to freshly baked foods, "Attention everybody, I would like you to welcome the birthday girl" said Houston, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads towards the princess.
She gets a bit nervous and let out an awkward "hey guys", she didn't recognize any of them but she had to pretend to know all of them while hoping they don't ask her if she knows them, they all continue to stare as she and her mother get seated.
Houston lets out a forced cough to break the awkward silence, he says "and now Princess that you have come here you may blow the candles", the table the cake was on was carried towards Hope and her mother seated on there high chair, Hope tries to mask her excitement as she takes a deep breath and gently blow the candles, which fire off the cake and make a small explosion spelling out "Happy Birthday Princess!", Hope's eyes lit with joy.
Trumpets play and two royal servants come into the hall holding a gold plated chest decorated with diamonds, the chest is slowly opened and a blinding bright light shined from inside it, "Go ahead dear" said Matilda as her eyes pointed to the chest.
Hope goes down towards the chest and slowly lowers her hand inside of it and grabs what inside, as she removes her hand from the chest it reveals her to be holding the magic wand, it had a purple handle with a sparkly cyan diamond at its back end and a translucent turquoise sphere at it top decorated with a white glowing shape which resembled the combination of a two star into two different planes inside, and topped off with a small yellow crown at the top
Hope's shoulder emblem a pink heart with a tiny crown on top of both curves starts glowing, she raises the top of the wand at eye level, "ooh what's this" she says as she tries to stick her finger inside it to touch the spinning star
"HOPE DONT" shouted her mother, as soon as hope touched it burnt her finger and she let out a painful screech and fires a yellow glowing beam fires from the wand at some guest who were quick enough to duck, it hits a glowing orange decorative plant crushing it against the wall,
"hehe this could have been worse", Hope said awkwardly, the wreckage catches fire...
"FIRE" yells Sally, the guards that were standing by the walls quickly moved and shoved away all nearby guest as Sally goes and faces the fire here shoulder emblem glows and she fires yellow beam at it from her hands she then she clenches her fist and the beam turns into water extinguishing the fire and a yellow cloud evaporates from it, she quickly turn over to Hope and rushes over to her "ARE YOU OKAY PRINCESS" she exclaimed worryingly.
"I am fine it's just my finger is a little -" before she finishes her sentence Sally picks her up and running with her in her arms and runs up to the door and out of the Palace.
Queen Matilda is left with the guests and lets out an awkward chuckle and says "so who wants some drinks?", "Please help yourself to the finest wines in the whole kingdom" she said as a servant reveals a bunch of wine bottles in gold coating, the guests all rushed to get a sip
"I am telling you I am fine it's just a little scratch its rude for me to leave suddenl-" Hope was interrupted by Sally kicking the door open.
"PA-" Sally yelled before being interrupted by a "SHHHH", she was shushed by a woman with a white robe that cut offs at the shoulder, and a hand crafted necklace made of cotton around her neck, she had red hair tied into a bun and a green plus sign as her shoulder emblem.
"Seriously Sally how many times do I have to tell you to be quiet in here" said healer Pam with frustration she lets out a sigh and asks, "So what seems to be the problem?" Sally pulls out Hope and holds her at arms length right Infront of her Hope lets out a "Hi".
Pam gasps "Oh my princess sorry I didn't know you were coming, are you hurt?"
"No not at all it's ju-" Hope was interrupted yet again it seems like although she is becoming a grownup no one seems to want to listen to her
"She burned herself quickly check up on her" commanded Sally as she lowered Hope to her feet, Pam glanced at her up and down
"Where was she hurt", asked her confused. Hope sheepishly pointed to her left index finger it was a bit red which could be easily seen as it contrasted with her smooth white skin, but it was also accompanied by a yellow 'liquid', Pam conjured a white napkin to clean the site of the injury and singled out the injured finger from Hope's hand and put her hand on it and made into a fist and then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes her shoulder mark started having a green glow for a few seconds and then it suddenly went dim, she opened her hand to find the finger fully healed like it was never even scratched.
"Oh wow t-thanks" said Hope with a smile.
"Oh it's nothing" said pam, she took out her napkin it had some yellow glowing spots of what looks like fluid except its it didn't soak in but floated around it, "I see you can use magic now, what was your first spell" Pam said with excitement.
"I-i just shot this out of the wand" she said as she pointed at liquid on the napkin that started evaporating considerably, she then lowered her voice and talked faster "and it hit a plant and set it on fire" she was saying as she looked at the floor, Pam laughed and Hope was starting to blush.
"Oh don't worry dear we all mess up at the start, when I first started I accidentally broke a boy's arm" Pam said with a laugh.
"Is he okay now?" Hope asked with curiosity
"Well when I was your age healing wasn't what it is today they just put his arm in a cast and said if he was lucky his arm would be usable in three years", "I never was interested in healing like my mom but I wanted to fix my mistake so I studied and practiced for months to focus my healing and one day it just clicked, I got back to him and I was able to heal his arm and this happiness a patient feels when they are treated makes this all worth it" she let out a calm sigh and continued "It was not an easy journey but in just 8 years I was able to reach my peak"
"Eight years?" Hope said in disbelief
"Don't worry your path is way longer than mine my peak is at least four levels lower than you" Pam said with a grin
"It isn't that huge difference right?" Hope inquired hoping her journey wont be in the double digits because that's a very long time
Pam laughed and then said "Oh it way larger than it looks, but don't worry royals don't have a peak at least not one that one knows off" she put her hand on Hope's shoulder "Don't let the long road overwhelm you as long as you are better than yesterday you will be a great princess"
Hope smiled at her and said, "Thanks a lot Pam"
"So is everything alright with her, she stuck her finger into the wand are you sure there wont be any complications" asked Sally
"She will be alright she might have lost her finger if she went deeper and then It will actually a challenge to fix, but this is what pain reflexes are for, it a blessing in disguise", replied Pam
Sally clapped her hands and said "Well we got to go now we cant keep the guests waiting thanks for your help Pam"
Hope looked over to her and said "You should come over it's my birthday you can go change the setting", "No dear being a Healer is big commitment what if someone is in need of assistance and I am not here but I appreciate the gesture, maybe I could arrange my schedule to be there next time, go enjoy yourself".
"Pam the amputee is ready for his second regeneration session" a voice called.
"The what?" exclaimed Hope.
"Oh it's a bit graphic you really don't want to see it, I got to go now send your mother my regards" replied Pam as she ran over to a patient
Sally and Hope went to the door and left.
"You know I was really fine, it was just a scratch" Hope said as she looked up to Sally, "It's kind of rude to just leave the guests hanging I could have just sucked it up-"
Hope tried to continue when Sally muttered under her breath "I won't forgive myself".
"What was that?" asked Hope.
"Nothing, it's just you can never be so sure and no one was stupid enough to stick there finger in the wand I was just making sure but since it wasn't serious we don't need to worry" Sally said with an anxious fake smile, Hope sensed there was something off about her tone but she didn't want to push Sally into an uncomfortable spot so she left it at that
Sally and Hope make it back to the palace and Matilda rushes to her daughter "Oh dear are you ok"
She said as she gave her girl a hug, Everyone was staring and Hope got a bit embarrassed "yeah Mom I am ok" Hope said, Matilda stood up and was about to say something before Hope pre-emptively said, "I know I know it was pretty stupid from me to to do what I did, I know the wand is not a toy and I promise I will be more careful with it" she said while avoiding eye contact
Matilda smiled and said "Well I appreciate that you understand that you messed up but that not what I wanted to say" Hope made eye contact and Matilda continued "As princess and future queen we will have you visit the LOWER RING" Matilda took her daughter's hand "Sure its not the safest or best place in the kingdom but a hermit ruler is a bad ruler"
Hope got extremely excited over this as she always wanted to see the rest of the kingdom the Lower ring, the Outer ring but she was always told no because Sally's word "It's way to dangerous, you are not ready, you aren't old enough" or her mother's word "Is there something there that you cant find at home?, The place isn't very hygienic" but how bad could it be it was still under the rule of the Moonshines. Life in the Upper ring and the palace get boring after a while, why would she wants to stay put there when there a whole world to explore?
"The escorts are waiting for us outside those who want to go with us are welcome to go" Said Matilda looking at the guests with a forced smile almost knowing the reaction. All of them tried to mask there faces of disgust as if Matilda just asked them to bathe in mud or even worse she said that the food at the legendary "façade haut de gamme" was just an overpriced scam. They didn't look very impressed, Matilda coughed and asked "Well?".
One couple went towards the exit and when they got to Matilda the man said "We are truly flattered by your invite my queen but I am afraid we have something important to do" the man paused and scratched his head trying to think of an excuse Hope looked over him and asked
"What's more important to than a trip to see the rest of kingdom its not like we can always get to do it" with an ecstatic smile the woman who was scratching her head stopped as if she got an idea she went over looked to Hope with a stupid fake smile and said
"Well sweetie we forgot to sign up our son for school and registration will be closing today" she turned over to her husband and elbowed him in ribs and asked "Isn't that right honey?"
The man nodded in agreement and they walked out and they led out an audible sigh and when they were just outside of earshot the man told his wife "Moonshines huh? You would think after what happened a decade ago they would get the memo" the woman looked back at the Queen then waved and looked back at her husband and said
"She is weak if this happened to me I will make sure those pigs wish they weren't born".
Following into there footsteps and sensing an opening other guests decided to excuse themselves outside and at this point Matilda stopped resisting she knew some wouldn't want to go but she didn't think that many would go and she looked defeated Hope turned to her and said "Well mom we don't need those nose in the airers it's there loss anyways"
A woman walked up to them "She is right you know in-law" that woman was Hope's paternal aunt Mary, she had short blonde hair and brown eyes wearing a yellow dress for the occasion "The only reason any off these arrogant buffoons came here is societal expectations much like basically everything here" she said while rolling her eyes "and they all dipped the second they had the chance, come on lets go"
As they walked past the doors Sally was standing just outside the door scanning the setting with her eyes, her eyes wandered and locked with Mary "You should relax Sally no need for you to be so tense" she said with a smile she then changed her tone suddenly and said with a frown and a in a low voice that Hope and Matilda couldn't hear "Me and Matilda can protect ourselves and we aren't relying on you and my niece was under my protection since she was six, all you need to do is drive the horses and look menacing" and then she put her hand on her shoulder and smiled and said with an audible voice "So you can feel a lot more at ease dear", Sally tried hid her feeling of guilt with a fake smile "Let's go" said Mary joyfully
Everyone got on the horse driven chariot, just a classical chariot nothing magical about it, it's a very ineffective method of transport but one of the most relaxing ones
"HEEEEEY WAIT FOR ME" yelled a girl from as she was she surfing a purple cloud wearing a long sleeved purple sweater and blue pants as she got closer she tried to slow down by tilting her body backwards but she lost control and started flying at high speeds towards Hope
"EM SLOW DOWN" shouted Hope.
"I CANT BRACE FOR IMPACT" they both closed there eyes with their arms covering there eyes but just before contact she was caught effortlessly by Sally one hand and her cloud in the other she crushed the cloud in her fist into yellow mist that faded away and put the girl on her feet she then crossed her arms and looked down and barked
"Miss Emberlynn Springfield you should know how dangerous using magic without experience is, and you can't just rely on something you can't even responsibly use to make up for your own lack of punctuality"
Ember looked taken aback but she didn't want to look stupid so she snapped back with "I didn't know Hope is celebrating her birthday early in the morning, birthdays are a night activity".
Sally who was crossing her arms now raised her eyebrow and simply replied with,"Lies you were told everyday for the last week not my fault you can't seem to be able to be punctual friend's birthday, do you simply not care?".
Ember now looked embarrassed and now was rolling her finger around her dyed purple hair "M-M-My rooster didn't wake me up" she said with a smile while shrugging her shoulder as if she is asking question and the question was 'will Sally let the lecture go'.
"This doesn't matter now anyways it's that Ems is here" interjected Hope with excitement as she put her arm around Ember's shoulder "We shouldn't be wasting time let's go" she said as she punched her hand up in the sky.
Matilda, Hope, Ember and Mary entered the Chariot while Sally rode one of the two horses moving it while the other was being moved by an over-armoured and visibly nervous man.
"Calm down Edmund its just a short trip by a defined path we will be in an out in an hour or two" commanded Sally looking at Edmund clearly getting tired of his lack of confidence.
"I am trying but its such a big deal, escorting not one not two but three royals into the lower ring, I am not sure if I can do this, If I mess up-- I am too young for the consequences" he said clearly on the edge of panic
Sally slapped her hands on his cheeks "Edmund calm down you can do this I know you can" she said, Edmund seemed to calm down a bit "The whole path is being heavily guarded you and me are the last line of an extremely deep wall of defences we are most likely just going to be there for company" she looked back at the cart and said "and besides it's not like the royals can't protect themselves, they are much stronger than us after all"
"That's what they said about fre-" Edmund mumbled before putting his hand on his mouth mid sentence, Sally expression changed to that of anger.
"What did you just say?" she barked.
Edmund realising his mess up and started shaking "Um- I was talking about ---- the nice weather we are having" he said trying to pretend that this wasn't the stupidest attempt at backtracking, before Sally was going to give him a piece of her mind Mary stuck her head out and said in annoyed tone
"Hey I am not getting any younger here", Sally and Edmund looked forwards and shook the horse reins and they got moving forward
As they got to the edges of the Upper ring they reached translucent yellow barrier "We are reaching the barrier you might feel a tickle" proclaimed Sally.
As the horse crossed the barrier the barrier walls phased through the cart and it phased through Mary and Matilda there shoulder emblems glowed a four pointed star and a diamond respectfully in a yellow hue when it got to Hope and Ember the cart got to a sudden halt and they were thrown forwards Hope fell on her mother while Ember face was slapped into the barrier which was at this point halfway through the cart.
Sally opened the door "Everyone ok" she took one look at Ember and let out an annoyed sigh she dragged her hand out of the cart and asked while trying to hide her frustration "Show me your emblem"
Ember scoffed and tried to tuck back her long sleeves but she couldn't get back enough and said while crossing her arms "I can't and I am not removing my shirt".
Sally wasn't having any of it and from tip of her index made a sharp grey magic beam, she flattened Ember's sleeve and made a small cut in her right shoulder showing a yellow star rotated slightly to the left, after the cut yellow gas evaporated from it "And this is why emblems aren't covered it's common knowledge Springfield" said Sally annoyed.
"My favourite shirt! This was very unnecessary" whined Ember and before she could say anything Sally went back to her horse leaving her alone she scoffed and went back to the cart and sat next to Hope crossing her arms.
"You okay there", asked Hope concerned.
"Yeah I am fine just another lecture", said ember looking at the windows
As Hope looked out the window the lower ring didn't seem so different from home, people dressed and walked smartly roads were clean but something was off she couldn't help but notice everyone wore long sleeves even though it was a summer and it's not proper etiquette and that's something else it was surprisingly hot, She took her head out through the windows "Hello stranger" she greeted a man walking nearby he took one solid look at her and looked towards her mother and Sally who was frowning and her hands free with her emblem glowing, he didn't say anything and turned back and proceeded to speed walk away in a few seconds he ditched the subtlety and ran away, Hope was pretty disappointed and got her head into the cart
"What did I do wrong?", Hope asked.
"Girl it's either because you were too friendly it felt fake" said Ember, Hope looked down "Or they were made to feel unwelcome by misses buzzkill in the driving seat" she remarked
A loud sound of crashing wooden boxes was heard and cart went to a halt
"What was that" commented Mary
"Something that isn't boring" Hope said with excitement before leaving the cart.
"Make sure all of them stay put in the cart I will be gone for a short while" said Sally to Edmund before running to the source of the sound Hope tried to follow her but was body blocked by Edmund with his arms crossed
"Sorry I can't let you go princess, Superior's orders", he glanced to the left of him to seeing Ember touching a fancy table Infront of a café just for it to poof into a yellow cloud,
"Ow splinters" she cried, the yellow cloud fizzled reveal a wooden table barely clinging to its shape with a bunch of makeshift wooden fixes that don't even match in colour
Edmund looked like he just saw a ghost and ran towards Ember who was now transforming outdoor expensive furniture into splinter traps
"Stop touching it" said Edmund before shooting out a grey magical hands towards her subduing her, "What's your deal" he scolded annoyed.
"No what's this place deal why is everything here so fake?" snapped Ember "You hearing this Hope this place is fa-" she then stopped and asked "Aye were is Hope?"
Edmund let her go and pulled on his hair "Oh no no no no no no no" he cried
"Is everything alright where is my daughter?" asked Matilda concerned, Edmund didn't know what to say but before he could make up an explanation Mary interjected
"Oh don't worry Mati she will be ok she is probably with Sally and besides she still has this necklace I gave her so I am sure she will be just fine" Mary said with her hand on Matilda's shoulder "and we can go have some tea and chit-chat while we wait I heard that Gilbert's tea shop has actually potable tea" she suggested Matilda sighed and decided to go with what Mary said and walked towards the shop. "What about me?" asked Ember, Edmund turned towards her with anger and barked "You are staying right here!".
"Sally where are you?" called Hope as she was walking she saw a little girl wearing a cute pink dress and smooth brown hair walking alone Infront of her, she approached her and asked
"Hey do you happen to see a tall lady around here?" she tapped on her shoulder to get her attention and suddenly a cloud of yellow gas evaporated out of her Hope and the little girl coughed and as the smoke cleared the little girl was wearing a poorly knit patchwork of randoms scraps of fabric and her hair was covered in dirt she had a brown circle on the side of her shoulder, Hope froze in shock "I- I am so sorry, it was an accident" she apologised "I can go get you a new dress or--" the girl just looked at Hope her eyes glanced her wand which was in her right hand as well as her royal emblem and then she started hyperventilating and burst into tears.
Hope got on to her knees and she gently put her hands on the girl's shoulder "Calm down calm down, it's alright, It's not your fault but mine"
"P-P-pwease do-don hu-hur meeee" the girl sobbed.
"What hurt you? no no no no" Hope explained trying to figure out from where the girl got the idea
Hope hugged the girl "Here calm down see I am friendly" she soothed, the girl seemed to calm down a bit and she started sniffing
She let her go and asked "So what's your name?"
"R-R-Rosie" replied Rosie.
"Ok Rosie I am so sorry for ruining your dress, do you remember were you got it from?" she asked
"Ms Bea had guys gib it to us" Rosie said
"Misses Bea huh" she wondered out loud "Well can you tell me were misses Bea is"
"Sowwy I can't tell you misses moonnnn" Rosie was saying before she looked she wanted to cry again
"Please don't cry" Hope pleaded "You don't need to tell me where you live just wait" Hope passed her wand to her left hand and put her now free hand to her pocket and pulled out a purple wallet and she pulled out a golden note with 50 written on it she passed the note to Rosie and said "Here give this to misses Bea and tell her I am so sorry for destroying your dress also" Rosie grabbed the note and stared at it, Hope pulled some wrapped candy she got from the party "Her have some candy too" the girl put her the note in her pocket and grabbed the wrapped candy she struggled with it a bit and she then passed it back
"Open it please" Rosie asked
"Oh you can't? it's quite simple here" Hope said she gently tapped the candy her emblem glowed for a moment and the wrapping fizzed out.
Rosie put the candy in her mouth and quickly chewed and swallowed it, she then gave Hope a hug, she let go after a moment "Thank you miss, Ms Bea says Moosines are scawy but aren't scawy"
"Scary why would we be scary" Hope asked in disbelief with a smile
Rosie looked around and said "I am sowwy I need to go" she turned back and ran away and took a turn and was just out of sight.
"You couldn't just stop causing trouble for one day? what did we pay you for?" Hope heard Sally barking.
The sound of Sally's voice came from an alleyway, as Hope entered the alley the clean white paint started fading into rotting maroon bricks and the smell became foul coming from the open dumpster "Ewwwww" Hope said as she lowered the lid to try and lessen the stench
"Hey you know it's rude to close the lid on someone trying to fetch themselves a meal" a bald man barked as he popped out like a jack in the box he had a white beard wearing over shoulder strapped brown pants with a black plastic bag for a shirt and a metal can of beans for a hat and his left eye with a grey iris spinning his shoulder emblem only consisted of a simple brown circle, Hope screamed and ran away "Oh beans was that a Moonshine?" the man asked himself "Well I probably should skip town" he said to himself with a goofy smile while snapping his fingers.
Hope stopped running and started panting "Now you are lucky I am not here in head bashing duty or I would have sent you to a one way trip to the Outer ring and the monsters there could deal with you" Hope heard Sally scolding, she walked to the end of the alleyway the place beyond it was extremely different people clothes were worn out in which the holes were covered up by half baked sewn rotting fabric the road didn't exist it was simply a dirt undefined path and walls were all made of rotting bricks same as that of the alley, windows were broken and the stench of garbage filled the air, Hope saw Sally tying up a bunch of muscular men with a magic rope.
Sally glanced over and saw Hope "Princess what are you doing here?" she asked with dismay the rope holding the gangsters vanished they got up and shook of the dust and looked up and saw Hope and they all ran away in terror "Moonshine here run awway". All of a sudden all the people went indoors and the windows were sealed shut with wood and hammered with nails and just like that the place looked like a ghost town.

Skip to the Asterix* in Paragraph two/three If you don't want to read any backstory. I'm not sure what would be considered unfairly incomplete or not, so I'm leaving more than just the direct details, just in case.
I recently reconnected with a friend/ partner(?) from my past before I was fully ENM. When we went separate ways, he had met the woman who went on to become his wife. Years later, we've reconnected, and it turns out they are open. We have now gotten into a long term love relationship 10 yrs in the making, which his wife is entirely aware of, as I ask him to check in with and update her, and make sure she's okay with every new development. Her work and side projects keep her very busy and she has been poly before, so she is open to it on her end- she's just too busy atm to pursue having her own additional partners.
My partner is deeply supportive to both of us, however we both recognize that it is reasonable for him to prioritize supporting her. We work out the ups and downs and bumps in our relationships- to him it's very important to be supportive and present to me as well as her, not just because he wants to be a good partner, but also because I have a number of chronic illnesses and disabilities, and he loves me and wants to help care for me. Which he does.
(HERE) *So, I have had a small bump on my finger for years and thought nothing of it. It would sometimes go away and come back, and I even mentioned this to others, not having any clue that it could be a wart. My partner and I have just started becoming sexually active with each other (we had been intimate but did not have intercourse), when strange symptoms started to develop for me. I made appointments with doctors to look further into things since I'm not sure what's up. I'm lacking entire groupings of symptoms, but through looking up information I found out more about HPV. Namely that all warts are strains of hpv. I tried to look up if that's a concern in these relationships, and found very mixed messages- some people expressing that since it's such a common condition, you have no requirement to disclose unless you have a genital situation. I don't. But in reading about warts, I learned to what degree it is transmissible- touch and fomites for instance. Forgive my ignorance, But I didn't realize that warts on your hands are an entirely different strain than more concerning ones, and so when I went to my partner, I was very concerned, thinking about where we touched eachother, and other surfaces he'd been in contact with at my place. Later we realized that that type of hpv could not be transmitted via the type I have, But yes... He could get a wart from me, If he doesn't have that strain already to begin with.
I felt terrible about the above, but his position was that it's such a common infection that he could pick up this strain from anywhere, and if he got a wart, there would be no way to prove it was from me. Fair enough. What about his wife though? I told him that his wife might not feel the same way and he agreed, and now we're at a place where if she is uncomfortable being exposed to this through me... well, we'd have to break up. This is terribly upsetting. We've admitted to being in love when we met 10 yrs ago, and how exciting it is to finally be together for over a year now... Yet I still think it's important to allow his wife to know everything. I don't believe she'd look for an excuse to make my partner end our relationship, since she knows how much he cares for me. She doesn't seem like the jealous type, or someone who feels insecure because her husband has a gf. I request that they have regular check-ins about things, and they also seem to be really good at communicating, so I almost never am concerned that she doesn't want him to date me... But she may not want to be exposed to catching a wart... And I just really don't know what to do. We're all forty and up.
Thoughts on how to approach this would be much appreciated.

1. In John 3:16, who is God, and who is his one and only son?

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

1. Who created all things? John 1:1-3

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.

1. Did Christ exist after he was born in this world, or he has always been, and it is through him that all humans exist? John 8:48-58

48 The Jews answered him, “Aren’t we right in saying that you are a
Samaritan and demon-possessed?”
49 “I am not possessed by a demon,” said Jesus, “but I honor my
Father and you dishonor me. 50 I am not seeking glory for myself;
but there is one who seeks it, and he is the judge. 51 Very truly I
tell you, whoever obeys my word will never see death.”
52 At this they exclaimed, “Now we know that you are demon-possessed!
Abraham died and so did the prophets, yet you say that whoever obeys
your word will never taste death. 53 Are you greater than our father
Abraham? He died, and so did the prophets. Who do you think you are?”
54 Jesus replied, “If I glorify myself, my glory means nothing. My
Father, whom you claim as your God, is the one who glorifies me. 55
Though you do not know him, I know him. If I said I did not, I would
be a liar like you, but I do know him and obey his word. 56 Your
father Abraham rejoiced at the thought of seeing my day; he saw it
and was glad.”
57 “You are not yet fifty years old,” they said to him, “and you have
seen Abraham!”
58 “Very truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “before Abraham was
born, I am!”

1. Is Christ God?
   
2. Did Christ come into the world as a man, doing God's will, or as God? John 14:10
   

10 Don’t you believe that I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me? The words I say to you I do not speak on my own authority. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work.

1. Did Christ go through the various stages and challenges of life as a man or as God?
   
2. From his childhood, did Christ know that he was God? Mark 10:17-18
   

17 As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his
knees before him. “Good teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to
inherit eternal life?”
18 “Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except
God alone.

1. Did Christ learn about the Father, and start his fellowship with the Father the same way as every other human would have, by going to Sunday school, studying the scriptures, and doing the will of the Father, until he and the Father had become one?

Luke 2:46
After three days they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions.
Luke 2:52
“And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man.”

1. Who confirmed Jesus Christ as a true child of God, when his will and the Father's will had become one, after doing God's will for a long time? Matthew 3:13-17

13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John.
14 But John tried to deter him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you,
and do you come to me?”
15 Jesus replied, “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this
to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented.
16 As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that
moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending
like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said,
“This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”

1. Will you also receive a confirmation from the Father in your spirit when your will and the Father's will have become one after doing his will for some time?
   
2. In John 10:10, who is the thief, what does he want, and what does Christ want for every human?
   

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

1. Who gave you life?
   
2. If Satan can make you turn against your Father in Heaven has he stolen you from him?
   
3. In what ways does Satan try to destroy the children of God?
   
4. Will Satan try to kill you if all his attempts fail?
   
5. In what way did Christ expect people to know who he was? John 10:24-25
   

24 The Jews who were there gathered around him, saying, “How long
will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us
plainly.”
25 Jesus answered, “I did tell you, but you do not believe. The
works I do in my Father’s name testify about me,

1. Are you *something* because of what you do every day, or what you say that you are?
   
2. How is Christ the way to the Father? John 14:4-6
   

4 You know the way to the place where I am going.” 5 Thomas said to
him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the
way?”
6 Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No
one comes to the Father except through me.

1. What examples did Christ *do* and *teach* humans as the way to become like Christ? (Read the Gospels)
   
2. Can you believe in Christ without practicing his teachings?
   
3. Which examples of Christ are you following now?
   
4. Was Christ willing to forgive the people who had tortured him and hanged him on the cross to die? Luke 23:34
   

34 Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.

1. Which character and mind will be formed in you when you believe in Christ by acting on his word?
   
2. How can Christ be formed in you?
   
3. When you blow air into a balloon and place it on a bucket of water will it float or will it sink?
   
4. When you press the balloon to the bottom of the bucket and you leave it what will happen to the balloon?
   
5. In John 11:20-26, how is Christ the resurrection and the life?
   

20 When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him,
but Mary stayed at home.
21 “Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother
would not have died. 22 But I know that even now God will give you
whatever you ask.”
23 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.”
24 Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at
the last day.”
25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one
who believes in me will live, even though they die; 26 and whoever
lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

1. When you do not have the character and mind of Christ can you be resurrected?
   
2. In what way is a person who has become like Christ, like a balloon?
   
3. Through Christ, should there be other Christs?
   
4. Does Christ's resurrection teach humans that when a man has formed Christ in them, they are *capable* of being resurrected, and that resurrection is *possible*?
   
5. Did Christ wish to go through the suffering on the cross, or he went through it because it was the Father's will?
   

“Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”

1. Are you also willing to do the Father's will even when it does not make you happy?
   
2. Did the people of his day find it easy to accept the teachings of Christ, including the disciples?
   
3. Did the disciples believe that Christ would resurrect after his death on the cross? John 20:24-29
   

24 Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not
with the disciples when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told
him, “We have seen the Lord!”
But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put
my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will
not believe.”
26 A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was
with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among
them and said, “Peace be with you!” 27 Then he said to Thomas,
“Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it
into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”
28 Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
29 Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed;
blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

1. Did Christ know that for the people to truly believe him he had to give them a sign? Matthew 12:38-39

38 Then some of the Pharisees and teachers of the law said to him,
“Teacher, we want to see a sign from you.”
39 He answered, “A wicked and adulterous generation asks for a sign!
But none will be given it except the sign of the prophet Jonah.

1. What sign would he give them to make them believe?
   
2. If Christ had not died in public, would his resurrection have meant anything to the people of his day?
   
3. If Christ had not resurrected from the dead, would his message have taken deeper roots in the hearts of the people, making them believe that all that he said was true? John 11:25
   

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die;

1. When the people believed him after his resurrection were they willing to spread the message to other towns and even die while doing so?
   
2. In what way did the Father use Christ's public humiliation and death on the cross to make Christ's message take deeper roots in the hearts of men after his resurrection, to the point where they were willing to die for it?
   
3. Did the Father use what the Devil had planned for evil, for good, by letting Christ go through public humiliation and death, or did the Father plan to have Christ crucified all along?
   
4. Can humans enter God's kingdom and be saved from darkness if only they will believe in Christ's teachings?
   
5. If the price to pay for Christ's message to be accepted by the people was death by the cross, and later resurrection, was Christ willing to do what it would take by paying the price?
   
6. Did the Father pay the price by giving his very best, his only begotten son?
   
7. Does the Father allowing Christ to go through so much suffering teach humans how far he is willing to go to rescue even the most stubborn human from darkness?
   
8. Does Christ humbling himself even unto death, teach humans how far we must be willing to go to do God's will?
   
9. Can the problem of humans living in darkness, and dying because of it, be solved?
   
10. Is there a price to pay to solve it?
    
11. Are you willing to pay the price?
    
12. Did Christ come to replace the laws of the prophets, or improve upon them and give them their full meaning?
    

Matthew 5:33-37
33 “Again, you have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘Do not break your oath, but fulfill to the Lord the vows you have made.’ 34 But I tell you, do not swear an oath at all: either by heaven, for it is God’s throne; 35 or by the earth, for it is his footstool; or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the Great King. 36 And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make even one hair white or black. 37 All you need to say is simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one.
Matthew 5:38-39
38 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ 39 But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.
Matthew 19:8-11
8 Jesus replied, “Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning. 9 I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another woman commits adultery.”
Matthew 5:43-46
43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. 46 If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that?
Matthew 5:27-28
27 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ 28 But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.
Matthew 5:17
Don't suppose I came to do away with the Law and the Prophets. I did not come to do away with them, but to give them their full meaning.

1. Does following Christ's teachings mean that you no longer have to obey the law? Matthew 5:19

Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.

1. Can you become perfect by following laws alone?
   
2. What is the reason for your answer?
   
3. Do the laws of God cover every aspect of human living and behavior?
   
4. Can you become perfect by following the laws of God and Christ who by taking on human nature also understands you and knows how to deal with the things that stop you from becoming perfect? Matthew 5:20
   

For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.

1. Did Christ come to start a new religion named after him, or to establish the kingdom of God on earth?
   
2. Where is the kingdom of God on earth? Luke 17:20-21
   

20 And when he was demanded of the Pharisees, when the kingdom of God
should come, he answered them and said, The kingdom of God cometh not
with observation:
21 Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the
kingdom of God is within you.

1. How do you enter God's kingdom?
   
2. Can you enter God's kingdom without submitting yourself to God, daily? Luke 22:42
   

“Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”

1. Did the Jews accept or reject Christ's teachings? John 10:20-21

20 Many of them said, “He is demon-possessed and raving mad. Why
listen to him?”
21 But others said, “These are not the sayings of a man possessed by a
demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?”

1. What would happen to Jerusalem shortly after Christ had been taken up into Heaven? Luke 19:41-44

41 As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it 42 and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. 43 The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. 44 They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.”

1. When Christ was about to be crucified, and the women wept for him, why did he say to them "Weep for yourselves"? Luke 23:27-28

27 A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him. 28 Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children.

1. What happened to Jerusalem shortly after Christ had been taken up into Heaven?
   
2. If the Jews had accepted Christ's message would the Romans have destroyed their cities and temples and killed so many of them?
   
3. If all men accept God as their Father, will they treat each other as brothers and sisters, or as foreigners and enemies? John 4:7-9
   

7 When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will
you give me a drink?” 8 (His disciples had gone into the town to buy
food.)
9 The Samaritan woman said to him, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan
woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate
with Samaritans.)

1. If all men accept each other as brothers and sisters, will they continue to fight each other or allow the peace of God to reign on earth?
   
2. What is a parable?
   
3. What is the parable of the tenants? Luke 20:9-19
   

9 He went on to tell the people this parable: “A man planted a
vineyard, rented it to some farmers and went away for a long time.
10 At harvest time he sent a servant to the tenants so they would give
him some of the fruit of the vineyard. But the tenants beat him and
sent him away empty-handed. 11 He sent another servant, but that one
also they beat and treated shamefully and sent away empty-handed. 12
He sent still a third, and they wounded him and threw him out.
13 “Then the owner of the vineyard said, ‘What shall I do? I will send
my son, whom I love; perhaps they will respect him.’
14 “But when the tenants saw him, they talked the matter over. ‘This
is the heir,’ they said. ‘Let’s kill him, and the inheritance will be
ours.’ 15 So they threw him out of the vineyard and killed him.
“What then will the owner of the vineyard do to them? 16 He will come
and kill those tenants and give the vineyard to others.”
When the people heard this, they said, “God forbid!”
17 Jesus looked directly at them and asked, “Then what is the meaning
of that which is written:
“‘The stone the builders rejected has become the
cornerstone’?
18 Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces; anyone
on whom it falls will be crushed.”
19 The teachers of the law and the chief priests looked for a way to
arrest him immediately, because they knew he had spoken this parable
against them. But they were afraid of the people.

1. What does the vineyard represent in the parable?
   
2. Who is the owner of the vineyard?
   
3. Who are the tenants? Matthew 23:29-35
   

29 “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You
build tombs for the prophets and decorate the graves of the
righteous. 30 And you say, ‘If we had lived in the days of our
ancestors, we would not have taken part with them in shedding the
blood of the prophets.’ 31 So you testify against yourselves that you
are the descendants of those who murdered the prophets. 32 Go ahead,
then, and complete what your ancestors started!
33 “You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being
condemned to hell? 34 Therefore I am sending you prophets and sages
and teachers. Some of them you will kill and crucify; others you will
flog in your synagogues and pursue from town to town. 35 And so upon
you will come all the righteous blood that has been shed on earth,
from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah son of
Berekiah, whom you murdered between the temple and the altar.

1. In what ways did the tenants beat and treat the servants shamefully?
   
2. What is the fruit of the vineyard?
   
3. Who were the servants sent to the vineyard to collect the fruits of the vineyard?
   
4. Who was the son sent to collect the vineyard's fruits?
   
5. Did Christ come into the world to be humiliated and killed or to draw men into the Father's kingdom by his teachings and lifestyle?
   
6. Was Christ sacrificed or betrayed and murdered? Acts 7:52-53
   

52 Was there any prophet that your ancestors did not persecute? They killed God's messengers, who long ago announced the coming of his righteous Servant. And now you have betrayed and murdered him. 53 You are the ones who received God's law, that was handed down by angels—yet you have not obeyed it!”

1. What is the harvest, and who are the laborers? Matthew 9:35-38

35 And Jesus went throughout all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction. 36 When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 37 Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; 38 therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”

1. Was Christ able to forgive sins before he was crucified? Matthew 9:2-7

2 Some men brought to him a paralyzed man, lying on a mat. When Jesus
saw their faith, he said to the man, “Take heart, son; your sins
are forgiven.”
3 At this, some of the teachers of the law said to themselves, “This
fellow is blaspheming!”
4 Knowing their thoughts, Jesus said, “Why do you entertain evil
thoughts in your hearts? 5 Which is easier: to say, ‘Your sins are
forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up and walk’? 6 But I want you to know
that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he
said to the paralyzed man, “Get up, take your mat and go home.” 7
Then the man got up and went home.

1. Did humans have to spill the blood of Christ to be forgiven of their sins?
   
2. In what way does Christ take away the sin of the world? John 1:29
   

The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!

1. In what way did Christ fulfill the prophecy of Isaiah in Isaiah 53:4? Matthew 8:14-17

14 When Jesus came into Peter’s house, he saw Peter’s mother-in-law
lying in bed with a fever. 15 He touched her hand and the fever left
her, and she got up and began to wait on him.
16 When evening came, many who were demon-possessed were brought to
him, and he drove out the spirits with a word and healed all the sick.
17 This was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah:
“He took up our infirmities and bore our diseases.”

1. What is the story of the woman caught in adultery? John 8:1-11

8 1 but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives.
2 At dawn he appeared again in the temple courts, where all the people
gathered around him, and he sat down to teach them. 3 The teachers of
the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They
made her stand before the group 4 and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this
woman was caught in the act of adultery. 5 In the Law Moses commanded
us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” 6 They were using this
question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.
But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his
finger. 7 When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and
said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to
throw a stone at her.” 8 Again he stooped down and wrote on the
ground.
9 At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older
ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing
there. 10 Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they?
Has no one condemned you?”
11 “No one, sir,” she said.
“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave
your life of sin.”

1. Was it possible for humans to stop sinning before Christ was crucified? John 8:11
   
2. How do you stop sinning?
   
3. Was Christ able to teach all that he wanted to before he was taken up into Heaven? John 16:12
   

“I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear.

1. How did Christ know that the people could not bear all that he had to say to them? John 3:1-12

3 Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of
the Jewish ruling council. 2 He came to Jesus at night and said,
“Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no
one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.”
3 Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom
of God unless they are born
again.”
4 “How can someone be born when they are old?” Nicodemus asked.
“Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be
born!”
5 Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the
kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. 6 Flesh
gives birth to flesh, but the
Spirit gives birth to spirit. 7 You should not be
surprised at my saying,
‘You must be born again.’ 8 The wind blows wherever it
pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from
or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the
Spirit.”
9 “How can this be?” Nicodemus asked.
10 “You are Israel’s teacher,” said Jesus, “and do you not
understand these things? 11 Very truly I tell you, we speak of what
we know, and we testify to what we have seen, but still you people do
not accept our testimony. 12 I have spoken to you of earthly things
and you do not believe; how then will you believe if I speak of
heavenly things?

1. Who will continue his work after he has been taken up into Heaven? John 16:13

But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come.

1. While on earth why did Christ call himself the Son of Man? Matthew 8:20

“And Jesus said to him, ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’”

1. Is human experience already in God from the beginning, or is human experience obtained by living like a human?
   
2. Did Christ rule over our universe after creating it, or did he wait until he had first put on human nature, thereby becoming both Son of God and Son of Man? Matthew 28:16-18
   

16 Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. 17 When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. 18 Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.

1. Who gave Christ all authority?
   
2. What did Christ have after his resurrection, that he did not have before his crucifixion? Matthew 28:18
   

18 Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.

1. What could go wrong if Christ ruled our universe after creating it, without first putting on human nature?
   
2. What can go wrong when you try advancing a child when you have never been a child before?
   
3. In Matthew 23:11 why does the Father (through Christ) say
   

The greatest among you must be a servant.

1. Would Christ use his authority over Man, fairly, if he had not first obtained a human experience, and known what it was like to be human?

Luke 23:34
Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.
Luke 5:21-22
21 The Pharisees and the teachers of the law began thinking to themselves, “Who is this fellow who speaks blasphemy? Who can forgive sins but God alone?”

22 Jesus knew what they were thinking and asked, “Why are you thinking these things in your hearts?

1. If God himself goes through the proper way to assume authority, should humans also learn to do things the proper way?
   
2. Did Christ live his life on earth by seeking the will of the Father and doing it? John 6:38
   

For I have come down from heaven not to do my will but to do the will of him who sent me.

1. Should humans also spend their lives seeking the will of God and doing it?
   
2. Was Christ able to fulfill the law? Matthew 5:17
   

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.

1. Is Christ able to help you fulfill the law as well?

Tenth Moon, 25AC

Pentos
Twenty-three, Twenty-four, Twenty-five.
“You are certain?” Probed Dynohr, but Orys waved him off.
Twenty-six, Twenty-seven, twenty-eight.
“The lord Protector does not need to remind you of your commitments, master Dynohr,” Aeran mercifully answered before he needed to. He had come down to the docks with a splitting headache, and from the moment he saw them, he had to count. He was promised two-hundred and twenty, he would count them, he would be certain.
Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six.
“Even so, surely you have more time, we need not depart so swiftly. The storms… they will be quite terrible this time of year, the sea is not merciful to the hasty,” said the sellsword legate. He was an excellent commander by all accounts, but Orys was earning a second pain in the back of his ear listening to him. He refused to lose his count too. For all he cared, all that mattered, the aged warrior did not need this right now.
Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four.
“And as agreed, we had to depart in the coming days. The timeline does not allow for dalliance, nor does it allow for you to dither,” Raymont snapped, though Orys could hear the stress in his voice. Of all his family, of his sons, of his wife, Raymont was the one to caution him against coming here. He was the one to say that leaving at such a time would be a detriment, that departing just before the feast, the hunt, before the prince’s name day would only lead to a greater divide between who should wear the crown. He was a good lad for it, a smart one. Someone worth being his heir, someone who cared.
Eighty-five, eight-six, eighty-seven.
Their path led them on an incline up the docks, following towards the enormous walls that surrounded the grand old city. He needed a better view, sails were easier to count from so high. And he had already counted those that numbered among the closest to the wharfs.
“I understand your haste, and your needs, young lord, but the tides care little for what we wish to do. Righteousness means nothing to the waves,” protested another, but the Lord protector ignored him. He was a slight fellow, much less present than the rest of the entourage following him. In fact, a glance back barely revealed him from the overpowering shadow of Vyronno. The behemoth of a man gave only a grunt at being glanced at, though the grunt seemed more to be about the leg of chicken he was currently feasting upon.
Ninety-three.
“The haste is well-founded,” Aeran cut in again, his sharp Myrish accent cutting through the conversation like a knife. If there was anger or annoyance in it however, Orys did not register. His only focus were the ships. What a strange figure he must have cast with a band of Essosi at his back, from the free cities, from further East, he was trailed by a dozen figures, all bickering over the course and all the head of the group cared for, were boats.
“And yet if we act too fast, what happens then? If the waves claim half of the ships? What of the cargo then? Of the contents? We’ll be ruined because you simply wished to return while the Queens remained in king’s Landing!” The slight man said, and finally his name came to Orys. Horo Hartion, one of the ship captains from Braavos.
One hundred and thirty-three.
The man was an expert on the waves certainly, but Orys was not able to heed him. Not now. Perhaps a year ago he might have, but not now. Not when ideas came late and solutions later. He had gathered what he needed, he had visited the triarchs, the magisters, the princes and Sealords, and only now had he his ships, his supposed two-hundred and twenty.
“How long before we should leave then? Hm?” Pried his son, blessed Raymot with his well-directed displeasure.
“At least until the winter, the cool air will help keep the sea calm. And perhaps it would make it easier on your home,” said the captain, but Aeran hissed a condescending laugh.
“Winter? If we do that, then we will be arriving in winter, and then having to rebuild in winter and solve the kingdom’s woes in winter. You think it is bad normally? Try it when there’s no food growing,” the man snapped, and the captain audibly shrunk away, his voice growing smaller.
“But…”
One hundred and seventy-five.
He was coming so close to the remaining few sails. He had segmented them by their respective groups, moored together and kept locked side by side to fit the harbour better. It made it far easier to count them, that much was certain. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if there were other dangers to it.
So close, so much wood.
One hundred and ninety-six.
“If not later, perhaps at least a faster route?” Asked the captain, earning a scoff from Aeran and Raymont in unison. And within seconds they were back to bickering. Orys shook his head, the imposing lord rubbing at his temple as he walked to the edge of the wall, trying to rid himself of the headache, and failing terribly at it.
Their bickering picked up, moving from quick-spoken words to shouts and he closed his eyes.
Two hundred and five.
More of the band of followers were joining in, blessedly except for Vyronno. The man’s bellows were simply too heavy for his ears to handle amid the headache.
Orys shook his head, but the voices grew louder, and soon enough he was conscious of the markets below, the sounds of the tides. With a breath, hie attempted to focus on the counting, opening his eyes to the harbour, but finding the world below a blur.
Two hundred… two-hundred and what?
He sucked on his gums… he was close. So fucking close to the end of it. What was that number? He clenched his fists, digging his fingers into the hard stone of the wall, but the elusive numerals refused him. And as his headache grew and the shouting overpowered him. He grit his teeth and slammed a fist against the stone.
“Enough!” He bellowed, and the entourage fell silent immediately.
Anger flooded through him, annoyance in turn and finally, dismay. He was so fucking close to finishing his count, spoiled by his interminable headache and further agitated by the sounds surrounding.
“We sail on schedule, on the course plotted, with all…” he glanced to the captain and then to Dynohr, both men lightly bowing their heads, both averting their gazes slightly. The Lord Protector rubbed a thick hand across hie forehead and leaned into the wall. Gods what he would have given for all the strength of his youth, for the power of the man who bested Argillac. For the strength of the man who helped dragons conquer kingdoms.
“Fuck,” he said quietly, drawing the eyes of his son.
“I do this for it is better to do something than to let it be left a mystery. Better to try to do something right than to hope the alternatives simply work out,” he said and looked over the assembly. At Vyronno, his trusted friend whose enormous, folded arms might have warded off some, but not him. He looked to Raymont, his son as tall as him, a mirror of Aegon’s hand in his younger years. To Aeran, the golden haired Myrish warrior, to the captain Hartion with his wildly styled moustache and elegant hat and to Dynohr, the flamboyantly dressed sellsword.
“Bad weather will waylay us, if it comes, but that is all. We will not be subjects to the fear of the rain or the waves. Not now.”
With a hard look at each of the squabbling men, he finally sighed.
“Go. Leave me,” he finished and the men looked between themselves before silently dissipating. Only Raymont and Vyronno remaining. The behemoth never abandoning his side unless told to by name. And Raymont, for the young Baratheon’s brows remained furrowed. Down there, in the city was the boy’s wife, the Dayne. Orys pondered for a moment, what did she think of this endeavour? Certainly she was of the mind of his son at first, foolhardy and confused. Perhaps directly opposed. But she had yet to raise a word of it.
Subterfuge had gotten them this far, care and caution had kept their plans in place and free of the eyes of others. Syrella’s spies did not reach so far, and the Westerosi were not concerned with what lay beyond their own coasts. Essos was a wild and untamed land to them, just as Westeros was to the inhabitants of the Free cities and beyond. Perhaps it would work against them, perhaps he would be seen as something terrible and unknown. But he had kept the Kingdom running for years, he had conceded to the queens instead of battling them at each turn. He had killed his ego so that the land would heal from the conquest, so that it would recover from massacres in the woods, so that burnt bridges in the Reach and Dragons in the North would not be enough to break Aegon’s dream apart.
But now…
“You haven’t taken the medication they gave you, have you?” Asked Raymont.
“No,” his heavy voice rang plain, and his weary eyes lifted to meet his sons. So full of worry, so full of youth, wasted here, wasted contending with his father’s woes.
“And the headaches have gotten worse, have they not?” He asked.
Orys shook his head, “only here, only where it’s loud,” he sighed, his lean growing heavier against the wall. What he would have given now for his comfortable chair in his office in the tower of the hand. Where he was too high for the city to bother him, where none came to find him lest there was an emergency.
Here… here it was just too loud.
“Here,” Raymont said with a sigh, handing over a small tincture, and holding up his flask. Orys eyed the tincture suspiciously, but he knew its contents. He would not win this battle, however. Orys Baratheon knew when he was beaten, the Lord Protector took the vial from his son, uncorked it and downed the contents. He clicked his tongue and he washed down the awful taste with he offered flask, blessedly it was just water. He had grown sick of the amount of wine in this place.
“Vyronno, how fare the captains?” he asked, the headache already numbing, giving him blessed few moments of clarity.
The large man shifted, and even that motion seemed to be a great effort for the giant.
“They are tired, they are wary. They are afraid. I fear many do not wish to cast off come the day,” the thick-bellied and deep-voiced man grumbled. He had no love for the ship captains, many of which were sellswords themselves, a group in which the behemoth held little regard for.
“How many?” Orys probed.
“Perhaps a quarter,” mused the man, and Orys grimaced. Enough to hamper them.
“Then…” he looked to the harbour now, eyes narrowing on the locked together ships.
“Uncouple all but twenty of the ships,” he said quickly, and Raymont frowned.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I will motivate them if they will not do it themselves.”
Raymont’s frown held, and Orys sighed, “take Aeren and his men, do it at night.”
His son finally nodded, and then he too finally left as Orys’ headache finally faded.
“I fear he should not come with us,” Vyronno said.
The Lord Protector huffed, but he eventually nodded. Raymont was not destined to be a victim of his father’s sins. At least he would not see it happen.
“Tell Shovi and Salaela what to do,” Orys said, leaving the comment unanswered. Vyronno gave a nod and reluctantly left Orys atop the battlements, watching the harbour, and finally, he was allowed to be alone and count again.
One, two, three…
From the blessed view of the extensive balcony of Orys' manse, he was given a grand perspective of the sea, and from there, he watched the brilliant roar of flames billowing upwards. Though as he watched, he tapped, counting the seconds by as the flames billowed. If they could not control it within the next five minutes, his plan would be a deathblow to his goals, but he had faith. Faith sometimes was enough o quell the burning in his chest, to overtake the distress at a failed idea.
But… he had faith.
And faith was rewarded at times. As his ears itched from the ringing of bells, finally, someone burst into the room. Orys did not look back, but found the voice of Isembard Stassanar addressing him.
“My lord… the fleet… sabotage,” he huffed breathily, but Orys held a hand to him.
“Calm, I know,” he said and he motioned to the window and his view of the docks, where he was given a perfectly adequate view of the slowly dimming flames. They were pretty against the night, but he could not deny how it reminded him of the conquest… though those flames would not have been doused by such attempts. Buckets would not carry enough water to fight dragonflame.
“Thank you for telling me, Isembard… you may go,” he mused and with what was probably the sound of a salute, the man slinked from the room, doors rocking closed quietly after him.
One, two, three.
The halls of his manse were filled today. Three or four hundred men, all as colourful as they were varied. From every free city, from as far as the great grass sea. They were plentiful, and they all looked to him as he entered, raised up on a balcony overlooking the assembled crowd. His headache was back and the tincture did little to help it. But he persevered.
“The fleet’s damage was minimal,” he said plainly, earning some grumbles from one portion of the crowd and sighs of relief from another.
“Our plans however have been put in place, there are those who clearly know of my intentions, which means we may not act with such sloth. Time has come for us to make our final preparations. It is time we set sail,” he spoke plainly, voice bellowing and the crowd’s silence was a surprise. But eventually, from within it came the voice of Aeran.
“Well out you fuckers go!” he shouted and with grumbling voices, the men began to filter out.
“So the die Is cast,” Orys sighed, earning a chuckle from Vyronno.
“So it is…” sighed the behemoth.
“So it is.”
"Oh, and one thing," Vyronno added, earning a raised brow from Orys.
"There was an error on the part of the clerk, there were more than two hundred and twenty," he reported and the raised brow lowered as Orys grinned.
"Thank the gods for small mercies it seems."
May we pray for more

So, after playing Pathologic (I'm sure a lot of people started there) and watching Codex Entry's videos which draw parallels between various absurdist writers and the plot of the game, I wanted to give writing in that style a crack. I'm not a scholar or anything, this kind of marks the first step down the rabbit hole from my perspective. Still, it would be interesting to get thoughts from people who've consumed more of that kind of work than I have (primarily to help guide further exploration of the ideas).
A man sits on top of a hill overlooking a large city from its outskirts. There is a single tree to shade him, and he sits beside a cooler filled with alcoholic drinks. Suddenly, another man approaches with his seat…
Jeremy: Fredrick.
Fredrick: Jeremy.
The guest sets himself up on the other side of the cooler before taking his seat.
Jeremy: How is she?
Fredrick: Passed. She had her time for fighting and now, is her time for resting.
Jeremy: And how are you?
Fredrick: I’m still numb to it.
Jeremy: Indifference is an ugly concept. Do well to defeat whatever shred of it exists within you.
Fredrick: Indifference?
Jeremy: A less romantic term, but yes. Indifference.
Fredrick: There’s nothing romantic about losing your wife to begin with… Lets not do this.
Jeremy: My point is that you’re doing nothing, but we’ll all be gone soon enough. Go on then, change the topic.
The two men sit in silence for some minutes
Fredrick: So what would you have me do then?
Jeremy: What sort of question is that?
Fredrick: It is easy for you to sit on your chair, to drink your beer-
Jeremy: Would you like one?
Fredrick: No, I don’t drink.
Jeremy: Not like you used to anyway.
Fredrick: It is easy for you to sit on your chair, to drink your beer-
Jeremy: Would you like one?
Fredrick Please stop interupting me, especially to ask the same question again.
Jeremy: You don’t get it yet, but I’m asking a different question every time.
Fredrick: Sure… To drink your beer, and to criticise me of inaction, but what could I do? I’m no doctor, and even further from a miracle worker.
Jeremy: But you are you.
Fredrick: Of course I am me.
Jeremy: Are you?
Fredrick: Of course I am me.
Jeremy: Well if you’re so sure…
Fredrick: Who else could I be?
Jeremy: Decide for yourself. My attention is taken up by this beer I sip with so much ‘ease’.
Jeremy laughs, Fredrick rolls his eyes.
Jeremy: Alright alright, I’m not exactly being straight with you.
Fredrick: When have you ever?
Jeremy: If you didn’t enjoy our conversations you wouldn’t have decided to meet me here.
Fredrick: No one else enjoys your conversation; if I wasn’t hear you’d drive yourself mad.
Jeremy: No, I’d simply talk with the tree.
Fredrick: I fail to see how you talking with trees goes against you being mad, but I digress. What is your point here?
Jeremy: Your wife just passed.
Fredrick: I’m aware.
Jeremy: And yet you won’t drink with me.
Fredrick: I’m aware.
Jeremy: I think that’s silly.
Fredrick: What does my wife dying have to do with abstinence-
Jeremy: Cowardice.
Fredrick: Cowardice?
Jeremy: A less romantic term, but yes, cowardice.
Fredrick: What so you think I’m afraid of a can of beer?
Jeremy: Are you?
Fredrick: I am not.
Jeremy: Then what is it you’re afraid of?
Fredrick: You’re the one acusing me of cowardice, you substantiate it.
Jeremy: Hmmm…
The two men sit in silence for some minutes
Jeremy: You’re afraid of the end.
Fredrick: It’s natural to fear death.
Jeremy: Interesting how you conflate the two.
Fredrick: What else could ‘the end’ refer to? The end of this chat?
Jeremy: The end of this chat spells doom for us both chum, but I didn’t mean anything so specific.
Fredrick: So, I’m afraid of ‘endings’?
Jeremy: It’s easy for the cynical to believe that their lives are a cycle of mysery. But there is no cycle. What begins, ends. Even if something else were to begin, what came before has already ended. Cylicality is a comforting illusion.
Fredrick: Hardly seems that way when the cycle is of pain.
Jeremy: But isn’t pain a comfort? Is it not better to expect pain and receive it than to expect nothing at all?
Fredrick: The cynical would expect nothing.
Jeremy: This is a failure of your understanding of both the cyclical and the cynical.
The two men sit in silence for some minutes. In the distance, sirens can be heard.
Fredrick: Our time is running out.
Jeremy: What makes you think it hasn’t already?
Fredrick: We’re both still alive aren’t we?
Jeremy: Ahh I see.
Fredrick: What?
Jeremy: I see trees of green, red roses too~
Jeremy giggles to himself, Fredrick scoffs.
Fredrick: How can you be so unserious at a time like this?
Jeremy: I’m treating the current situation with the exact appropriate amount of seriousness, no more no less.
Fredrick: So I’m too serious?
Jeremy: Friend, I have never had the words to describe you better than the two you used to just describe yourself.
Fredrick: From my perspective you’re not serious enough, and those are the only words I need to describe you.
Jeremy: Well met. Fancy a-
Fredrick: I swear to GOD Jeremy.
Fredrick is death staring Jeremy, anger clearly visible on his face. Jeremy is taken aback. He sips on his can, before setting it down.
Jeremy: You can’t live like this mate.
Fredrick: We’re not gonna be living at all soon.
Jeremy: Fine, you can’t die like this either.
Fredrick: Like what? What is it you’re trying to tell me?
Jeremy: Look buddy, you’ve been so tightly wound for as long as I’ve known you. You live like everything is sheep in your cattle, and you’re the farmer trying to keep it all together.
Fredrick: Everyone’s left me. Family is all gone, friends are off dying somewhere, and the only solace I had left just passed. If I am the farmer, I’ve already failed.
Jeremy: But that’s what I’m saying.
Fredrick: What?
Jeremy: Have a drink with me.
Fredrick: I already TOLD you, I DO. NOT. DRINK.
Jeremy: According to who?
Fredrick: According to who? According to me. I am the only authority on my life.
Jeremy: Authority… Authority… How curious of you to simulaneously believe that while also claiming you’ve failed.
Fredrick: The key is that I failed, me, the farmer, the one in control. I failed in my task, and am wholely responsible for that.
Jeremy: What a silly thing to say outloud.
Fredrick: Silly?
Jeremy: Yes.
Fredrick: It’s silly for me to take responsibility for myrself?
Jeremy: You don’t understand responsibility. Not here, not about this.
Fredrick: I just took care of my dying wife, tell me, what do I not understand about responsibility.
Jeremy breaks into laughter again. Fredrick furrows his brows with impatience.
Jeremy: See, this is exactly what I mean. You say responsibility as if we’re talking about the same thing, but you couldn’t be any more wrong.
Fredrick: Then tell me, where is the source of my error.
Jeremy: Have a drink with me.
Fredrick: Should I start keeping tally of all the times you’ve asked me if I want a drink?
Jeremy: That sounds like a pretty good idea to me.
Fredrick scoffs again.
Jeremy: So I take it as a no?
Fredrick: No.
Jeremy: So a yes?
Fredrick grows more frustrated
Fredrick: No, I meant, yes
Jeremy: So… a yes?
Fredrick stands up aggressively and slowly walks away, looking exasperated.
Jeremy: No it is…
Fredrick returns to his seat and sits down like he was forced to.
Jeremy: Christ man… You said you’re the one in control but are you?
Fredrick: Who else would be in control of my life? Who else would be the driver in the seat of my car? Who else would be the pilot of my plane?
Jeremy: The herder of your sheep?
Fredrick: Precisely.
Jeremy: Who ever you choose.
Fredrick: Choose?
Jeremy: Does that answer really confuse you?
Fredrick: Obviously. It’s my life, how could I choose who runs it?
Jeremy: In saying that, are you not choosing to run it yourself?
Fredrick: No, my life was a responsibility thrust onto me from the moment I was born. Same with all of us. Whether we eat, sleep, fuck, it’s all up to us.
Jeremy: Strange… for one who has such conviction of their answers, you don’t behave like someone who makes all their choices themselves.
Fredrick: Use an example.
Jeremy: You believe that you’re ‘choosing’ to not drink with me, but this is a role you are playing. An ordinary person may decide to play whatever role they shall, and yet here you are, refusing to abandon a character who exists to suffer.
Fredrick: This is who I am. Any changes to this idea of ‘me’ are made by me, for me, and are only edits to ‘me’. I remain myself, regardless of how I change.
Jeremy: I know you believe that. I know in your heart of hearts you believe that to be true, but you’re mistaken my friend. What is ‘you’ is inelastic.
Fredrick: So people can’t change?
Jeremy: People cannot change and remain the same. This is oxymoronic.
Fredrick: What?
Jeremy: Come on, this is simple to validate; is a application the same software after each update?
Fredrick: Are you asking if photoshop 1.0 and photoshop 2.0 are the same?
Jeremy: Precisely.
Fredrick: 1.0 lacked some of the features of 2.0. It would be a rejection of reality to claim otherwise, but, you call it photoshop regardless of the update. No matter how you change it, it is still photoshop. No matter how I change myself, I am still Fredrick.
Jeremy scoffs.
Jeremy: You may share a name with your previous versions, but you are hardly the Fredrick I shared room and board with during our studies. No, it would be more accurate to call you Faraday, or Finnegan.
Fredrick: I fail to grasp where your oposition is.
Jeremy: Of course you do. You see your character as a painting without completion; a masterpiece with no end. You are doomed to keep painting until you can no longer hold a brush, never satisfied, never finished, yet so certain that victory is within your grasp. The carrot will remain dangling ever out of your reach if you maintain this perspective.
Fredrick: Oh please, do enlighten me on how I may remedy this issue.
Jeremy: Put down the brush and throw the entire bucket of paint on the canvas. Or maybe, use a roller instead of a brush. Or maybe, paint in reverse, tracing backwards from the finished product until you arrive at the start.
Fredrick: I think we’re getting a bit lost in metaphor.
Jeremy: Stop playing by the rules of the tormentus carrot. Chase after an apple instead. Or maybe, decide you’ll only chase the carrot between the hours of 3:46pm and 11:12am, and when you’re not chasing a carrot you are practising your juggling skills.
Fredrick places his palm on his forehead
Fredrick: I grow tired of this fable.
Jeremy: Fredrick grows tired of this fable, and yet you choose to remain here.
Fredrick: I AM Fredrick.
Jeremy: You are you. The skin you wear normally is that of Fredrick’s.
Fredrick: I didn’t realise I flayed myself before I came here.
Jeremy: You didn’t flay yourself. But your wife’s passing is a crack in the shell. Your armour is collapsing. The suit of iron that was your philosophy has failed to protect you when it mattered most, and it is exposing the truth.
Fredrick: And what truth is that?
Jeremy: That you want to have a drink with me.
Fredrick: Jeremy, please, I do not want that. I haven’t wanted that in over 20 years, I’ve abandoned that part of my life.
Jeremy: Don’t talk like that, they might get confused and think that you were an alcoholic.
Fredrick: They?
Jeremy: Don’t worry about that.
Fredrick shakes his head and takes a deep sigh.
Fredrick: I didn’t stop drinking because of alcoholism, I stopped drinking because she wanted me to.
Jeremy: And now she’s gone.
Fredrick: So I should descecrate her grave by drinking myself into a stupor the moment she isn’t around to chastise me for it?
Jeremy: She’s gone mate.
Fredrick: You didn’t answer my question.
Jeremy: She doesn’t care. She can’t. She’s beyond that capacity, or better yet, she’s detached herself from petty ideals such as abstinence.
Fredrick furrows his brow and points a finger at Jeremy
Fredrick: Careful.
Jeremy smiles in response
Jeremy: There we go…
Fredrick: So that’s all this is? You’re just trying to get a rise out me?
Jeremy: I respect you more than that. Please, understand that this comes from a place of concern for you.
Fredrick: A concerned friend wouldn’t disrespect my dead wife to my face.
Jeremy: Then that friend isn’t concerned enough for you.
Fredrick slams his fist onto the cooler
Fredrick: You were always so good at this. Using whatever backwards logic you want to justify your refusal to hold back for anyone’s sake. You are a twat, and always have been.
Jeremy: True that.
Fredrick grits his teeth and his fist clenches harder. Jeremy sips from his drink. Another siren is heard in the distance, Fredrick lifts his fist from the cooler and crosses his arms.
Jeremy: Why maintain the principle?
Fredrick: What?
Jeremy: That’s what it is right, a principle? The absistence I mean.
Fredrick: She would want me to.
Jeremy: Hmmm…. Does this tree want me not to cut it?
Fredrick: Of course it does! What kind of question is that, it’s a living organism and by cutting it down, you end its life.
Jeremy: But does it WANT to live. That is the key here.
Fredrick: All living beings exist to continue living, it is a basic physiological drive. They fail when they die.
Jeremy: Yet here you are, still breathing, recounting to me the story of a man who has ‘failed’.
Fredrick: My failure in life is separate from my failure to continue living.
Jeremy looks at his Fredrick with an ernest look in his eyes.
Jeremy: Is it?
Fredrick: You just said so yourself.
Jeremy: I guess I did… and in doing so, mislead you as to what I meant when I said living.
Fredrick: Go on.
Jeremy: To be alive and to live are different things. Countless times I have walked the streets of this concrete jungle, passing by animated corpse after animated corpse. They were already dead, and had no idea of it. The body had yet to catch up to the spirit.
Fredrick: What does this have to do with the tree?
Jeremy: Sure, the tree is alive. It’s cells perform metabolic functions. But can something like a tree truly live?
Fredrick: What is your answer?
Jeremy: Truth be told, I don’t know. Maybe the tree knows ultimate contentendess, never wanting for anything more than sunlight, water and nutrients. Perhaps every day the tree curses its existence, wishing to know more than this hill and the view of the city, wishing to contribute to this very conversation and yet lacking the means to.
A small gust of wind blows through the tree, rustling the leaves. Jeremy looks up to the branches before continuing.
Jeremy: Or maybe it curses me for not being able to interpret the rustling of its leaves.
Fredrick: If that were the case, apologese are in order.
Jeremy: I’m not one to apologise for ineptitude.
Fredrick: You’re barely one to apologise for anything.
Jeremy chuckles.
Jeremy: Touche.
Fredrick: So what of my wife?
Jeremy: She is the tree. Maybe as a corpse, she knows a higher and truer peace than any of us that are alive can. Maybe she calls to you from beyond.
Fredrick: I’m not a very spiritual person, and you know that.
Jeremy: All the more why it is shocking to me that you’re continuing not to drink.
Fredrick: What?
Jeremy: What ties you to her still?
Fredrick: I made her that promise while she was alive and I intend to keep it.
Jeremy: For whom?
Fredrick: For myself.
Jeremy: Oh?
Fredrick: I stick to my promises. It’s not about whether or not they know if I’ve broken it or not, it’s about the principles I choose to hold onto.
Jeremy shakes his head
Fredrick: What?
Jeremy: Choose… you choose to hold onto this principle…
Fredrick: Most would consider that honourable.
Jeremy: Most are idiots.
Jeremy laughs to himself, Fredrick shrugs his shoulders.
Jeremy: You’re holding onto a blade, sharpened on both sides, afraid to let go because to drop from this blade would mean to end that which you are.
Fredrick: Again, I’m not afraid of the can. I don’t think I would suddenly die-
Jeremy starts laughing again
Fredrick: What? What is it this time?
Jeremy: We just went over this old boy, to live and to be alive are different.
Fredrick groans
Fredrick: I don’t think that having one drink would suddenly destroy my entire persona.
Jeremy: Which is at odds with how unwilling you are to have this drink with me.
Fredrick: What would be the point?
Jeremy: That is, and always shall be, the real question.
Fredrick: So what is the point of me breaking my abstinence?
Jeremy: Your wife just died, and we’re going to be joining her soon enough. I deflect your question back towards you; what is the point of you maintaining your abstitence?
Fredrick: Because of a promise, that I am choosing to stick to. It was important to her.
Jeremy: My god mate, your logic is FUELED by convenience!
Fredrick looks taken aback
Fredrick: Convenience?
Jeremy: A less roman-
Fredrick: Less romantic than what?!
Jeremy: Less romantic than filling your head with silly ideas about ‘conviction’ and ‘honour’ and ‘principle’. Where has any of that gotten you?
Fredrick: It got me far enough to have a successful career and a wife who loved me.
Jeremy: And now both those things are gone! Yet you, ever vigilant want to idealistically hold onto them, despite knowing that they are gone yourself.
Fredrick grows more and more angry. Another siren is heard in the distance
Fredrick: How is any of this idealistic!?
Jeremy: How can you simultaneously believe that and yet hold on regardless?
Fredrick: I’ll tell you how you self-righteous prick! Because nothing needs to be perfect! People will die, decisions beyond me will have earth shattering consequences for my life and my ability to live it, and yet I – YES ME – choose to hold onto my principles!
Jeremy: She’s dead Fredrick.
Fredrick: I KNOW THAT! I KNOW IT BETTER THAN YOU!
Jeremy: Then have a drink with me.
Fredrick jumps out of his chair, throwing it out of the way. He is furious.
Fredrick: DO YOU WANT ME TO HIT YOU?! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!
Jeremy jumps out his chair, throwing it out of the way. He is calm.
Jeremy: All I want, is to have a drink with my friend for the final time.
Fredrick is breathing with intensity. His entire body is tense. He looks into Jeremy’s eyes, tears welling in his own.
Jeremy: Indifference is an ugly concept.
Fredrick: What?
Jeremy: And yet here you are, finally allowing yourself to touch beauty.
Fredrick: What are you saying!? What are you trying to tell me!?
Jeremy reaches down into the cooler, and opens another can, and holds it out to his friend, saying nothing. Fredrick slaps it out of his hand. Jeremy reaches down again, opening another can, holding it forward. Again, he says nothing. Fredrick growls as he slaps it out of his hand again, this time harder. Jeremy sighs, reaching down into the cooler and repeating himself once more. Fredrick shakes with anger, before screaming. Tears flow down his cheeks as he turns away and covers his face with his hands. Jeremy stands there, silent.
Fredrick: I didn’t want her to die. I didn’t want everything to come crashing down around me, and I don’t want to drink with you!
Jeremy continues to stand there silent. Fredrick turns back around after wiping his eyes, before scoffing again.
Fredrick: Why are you doing this?!
Jeremy: You’re in pain mate.
Fredrick: And what, you want me to drown it in alcohol?!
Jeremy: I’ve been consistent this entire time; I just want you to have a drink with me.
Fredrick takes a deep breath in.
Fredrick: WHAT IS A DRINK SUPPOSED TO DO FOR ME?!
Jeremy: You need to get there yourself, otherwise there would be no point. You need to stop chasing the carrot, stop painting the masterpiece, stop grasping the blade.
Fredrick is about to respond when he stops himself. Suddenly, he hears his wife’s final words to him. “Live on, without me.” His hands fall to his side.
Fredrick: She’s gone…
Jeremy: I know.
Fredrick: It’s all gone…
Jeremy: I know.
Fredrick: All that I’ve built… is gone…
Jeremy: I know.
Fredrick: It hurts… It hurts so much… But it was my everything. How can you ask me to let go of it?
Jeremy: You can let go. You’re the single authority on your life, right?
Fredrick: But it was my everything… Who will I be if I let go of it all?
Jeremy: That is up for you to decide. As it always has been.
Fredrick closes his eyes for a moment, before he approaches Jeremy.
Fredrick: What could I want for…
Jeremy: That is up for you to decide. As it always has been.
Fredrick: And if I can’t?
Jeremy: Then you’re no more alive than this tree.
Fredrick: Then… I’m no more alive… than my wife…
Jeremy smiles softly.
Jeremy: Would you like a drink?
Fredrick: And if I say no?
Jeremy: Then now I will accept that it is YOU who is telling me no.
Fredrick mulls it over for a second, before gently taking the drink from his friend.
Jeremy: Cheers.
Fredrick: Cheers.
The two men cheers their drinks, before they both take a hearty swig.
Fredrick: Ugh… I should’ve said no.
Jeremy breaks out into laughter, before the two men reset their seats and take them. They continue to drink in silence for some minutes. A siren is heard in the distance.
Jeremy: Life has been beautiful hasn’t it?
Fredrick: It was work, and play.
Jeremy: It was full and well spent.
Fredrick: It was… a life.
Jeremy: Believe it or not, I have my regrets too.
Fredrick: So all that talk about not holding on?
Jeremy: My only regret is that I clasped that which brought me anguish. I guess in the end, it’s impossible to hold onto nothing.
Fredrick: But you knew that all along didn’t you?
Jeremy: Of course!
Fredrick: So what do you hold onto?
Jeremy sips his drink, a sly smile crossing his face.
Jeremy: Whatever I choose to.
Jeremy breaks out into a laughing fit. Fredrick smiles, building to a chuckle, before he eventually joined in with Jeremy. The two men laughed, before breaking out into a fit of tears and wails. In the city, a flash of bright light appears out of nowhere nearly blinding them, before erupting into a powerful blast that nearly deafened them. Not able to hear one another, they both mutter at the same time.
Fredrick: It’s over…
Jeremy: It’s begun…
As the eruption grew and grew, devastating the city beneath them, the shockwave travelled and carried an incinerating heat. The two men were caught in it, dying immediately. Jeremy lived laughing, and Fredrick lived crying. Jeremy died laughing and Fredrick died crying.
-Fin-

Hey Mr Reddit, Hi Karen (lol) Hooah Reeeee ARMY. I'ma huge fan of your YT Channel...you, and some of your fans being ARMY Vets, may get a kick out of this story as told to me by an old friendof mine. (On mobile, and my smartphone is a smart ass phone that loves to autocorrect you when you don't want it and still allows you to misspell everything else)
I had a battle buddy stationed out in Hawaii with me, we were both crusty old SFCs (Sergeant First Class/E7s) and had been there and seen Everything in our respective careers and lives...let's call him SFC B. My brother, "B" is a large, muscular cholo from Cali with all the LA/Mexican prison-gang-like tattoos (everything but the tear drop or spider web)...he is also a tough, no BS, no lies, honest to goodness great friend and leader...miss him now that he's gone and retired. I'm Puerto Rican and from NY and surprisingly, our personalities matched perfectly, we got each other's jokes, and both of us being old farts (compared to a 19 yo Private) have seen it all.
For those of you who have heard of a "Ranger Wife" or met that spouse who likes to throw around their partners rank like a credit card, have I got a story for you! And before anyone loses their mind, my spouse is an ARMY Spouse, I give her all the credit for being amazing and holding our house together...I say this especially in case she reads this some how (lol) it's NOT the toughest job in the ARMY, but it's definitely up there.
So, B tells me one day that he was waiting on this line at the clinic for meds, as you do the older and more broken you get towards retirement in the Service (any Service Member from any branch, any country, anywhere can tell you the same)...and lines for meds are always going to take 5-ever. Sure as rain will fall in Hawaii, this 19 or 20 year old comes into the clinic and strolls past him on line, a line for which he was now going to be 2nd to being at bat for. She walks past him and right to the windows, almost pushing out the guy who was there to begin with, demanding she gets served next!
B, who takes Nooooo crap tells her with his Drill Sergeant voice, that she needs to go back to the end of the line and wait like everyone else. (Being ARMY forever, he was numb to waiting on lines, so this young female cutting the line made his PTSD flair up)
As you can guess, this ARMY Spouse shook her neck and snapped her fingers at the clerk behind the glass, trying to ignore this big dude talking very directly to her...which only made B draw more attention to her as now he gets out of line to try and put her back in line with less cordial and less eloquent words. Before he goes nuclear though, she says the words we all love to hear. "MY HUSBAND IS A SERGEANT AND HE WILL KICK YO ASS!!!" (she even said he outranked everyone there, therefore WE outranked everyone here)
B says he got eerily quite, which for this twitchy war vet, was an accomplishment, and told her to call him, he'd love to see him try. Now, if you've never played Rock, Paper, Rank before, 7 always beats 5. The two were asked to wait outside by some poor Specialist from the clinic and so B and this jr Karen waited outside the clinic for about 5 minutes.
No crap no lie, B says, this blacked out Dodge Charger pulls up quickly, up on the grass and this chicken hawk of a Soldier gets out, jaw clinched, fists balled, chest all puffed out and tries sliding up his sleeves a bitfor effect. B says he looked like he was about 6'2", 190, and about 25 years old...full of piss and vinegar...or at least he was till he laid eyes on B. B is about 6 flat, linebacker shoulders, and a face that says he'd happily kill you and eat your bones for disturbing his peace...then the rank on his chest burned a hole through whatever self confidence this young Sergeant (E5) had left. B described his as a mix between air getting let out of a tire and this guyalmost walking back into his car and driving off, the whole while, his poor, diluted Spouse kept shouting that B was gonna get his butt whooooped today.
B says he was going to hit this young Sergeant up with the old, faithful knife-hand, combed with a very loud, former Drill Sergeant sized "Parade Rest!" command, but he didn't. Instead of pulling the trigger, he got quieter, which must have been very scary, and told this Soldier to come around the corner and talk with him for a minute...which almost sounds like code for let's fight with no witnesses (lol)
B said he took pity on this poor NCO, who moped on behind him around the side of the building away from his spouse and asked him "Sarge, Did you just get married or something?"
B said his eyes got wide, like if B was Walter Mercado and had just saw into his soul or something. "Yea, how did you know?"
B laughed and said he married a Chola and understood...he was once a young stud with the same issue, a spouse who didn't understand rank or how much trouble a spouse could get you in. After a relaxed conversation and a bit of mentorship B said he got when in the same situation as this guy, he let him off easy. He told him to tell his spouse that she has no rank, she needs to chill, he loves her and that while he appreciates her thinking so highly of him, he's not the biggest, baddest, or highest ranked guy in the Army.
He told him that after a while, if you 2 can not screw it up or screw each other over, she could be the greatest part of his career, like Mrs B is.
Happy endings all around from the way B conveyed this story over a plate of "beer-b-q" carne asada. (Yummmm)
Hearing one of Mr Reddit's videos on my drive home about the ARMY Spouse at the PX who got told "and come back when your husband is more than just a Lieutenant" made me think back to my old pal SFC B.
If you're out there reading this story Battle, we miss you here back in Hawaii
Thanks Mr Reddit and I hope you all have a great day! Aloha!

Hello,
Background: 27 Years Male, with a Good Career and a Beautiful Wife. I don't use Headphones often, and I don't usually listen to music at high volumes. I used to wear my Airpods to sleep listening to Podcasts at a very moderate volume. I am moderately overweight, and I have High Blood Pressure that I was still trying to control. Good
Incident: 26 Days ago (May 5th) I foolishly went to an Outdoor Gun Range with friends, I was given earplugs but unfortunately, they slipped multiple times and I shot multiple rounds without hearing protection and unfortunately, nobody directed me that this was stupid. We shot Pistols, Shotguns, and Semi Auto Guns. This was my first time shooting.
After the shooting, my ears were muffed and I was barely able to hear, I had temporary Tinnitus for maybe 1 hour after the shooting but it had gone away. For the next 3 days, I noticed I barely heard high frequencies (like Microwave beeps)... but after 3 days this started to recover and I was 100% normal after 1 week. I even went to a grocery store and to a restaurant and didn't feel any discomfort.
Symptoms: 16 Days ago (10 Days after shooting range) I started hearing a very mild ringing in my Right Ear, that became louder after a day, I also started feeling that I am sensitive to sounds (some sounds were piercing through my head), it was my Birthday and a lot was going on so I didn't bother. 2 days later the sound now became very obtrusive and I started googling... and now the Panic started! It was the weekend, and I scheduled an Appointment with ENT right after the weekend. During the weekend my Blood Pressure was 190/95! (up from its average 145~150/85-90)
At the ENT I had a hearing test and it showed a mild loss in the right ear in the 4K and 6K frequencies (30db).
14 Days after the shooting range, and 4 days since the symptoms started I received my first Dexamethasone shot directly to the ears, and I received a total of 3 Shots over A WEEK (8 days to be exact). I didn't get Oral Steroids because I was too anxious and unstable already. It's been 4 days since my 3rd shot.
Over this week I was in a super panic mode, I was not able to calm down and I only slept because I had no energy left, I cried, I wept, and I was angry and depressed, my wife was supportive but I am not sure for how long can I drain her beautiful soul.
I have since started limiting myself to reading success stories and listening to Podcasts about people who recovered.
I cannot deny that there has been a slight improvement since my symptoms started over 2 weeks ago. The first few days the ringing was LOUD, but I figured that when I got to quiet places the ringing started decreasing to be more like buzzing, the improvement happened with how fast I could go to this buzzing state.
Here are a few things I noticed about my Tinnitus and me in General:

1. It's reactive, specific sounds will flare up and increase the tone in my head, it goes from Buzzing to Ringing from the simplest exposure to specific sounds (especially running water).
2. I don't think I have Hyperacusis by the definition people here describe, it's not painful, it's the louder noises that increase my Tinnitus which causes me huge discomfort (but I wouldn't call it pain per se).
3. White Noise increases my Tinnitus but It's able to mask it. However, I prefer to sit in a quiet room and it decreases to the baseline electrical buzzing that I can tolerate more. Then I try to sleep listening to Podcasts.
4. On the second day of the Symptoms, I remember Yawning and ringing stopped for 5 minutes! Haven't been able to recreate this again.
5. I have a swollen wisdom tooth on the left side that has been swelling since the symptoms, this came and went before in my life, not sure if it's relevant, but swelling often also increases when Tinnitus increases (but so does the panic so might be a coincidence)
6. I used to clench on my teeth when stressed, 1 month before the symptoms my jaw would sometimes hurt from my clenching, but I became thoughtful of this and was able to recover.
7. When I wake up in the middle of the night my brain is probably filtering out the ringing, but the moment I move it starts to ring again.
8. When I plug my ears with my fingers and move my jaw, I can feel some rattling/roughness in the right ear, I can't describe the sound, but it feels like it's not "well-oiled". My ENT said that this could be due to my brain amplifying all noises from my right ear, but I don't believe this because I can physically feel differences.
9. The biggest spike I had happened when I was sleeping, I woke up to the biggest spike and I was in a quiet room.

I accept that I have made a mistake, I hope to fully recover, but If I can't, is there is a chance I'll get better to the level that it doesn't bother me ? I am looking for your support.
Thank you.

"Give me the man and I will give you the case against him," said Soviet secret police chief Lavrentiy Beria. They could find the defendant guilty of something if they so desired. Emotions over structure. A political game over justice. Corruption over truth. Ideology over everything.
I’m trying to understand what has happened to Donald Trump and how his conviction will affect America in the long run. He was convicted on all 34 charges and he probably will go to jail. Whatever they blame him for committing, they committed themselves. Trump didn’t jail his political opponent; they did, or at least they are openly trying to do so, as the Soviet Union leaders did in my home country.
I always thought that you must listen carefully to the political speech of anyone who runs for president. If his speech fills you with fear and hopelessness, if his ideas divide Americans, he shouldn’t be president of this great nation. I watched Trump and I felt love and pride for America, great unity. I watched Biden and I felt hopelessness and fear before this country in its racial and ideological division.
We are one step away from tyranny. We always are. So many of us are afraid to speak our minds. The line has been crossed. Trump in jail is a real possibility. Jailing your political opponents on trumped-up charges might become normal for this country, and what then? The Constitution, the Bill of Rights, everything that makes this country great would become irrelevant.
I love America. And when you truly love something, you have to be able to defend it. We have degraded love into promiscuous sex and true patriotism into fearful niceness. So many of us pretend to be free until one day you decide to exercise your freedom, and what then? It’s like having a wife who cheats on you, but you pretend that she’s not, and you both keep living in this denial until one day it’s too hard not to notice the reality of your miserable existence. The same with freedom. You have to fight for what you believe. Today you might be banned from social media for your views or lose your job. Tomorrow you might lose your freedom or your life.
Freedom is something that must be constantly defended. Don’t give away your freedom for comfort; you might end up with neither. Who said that? Benjamin Franklin? Weakness runs on emotions and ignorance. Have you seen Robert DeNiro’s attempt to speak up in front of the courthouse? Quite pitiful.
I don’t understand this hate toward Donald Trump. As an immigrant and an American citizen, I voted for him once and I will vote for him again. We mustn’t be afraid to express ourselves because if we are, we already aren’t free but chained to a train that is going straight toward an authoritarian regime. And let me tell you, it’s no fun to live under it. I know; I was born in the Soviet Union.
And if you think guns would help you, think again. At first, they would make laws confusing and selective. This would train you to doubt common sense and the idea of self-defense in general. Then they will begin putting people in jail for their ideas and for exercising their rights. Gradually, you will notice that you are afraid to express your ideas and begin self-censoring yourself. They will get into your head with their repetitive slogans until you realize that you’re afraid to think outside the box of the ideology enforced on you. People who are afraid to think have no ground under their feet. If you have no ground under your feet, a gun in your hands is just a useless toy that would never dare to fire because the finger on the trigger is being controlled by a mind that, in turn, is being controlled by the government.
George Washington said, “A free people ought not only to be armed, but disciplined; to which end a uniform and well-digested plan is requisite.” Yes, we are well-armed, but are we disciplined? Are we disciplined enough to understand the importance of the current situation? Will we vote knowingly and reasonably, or emotionally and angrily, or not vote at all? Washington also said, “The value of liberty was thus enhanced in our estimation by the difficulty of its attainment, and the worth of characters appreciated by the trial of adversity.” The trial is here. We will see if we truly value our liberty and have characters in us that are worth it. We will see if we are still truly Americans in the sense the Founding Fathers saw Americans. We will see if we are still worthy of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Not the right to be happy, but the right to pursue our own individual happiness, which makes us happy in the pursuit. We will see if we are still worthy to have the idea of the United States of America.
It’s not enough to be an American just because you happened to be born in this country. To be truly American, you have to love your freedom and be willing to die for it. To be an American is to love individuality, independence, and strength. Why did the bald eagle become a national American symbol? Because it flies high and alone. Because it has pride and independence. Because it never feeds off someone’s hand. It always gets its food by itself. Because it can never be domesticated and turned into a chicken.
Visit my Blog

Hello,
Background: 27 Years Male, with a Good Career and a Beautiful Wife. I don't use Headphones often, and I don't usually listen to music at high volumes. I used to wear my Airpods to sleep listening to Podcasts at a very moderate volume. I am moderately overweight, and I have High Blood Pressure that I was still trying to control. Good
Incident: 26 Days ago (May 5th) I foolishly went to an Outdoor Gun Range with friends, I was given earplugs but unfortunately, they slipped multiple times and I shot multiple rounds without hearing protection and unfortunately, nobody directed me that this was stupid. We shot Pistols, Shotguns, and Semi Auto Guns. This was my first time shooting.
After the shooting, my ears were muffed and I was barely able to hear, I had temporary Tinnitus for maybe 1 hour after the shooting but it had gone away. For the next 3 days, I noticed I barely heard high frequencies (like Microwave beeps)... but after 3 days this started to recover and I was 100% normal after 1 week. I even went to a grocery store and to a restaurant and didn't feel any discomfort.
Symptoms: 16 Days ago (10 Days after shooting range) I started hearing a very mild ringing in my Right Ear, that became louder after a day, I also started feeling that I am sensitive to sounds (some sounds were piercing through my head), it was my Birthday and a lot was going on so I didn't bother. 2 days later the sound now became very obtrusive and I started googling... and now the Panic started! It was the weekend, and I scheduled an Appointment with ENT right after the weekend. During the weekend my Blood Pressure was 190/95! (up from its average 145~150/85-90)
At the ENT I had a hearing test and it showed a mild loss in the right ear in the 4K and 6K frequencies (30db).
14 Days after the shooting range, and 4 days since the symptoms started I received my first Dexamethasone shot directly to the ears, and I received a total of 3 Shots over A WEEK (8 days to be exact). I didn't get Oral Steroids because I was too anxious and unstable already. It's been 4 days since my 3rd shot.
Over this week I was in a super panic mode, I was not able to calm down and I only slept because I had no energy left, I cried, I wept, and I was angry and depressed, my wife was supportive but I am not sure for how long can I drain her beautiful soul.
I have since started limiting myself to reading success stories and listening to Podcasts about people who recovered.
I cannot deny that there has been a slight improvement since my symptoms started over 2 weeks ago. The first few days the ringing was LOUD, but I figured that when I got to quiet places the ringing started decreasing to be more like buzzing, the improvement happened with how fast I could go to this buzzing state.
Here are a few things I noticed about my Tinnitus and me in General:

1. It's reactive, specific sounds will flare up and increase the tone in my head, it goes from Buzzing to Ringing from the simplest exposure to specific sounds (especially running water).
2. I don't think I have Hyperacusis by the definition people here describe, it's not painful, it's the louder noises that increase my Tinnitus which causes me huge discomfort (but I wouldn't call it pain per se).
3. White Noise increases my Tinnitus but It's able to mask it. However, I prefer to sit in a quiet room and it decreases to the baseline electrical buzzing that I can tolerate more. Then I try to sleep listening to Podcasts.
4. On the second day of the Symptoms, I remember Yawning and ringing stopped for 5 minutes! Haven't been able to recreate this again.
5. I have a swollen wisdom tooth on the left side that has been swelling since the symptoms, this came and went before in my life, not sure if it's relevant, but swelling often also increases when Tinnitus increases (but so does the panic so might be a coincidence)
6. I used to clench my teeth when stressed, 1 month before the symptoms my jaw would sometime hurt from my clenching, but I became thoughtful of this and was able to recover.
7. When I wake up in the middle of the night my brain is probably filtering out the ringing, but the moment I move it starts to ring again.
8. When I plug my ears with my fingers and move my jaw, I can feel some rattling/roughness in the right ear, I can't describe the sound, but it feels like it's not "well-oiled". My ENT said that this could be due to my brain amplifying all noises from my right ear, but I don't believe this because I can physically feel differences.
9. The biggest spike I had happened when I was sleeping, I woke up to the biggest spike and I was in a quiet room.

I accept that I have made a mistake, and I hope to fully recover, but If I can't, is there is a chance I'll get better to the level that it doesn't bother me ? I am looking for your support.

Hello,
Background: 27 Years Male, with a Good Career and a Beautiful Wife. I don't use Headphones often, and I don't usually listen to music at high volumes. I used to wear my Airpods to sleep listening to Podcasts at a very moderate volume. I am moderately overweight, and I have High Blood Pressure that I was still trying to control. Good
Incident: 26 Days ago (May 5th) I foolishly went to an Outdoor Gun Range with friends, I was given earplugs but unfortunately, they slipped multiple times and I shot multiple rounds without hearing protection and unfortunately, nobody directed me that this was stupid. We shot Pistols, Shotguns, and Semi Auto Guns. This was my first time shooting.
After the shooting, my ears were muffed and I was barely able to hear, I had temporary Tinnitus for maybe 1 hour after the shooting but it had gone away. For the next 3 days, I noticed I barely heard high frequencies (like Microwave beeps)... but after 3 days this started to recover and I was 100% normal after 1 week. I even went to a grocery store and to a restaurant and didn't feel any discomfort.
Symptoms: 16 Days ago (10 Days after shooting range) I started hearing a very mild ringing in my Right Ear, that became louder after a day, I also started feeling that I am sensitive to sounds (some sounds were piercing through my head), it was my Birthday and a lot was going on so I didn't bother. 2 days later the sound now became very obtrusive and I started googling... and now the Panic started! It was the weekend, and I scheduled an Appointment with ENT right after the weekend. During the weekend my Blood Pressure was 190/95! (up from its average 145~150/85-90)
At the ENT I had a hearing test and it showed a mild loss in the right ear in the 4K and 6K frequencies (30db).
14 Days after the shooting range, and 4 days since the symptoms started I received my first Dexamethasone shot directly to the ears, and I received a total of 3 Shots over A WEEK (8 days to be exact). I didn't get Oral Steroids because I was too anxious and unstable already. It's been 4 days since my 3rd shot.
Over this week I was in a super panic mode, I was not able to calm down and I only slept because I had no energy left, I cried, I wept, and I was angry and depressed, my wife was supportive but I am not sure for how long can I drain her beautiful soul.
I have since started limiting myself to reading success stories and listening to Podcasts about people who recovered.
I cannot deny that there has been a slight improvement since my symptoms started over 2 weeks ago. The first few days the ringing was LOUD, but I figured that when I got to quiet places the ringing started decreasing to be more like buzzing, the improvement happened with how fast I could go to this buzzing state.
Here are a few things I noticed about my Tinnitus and me in General:

1. It's reactive, specific sounds will flare up and increase the tone in my head, it goes from Buzzing to Ringing from the simplest exposure to specific sounds (especially running water).
2. I don't think I have Hyperacusis by the definition people here describe, it's not painful, it's the louder noises that increase my Tinnitus which causes me huge discomfort (but I wouldn't call it pain per se).
3. White Noise increases my Tinnitus but It's able to mask it. However, I prefer to sit in a quiet room and it decreases to the baseline electrical buzzing that I can tolerate more. Then I try to sleep listening to Podcasts.
4. On the second day of the Symptoms, I remember Yawning and ringing stopped for 5 minutes! Haven't been able to recreate this again.
5. I have a swollen wisdom tooth on the left side that has been swelling since the symptoms, this came and went before in my life, not sure if it's relevant, but swelling often also increases when Tinnitus increases (but so does the panic so might be a coincidence)
6. I used to clench on my teeth when stressed, 1 month before the symptoms my jaw would sometime hurt from my clenching, but I became thoughtful of this and was able to recover.
7. When I wake up in the middle of the night my brain is probably filtering out the ringing, but the moment I move it starts to ring again.
8. When I plug my ears with my fingers and move my jaw, I can feel some rattling/roughness in the right ear, I can't describe the sound, but it feels like it's not "well-oiled". My ENT said that this could be due to my brain amplifying all noises from my right ear, but I don't believe this because I can physically feel differences.
9. The biggest spike I had happened when I was sleeping, I woke up to the biggest spike and I was in a quiet room.

I accept that I have made a mistake, I hope to fully recover, but If I couldn't, is there is a chance I'll get better to the level that it doesn't bother me ? I am looking for your support.
Thank you.

”Stop.”
I really needed the bathroom.
For fifty painstaking minutes, I had been staring at the clock on the wall, willing it to go faster, uncomfortably shifting side to side in my seat so much that I was starting to get weird looks.
2:52pm.
Eight minutes, I thought dizzily, squeezing my legs together.
Which was just two chunks of four minutes.
Four chunks of two minutes.
The pain started like normal stomach pain, the kind I could deal with.
I swallowed two Tylenol with lukewarm soda.
But this was different.
This kind of pain was contorting and twisting my gut so much, I had to keep leaning onto my left buttock for relief.
I must have done it so many times, I caught the attention of the guy sitting next to me. Roman Hemlock who was half asleep, dark blonde curls hanging in half lidded eyes, his chin leaning on his fist. He shot me a look. I couldn't tell if it was Are you okay? or Can you stop moving around so much?
From the single crease in his brow, the slight curl in his lip, I guessed the latter.
It's not like Roman was helping.
For half the class, he'd been tapping his foot on the floor, then his chair leg, and to complete the orchestra, his fingers joined in, tap, tap, tapping on the edge of his desk. I didn't know if it was a bored thing, an ADHD thing, or he was trying to keep himself awake. It was easy to tolerate without the pain, but with it, the boy’s incessant tapping was more akin to a dentist drill splitting my skull open. I already felt nauseous, the sad looking chicken nuggets I forced down at lunch making an unwelcome appearance at the back of my throat.
It was too fucking hot, the stuffy summer air glueing my hair to the back of my neck. The material of my shirt was making me cringe, sticky against my skin.
Tipping my head back, the lights were too bright. Every sound was too loud. Imogen Prairie, who was sitting behind me chewing her gum a little too loudly.
Kaz Samuels scribbling notes like a maniac.
I could hear every stroke of his pencil, every time he paused, looked up at the presentation, and continued writing.
When I leaned forward in my chair, I could smell exactly what Isabella Trinity had eaten for lunch, the stink hanging in the air.
It became a case of sucking in my stomach and taking slow, deep breaths.
I’d never had these kinds of stomach cramps before. But it didn't take me long to figure out what they were.
I was yet to start my period at the grand age of sixteen, which meant this was it.
After countless sessions with the doctor, and feeling like a social outcast among my group of friends who started their periods in middle school, it had finally happened. The cramps in my gut that felt like my torso was being ripped apart, was in fact me entering womanhood. When my breath started to quicken, my mouth watering, I raised my hand, biting my lip against a cry.
Fuck.
Something lurched in my gut, a wave of nausea crashing into me.
I was going to throw up.
“Mr Brighton.”
Roman spoke up before me, waving his arm. “Can I use the bathroom?”
The teacher’s answer was always the same. Which was why I had been crossing my legs for the entirety of the class, unable to focus on anything but my gut trying to twist itself inside out.
Mr Brighton leaned against the wall, his eyes glued to the PowerPoint awash in our faces. We had been staring at the exact same slide for maybe five minutes now, and our physics teacher was yet to speak, his gaze somewhere else.
Mr Brighton was my Dad’s age, a greying man in his early fifties who always wore the exact same suit with the exact same stain on his collar.
The man was about as interesting as watching paint dry.
Normally, I would drift off myself, lulled into slumber by the low drone of his voice.
But the pain ripping me apart was keeping me awake.
“Mr Brighton.” Roman said, louder. His voice snapped me out of it. “Can I use the bathroom?” He paused, exaggerating a loud sigh. ”Please?”
The teacher straightened up, folding his arms.
“Mr Hemlock, you know the rules. Why didn't you go before class?”
“I didn't need to go an hour ago, did I?”
“You will no longer need to go to the bathroom, Mr Hemlock.”
Roman made a snorting noise.
“What?”
The low murmur of my classmates collapsed into white noise.
Glancing at the clock, I was anticipating the school bell.
The sickness swimming in the pit of my belly was reaching dangerous territory.
2:52pm.
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
It was 2:52 the last time I checked, and five minutes had surely passed.
This time, I waited a whole minute and counted the seconds under my breath. The clock still didn't move. The ticker was frozen halfway between three and four.
Slowly, the same realisation began to hit the twelve of us. The clock on the wall had stopped. But it wasn't the only thing that had stopped. The cool breeze drifting through the window was gone.
The sound of birds outside, and the cheer squad practising their routine.
Everything had stopped. Trying to ignore a sickly slither of panic twisting its way through me, I checked my phone under my desk. There was a text from my Mom lighting up my notifications. When I tried to swipe it open, nothing happened. My lock screen was frozen, stuck at 2:52pm.
With my hands growing clammy around my phone, I stared at the time, willing it to move, to flick to 2:53.
But nothing happened, the numbers stubbornly staying at 2:52.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Roman’s voice brought me back to reality, though I was sure I'd dropped my phone. I heard it hit the floor with a sickening crack. Whatever he was saying, though, faded into dull murmur, when I turned toward the window.
Something was wrong outside.
The cheer squad were nowhere to be seen.
Being on the top floor gave us a front row seat to their practice sessions.
I stopped watching when their flyer did a death defying flip, almost breaking her neck. 2:52pm. I couldn't see the cheer squad. But I did see Jessie Carson mid-sprint across the track field, strawberry blonde curls suspended in a halo around her.
I could see exactly where she had frozen in place, her left foot hovering off of the ground, her right foot driving momentum. It wasn't just Jessie who had stopped. The dirt she was kicking into a cloud behind her was hovering, caught in mid-air.
Studying the faces around me, my mouth went dry.
Roman Hemlock, mid-argument with our physics teacher.
His eyes were wide, lips curved into what would have been a yell.
Fuck.
Was I the only one?
But then Roman blinked, and I realized the boy wasn't frozen. He was trying to think of a comeback. “What do you mean I won't need the bathroom anymore?”
“Mr Hemlock, please lower your voice.”
“Why? You can't dictate to me when I do and don't need the bathroom, dude!”
Moving onto the rest of my class, the others were still moving.
It was too quiet, though.
Yes, Roman was still tapping his foot.
Imogen was still chewing her gum.
Kaz was still scribbling notes like a psychopath.
But they were the only noise I could hear.
I wasn't the only one confused. The classroom had pricked with a sense of urgency. Kids were checking their phones, their gazes glued to the clock. Even Roman, who was still arguing, was starting to notice. I watched his gaze lazily roll to the clock on the wall.
I pretended not to see his cheeks visibly paling.
We had all come to the exact same terrifying conclusion.
2:52pm.
Time had come to a halt, and somehow, we had not.
“Is that clock broken?” Roman interrupted, leaning forward in his chair.
Kaz twisted around, settling the boy with an eye-roll.
“Check your phone, dumbass.”
“I broke my phone.”
Imogen threw her iPhone at him, narrowly missing hitting him in the face.
“Everything is frozen,” She said, her voice shuddering. “It's not just the clock.”
I waited for Roman’s response. For once, though, he was speechless.
“Well done, Imogen. That is correct.” Mr Brighton spoke up, tearing a piece of paper from a workbook and striding over to the door, glueing it over the glass window. When we started to protest, some of us were shouting, while others bursting into tears, he calmly took out his key and locked us in.
I should have been surprised that our teacher had spontaneously decided to take his entire class hostage, but the rumor mill had been churning.
According to Becca Jason, the guy’s wife divorced him and took his kids.
I could feel myself sinking into my chair, phantom bugs filling my mouth.
So, this guy had nothing to lose.
Taking his place in front of his desk, the man settled us with a patient smile.
“From now on, you will stay inside this room.” He said. “In case you haven't noticed, time is currently frozen at fifty two minutes past two. The thirteen of us are tucked into the twenty first second, and will be, for the foreseeable future.”
I could tell the others wanted to argue, but we couldn't deny that time had stopped. Kaz was staring down at his frozen phone, Imogen hyperventilating behind me, Roman glaring at the clock, chewing on a pencil. We wanted it to be a prank, a joke, some kind of glitch in the matrix that would fix itself.
But then a whole minute passed by. Followed by another. Kaz threw his phone on the floor, hissing in frustration. Imogen let out a wet sounding sob.
Roman’s pencil split in his mouth, slipping from his fingers. We couldn't pretend it wasn't happening or call our teacher out on his BS, because it was everywhere around us. The sudden absence of outdoor ambience, birdsong, planes flying overhead, and traffic outside the school gates. Everyone and everything had stopped, and we were the only ones left.
This was a nightmare, surely.
My physics class were some of the most boring and pretentious people in the school, and somehow the world had been reduced to the twelve of us inside our classroom. We were scared, of course we were. But reality had stopped making sense, crashing and burning in a single second. We had no choice but to listen to our teacher. “Now, before you freak out, it may not feel like it, but the twelve of you have also stopped.”
Mr Brighton held out his own hand, and placed it on his heart.
He was right.
I was so busy trying to understand what was happening, I had failed to realize my period cramps were gone.
“Do me a favor, and press your hand over your heart.”
“You mean like, in a culty way?” Imogen whispered.
“Obviously.” Roman grumbled, halfway out of his seat. He was hesitant, though, in case our teacher was armed. It only took one glance from our teacher, and he slumped back into his chair. “This crazy fucker clearly wants to play mind games with us.”
“No, I'm just asking you to feel for your heart.”
I felt for mine, and there was nothing, my stomach twisting.
Roman stabbed his fingers into his neck, feeling for a pulse.
He tried his wrist.
Then his heart.
Nothing.
“The twelve of you are currently in a state of stasis,” the teacher explained to us, “You are not alive, nor are you dead. Your bodily functions are also on pause, such as your heartbeat and your pulse. In this state there will be no need for food and water, or going to the bathroom.” His gaze found a ghastly looking Roman, who looked like he was going to faint. “Your minds, however, as you can see, are working as usual.”
“But why?” Imogen demanded in a shriek.
Mr Brighton’s lip curled. “I would rather not answer that question.”
“Because you're lonely.” Roman spoke up. He swung back on his chair, narrowed eyes glued to the teacher.
“Your wife and kids left you, so you're asserting power over a group of sixteen year olds. Which is kinda fucking pathetic.”
Mr Brighton’s expression darkened, and something slimy crept up my throat.
The worst thing any of us could do was threaten him. He had taken kidnapping to a whole new level, and we were alone with this psychopath, trapped inside a second. I waited for the man to stride forward and attack the kid. But he didn't. Instead, the teacher leaned back on his desk. “Yes.” The man nodded.
“I suppose you could say I am.”
“But why us?!” Kaz hissed.
“Because you are children.” Mr Brighton responded casually.
He straightened up, taking slow, intimidating steps towards Roman’s desk. The rest of us leaned back. I tried to pull my desk with me, but it was glued to the floor. Frozen. Mr Brighton’s shoes went click-clack across the hardwood floor.
“You are right,” the man said in a murmur, “I am lonely. My wife and kids did leave me, and I have nobody left to control. I have nobody else to contort and use to my advantage.” Reaching Roman’s desk, he leaned in close until he was nose to nose with the kid.
“Congratulations, Mr Hemlock. You have just earned yourself detention.”
Roman stayed stubbornly still, but he was visibly afraid. I could see him very slowly backing away. Roman was all bark and no bite. He was a loud mouth, sure, but he was also the least confrontational person in the class.
“What?” He spluttered. “You trap us in a time loop or time trap, or whatever, and you still want to act like a teacher?”
“Stand up.” The teacher ordered.
“What if I don't?”
Mr Brighton’s expression didn't waver. “You said it yourself. I can and have trapped you inside a single second. What else do you think I'm capable of?”
Roman stood, kicking his chair out of the way.
“What are you planning on doing to me, old man?”
The teacher maintained his smile. “Stand up straight, and close your mouth.”
To my confusion, Roman Hemlock did all the above.
He straightened up, and closed his mouth.
“Do not fight me.” The teacher said calmly, “Do as you are told, and follow me.”
The boy did exactly as instructed.
His jaw slackened, that rebellious light in his eyes fizzling out.
I think that's when we all collectively agreed that going against this teacher and trying to escape was mental suicide.
“I will use Mr Hemlock as an example to all of you,” Mr Brighton said, turning to the rest of us. “If you break the rules or are derogatory in any way, you will be given detention.”
He grabbed the boy’s shoulders, forcing him to walk towards the supply closet. Roman moved like a robot, slightly off balance, his gaze glued to thin air, like he was tracking invisible butterflies.
"Your time in detention will depend on the severity of your rule-break.” He opened the door, gently pushing Roman inside, and following suit. When the door closed behind them, there was a pause, and I remembered how to breathe.
Kaz Samuels slowly got up from his desk, inching towards the closet.
“This guy is a certified nut.” He announced.
He turned towards us. “Whatever he's doing to Hemlock, we’re probably next.”
“He stopped time.” I spoke up, my own voice barely a croak. “He’s capable of anything.”
“But how did he stop time?” Kaz whistled, tipping his head back. The boy was slow, his fingers grasping each desk as he slid down the aisle. “He said he was lonely, right? But why take it out on us? What did we do to him?”
“Check his desk for a weapon!” Imogen whisper-shrieked.
Kaz nodded, striding over to the man's desk, his hands moving frantically, shoving paper on the floor. He took an uncertain seat on the man's chair. “There's nothing here,” he murmured, lifting stained coffee mugs and ancient textbooks. “It's just…test papers.” Kaz ducked from view, trying the drawers.
“He's a fan of Pokémon,” he said, “There's a tonne of Pokémon cards,” Kaz straightened up, running a hand through his hair. “No sign of a weapon, though.”
He picked up a ruler, waving it around. “This could work. If we plunge it in his eye.”
“Try his laptop!” Imogen was halfway out of her seat.
Kaz did, slamming the keys. “It's locked.”
“Look harder!” Ren Clarke threw a pencil at him.
“I am!”
After a minute of searching, Kaz grabbed a single piece of paper.
He held it up, and I squinted.
It was a list of our names, with several of them highlighted.
“Fuck.” Kaz dropped the list, his expression crumpling. The stubborn bravado facade transforming him into our sort of leader dissipated, hollowing him out into exactly what he was. Just a scared kid. Kaz’s hands were shaking.
“Mr Brighton’s got a hit list.” He whispered. “He's going to kill us.”
“How do you know that?” I found myself asking.
Kaz slowly dropped into a crouch, picking up the paper and holding it up.
“Look.” He pointed to a capitalised name at the top of the list highlighted in red.
ROMAN HEMLOCK.
There were six names highlighted in red, including mine.
CRISTA ADAMS.
As if on cue, Roman’s cry rang out from the supply closet, suddenly, freezing us all in place. Kaz jumped up, adapting the expression of a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide, almost unseeing.
He fell over himself to tidy up the desk, putting everything back where he had found it, sliding the list between a pile of test papers. Kaz took slow, stumbled steps back, his feverish gaze glued to the closet, before turning and making a break for it and diving into his seat.
“Brighton’s got a hit liiiist,” Kaz said, in a mocking sing-song, “And we’re all on it.”
What followed was deathly silence. I think we were expecting Roman to cry out again. But when he didn't, the class started to stir. Some kids started praying to a god they didn't believe in, while others were in varying states of denial, trying to call their parents with dead phones.
I wasn't sure what parts of me had stopped, but I was still alive, still felt like my lungs were deprived of oxygen, my chest aching. I'm not sure how long I sat there, trying to find my voice, a shriek trying and failing to rip through my mouth. Being kidnapped and held hostage is one thing, but being imprisoned inside a single, never ending second, was an existential hell worse than death. Slowly, I pressed my palm over my heart once again. Then I breathed into my cupped hands.
I was expecting it, but no longer being able to feel my own heartbeat and breath, was fear I didn't think was possible. The kind that glued me to my seat, hollowing me out completely until I was nothing, an empty shell with no heartbeat, no breath, no thoughts, except denial, followed by acceptance.
And finally, regret.
I regretted not hugging my mother goodbye before I left for school.
I regretted acting like a spoiled brat when my parents refused to drive me halfway across the country so I could attend Coachella.
I regretted stepping inside Mr Brighton’s fourth period physics class.
Mr Brighton reappeared, slamming the door behind him and locking the boy inside. Part of me flinched, while the rest of me remembered not to move a muscle. I was barely aware of time passing. Or it wasn't. Time had stopped, so now long had I been sitting there?
I could no longer measure the passage of time with hunger or thirst, and my body felt the same. I wasn't stiff or tired or achy. Looking out of the window, the sky was the exact same crystal blue, every cloud in the exact same place.
Jessie Carson was still frozen mid-run, strands of dark red hair caught around her.
“What's wrong with you guys?” Mr Brighton chuckled, and I twisted back to the front, a shiver writhing down my spine. “Why don't you give me a smile?”
The teacher returned to his desk, and I was already subconsciously sitting up straight in my seat, forcing my lips into a jaw-breaking grin, following Brighton’s instructions. In the corner of my eye, Imogen was sitting very still, forcing an award-winning cheesy smile, while Kaz grinned through gritted teeth.
“Mr Hemlock just earned himself two weeks inside the supply closet.” he said casually, perching himself on the edge of his desk. The man studied each of us, taking his time to rip every shred of us apart.
Mind, body, and soul.
I struggled to maintain my stupid smile, shoving my shaking hands in my lap.
“Would anyone like to join him, or are you going to follow the rules?”
The rest of us stayed silent. I don't think any of us breathed.
Our teacher nodded to Kaz, inclining his head.
“Samuels. Are you all right?”
Kaz’s smile faltered slightly. He shifted in his chair. I could see sweat trickling down his right temple. “Uh, yeah.” He swiped at his forehead, like he couldn't believe he was sweating. “Yeah, I'm good.”
The teacher’s eyes narrowed. He moved toward his desk, and we all held our breaths. Mr Brighton seemed to study his hit-list, lips curving into a frown.
His gaze flicked to the boy, and then the paper.
He knew, I thought dizzily.
Mr Brighton knew the kid had been rummaging through his desk. But this was all about control. The teacher was using fear to control us, to manipulate our thoughts without having to get physical. He could have called out the boy right then, but Brighton was settling with mental torture instead. He just wanted to make my classmate squirm.
Without a word, the man folded up the piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket. “Mr Samuels, you are sweating,” our physics teacher said, mocking a frown. “Are you feeling okay?”
Kaz hesitated, tapping his shoe in a rhythm.
Being one of the smartest kids in the room definitely gave him an advantage.
I could already see the cogs turning behind half lidded eyes. Kaz was weighing each scenario, sorting them into positives and negatives.
The positives of answering would mean he was one step towards being in the clear, but there were two negatives.
Brighton would question him if he had left his seat, and then demand how his hit-list had magically moved across the desk.
Talking back was surely a rule-break, as well as outright lying.
Opening his mouth would get him in trouble, either way, and Kaz knew that.
So, he just nodded, forcing an even bigger smile.
Brighton’s lips pricked, his gaze straying on Kaz. “Good!” He cleared his throat, turning to the class. Kaz slumped in his seat with a sharp breath, resting his head in his arms. If Mr Brighton noticed, he didn't say anything. “Ignore the sweating. It should stop, along with hunger and thirst.”
Our teacher seemed to be able to manipulate everything in his vicinity.
Time.
Minds.
And slowly… contorting us into his own.
In the single second we were trapped inside, I felt days go by in a dizzying whirlwind that was like being permanently high. When I stood up, I felt like I was floating.
When I sat down, hours could go by, even days, and I wouldn't even feel them. I did try and count the days, initially, scribbling them on a scrap piece of paper, but somewhere around the thirteenth or fourteenth day, I lost count. The world around us never changed, in permanent stasis, and maybe that was sending us a little crazy.
After a while of being stuck at our desks, Mr Brighton allowed us to wander the classroom, as long as we stayed away from the door. I lay on the floor for days, counting ceiling tiles.
Sometimes, Imogen would join me.
I couldn't sleep, but I could pretend to sleep, imagining a world that was back to normal. I didn't feel hungry, but my brain did like to remind me of food at the weirdest times. I was aware of weeks passing us by, and then months.
I never grew hungry or tired, and my bodily functions were none existent.
I couldn't remember what pain felt like, or the urge to go to the bathroom. Even the concept of eating and drinking became foreign to me. Putting something in your mouth and chewing to sustain yourself?
That sounded odd.
The only thing that was changing was our slowly unravelling metal state.
I don't know how it started. Weekends and Tuesdays blended together. On one particular SaturTuesday, I was hanging upside down from my desk, watching Kaz and Imogen doodle on the whiteboard.
Kaz had a plan to escape, but after a while, his ‘plan’ to distract the teacher, had gone nowhere. After passing notes between us, the twelve of us had decided that we needed a weapon.
That was maybe a month ago. I wasn't sure what mind games our teacher was playing, but Kaz Samuels, who we were counting on to be our brains, was slowly falling under his spell. Their game had been going on for three days. The two of them were having a competition to see who could draw the craziest thing.
Mr Brighton was at his desk as usual, marking papers.
Imogen was drawing a weird looking ‘skateboard’ when the doors to the storage closet flew open.
Roman Hemlock appeared, and to my surprise, wasn't a hollow eyed shell.
He held up his hand in a wave, his lips forming a small smile.
“Yo.”
Roman’s reappearance was enough to snap us out of it. Kaz and Imogen stopped arguing, the rest of the class going silent. I sat up, blinking rapidly.
I was sure our collective consensus was that Roman Hemlock was dead.
Mr Brighton lifted his head and gave the boy a civil nod. “Mr Hemlock will be rejoining us,” he said, his gaze going back to marking papers. “Please make him feel comfortable. I'm sure he's very excited to be able to talk to you again.”
Instead of going to his desk, the boy immediately joined the others, snatching the marker off of a baffled looking Kaz, and drawing an overly artistic sketch of a penis. I wasn't sure what confused me more. The fact that Roman Hemlock had some serious artistic skills, or that he seemed suspiciously fine for someone who had been locked in the storage closet for two weeks with no social interaction.
With my last few lingering brain cells still clinging on, I studied the boy.
There were no signs of bruises or scratches.
His eyes seemed normal, not diluted or half lidded.
Unable to stop myself, I jumped off of my desk and joined the others, where Kaz was already interrogating the guy.
“WHAT–”
Imogen nudged him, and he lowered his voice, leaning against the wall. “What did he do to you?”
Roman shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Relax, dude. He didn't do anything to me.”
“Then what was that yell?” Imogen hissed.
The boy cocked his head. “Yell?”
“You yelled out,” Kaz folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. He was already suspecting one of us had been compromised– or worse, brainwashed into compliance. Kaz stepped closer, backing Roman into the desk. “You cried out when you first went in there,” he murmured, “So, what was that?”
Something in Roman’s eyes darkened. “Oh,” He said, his lip curling. “That.”
Kaz’s expression softened. He rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Yeah,” He whispered. “What did he do to you?”
Imogen shoved Kaz out of the way, shooting the boy a glare.
“You don't have to tell us, you know.” She said in a small voice. “If it's too traumatising, or he did something you don't want to talk about–”
Roman cut her off with a laugh, and suddenly, all eyes were on him.
The remaining nine of us were eagerly awaiting an explanation.
“Are you fucking serious?”
When Kaz didn't respond, Roman gathered us in a kind of hustle, the four of us grouped together. I felt like I was on the football field. Still, though, if the guy’s goal was to look as suspicious as possible, he was doing a great job.
Roman studied each of us, one eyebrow cocked. When Mr Brighton glanced up from his work, Roman shot him a grin, lowering his voice to a hiss.
“You seriously think our fifty year old physics teacher has been abusing me in the storage closet?
“Then why did you cry out?” Kaz demanded. “Did he hit you?”
Roman stuck out his bottom lip. “I'm pretty sure he didn't hit me.”
“So, you cried out for no reason.”
“Why are you covering for him?” Imogen poked his forehead. “Are you lobotomised?”
Roman wafted her hand away. “Stop prodding me, and no, I'm 100% good.” He backed away from us, like we were observers, and he was the zoo attraction.
“I won't be, if you keep treating me like I'm senile.”
“Okay, fine,” Kaz sighed. “Just answer one.”
“Shoot.”
“When you first went in there, you made an unmistakable sound of distress–”
“Not this again,” Roman groaned. “Of course I yelled! I was shoved into a pitch black storage closet on my own! What, did you expect me to stay silent?”
Kaz didn't look convinced, Imogen nervously sucking her teeth.
The boy leaned back, resting his head against the wall. His eyes flickered shut.
“Stop looking at me like that, there's nothing to tell you,” he murmured, “Brighton didn't do shit to me. I was just freaked out.” Prying one eye open, he fixed us with a glare. “I am so sorry for reacting like a human. Next time, I'll make sure to attack him and pin him to the ground.”
It's not like we believed him. I don't think Roman believed himself.
Something significant had changed in him. He was no longer argumentative, like half of his personality had been torn away. Roman set a precedent. Because once he was following instructions and walking around with a dazed smile, others began to follow. I can't remember how much time had passed since I thought about escaping.
Days and weeks and months had collapsed into fleeting seconds I only noticed when I wasn't playing games.
I wasn't aware of my own lack of sanity until I found myself, on a random SaturWednesday. I was laughing, gathered with the others on the floor, around a Monopoly board. The game had been going on for almost a week.
Reality hit me when I was laughing so hard I tipped back.
I can't remember why I was laughing. I think Imogen told a bad joke.
“Hand it over.” Roman, who was the King of Monopoly, held out his hand, demanding my last 250 bucks. I remember noticing his smile, my foggy brain trying to find hints that he was in some kind of trance, or being controlled by Brighton. But no. His smile was real.
Genuine.
To my shock and confusion, so was mine.
I wasn't in a trance or any type of mind manipulation. I was completely conscious.
Was this… Stockholm syndrome? I thought dizzily.
Was I enjoying this?
My thoughts were like cotton candy, disconnected and wrong, and they barely felt like my own. My gaze found Imogen and Kaz, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder, enveloped in the game.
They looked exactly the same, their hair, clothes, everything about them staying stagnant. It was them themselves who had drastically changed. I had never seen them look so carefree. Imogen was a hotheaded cheerleader, and Kaz was the smart kid who gave himself nosebleeds from overworking himself. But now, they were laughing, nudging each other, caught up in an inside joke. Blinking slowly, my gaze strayed on them.
Sure, it could be manipulation. It could be brainwashing. But it could also be real.
Kaz caught my eye, raising a brow.
“You good, Christa?”
Again, my smile felt real. Like I was having fun.
“Good. It's your turn.”
I picked up the dice, throwing them across the board.
Two sixes.
“I can already see her landing on one of my hotels.” Roman murmured. He sat up, resting his chin on his knees. “As the clear winner, I have a proposition.”
Ignoring him, I moved my piece– immediately landing on Park Place.
“I'll give you 500,” Roman announced, “If you give up New York avenue.”
“That's all I've got!”
Imogen nudged me. “Don't do it. If you give him New York Avenue, he only needs one more.”
“One thousand.” Roman waved the notes in my face.
“My final offer.”
When I reached for the cash, he held it back.
“New York Avenue, he said, with a grin.
“And your pride.”
Reluctantly, I handed my only property over.
Kaz threw the dice and moved his piece, and I half remembered we had an escape plan. “Community chest.” Kaz picked up a card. “Go straight to jail.”*
Roman spluttered. “That's karma,” he said, “For stealing from the bank.”
“You were stealing too!”
We had a plan.
We had…. a plan.
After discussing it in detail, Imogen and I were going to try and get onto Brighton’s laptop. It wasn't a perfect way to escape, but it was coherent.
So, what happened?
We were going to get out, so what… what was this?
Kaz’s earlier words hit me from months ago.
“Mr Brighton *is the thing keeping us here,”* he explained. “If we kill him, I'm like, 98% sure we’ll go back to normal.”
“Okay, and what if he dies and we’re *stuck?”* Imogen whisper-shrieked.
“I said 98% for a reason. Yes, there's a small chance his power will die with him. But there's a bigger chance that its effects will die when he does.”
Ren nodded slowly. “Right, and where exactly did you learn this information?”
“You'll feel a lot better if I don't answer that.”
“Okay.” Ren gritted his teeth. “So, we just need to find a weapon, right?”
“And don't tell Hemlock,” Kaz rolled his eyes. “I don't care what he says, that boy definitely had his mind fucked with. Hemlock is a liability. If we tell Roman, he tells Brighton, and we’re screwed.” Kaz nodded to me, then the others. “Keep your mouths shut.”
Presently, I wasn't sure the boy wanted to escape.
Slowly, I rolled my eyes over to Mr Brighton, who had joined us to play.
He was happily marking papers, taking part when he could.
It felt…right.
Not like we had been forced or manipulated, but more like he belonged. Part of me wanted to question why I felt like this, but I found that I didn't care. I didn't care that we were essentially dead, in a never ending stasis and stuck inside fifty two minutes past two. I stopped thinking about the outside world a long time ago.
I couldn't even remember my Mom’s face.
I made my decision, dazedly watching Imogen throw a chance card at Roman.
He flung one back, threatening to tip the board.
I wanted to stay.
In the corner of my eye, however, someone was still awake.
Ren, who had been sitting next to me, kept moving, further and further away. I didn't notice until he was inching towards our teacher, a box cutter clenched between his fist. There must have been a point when we found a box cutter, when we made it our weapon of choice.
But somewhere along the way, I think we just… lost the longing to want to escape.
I didn't see the exact moment the boy stabbed the blade into the man's neck, plunging it through his flesh, but I did feel a sudden jolt, like time itself was starting to falter and tremble.
Mr Brighton dropped to the ground, and I found my gaze flashing to the frozen clock.
Which was moving, suddenly.
Slowly creeping towards 2:53pm.
Something sticky ran underneath me, warm and wet.
Blood.
Blood that was running.
Roman’s half lidded eyes found mine, and he blinked, dropping the dice.
Like he'd been asleep for a long time.
2:53pm.
We were free.
The cool spring breeze grazing my cheeks was back. I could feel my own heartbeat, sticky sweat on my forehead.
And outside, Jessie Carson let out a gut-churning scream.
For a disorienting moment, I don't think any of us believed we were free.
Roman twisted around, his gaze on the doorway.
The piece of paper the teacher had stuck to the glass slipped away.
But Roman’s gaze was glued to the door, his cheeks paling.
His lips parted into a silent cry.
Following his eyes, I glimpsed a shadow.
A shadow that was frozen at 2:52pm.
2:53pm.
“Fuck.” Roman whispered, stumbling to his feet.
He turned to the rest of us, his eyes wild.
“Get DOWN!”
I dropped onto my knees, crawling under a desk, the classroom exploding around me.
2:54.
Blood splattered the walls, and I was crawling in it, stained in my friends.
2:55.
I grabbed Mr Brighton's hand, squeezing for dear life.
Roman joined me, his trembling fingers feeling for a pulse.
A gunshot rang in my ears, rattling my skull.
When Roman went limp next to me, I wrapped my arms around my teacher.
“Mr Brighton, say Stop.”
He was so cold…
“Mr Brighton! Take us back!”
Footsteps coming towards me.
2:56.

The Dawoodi Bohra community is actually a cult - An evidence-based argument
ex-Dawoodi Bohra member here. Let me preface this with my motivation to write this post.
I have been indoctrinated into this cult since I was born. My family has been part of this cult/community for generations upon generations (at least 4 generations that I know of). I have always had my doubts about the Dawoodi Bohras but since before University I was always living with my parents and thus within the community, there was always a feedback loop that quashed my doubts before they took substance.
After moving out to attend University (6 years ago), my doubts finally had a way to form without a feedback loop quashing it and thus began my research. This post is meant to be a way for me to consolidate my research and help me make sense of it. Feel free to post your own thoughts and comments in the comments/replies. (I actually want to write an article on this topic in a major newspaper so it can have more reach but I don't want to expose my identity yet).
This argument is based off the book "Take Back Your Life: Recovering from Cults and Abusive Relationships (Bay Tree Publishing, 2006)" and research conducted by Dr. Janja Lalich (http://cultresearch.org/about/).
This post is not meant to shame the Dawoodi Bohra community, but point out it's flaws in the hopes that people will read it and make an informed decision.
Let's start with defining the characteristics of a cult and measuring the Dawoodi Bohra community against it. Please note that these list of characteristics are meant to be an analytical tool rather than a scale of how "culty" a community is.
1. The group displays an excessively zealous and unquestioning commitment to its leader, and (whether he is alive or dead) regards his belief system, ideology, and practices as the Truth, as law.
The Dawoodi Bohra community follows Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mufaddal_Saifuddin) who refers to himself as a spiritual "father" of all dawoodi bohras and claims that he is omnipresent (can hear and see everything that a dawoodi bohra does), omniscient, and will take dawoodi bohras to heaven when they die. Oh and did I mention that the dawoodi bohras think that they are the only sect in Islam that will go to heaven?
OH OH also, you will only go to heaven if you follow Mufaddal. Neat right?. Mufaddal Saifuddin makes this claim by citing a hadith of Prophet Mohammad: "The Ummah will be separated into 73 sects, of which 72 will go to hell, and 1 will go to heaven" (https://purifiedhousehold.com/the-ummah-will-be-separated-in-73-sects/).
The Bohra community is discouraged from questioning the methods or means of Mufaddal through the consequence of ex-communication and social boycotting which is how Bohras are controlled. Many Bohras (especially in South-Asia) are overly zealous in their commitment. Bohras are also encouraged to bow down (prostrate themselves) in front of Mufaddal Saifuddin because apparently the angels do it too and also press their hands together, palms touching and fingers pointing upwards, (sort of like a Namaste) in front of him when they see him. Moreover, Dawoodi Bohras are encouraged to ask permission from Mufaddal Saifuddin (or current Maula/Glorified Priest) for everything from naming their child, going to University, starting a business, etc.
Anyone who doesn't follow Mufaddal is boy-cotted and ex-communicated and his family suffers the same consequence.
VERDICT: The above criteria has been strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
2. Questioning, doubt, and dissent are discouraged or even punished.
Please read evidence of above criteria. Questioning the methods of Mufaddal Saifuddin leads to ex-communication and social boycott. Families are controlled by the fear of losing sense of self if they leave the community and in some cases business as well.
Btw has anyone asked Mufaddal why female genital mutilation is a thing? HAH!
VERDICT: The above criteria has been strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
3. Mind-altering practices (such as meditation, chanting, speaking in tongues, denunciation sessions, or debilitating work routines) are used in excess and serve to suppress doubts about the group and its leader(s).
Dawoodi Bohras are encouraged to read duas/prayers for the longevity of Mufaddal Saifuddin and these duas have been incorporated to be read at the end of the mandatory five prayers.
EDIT: One thing I forgot to mention is how followers are made to cry on Imam Hussain's death and how he saved Islam and that if we don't cry then we are not good bohras. Guilt is used to keep followers under control. Imam Hussein's death story is repeated in every sermon or gathering and has been used to suppress doubts about Mufaddal Saifuddin.
These are obviously not mind-altering. I don't know of any practises that are mind-altering but maybe someone can fill the gaps in the comments.
VERDICT: The above criteria is weakly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community. (IF there is evidence on this, please let me know in the comments below).
​
4. The leadership dictates, sometimes in great detail, how members should think, act, and feel (e.g., members must get permission to date, change jobs, or marry—or leaders prescribe what to wear, where to live, whether to have children, how to discipline children, and so forth).
Dawoodi Bohras are encouraged to ask permission from Mufaddal Saifuddin (or current Maula/Glorified Priest) for everything from naming their child, going to University, starting a business, etc. Mufaddan Saifuddin, in his sermons, tells followers in great detail on how they should behave in their homes, who they should interact, what kind of wife they should have, the role of husband and wife, etc. Anyways, I made my point.
VERDICT: The above criteria has been strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
5. The group is elitist, claiming a special, exalted status for itself, its leader(s), and its members (e.g., the leader is considered the Messiah, a special being, an avatar—or the group and/or the leader is on a special mission to save humanity).
Buddy, don't even get me started on this. Wait actually, do.
From above: "OH OH also, you will only go to heaven if you follow Mufaddal. Neat right?. Mufaddal Saifuddin makes this claim by citing a hadith of Prophet Mohammad: "The Ummah will be separated into 73 sects, of which 72 will go to hell, and 1 will go to heaven" (https://purifiedhousehold.com/the-ummah-will-be-separated-in-73-sects/)."
Mufaddal Saifuddin says that he is an angel on Earth. Basically, he claims that he is an angel in human form. He and his father (previously Maula/Glorified Priest) hase said this himself in multiple times. Mufaddal claims that the Bohra community is the only sect in Islam who will enter heaven. WTF??
Mufaddal claims he is/the Maulas are the Messiah (He is the 53rd Messiah lmao). Moreover, he also says that he has a direct connection with the children of Imam Tayyeb (current Imam in hiding, Imams are the lineage of Prophet Mohammad) who apparently communicate with him telepathically. LOL WHAT.
Dawoodi Bohra community is also Elitest. There are ranks starting from Maula/Glorified Priest/Leader of Bohras, Shehzada, Amil, Sheikh and Mulla. Shehzada is a rank that you can only achieve if you marry into the Maula's family. (OH ALSO WOMEN CANNOT ACHEIVE THESE RANKS, ONLY MEN ARE ALLOWED TO HOLD THEM LOL). To become a Sheikh or Mulla, you have to pay huge sums of money to attain the rank ($20,000 - $100,000 at a minimum).
VERDICT: The above criteria has been strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
6. The group has a polarized, us-versus-them mentality, which may cause conflict with the wider society.
Dawoodi Bohras are HIGHLY encouraged and forced to marry only another Dawoodi Bohra and are encouraged to keep limited friends outside the community. Dawoodi Bohras are known to be pacifists and not cause conflicts with the outside community so I will give them that.
VERDICT: The above criteria is weakly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
7. The leader is not accountable to any authorities (unlike, for example, teachers, military commanders, or ministers, priests, monks, and rabbis of mainstream religious denominations).
Mufaddal Saifuddin does not pay any taxes on property, income or wealth. He has been in contact with many major world leaders and he and his family basically answer to themselves.
VERDICT: The above criteria has been strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
8. The group teaches or implies that its supposedly exalted ends justify whatever means it deems necessary. This may result in members participating in behaviors or activities they would have considered reprehensible or unethical before joining the group (e.g., lying to family or friends, or collecting money for bogus charities).
AHEM. FGM. FEMALE GENITAL MUTILATION. AHEM.
Moreover, there are many shady/unethical things that happen within this community that are not brought to light. If you know of any, please tell me in the comments.
VERDICT: The above criteria has been medium met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
9. The leadership induces feelings of shame and/or guilt in order to influence and control members. Often this is done through peer pressure and subtle forms of persuasion.
I am actually laughing to myself right now.
Two words: Ex-communication and social boycotting. Dawoodi Bohras are controlled through the fear of being left out of the social group. The best and most effective way of controlling humans or any social animal and get them to comply.
Read above criteria for more information.
VERDICT: The above criteria has been strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
10. Subservience to the leader or group requires members to cut ties with family and friends, and radically alter the personal goals and activities they had before joining the group.
If you marry a Bohra, you have to become a Bohra yourself. Mufaddal (to the best of my knowledge) encourages children or parents to cut ties with their loved ones if they don't follow him or stray from the path of following him.
You are first a Bohra, then a Muslim.
VERDICT: The above criteria has been strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
11. The group is preoccupied with bringing in new members.
So, this is one thing I haven't seen the Bohras do. Because the belief is that being a Bohra is a privilege which you can only be born into.
No thanks, I would rather go to hell.
VERDICT: The above criteria has not been met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
12. The group is preoccupied with making money.
Oh yea, this made me laugh too. Over the year, Dawoodi Bohras have to give the following fees:
a. Wajebaat: Mandatory Yearly fee that every Bohra has to pay which goes directly to Mufaddal's bank account. You are not allowed to ask what he does with the money or guess what? Straight to Ex-communication. Think of this as a yearly subscription fee to the bohra community you can't cancel.
b. Silat-Ul-Imam: So apparently, this goes to the Imam. How it reaches him, idk but I know that it goes directly to Mufaddal's bank account too. Bohras are taught that if they don't give Silat-ul-Imam at the end of Ramadan then their fast and prayers for the whole year will not be accepted by Allah. WTF.
c. Fees to Attain Rank of Sheikh or Mulla: Exalted ranks among Bohras, Shiekhs and Mullas are allowed to lead prayers and are said to be spiritually above regular bohras. How do they achieve this rank? Oh you gotta pay. No no, you don't achieve this rank through prayers or being spiritual. You gotta pay. You don't have the money to pay? Oh poor Bohra, you will remain a regular peasant Bohra all your life.
There are many other fees/fund collections that I can't remember right now or might not know of but those are the main 3.
VERDICT: The above criteria is strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
13. Members are expected to devote inordinate amounts of time to the group and group-related activities.
There are a total of more than 150 events in the whole Muslim year that a Bohra should attend. Literally it's one event every 2 days on average. I ain't got time for that and most Bohras don't either.
Most auspicious of these events are in the month of Ramadan and the first 10 days of Muharram leading up to Imam Hussein's death. The sadness of Imam Husseins death and his story is used to control members too and it's said that he sacrificed his life to save Islam and apparently in his last moments prayed that God forgive the sins of all Bohras (Remind you of a certain Christian diety? Hint hint Jesus on his cross).
VERDICT: The above criteria is strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
14. Members are encouraged or required to live and/or socialize only with other group members.
Hahahahaha *insert Insane Joker laugh*. If you have been reading this so far in order, you know this criteria is already met. But for those who have been skimming: 1. Allowed to marry only other Dawoodi Bohras. 2. Encouraged not to make friends outside of Bohras.
VERDICT: The above criteria is strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
​
15. The most loyal members (the “true believers”) feel there can be no life outside the context of the group. They believe there is no other way to be, and often fear reprisals to themselves or others if they leave—or even consider leaving—the group.
This last characteristic of a cult basically ties up what I have been saying above. People are afraid of leaving Bohraism because they are afraid of being socially boycotted. Most Bohras feel that they have little to no life outside of the context of the group and are encouraged to have friend circles only within the group.
VERDICT: The above criteria is strongly met by the Dawoodi Bohra Community.
if you have read so far, thank you for reading. This post is a way for me to organize my thinking and get your thoughts on this.
In concluding this post, the Dawoodi Bohra strongly meets 13 out of the 15 characteristics of a cult. That's a passing grade if I have ever seen one.
FINAL VERDICT: The Dawoodi Bohra community is a cult.
The Dawoodi Bohras have a lot of money. Mufaddal earns at least $1,000,000+ from Waajebaats, Silatul Imams and donations from fanatics.
TL;DR: Dawoodi Bohras are a cult and there is way too much evidence to refute this claim. They meet 13 of the 15 characteristics of a cult as defined by Dr. Janja Lalich. Their leader Mufaddal Saifuddin exploits Bohras belief in Islam and himself to make money that is untaxed and unaccounted for and Bohras who question him are ex-communicated and their families socially boycotted.
I am internally laughing and crying right now. This has been my life for 25 years. I want to get out but I can't because I am also afraid of being kicked out by my family. I am going to slowly convince them to leave it but I feel like even If they leave, they will be depressed because they will have left a social circle. Mufaddal Saifuddin and his family are very clever, they got us.

On the southern coast of Firebrand, in the dead of night and under a pale and comforting full moon the city of Klastead peacefully rests, little care of danger enters the average citizen’s mind. They sleep soundly knowing the violence and savagery of the civil war is far away from the safe and secure streets of their comfortable home. Such were protected by her tall and broad stone walls, her dutiful legion of sharp and tutored watchmen keep keen eye out for anything to disturb such a peaceful night.
The sea casts gentle and soothing waves upon the mighty and sturdy docks. The sound made a loving lullaby for those close enough to hear it. From such waters a further gentle fog begins to float through, its movements slow and gentle as a blanket slithering its way through the quiet streets.
It’s Harbormaster has but one more shipment to check until his lonely and long yet rewarding shift comes to a close. After this one last shipment is checked and unloaded he would return to his family, to his wonderful wife and three children. Until then, only his trusty lantern was around to keep him company, its flickering flame kept him warm through the dark night.
Thoughts came to him after a moment, he looked out at the ruins of the former home of the city’s carrier ravens. A fire had taken it a few days prior, the ravens burned with it. An investigation has been done yet no sign of foul play had been found. And with the war going on no letters had come in some time, his mind shifted as he suddenly heard a ship approach the dock, change in the sounds of the waves a dead giveaway.
Nearest hour to the mid of night he walks to the dock, his green scales shining in the light of his trusted lantern. He heard the ship yet could ill see it, the fog had become too thick to see all that far out to see. A faint creaking he could hear under the dock beneath him, such sound was far from out of the ordinary so it was ignored. His eyes kept true to the sea before him, scanning for the vessel he heard on approach. He held his trusted friend aloft as to aid the sailers find the dock.
The Harbormaster saw the outline of… something out in the water, straining his amber eyes in hopes to get a better look. He grasped a post to lean forward over the planks, that creak louder yet again ignored. When he finally saw something a wind took him causing him to stumble backward, to regain his balance. To his dismay his source of light had fallen from his hand. Rushing to the edge again he saw the metal thing slowly sink to the bottom, he let out a sigh, he would get it in the morning he thought.
Out from the fog a sloop appeared, its hull and sails blacker than pitch. As he looked up and viewed the three mates aboard he prepared a rope to tie the transport to dock. Oddly the ship came to dock at its starboard, one of the men flung himself onto the dock and aided the knot tying.
This man the Harbormaster found to be of a rather sort, never seeing a drake of his type. Scales of blood and ebony, slender and tall with the most piercing red eyes he had ever seen. His cloak was oddly regal for just some sailer, blacks reds and gold adorned it. His doublet and boots the same. As the knot was fully tied the sailor stood and held out his hand to aid the Harbormaster up, he spoke in pleasantries through a kindly yet slightly off putting accent. “Greetings my friend, I humbly thank you for allowing us to dock at your fine city. May I ask your name?”
The Harbormaster took the hand and was surprised by the grip and strength of this sailor, it took him a second to give his response to the question. “Um my my… oh yes it’s Barton… Humfred Barton, and I am the master of this harbor. Now you lot do have a permit but I will require an inspection before allowing you to transport… whatever it is you are into the city.” He built his confidence the longer he spoke. The taller drake smiled kindly, his dagger-like teeth shone in the moonlight.
“Of course, we would gladly allow you to inspect the shipment, though I would prefer it be done as quickly as possible. You see after such a long voyage, my men and I are… hungry.” The other two men on the ship nodded, another already on the dock did the same, this time a woman in similar regality to the captain.
Humfred boldly adjusted his belt, he would get this last inspection done just as the apparent captain had said. As quickly as possible, he had to get home after all. He saw the Captain nod to the woman on the dock, said woman was soaked with water, her fashioned clothes the same. She fumbled with something in her hand, though in the darkness Humfred could simply not tell.
The Captain Led The Harbormaster onto the ship, his first two men following behind. The boat was a tad eery, the dark wood along with the sails painted a grim and somber picture of its captain and crew members. Spikes and bone motifs also were present along the prow, a skeleton as its figurehead.
His eyes at last met the shipment, many smaller crates along with one of a grander size. A cloth along with chains covered the thing. His attention was kept on it, several sounds of ragged breathing came from inside. A stench most foul also was present, smells of carrion, blood and well spoiled flesh invaded and soured his experienced nostrils. “What in Bahamut’s name is in there? That smell… and is that… breathing I hear, the manifest says you are transforming meat but… it clearly has spoiled long ago if that is even what is in there. I will have to deny your shipment and order you to leave immediately or else be fined for possible contraband.”
The boat went silent, Humfred felt strong in that moment. He stood his ground against the far taller drake of unknown and intimidating nature. Yet said drake took two steps closer to him, invading his boundaries and looming above him. Doing so caused his men to laugh, a wiry yet strong hand gripped Humfred’s shoulder. “My friend… my name is Dremroc, second living child of the Bloodstone count, admiral of his fleets and herald of his hosts. Such as I am I would implore you to reconsider. As an invitation to your fair city would be quite appreciated, though not required.”
Dremroc’s smile became a smirk as he pulled Humfred to the bow and held him tightly, a threat clear though unstated. “Gentlemen, show our host what he has allowed to dock at his city.” The two men complied, the woman continued to watch, a glee that Humfred unfortunately could very much see.
The two men pulled the cloth from the larger frame, revealing it to be a cage. Such cage housed two creatures, deathly slim with greened sickly flesh rotting and slipping from their scarred bones. Such things looked to have been once dragonborn as they all yet had somehow become changed, feral. The bloodshot eyes caught hints of light, causing them both to shriek wildly. A fury matched only to their married madness.
All the confidence of the Harbormaster immediately faded from him as he saw the monsters before him, he knew not what they were but nonetheless feared them and his new captors. Dremroc laughed and smelled the air, taking in his prisoner’s fear and enjoying it deeply.
The woman strode onto the ship, with arrogance and pride carved onto her regal and villainous face. The water on her well mannered outfit seemed to dry magically in moments. The thing in her hands only as she approached did the Harbormaster now realize was his trusty lantern, she held it upside down in her talons. Nails along the edges. “Good show little brother, good show indeed. Though perhaps pronouncing your titles to one so… simple was a tad over the top, I find acts can be much more effective at times.”
As she finished her words she will ease crushed the lantern in her claws and allowed the mangled remains to fall to the deck. Sounds of more ships making dock can be heard, with a snap of Dremroc’s fingers his crew perform a sort of spell, dark magic flies from their fingers and to the crates. Hands of bone smash through the wood, men of bone released from their prisons march orderly onto the dock. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the ships dock and release their own undead minions. With laughter he witnesses the woman open the cage, the creatures spring from it and surge forth. They shove past the skeletons and into the city, then regaining their composure and march soon after.
Dremroc Holds the Harbormaster to look as the city as the army marches under the cover of night and fog. He feels a sharp pain in his neck and after some time, falls limp and falls to the ground. “So it begins Vlaedukaah, father will be pleased.”
The woman smirks as the looks out onto the army’s march, the ghouls engage and quickly dispatch the first watchmen who notice them. “That he will, our beachhead has been established. Communications with the rest of the kingdom have already been cut, no one knows we are here. And with the war as distraction, along with how far Klastead is from anywhere else. As long as it keeps paying its tithe, we can hold it as long as we need.”
(The Bleeding Coasts Part I)

Jerry
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, let's get right down to business. We made our first jump towards our next destination this morning and are maneuvering to our next jump point as we speak. Khan Karchara has fully briefed me on our plan, and now it's time for me to brief you."
Jerry triggers the holo projector with a brush of will from his neural implant, bringing up a display of a surprisingly earth-like planet with large oceans and very aggressive mountain ranges.
"This is Coburnia's Rest, named for a saint in one of the Cannidor religions who's said to have settled the world shortly after the Cannidor developed faster than light travel. It is the seat of the Hammerhands clan, based out of their fortress city, The Crucible. As you might guess from the names, the Hammerhands are less a clan or khannate in the martial sense and more the old school Cannidor trade guilds. They're off again, on again frenemies with Cannid Solutions and other Cannidor corporations, but their interests don't overlap that much since Cannid Solutions in particular is mostly export focused, or sell to the common citizen, as opposed to the trade guilds which tend to have tight connections to various warrior clans."
Diana raises two fingers. "So to clarify, you have to know the right people to buy a plasma pistol in Cannidor space?"
"Not quite, but if you want the top shelf gear you have to be part of a clan, or know the right people. Don't get me wrong, there's lots of non-clan folks that can and do buy from the guilds, it's just a more involved process than going to your nearest vending machine for a five credit laser pistol."
Diana nods and returns her attention to the display as Jerry continues his briefing.
"So I suspect, and Khan Karchara suspects, that to win the Hammerhands over we're going to have to show off our appreciation for craftsmanship and weaponry, and general support for the trades. I think our connection to the Apuk Imperial house will actually help us here. As we know, the Empress is a great patron of the traditional arts on Serbow, and Aqi and I left with some handcrafted statues, one of which is going to be a gift to the Khan. I hate to part with it, but I can always ask my mother in law to put the sculptor in touch with us for a custom piece."
There's a few chuckles at the slight absurdity of contacting the empress of a large star empire and asking about a particular artisan in her space... but at the same time most of Jerry's command team knew that the Empress would absolutely pick up the phone for that kind of call.
"Wichen and some of her top weaponsmiths and armortechs are going to be part of the contact team for this stage of the mission, which as Khan Karchara described is announcing ourselves and making friends Cannidor style. Winning over Khan Hammerhand will be a major political win in that regard, as most of the trades clans will come with their big boss, and they will influence their warrior clans, or at least spread the word."
Sharon signals for attention this time.
"Alright so that's first up to bat, who else are we going to see?"
Jerry nods. "Cannid Solutions for one. They're already friendly with the Undaunted and we've got existing trade deals with them, but friendly and being neighbors are different animals, so we'll stop by and say hi. More pressing are visiting with the senior leadership of the Crimsonhewers and Blue Blades 'free' clans. We have friendly relations with both groups just on this ship, and with other major parts of the Undaunted for the Crimsonhewers. More challenging will be Clan Kopekin, one of the larger Khannates, and the 'conservative' faction of the Cannidor people, and Clan Charocan which is the powerhouse of the Cannidor military with five hundred thousand power armored warriors across their sub clans. They control around four dozen star systems. They have notoriously high standards and we're expecting not quite resistance... but spirited challenges to our efforts to negotiate."
Diana smirks. "We'll just have to show them how we do business. No surprise the diplomats are giving us the hard jobs though."
A chuckle echoes throughout the room, before Jerry continues;
"That's exactly what's happening. A lot of the clans are just fine for being approached by the diplomatic corps, and Khan Karchara and a team from the Dauntless are doing the rounds there. We've been given the hard cases. We also need to contact the council of patriarchs if possible. They're a somewhat secretive part of Cannidor culture in terms of who and how they interact, so the general assumption is we're on a 'Don't call us, we'll call you' basis with them. Khan Karchara suspects they will call though, one way or another. In the meantime, we need to stress to all departments that every man and woman on this ship is an ambassador while we're on this trip. Now that doesn't mean they can't rough house or cause trouble. If anything encourage it, these are Cannidor after all... though if they do rough house a bit too hard, the men better be prepared to be up a wife or two at the end of shore leave on a given world."
Al Gray nods thoughtfully from where he's seated next to Sharon. "Makes sense to me Admiral, this isn't just diplomacy after all, we want the Cannidor to know us and like us, and you can't really do that with strict manners in the way, and that kind of behavior would be rather alien to the Cannidor, they're a passionate species to say the least, and have a tendency towards cutting through the bullshit to get to the meat and bone of a matter."
Sir David smirks, stroking his mustache as he considers the challenge at hand. "Better hope the lads don't get too enthusiastic about making friends with the locals, we have plenty of space left, but I'm not sure anywhere has room for five hundred Cannidor."
"Probably not." Jerry agrees. "That said, we want everyone on the lookout for opportunities. It never hurts to make friends just about anywhere after all, and friendships between men and women are more common among Cannidor, and men are more common in public. Cannidor bulls are generally larger than their female counterparts and have a degree of autonomy socially that men in many galactic cultures do not. The other major faction we want to track down is the so-called Sisterhood of the Void. They're the Cannidor's unofficial species-wide navy."
Sharon sits up a bit. "Don't the Cannidor generally disdain naval combat?"
"Yep, so as you can imagine the girls in the Sisterhood have a reputation for having a bit of a chip on their shoulder. Should be pretty easy to make friends there. Diana, I want Nadiri and some other intelligence agents to put out feelers to see if we can get in touch while we're in orbit around Coburnia's Rest. I-"
A sharp whistle cuts Jerry off as a message comes in.
"Admiral, a Cannidor civilian lighter has approached our sensor pickets and is requesting clearance to dock. They've apparently got refugees aboard. The leader wants to speak with you personally, and says it’s sensitive. Too sensitive for a comm line."
Jerry arches an eyebrow. "Well. Seems we've found one of those opportunities to make a friend I was just talking about. Control, clear them into an isolated docking bay, and have some security on hand nearby... discreetly."
"Aye aye sir. Clearing them in and making the arrangements."
The trip down to the hangar bay's a brief one, and as requested a security detail is waiting nearby with a few of the Crimsonhewers joining them 'just in case'. Jaruna was quietly briefing them and there’s a chorus of “Yes ma’ams.” before she walks over and joins Jerry.
"Glad you got here in time, gorgeous."
Jaruna nods.
"Ain't about to let you walk into a potential trap alone."
"Glad I wasn't the only one wondering. I would have come down here with Sharon if I knew it was entirely safe, but the scenario is an odd one. Cannidor refugees? And why us?"
"Could be a billion and one reasons. Maybe our reputation's spread a little bit already? Refugees happen to all people, if we've got a good rep for kicking ass and being kind in equal measure there's lots of people who probably wouldn't mind signing up. Most of them wouldn't be quite this bold however. Only one way to find out for sure though."
Jaruna nods her head at the door, where a shift to a blue light signals the bay doors have closed and are pressure tight. They slide open to reveal a worn down lighter of... questionable safety to say the least. This was a spacecraft suitable for only the truly desperate.
"What a hunk of junk. Even pirates wouldn't drag something like this around." Jerry says.
"Yeah no kidding, surprised this thing made it from wherever they came from in one piece. Certainly makes me believe the refugee story, this thing stands out too much for a hit squad or something and..."
Jaruna stops talking as the lighter's boarding ramp drops in jagged movements that suggest the mechanism was on its last legs. First out is a Cannidor bull, a large, proud looking man with what Jerry can see from here is a deep sadness in his eyes.
"Hey I recognize him. He's from the pirate base. One of the slaves." Jaruna strokes her chin for a second. "Yeah, he was the one the head slaver was holding hostage before Neysihen cut her head off... wonder what he's doing here? His family would be part of Khan Irgalas' domain I think."
"Guess we'll just have to talk to him. I bet he's itching to tell us."
Jerry and Jaruna meet the Cannidor man and what was likely his family about midway from the entrance to the hangar bay. Standing before them were some thirty five adult females, and another thirty odd children of varying ages.
The older children were all Cannidor, and stood nervously, clearly keeping close together for a sense of comfort and safety. There was a dullness to the color of their eyes that suggested incredible hardship at the hands of the pirates to Jerry. He'd seen eyes like that before. All too often in some of the harsher places to live back on Earth.
Interesting too was the small knot of non-Canndior children. A Snict, a Rabbis or two, a Phosa kit that was, for all the pain around her, an unstoppably cheery creature, her eyes taking in the details of her new environment eagerly as she made soft cooing noises from the hover cradle she was in.
For all the nervousness of the older girls, for all the pain in their eyes, they still were actively looking after and protecting what were probably their younger siblings... though the lack of mothers evident for them suggested a dark and painful origin for these innocent little darlings. Be they the children of slaves who didn't survive... or worse.
Before Jerry can say anything, the bull bows low... below Jerry's head level, which is just about getting on his hands and knees for someone who's probably just shy of eleven feet tall. Jerry exchanges a look with Jaruna. That type of submissive posture was extremely rare among the Cannidor... and suggested again just how much this man and his family had been through. By human standards he was literally coming begging on his hands and knees.
"Khan Bridger, I am Bonrak Makua of clan Bonrak. Your men and women when they rescued me and my family were most kind, and proved themselves to be noble and compassionate as well as skilled warriors. Some of the human men among your Marines nicknamed me Boone, and it would please me to continue to go by that name when I am among humans."
A very formal introduction. This was clearly going somewhere interesting but damned if Jerry could figure out exactly where.
"Raise your head and be welcome among us, Boone of Bonrak, as we welcomed you when we broke your chains."
Jerry starts. He had to take this nice and slow. Nice and formal. As formal as Boone had started this little chat.
"While I am pleased my warriors rescued you and your kin, and made a good impression upon you, what brings you to us? Did your Khan have some sort of message to deliver?"
Boone shakes his head slowly. "We are here on our own. Irgalas invited that evil into her domain and abandoned us to years of captivity until the pirates finally bit the hand that fed them, and even then she did not send her own warriors to our aid, the warriors our taxes allegedly paid to arm and armor in our defense. She instead called for foreigners. I... cannot forget my time in captivity, nor do I wish to. I was humiliated, broken, but I was able to resist in my way, and I learned... a great many things. Thankfully I was also able to rescue a few of my... daughters... at the end."
The way Boone said that particular word cottoned Jerry onto its meaning immediately, and he suppresses a wince as his stomach turns slightly, even as he increases his respect for Boone's character. It takes a lot for a man to not abandon children he fathered as a result of what had to be fairly violent and regular rape. It took even more to love them, as a glance their way to check on the well-being of the gaggle of infants and toddlers suggested Boone did. The way he'd said the word 'broken' too, told a story all on its own. This was a man who'd been through the ringer... but for all that, for all he said he'd been broken, Jerry saw a man who might have submitted, but break? Never.
A broken man wouldn't have gone to find his daughters born of the cruelty of his captors on being freed.
"We cannot remain on our world, and I have determined we cannot remain in the domain of Irgalas. I would put my fate and fealty in the hands of the man who led the warriors who affected our rescue. We have four warriors among my wives, and my eldest daughter made the cut a few seasons back... we were taken before she could leave us to report for her apprenticeship. We have a further five of my wives who are skilled soldiers, if not warriors."
Jerry nods slowly, starting to fully piece the situation together. "...I see. How were you taken, with warriors among your family?"
Boone's head drops and his voice cracks ever so slightly, far more emotion than the stoic Cannidor would usually display to a stranger.
"I used to have fifty wives, Khan Bridger. A further ten of them were skilled women at arms or warriors. We... lost them, and the rest of us were subdued with null."
"...I see. I am sorry for their passing, for your loss, and what you have endured. Please know... if your wives and daughter no longer wish to take up arms, as some do not after suffering the unthinkable, they do not need to if they do not want to. I am the leader of the Bridger clan, this is true. I am the admiral in command of this fleet, but I am not a Cannidor Khan, and I measure the value of lives in very different ways than the strength of a sword arm."
"Your wisdom and kindness do you great credit. I admire the will and philosophy of your Undaunted as well, but I wish to pledge my fealty, and the fealty of my family, to you and your clan personally, as if you were indeed a Cannidor Khan. You have given us our lives back, given us our freedom. Those lives are yours by right, you have more than earned the efforts of my family on your behalf."
Jerry nods slowly... that was really going in directions he hadn't expected, but he did have 'families' in his service already, and they could still aid the Undaunted and the ship... plus... his mind skips back to the shrouded world in wild space. They wouldn't be aboard the ship forever, and a healthy Cannidor clan would be a blessing to a new colony that would make Boone and his wives an unmatched boon all on their own.
He'd never have turned them away of course, but taking in refugees and accepting a pledge of fealty from a minor Cannidor clan was another animal entirely.
"I accept your pledge, Boone, and welcome you around our fire... we will wander for a time among the stars, but know this, I have a world in mind to settle on one day, and I would like you, and your family by my side when I do."
"We shall be there my Khan. Through thick and thin. Fire and blood."
Boone hesitates for a second, even as Jerry offers him a handshake.
"Though, you should know, this defection might anger Khan Irgalas."
Jerry smirks as Boone's massive hand dwarfs his own and they 'shake' as much as they can with that size disparity.
"Then the Khan should have been more upset when you were captured and abused for years. Welcome aboard Boone, ladies. You leave worrying about Irgalas to me. She wants to raise a fuss we'll deal with it Khan to Khan, and if she wants to scrap over it, I'll be glad to turn this ship around and face off with her in the squared circle personally on your behalf."
Boone's eyes widen slightly. "That would be..."
"Perfectly reasonable as the leader of the band your family's joining. You're my people now. Besides, spanking one bitch in power armor, or even going at it unaugmented's going to be a lot easier than fighting an Apuk battle princess, even in a regulated bout."
"...That rumor was true?"
"I think you'll find a lot of the stories about the Undaunted are true. Now, let's get you and your family and your goods situated. It might take a few days to see about permanent quarters, and I don't think we can get everyone in a single facility, but a decent sized central home with nearby quarters for everyone else? Easily."
"Whatever you give us will be luxurious compared to what we have endured."
"All the more reason to ensure you have actual comfort and what luxury can be spared on a deep space vessel, but please, no sense standing around in a landing bay when we can see about getting everyone housed and fed instead."
First Last

Hi everyone,
I am currently in a difficult situation and thought that this sub would be able to offer advice on how I address this scenario.
Yesterday, I was playing Animal Crossing on my Nintendo switch whilst drinking Soylent and eating chicken tendies until suddenly, a BIG SCARY SCORPION started chasing my character.
I started screaming and crying and then spilled my Soylent all over the the floor and then my wife's boyfriend slammed the door open asking me what I'm doing. I was so scared of the scorpion I could barely breathe, I tried lifting my finger up to point at the horrifying scene on my television but because of all the Soylent I drink, I couldn't lift it up due to having no testosterone.
After that, he said "no more Nintendo switch for a month, and you're not allowed to play animal crossing again because it's too scary for you to handle".
He then put parental controls on and told me to look at the wall for five hours whilst I think about what I done.
Has anyone else been this situation before?

PERSONAL AWAKENING
​
Reality shifted for the third time, yet Dallion still wasn’t convinced. While he didn’t show it, being locked out of the realms had been more terrifying than he wanted to let out. In a way, he felt like his awakening powers had been sealed, leaving him helplessly normal. No wonder mages and mid-level awakened feared it so much. Back when he was in the single digits, he didn’t find the notion all that terrible. He viewed it as a waste, but not something to lose sleep over. Now that he had almost lost it, he understood the terror that the sealed had gone through… he understood what his mother had been forced to live with for so many years.
“It’ll be fine.” Giaccia approached in her nymph form. “You won’t lose it.”
Dallion nodded, but part of him still wasn’t sure. Even after achieving so much, the emperor had still found a way to lock his powers for a day. If they went against the Moons, what would they be capable of?
“I must complete the emblem.” Dallion summoned the two gems.
They were many times larger in his realm than they were in real life. Both of them were different shades of blue, marking the last two remaining of the set.
“How will you bring him?” The nymph stood a few steps away.
Several tools appeared, along with a vast number of markers surrounding the cyan crystal.
“The same way you were brought back.” Dallion started carving. “The same way that I brought Vihrogon back.”
Normally, it would take about ten minutes for Dallion to finish shaping the Moonstone. This time, he prolonged it to a full hour. As he worked, he couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of loneliness. In the past, at least one of his echos would have been here, making sarcastic comments. At present, all of them were within towns in Dallion’s domain in the real world. They were doing a good job from what he knew, organizing things, assisting the town garrisons, and helping out wherever they could. Still, they were no longer part of him.
​
MOON EMBLEM
6/7 COMPLETE
​
The yellow rectangle emerged. One more remained until the emblem was ready for challenging the Moons. From what both Simon and Pan had explained, the process wasn’t instantaneous. Dallion would have to say the words in order for the challenge to take place. Even so, he felt like he was playing with fire.
“About to go, old man?” Onda asked from his tower.
The distance was impressive, but thanks to the level of his perception trait, Dallion could hear him as if they were standing a few steps apart.
“You never reached forging mastery,” the nymph said.
“Maybe next time.” Dallion started working on the final crystal. “Do you want to return to the real world?” he asked while carving.
“Nah. It’s scary out there.” The nymph let out a forced laugh. “It’s cool here. And now you have a new dragon.”
That was hardly the term to describe Aquilequia. The more time passed, the more Dallion was convinced that she had the character of a cat. Thanks to her power, the dragon had the ability to enter and leave his realm as she wished. Being his familiar, she was careful not to cause any major damage, but at the same time Dallion had no means of stopping her from doing as she pleased. The profound patience the creature had in its previous incarnation seemed to have completely vanished. Thinking about it, that was a good thing. Now she had the time to experience growing up from scratch. Nox and Lux had also gone through the same experience in their own way, though it hadn’t been anywhere as intense.
The carving became slower and slower. Sadly, for Dallion, it was inevitable it would come to an end, and ultimately it did.
​
MOON EMBLEM
7/7 COMPLETE
​
MOON AUDIENCE
You’ve earned the right to seek an audience with the Moons. You’re free to challenge them for passage through the awakening gate. Doing so will turn you into a pretender.
However you use the emblem, you only get to seek an audience once.
​
There it was—the final achievement. Unlike the majority of them, it didn’t provide any points or gifts, but something far better. Out of everyone Dallion knew, two had used it to challenge the Moons, another had no doubt sought an audience—which explained a lot of the archbishop’s unusual abilities. As for Jeremy, Dallion was still uncertain. Simon had suggested that the Tamin Emperor had backed out of the challenge, but that might well be just semantics. After all, the human race hadn’t been banished so far.
Dallion held the emblem between his fingers. He couldn’t deny it was beautiful, resembling the Order’s emblem—one blue gem surrounded by six others.
“Seven Moons,” Dallion said, then summoned a chain of Moon platinum.
“You’ll manage.” Giaccia went up to him. “I’m certain.”
“Me and your sister fighting for the same goal.” Dallion attached the emblem to the chain, then put it round his neck. “Didn’t think that would ever happen.”
“Let’s hope that both of you get to achieve your dream.”
Hopefully, none of the dreams would clash. Summoning his instruments away, Dallion returned to the real world. It was past noon, Euryale was gone, doing her best to keep morale high. It had been decided that the details of the arrangement wouldn’t be openly discussed. As far as everyone was aware, they had entered a period of calm during which discussions were taking place. There was one thing, though, that was impossible to hide.
“Could have been better,” Simon said, sitting on a marble chair in Dallion’s room.
While Dallion’s wife and all of his top commanders were off making sure that everything within his domain was stable, the archbishop did absolutely nothing. It hardly came as a surprise since he’d done the same on his island for thousands of years, but Dallion still found it annoying. Back on Earth, he’d never have picked him for a roommate, that was for certain.
“Things could always be better,” Dallion said.
“I meant the emblem.” The boy pointed. “You’ve done the bare minimum.”
“It works,” Dallion ended the conversation there.
Dal, Gloria said from within his domain. Your mother doesn’t want you to go through with this.
That wasn’t what Dallion wanted to hear right now.
Why did you tell my mother? He asked.
Someone had to. I didn’t go into most of the specifics, but… She’s your mother, Dal.
And she will be after I get through this.
It’s like she said when you left the village. It’ll never be enough for you.
She really had said so. Looking back, Dallion thought he’d be content with living in Nerosal. His goal was to enter an awakened guild—which he had—and possibly rise to the position of guild lieutenant, or maybe even guild captain. Remembering there was a time he viewed Vend and March as undefeatable made him smile.
There’s nowhere to go after this, he said. When I become a Moon, it’ll end.
Is that what you want me to tell her?
No. I’ll tell her myself once it’s over.
Using his domain ruler powers, Dallion transported himself out of the bedroom and into his forge. To his great annoyance, Simon had done the shift with him. The boy was also a domain ruler.
“I hope you didn’t waste any Moonstones for this.” Dallion summoned half a dozen ingots towards him. Each of them was a special metal.
“Why would I? You’re so obvious.” Simon looked about. He had let just enough of his emotions leak out to let Dallion know that he didn’t find the building particularly appealing. “I can tell you how to summon someone directly,” he said.
Dallion ignored him. If it were that easy, the archbishop would have done it already. Instead, Dallion was going to do his thing.
The item he was creating didn’t matter, but even so, Dallion wanted it to be special. Given the circumstances, a metal version of the twi-crown seemed appropriate.
Magic, forging, arts, and scholar skills combined into one, as Dallion simultaneously created two parts of one object. Each of the bands were made of a different metal, yet at the same time they were also one whole: “separate but united,” as Onda would say.
“You can always use a Moonstone,” Simon said, leaning back against the wall. “I’ve a few left so I can share it.”
“No, thanks.” Dallion kept on forging.
“It won’t matter. I won’t need them in a couple of hours. Why waste it? You’ll get to make your first world item and earn another achievement.”
The temptation was present, but the way the offer was made rubbed Dallion the wrong way. Onda had never told him how to create a world item and neither did any scroll in the Grand Citadel’s library, for that matter. Using a Moonstone would easily deal with that, providing all the knowledge that Dallion needed. It was a valid option, and any trait boost would be more than welcome right now.
You piece of crap, Dallion thought, determination filling him to his core. I’ll do it myself!
The blueprint in his mind exploded. Dallion could see the theoretical form of the item grown from an item to a building, then to an entire area. That was his current limit—a large sphere item that was as large as his personal realm. It was far bigger than any sphere item he had been in; possibly Adzorg would call it a semi-world item, or some other mage-made-up term. Sadly, it still wasn’t enough.
“Forging a province is never easy, isn’t that right, Kraisten?” Dallion asked as he entered the blueprint of the domain he was making. In a single moment, he imagined himself in there, not just as a forger, but also as part of it. With enough concentration, he could feel the ground of the realm, feel the wind in it, sense the smells, sounds, and tastes… In that particular moment, Dallion imagined himself living in the domain.
​
WORLD ITEM CREATED - TWI-CROWN
​
Now! Dallion unleashed the magic threads within him, before the rectangle had fully formed. His plan was to find the dryad emperor and pull him out through the item, as he had done with Vihrogon. Yet, something completely different occurred.
​
BANISHED REALM AWAKENING
​
A second rectangle emerged. Similar to the ones relating to the Moon emblem, it was yellow.
Before Dallion could even think of saying anything, the opening of an aether vortex emerged in front of him. Next thing he knew, Dallion was standing on both sides of it.
“What the heck?!” Dallion turned around.
Only the him within the vortex moved. The part back at the forge remained frozen as everything else in the real world.
“Would you look at that?” a deep voice thundered. “We have a celebrity here.”
Dallion looked around. Sky, ground, and light were concepts that didn’t exist, yet at the same time, they were there. As Gleam had told him once, there was everything and nothing at the same time. Dallion could feel the heavy pressure of countless souls in a realm that was simultaneously endless and crowded.
“So, you really did it? You punctured the barrier,” another voice said, just as loud and deep as the last. Dallion couldn’t see its owner, yet his music skills let him acquire a mental image of the entity.
“A colossus?” he asked.
“With the younger races getting a free ride, there’s mostly us left,” the second colossus laughed. “Or have you come to take us out as well?”
Dallion didn’t reply.
“Come on, you can speak your mind,” another voice said. “Not that anyone cares. What’s the worst that can happen? We can only keep you for company.”
Laughter erupted like a thunderstorm mixed with an earthquake.
“I’m here to find someone.” Dallion managed to maintain enough presence of mind. Unlike all other realms, this one seemed to pull his own thoughts in multiple directions, as if wanting to spread them everywhere. “He’s a pretender.”
“There are lots of pretenders,” a new voice boomed. “What makes the one you seek special?”
That was a question Dallion wasn’t prepared for.

Morte:
Sitting in my ramble of a shack, today was my last day. My wife had been found and I was going to be working by her side. Staring down at my bloody hands, my bounty hunting days were over. Climbing into my beat up truck, the engine rumbled to life. Speeding towards the tower I was going to call home, my heart wouldn’t stop beating out of my chest. Pulling up to the building tears welled up in my eyes, a ball of water washing any blood off of me. Hopping out, time froze at the sight of my wife. Her looks were the same, the few differences being her salt and pepper hair and ruby eyes. Shifting around uncomfortably, her rockabilly dress matched her personality. Wanting to run up and kiss her, my mind knew better than to act on my impulses.
“I am Corpsia but you can call me Corpsy if it is easier. You must be my assistant.” She chirped cheerfully, the emotional agony of our past hiding behind her broken smile. “You might die all over again if you stay out here for too long. I don’t bite.” Curling her fingers around mine, both of us paused with the same looks we used to give each other. Ripping her hand back, a quick apology tumbled from her lips. Following her to the basement, a couple bodies waited for us.
“Do you know any of the cuts or am I going to have to teach you?” She teased with a wink while tossing me a white lab coat, her trembling hands tugging on hers. “I feel like I know you. Have we met before?” Too nervous to answer, she hadn’t put two and two together. Not wanting to dig up old wounds, a simple shrug of my shoulders shut down the conversation. Motioning for me to join her side, her broken smile had my heart shattering. Showing me the ropes, her slender hands moved swiftly. Scribbling down what she told me, this moment couldn’t be any nicer. Shoving the bodies back into their marked spaces, her gloves hit the bottom of the trash can. Shimmying off her coat, she hung it up.
“Are you into Chinese food or can I order something else? It is my treat.” She inquired with a shell of what her smile used to be, her hand resting on her hip. Mumbling that anything would do, her boots clicked away. Ordering food, my eyes caught a flawless drawing of our children. Tears had smeared the gray lines, a silent tear sliding down my cheek. Picking up the picture behind it, my breath hitched at the perfect picture of me. Dropping her phone as she came in, tears welled up in her eyes. Shit, what did I do?
“I lost my husband and family before becoming a demon. They slit their throats before dragging me off to be hung. My father-in-law was a piece of shit. I drew those pictures about one hundred years ago to hold against my chest when things simply don’t feel right.” Taken aback by her words, quiet sobs spoke of a decaying composure. Watching her walking away, the scene glitched out. A six foot tall female demon sauntered into view, golden and onyx waves blended together to float around her shoulders. Her inky insect eyes glittered with malice, her striped suit reminded me of a yellow jacket. Spinning a jet black stinger in her palm, the goddess energy coming off of her had me stumbling back. Honey colored water flooded around my boots, her voice sounded like thousands of them at once.
“It seems I hopped into the wrong dream. Oh well. I suppose the one who carries decay will have to suffice for the moment.” She mused darkly, panic rounding out my eyes at the water not allowing me to move. Sauntering up to me, her cruel grin widened the moment she slid her stinger through my stomach. Blood poured into the water the second she ripped it out, her hands curling around my throat. Lifting me out of the water, the water turned a dark orange.
“Who are you?” I growled through gritted teeth, my fingers scratching at the hands. Wicked laughter exploded from her lips, air becoming a rare commodity with her strengthening grip. Bringing me inches from her face, giant yellow jackets hummed behind her.
“You can call me Waspia, your bringer of death!” She bragged with another cruel fit of laughter, neon lights blinding her. A voice called for me to wake up, her grip loosening. An angry red claimed my cheeks, a swift kick to her gut sent her flying back. Splashing into the water, a sharp clap had me snapping awake.
Sucking in a deep breath, my hands felt my abs for the wound. Sinking into the passenger seat with a long sigh consisting of honest relief, neon smoke threatened to choke me. Eris sucked in her own deep breath, her hair floating like it always did.
“You got lost somewhere. Are you going to be focused on our mission today? Every part of me wants to make Corpsy proud. I happen to be fond of her.” She sang with a shake of her shoulders, her smile falling at the tears cascading from my eyes. “Hel is with her today at that dumb meeting. I can’t believe she got promoted already.” Wut poked his head through the window, his hair floating up in her field of energy.
“That doesn’t mean we should stop worrying about her. She gets that numb look quite a bit.” He pointed out simply, his own scythes hitting the window. “You kept making weird noises. Are you okay?” Shooting him a shaky thumbs up, they had nothing to worry about. Fussing with my simple ruby dress shirt and dark jeans, my dear friend had a point. Energy built in the air, the wheels crunching to a halt in front of a warehouse nature had devoured. Ominous humming had us shrinking back. Knowing that she had wasps to fight for her, those pests would have to be taken out first. Wasps drowned, my eyes scanning the area for a large enough vat to go through with my plan. An empty pool a few feet from us had me grinning wickedly to myself, a snap of my fingers had a wave of water splashing into the pool. Picking up a rock, the nest wiggled enough to reveal itself. Rolling the rock in my finger, my team had to be the best they could be.
“Run to safety if you need to. A nest is about to be disturbed.” I warned them with a sly grin, Eris cracking her whip. Glowing eyes flitted between the nest and me, the rock hitting the paper nest with a dull thud had a flurry of human sized yellow jackets hummed furiously. Insects eyes focused on me, human screams giving me pause. Grinning sarcastically to myself, Murphy’s law had struck again.
“Save the people without getting your asses murdered!” I ordered impatiently, whistling to steal the wasps attention. Cutting my palm on a piece of metal on the way to the pool, the angry insects zoomed after me. Jumping into the pool, cool water felt nice on my skin. Blood muddied the water, three quarters of them decaying the moment they splashed into the water. Pulling myself out, the next step was seeking out Waspia. Spinning my scythe in my palm, a force had my heart stopping for a second. Corspy’s blood tainted the air, the bloodied pictures of us floating to my feet. Dropping a limp Corpsy and Hel to my feet, Waspia fluttered over my head. Purple claimed their veins, Hel struggling to her feet. Raising her blade in the air, a wasp stung her in the heart. A barely alive Corpsy slammed her fist onto the dirt, a spike impaling the insect. A cloud of dirt obscured her rough landing, blood pouring from the corner of her mouth. Using the tree to get her feet, Stormana made an appearance by Hel. Picking her up off the ground, her sword cut off Hel’s head. A tortured scream exploded from Corpsy’s lips, shadows devouring the space. Kicking her blade from the dagger’s case, her eager palm caught the expanding blade.
“Focus on Waspia. I can hold my own.” She barked with a quivering snarl, wild sobs wracking her body. “I can’t lose you again.” Dropping Hel’s corpse, Stormana’s blade clashed with hers violently. Coughing up a thick ooze, concern dimmed my eyes. Her speed doubled to match Stormana’s, the two becoming balls of light in the forest. A stinger whistled by my head, my fingers curling round her ankle. The ground split slightly the moment I slammed her down, my heel digging into her chest. Eris flew past me, her whip cracking in the still night air. Swinging my blade towards her neck, the goddess grinned one last time before accepting the blow. Decay ate at her body, a gracious thank you flooding from her lips. The giant nest crumbled to a pile of dust, the shadows glitching out. Wut’s robe fluttered the moment his fingers snatched my shirt, the two of us zooming towards the real fight. Skidding to a rough halt, Corpsy had undone her limit. Bleeding from every hole in her face, she needed to stop. A wave of flames headed our way, a wave of my hand giving rise to a wave of water. Eris fought by her side, my wife begging for her to stop.
“Go away! Go away!” She pleaded with wet eyes, her body taking a blow for her. Bones cracked, Eris rolling across the dirt. Cracking her whip, the leather curled around her good arm. Yanking her to the ground, her arms buried into a tackle. Neon green tears splashed onto her face, her pleas stopping Stormana in her tracks.
“Just because she died doesn’t mean you have to join her. Hel fought hard to protect you and lost her life. Honor her sacrifice by living!” She begged with an honest smile, her body collapsing onto hers. “You are like my sister, damn it!” Those words woke her up, her expression softening into an apologetic smile. Breaking into uncontrollable sobs, her arms clung to her like her life depended on it. Digging into her back, nothing would slow the tears. Stormana raised her blade, our turn coming up.
“Throw me into the fight.” I snapped impatiently, Wut throwing me with all he had. Rolling into a couple of flips, her attention turned to me. Fear rounded my eyes, the monster was immense. Tapping her blade against her legs, the color draining from my cheeks. A clammy sweat drenched my skin, Wut joining my side. Rubbing his scythes together, an eerie fog drowned the space. Unable to move her feet, Eris’ whip held her place. A broken Corpsy stared numbly into the sky, a rough slumber stealing her away. Nudging me, it was time to do one of our older bounty hunting tactics. Running away in opposite directions, her words cut deeper I let on.
“Does your wife know about your bounty hunter days?” She taunted cruelly, her eyes meeting mine. “Did I touch a nerve? Would she think less of you? The lowest rung of demons wouldn’t have you. What a powerful whip!” Bending down to pick it up, the opportunity presented itself. Pushing off the ground, realization dawned on me. We couldn’t win this battle without Corpsy, a sharp whistle canceling the plan. Wut nodded once before pushing off her back at the same time, his arms scooping up the ladies. Sprinting back towards the hearse, our window of escape would be miniscule at best. Scooping up Hel’s body on the way back, silent tears staining my cheeks at her body decaying upon my touch. Tossing Wut her heart before it decayed, his palm caught it. Tucking it into his robe, the ground shook behind us. Spinning my scythe in my palm, we needed a touch more time. Slamming the tip into the ground, dirt crumbled into a deep canyon. Falling into the biggest part, time wasn’t on my hands. Jumping into the driver’s seat, the scythe hit the leather. Cranking the key, the engine wouldn’t turn over. Panic mixed with frustration, low growls rumbled away in my throat.
“Come on! Come on, damn it!” I cursed tersely, hot flames casting her shadow in the canyon. The engine roared to life, the tires squealed in protest. Peeling onto the highway, horror rounded my eyes at the flaming motorcycle flying onto the road. When did the surprises end? Pressing the gas pedal to the floor, a crowd would provide us safety. Unfortunately, the sun wouldn’t rise for a couple of hours. Zooming around the turns, her motorcycle wobbled in protest with each turn. An abandoned racetrack had me thinking of a way to throw her off of her bike, the tires squealing with my abrupt turn. Smashing through the gate, Eris tapped my shoulder from the back. A wave of golden flames was heading our way, the heat would melt the hearse in seconds.
“Jump!” I barked over the chaos, doors opening at the same time. Hitting the cracked track, our bodies rolled into an untamed bush. Flames melted the hearse into a smoking pile of metal, the bike squealing to halt. Tapping the concrete, my scythe flew into my palm. A burn hissed to life, Wut covering my mouth to keep our cover. Summoning a bubble of water, the coolness eased the pain. Eris had my wife over her shoulders, the people from the warehouse gathered to see what caused the fire. Flames whisked Stormana away, a few of them calling emergency services. Catching our breath while waiting, Wut dialed Roseworth’s number. Hanging up in a couple of minutes, his mouth moved. Words weren’t hitting my ears, red and blue lights bathing the racetrack. Roseworth shoved her way through while presenting her badge, a tired smile lingering on my lips as she crouched down to my level. Smoothing out her designer suit, her smile fell.
“I am going to take over the investigation and you can get out of the bushes then.” She whispered discreetly while pretending to examine the bushes. “Where is Hel? I don’t see Corpsy without her.” My lips pressed into a thin line, her sharp wit placing the pieces of the puzzle together. Pressing her palms together, a small prayer tumbled from her lips.
“I am sorry for your loss. May Hel have a lovely afterlife.” She spoke gently, rising to her feet. Ordering everyone else to clear out, the local police officers guided the survivors into their cruisers. Roseworth’s team moved in to collect a few clues, her agents not looking up from their tasks. Guiding us to a black SUV, her shaking hand pressed the keys into my palm. Corpsy sucked in a deep breath, her feet hitting the concrete. Opening a door to one of the many gods’ realm, the door slammed shut on our face. Roseworth offered sincerely to take her home, Wut feeling around his pocket. The heart was gone, bewilderment twisting our features. Uncomfortable with leaving her behind, Wut and Eris leapt into the trees. Neon danced with black, the two of them heading back home. Refusing to leave, Corpsy would need me. Letting me sit in the car, the door opened up. A dejected Corpsy stepped out fresh tears cascading down her cheeks, her arms reaching for me. Hopping out of the car, her body smashed into me. Sobbing violently into my chest, her fingers dug into my back. Sinking to her knees, her hands glided down my legs. Burying her face into her palms, tears dribbled down her arm. The early morning painted her in pale pink, the dirt crunching as she curled into a ball. Remembering how she would do this on a bad day, her fingers traced the dirt with her dagger. Hel’s dagger shimmered in her other hand, another wave of sobs paralyzing her.
“I hate myself. Why do people keep trying to save me?” She whimpered into the concrete, her quaking hand slamming the tip of her blade into the concrete repeatedly. How long had it been since she broke down this horribly? Roseworth got onto her knees across from her, her hand cupping hers. Slowing the stabbing to a clumsy stop, her thumbs wiped away her tears. Maybe she could get her well enough to get up.
“How about we go out for breakfast and get some food into that stomach?” She suggested with a cautious grin, her arms yanking her into a bear hug. “I think of you as a sister. Don’t you ever leave me. I can’t live without you, my dear.” Mumbling a quick fine, she carried her to the SUV. Tossing me the keys, the leather groaned the moment I climbed into the driver’s seat. Sliding in next to Corpsy, her steady hand laid her head on her lap. Playing with her hair, the whole way to the nearest diner. The bell announced us walking into the silver restaurant, a cold waitress taking us to a booth by the biggest window. Staring numbly out the window, more tears splashed onto the table. Her lips parted to speak, the others shoving their way into diner. The girls and Miles squirming their way over to her, Roseworth winking in my direction. Brightening up enough to keep the kids happy, her lips brushed against the top of their heads feverishly. Clutching their bunnies close to their chest, Cal came in with a pad of paper and pencils. Sliding them over to her, he plopped down next to me.
“Draw out your emotions and carry them with you. I want to see what you can do.” He commented casually with his broken smile, apprehension burning in her eyes. Opening up the package, the waitress took our orders. The pencil’s tips never stopped dancing across the page, a childlike wonder brightening our eyes. The kids watched with dropped jaws, two pictures had mixed emotions flashing on our faces. Two perfect portraits of Croak and Hel stared back up at us with their trademark smiles, the pencil bouncing off of the pad. When did she learn to draw so well?
“I am sorry I failed you all.” She apologized sincerely, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Hel will always have a place in our hearts. Have faith in me. Never again will I let any of you die.” Fussing with her onyx robe, her finger traced the mask hanging out of her pocket. A commotion had our heads snapping towards the door, Hel coming in with the skeleton half of her face exposed. Leaping over the table, Corspy smashed into her. Tears of joy brightened her eyes, so many questions resting on the tips of our tongues.
“They didn’t seem to want to keep me there. Perhaps, I was a little loud.” She bragged with a big grin, her dagger flying into her hand. “How could I leave you alone in this god awful world? There is a catch to the deal I made. I die with you and that is that. You can’t go dying on me, okay.” Corpsy nodded her head vigorously, Hel cupping her face. Wiping away her tears with her thumbs, their bond was obvious. Dragging her to the table, the waitress rolled her eyes at another person. Shoving everyone down, her hand refused to leave hers. Calling for Hel to come chat with me for a moment, Corpsy was more than happy to entertain everyone with her genuine smile. Meeting her by the bathroom, my arms folded across my chest.
“How did you really come back down?” I interrogated her intensely, her smile falling. “Don’t you dare lie! Don’t ever leave us again. You fucking broke her!” Chuckling softly to herself, her hands crossed before her head bowed in shame. Crap! I might have gone too far again.
“I made a deal with the head god to be tied to her until she dies. I remember darkness and then the head god ripped me out of it. All of me couldn’t leave her alone to suffer. I pleaded and pleaded until they finally let me have my wish.” She admitted tearfully, wiping away her tears. “I will never be able to hide my face again. I gave that up for her. I love her like a sister, okay. When I was going to die, the numb expression from Croak’s death was all I could think of. Forgive me for caring.” Holding her shoulders with a gracious smile, any anger was gone. Her sacrifice wouldn’t go unnoticed, her natural smile returning.
“Thank you so much. My respect will always be yours to have.” I promised with a tired grin, both of us standing in an awkward silence for way too long. “Go on and guard her.” Nodding with the biggest smile, Hel had most certainly changed for the better. Coming out to see her admiring the drawings, her plea to keep hers was honored. Watching them blend together seamlessly, the flames of hope burned bright.

Chapter 29 - The Arcadia
Previous Chapter
Amanda yawned as she walked into the mess, idly scratching her shoulder. The rest of the crew was already assembled, yammering away over the destruction they’d spent much of the day wreaking upon the floating cloud of metal.
Josh nodded to Amanda and handed her a plate. “You look like you just woke up.”
“Took a nap. When it comes time to start doing the analysis at each point, I’m going to be the busiest one here.” Amanda took the plate and wandered over to the serving counter. “Best to catch up on my sleep now. Did I miss anything exciting?”
“Well, Proxima will officially know everything going on here in roughly 28 days.” Ma’et was digging into a plate full of Lasagna as she answered between bites. “Par and I got our full and complete report loaded up on the e-beacon. Every single detail about every new species we’ve met here. We sent it off right after the fireworks. Feathers had a ton of fun reducing big parts of the debris field here into slag.”
Amanda for her part went with Fettuccine with a side of steamed, buttered broccoli. A small part of her wanted to explain that Proxima was already aware of everything going on, but she knew she was forbidden to mention the FTL transmitter hidden in her terminal. And even if they were aware of the actions here, the low bandwidth meant they had almost no real details so the beacon was still wholly necessary. As she took her seat she glanced around at the assembled crew. “Do I even want to know how much of the Captain’s bank account you all went through with this little exercise?”
Alex rolled his eyes as he bit into his own dinner. After chewing and swallowing quickly, he pointed the piece of garlic-buttered bread at Amanda. “First off, they were mostly just railgun rounds. Cheap and easy to replace. We only fired off a handful of flak so we could show her the effects it’d have in zero-g, and how it messes with Radar. And not a single missile. So don’t even start on nickel-and-diming us about this.”
“Wait, Captain.” Trix looked up guiltily at this. “You said not to worry about the cost because you’re rich?”
Amanda snorted at that, and stabbed her fork into the pasta. “Not yet he’s not.”
“Hey. I own an FTL-capable ship. Exactly how many individuals can make the same claim?” Alex shot back defensively.
Amanda took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed and responded, “In all of Sol and Proxima? Entire ships owned by a single individual separate from a company? Probably two or three dozen people, in total.” Another forkful of pasta, and she looked down at it briefly then met the Captain’s gaze. “Yes, you still own the ship. But do you need me to remind you how much you still owe Terrafault for the remodel we did for you?”
Alex muttered something under his breath, while Trix looked around in confusion. “Is that good or bad?”
Min swallowed a bite of her own meal and shook her head at Trix. “Ships themselves aren’t difficult to get. There’s tens of thousands of individuals who own their own ships. What’s rare is FTL capability on a privately-owned ship. Ninety-nine point nine nine some odd percent of all FTL capable ships are owned by major corporations or the military. It’s not a thing to just ‘buy’ a Euler cannon. So normally that’s a mark of extreme wealth.”
Trix glanced down at her own plate. The pasta was liberally covered with red flecks of some kind of spice that reminded her of the ‘hot sauce’ from the other day. “So how did the Captain get one then, if he’s not rich?”
Alex smiled innocently. “Blackmail.”
Trix stared at him for several seconds, then turned to Ji. “I can’t actually tell if he’s serious or not.”
“He is. It’s just not nearly as simple as all that.” Ji took a drink of water, then sprinkled some more parmesan on his lasagna. “Give ‘er the full story, Alex. You’ve never been shy about telling it in the past.”
Alex nodded, and wiped his lips with a napkin. “Yeah, well… okay. There’s gonna be some bits here you probably won’t get, on account of being another species.”
“Hasn’t stopped me from understanding you all yet.”
“Fair point. But you guys mate for life. That is very much not standard for Humans.” Trix nodded at this. It was bizarre and honestly kind of horrifying to think about, but she knew that the permanence of her species’ unions was uncommon.
“So what happened is, I grew up with just me and my mother. We don’t have Teffs but Humans still live in colonies with other people because, social species. So just the two of us for my entire childhood. I grew up in a colony station near Velger IV. Didn’t really make friends back then, so mostly it was just me and mom while I grew up. I asked what happened to my dad, but she never would tell me. Just said ‘He left, never came back’ every time I asked. I thought she was upset about it but turns out there was never really any love there.”
“Anyway, when I turned 18, I decided to join up with the Proxima military. Took off to recruitment while Mom went back to work.I had all kinds of grand dreams about becoming a decorated spaceship captain. About rising through the ranks to command a battleship. And it all went absolutely to crap.”
“You are a spaceship captain, though.” Trix pointed out.
“Yup. But not a military one. I made it three months into boot before I realized I couldn’t stand it. I’m pretty bad with extremely rigid structure and zero flexibility, and for some stupid reason as a kid I didn’t realize that meant that wouldn’t mesh well with the Military. After a few months I realized it’d get worse, and that was that. I quit the military but didn’t really know what to do next. My plan was to spend a year or two on Nexus Station while figuring things out. That didn’t last long either.”
Trix continued to eat as she listened, and nodded for him to continue.
“About a month and a half after I left the military, I got a message that there was an accident. My mom had passed away at work. The company sent me a bunch of cash for ‘condolences’ but it didn’t last long. When I realized I was completely and totally alone, I kind of had a little breakdown. It took me a bit to get my shit back together, and when I did that money had ran out. I wasn’t sure what to do next when I got a net message. From Mom.”
“The message was one of those ‘If you’re reading this then I’ve died’ things. In it she laid out the truth. My dad was an exec at the Proxima-Sirius staryards. They met, hooked up, then split. The message made it fairly clear it was just a fling but regardless I knew who my dad was. I worked a bunch of odd jobs and saved up a bit to get fare to transit from Nexus to the P-S Corporate station.”
Trix stared at Alex, trying to imagine the loneliness he’d been through. No matter what, a Teff was family. You could lose one or both parents and still be cared for, comforted, and have plenty of others around you to help you through things. Only a scant handful had ever lost their entire Teff and been entirely alone. To her, it was an unimaginable sort of nightmare.
“Once I was on the station, I found my dad pretty quick. Only he wasn’t just an exec. He was now CEO and co-owner.” Alex smiled, with absolutely zero joy on his face now. “And that opened up a huge can of worms.”
“A huge what?”
“Human expression. Means ‘it caused a ton of trouble’.” Alex nibbled on his garlic bread as he relayed the story. “See, my dad WAS just an exec when he met my mom. But then he got married to the daughter of the owner of the company. That’s how he rose in rank. And the two of them had kids, but each of them favored different kids and there was a big power struggle going on between the two parents and the kids they favored. There was, to say the very least, a ton of drama happening between different executives who saw this as a means to get ahead in the company. And suddenly in the midst of all this drama - boom. I show up.”
“Now, for a very, very long time we’ve had the technology to be able to compare genetics and determine if someone’s actually related or not. So when I show up, the data all shows that yup - that’s my dad. No question there. We get into a meeting, I explain what happened to mom, give him a brief rundown of my life until then, just bringing him up to speed more or less. He asks me to leave for a day and when I come back the next day, there’s several dozen lawyers there. They’re all freaking out about me, about not letting his wife find out he had a kid, quizzing me about every detail of my story. They're asking me why I’m here, what do I want, why didn’t I show up before, really grilling me bad. One of ‘em keeps trying to shove papers my way asking me to sign something but I’m way too freaked out by everything going on. The questioning continues and I’m not thinking straight and eventually I just blurt out without even thinking ‘I’m trying to become a starship captain and I want to explore space!’”
Everyone at the table had heard the story before, but his reaction still managed to get some chuckles out of the crew. Trix couldn’t imagine why. This whole story was just too bizarre from her point of view to even approach humor.
“Eventually we arranged a settlement. Legally, I’m no longer his son. I have about five hundred pieces of paper and countless digital copies of that paper exist out there that say that I am not related to that man at all. I am also under a restraining order to never dock at the Proxima-Sirius Corporate station for any reason. In exchange for all that, I was given full and formal ownership of the Arcadia. Which, at the time, was a mostly-finished FTL-capable yacht designed for rich space tourists. Zero armaments. Particle shielding only. Full of all kinds of fancy amenities that rich people use that most people wouldn’t give a damn about. Worth a very, very small fortune but worth FAR less than an ownership stake in the P-S Shipyards.”
“I think they were expecting me to sell it or something, because when I finally got the ship I started realizing how expensive it is to maintain. Docking costs at stations and planets aren’t free. Maintenance costs aren’t cheap. The Euler Cannon’s core has limited uses before it has to be replaced and that’s EXPENSIVE. And I was a stupid 18 year old so of course I blew a dozen uses of the core on stupid bullshit. Very quickly I’d started to realize how far over my head I actually was.”
“That’s horrible!” Trix exclaimed, suddenly.
“Yeah, it was a real wake-up call. Cores are pricey but I was able to...”
“No, all that stuff with your family!” Trix stood up suddenly. “Your father found out he had a son he abandoned you? JUST LIKE THAT?” She was yelling and she didn’t know why.
Min reached over and put a hand on hers. “Trix, we’re Humans. We live our lives differently.”
“She’s right though.” Josh interjected. “It’s still pretty horrible.”
Alex looked between the two and just sighed. “It is what it is. I can’t change the past and I can’t change that man. In the end, it put me here. So it’s not like I can complain.”
Trix sat down and stared at the plate in front of her. “I just can’t even really wrap my head around it. On Kiveyt, we’re all raised together. If something happens to our family, the Teff is there for us. If anything happens to the Teff then we can join the Teff responsible for us. We aren’t alone, ever. But when you found your dad he just…” She bit down on her lip.
“I mean… I didn’t know him growing up. I don’t know him now. As far as I’m concerned, nothing changed for me.” Alex rocked back and forth slightly on the chair as he spoke. “To get back to the story, I spent a few years doing in-system courier work but that ended up being boring, and didn’t pay for shit. After Josh and Par joined up, we did some tours of particularly nice looking spots for rich tourists which went really well until pirates slipped someone onboard and the ship was nearly scuttled. Took every last penny the three of us had to get her fixed, but the jobs had dried up. We thought we were completely sunk when Terrafault reached out to us.”
Amanda had finished her meal and was casually sipping at a drink as she listened in on the story. “Honestly it was a surprise they didn’t reach out to you sooner. There were active orders to recruit any and all independent pilots we could, and the fact that you owned a ship should have made you the most attractive prospect available.”
“They might have. Honestly back then I was absolutely shit at checking my messages on the ‘net. God only knows what I missed.” Alex mused.
“Why was he an ‘attractive prospect’?” Trix was trying very, very hard to concentrate on the story and NOT think about the horrific way these Humans treated their family.
“Well, at the time Terrafault was being beaten to nearly every decent survey location out there.” Amanda kicked off her shoes with a clatter on the floor. “Our fault really. We grew just a bit too fast and made a fair amount of enemies in the private mineral sector. Apparently some of our competition had bribed a few individuals in the Proxima government. Corporations aren’t allowed to explore freely, we have to actually notify the authorities of our plans. Whenever we’d submit a request to survey a system, by the time we received approval we’d arrive there to find someone else had laid claim to the minerals.”
“That’s the downside to the immense bureaucracy that infests government.“ Alex couldn’t keep the snide note from his voice. “It’s entirely too easy to throw money and weight around in places where nobody can see and end up getting screwed over because of it.”
“ANYWAY. The Captain being an independent pilot meant he can go wherever he wants without having to file the same paperwork a corporation does.” Amanda glared at Alex and kicked one of her shoes over at him. “So we were able to kill two birds with one stone. We continued to submit survey paperwork, but this time for junk systems to force our competition into spending money to find nothing. Meanwhile we fed the Captain the data to good systems, he goes out and does the survey, the claims belong to him and he sells them to us. Win-win.”
Alex made a face back at Amanda. “Since I’m not TECHNICALLY a Terrafault employee, I don’t have to abide by the same rules they do either. Which gives me a hell of a lot more freedom than their pilots.”
“When you put it like that it almost makes them sound like slaves.” Amanda shot back. “You and I both know they enjoy the same freedoms you do.”
“Oh, sure. Freedom to fly whenever the company has filled out the paperwork to fly to, and nowhere else. See, Trix, this is why Corporations are terrible. They restrict what you can or can’t do, where you can or can’t go, all in the name of profits.” Alex gestured around him. “If I was an ‘official’ Terrafault employee do you think we’d be here now? Hell no.”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the Captain. “If not for the corporation and its resources, you’d still be ferrying people thousands of times richer than you around to ooh and ahh at nebulas and ice rings. And that’s BEST CASE scenario, worst case the ship’d be sold and you’d be off doing god knows what with the cash.” She turned to Trix immediately. “What he’s not telling you is that the reason you were able to have all that fun earlier, the reason this ship even HAS weapons in the first place, is because he took out a massive loan from Terrafault in order to properly equip this tub for expeditions like this one. Without us, he’d still be flying an unarmed, unarmored yacht.”
Alex bit his tongue as he recognized the old arguments that Amanda used to rile him up. “That much, at least, is true. After we fixed the Arcadia up and Terrafault contacted us we did a major refit. That’s when we got proper ablative armor, pinpoint shielding, launcher bays, and the Fabber. Though the main gun is military surplus. There was a small colony near Sol that pissed off the bear and got ‘integrated’ for their troubles. The few military ships that escaped were cannibalized for credits, and so we picked up the gatling railcannon on the cheap.”
Trix glanced between Alex and Amanda. “So the Captain’s independent, but works with Terrafault. But he took out a huge loan from you guys to refit the ship. And he works for you to pay it back?”
“Right on the money.” Alex stood up and walked over to the bev dispenser, refilling his cup. “Whenever we do a mission I get sell all mineral claim rights back to Terrafault. They reimburse us for expenses incurred, plus any discoveries we made during the mission. I split the cash with the crew, set aside some for maintenance costs and an emergency fund, and put the rest back into the loan. It’s actually not that bad. We’ve been doing these runs for Terrafault for about two decades now, and at the rate we were going I could have paid off the ship refit in another six or seven years.”
“‘Could have?’” Ma’et glanced over at the Captain. “I thought that was still the plan?”
“Not anymore. Think about it, Ma’et. Remember the huge bonus from finding Guylevo? The money from surveying a habitable planet was nothing compared to what waits for us back home. SIX confirmed first contacts, four of which are peaceful, and one of which is filled with the most incredible people out there.” Alex took a long drink from his cup, and gestured towards Trix. “After this mission, you’ll all have enough money to buy yachts like the Arcadia without blackmail at all!”
Trix shot to her feet and glared over at the Captain. “How can you even joke about that? About being abandoned like that?”
Alex’s mood sobered as he recognized her anger over the story. “I joke about it because what else can I do? As far as he’s concerned, I was just an inconvenience who showed up at the worst possible time. There’s nothing I can do to change that, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.” He set the cup down and walked around the table. “When my mom passed, I didn’t know about any other family. So instead I decided to make a new family.” He gestured to the others here. “Granted, it’s pretty dysfunctional. But I’m pretty happy with things now.”
Trix looked around at the others, then sat back down. “I’m sorry. What you described is just really upsetting. Family is everything back on Kiveyt. We don’t treat it lightly like you humans do out here.”
Josh shook his head, and stood up. “Don’t lump us all in there. Many of us take family just as seriously. Not a single person on this ship would sell off their kid, no matter what the circumstances. Humanity has some pretty shitty members, but we have our good ones too.”
Trix felt her wings droop as she realized she spoke without thinking. “I didn’t mean to… imply you were all like that.”
“You didn’t.” Alex walked over to the door and finished draining the glass, before setting it down on the counter next to the exit. “It’s a fact that there’s good humans and bad ones. In fact, I’m more than a bit worried about what happens when our bad apples find their way to your planet. Keep that in mind when you meet people outside of the crew. Everyone here is good people, but the universe is a pretty cruel place all things considered. There’s no shortage of people who are exactly as bad as Matriarch Kyshe thought we were. Anyway, story’s told and we’re starting the new shift rotation tomorrow. I’m going to get some sleep now. Night gang.”
As he left, Trix slumped down against the table. “Did I upset him?”
Min reached over to lay a sympathetic hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You did nothing wrong. Dealing with the past means dredging up all kinds of memories, both good and bad. It’s something we all deal with.”
“He usually really likes telling that story,” Josh commented. “Especially when it gets to the bit about when we were attacked by pirates. He normally goes into a lot of detail and exaggerates that bit.”
Trix glanced up at that. “I thought that part WAS an exaggeration.”
“Nope. Really happened.” Josh leaned back slightly, putting his fingers on his chin. “Actually, Trix, I think you ARE the reason he’s like that. You were more upset on his behalf than anyone else I’ve seen him tell that story to. That’s not a bad thing,” Josh added quickly. “Being upset for him is a nice gesture.”
“It’s just such a shock.” Trix took a deep breath and sat back up from where she was slumped against the table. “I’d heard other species don’t stay together like we do. Everyone HEARS of that, it’s on the news and they mention it in schools. But knowing it happens then hearing about someone just… abandoned like that?”
“It’s more common than any of us would like.” Josh nodded and stared down into his own drink. “Truth be told the Captain has things a lot easier than most abandoned kids. Not to downplay what happened to him, but most never find their other parent. And for those that do, the other parent usually has major problems of their own. It ends badly for everyone involved.”
“How do you guys deal with that?” Trix glanced around at everyone assembled. “I mean, not you personally but like… Humans.”
Ma’et responded in a quiet voice. “Everyone deals with it their own way. There’s all kinds of circumstances for people. Some people deal with it well. Others not so well. There’s no single set path for us, nothing that tells us all how to handle the tough times. We just do the best we can.”
Min glanced around, the somber mood had spread to the entire group. “You know what can help? Music.” She tugged on Trix’s shoulder. “C’mon, Trix. Let’s go bunk down. I’ll send over a few songs you can listen to.”
—--
The liquid filling the room had a sickly green tint to it, and the Inquisitor’s snout wrinkled in disgust. It waddled forward, to where the Interpreter Sixth was finishing his feast - upon one of his own crew that had displeased him. It was a show of strength, the Inquisitor knew. One it had seen many, many times before. And would see, many times again.
As the Interpreter finished his meal he turned to the intruder upon his ship. “So, Inquisitor. What news have you brought?”
“News from the Holy One. The Star-Thieves have been seen again.” The Inquisitor kept the contempt from its voice. Interpreters always thought themselves to be grander and of more import than they truly were. In the end though they were simply another instrument of the Will of the Heavens. As were all Tanjeeri.
“Hmph.” The Inquisitor lifted himself up on his legs, then let himself fall. “And why do you bear this news? Why is a Voice not here to bring a commandment?”
“I am here because the Holy One has instructed me to be.” A long, thin arm protruded from the Inquisitor’s robe. “I am here because the Thieves have angered the Heavens themselves, and the Holy One has seen it.” A large, red stone rested within the Inquisitor’s palm.
The sight of the stone immediately caused the Interpreter to freeze, as he glared down at the thin, whip-like creature before him. “Is the Holy One calling for a crusade?”
“He would, yes, but we have no knowledge of the Thieves. Are they one or are they many? Where do they reside? We have seen them in the presence of the Smooth ones, and we know they reside in the Dry with the other infidels. And they have gone to the odd ones, and visited their world.” The red stone disappeared back into the robe, and the Inquisitor shook their head. The cowl drifted in the murky water. “The Holy One’s sight is unmatched, but the Thieves cloak themselves in the shadows of the Starlight. We cannot rely on sight alone in our pursuit of them.”
“No sight. And the Void has no currents upon which we can sniff them out.” The Interpreter slowly spun around the room, glancing at the instruments and panels around him. “Where were the Thieves last seen?”
“The Holy One saw them returning to the Dry station where the Smooth ones first saw them. Then they were seen where the Star-Heart was found within the infidels’ ship.” The Inquisitor withdrew an etched tablet.
“Then we simply assault that star again. We crash down upon the Thieves as a wave, and drag them under.”
The Inquisitor shook its head. “The Holy One watched the Thieves as they left the Odd ones’ world. They are swift, and cannot be caught so easily.”
The Interpreter grew silent, croaking softly as he thought. “They left the Odd ones world. They returned to the dry station and the dead ship among the Stars. Would it not stand to reason they’d return to the Odd ones home as well?”
“It would. But the Holy One has seen that we will not move against the Odd ones.”
A long tongue snaked out of the Interpreter’s mouth, as he released a torrent of bubbles into the murky water. “A pity, that. The Odd ones taste so good. Well then our path seems quite clear to me.”
“It does?” The Inquisitor glanced skeptically at the Interpreter. The thought of this bulbous indulgent being able to offer up any insight seemed ludicrous, and it was all that the Inquisitor could do not to laugh derisively at that.
“It does. The Holy One says we cannot catch the Thieves in the open. We cannot move against the Odd ones. We must take the Dry station, then. It is the only option left. We take it and we wait for them to come close…” A claw dragged across the metal floor. “And then we take the Thieves.”
The Inquisitor hesitated at that. “But they may not return to the Dry station, and if they do the Smooth ones have left it already.”
The Interpreter released a short, sharp laugh at this. “Then yours is a fools’ errand! If we cannot catch them at the Odd ones, if we cannot catch them in the open, and we know not where else to look for them, then we must turn to the only place we know they have been. We must take the station! To do anything else would require knowledge we do not possess. Tell me I am wrong!”
The Inquisitor scowled furiously in its hood. The damnable creature had a point. “I will not tell you that you are wrong. Nor will I say that you are right. That is not why I am here. What I will do is relay your response to the Holy One, as is my job. I will return to the Inquisitory. YOU will do nothing more until a Voice returns.” It wished, so greatly, to be able to tell off the disgusting Interpreter but it could not. Its duty was clear. But it took great pleasure in turning around and leaving at that. To leave without being dismissed was a slight, at most, but to a self-important creature like the Interpreter the slight would rankle.
As the Inquisitor left, a page drew near and bent down before the Interpreter. “Your orders, Holy Interpreter?”
Do nothing more? That worm knew NOTHING! He was the Interpreter, and it was his decisiveness and cunning that had granted him this position. “The trap will be set. There is no other course. But we must chase the Thieves into it. Send a small Claw against them, in the system where the Star-Heart was found. We will chase them, and they will flee from us as all do. And when they return to the Dry station, we will be waiting.”
“By your will, Interpreter.”
—--
Trix glanced out the window at the asteroid cluster. From here, it was just a group of shining stars. Unlike other stars, these would occasionally flicker or dim as they’d rotate. But on the screen in front of her their true nature was revealed, as massive chunks of rock floating in space. Chunks of rock which apparently were worth untold amounts of money. “You guys should have brought some of the M’rit out here instead of me.”
“And why would we have done that?” Par replied. The two of them shared the watch shift today, and the digital being’s lack of a physical presence made the bridge feel empty.
“Well that’s where all our mines are, so I assume they’d find these rocks a lot more interesting than I would.” Trix amused herself by spinning around in the Captain’s Chair. She didn’t actually like sitting in it that much, since it wasn’t designed for a winged species - she had to fold her wings around her in a less-than-comfortable manner to sit in it. Still, she had to admit it was nice to look down on all the other consoles.
“Perhaps. But then, you would be back at home tending to the fields. Would you prefer that?”
Trix sighed heavily. “You’re so damn boring to argue with. You always make really great points.”
“I do. Which is why arguing with me is pointless.” Par sent a remote in to hover near Trix. “You were warned that not all of this mission would be enjoyable.”
“I know. Shut up.” Trix stood up and stretched out her wings, then stomped back down to her seat. It was far, far more comfortable - especially now that Ji and Min had redesigned it for her anatomy. “The mission is fine. I just didn’t realize we’d be spending so much time waiting.”
“If you’d like, we could watch the salvage bot.” The main screen changed as Par spoke, and the image of the robot came up on the screen. The bot itself seemed motionless as it perched upon the side of the asteroid. A large pipe jutting out of it was spewing a constant stream of dust into the air. It was fascinating to watch as the glittering minerals sprayed off into the distance.
“I mean it looked great for a while, but it got boring fast. I’ve been spoiled. It’s your fault, you know.” Trix ignored the screen and just tilted the seat back as far as it would go.
“How is it my fault?”
“Not you specifically, Par. Humans' fault. You guys introduced me to all those shows. All that music. All that media. You introduced a poor little farm girl to human culture and now she’s been horribly ruined by it.”
The entire planet had gone bonkers over the Humans’ music. But Trix knew that they hadn’t even scratched the surface. The shows she’d watched and been introduced to since she joined the crew… those were where she’d absolutely gotten hooked.
Par’s remote floated up in front of Trix, waggling a holographic finger admonishingly at her. “I fear for your planet when our libraries become public. You’ve had access to less than a thousandth of all the media we have produced over the centuries, and you’re hopelessly addicted.”
Trix shoved the metal sphere aside. “Yeah well can’t blame us for that. We never really had a chance to develop anything like that stuff.”
Par pulled up a number of images on his displays. “Nonsense. Your civilization had plays and theater, even before the Bunters arrival.”
“Sure. But we never had ANYTHING like your shows and animation!” Trix couldn’t help but grin as she slowly spun in her seat. “I still don’t even understand how anyone could spend all that time drawing the same picture over and over again, but just a little bit differently each time.”
“Well, it’s a job like any other. People do the things they enjoy and that they’re good at.”
“I guess so. Is that what that post-scarcity thing Amanda was talking about means? We’ll have time to do just… whatever? Make drawings? Make music?”
“Not necessarily. Humanity has produced media in multiple forms long before we achieved post-scarcity. To us, cultural distractions like music and video are necessary. For the artists, they’re self-expression. For the consumers, they’re recreation. Both recreation and expression are quite necessary for our species.”
“I guess. We need recreation as well, but we socialize a lot for that.”
“Your society places different emphasis on different types of recreation. That’s natural. You’ve grown on a different planet, with different circumstances. Meaning that even when your society does achieve post-scarcity, there is no guarantee you’ll become just like us. I am sure that you and your people will have your own, unique experience unlike any other.”
“It’s hard to even imagine. Enough stuff being made that anyone can have anything at all without work. Humanity living like that seems so impossible to me.”
The sphere settled down on the console next to Trix. “That is only partially accurate. While it is true that all basic needs are met without requiring labor, luxuries in many forms are still desired in great enough quantities that mass production cannot entirely keep up. Additionally, labor is still an important part of the Human experience, as it can fulfill many needs.”
“Like what? If you can just live without doing anything, why bother working?”
“I’m unsure if your species has a similar drive, but the urge to be useful is strong within many Humans. For some it is important to ‘leave their mark’ on the world, for others they use their workplace to achieve a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. And for others it fulfills needs to socialize with others. It is well-documented that the motivational drive to make accomplishments is a healthy part of the human psyche. Without it, any number of psychological and behavioral issues manifest.”
Trix shook out her wings, and picked at a couple of the feathers that stuck together. “I dunno. We work to live. If we don’t have to work, I’m not sure what we’d do.”
“That’s an issue that your people will likely have to face. When bereft of the need to work, what replaces that part of your life? For a great many Humans the desire to contribute something of value to the world is a difficult impulse to resist. For others, another extremely strong motivator is the desire to succeed amongst one’s peers. I believe this motivation is shared amongst our two people.”
“Yeah. Okay, that part sounds like us. Everyone wants to show off in front of their friends.” Trix closed her eyes and reached out in front of her, grasping at the air where her Aircar’s handlebars would be. “And sure, I could imagine a ton of people wanting to race the challenges if they didn’t have to work. But why would they do OTHER jobs?”
“If you accomplish something, even if that something is incredibly minor, would that not put you as more successful to someone who simply lives accomplishing nothing?”
“Huh. I mean… I guess so.” She opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s still weird to think about.”
“It IS quite premature at this point. Still, if you look at the situation as a whole it is a good problem to have.”
Trix glanced down at the silver ball. “What do you mean by that?”
“Progress is natural. Technology exists to make lives easier. As your species grows more technologically advanced, lives become easier. Post-scarcity is inevitable. Unless something were to happen to your species such as being destroyed from within or without. Or, if your species were to be completely subsumed by another. In that light, wouldn’t reaching post-scarcity and trying to determine how your species handles it be a good problem to have?”
“That’s kind of a bleak way to look at it. ‘Be happy you’re not dead or slaves’ seems kind of macabre.” Trix glanced over at the system display. Still nothing out of the ordinary. “But I guess it’s a valid point.”
“Unfortunately when dealing with planning for the future of an entire species, it’s a point that needs to be addressed. There’s an ancient human theory called the ‘Great Filter’ which was used for an extremely long time to attempt to determine why Humanity hadn’t found intelligent life amongst the stars. The gist of it was that life must be commonplace but intelligent life was rare, and the theory attempted to explain why that may be. Self destruction was among the reasons listed that a species would fail to reach space and make contact, and unfortunately on at least two exoplanets we have discovered that seemed to have happened.”
Par’s sphere floated up and the image on the display shifted to two large images of planets. “In both instances we found evidence of pre-spaceflight worlds that had at one point contained life, but the presence of radioactive isotopes and the damage wrought indicated a society that self-destructed via the use of nuclear armaments. Exact details of the collapse of the two societies are still being investigated by anthropologists but given the thoroughness of the destruction, the specifics may not ever be known.”
A shiver ran up Trix’s back as she stared up at the two screens. Somehow the thought of an entire species perishing all at once touched some deep existential dread within her, and she pressed the command to blank the screen. “Other people wiped themselves out. That’s why you guys thought there wasn’t life outside of your world?”
“That and the lack of any form of radio signals of any meaningful note. Radio was one of our first great technologies. To Humans, it seemed as though any other intellect among the stars would develop radio quite early in their development. As such, we sought out radio waves in the void. Not finding any made us believe that we were alone.” Par hummed idly as he spoke, giving his already musical-voice an unusual undertone.
“Well you’re not alone, so that theory is obviously not correct.”
“Your presence onboard the ship is decisive evidence to that effect, yes.” Par digitally laughed at this, though it was odd. It sounded perfectly natural yet somehow it came across as strangely emotionless to Trix. “I am sure that when knowledge of not just your but all the other species existence here in Perseus becomes widely known a large number of previous theories and thought experiments will end up being adjusted accordingly.”
“Well I’m glad to hear you guys will at least be affected slightly by us.” Trix stood up and spun her chair around, sitting down so her chest was against the narrow backrest. “Sorta feels like you guys are gonna be the ones making US change.”
“And that’s why we need a Prime Directive.” Josh walked into the room, interrupting the conversation. He was carrying an insulated mug giving off steam as he walked in. “Gotta keep our filthy influences from desecrating society too much.”
“I wasn’t calling you guys filthy.” Trix leaned against the chair, glancing up at the time. “You’re twenty minutes early today.”
“Yeah, woke up early and felt restless.” Josh shrugged and took his seat at the XO console. “But as to us being filthy, by and large I think we are. What’d I walk in on anyway?”
“Philosophical meanderings and stream of consciousness discussions regarding post-scarcity, the Great Filter, and the effects that Humanity will have on the Sovalin species as a whole.” Par summed it up rather neatly.
“In other words a boring shift where nothing happened.” Trix was even more concise. “What’s that Prime Direction you talked about?”
“Prime Directive.” Josh pulled up his console and transferred command over to it. He set the mug down on a coaster, and shited around to make himself comfortable. “In one of our works of fiction, space travelers and explorers are bound by law not to interfere with developing species so that their culture and values are unaffected by our own.”
“Thats’ stupid. Why bother with that? If other species are more like you, wouldn’t that make it easier to make friends and stuff?”
“Probably. But then who knows what kinds of amazing things we’d miss out on by not letting another culture flourish?”
“But that’s just it. We don’t have the kinds of amazing things you guys do. What do we have to offer that Humanity would enjoy?”
Josh reached over to the mug, taking a sip of the scalding hot bitter coffee inside. “That’s what we find out together. I’ll tell you this though. The aircar races you guys do will DEFINITELY be a hit back in Proxima. We’ve done many similar things but for whatever reason we never got into trying to fly a gauntlet like that.”
Trix sat up straighter at that. “Wait, really?”
(Continued in Comments)

I've been wondering about the two different types of vision Bran has after eating the weirwood paste so I figured I'd write it up, and I'd love to hear any thoughts you lot have about any of it :)
After being in the cave a while the CotF eventually bring Bran some nasty looking paste, and tell him that it's the necessary next step for him to go beyond just skinchanging and become a proper greenseer. He eats the paste and notices it's flavour changes from bitter to delicious, is very confused about why he ever disliked it, then consciously goes "into" the tree, has one very short vision of his father back at Winterfell, then comes back to reality. (All excerpts from ADWD Bran III):

"This will help awaken your gifts and wed you to the trees.” Bran did want to be married to a tree … but who else would wed a broken boy like him? A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. A greenseer. He ate. It had a bitter taste, though not so bitter as acorn paste. The first spoonful was the hardest to get down. He almost retched it right back up. The second tasted better. The third was almost sweet. The rest he spooned up eagerly. Why had he thought that it was bitter? It tasted of honey, of new-fallen snow, of pepper and cinnamon and the last kiss his mother ever gave him. The empty bowl slipped from his fingers and clattered on the cavern floor. “I don’t feel any different. What happens next?” Leaf touched his hand. “The trees will teach you. The trees remember.” He raised a hand, and the other singers began to move about the cavern, extinguishing the torches one by one. The darkness thickened and crept toward them. “Close your eyes,” said the three-eyed crow. “Slip your skin, as you do when you join with Summer. But this time, go into the roots instead. Follow them up through the earth, to the trees upon the hill, and tell me what you see.” Bran closed his eyes and slipped free of his skin. Into the roots, he thought. Into the weirwood. Become the tree. For an instant he could see the cavern in its black mantle, could hear the river rushing by below. Then all at once he was back home again. Lord Eddard Stark sat upon a rock beside the deep black pool in the gods wood, the pale roots of the heart tree twisting around him like an old man’s gnarled arms. The greatsword Ice lay across Lord Eddard’s lap, and he was cleaning the blade with an oilcloth. “Winterfell,” Bran whispered. His father looked up. “Who’s there?” he asked, turning … … and Bran, frightened, pulled away. His father and the black pool and the godswood faded and were gone and he was back in the cavern, the pale thick roots of his weirwood throne cradling his limbs as a mother does a child. A torch flared to life before him. “Tell us what you saw.” From far away Leaf looked almost a girl, no older than Bran or one of his sisters, but close at hand she seemed far older. She claimed to have seen two hundred years.

Then later, after Leaf and Brynden very poetically lay down the law about visions (Bran can't interact with the past so dont even try it; he has no control of what he sees yet, this was just something he wanted; eventually he won't even need the trees; we got no idea how long this is gonna take, etc) Bran is carried back to his usual spot in the cave and left alone (except for Hodor). He gazes into the fire, which he couldn't do before because the Children extinguished all the torches once he'd eaten the paste, and then (bold emphasis mine):

Watching the flames, Bran decided he would stay awake till Meera came back. Jojen would be unhappy, he knew, but Meera would be glad for him. He did not remember closing his eyes. … but then somehow he was back at Winterfell again, in the gods-wood looking down upon his father. Lord Eddard seemed much younger this time. His hair was brown, with no hint of grey in it, his head bowed. “… let them grow up close as brothers, with only love between them,” he prayed, “and let my lady wife find it in her heart to forgive …” “Father.” Bran’s voice was a whisper in the wind, a rustle in the leaves. “Father, it’s me. It’s Bran. Brandon.” Eddard Stark lifted his head and looked long at the weirwood, frowning, but he did not speak. He cannot see me, Bran realized, despairing. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but all that he could do was watch and listen. I am in the tree. I am inside the heart tree, looking out of its red eyes, but the weirwood cannot talk, so I can’t. Eddard Stark resumed his prayer. Bran felt his eyes fill up with tears. But were they his own tears, or the weirwood’s? If I cry, will the tree begin to weep? The rest of his father’s words were drowned out by a sudden clatter of wood on wood. Eddard Stark dissolved, like mist in a morning sun. Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn’t be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout. “You be quiet, stupid,” the girl said, tossing her own branch aside. “It’s just water. Do you want Old Nan to hear and run tell Father?” She knelt and pulled her brother from the pool, but before she got him out again, the two of them were gone. After that the glimpses came faster and faster, till Bran was feeling lost and dizzy. He saw no more of his father, nor the girl who looked like Arya, but a woman heavy with child emerged naked and dripping from the black pool, knelt before the tree, and begged the old gods for a son who would avenge her. Then there came a brown-haired girl slender as a spear who stood on the tips of her toes to kiss the lips of a young knight as tall as Hodor. A dark-eyed youth, pale and fierce, sliced three branches off the weirwood and shaped them into arrows. The tree itself was shrinking, growing smaller with each vision, whilst the lesser trees dwindled into saplings and vanished, only to be replaced by other trees that would dwindle and vanish in their turn. And now the lords Bran glimpsed were tall and hard, stern men in fur and chain mail. Some wore faces he remembered from the statues in the crypts, but they were gone before he could put a name to them. Then, as he watched, a bearded man forced a captive down onto his knees before the heart tree. A white-haired woman stepped toward them through a drift of dark red leaves, a bronze sickle in her hand. “No,” said Bran, “no, don’t,” but they could not hear him, no more than his father had. The woman grabbed the captive by the hair, hooked the sickle round his throat, and slashed. And through the mist of centuries the broken boy could only watch as the man’s feet drummed against the earth … but as his life flowed out of him in a red tide, Brandon Stark could taste the blood.

Bran seemingly believes this is a dream at the very beginning, assuming he'd closed his eyes but forgot doing so, but it isn't necessarily one. And this is the end of the chapter and the last we see of him - we dont know if he "wakes up" after, or if he still thinks it's a dream towards the end (although he does begin describing the scenes as "visions" so perhaps we can assume he doesn't). Definitely comes across more like a Melisandre-style fire vision than a dream imho.
If we rule out it being a dream, there's two options left. Either it's the continued effect of the weirwood paste (i.e. an intended part of his training), or it's a non-dream vision sequence Bran had all on his own. And I think there's at least one pretty damning indication that it's the second one, because the weirwood paste did something else to Bran too.
Prior to eating the paste Bran is clearly horrified by Brynden's whole tree guy situation and the idea he's gonna end up the same, describing it like this:

Seated on his throne of roots in the great cavern, half-corpse and half-tree, Lord Brynden seemed less a man than some ghastly statue made of twisted wood, old bone, and rotted wool. The only thing that looked alive in the pale ruin that was his face was his one red eye, burning like the last coal in a dead fire, surrounded by twisted roots and tatters of leathery white skin hanging off a yellowed skull. The sight of him still frightened Bran—the weirwood roots snaking in and out of his withered flesh, the mushrooms sprouting from his cheeks, the white wooden worm that grew from the socket where one eye had been. He liked it better when the torches were put out. In the dark he could pretend that it was the three-eyed crow who whispered to him and not some grisly talking corpse. One day I will be like him. The thought filled Bran with dread. Bad enough that he was broken, with his useless legs. Was he doomed to lose the rest too, to spend all of his years with a weirwood growing in him and through him? Lord Brynden drew his life from the tree, Leaf told them. He did not eat, he did not drink. He slept, he dreamed, he watched. I was going to be a knight, Bran remembered. I used to run and climb and fight. It seemed a thousand years ago. What was he now? Only Bran the broken boy, Brandon of House Stark, prince of a lost kingdom, lord of a burned castle, heir to ruins. He had thought the three-eyed crow would be a sorcerer, a wise old wizard who could fix his legs, but that was some stupid child’s dream, he realized now. I am too old for such fancies, he told himself. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. That was as good as being a knight. Almost as good, anyway.

He's trying to be brave, but at gut-instinct level he is not at all down for this fate, no thank you. Then he's given "the paste that you end up liking even though you didn't before" and in that first short vision he sees this (bold emphasis mine):

Lord Eddard Stark sat upon a rock beside the deep black pool in the gods wood, the pale roots of the heart tree twisting around him like an old man’s gnarled arms.

And after seeing his own father, alive and well in a place he trusted, almost seeming to be held safely in the trees arms (even if they are gnarled :p) when he comes back to the cave he describes the weirwood there VERY differently too (bold emphasis mine):

His father and the black pool and the godswood faded and were gone and he was back in the cavern, the pale thick roots of his weirwood throne cradling his limbs as a mother does a child.

This complete 180° in Brans description suggests the CotF are probably using the paste the exact same way the Undying use shade of the evening when they're trying to trap Dany, and Euron later uses it to try and force Aeron's allegiance. The paste and shade of the evening both seem to open the door to visions - but specifically ones that could help to control or coerce the subject. Dany is aware of the potential for danger and is extremely strong-willed, and Aeron has his iron faith and absolutely nothing left to lose, so they're both able to resist it. But Bran is a very young child who believes he MUST make himself brave enough to be okay with whatever is needed, in order to save the world. So it works. Whatever it is the CotF need to get him on board for, in a universe where magic seems to run at least in part on consent (coerced or not), is one step closer to being achievable. Him and trees are cool now.
Which means that the series of visions he has later while gazing into the fire are very unlikely to be something the CotF intended, because they scare the absolute shit out of him. Which is the exact opposite of what the first one did.
So what's up with that?
How many players are even involved here? If you believe the gods are all separate entities, how is Bran recieving R'hllor style visions even up north inside the warded cave if he's supposed to be the Old Gods mvp? If you're more of a "magic just exists and different people name it different gods" type reader, did whatever magical force exists send the fire visions on purpose, or did Bran maybe steer them himself in some way? Are the CotF underestimating the amount of magic left in the world, and so didn't expect Bran to have any more visions after the first one? Could it even be some kind of double bluff, and him having these scary visions separately (when he'll think they don't know) works in their favour somehow? Either way, what could this tell us about their overall motivations? What might Bran do after having these visions? If they're trapping Bran, did they trap Brynden? Seems like he'd fall for it given how much he likes the idea of having "a thousand eyes". Do they just need to trap humans now because their own population is so low they've run out of their own disabled children to hook up to the weirwood? Is selling the whole "you cannot affect the past" shtick the whole point of the indoctrination, and its not actually true? Should we be separating all of Dany and Aeron's visions into two categories, "under the influence/coercive" and "otheunknown" as well? How could this "coercive" effect have been affecting Eurons motivations/beliefs since he started drinking it 24/7?
These are some of the questions I'm wondering about lol, but if youve got different ones or any other thoughts Id love to hear em
(edit: formatting) (and added another question lol)

Previous Entry
Sometimes I just don’t know how to leave well enough alone. I decided to head out to that town in New Mexico and found a whole lot more than I bargained for. Now I guess it’s time to write about it as Belle snickers at me behind my back as she drives (I can see you sneaking glances at this over my shoulder you know). I won’t admit it to her but running into her was the best part of this whole thing.
It all started with me just walking out of the apartment I was staying in and looking for a bus headed towards New Mexico. Eventually I got lucky and found one but it wasn’t my luck I was surprised by. What surprised me was the familiar face getting off the bus. Belle looked almost exactly the same as she had all those years ago. Sure the clothes were different, maybe she was a bit cleaner after living the high life in D.C. but it was her, I was sure of that. She came running over to greet me as soon as she noticed me starring. Apparently I hadn’t changed that much either.
The meeting was bittersweet, that was my fault though, I was always to quick to business. Turns out she was heading the same way as me but she’d just gotten into town to pick up a rental. She offered me a ride and I accepted, what better way to catch up than a drive out to New Mexico. Along the way she dropped a bomb on me, she didn’t work for Chimera anymore. She was looking into what happened in Cloudcrest, the town we were headed to. It was purely “professional curiosity” as she put it. I think she’s just as interested as I am in something that scared Chimera away.
It was strange seeing Belle again, not bad but… weird. I hadn’t seen her in so long I forgot she existed outside of her letters. It was like she was real only when I read the words on the page. Other than that I hadn’t thought about her much before I started writing in this thing. Just having her there in the car, even when it was just silent, brought me back to those years in Paris. Just her and I against the world. But it wasn’t Paris and so much had changed since those days. Still, it’s nice to have her back in the flesh.
Belle also told me why exactly she’d left Chimera, or more so why she was forced to leave. It actually started with an apology. I’d been trying to avoid the topic and any fights that might come from it but she brought it up and immediately said I was right. I was right about Chimera, of course I was but I didn’t realize exactly how right. They had been keeping tabs on the letters she sent to me. They never used my actual name, not even the J. I normally go by. Even still someone realized who those letters were really going to and started using them to plot my movements around the country. Baelen also followed Belle’s own records back and figured out what she actually was. Afterwards she was offered an ultimatum, lead them to me or be interrogated for any information she knew about me.
Obviously she didn’t like either of those options so she picked up and ran. Why she ran right to the site of Chimera’s most recent failure is up for debate. She’s never been one to take anything laying down especially not blackmail, I get the feeling this is no different. What I really wanted to know was why Baelen is so intent on finding me. He knew who I was, I’d made sure of that on multiple occasions. I’ve also actively spoke out against Chimera to just about any supernatural being who’d listen to me, as if they needed anymore bad press.
What I don’t understand is what he’d gain by finding me. He has access to all the data we ever recorded. Well, anything Frank and Stein didn’t manage to encrypt or delete before they left. If he’s after that why start with me then? Why not just start looking for Frank and Stein, they had to be on some government’s payroll still. Maybe the man’s finally losing it and using me as a scapegoat? I’ll have to keep an ear to the ground though, I don’t like people looking for me without a reason.
We got to Cloudcrest just as the sun was starting to set and the town was a disaster. There were these scorch marks on the pavement where something had left holes. All the buildings we drove past on main street were still standing but only just. Bricks were missing from them and widows were boarded up. One of the houses on the outskirts had most of the roof torn off but the car in the driveway suggested that someone was still using it. The whole looked like something you’d see on television after a tornado struck.
The strangest thing was how few people we saw. There were some buildings with open signs on but I didn’t see anyone in them. There was one or two people on the sidewalks and we were the only car on the road. It was unnerving to see a ghost town so soon after it became one. Belle just parked the car on main street, didn’t even bother locking it.
Despite the state of the town it was still hard to find the kind of evidence we were looking for. I just wanted to get some idea of what did this. I assumed we were looking for a what, not a who. I still do but Belle is convinced it might be both wrapped up into one. Some sort of incredibly powerful supernatural being that can blend in with people isn’t really a comforting thought. She’s got absolutely no evidence to back that up though.
Usually looking around as it was starting to get dark would be a bad idea. But for Belle and I that wasn’t a problem. As we poked around the town we started to see more and more of those holes surrounded by scorch marks on the ground. A lot of the damage was something we ended up chalking up to wind, really really strong wind. It was almost like the most severe thunderstorm I’d ever seen had happened right on-top of a tornado. It really did look like this was all just a case of freak bad weather until we found the feather.
As usual it was Belle who ended up finding something of any real importance. A feather, massive and steel blue that must’ve been at least six feet long. The feather was roughly the size of a person but no bird could be that big, right? It was also pretty hard, not hard like granite but… it’s hard to explain. If you hit it with something you’d feel it bounce back, like the feather was a solid immovable object. But touch the feather and it would feel…. like a normal feather. Maybe it was a little more rigid but it felt largely normal. It was only when you hit it with something that it reacted differently.
Whatever that feather came from had to be the reason Chimera was here. Speaking of Chimera I asked Belle about the official statement they’d given for what happened here. Apparently it was a “geological event” that cut the place off. Not sure that one was going to hold up but apparently thats what they claimed.
Belle and I looked around a little while longer but didn’t really find anything worth writing down here. There was a little mark seared into one of the trees though. It was a bird surrounded by something that might’ve been smoke. There were a few lightning bolts in the design as well. I have to admit, it was an odd find but it didn’t mean anything to me. Could be someone with some metal working skill and too much spare time just made a design and burned it into the nearest tree.
We decided to give up a little while after sunset. We thought it was best not to make ourselves look more suspicious than we already did. After that we went in search of a bar to relax for a bit before we called it a night.. Well as luck would have it thats where the people were. Hopefully they weren’t all that was left of the town.
When we walked in four pairs of eyes scanned over us and my heart dropped. I didn’t recognize the woman with the eagles tattoos in the corner or the purple suited jackass she was talking to. Not sure why I got that feeling about him but anyone in a full purple suit out here is probably bad company. The startled bartender didn’t strike me as anything special either but the last man in the room did. He was dressed in red as usual, this time a red suit and black bowtie that made him look like a valet. His usual red tinted sun glasses sat on his nose obscuring his eyes. And his slicked back black hair made him look a little more modern than usual.
The second I saw him that all to familiar icy feeling shot up my spine. I hadn’t seen that bastard for two years now and I was hoping I was done with him. After all our deal was done, I’d fulfilled my end. Belle paid the man no mind, I’m not even sure if she could see him. I figured I should try and ignore him as well. Belle got us drinks, long island ice teas, an apparent favorite of her’s and we took a table next to the tattooed woman.
I’ve had to snoop more than once during my time at the BSA so eavesdropping from a table over was second nature to me. The man in the purple suit and the tattooed woman were arguing about something, the terms of some reward by the sounds of it. She was trying to whisk him away somewhere, I didn’t catch the place’s name, only that is was up in New York. I was trying to listen in to exactly what she was offering the guy when a name I hadn’t heard in a while crossed his lips, “Bianca”. After that it was hard to focus, I hadn’t seen her in years but there wasn’t a day she wasn’t in my thoughts at least once.
I must’ve been staring after that distraction and when I snapped back to reality the tattooed woman was staring me right in the eyes. Her eyes were… imposing, that powerful stormy grey couldn’t be natural. I couldn’t help but to feel just a little threatened by her gaze. Something about it told me I did not want to mess with her so I turned back to my drink. Belle and I talked for a bit until the man in red tapped my shoulder with a single gloved finger. As I slowly turned to him he didn’t make a sound and I realized with surprise that nothing else was making any noise either. Everything and everyone around me had slowed to a crawl. The man didn’t say a word, just handed a blue jewel incrusted dagger to me and walked out, grinning the whole time.
My body was on autopilot, I just took the dagger and started as the man in red walked out. As soon as he was out of sight everything returned to normal. Belle said she didn’t see anything when I asked, even said she only saw three other people in the bar. We left after that, I didn’t want to hang around anymore.
The dagger and that name stopped me cold, I was going to be just about useless for the rest of the night. The dagger was just something I lifted from an Egyptian museum on vacation once. Nothing really special but I wanted a souvenir and it looked interesting enough. Eventually that dagger would be a gift to my daughter. That’s where the other name that had me so distracted comes in, my daughter's name, Bianca.
I never thought I’d be the family type, especially considering that I really was content to just wander on my own. When I met Caroline all that changed though. It was a few years after I’d left the BSA, I was walking down a street in Chicago when a car pulled over. The driver Caroline, asked for directions and when I saw an opportunity for a ride I took it. I offered to give her directions to wherever it was she was going as long as I could hitch a ride. I’m not sure what made her agree. By all accounts letting a stranger into your car in Chicago is a horrible idea but she went with it. I don’t remember where exactly it was she wanted directions to, we never did get there anyways.
The two of us fell for each other, both free spirits just kind of floating around the states with the breeze. She’d owned a law firm at one point but gave it up for much the same reasons as I’d left the BSA, it just wasn’t the company she remembered. Our little adventures across the country were the highlights of my life so far and probably will be forever. I don’t think I’ve got the time to write about them here but maybe I should someday.
The one moment that sticks with me more than the rest is when I told her what I was. At that point quite a few people I’d worked with in the past had figured it out. The whole BSA knew exactly what I was and no one really batted an eye at it. All that is a longwinded way of saying I wasn’t hiding what I was nearly as much anymore. Still Caroline had no idea, no suspicion but didn’t even react when I told her. It was another thing I admired about her, she could just accept something like that and never let it bother her.
Anyway it wasn’t too long before we’d settled down on a farm in Wyoming. Marsh was the best man at my wedding, even Frank and Stein made it out. That was actually the last time I saw Marsh before the cancer took him, really one of the last good memories I had of him. Caroline and I lived on that farm for the next 3 years before everything went to hell.
It was nothing to do with us but rather what we were trying to do. We had been trying for children, we wanted to start a real family here. The night we finally did was the night I lost control. I had dreams that night, dreams of my deal with the man in red. When Caroline rolled me over that night to… try again, I wasn’t really myself. I can’t describe it, it was like I was watching myself while I wasn’t myself but I still felt… everything. Once it was all over I saw the man in red again, his gaseous form flowing out of my body and materializing in the corner. He looked up to where some part of me had been observing from the ceiling and nodded with a smile before he disappeared and my vision went dark.
After that things were never quite the same. Caroline found out she was pregnant and I was more scared then I’d ever been. Both because of the circumstances of the baby’s conception and the general fear that comes with being a first time parent. When it came time to name the baby Caroline decided on Bianca. The day she was born we all thought we’d lost Caroline. She did lose a lot of blood but she’s always been a fighter, she pulled through just like I knew she would. But I couldn’t be around Bianca, I was constantly reminded of that horrible night and the man in red. I swore I could hear him laughing way off in the distance every time I stared into her blue eyes.
I was a coward, I always was but this is another one of those times that really sticks out to me. I left them, I left my wife and my daughter because of bad memories and what might happen. Instead of being there to help, seeing exactly what the deal I made meant for Bianca, I walked out. I’ve tried to bring myself to go back, to talk to Caroline and tell her why but I can’t. Even if I did find it in me to go back things would never be the same. There aren’t words to make anyone forgive a father who walks out on his family like I did. I’d never expect either of them to forgive me in the first place.
A year or two ago I actually saw her, Bianca. Kind of hard to miss with her eyes glowing like they were. She was all grown up, didn’t even recognize me but she looked like she’d had it rough. We sat and talked for a bit on the step of some dingy apartment building in Nevada for hours. We didn’t actually talk about a whole lot, just the weather, how her day was, and what was going on in her life. She was a little guarded but it was so nice to just sit and talk with her after all that time. It made me wonder what it would’ve been like if I had stayed to raise her. Thinking about that still makes me tear up. I gave her that jeweled dagger before I left, it was a kind of parting gift. I hoped she could sell it and live a better life, the thing had to be worth a small fortune after all.
She never did as far as I know though. Something like that being found and sold somewhere might make the news, especially since it was taken from a museum. Maybe she realized who I was after all and held onto it. Not sure if that would be better or worse than just remembering me as someone who walked out of her life before she even knew me though.
That’s why I was so defenseless as we left the bar. There was just so many things I still torture myself with that were thrown back at me out of the blue. I’m glad Belle just decided to leave. I guess she could tell something was bothering me. I’m sure she could tell when I started writing this, never was all that good at putting pen to paper and it was definitely out of character.
That dagger the man in red gave me was a fake, the thing just disintegrated in my hands as we drove. I guess that means he didn’t take it from my daughter but why did he give it me in the first place? It’s all too much to think about right now, yet another reason why I’m writing about everything here.
I’ve actually started to enjoy keeping this little thing. Maybe I don’t do it quite right and I just go on and on about the past but its nice. I finally have something to tell my stories to, even if it is just a bit of processed tree. Anyways I should probably finish this up before Belle gets too antsy (I know your still peeking at this, eyes on the road). I should ask if she wants to stick around once we get… wherever it is she’s decided we’re going now. She’ll need someplace to lie low away from Chimera and I have just the place in mind.