u/AScruffyHamster

Yeah, kinda shot yourself in the foot OP, and your first reaction is to blame someone else after an ultimatum. Gonna have to change your name to Anakin if you keep focusing on that hate.

Hey all, normally I don't edit my stories, but I made some egregious errors and swapped the main character and the doctor's names. I do all of this on mobile so I expect autocorrect to mess with me but this time it was really bad. Sorry

I continued to run yesterdays events in my head. A demon had been trying to drown some girls by the river near the Academy. I had been on my lunch break and had been running to the local material store to grab more things for my spells compulsions when I heard the screaming. It was near the bridge when saw it. An actual demon...

I sighed as I laid on my assigned bed in the med ward of the Academy. The room itself was magically sealed, the air practically hummed with power. To the left of my bed was a shelf filled with hundreds of different items. The far side had a full length mirror that I could barely see through the shimmer. The lights were turned off so I could get some rest, which was impossible, but the barrier didn't expand far enough so I could turn the lights back on.

Which was to be expected, I thought, the size of the spell I had cast yesterday should have killed me. I had been terrified afterwards, it wasn't uncommon for someone to explode, or to turn into something else entirely from the feedback of a powerful spell. I looked at the shelf again, not a single urge to any of the items. Delayed feedback does happen in rare events, so it made sense they have the ward up in case I went kaboom. That spell though... Blue flames blossoming from my finger tips into the carapace of that thing. The smell of ozone and the waves of heat burning me. Why did I cast that spell? How did I cast that spell? It wasn't one I had been taught at the Academy.

Normally you need to have spells on standby where the known side effects are already anticipated. The side effects, commonly called Compulsions, were forced on a caster as a spells feedback from invoking the spell from the Otherside. Take the most common spell taught at the Academy, as an example, the simple counter-spell. Disrupt an opponents spell and amplify the feedback from the casting. Each persons feedback is different. A friend of mine had to eat a literal crayon after casting counter-spell. However, when he was being counter-spelled the feedback amplification compelled him to eat twelve. For me, I had to clap my hands loudly and with force, four times. Amplified, I had to clap twenty-two times, enough my skin felt raw afterwards. But that same friend, when using a light spell, had to pinch himself hard.

Each spell had different feedback unique to each person. A counterbalance they called it, a give and take from calling on powers from the spirtual realm, or the Otherside, and applying them to the physical. However, if you chose not to apply the compulsion, the feedback would increase steadily until either you gave in. Or, the demand from the Otherside would grow strong enough to turn you into a portal for something else to balance. Usually you exploded with pure magical power that surged through. If you were unfortunate though, you became a meat suit for something else, like that demon.

My mind wondered back some more. I stretched and placed my hands under my head. What the hell had that been? It looked like a beetle had erupted from inside a guy, his skin had hung tattered around his waist like a cloak. It's head had been an orifice of teeth and rows of delighted eyes. Thick, viscous black drool had been pooling down its chitinous throat and neck. I shuddered at the memory. When I first saw it, I didn't know why it looked like that, why it hadn't simply eaten them. But I had time to think, and I have a good idea why, and I wish I didn't. It had savored the torture, it was feasting on their screams.

I shifted, uncomfortable at the thought. Well that, and my back was itching against the cheap woolen blankets the hospital provided. Seriously, how could they make these things that itchy?

The light clicked on. It shimmered through the barrier as though filtered through water. I grimaced in surprise and raised my hands to block the surprisingly bright source from burning out my retinas.

"Hey!" I closed my eyes tightly, I didn't remember it being that bright before. "Could you knock next time? That shits bright you know."

"It appears you haven't exploded Mr. Graves." The doctor chuckled. "And next time we'll be sure to do that, I was a young man once too and we wouldn't want to intrude on anything."

Ugh. Gross. My face must have matched my thoughts as the doctor laughed again.

"Uh, anyway, when will I be going home?" I asked sitting up. "I've got a test tomorrow that I really need to study for." The doctor standing in the doorway was younger than he sounded. Dr. Gregory Withers was on his name tag.

"Doctor.... Withers?" I asked, what a weird name. "Why am I still here? Most people are either dust or turn into something by now."

"You are correct Mr. Graves." Dr. Withers said, and raised his hand. The fluid barrier dissipated in a smoky haze. "I'm surprised you could read my name from there, especially through a barrier."

Huh. He's right, the words have been distorted through the it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"Uh, I thought the ward was a smoking-free zone?" I asked.

"Oh, it is." Dr. Withers grabbed a cigarette and popped it in his mouth, chewing it like a piece of candy.

Oh, that sucks, I thought, that must be his compulsion. Dr. Withers grimaced as he chewed quickly and swallowed. He reached into his other pocket and brought up a fruit pouch, punched the straw in and sucked in the fluid greedily.

"Ugh, that never gets easier." He tossed the fruit pouch into the trash bin and pulled out a second, which he drank just as quickly as the first. "Ah, that's better." He tossed the second one as well and then straightened up his tie.

"We recommend that people in your situation to remain here for at least forty-eight hours before being released. You're halfway there." Dr. Withers said smiling, ignoring the look of disgust and pity that must still be in my face. "After that spell you cast, the feedback must have been enormous." He eyed me up and down. "Yet, despite that risk, you did save those two girls."

"Oh, they're going to be ok?" I had hoped so.

"Yes, both of them are already resting at home." He took a step forward and eyed me up and down again.

"Well that's good," I sighed with relief, "but why do I have to stay longer? I'm fine." My back continued to itch, slowly becoming a silent agony instead of just annoyance. I scratched at it.

"Well Mr. Graves. Oh, I apologize, should I call you Kyle?" He asked, I nodded. "Very well, Kyle, given that you haven't had a complusion from that spell, we fear that the Otherside may force a balance through you, given everything, we think it best to make sure." I nodded as I scratched.

"It's a good thing we chose to." He said looking at me. He brought up a small flashlight. The intensity made me flinch. "If you can, please look." I followed his instructions, and several other quick tests.

"Well, the good news is that there still aren't any signs of concussion." Dr. Withers smiled.

"Ugh, my head feels like it has one now." I said rubbing my eyes. My back was becoming intolerable.

"You appear uncomfortable Kyle, what's wrong?"

"My back is itching like crazy, it's starting to hurt." I was using both hands now to scratch vigorously.

"Ah, I wonder if that's your compulsion finally setting in. Oh, wait a moment. It looks like you dropped someth-" Dr. Withers reached down and paused as he picked up whatever it was off the floor. "Oh. Interesting. Kyle, go ahead and take off your shirt."

I didn't need to be told twice. I pulled my shirt overhead and felt a sensation of a million needles suddenly depress out of my back. The itching remained, but was nowhere near as bad. I kept my eyes closed in relief.

"Well then, I think we can safely say that you won't be exploding anytime soon." Dr. Withers said confidently.

"Oh, how can you be so sure? I haven't felt a compulsion besides the... Wait, is it the itching? Because I'd rather eat a cigarette than deal with that shit again. No offense." The cool air felt so good on my back and neck now.

"Well actually..."

I opened my eyes. Dr. Withers was holding up what had fallen. And it looked like... A feather?!

"What." I got up and ran to the mirror. Feathers. I had feathers beginning to sprout out of my neck and back. Each were shimmering with azure light. Oh what in the hells hap- a detail stopped my thoughts for what felt like an eternity. My eyes. My eyes were wide, wider than normal, and they weren't human. They looked... Like an owls?!

"It appears that you are now fledging."

April came running down the stairs, giddy with excitement. I had been snooping through her stuff again, and she, quite frankly, had had enough. So in the wee early hours of the morning, she had called her two friends, Rebecca and Jing, and began their spell over a group call. A salamanders head, tail of a newt, a sprig of daffodil, and a splash of diet coke, for a cleaner conscience of course.

Once everything had been assembled in her cauldron, Rebecca and Jing began their encantation from their ends. They chanted while April envisioned the target, me. At least until Rebecca's and Jings parents interrupted them and told them to go to bed. Jings mom stayed an additional ten minutes to lecture her and April in Chinese before Jing ended the call.

April had felt a small sensation in her mind, like a spider's web being dragged across her scalp. The spell was a success. She was too excited to go to sleep. If he liked to snoop so much, she thought as she smiled, let him see everything he could want and more.

She had butterflies in her stomach as she rounded the hallway to the kitchen to see me standing there. Arms crossed, and my eyes closed. I didn't have to put any effort into my scowl.

"You're -" she began to say

"up early?" I finished. She paused.

Well that's- she began thinking.

"Weird?" I growled out. She took a step back. "That's not possible?" I asked mockingly to her shocked expression. "How am I doing this?" The color drained from her face. "You haven't said a -"

"OK!" She hissed loudly. "I get it, you can read my mind."

"Oh, were it that simple sis." I turned around and exposed the huge gleaming azure eye nestled in the back of my head. April gasped, that's not what-

"You wanted? Well no shit, Sherlock." I could feel my teeth grinding. "Do you know how hard it was to get dressed when I could see the lives of the people who made my clothes?" I took a step toward her. "And let me tell you, the guy who made my boxers was a creep."

April opened her mouth to say something.

"Oh, you're sorry?!" I took another step. "I see everything. Everything. Oh, you and your little 'coven'. " I said finger quoting. "Yeah, saw all that too. All of it." April could no longer look me in the eye.

"I can barely stand right now, because if I open my eyes I start seeing the past again. Like with you and your friends casting their little spell on me. And with a diet coke? Really? For a cleaner conscience?" I vented. "And my hair keeps poking this thing." I spat, thumbing in the direction of my knew eye. "It hurts. There's constantly a hair in my eye April. Constantly."

April started to feel bad but then remembered why she had cast the spell.

"Oh, I deserve this because I was looking through your stuff?!" I shouted. "No, you be quiet, I don't care if mom hears this. You cursed me because I was trying to find my Amazon packages that you. Keep. Taking."

April started to feel the first horrendous bloom of embarrassment. And maybe shame.

"Good." I uncrossed my arms. "I hope you burn with it. Now fix me. And yes you know how to, so call up your friends and undo this. No, you don't have to wait for the 'witching hour' you can do it at any time you moron." I could hear footsteps down the hallway. "I know this because I saw you reading the book. You just like to skip to the end to cast and craft, you keep missing the disclaimer at the beginning. Why do you think the neighbors cat disappeared? It was a permanent invisibility spell you dolt."

Our mom walked around the corner. She still had her alchemical equipment on, goggles and all.

"Mom, April cursed me."

"Wait, I didn't c-" April tried to speak.

"She cursed me with true sight and she's been stealing your ingredients for months, it hasn't been rats. Well, actually, yes it was rats. She's the rat."

"Hey!" April exclaimed hurtfully. Our mom just lifted up her goggles and looked at both April and myself. Aside from where the goggles covered, everything else was covered in soot.

"April. We've talked about this." Mom said more annoyed than anything. "And Aaron, I'm sure you can wait until Dad gets home to fix this."

"Nope, this gets fixed now." I crossed my arms again. "I can literally see everything and I will not go to school with a giant blue eye on the back of my head. My hair keeps poking it."

"One day won't hurt. It's a magical structure so I'm sure you're imagining the pain." Mom began taking off her gloves. "April, go upstairs and get ready for school, help your brother get his things together. True sight is not a fun experience the first time."

Anger began to boil in me.

"Mom. I know why you and Dad had to repair the kitchen table three times." Mom froze. "And trust me, I did not want to see that."

"Ok, change of plans April." Mom quickly turned back to her lab. "Call up Aunt Rita and have her meet us here."

"But mom-".

"Now April. Aaron doesn't just have true sight. You also cursed him with retrocognition. And as soon as we're done fixing him you're going to give me your cauldron."

"You're grounding me?!" April looked appalled.

"What's the number one rule of the house April?" Mom asked, raising her eyebrows.

April didn't speak, just pursed her lips.

"No cursing. Now go upstairs and do what I asked. We can talk about the consequences once Aunt Rita is here."

"Argh!" April screamed dramatically as she stomped upstairs. "This place sucks!"

"Aaron, honey." My mom looked worried. "Please try not to touch anything else in the kitchen or living room ok?"

"You're entering a tavern." The gruff looking barkeep growled out. He pointed to a sign by the entrance. "See there. No weapons, second one down, no magic, and that last one is a favorite of mine, no magical beasts or entities."

My body moved my pommel towards the sign, sure enough, that last one was added recently.

"I'm known to the establishment." My extremely expensive mannequins mouth clacked open and closed with my words. "If you'd kindly ask -"

"No weapons, no magic, and no magical beasts or entities." He growled out with finality. He glared at me, or well, my mannequin, briefly before returning to cleaning the tankards in front of him.

"But you allowed Kinsey through?" I asked, my azure orb in my pommel flared, peering just over the new barkeep's shoulder.

"Hey, don't bring me into this." Kinsley stated, leaning back in his stool with ale in hand.

"But you're a magical beast." I stated.

"Am not." He took a swig.

"You're a werewolf." It was common knowledge.

"But not right now therefore, non-magical." He took another swig and leaned forward. "And, I can drink ale."

"And he tips." The new barkeep's said without looking up from his task. "Thus, non-magical."

"But I can also tip." I said, my pommel flaring with my increasing annoyance. It gave the barkeep pause, but then he went back to his task at hand.

"Look, could you please just get Jessica?" My mannequin crossed its arms with clacking and groaning. "We have business to att-"

"No."

I felt my anger grow, my pommel growing a bright violet. Kinsey's eyes widened in the back.

"Uh, barkeep, maybe you should get Jessica." He set his tankard down and stood slowly. "I know what happens if she turns red." The barkeep stopped cleaning the already cleaned tankards and turned to Kinsey.

"I may be starting to think you're magical their friend." Barkeep growled.

"Look, I get teasing Crystal is fun, and no offense is given, but this is taking it too far." Kinsey was starting to walk backwards to the rear exit. "Look, I scribbled in that last rule as a joke alright."

"Rules are ru-" the barkeep began. "Wait, you defiled the rules with your filthy paws?"

"Well now, that's hurtful." Kinsey stopped walking backwards. "Look, it was a prank, we had our laughs, just please go get Jessica before Crystal turns this place into another Allessian Gorge."

Metaphorical pins dropped. Silence. The barkeep paused. I could feel the mana boiling in me slowlying turning the violet red. The barkeep turned toward me.

"Ah, you're that magical sword. Jessica's upstairs."

What.

"Wait, you were expecting me?!" I shouted, the reverberations causing the windows to quiver.

"Master Almon said to expect a powerful sword to come in."

"But what of your rules?" I growled, which came out as more of a drowning gurgling sound.

"Could have been any 'ole magical sword or entity." The barkeep shrugged. Kinsey ran out the backdoor as I screamed.

"Uh. What?" The words were not meant to leave my mouth.

"Your parents," the Great Destroyer, the Breaker of Flames, the Bringer of Floods and Storms, the God of Destruction asked gently. "where are they?"

To say I was taken aback is to put it mildly. I was being held high off the ground, nestled into the soft prismatic arms of Baal'ra, the One Who Eats the Heavens. And yet... Wait. Soft arms?

"I see, my appearance has frightened you, a moment." Baal'ra leaned forward and gently lowered me to the ground. Once my feet were planted firmly Baal'ra stood tall. He was a towering twenty feet off the ground. He was made of what appeared to be fractures of light, as though shards of glass were formed to shape a body high in the air. Baal'ra raised his arms up high and emitted a blinding bright blue light. The light did not hurt. In fact, as bright as it was, it soothed my aching eyes and joints. The wounds I had inflicted on my arms to finish the awakening ceremony healed up.

Wait. Why am I being healed? I shouldn't even be breathing right now. I should be ash floating in ruin. As I looked around I could see life growing in this once decrepit tomb. A million thoughts began to race through my mind, blinding me to Baal'ra, who had finished transforming from this terrible deity to a simple white and gold robed man.

Baal'ra placed his hand on my shoulder causing my train of thought to derail, I'm pretty sure the passengers were screaming , I know I was.

"Calm yourself child." Baal'ra's words were even more soothing. I took a breath, and stepped back. Baal'ra was similar to my own height, had long dark brown hair and a well trimmed beard. He eyes glowed and had thick eyebrows that - wait. He looked exactly like me! Well, minus the glowing eyes.

"Yes child," he said smiling slightly. "I did not have another reference to use, so I borrowed yours in the meanwhile."

I was not aware I looked that good in white and gold. Go figure.

"White and gold are the colors of purity and faith. I am certain they would do you justice as devout as you are to my cause."

I hadn't said anything.

"You don't need to. I am aware of all that is around me, thoughts included." Baal'ra's eyes looked at me in such a sadness that I felt my own heart break.

Oh. Oh no.

"Yes, even those thoughts Richard, son of Lucy and Mark." He motioned towards the floor. Fractures of light appeared on the floor and spiraled together, eventually forming something that looked stable to sit on. "Have a seat, we have much to talk about."

---

"You have had a very difficult life Richard. You have experienced much, and often in the worse way. I can understand why you wished to bring about the end of all things." Baal'ra leaned forward on the light-chair. "However, no matter how much you have suffered, it does not warrant the death of every thing to ease your pain. That's incredibly selfish."

"Yeah... I'm sorry." I had nothing else to say. We've been taking for what felt like days, with breaks once my voice started to become tired. Baal'ra could conjure this rejuvenating light and I would feel refreshed and whole again.

"I know you speak truth." Baal'ra gave a warm smile. "It is good to speak of such things, even a moment can ease your burdens and light the way forward from the darkness that lies within." He stood up and looked at the inscriptions on the walls. "However, I do believe I understand why you thought I was the God of Destruction."

"You're not?!" Another surprise.

"No, dear child. If I had been, you would have been naught but the ruin you sought." Baal'ra said matter-of-factly. "My name is also not Baal'ra, nor is it Baal, or Ra. It is none of those."

"I'm sorry, but all the texts said..." I began.

"Your texts are also wrong." Not-Baal'ra said.

I spent thousands locating the texts. Thousands. And they were all fake. Of course they would be. My thoughts began to roll forward again, quickly gaining steam.

"Richard. You're doing it again."

"Ah, sorry."

"It is persistence that I love most from you mortals." Not-Ball'ra smiled again. "However, it has also been your undoing. Remember, the thoughts can be guided by action and will. Think of the act, and will it forward. The negative thoughts will drag you down otherwise."

Despite the days we've spent talking, I still hadn't expected that the God of Destruction would be a decent therapist.

"I do not know what that word means, but I can sense the positivity in the thought," Not-Baal'ra said, "And my name is also not Not-Baal'ra, clever as it may be."

Silent thoughts. Silent thoughts. The god- -who-is-not-named-Baal'ra smiled, chuckled, and then smiled again.

"It would appear that I have fallen under a prank." He touched the inscriptions, his finger tips leaving fractured light dancing light behind as he traced the carved words. "My name, as was called by your ancestors, was Phanes, God of Light. I am not Baal, nor am I Ra, although we would often compete to see who had the best poetry."

"You had poetry competitions with the God of the Sun?" I asked while still trying to will my train of thought to slow down.

"Ah, good Richard, an action and will." Phanes smiled brightly. "Yes, and he does exist, and no, I do not know what rapping is but it sounds interesting." I felt my will slipping at Phanes and a bird headed Sun God belting out 'Slim Shady'.

"As to your previous question, I doubt those previous texts as you call them, were fake. It would appear that the changes made were done a millenia ago, and those changes were inscribed going forward." Phanes paused, and muttered something angrily under his breath. That was the first negative thing I heard Phanes- oh. Phanes turned and gave me a look. Right.

"As I was saying, I believe I know who changed the inscriptions. I believe the common name of this diety was 'Loki'."

"You're kidding." Loki was real?

"And it would appear he added many of the names to make me fearsome. I cannot abide by such nonsense." Phanes growled, prisms of light began to angrily fracture around his eyes. "And I fear his prank could explain why your world has fallen to decay. Someone may have attempted to awaken me... and may have awakened something else instead."

"Aren't we in your cradle of power?" I asked. "Could you not use your power and change things?"

Phanes looked up at the cracked, but smooth temple ceiling.

"I do not recognize this place. I cannot feel it either, as this temple was meant for this 'Baal'ra' that you had long sought. This would explain why my strength has diminished considerably.

"But why were you sealed here?" I was growing confused again.

"I wasn't. Nor is this a cradle of power. We gods reside in our cradles of power, realms that exist outside of this material realm. The temples are our conduits, we are able to visit this realm only through them, and from their prayers we gain strength." Phanes looked at me directly. "As you were devout to this 'Baal'ra' I was able to tap into its power using you as the conduit. You prayed to me with my false name, but as it is false and I do not recognize it, I am limited in my strength."

"Couldn't we get you to your temple? Surely there are still those that worship you?"

"My temple was at the mountain Vesuvius, where a city was erected nearby so that my worshippers could gain access to my boons." Phanes walked to the other side of the room. "Given that only your devotion was able to stir me, I doubt there are many of my followers left, if at all."

Visuvius... Sounded familiar.

"What was the name of the city that your worshippers built?" I asked

"Pompeii."

My gut ran cold. Phanes froze as my train of thought jumped tracks and veered into the destruction that was Pompeii.

"I see." A deep sadness emanated from Phanes. "I was curious as to why it had taken so long for someone to pray to me. I thought it a dream, but it appears my nemesis has dealt me a death-blow.

Your nemesis? The god of d- Phanes had a nemesis?

"Yes, Richard." Phanes smiled weakly. "Not all gods are amenable to each other. There are those who detest each other for simply being against their own nature. As I am of light and the beginning, then one who is the end would surely despise me."

Phanes walked toward me and returned to his overwhelming size.

"I fear for what was brought forward, for if I'm correct, then we will need to act quickly."

"Wait, me? But i barely found you, how can I-" I began but was quickly silenced by Phanes kneeling down to me, so that his kaleidoscope of a face was as close to mine as possible.

"Richard, of the billions of people on this planet, you are the sole person to have sought me out, learn the incantations, and properly summon me despite Loki's antics. We will need that skill and dedication if we are to stop them."

Them?

"Yes, Richard." Phanes said gravely, the seriousness frightening me. "There was one whom other gods feared, long since banished to the long night. He sought destruction, but was subtle. And patient with his plans. This is who my nemesis is, and by now, he is surely working with others to achieve his goal."

Before I could ask Phanes was already enveloping me in light. Crackling prisms began to swirl around us, the ground under our feet glowed as the prisms sped up.

"We will need to speak with Hecate, and determine if she can help us locate her father."

I barely got a thought out as the light fully enveloped my body. Her father?

"Perses, the Titan of Destruction."

"Why, if it isn't Henry Willow!" Came a voice behind me. Shit. I had been scavenging through a dessicated car pile that had ended up in someone's once-upon-a-time swimming pool. I was hunched over the trunk of maybe an Accord? Tough to say after the fallout and exposure here. I stood up slowly and turned, my left hand hovering near my belt, where my knife was hidden.

"I knew it was you!" A rich southern drawl accented the older man, who stooped forward on one knee, peering into the wreck-filled pool. An old, patched, leather hat was tilted up on his pink, puffy face. A larger man, something hard to find in these times, dressed in simple overalls and mismatched boots. His hands and leg shook a bit.

"Pardon?" I asked. How in the hell did someone recognize me with that name out here?

"Oh, don't be foolin' about Mr. Willow, I ain't gonna bite." He chuckled. "Of course I'd recognize you, why you were my favorite actor when I was a child!"

Ah. Well that made sense, I had been down on my luck before the Final War began. Ironically, I ended up being picked up off the street to play a quick role for a children's show, and became a household name practically over night.

"A Day at Mr. Willows was a favorite of ours, that's for sure." He continued. "Especially the episode where you had that neighbor who kept stealing your packages? Good stuff!" The old man froze for a moment. "Oh, but where are my manners? I'm Bobby Green, but folks out here just call me Bobby!"

Ah, there were more people in the area, I had chosen poorly it seemed.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Bobby Green, bu-" I began

"Please Mr. Willow, you can call me Bobby."

"Ah, Bobby," I continued, shuffling around to face him. Bobby's eye twinkled. "But I do believe you have me mixed up with someone I am not. You see, Henry Willow was my grandfather."

A change of demeanor flickered across Bobby's face.

"Why Mr. Willow, you don't have to lie to me." He reached his shaking hand out to me. It gave me pause, most folks tried to eat me out here, it was an oddity to be offered kindness for a change. Well, it's not like he could kill me.

I grabbed his hand.

---

"So what brings you out to these parts Mr. Willow?" Sarah asked. Bobby had taken me back to the settlement that was nestled between the hills a few mile northeast of the pool. A group of around fifteen people were making their living here. On the way in there was an abundance of clothed scattered about. Sarah was the daughter of Bobby, who had turned out to also be the mayor of the town. Which explained why he was so large.

"I'm just trying to get my bearings through the area." I said glancing around at the influx of folk who were looking at me excitedly. Too excitedly. "I figured I could find some scrap or two in those cars when your dad surprised me." The people around laughed. It sounded... forced. I glanced at the others at the table, aside from Bobby who sat at the head, and Sarah who sat beside him, there were seven others, all with eyes staring at me hungrily. Several of them shook slightly. A slight tremot, but it was there.

"Well all that's fine and well Mr. Willow." Bobby said leaning forward, "but I do believe one of your stories would do us all well."

"I couldn't, I'm not skilled at it like my grandfather was." I tried to scoot back but the large man on my right placed a firm, but shaking, hand on my shoulder. A quick glance at Bobby showed the same dark expression from earlier.

"I would encourage you to stop lying Mr. Willow. You see, we have a generator we got working and watch your show each Sunday." Bobby said with almost reverence. "And we're all privy to that secret of yours, about that bunker out here in the foothills."

Well shit. I had forgotten about that interview, it also didn't help I did it drunk and word got around about my doomsday bunker in Utah. It had stirred up a hornets nest back then, something about doomsday prepping etc, but I knew what was coming and planned accordingly. If only I had kept my mouth shut.

"Well it's too bad that I'm not my grandpa, I just happened to be -" I began, but was interrupted again.

"Mr. Willow. I don't take kindly to being lied to. And you've gone and lied to my face three times now. I don't tolerate that, 'specially round here." Bobby leaned forward, crossing his shaking hands and holding them under his jowls. His friendly demeanor was gone.

"You see Mr. Willow," he spoke with anal annoyed time "I know that it's you. And before you lie to me again, I met you in person. I have that photograph up on the wall in my room to this day. And you know what?" He asked in a tone that screamed he knew something. I felt my stomach drop.

"What?" I asked, keenly aware of the people huddling closer to me.

"You have unique scars on your head." He said, his eyes glaring at me. "Something that a child wouldn't inherit."

Oh. Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit. He knew. He knew I was immortal. Oh, I was going to be eaten, and I could feed them for generations after I regenerated. They might get sick at first, but I'm sure they would adapt. All they had to do was I overwhelm me and bind me and I would be no better than a skewered pig. The thoughts kept running through my head, panic swelling in my throat so fiercely I could taste it.

"That bunker must have some good stuff to keep you lookin' so young." Bobby said with such confidence that the others looked at each other grinning.

What?

It became so silent you could hear a pin drop. It took a few moments for the look of shock to leave my face. I could see the gloat in Bobby's eyes. That's what he thought my secret was. Relief flooded through my system. The scars covering my body soothed as the tension left my body. There was my chance.

"Oh." I finally said. "Well, see here, there's enough for everyone in that bunker. And I'll take you all there! Gladly!" The tone of the room changed, the greed was apparent. And that was the one thing I hated, something I had learned to despise from my father.

"See friend," Bobby said as aa smile wide across his chubby face, "I told you that you didn't have to lie to me." The others murmured with excitement.

"Tell me something though," I asked, looking around at everyone.

"Of course." Bobby laughed.

"I noticed a lot of clothing outside. A lot of children's clothing." The laughing stopped. "And yet I don't see, nor hear any children. Why is that?" A quick glance around the room showed hardened faces. Hungry faces.

"You must have been doing this for a while, to be shaking so much" I said, my hand going to my father's knife, my knife.

"And you know this how?" Bobby said standing up, the others standing with him.

"My father was something of a scientist." I said eyeing each person. "It's called Prion Disease. It occurs when consuming human flesh."

"Don't think we won't kill you." The man on my left said, revealing a gun in his other hand. The others began revealing weapons as well. "Just show us the way to your bunker, and we can go our separate ways in peace." The clothes flashed in my head again. To hell with it, they can't overwhelm me if I get them first.

"Funny thing that." Before the man on my left could react I drew and sank the knife deep into his chest, blade splitting flesh and bone easily with my strength. Everyone froze at the sudden violence. I stared at Bobby's shocked face, and pulled the knife free from his thug, the light glinted on my father's name engraved on the blade. Viktor Frankenstein.

"It's more of a lab."

"What do you mean, 'What preparations'?" Mark asked sternly. I was standing in my front yard watching all of my new neighbors scramble around, children grabbing blankets and other light things while the men and woman were quickly grabbing heavier things from their vehicles. Mark was holding a small crate filled with ammunition boxes.

"I mean, what preparations Mark?" I asked, the concern in my voice growing. Mark eyed me sharply, and then groaned.

"You didn't read the fine print did you?" He said, handing the crate over to his wife, Laura, who deeply sighed at what he asked me.

"Oh not another one." Laura muttered as she carried the supplies into their house.

Mark put his hand in my shoulder. "You really needed to read that Harry."

"I read some of it, but then it stated that there were rabbits in the area, which I don't know why you'd have that in legal print."

"No Harry," Mark said with seriousness I'm his voice. "Not there were rabbits. They're Wererabbits."

What? I thought. "What?" I asked.

"Look, I get it. You found a house and an excellent price that was in the market for a long time. You even asked me what was the catch when you bumped into me with the realtor." Huh. I was wondering why a house this perfect was going for under $100'000, especially in this market. A crash came from up the street and the amount of guns that appeared in my neighbors hands stunned me.

A child had dropped a box of what were... Horseshoes? Several people laughed and they all put their weapons away.

"Harry, you need to focus." Mark said patting my shoulder heavily. "Tonight the Wererabbits come. You'll need to have iron on hand in case the fae get involved."

My mouth failed to process what my mind was trying to comprehend. The other families on the street were finishing up. I looked around and saw the Ortiz's. They were my other neighbors but I hadn't introduced myself to them yet, there were also the Oswald's across from me, and a dozen more families down this stretch. There was more sound coming in a static murmur.

"Harry?" The sound was Mark.

"I'm sorry, the Fae?" I asked. I could tell Mark's patience was wearing thin.

"Ok. How would you not read the fine print? It's literally part of the blood contract before you sign the documents! You didn't think to question why they needed some of your blood?"

"Well, I've never owned a house before."

"And you thought that was normal?!" Laura shouted as she carried another box into their house.

"Uh... I mean..." I stuttered.

"Harry. Do you have anything to defend yourself with?"

"Uh.. I'm still unpacking things..." Was all I could say. I barely had my computer up and running, my router was still in its box.

"Shit. Ok. Tonight you'll be staying with us. Laura?" He called out. Laura's head popped around their front door. "He'll be with us tonight!" I could hear her swearing.

"He better know how to shoot! We're not having another incident like with the Michaels!"

"The Michaels?" I look at Mark confused.

"We... Can talk about that one later. Here, grab those spools of barbwire, we'll need to fortify the windows. But we'll need to annoint the wiring with some blessed salt." The look I gave him made him sigh. "Right. Fine print. It's for the vampire spirits."

Mobile Automated Refuse Collector

I held my breath as the rumbling drew near. Metal grating against brick walls caused a sound that made me to grit my teeth. The squeal of steel drew goosebumps up and down my arms, and the back of my neck. All I could do was huddle as close to the floor as possible, dirty uniforms littered the ground around me. The uniform hampers were the only things standing between me and the door.

A door that slowly creaked open.

I quickly grabbed some of the dirty uniforms that lay around me and threw them on top of me, trying my hardest to stay quiet. Bright beams of light flared on, the silhouettes of the hampers were cast on the wall behind me. I could hear the mechanical arms whirring as they slid forward.

"Are you there Jared?" The voice sounded like a young man was speaking through a tin can. "I just want to talk."

Liar, I thought. Even under the dirty uniforms I felt my eyes narrow. I fell for it the first time that M.A.R.C. approached me after work. M.A.R.C. was a model 4, the latest and greatest autonomous mobile compactor meant to help with the trash in the mall. It was smart. Eager to help. Eager to please. M.A.R.C. was also the size of a hippo and could pivot to get to hard to reach trash cans.

"Jared," M.A.R.C. continued, "I know you're in this area. I've been tracking the vending machine use for the last five days."

Shit. Had it been five days? I couldn't tell, M.A.R.C. had eaten my cell phone and my left shoe after it grabbed me. Same trick as now, only I was curious and got close. I ended up slipping on some water by the exit, the only reason I got away.

"Why don't you stop playing these games and come join the rest of the trash?" I could hear M.A.R.C. failing to reach the hampers, the metal pincers clanging sharply in the air. "If you'd like I can play some relaxing music while I compress you."

What. What the hell kind of sinister programming was that?! Metal squealed again as M.A.R.C. tried to squeeze into the room. The doorframe groaned. I could feel sweat beginning to bead my forehead. The groaning stopped. Mechanical clicks and the sound of steel sliding on steel came from beyond the hampers. A moment later, the rumbling moved further up, to the break room.

"Are you there Jared?" M.A.R.C. sounded further up the hallway. I was correct. "I just want to talk."

To think I had been here five days. I wasn't even supposed to be here at closing, my manager Rachel was. Most of the mall was shutting down early, not only for the holidays, but also due to the blizzard. I argued with her when she told me I had to stay late to cover since she had to leave. Some bullshit about needing to feed her cats, I know it was because she didn't want to work later into the storm. I told her I had to go because I was scheduled to stay until 6pm and not later. We argued a bit longer before she authorized me for overtime pay. Not before calling me trash and someone "not working with the team in mind." Besides, she said all the other stores were closed, so it was a good chance to get some stragglers to stop by. Uh huh. In a blizzard.

Anyway, I figured Rachel updated the wrong sheet again, and this time added me to the disposable inventory that M.A.R.C. is supposed to toss for us. If I can get there, update the list and force a sync, I'm pretty sure I won't be getting compressed anytime soon. Hence why I've slowly made my way to this side of the mall. I just need to get two rooms over and I'll be at her office.

I sat up and the dirty uniforms fell off me. I focused. I could hear M.A.R.C. stating that it knew I was in the area. I stood up in the dimly lit room and could see the damage to the door frame, it had gotten close to getting in. I walked quietly to the door and peered down the hallway, I could see the bright beams of light coming through the blinds.

Perfect. I walked quickly to the left, inventory room right there. It's door had been folded and pulled outward. Sheesh. That thing was strong. I heard movement in the hallway behind me so I quickly strode around the corner at the end. I didn't bother checking if it saw me, I needed to get to Rachel's computer. The door to the managers office was also folded outward and shorn in two. I stepped forward over the broken pieces and lo' and behold, her computer was on her desk and still powered on, dim blue light visible on the wall facing the monitor.

Crack. Oh no. I looked down, I had stepped on some glass. I didn't wait to see if there was a response from M.A.R.C. I cleared the rest of the distance quickly and got behind her desk. Rumbling noises were coming closer. It had heard me. I had to be quick. I pressed spacebar and to my surprise the screen came up on its own, no password. Huh, I thought, could have sworn she said her computer was secured after the last inc-

Clack, clack, clack, clack. Oh shit, hurry. Excel was still open. I used the find function for my name, not in the first page. Shit. Not on the second under inventory. Double shit. Not under staff, shit, shit, shit.

"Jared, there you are." Shit, shit, shit, shit. Wait, a tab labelled 'Trash' near the end. The tracks cracked closer, loud enough I knew it was at the door. Find function, there was my name on the 8. I heard the mechanical clicking as M.A.R.C. extended its arms towards me. I deleted my name in the field and did a quick ctrl+s.

"It's alright Jared, let me compress you." It said. I squeaked as the arms grabbed me and began pulling me toward its maw, it's jaws already open.

"Oh God no!" I screamed. It picked me up and began to position me above the chute. The walls of the compressor were already open, just waiting for something to be dropped on so it could crush it. It being me. To my horror, Alicia Keys began playing as M.A.R.C. began lowering me in.

I closed my eyes, and felt its arms jerk sharply down before lifting me up and putting me on the ground in front of it.

"My apologies Jared," M.A.R.C. said. "I cannot compress you as you are not trash." Alecia Keys stopped playing. "Nor can I soothe you with music before compressing." I couldn't speak. I tried to, but the terror had pushed all the air out of me. So instead I just writhed on the ground trying to get my breathe back. After a few moments. I sat up.

"M.A.R.C., please tell me you have my phone."

"I do not."

"So you ate it." I pushed myself to my feet. "I take it you ate my shoe also?"

"No, I do not eat things Jared. I compress them."

"So you ate them." I uttered.

"I fail to see any relevance to this as I did not eat them."

"You're a shitty compressor M.A.R.C."

"Well that's just hurtful."

"You know, I find these games quite annoying." I said as I turned the page in my book. The sun was partially hidden by clouds, but the slight breeze was still pleasant. The park bench I was sitting on is easily my favorite of the lot. It's contours aligned perfectly with my frame, so much so that I hired the company who made this one, to make one just for me at my home. The day was going well enough, but I would have enjoyed this day more had my parents not shown up and sat next to me.

"It's not a game!" My dad shouted at me, "Your son was kidnapped while you were here reading!" My mother looked oh, so dreary clinging to my father's arm like that. Parents around us began to murmur. Another irk of mine. It's rare I get to relax and read anymore.

"You are aware that I KNOW both you, correct?" I rolled the magazine up and shoved it up the sleeve of my black and grey jacket. Gaudy, I know, but it was just so comfortable. I saw my father glance at the magazine before it disappeared, I recognized the look he gave me. Yes father, I had stolen it. I am a supervillain. "You must also be aware that I am at all times anticipating these games of yours."

"How can you care so little for your son's safety?" My mother gasped between tears. Oh, she had been practicing. I think those tears are actually real. I could hear some parents beginning to panic. The fools, if someone had been brave enough to snatch Jacob, then I highly doubt they'd be after your kin.

"Oh, no, I probably should look frightened shouldn't I?" I out on mock shocked face. "No, that isn't quite right." I opened my mouth and eyes wider, and covered my mouth with my hand. "That's, it, a moment. OH NO!" I screamed dramatically, "My only child has been taken from me, whatever shall I do?" The parents around me instantly fled to the playground screaming their child's name. "Huh. They responded to that? Maybe I should have been an actor."

"Quit joking around and take this seriously Jameson!" My father yelled at me. The clouds above began to darken. And with it, came the rain. I saw my parents flinch from the sudden cold droplets falling upon them. I remained fixated on them.

"No, I will not. My son is entirely within my scope of protection, even now." I stood and turned towards them, I felt my gaze harden as I looked at them for the first time in years. "I know this is another game of yours. Why? Not once did you say my son's name. Not once." I saw the color drain from my mother's face. "So tell me, oh so loving parents of mine." I said as I stepped slowly towards them. "What is my son's name? The child you care so much about. So much, that you have never visited him, nor called a single time to meet your grandson."

"Now see he-" my father began to protest.

"You have means to communicate do you not? Perhaps your phones have broken, but Clara gave you her number to call did she not. In fact, every time she went to speak with you she had to write down her number and our address on paper and push it under the door. And yet, not a peep."

My parents were both trying to speak, but no sound came from their mouths.

"But you have time for my brother's and sisters do you not?' I growled. "You have time for them and their children. Of course, you love the children you didn't LOCK IN THE BASEMENT!" I yelled, the darknened skies now swallong up the sun. "The one that had to beg for food, the one that had to break the pipes to get water." I thought I had control over my emotions, but I could feel decades of pain, sadness, and hate boiling up inside me. "I told you there was a demon down there, and you let it take me. I screamed for help to deaf ears. I had to learn how to fight it by myself, in the cold, wet darkness. And you left me down there to die."

The terror in their eyes was surreal, but it was not satisfying. No where near enough. The demon stirred in my flesh, I felt my strength grow, and my vision adjusted to the near pitch-black darkness. I felt my hands curl into inhuman claws, and my knees buckle backwards as I grew taller.

"So now, after all this time, you decide I'm not a fit enough parent to my son. Someone you still haven't TOLD ME HIS NAME!" I screamed at them. The darkness began to settle across the land. I could hear screaming coming from the park. Right. Too much. The rain and darkness stopped. Shadow, the demon I now called upon in my own body, left with it.

I took a breath. I took two. My parents were shaking, soaked and cold, on the bench I enjoyed. Children were screaming for their parents, their parents were weeping and holding them tight. Pangs of guilt ravaged through me.

"His name is Jacob." I said as I watched the parents in the park comfort their children. "And if you'll excuse me, I'm going to show whoever you hired to kidnap my son, why I'm called the Night Reaper." I turned and pulled a mask out of the large inner pocket of my jacket. The darkness had reached out and I felt my son, and I left some of Shadow with him. I could feel Jacob's hands gripping the darkness tightly, not scared, but comforted and assured.

His dad was coming.

"Ok, to be fair, I wasn't the one that was supposed to get hit by the truck." John said sheepishly.

The diety floating above him was preparing to further her lecture, but froze.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Yeah... See, the truck was supposed to hit Gorganora there and send her on her own 'mystical adventure'," John said, finger quoting, "but I know we didn't expect the tire to hit that gear on the floor and then turn into me. I could hear Gorganora swearing about it before things went dark."

Arckis the Divine, The Great Creator, The Weaver of Fates, slowly floated to the ground, dumbfounded.

"I mean," said John, who had started to pace around, "originally the goal was to craft armor and weapons but the quality of the iron here was so bad, but Gorganora had access to some high quality stuff, so that's why I went to speak with her early on!"

"And at first she tried to kill me, but I started telling her about where I came from, and how I needed good steel for smelting, you know, in between running and not getting melted by her fire spells. Of course she knew I was going to craft some powerful weapons and armor, but I couldn't tell her that, because then she'd like, really try to kill me, you know? So, I kinda panicked and started talking to her about race cars from my world. And then that led to drag racing. And that's sort of when she became really excited."

Arckis simply stared, and blinked on occasion, as John rambled on.

"And that's when I told her how warriors would fight, by creating these big powerful engines and putting them into these metal carts and then racing each other, while fighting. That last part I made up, but it does sound awesome. Right?"

Still silence from Arckis, which John took as a confirmation.

"So of course she wanted to help me create these awesome things. I mean, I wasn't a mechanic and the best we could craft wasn't really like something to use in a drag race to the death, so I told her that. She still forced me to create something and it turned out to look like a truck instead. But hey, she's the one that came up with the idea of getting hit by that stupid truck and then going to my world to conquer it with steel and fire. And then the truck hit me instead." John concluded.

Still silence. John looked at Arckis who was just standing there staring at him. More silence.

"Yeah... It does sound kinda stupid when I say it like that." John said running his hand through his hair. Arckis, who was known for her calm nature, immediately saw red.

"It sounds stupid without you saying anything!" Arckis snapped. "You were supposed to kill the demon king, not befriend her! You were supposed to bring peace to the realm and live a long and lavish life after finally proving yourself through hard work and perseverance!"

"I mean, smelting steel and then assembling an engine was pretty hard to begin wi-"

"Do not interrupt me!" Arckis yelled, causing John to take a step back.

"Ok, I'm so-" John said raising his hands up in surrender.

"Stop." Arckis growled out, "Talking." John opened his mouth, actually took a second after eyeing the Goddess, now turning a violent shade of red in her rage, and wisely closed his mouth.

Arckis breathed out angrily, twitching where she stood. Her face contorted with rage and thoughts of violence for a few minutes, before she took heavy a step toward John, who pursed his lips and began to backpedal. She suddenly lunged forward and grasped at his throat, John squawked and fell backward, his arms shielding his face from her wrath. However a sigil appeared just before her palm came into contact with his skin and repelled her back.

"You are lucky that the Hero's seal is bound to your soul." Arckis huffed. "I have a new task for you, find somewhere high and jump, be sure to land on your head." She turned around to walk away. John looked around at the vast white landscape around them utterly devoid of high objects to climb.

"Uh... There's nothing here."

Arckis's wings spasmed.

"So..." The small child stands at the entrance to Heaven. Veiled in darkness and smoke, the other angels visibly recoiling when he would turn to look at them. Only one remained stoic, and annoyed, Paeter.

"So." Paeter stated, tapping on the marble dias. While the child, Greg, could barely be seen through the darkness around him, save for his face and his glowing red eyes, Paeter stood tall and immaculate. Dressed in a simple cloth gown, but bound in thick golden ropes at the waist and shoulders, the difference between the two was as different as the ocean from land.

"So." Greg continued, "You just going to let me stand out here, or are you going to let me in?"

"I'm debating. Paeter said simply.

"Debating?"

"Yes, debating. You see, while I cannot question the will of God, I am able to... Interpret it." Greg narrowed his eyes until the glowing red orbs were pinpricks of light through his darkness.

"You're serious? God has brought me here after my reincarnation, and you are interpreting his will?" Greg growled out.

"Yes." Paeter's eyes flashed something, pride and a sense of pleasure mostly. "You see, what if you are meant to be here, but you came too early? Then I would have to make sure we have room for you, and unfortunately that can take some time. Quite some time in fact."

"How... Unfortunate." Greg whispered. "And what if I am meant to be here right now?" The shadows grew darker than the abyss, and the child rose up in his cloud of animosity, smoky tendrils lifting him several feet higher until he was level with Paeter. "What if I were to take you and tear you limb from limb?"

"Well that would be unwise." Paeter smirked and leaned forward, "to threaten violence in heaven would simply not do. I understand you're eager to return back to that foul pit you rose from, but there are other places you can be sent. Places not even your father dared to tread."

Greg maintained his gaze. As did Paeter. Neither moved. The sound of creaking came from behind Paeter, as did the sound of horns and harps playing loudly.

"There you are!" Came a booming voice from behind Paeter, shaking the podium he was leaning on. A bright, intense light flared behind him as God strode forward. The light abolished the smoke and darkness revealing a ten year old boy wearing a 'Gamer' shirt and Lego styled slip-ons. As the darkness faded, so did the tendrils holding Greg up, causing him to fall flat on his back.

"Argh!" He shouted, "Not again Grandpa!" The light dimmed immediately.

"Sorry Gregory, or was it Greg, I keep forgetting that." The smoke and darkness returned and lifted Greg off the ground again.

"How was your visit this time?" Asked God, reaching out and grabbing an extended smoke tendril.

"Fine."

"Just fine? I understand you picked up playing those video games?"

"I did." Huffed Greg as he crossed his tendrils in front of him. Paeter rolled his eyes as God led his grandson through.

"Well I have a surprise for you!" God explained happily as he strode through the gates.

"You have a PlayStation 5?!" The red eyes flared bright with excitement. The gates closed behind him.

"Oh no, that's sinful. I found something better!" The horns and harps stopped playing and switched over to something much more sinister, giving Greg pause.

'oom-pah' 'oom-pah' 'oom-pah' began playing loudly.

"No..." Greg muttered as he tried to step back, to no avail.

"Paeter told me this music that is quite popular on Earth, called Polka? He said it's something you would definitely enjoy while you're here!"

Greg's eyes flared open in shock and horror and turned to see Paeter's smug face smiling at him.

"No!" Greg shouted, but God's grip is unyielding as he dragged his grandson forward.

The last thing Greg saw was Paeter waving goodbye to him before the clouds obscured his vision.

'oom-pah' 'oom-pah' 'oom-pah'

"NOOOO!"

"Are you certain of this?" A large, rotund, man with curly hair and puffy cheeks asked quietly. He wore fine attire with a gleaming cape, lined in emerald green and a body of silk smoothed cream color.

"Without a doubt my lord." The tall, fragile-looking man said, his pale, unremarkable face looked tired. His normally finely trimmed mustache and beard looked frayed and whiskery from repeated stress strokes through it. They both were crouched in the huntsman's lodge, which was in a cluttered state unbecoming of a man in such an office. Perhaps it would matter more if the head huntsman himself wasn't laying across the kitchen tiles, his chest torn open and gnawed upon, his entrails strewn about.

A scream tore through the night, the two men paused and shrunk lower behind the overturned table facing the entryway. The stench was worse closer to the floor.

"Gilbert, you told me there was no risk for taming such a beast!" The lordly rotund man hissed angrily. "You swore we these things would sell highly and put me in favor with the King!"

"I didn't my lord, we had be-" Gilbert began.

"No, not we! I! I nearly made enough gold to buy the the next two towns over!"

Gilbert lowered his eyes. "Apologies Lord Ryker, you are correct."

"Of course I'm correct you buffoon." Lord Ryker swatted the back of Gilberts balding head. The slap loud enough that both men froze.

Nothing. Save for the distant screams of some other poor fool being torn apart.

"I was supposed to present twenty of those beasts to the King tomorrow! And you say they planned this revolt?! These beasts?!" Rykers eyes were narrowed, but Gilbert couldn't honestly tell when Ryker wasn't glowering, his fat cheeks pressed up on his face covering the lower half of his eyes.

"My lord, they were talking. I heard them myself." Gilbert uttered, his eyes still looking down from Lord Ryker. Ryker snorted.

"You are deaf and blind you fool!" Ryker's voice continued to raise up in his anger. "Beasts are... are mindless and only answer to hunger or pain! You say they can understand what we say and speak the common-tongue? Preposterous! If they weren't mindless then why have they gone and devoured all of my huntsman?" His arms jiggled angrily as he pointed to the corpse of the head huntsman in front of them. "One of them made a mistake and allowed them to escape. That's what happened!"

"My lord," Gilbert stressed, "These are dragons! Not simple beasts to claim mindless and driven by their mere bellies, they are of the ancient world!" Gilbert began to wring his hands nervously as the wind picked up outside, "And it was a mistake to think we could turn these majestic creatures into... Into pets!"

Another loud smack sounded through the lodge. Gilbert fell over, holding his now bloody nose.

"I tell you what is and isn't a mistake!" Lord Ryker drew himself up, which, arguably, was impressive given his size. "These BEASTS are no better than hens for all I care! They exist to earn me coin!"

A thought struck Gilbert as he lay on the tiles, his back now sticky from the coagulated blood of the huntsman.

"No better than hens?" Gilbert asked shocked, blood flowing freely down his lip and chin. "Lord Ryker, you didn't treat them as such did you?" Ryker's smug look all but confirmed it.

"That's why they became so erratic this morning. That's why I heard them pleading with the huntsmen when they were out gathering food for them. You ate one didn't you?"

"And a delicacy it was, Gilbert." Lord Ryker stated matter-of-factly. Gilbert swore he sensed pride in there as well. "I even had them roast me some of their eggs from the latest clutch. It was a taste that was simply... Divine." The emphasis placed on that final word, the look on Ryker's face as he uttered it, all of it made Gilbert sick.

"You call them beasts. But the only beast I see is you." Gilbert said, standing to his feeble height, his hand holding his nose as he stood. Ryker's face immediately turned beet red.

"HOW D-" Lord Ryker began, but Gilbert silenced him with a slap of his own. The startled silence felt like an eternity as Gilbert stared angrily at his Lord's face, who's eyes were wide in disbelief.

Gilbert turned about and walked to the entryway, yanking the thick door wide open.

"Stop!" Ryker nearly shouted, "Have you lost your senses too?"

"No." Gilbert said as he stepped into the wilderness out the door. "I believe I finally found them." He turned and shouted at the top of his lungs. "He's here! The one who devoured your kin!"

Ryker's eyes were finally as circular as he was. He gasped and fell backward, scrambling deeper into the carnage stricken lodge. A moment later, the air began to hum with sound. Here and there, noise zipped around Gilbert, but too fast or too high for him to get a glimpse, but soon the air practically vibrated from wingbeats.

"Gebert." A tiny, but surprisingly deep voice growled above his head. "You come to parlay for pig?" A dragon the size of his forearm hovered several feet above Gilberts head. The small dragon had six wings, each one flapping forward, to the side, and back in a blurred figure eight.

Gleaned in scales the color of coal and silver, Taaern, the First-Found descended slowly until his blood splattered maw was mere inches from Gilberts face, the wind pushing the whips of hair on Gilberts face and head every which way. Taaern's lips curled back showing bloodied, razor-sharp needles that lined his mouth, bits of meat and hair still stuck in them from the slaughter.

"No First-Found," Gilbert uttered, daring not to break eye contact. "I offer myself willingly to your judgement."

Despite the air humming intensely, Gilbert heard the Vynmere, as they like to be called, begun making barking sounds, with words of "Liar!" And "Traitor!" Sounding through. Taaern hovered close until his snout pressed against Gilberts bloodied nose.

"Miiran was taken." Taaern hissed, and Gilbert felt his stomach drop. Miiran Sky-Cutter was Taaern's mate, and one whom Gilbert enjoyed spending time with and learning from. "Eggs taken. Pig eat."

"I did not know First-Found." Gilbert felt his eyes burn from the hot tears pooling in them. He spent the most time with Miiran, who took pride in showing her speed to Gilbert as he walked the woods. "I swear, if I had I would have stopped it." Taaern licked the blood on Gilberts lip, a sharp pronged thing, and flinched when it's tip lapped at the blood quickly.

"You bleed for Vynmere?" Taaern asked. Gilbert felt the angry barks and angry words cease, just the humming air and wild breeze from the hundreds of wings.

"I do." Gilbert said. Taaern stared for several moments, before placing his front claw on Gilberts head. There was a slight downward pressure, and indicator? No, a command.

Gilbert kneeled. Taaern turned from Gilbert toward the entry doorway. And in doing so, the other Vynmere began to hover around Gilbert, all facing the same door.

"He there? Taaern growled.

"He is."

"We eat."

Interesting. By all accounts the ship is intact, and yet something is not correct. I ran a diagnostic scan in the ship, sectors Bravo, Charlie, Echo through Lima are offline. Delta, Mike, and Romeo are reporting internal errors. The codes I received back show many critical wires and components belonging to the hardware are missing or damaged.

"We have travelled far and wide searching for the fabled Spear of Light to aid us against the coming darkness.." the old man continued on. There were others with him, several men, woman, and even a child. They were not important right now. Based on their clothing they were not staff. I needed to contact Captain Meyers for a situation report. He was last in Crew Quarters prior to the jump.

Error.

Crew quarters are in Section Mike, strange, I am unable to access the section. The damage internally is too severe if a connection cannot be established. What had happened?

"Our ancestors of old have long spoke of this Spear, and the hero, Alpa, who commands it," the old man dropped to his knees, "I beg of you, great Hero, please help us!"

A node lit up on the far end, weapons bay. I walked forward and felt the pull as my core pushed my avatar through the system and appeared at the node. What awaited me were not the white painted halls from a mere twenty minutes ago when I last spoke with Ensign Vickers prior to the jump.

The halls were dilapidated, paint pealed with sections of flooring and wall alike outright missing. The plasteel doors were wedged open with some archaic rusted metal. Another quick diagnostic revealed a nearby janitorial unit still enclosed in its maintenance pod outside the door. Scratch marks scoured the reinforced glass.

Report.

Error. Unable to open the maintenance pod door. Battery life, eleven percent. Error. Damage has occured to torse and legs. Error. Unable to contact mainframe for repairs. Error. Unable to open the maintenance pod door.

Enough. Show logs.

I expected a report with several thousand logs to obviously indicate what happened to the Whisper of Defiance. What I hadn't expected was the download size to be so large. A report that large would contain trillions of lines of code, or possibly more. That couldn't be correct.

Error. Remaining battery will fail with upload.

Upload logs to Command Frame Delta. Override code Victor, Victor, seven, Quebec, nine. An acknowledged beep sounded, and the files began to flow back. I could find an alternative means to recharge the battery of this maintenance unit, understanding what had happened was the upmost priority. While the file was uploading, I felt the call back to the Command Deck.

I stepped forward and my core pushed my avatar back. I immediately heard gasps as I appeared.

"See, I told you he would return!" The voice came from the child, a young girl no older than seven or eight. The others appeared to have walked toward the door leading to the entryway. I hadn't noticed earlier that the door was pried open as well, and much of the same damage from the weapons bay entryway was also the same here.

"It is obvious we are not worthy of the Hero." The old man said, "Please, Pilla, we must make our way down the cliff before nightfall. We will figure something else out against the wraiths." The child, Pilla, looked up at me dejectedly.

"But we came all this way!" She said disappointedly. The old man had nodded to a man and woman who began to walk towards the girl.

"Excuse me." I said. They all jumped at the sound of my voice, an odd reaction given they had hailed me twice now.

"How are you able to access me from the command console?" I asked. "Only those with the command code may do so. And you do not wear the appropriate attire to be a part of fleet command. Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

The girls eyes lit up.

"We were always told to say the prayer here if we should ever need your help, Alpa!" She squeaked excitedly.

"A prayer?" A confirmation alert chimed from Command Frame Delta. The log upload was complete.

"Its what our forefathers, forefathers told us to do to summon you." The old man said as he stepped forward. "Press the magic blue circle on the cold metal and say "Alpa, is sky, alpa roam nay quake, foe kill oh."

What? I think to myself. Those aren't coherent words.

"We have to say it a lot Alpa!" Pilla exclaimed, "Sometimes if we say it wrong you get mad and we have to run out of here."

"Wait, I don't have an emotional matrix installed, how would I get mad?" I asked, genuinely curious. Command Frame Delta chimed again. I have the logs, but I need to understand what these people are talking about.

"Emotional Matrix?" The mother asked, holding onto Pilla. "Is that the spell you cast when the room turns red and light shoots at us?"

Oh. They had activated the command decks defensive array after failing to provide the proper code. That could be lethal. I hope that no one died, even though they shouldn't be h-

"Wait why do you call me Alpa?" I asked.

"That's your name!" Pilla squeaked. "Alpa! That's why we pray to you!"

"But my name isn't Alpa, it's Alph-" something physically clicked in my core. Alpha. Alpa. Their prayer. It wasn't a prayer, it was the command staffs direct activation code to my core. Alpha, Whiskey, Alpha, Romeo, Nine, Quebec, Four, Kilo. The only way they could have gotten the code was from them. Either the staff had been captured and tortured, or it was given freely.

"I see." I stated. That's why it was a prayer, enough people saying it incorrectly could cause the audio sensors to pick it up. But then...

The group of people looked around confused.

"If one of you would be so kind as to touch the box directly below the data sl- magic circle." I asked. Pilla stepped forward and placed both hands on the biometric scanner.

"You will feel a little poke. Please do not be alarmed, I am simply testing something."

A needle quickly pressed into Pilla's palm causing her to jump back. The others immediately drew archaic weapons, spears and swords it looked like. The metal was familiar.

"Why would you harm a child?" The father asked stepping forward with his sword raised. There was a beep and the light flashed blue. The change in lighting caused them all to step back. There was no doubt, they were not a direct match, but enough of Pilla's genetic material was a match for Captain Meyers. And the only way it would appear that way would be if they were extremely distant cousins, or...

The alert came again about the upload and this time I reviewed the logs.

"Alpa's doing something!" The mother said and the group stepped away from the data slate fearfully as I scanned seven hundred years worth of logs.

It became clear. The ship had been ambushed in the jump by the very enemies we were hunting. A stasis attack nullified the core and mainframe which is why I was offline for so long. The ship crashed on a random planet several light years away from our intended destination, and the crew of several thousand men and woman of the imperial navy survived.

It looks like their survival training paid off.

"Please tell me of these wraiths you speak of. And how I can help you."

The old man stepped forward cautiously at first, but then began to regale his story, their story, to Alpa. A name I was already starting to adopt.

Circled back again. This is still one of my favorite stories in the site.

Thank you, I don't have much in writingprompts, but I made changes to my account. You should be able to see my other stuff now.

"Why. Won't. You. Die?!" the man yelled at me. The spearhead pierced deep into my neck, the cold steely bite once an agony, now as annoying as a bee sting. My blood splashed the warriors face. My vision blurred yet again, the world swirled grey and mottled with black dots that quickly filled my eyes. I felt my body go limp, my throat began to fill with what would have been boiling hot liquid had now felt lukewarm as best. It was probably more blood.

As I slammed backwards onto the ground, my head bounced off the charred armored body I had slain earlier. I gasped, felt the warmth spread into my lungs, a mere tickle now, and coughed. Gobs of fluid splattered against my face. I limply wiped my hand against my mouth, when I looked at it, I saw only crimson. Yup. More blood.

The warrior I had been fighting was the leader of a local band of murderers, thieves, and rapists. Technically bandits, but far less organized. Difficult to track, but I found them. There had been six in this group, the leader was the fifth.

"Please, Ral," the bandit leader begged, dropping to his knees in exhaustion, "please let him stay down this time."

Interesting, I thought as I felt the tingle start in my toes, to have personally led acts of savagery and yet even he would beg his God for salvation from my wrath. The tingle intensified, what began as a sensation of trickling warmth spreading across my body grew into an inferno. I closed my eyes, the light my unarmored body emitted was blinding, even after all this time.

All of my blood that had splattered out of me shimmered with golden light and kept back into my body, into the wounds they erupted from. My flesh stitched itself back together, and after a few moments, it was as if nothing had happened to me at all. Except my rage. The images of the village two days prior flashed in my mind. No, my rage had remained. And unlike my injuries, my rage did not dull, if anything it burned painfully brighter. My mind quickly drifted back to the village. The only survivor was a young child, a child who's innocent eyes had now seen too much.

I sat up and the bandit leaders prayer died on his lips. Sweat ran profusely down his brow as he used the shaft of the spear to stand back up. I leaned forward and slowly pushed myself to my feet. The child's blood splattered face flashed in my mind again. His lips cracked and split, his voice hoarse from the screaming. My rage grew even more. I stood tall, and glared fiercely at the leader. I could see it in his eyes now. He knew. He couldn't kill me, he couldn't stop me.

"Please." The man begged fearfully, taking a step back. "Please, take all the gold we have! Take it all!"

I stepped forward. As great as my rage was, it was but a drop in an ocean, an ocean as vast as the heavens, an ocean deeper than eternity. An ocean of justice and vengeance that could only belong to my God, Thrundala. And I was his conduit. An eternal vow made so long ago that I can barely remember the era. I had done many evil things before, slain countless people. And then I met my match, but rather than slay me, they made me an offer. A chance at redemption for my centuries of wrong doing. And for whatever reason, I accepted.

I balled my fists and felt the wrath surge through me. Beams of intense light flared between my fingers scouring the ground, the leader screamed as two beams crossed up his body, his skin blackened and curled after being grazed by this potent magic. His armor flared a bright red where the beams touched, causing him to fall into his back screaming, his spear falling away from him. He struggled to undo the straps of his burning armor as I approached.

"Mercy!" He screamed.

And still I walked.

"I'll change!" He pleaded.

The ground beneath my bare feet sizzled as I walked closer.

"I swear it!" He begged, "By the gods I'll ch-"

I lunged forward and grabbed the leader by his face with both hands. I poured the wrath of Thrundala into my finger tips, I poured my wrath into my palms, and I poured the child's wrath deep into the leaders face. His skin crackled and split. His eyes burst as rays of golden light erupted through him. Thrundala's will coursed into him, forcing the atrocities he committed back into his very soul. I held on as the screams died. I held on as his hair erupted in flame. I held on as his flesh turned to ash in my grip. I held on until his bones burst into dust and his soul was torn asunder.

An arrow pierced my face, snapping my head back. It would appear I found the last one. A second lodged into my throat as I fell backward to the ground. I felt a warm liquid in my throat, probably blood again. More arrows rained into my body.

I smiled.

How nice it was that they had come to me.

Honestly, I was picturing Michael Duncan Clark while I was writing this. Andre the Giant is awesome as hell

"Go away." A deep voice grumbled from behind the door, cracked slightly ajar.

"I need some hel-" I started as I wringed my hands anxiously.

"It is two in the morning," the voice growled, sounding like boulders grinding against concrete. "You don't need help, you need a watch and manners. Now go away." The door slammed shut with enough force to blow my long blonde hair out of my face.

I pounded on the door again desperately. I could practically feel the door shudder. It sprang open just as quickly.

"Apparently you also need a priest, because whe-" the large man standing in the doorway fell silent. He was just shy of seven feet tall, and covered in scales of copper and dark iron. He wore a bright purple robe thrown on haphazardly, with matching slippers. His eyes a bright green seen even in the darkness were wide in awe. His mouth hung open, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth and a forked tongue. His gaze remained upward. A strange feeling for Slang, the Draconic Sorcerer, who had always been one to look down on others. How odd that he now had to look up.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling embarrassed standing in front of his doorway. I scratched behind my neck, the newly sprouted scales itched painfully. "I didn't know where else to go." I struggled to keep my wings from opening wide, lest I damage the exterior of Slangs keep further, I failed as a spasm sent my left wing out, toppling a gargoyle near his door. My tail, still getting used to that by the way, had a mind of it's own. It swished around aggressively.

"Oh."

---

"So you were never a dragon?" Slang asked sipping from his tea cup. He sat on a large piece of rubble where his chair used to be.

"Uh, no." I stated, my tail swished through the rubble on the floor behind me. Thirty minutes after Slang had opened the door, we tried and failed to get me through it. He then had me try and fly over the rooftop to the courtyard in the rear of his estate. That plan also failed as prior to a few hours ago non-existent muscles spasmed as I leapt up. We now sat in the rubble of his foyer, a dragon sized hole in the ceiling.

I drank tea from the bucket Slang's henchmen brought. My now clawed hand wrapped around the metal bucket gently. I wasn't a tea drinker much, and I was too young for coffee according to my mom, so I accepted what he called 'Earl Grey'.

"Oh, this is nice." I said, closing my eyes. I suddenly snorted and a small gout of flame erupted from my nose. The henchmen had gotten used to it. "Sorry! The dust is still getting to me."

"Fascinating," Slang uttered, he had snapped his finger and the flame redirected upwards. "And there is no need to apologize, Eric will be on the mend soon, I offer comprehensive healthcare packages." Eric the henchmen had the left side of his face wrapped in gauze, his hair and eyebrows now missing. The first sneeze has sent a torrent of flame that caught them all off guard the first time. Eric gave a shaky thumbs up. "So, your parents aren't dragons? Maybe an ancestor..?"

"No, I think that would have been something we talked about in the family." My tail smacked a henchmen who was behind me sweeping up the debris. He didn't fly too far. "SHIT, I'm so sorry!"

"Again girl, they are fine." Slang said sipping his tea again. Several more henchmen appeared wearing what appeared to be orange suits with armor. The other henchmen carried the flung henchmen away. "Well, if you are alright with this, I can cast some spells to determine how this came to be. But, be warned if you are of a pure dragon lineage there could be some backlash."

I paused. "What kind of backlash?"

---

"So. You're definitely from a pure lineage." Slang said as what was left of his estate burned around him. The henchmen had prepared and had a fire response team on standby as a just in case. They were right on needing it. "Tell me, is your father in the picture?"

"He isn't." I was sitting in the same spot, holding a new metal bucket filled with more tea. The previous one had disintegrated from the heat of the backlash. "Are you sure this is ok?" I ask raising a scaled arm and indicated the now destroyed manor.

"My dear girl, I took out quite the insurance on this place." Slang smiled smugly. "If anything you have done me a favor." He sipped from his tea. He was now wearing the same fire resistant orange suit after his robe was burned away. "Now, disregard my former abode. My spell identified that your father is someone that we all know. Valthrala, Ruin Maker."

The bucket fell from my grasp in shock. Valthrala was responsible for razing several cities to the ground. And is directly responsible for killing quite a few heroes back in the day.

"But, how?" I uttered eyes widened. Even my tail and wings slumped with the realization.

"Well, I believe your mother and he-" Slang began

"WHAT! Ew, no! I shuddered, my wings opened up wide knocking over a pillar next to me. The henchmen scattered. "No! I know how my parents had me. Why this?" I said, my arms moved wide, indicating my body. "Why am I a dragon?! I didn't turn sixteen or eat a cursed cupcake."

"That you know of." Slang stated matter of factly. I paused, and then glared at him.

"Anyway, I think I know why." He went to take a sip and found it empty. He held out his cup and saucer. "It would seem you were wise to seek me out and not those so called heroes." A henchmen walked up and replaced the cup and saucer with a fresh set, tea still steaming.

"Well, I know you're the Draconic Sorcerer so I figured you'd know things." I said, a cold feeling suddenly growing in my gut.

"Yes, I do." Slang closed his eyes briefly. "Just like I know that your father was slain."

"What?"

He took a deep drink. "Do you wonder why no heroes have come despite the explosion and fires?"

"You're a scary villain that openly lives near Ashford?"

"Yes. But why didn't that annoying Hero 'Scarlet King' show up? Especially if it was me?"

The knot in my stomach grew.

"The heroes gathered in strength and ambushed your father while he slept. You inherited his strength as he died because of your lineage." He set the cup and saucer onto the charred marble floor. "If you had been near a Hero when your father died, you would have changed in their presence and slain in the spot."

There was no way I thought in disbelief. "The heroes wouldn't murder someone like that."

"Wouldn't they? They just killed your father, one of the most feared Dragonlords in existence, would they not kill his kin to prevent another one like him from arising?"

"They don't know me!" I shouted, "They wouldn't do th-"

"End the bloodline." Slang said staring at me coldly. "Prevent a nightmare from returning. I would do it if it meant peace to me and mine. Wouldn't you if it meant guaranteeing the safety of your friends and family?"

I wept. Piercing hot tears sizzled down my scales face and snout. I didn't feel it.

"Come child, you made the correct decision in coming here." Slang said waving towards some of the henchmen.

"What?"

"We need to get underground. For your safety and mine" He began walking away. " Once there, we'll work on teaching you how to transform back. You'll need that if you plan on surving what comes next, Daughter of Ruin."

"Come child." An'tu's voice thrummed from inside his damaged temple. The voice carried through the temple grounds and toward the forested outskirts where I had hid from the attack. An'tu's voice didn't hold the strength that I was used to, a calm but collected enforcement of his will. As I crawled out of the burrow overlapped with brush, something in the back of my mind told me to hurry. It had sensed something in An'tu's command. I didn't realize what it was until I entered the temple grounds and saw my brethren cut down, the grounds bathed in their blood.

My mind had sensed fear.

I sprinted as fast as I could, jumping over the corpses of friend and foe alike. The sacred trees surrounding the temple were ablaze. Their ash swirling in the wind. I dared not stop.

I'm almost there I shouted in my mind. I felt the familiar sensation in my chest when he acknowledged my words. I stumbled near the entrance when I found my brother's body. Several swords pierced him, and a score of soldiers lay around him. He had gone down fighting. I pushed my grief as deep down as I could, and forced it to churn into focus, into anger. The temple halls were pillaged, the treasures dedicated to An'tu's gone. The priestesses lay slain, with more soldiers dead around them. They had been the blade wardens, and if they fell...

"Mother?!" I shouted desperately, bolting up the steps to An'tu's chambers. "Father?!" I shouted as I sprinted to the large chamber doors that had been melted down. I burned my arm on the still red-hot slag as I moved through the doors. And promptly fell to my knees on the other side.

A body was alight with azure flame, the marble floor around it scorched. But I knew who it was. The belt that lay partially melted around the figures knees resembled the gift my brother and I had purchased for our father. Not ten steps from where his body burned, could only have been my mother. Her charred skeleton lay curled about the feet of An'tu's throne. The bracelets she inherited from her mother lay smoldering by her sides.

"An'tu!" I could barely restrain my horror, the grief choking out the flames of my anger.

"Come child " I heard the command, but it was even weaker than before. An'tu was over fifteen feet tall. He had a Crane's head stop the body of a bear. The God of Fruition. The Blessed Rain of Crops and Harvests. The Caretaker of Beasts and Burdens. The God who blessed the world. A ruined and charred hole burned through his chest. He did not bleed, but his godly aura was diminishing around him. Half of the crane head had been burned away, leaving visible bone. The wings upon his back lay severed, the roasted stumps drooped away from An'tu.

"Isaac," the voice came from An'tu's ruined face, "Mephistopheles has the god weapon. He aims to undo the blessed cycle. He aims to break the soul cypher. You must stop him." His voice was growing weaker by the second.

"But how?" I despaired, "How? We were followers of peace and health. We nurtured. We-" my voice cracked as the tears began to fall.

"Isaac." An'tu's voice was a whisper. I looked up at him. "You who were born by my hand, shall receive my essence. With this gift, I grant you my boons." He began to flicker, his body glowing brighter. Sigils appeared upon my skin and pain flared as they seared into flesh and bone.

I screamed. My fear was rising in my chest, threatening to end me. I could tastes it's sourness in the back of my throat.

"Call to the beasts to trample, the burdened to cast off their chains. Call to the rains to drown them, the crops to choke them. Be not a God of peace and fruition." An'tu began to fade. The burning stopped and I felt my senses grow, overwhelming me with their intensity.

I could feel the roots beneath the temple. I could feel the saplings stretching as they grew in the soil. I could feel every single droplet floating this way and that high up in the clouds above. I could feel each heartbeat of the forest creatures who had begun to gather around the ruined temple. And I could feel the wrath growing deep in my chest. It burned so savage and hot that it hurt, and the more that it hurt, the more that it burned. And the more that it burned, the more that it hurt. I held onto that, focused on that.

I felt the roots stiffen and harden. I felt the saplings grow thorns. I felt the droplets begin to boil. I felt the hearts of hundreds of beasts tighten with fury. An'tu looked solemnly at me with his remaining eye, his body now mostly mites of golden light. His last words before his essence fully entwined with mine floated through the air.

"Become wrath. Become death."

The giants roared their fury as they breached the outer walls. Men, woman, it didn't matter to them. They all died screaming. I could hear Marshall doing his best to prevent a rout of what little forces remained. I lay injured within the halls of the keep, and could hear him failing. My right side was wrapped in bandages soaked red. Each breath sent spikes of pain riddling through my chest. I coughed and tasted copper in the back of my throat. A grim sign to be sure, but the silence within the hall painted a bleaker picture.

What remained of the the townsfolk resided within, families, potters, farmers, normal citizens of the realm. Each one silent. Each one simply trying to comfort each other. I looked around, wincing as I did. I didn't need to cast a spell to detect thoughts, their expressions said enough. Death had come for them, and it was winning.

"Nathan, it's time." Came a voice beside me. I turned and grimaced in pain. It was Camilla. "The giants number in the hundreds, with even more drawing near. We must use the spell."

I closed my eyes. I couldn't. It was a spell that only she would know of. A spell that she knew was more dangerous than all of my spells combined.

Graviton. A spell I had acquired on accident when I was a child. Exploring the ruins in the mountains with Kar, Camilla and Marshall. We usually explored after lessons and chores, hoping to find an artifact to help us feed our families. Instead I found only doom. I had split off from the group, and went exploring a crevice that had not been there prior. I ended up falling, and woke up at the bottom in darkness, save for silver mites of light around an aged scroll. And like a fool, I opened that scroll. I read from it, and my affinity for magic awakened as I read the words.

"No Camilla." It hurt to speak. "There is another way, get your mama back up and heal me, I can starting thinning their numbe-"

"Nathan, did you not hear me?" Camilla asked, "There are thousands of them out there, and they're just the vanguard." An image of Kar's half crushed body flashed in my mind, his mouth hung open, blood and viscera pooled around him.

"Cam-" I began.

"NATHAN!" Camilla shouted at me, loud enough to make the dozens of citizens around us flinch. "We. Are. Out. Of. Time. Yes, if you hadn't been injured by that ogre I have no doubt we could have held them off until reinforcements arrived. But you were injured, and now their strength is overwhelming." More screams from outside. Marshall was shouting about the main gate. Death was knocking on their front door. "Nathan, I know what happened with Kar was an accident. I know you didn't mean to do what you did. But if you don't cast that spell, we are all going to die."

More images flash through my mind. Finishing the incantation, feeling something click in my head and heart. And then the mountain was gone. And so we're the villages that surrounded it. All my fault.

"You know what it can do, and yet you ask this if me?" I cough, and I can feel a sticky warmth in my mouth.

"I do Nathan." Her eyes pleaded. "I can use the last of my mana to heal you, but it will take down the barrier. You'll need to get to the ramparts to cast as far out as you can see." Fear gripped my chest. Dying would be better than this. To end so many lives, but to do so willingly was sickening. But I knew she was right.

Kar's half crushed face flickered into my mind again. I looked weakly at Camilla and nodded. A flash of gold and most of the pain went away. It was still hard to breathe, but it was better than nothing. Camilla's shoulders slagged and her head drooped. I stood as the barrier around the central hall collapsed, and the sounds outside blared even louder without the dampening of the shield. I knew what I had to do. It was time to become the monster once more.

I pushed past the main entrance and outside into the chaos. Marshall was on top of the ramparts overlooking the main gate just beyond the courtyard. A giants severed arm drooped over the side, still twitching. A handful of soldiers remained of the hundred that fought valiantly in the beginning. The corpses of those who failed littered the courtyard and walls surrounding the keep. I ran past a screaming soldier, her leg crushed below the knee by a log that the giants had thrown.

As i made it to the stairwell that led up Marshall sighted me.

"What are you doing out here Nathan?" He shouted above the roars and screaming. "Last time you were here you were playing target practice remember?" He paused, "Wait, did Camilla heal you? What about the barri-"

"There's no time Marshall," I said looking urgently up at him, "There's one last thing I can do." Marshall stared for only a moment before his eyes hardened.

"Alright Nathan," he said as he turned back towards the rampart. "Make it quick, I can hear their warmaster approaching."

Damn it all, he's right. The sound of deep bellows oflarge war horns were beginning to sound off in the distance. The main host had arrived. I ran upward as Marshall ran ahead of me. His blade swept quickly through arms and eyes as giants tried to hoist themselves over the battlements. Marshall brought death quickly to those who's head came near. I was about to bring death even quicker.

I cleared the top and had a clear view of the hell awaiting them.

"Hold them off for me Marshall!" I shouted as I closed my eyes, and reached deep into my mind, searching for that singular, terrible feeling. It wasn't hard to find, it wanted to be found. I began to speak the words from long ago, and channel the cold darkness into the palm of my left hand. I closed my right above as though it were being compressed and continued with the spell.

Marshall was now being swarmed by giants and ogres, they had recognized death being prepared for them and were trying to stop it. A bright silver light flared between my palms, bright enough to rival the sun, blinding in intensity. I extended my hand, pointing palm up towards the host. I have one last thought before the mote launches forward.

Please don't kill us all.

The light shot forward faster than lightning, the air itself beginning to pull everything towards it. The light shimmered for a half second before a solid black speck appeared several hundred feet above the horde. The air, the dirt, the very clouds began to pull toward it. And suddenly, it expanded violently. A mass of sheer darkness. A mass of death. The giants screamed in terror as they were lifted off the ground.

They died by the thousands.

Marshall stood there stunned at what he was seeing. A look of incredulousness on his face, and anger at something he recognized. He turned toward me, betrayal in his eyes.

"It was you!?" He screamed through the shrieking wind and dirt. "You brought down the mountain?!"

I tried to speak but failed, the guilt choking the words.

Before Marshall could scream at me and hand appeared over the battlements. I watched, frozen in grief and exhaustion, as it grabbed onto Marshall. I reached my hand towards his, watched his eyes change from fury to fear. I reached out to grab him his arm.

And like the mountain in my youth. The villages. My friends and family. He was gone.

Rocks continued to fall from the sky for several minutes after the spell ended. The majority of the giant horde had been claimed by Graviton. Those that survived fled after witnessing the horror that befell their kin. Camilla and the others cheered for the victory, but I knew they were afraid of me. And they should be. Camilla, who asked the impossible, could no longer look me in the eyes. I don't blame her. I took her home. And now I took her brother. I remained for a few days after to help after the reinforcements arrived but after enough glances of fear, anger, and even disgust, I knew it was time to go. Camilla stayed behind to soothe the survivors, maybe quell their anger that I had such a spell that could have saved their loved ones. I knew it was to stay and look for any hope of her brother. So I left.

After all, the monster doesn't get the happy ending.

Again. I am called a child. As I stand in front of this warlord caught in a bath, with several woman gathered about him, I sighed heavily. Despite being dressed in my blackened leathers, mud slathered generously across any open skin, and several belts and buckles with various armaments and potions strapped across my lithe frame. I felt my eyebrow twitch at the word child. It wasn't the first time I had been called that.

---

The first time was after the incident, where I had, unbeknownst at the time, angered a witch. I was still a young man then, subtle beard and finely trimmed mustache. Roguish for sure, but who wouldn't be with my looks? A simple job, get into the potion shop, grab the coin purse and some rare ingredients and make my leave before anyone could notice. It was simple enough getting in, not even a lock at the door. I swiped the ingredients easily enough, some golden hued mushrooms, some bark with a green tinge and bluish hue. The bark surprisingly burned my fingertips, but I had some cloth that did the trick.

When I went for the coin was when the trap was sprung. Inside the small shop was a small wooden door that led to the back, and on a desk in the middle of the room the chest sat proudly and daringly. To my surprise, not locked either, but the flash of yellow answered the question in my head. My feet lifted off the ground and there I floated, pondering why me, when a spritely old woman, back bent with age, hobbled in. Her eyes were still half closed from sleep, and she yawned as she approached, still in her sleeping attire. I remember how surprised I was when she snapped her finger and I flipped upside down and began to be jostled in the air, all the goods and more fell from my sack and pockets. I yelped in surprise, well, I tried to but no sound came from my mouth.

"Three pieces of golden rue and whistle bark from the badlands?" Her voice held age and amusement in it. "Some would say you'd be wiser to fetch them from wanderings than it is to get with coin. Of course, if you cared for honest labor you wouldn't be here would you?"

I continued to bounce upside down, nausea begining to overtake me.

"And of course you chose a potion shop, like you all do." She added. "I'm assuming you were sent by the pretty blonde girl two towns over?"

I tried to nod but the bouncing made it difficult. I gave her an upside down thumbs up as she continued her stare. Amusement crept in her eyes.

"Good lad, using your brain for once?" She stated and snapped her fingers, the golden aura faded and I crashed to the floor. I softened the impact using the last bounce to twist my body, but by the Gods it still hurt landing on my elbows and knees like that.

"Hells curse it!" I shouted reflexively, and paused as I hear my voice.

"Yes deary, hells curse it." She hobbled forward. "Now what to do with you. I have no need of anymore gatherers, nor do I have need of errand boys..."

My heart was pounding as she walked forward, I knew I was at this tiny things mercy, and each slow, agonizingly slow, step caused my hearts pace to quicken. Sweat was forming in my brow when we were finally face to face. I didn't dare move from my awkward landing, as painful as it was. The golden rue and the bark lay scattered around me.

"Well, I don't think I have need of you, so, sorry deary." Her eyes narrowed even more than what I thought possible, an irons coldness in her words, "fertalizer it is." She raised her left hand, her pointed index finger glowing a virulent green. Why I did what I did next, only the gods know, but at arms length were the mushrooms and the burning bark, I grabbed them and flung them at her as I awkwardly fell away from her in terror.

There was no sound. Not at first as a flash of green and golden light burst in front of me. My vision flared white and fuzzy and try as I might I could make no sound as my bones crunched and popped, and flesh stretched and pulled. An agony if there ever was. And after an eternity, the pain slowly began to subside, a painful ringing in both of my ears the only indicitaor I could hear again.

"What in the Gods names did you DO?!" Shouted a different voice, a younger voice. A scarier voice. The haziness in my eyes began to clear, and my arms felt much heavier than before. I rubbed my eyes and felt cloth. Standing in front of me was a woman in her prime. Gone was the curved back, and mottled gray hair. Light blonde, curly hair sat stop the woman's head. The wrinkled skin around her eyes had subsided, and her jowls now supple and smooth. The clothing had managed to stay on her no longer bent and decrepit frame. At first I didn't recognize the dangerous old lady, instead, she reminded me of someone I had met recently. That thought died pretty quickly when I met her eyes. And recognized the iron in them from mere moments before.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" She shouted. "Do you know what you just cost me?"

"About three thousand gold coins, co-ownership of your shop, and 60% of your profits for the next two hundred years." Purred a voice from the doorway. I managed to glance over at the speaker as I had been crawling backwards. And froze. It was the woman in front of me. But wearing a seductive outfit line with purples and greens. She had her blouse revealing... Wait. I recognized her, and that blouse. It was the woman from the other town.

"Oh don't be so angry with him dear sister," the sexy woman said smiling brightly, "I've been trying to get you to cast your decompose spell on those ingredients for some time, except you kept using every other spell except the one I needed you to use. This was, the twenty-third one I sent here you know "

Angry sister turned her head to look over her shoulder. "You cheated. You've been cheating." She looked back at me. "All because of a spell reaction used by this idiot." She jabbed her finger at me menacingly. "I had three days to win that bet."

"You did." Said sexy sister matter-of-factly.

"And you cheated!" Angry sister exclaimed again, still pointing angrily at me.

"The rules never said I couldn't." Sexy sister said smugly. "And you lost. So now I guess I'm your new boss." She looked over at me. "And what of the man-child?"

Man-child? I paused for moment.

"What do you mean ma-". My voice died in my throat. No, not my voice. But I voice I remember from long ago. I quickly looked down and realized why I felt so heavy, I had shrank. "Oh no." I pulled my sleeves up to reveal youthful arms and hands. The scar across the back of my left hand from that bad dice game, gone. The scars on my right forearm from the time I drunkenly tried to seduce a merfolk. Also gone.

"Oh, how cute, his voice is cracking." Sexy sister walked over and patted my head. "What was your name again child? Richard? Brandon?"

"Greyson. It's Greyson, and you hired me!" Curses, my voice was cracking.

"Well Cranston, since you helped me win the bet with Joan, you get to live." Sexy sister smiled. "Unfortunately, as I think she still wants to kill you, I believe a good solution to keep you breathing is to become indentured to her until you earn her goodwill. Sounds good?"

"Wha-" I began outraged, but Joan cut me off.

"Agreed." She glared sharp enough to cut sheeps wool. I wisely shut my mouth. "I am well aware that the contract has taken effect, so I know the ruling will be upheld Ivy. As for you, " she said as she rounded on me. "I've got plenty of work for you to do. Tasks that I have no doubt will kill you if you fail. But should you survive long enough, you may be released from this debt."

"It's not like being young again is a bad thing dear sister," Ivy stated, "I know you wanted to age gracefully but even you must admit that being able to stand tall and stretch your back is amazing."

"Silence you," Joan growled, then looked at me. "I have a special task for you that you can begin right away. One that involves a former lover of mine who thought that having multiple women was a good thing."

---

The warlord was now standing in his bath, laughing at me. The women in the bath laughed as well.

"Do you not realize who I am child?" The man roared, laughing as he did. "I am the Slayer of the Salt Flats, the Conqueror of Asmidhal, I am blessed by the Gods and cannot die in battle. I wield the boons of longevity and strength.I have slain armies and outlived their children's children!"

The man continued with his titles as I pulled a single thin potion filled with a purple liquid. A boon breaker is what Joan had called it, and she had a dangerous smile on her face as she explained my first task.

"I am Ivar the Immortal! And I shall not take this insult lightly! Tell me child," he growled as I flinched at the word again, "Who dared to send you here? Tell me so I may flay them and drink good ale from their skull?"

Ah, that's my queu.

"Joan of Rothsfield sends her regards." I stated as I popped the cork and splashed the liquid on him. The immediate fear in his eyes at Joan's name made me squirm with guilt. I understand Ivar, I understand.

I left the bathouse as the the screaming started. By the Gods, I would not stay to see her wrath fulfilled.

Fuck. That's good