Baba Yaga's Boutique

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

(( Been inspired by Kill 6 Billion Demons... hopefully I'll get further along in writing this than in other things. ))

Adam Harper was pretty average for an American college student – or rather, he was perfectly average. He took the proper amount of classes for an average college student. He worked the proper amount of hours at his restaurant to give him an average life outside of work and class. He had brown hair, brown eyes, slightly tan skin and an average build. In a crowd he was completely lost, if he were ever in a line-up he’d be looked over.

There was absolutely nothing special about him – except, of course, that he was friends with a sorcerer.

Granted, his opinion of her as a sorcerer was low. Despite all the times she has declared herself a Master of Magic, Overlord of the Arcane Arts, or something else – he had never once seen her do anything. For as long as he’d known her, and he can’t quite remember the first time he’d ever met her, she’d been telling him more and more details – always offhanded, and always to direct conversation away from his ‘boring life’. He tolerated her desire to be something of a center of attention because she was funny, relatively intelligent, rather cute, and he just felt like he owed it to her – having never seen her with anyone else besides him.

Of course, he never brought this up to her – Hannah was a friend, and he didn’t feel like bringing up anything that might hurt her or lower her opinion of him. For all he knew she had loads of friends and just decided to try and add colour to his life.

Adam had just finished getting ready for his job at the Italian restaurant where he worked when the doorbell rang. A quick check to make sure everything was in place on his uniform and his wallet, keys, and phone were in hand, before heading toward the door. The doorbell proceeded to ring ten more times before he opened it – a short girl with hair the colour of rainbows wearing an outfit that combined nerd-lite in a Doctor Strangefate shirt with an idea of grunge, a flannel shirt wrapped around her waist and jeans over worn work boots, was standing in front of him – finger hovering over the doorbell before pressing it one more time. “Adam!” she said cheerfully, lunging in and wrapping her arms around his waist – nearly knocking them both over. “Good, you’re home!”

Adam smiled, reaching down to hug Hannah for the brief time she let him before the girl broke his embrace and grabbed his hand. “Come on, not much time now!” she continued, not letting him get in a word as she dragged him along, her friend fumbling to get away and close his door.

“Hannah, wait, my door-.”

“You won’t need it, there’s a lot more doors where we’re going.”

“No, I mean – wait, going? I can’t go anywhere, my shift is starting -.”

“In twenty-nine minutes and fifty-three seconds, yes. You don’t need the job anymore.”

“Of course I do! How can I -.”

“You don’t need classes anymore, either!” Hannah finally stopped, whirling around to grin up at Adam, “She’s finally here! Say goodbye to your ho-hum-drum life, Adam! Today,” she whirled, pulling him close and wrapping her arm around him so his arms were pinned against his sides. Hannah’s other arm extended, tracing a small arc in the sky, “Today… you become a sorcerer’s apprentice!”

Adam looked down at Hannah, her eyes glazed and staring off into the distance with a beatific smile on her face. “Hannah… I’m flattered you want to, er, introduce me to your religion… but -.”

“It’s not a religion,” she said softly, still staring ahead with that strange smile.

“… Right, well, first… what are you on and how did you get it?”

She blinked a few times, “Oh, please, you know I don’t do anything like that. Sorcerers can have a vision quest without getting high – which is the smart thing to do. I’ve lost numerous peers when they decided to partake and perceive. Now, you should be excited! I’m going to teach you the mystic arts! I’m going to show you the worlds! Shining! Shimmering! Sp-!”

“You’re doing Disney again.”

“Damn it! Damn that man! And damn the djinn he bound!”

Adam had learned better than to ask, “Alright, so, is there any way this can wait until after my shift is over?”

Hannah looked up at Adam, “I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime, and you’re worried about minimum wage… unbelievable. No, Adam, it can’t wait. I’ve called your boss and said you were sick. Now, give me your keys – we’re going to take your car.”

“Wait, why did my boss believe you? I’ve told her explicitly to never trust anything you say… and you’re not driving my car. I know you don’t have a driver’s license.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and held up her hand, jingling Adam’s keys, “Right – now that that’s settled. Get your ass in the car before I… I don’t know; turn you into a ne- aha… not this time, Python. Just get in.” She pressed the button to unlock the doors and climbed into Adam’s Prius. Adam sighed, following after her – he was already missing work, what would indulging her hurt?

“So, where are we going?” Adam asked, belting in before the Prius suddenly shot backwards, spun around, and burst forward. “What the fuck!” He shouted, watching in terrified astonishment as Hannah pushed the Prius as hard as it would go – the navy blue car making a pitiable whining sound as it swerved between cars and somehow dodged all traffic on the roads. “You’re going to get us killed!”

“Pfft, hardly,” where Adam was forced back into his seat (partly from fear), Hannah was completely relaxed – she could have been doing twenty miles per hour for all the concern she showed as the tires lifted off the ground and the car flew for a few moments down a rather steep hill. “This is cake – try riding a void-roc during a freak normality storm. Now that is when you can be terrified out of your mind.”

“Stop! Stop with the magic bullshit!” Fear was pushing him to this edge, “Magic isn’t real! Void-rocs, normality storms – whatever the fuck those are – aren’t real!”

Hannah scoffed, taking her eyes from the road and staring at Adam – doing nothing to help his nerves. “I’ll have you know magic is real, and a normality storm is when chaos is hammered into order by a divine being and forced across planar realities. As for void-rocs… imagine a bird. Big bird. Size of the Titanic big – and now imagine that it defies causal reality with every beat of its star-fire wings. That should give you a basic idea of what flying one is like.”

Adam stared – Hannah had said things before that made no sense, but now she was speaking on levels that bordered on commitment to an asylum. “Hannah… just… please focus on the road…” he finally managed. If she had finally snapped he decided it might just be best to get to wherever they were going, hope he wasn’t going to die, and hope she’d give him time to call 911.

“Oh, right, that’s a thing…” she looked back at the road – miraculously they hadn’t crashed – and let out a long breath. “Look, Adam – I can understand this is a lot to take in. You’ve lived in this singular dimension all your life and grew up in a time when science was the pinnacle of mortal achievement. Now, in a couple more minutes we’re going to end up at a curio shop in the middle of nowhere – and you get to die.”

Adam just stared at his friend and the matter-of-fact way she said the last words.

He dearly wished for his average life back.

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

He watched as a near constant stream of buildings and traffic gave way to homes, and homes to the occasional house within a large forest until there was near constant forest on either side of the road. Adam frowned, this wasn’t right. He’d driven this way quite a few times when he visited his parents in the country. He stared at these odd surroundings, slowly rolling down the window on the passenger side.

He contemplated trying to jump from the car – but didn’t know the first way how, and figured that it might just end up with him either dead anyways or at the very least with something broken. Instead, he stared at the passing forest and the odd mirage that seemed to occur every now and then – moments where he was sure he saw cars, houses, even people. Then the forest dominated once more. “Why… Why are you going to kill me?” He finally asked, looking over at the girl whom he thought was his friend.

Hannah blinked a few times and looked over at him with a slight tilt of her head – still keeping eyes on the road, much more intent on a seemingly empty road than the packed city streets. “What? I’m not going to kill you. I just said you get to die. By the Nine Hands of the Divine Violence – why do you think dying necessarily implies killing? And why do you think I’d be the one to kill you?” Hannah shook her head, “Fine, exposition time – sorcerers are unique mortals. Our flesh is anchored in this plane – the mortal plane. Our Perception, however, exists primarily in various and sundry other planes – I personally like the name the ‘Outer Kingdoms’. However, to achieve that Perception we have to die – sacrificing a part of ourselves in a binding ritual. So, if anything, you’ll be killing yourself. But, don’t worry, you’ll get better.”

Adam closed his eyes, “You know – I’d probably believe you if you actually ever demonstrated -.”

“Shut up, we’re here.” Hannah turned the car into a wide open field, driving it across grass and stopping it in front of an old, beat-up station wagon. It was pea green with faded faux-wood sidings. A small cardboard sign was planted in the ground next to it – words in thick magic marker reading Baba Yaga’s Boutique – Come for the Curios Stay for the Collision of Space Time.

Adam stared at the sign as Hannah climbed out of the car, then looked at the apparent owner. A tiny old woman – no more than two feet tall – sat dwarfed in a rocking chair that was carved into the likeness of interlocking bones: hands, ribs, legs, and skulls – her hands working quickly to knit a truly massive scarf. Hannah stopped at the front of the car and turned to face Adam, hands on hips with a look of ‘Are you coming or not?’ on her face. Adam slowly left the car, following Hannah over to the woman and her station wagon. Closer he could see the little woman was even older than he thought – her face a mess of lines, her eyes drooping closed and her toothless mouth set into a genial smile. A floral scarf sat on her head, long strands of white hair peeking out of the front. She was draped in a thick red coat, with an equally thick shawl covering her shoulders – making her look like nothing more than a round ball of granny.

“Hello again, dearie!” the old woman called, her voice the gentle tones of a grandmother overlaid with a thick Russian accent. “So good to see you again – and, oh my, have you brought a strapping young chelovek! But you only bring one, and nothing for your dear old Baba! Tut tut, dearie!”

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Baba – we’ve been over this. The last time that was acceptable was two centuries ago. These days there’s too much media – besides, Adam here is going to be my apprentice!”

Baba Yaga gave a small gasp, turning her head to eye Adam up and done – making him feel vaguely uncomfortable, “Hmm… yes, I can see it. He would have been a poor hero – good for you, taking such pity on him and giving him the chance to be something!”

Hannah rolled her eyes but smiled, “Thank you, Baba – anything dangerous on the Other Side?” Baba Yaga’s response was a snort and to lean down and produce another ball of yarn from… Adam didn’t know where. She wouldn’t have been able to reach the ground from her chair, and she had nothing on her seat except herself and her scarf. Hannah just nodded and looked at Adam, “Come along – stay close. Don’t trust anything, except for me. If you don’t think you can trust me, well, you’re already learning.”

She opened the driver’s side backseat door of the station wagon and climbed inside. Adam hesitated, thinking that now was his chance – she had left the keys in the car. He could run. He could drive away and go back to his normal, average, life. “Ooooh, I wouldn’t do that, dearie,” came the kindly voice of the tiny old lady, “A woman scorned is one thing, if that woman can bend the laws of reality to her very whim, that’s entirely another. Now scoot along!”

Adam deflated slightly, it was only a station wagon. He walked over, climbed into the open door, and stumbled onto a dirt road. He looked around for a moment in confusion, then froze. For miles all around there was a massive expanse of stalls and shops. Some reaching all the way into a sky filled with stars and moons and flying things. Others squatting with open doors leading down and down into darkness. He spun around – there was more behind, but hovering in the middle was a small chunk of difference. The difference was shaped like the door of a station wagon and looked out at a vast, dark forest and his little blue Prius.

The difference slammed shut, and there was once again this impossible reality. He turned to look at Hannah, only for a piece of paper to be slapped onto his forehead. His eyes crossed as he tried to focus on it, before it slowly vanished away. “What the h-…” his voice trailed, his eyes stung, the world spun, he felt sick to his stomach. He shut his eyes, took in deep breaths, and when he opened them he wished he hadn’t.

Though buildings had dominated the land, it had felt empty. He and Hannah had been the only people anywhere in sight. Then, part of him felt, they still were the only 'people'. Things filled the once empty spaces. Some were misshapen creatures, huge and bloated and vaguely man-like. Others defied description, masses of chaos condensed into form. Creatures of pure, blue fire. Beings with cracked bodies of stone and iron. Things flew in the skies – things like men, things not like men, and things he wished he’d never seen.

Adam fell back, his senses being overwhelmed by the riot of sights. It wasn’t until a few dizzying moments that he heard the sounds of the gathered crowds, and the smells of the place. He shut his eyes, feeling close to being overwhelmed by everything. Soft hands cupped his cheeks, and warmth pressed against his head. Slowly the sounds, which had been overwhelming and in so many languages, turned into a dull roar – nothing different than that of being in a city crowd. The smells, some pleasant, others vile, and more a mix of both, became normal – the scents of his home, not the hovels humans huddle inside to keep out the darkness, but their world – where they’re raised in blind ignorance.

Adam opened his eyes, he felt tears, and looked into the calm – motherly – expression of Hannah, her forehead resting against his. “I had to perform one charm at a time. I wasn’t sure how they’d interact with your body. Now that I know you won’t mutate or explode…” she moved her hands, taking his and hauling him to his feet. Though he was surrounded by the abnormality of reality, it didn’t feel alien… or not wholly alien. “Welcome to Baba Yaga’s Boutique – the traveling bazaar, and neutral ground of the Outer Kingdoms.”

Adam stared, “You… You aren’t crazy…”

Hannah laughed, “Well -!”

“LITTLE MAGIC MAGGOT!” a voice thundered, an avalanche given words.

Hannah went pale, “Oh, fuck.”

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

“Thou darest display thy face hither!” A creature forced its way through the crowd, hideous and bulging with asymmetrical muscle. A thin, upward hooked nose jutted above a mouth filled with mismatched and misshapen teeth – with a thick tongue lolling out between nonexistent lips. A single bulging eye glared at Hannah and Adam, while a much smaller, squinting eye glared at a nervous looking sphinx just off to the left and back of the ogre. Stray tufts of thick, coarse, and scraggly black hair covered a rhinoceros hide. It hunched and moved like some great ape – long, thick arms resting on the ground, while shorter legs kept it balanced. “Crawling and loathsome! Foul spurious artist! Mother of worms! Child of slugs! Has been an age! An age of wrath and woe! Now mine anger can be sated ‘pon thy bones!”

Adam let out a small whimper – the only sound of his fear… until a dripping followed it. The strong scent of ammonia and liquid fear drawing the bulbous head of the ogre to now stare at Adam – its left eye finally focused on Hannah. It snorted then growled low, “Another! Another grubbing leech! A corpse-feeder’s grub! I’ll shred thine flesh, then thine soul, and glut mine power ‘pon thy remains!”

“Hold!” Hannah shouted – her voice nowhere near the crashing, elemental voice of the ogre. She strode in front of Adam, her eyes narrowed as she stood protectively between him and the beast. “Macrushyo! Macrushyo! Away with you! You were fairly dealt with when I summoned you! I took from you no more than thirteen years! As is taught by the Divine Violence, as laid down by the Lords of the Infinite, and as adjudicated by the Mistress of the Soulflames – this is the right and proper time to take from one of the Denizens Immortal!”

“Thou dare! Thou dare quoth the script of mine kin! Tis thy burden of arrogance, for thou must teach what is known!” Macrushyo bellowed, its heavy fists stamping the ground and cracking it wide. Fissures reached out from either side of it as it lowered its massive head closer – glaring into Hannah’s face. “Thou thieved from me the heart of mine power – leaving naught but a mere shadow of mine strength! Now lay on, vile cretin!” with that Macrushyo reared up, bringing his fists together, to slam them down toward Hannah.

A yelp, a whispered Word and she and Adam both winked out of view to appear ten feet away. A crater formed where they had been standing – bleeding universal fabric into the world. Macrushyo bellowed, pulling his hands from the ground and shifting to charge. Another Word – Adam’s vision swam and he felt sick – and a spear of mathematics plunged forward, striking Macrushyo in the chest. Hannah was still standing in front of him, her hand outstretched and her eyes ablaze with light. “I give you one chance, ogre of old. I give you one choice, child of the Imperfect Violence. Leave me, now, return to the Primordial – cast yourself back to the Avalonian Woods. I swear by the Violence of Math and the Violence of Words that I will leave you nothing more than the lowest gnome.” Her Voice thrummed. Her words dripped with power, scorn, and promise.

Macrushyo, having recoiled from the blow, held itself erect. Hatred burned in its eyes. The wound inflicted by the spear was a dribbling mess – thick, ochre blood oozed from a wound that exposed muscle and bone. It snorted, thick tongue dropping to drag against the wound, sealing it slowly shut. Then it Laughed – a sound that was completely at odds with its form and voice, a gibbering and high-pitched ululation. Macrushyo stamped its fists and feet, “Thou oversteps! Thou makes mockery of thine own power! No spawn of the Lightless World, no matter how they strive to be naught, can slay a Denizen Immortal!”

Adam shut his eyes, curled into a ball and tried not to weep. The Laughter, the Words – they roiled in his stomach, they stabbed into his Id and Ego. He shuddered, he wept, he pissed himself again – he held on, trying not to vomit.

Hannah looked back at Adam; her eyes filled with sympathy, then turned her head once more to the grinning Macrushyo. She drew herself up, her hair whipped around, and everything took a step back – save Macrushyo. Though her body remained small She grew. Her form shifting and growing, She stood as tall as Macrushyo. The Math, the Word, and the Sanity – these were Her form. These were the Hands she had taken. Eyes that were not opened, a Mouth that was not twisted into a growl. Macrushyo recoiled from Her – then She Spoke.

The Words were Not and All. The Words were the End and the Beginning. Macrushyo spoke true – she could not slay a Denizen Immortal – She was not of these worlds enough to ever do so. But She was a student of the Divine Violence. A Wielder of Power, Holder of the Hands – a sorcerer who had moved beyond Life and Dawn, beyond Wisdom and Song, beyond Emotion and yet to reach Blade – but had grasped the Lie of Sanity, the Silence of Word, and the Darkness of Math.

The ogre roared – it had one chance, it struggled through flensing words. It bulled past logic and order. It fought through reason and falsehood. A thick, hooked nail was inches from the serene face of Hannah’s body.

Then it was gone. It was gone in a shrieking, wailing moment of clashing powers.

Her Body diminished, returning to her body. Hannah’s eyes opened, her face was shining with sweat, and she felt weak and lost for a moment. Then a rush of energy filled her, her breathing grew stronger, her skin dried and she looked around with bright and knowing eyes. “Fuckity fuck fuck,” she muttered under her breath, before turning around to kneel next to Adam. Life returned to normal around them, patrons and merchants returning to the haggling of goods and services. “Alright, come on, this is not proper behavior becoming of a sorcerer – even one who is still an apprentice.”

Adam whimpered, his eyes slowly opening to stare in fear at Hannah. “W… What…”

She gave him a small smile, “That’s why I didn’t perform any magic around you – at least nothing of power. Words don’t sit well with mortals – one of the reasons sorcerers are so powerful on the mortal plane is because our Words and our Voice can render extreme pain unto anyone who hears them. Then the desired effect occurs – typically something elemental, it’s always best to keep magic to the basics on the mortal plane. Now come on, we still need to get to where we need to go. I can’t have you hearing any Words.”

Adam groaned - he didn’t want to move. Then a hand closed around the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet, drawing a cry of terror from him. Hannah’s smile was gone, and she was glowering at him. He thought he saw lightning flash in her eyes. “Adam,” her voice was harder, now, “Pull yourself together.” She knew he’d find her being overly harsh – but it was something he needed to disabuse himself of now. Kindness and mercy had their place – but weakness in the Boutique, anywhere in the Outer Kingdoms, could get him killed. The Divine Violence was not kind nor merciful.

His response was to give her a look, halfway between anger and sulkiness. She accepted that and turned away, knowing he’d follow her as she strode through the streets. Enough of the patrons giving her a wide enough berth – out of respect, she knew, not fear. The path left open for her let them reach a small shop in the shape of an ugly toad in nearly no time. A sign hung from the toad’s outstretched tongue: Shoppe of the Song Authorized by the Imperial Magocracy.

“Good, it didn’t decide to move around,” Hannah murmured, before looking back at Adam and offering a lopsided smile, “Sorry about earlier but… well… that exposition can wait, for -.”

“Fuck you,” Adam spat, causing Hannah to blink in surprise. “Fuck you for bringing me here, I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. I’ve been here less than ten fucking minutes -.”

“Time has no meaning here,” she said softly, but he spoke over her.

“- and I’ve almost threw-up, I’ve pissed myself twice, I’ve cried like a frightened child, and I’m pretty sure I’ve nearly died ten times. Oh, right, and I still have to die again! And you’re telling me that you, someone I still thought of as a friend before all of that think you can tell me an explanation – explanation not fucking exposition – can wait until after this? An explanation about how you gave me a look as if you’re my fucking mother and can tell me what to do? What gives you the fucking right?”

Hannah looked at him calmly, “Nobody. Nobody gives me the ‘right’. Yes, I took you from your life – your average life, Adam. Do you know what is wrong with a life like that? Stagnation – as far as I know, you had the same routine each and every day. I’m pretty sure you almost went into a hyperventilation fit when you thought you were scheduled for a different shift! I treated you the way I did earlier, and I promise I’ll do it again, because if you kept up as you were I would be breaking the Law by trying to stop anything from eating you. I know you hate me; you’re going to hate me more as we go along. But remember – I did this so you’d actually live.

“Now, nut up, shut up, and go inside.”

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

The sorcerer and her would-be, and unwilling, apprentice entered through the mouth of the toad. The door shut behind them with a loud, wet belch. Adam glanced around, looking at the pinkish walls that seemed faintly wet, the floor which was a bit too squishy. An odd light filled the cavernous space – the entire place stinking of incense and rotting meat. Wooden shelves were everywhere, placed in haphazard arrangement within the shop – despite his bitterness and anger; he walked toward the nearest shelf – reading the labels beneath opaque jars: Eye of Newt, Toe of Frog, Wool of Bat, Condensed Dreams of Philosopher, Locked Unreal Space, Vegemite.

He blinked a few times at the labels, looking around the place again before walking further in – Hannah at his side and allowing him to now go at his own pace. “Aha, customers!” a voice boomed from further within the shop, “Come along, come along – it’s better to speak with the owner than to gawk. Don’t want to awaken any latent evils by accidentally opening something!” Adam looked down into the back of the shop; lights suddenly flared and gave illumination to a truly obese man. The man looked human, except his mouth was extremely wide above his twenty chins, and his eyes bulged from his bald head in a disquieting fashion. “Aha!” the man croaked, “Aha! Dear Hannah! I haven’t seen you since, oh what was it…”

“Battle of Poitiers, 1356,” Hannah supplied with a smile, “Good to see you again, River King.” She walked forward and around the small counter, embracing the fat man’s paunch as best she could. The big man boomed with laughter, his own arms unable to move to embrace her. Hannah pulled away, holding out an arm, “This is my new Apprentice, or soon-to-be. He still needs to take part in the ritual.”

The River King turned to eye Adam, a sly glint appearing in his eye, “Well, hello, my boy! Don’t just stand there, mouth agape, go on and introduce yourself!” He shifted his bulk to lean forward, Hannah’s eyes widened a fraction – but she hesitated.

Adam first closed, and then opened his mouth, glancing at Hannah before looking back at the River King. “I’m… Adam, it’s a, uh, pleasure to meet you, River King,” he said slowly, looking at Hannah and seeing her visibly relax, a nervous smile on her face.

The River King whipped his head around to eye Hannah for a long moment, before seeming to decide something. His smile returned to something less sly, less predatory, “You’ve schooled him well, Dear Hannah! Ha-HA! The number of apprentices I’ve devoured because of an absent-minded sorcerer couldn’t be counted on an Elder’s hand!”

Hannah shrugged, “Yep, that’s me, epitome of non-absent-mindedness.” She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too forced, “Anyways, River King, I was hoping we could use your shop for the ritual. It’s the safest place I know to Work in the Boutique – and I’m sure the Imperia will respond well to you helping another sorcerer be inducted into the Outer Kingdoms.”

The River King chuckled, the sound still managing to echo through his shop, “The Outer Kingdoms – oh Dear Hannah, oh you sorcerers and your naming of things.” He shook his head, chins one to thirteen wobbling, while fourteen to twenty just jiggled slightly. “Yes, yes, you can use my shop – I suppose you need the binding objects as well, hm? Well, I can supply those and an initial boost of magic – at a discount that is truly robbing myself of any profit!”

Hannah smiled, “Thank you, River King.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and Spoke in a truly alien voice, “The Saint Spoke his Word – and from the mountains of ash grew a valley of life. The Saint Spoke his Math – and the sky turned red and wept its beauty. The Saint Spoke his Sanity – and the world cracked asunder to be made whole.” As she finished, the River King shuddered – and sighed, mouth curling into a beatific smile, “Thus is the Divine Violence reached through Word, Math, and Sanity.”

“Thank you, Dear Hannah – there’s room in the back of the shop,” the River King spread his hands and before him appeared four objects: a curved knife with a razor edge, a ball of flickering fire, a gilded bowl filled with water, and a bottle coloured red with an odd liquid inside. “Now, run along the both of you!” Hannah bowed her head, waving her hand to lift the objects into the air and have them trail behind her. Adam made to follow when the River King’s hand shot out, holding him still and forcing him to look into the bulging eyes of the shop owner. “A word of philosophy, Young Adam – given freely and expectant of nothing in return: It is the Wise Man who fears Death and the Foolish Man who accepts Death as an Old Friend. Keep that in mind, my boy,” he bowed his head, letting go of Adam’s arm and allowing him to hurry after Hannah.

She had been waiting just out of earshot – she had seen the River King stop him, but knew he could do nothing. There was a certain protection afforded to patrons within the Boutique. When Adam reached her they continued on for a few moments in silence, lights flickering to lead the way – but never to illuminate a doorway or alcove. “What did he say to you?” she asked after they had been walking for what felt like only a few moments. Adam blinked, looking down at her and choosing to remain silent out of childish spite before telling her the philosophy word for word. She narrowed her eyes, “Did he ask you for anything for this?”

“Uh, no – he said given freely and expectant of nothing in return. Why?” Adam frowned, “Is this something similar to warning apprentices?”

Hannah gave a slow nod, “That is my fault – I was caught up in the adrenaline of the fight with Macrushyo. No one needs to know your full name – ever. Only a few people know my first name in the Kingdoms, otherwise I name myself Lady of Red Steel.” At Adam’s curious look she shrugged, “At the Battle of Crécy, I spoke a single Word out of fear and at my master’s urging – the Word turned the blades of a company of men-at-arms against themselves. It was an appellation given to me by my master, and one I took a shine towards. The River King and Baba Yaga knowing your first name is fine – both are rather trustworthy in their own ways.”

Adam nodded again, “And what he said to me? About the philosophy… and, I guess, the philosophy itself.”

Hannah mulled on that for a moment, deciding between telling him the truth about both or just one – before realizing she might be able to salve some of the hurts from earlier with honesty. “When one of the Denizens Immortal – that is, anything existent in the Outer Kingdoms – says something is given freely and expectant of nothing in return it means they are trying to help you. By saying those words they cannot act against you for a week and a day. Similarly, you can do nothing against them – it’s a cosmic law that can override even gods. As to the actual philosophy – it is an old saying of the raven-men near the Lost Summit. It’s actually one chiding the Wise – by fearing Death you cannot ascend to the greater glories, the Wise Man should know this but does not because the Wise are blinded by the Hand they Hold above all in the Divine Violence. The Foolish Man, however, is the one who looks at Death and smiles – for it is a Foolish Man who will bypass Wisdom to reach out and take the Higher Hands. I’m surprised the River King gave you that for free – if it wasn’t for his words, I’d almost expect he wanted something from you.”

“But… it’s just words – a philosophy. How does that help me at all?” he paused again, “On top of that – what was it you told him earlier? That… that thing about a Saint?” He found he could barely remember the words she had spoken.

Hannah looked at him sharply, now, “Adam – words have power here – not just the Words spoken by sorcerers, but all words. As for what I said earlier – you’d do well to forget it. It’s not something you need to know of, yet.”

He tried to ignore the part about forgetting – tried to hold onto the memory of what she said, but the tighter he clawed for it the quicker it slipped away until he only had a memory of her speaking something. He huffed, but accepted what she told him and the two lapsed into a slightly more companionable silence than before.

Finally, a light flickered on and a wooden door was revealed – the door slightly ajar and leading into a dark room. Hannah nudged the door open, letting the light in and revealing a room of stone – a smooth stone floor leading into smooth stone walls, which lead up into darkness above. The room was much too large to be in the shop – then again, the hallway they had walked down was also too long to be in the squat stone toad. Hannah stepped inside, the objects her magic carried following her, and Adam followed them. The door shut itself behind them, for privacy sake, and the room brightened.

There was a hearth in the far wall – empty save for ashes and soot. A soft towel was next to it, clean and ready for use. In the center of the room a rug, which had not been there before, was laid decorously – the fabric plush and intended for comfort when sitting on the ground. A pile of chalk was near the door, arranged in an hourglass form and sat in a shallow bowl. “Hm, so far this is a lot nicer than what I had – bloody ground and with the smells of death all around you. Try concentrating through that,” Hannah said with a smile. “Sit on the rug – dead center – I’ll begin prepping everything, don’t want you drawing the wrong symbol and summoning an Elder into your body. That’s awkward for everyone involved… until Madness consumes everything within two realities and obliterates all life.”

Adam paused before sitting down, staring at Hannah as she grabbed a stick of chalk and began to draw designs on the floor beyond the edge of the rug. She began with a triangle – each corner becoming a circle that contained a drawing: one of a flame, one of waves, and the last of a sword. As each was drawn, their corresponding object fell into place in front of Adam – aligned perfectly with the drawing. Next, the drawings became seemingly random and haphazard things. Symbols that hurt the eye, shapes that seemed to crawl and skitter into new shapes the longer one looked, runes that stared with malevolent intent. It wasn’t until the last thing she drew – a circle enclosing everything else – that she was back in the safe geometries he knew.

Hannah dusted her hands – half of the hourglass gone in chalk. “Alright, now, all you have to do is repeat after me,” she waited for Adam to nod and when he didn’t she frowned. “Look… I don’t even know what to say, here. When I was approached by my master with this offer I jumped at the chance. But, being a girl in 1276 France… well, it wasn’t the greatest thing ever. But, Adam, what I’m giving to you… you can see things artists and writers have only ever dreamed of. Vistas forged of flames given off by the death throes of a god-king, undersea mountain ranges crafted by merdwarves from the bones of sea giants, an actual twelve inch sub for only five dollars,” the last one got a snort and a smile from Adam. Hannah smiled a slightly sad smile, “I know you’re scared – when I first employed magic I was more terrified than excited.” She paused, her smile becoming more warm, “But – just think for a moment… can you really say no to the adventure of a lifetime?”

Adam looked at Hannah, a tiny voice in his head telling him to say no. Telling him that this was the last chance, that if he denied her now he could return to his normal life. But, could his life really be normal knowing even the few things he knew now? He looked at her and said slowly, “Guess it’s time to die.”

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Adam blinked. All he remembered were the last words he said – the last moment when he was ready to go through with the ritual and die. Now he was… in his home? He looked around, everything seemed wrong – but nothing was. He walked through the small, cramped living room space – touching everything to see if it was real. Nothing reared up to devour him at the lightest bump – but everything remained as is. The hallway with his bathroom didn’t lead into an endless abyss. His bedroom wasn’t filled with capering monsters talking about philosophy.

Everything was right.

Everything was wrong.

He turned from the bedroom and froze. Standing inside of his doorway was a tall man – he wore a fine English cut suit, his silver hair was slicked back and his steel beard and mustache shown without a hint of rust. His eyes were two molten pools of brass set in a face of cut onyx. He tilted his head, and his mouth cracked as he smiled, “You are The Lady of Red Steel’s Apprentice, correct?” The man’s voice was painstakingly beautiful and sorrowful. Its mere sound forced images into Adam’s mind – birds flitting in the spring and dying in the winter, a great bull frolicking beneath the tiny birds and mourning them in the snow. He gestured with one hand, indicating the living room, “I think you and I should sit and speak.”

Adam hesitated, he licked his lips, “Who… Who are you?”

The figure’s smile became brittle for a moment – the pools of molten brass narrowed briefly. He was searching, and then the smile became genuine and his body relaxed. “I am… Skylark, and let us just say that I am here to help you now that your soon-to-be Master cannot. Please, sit, we have much to discuss,” warmth returned to the voice, and Adam only realized how terrified he had been when the man – this Skylark – had, for all that brief moment, turned suspicious – angry.

Adam just gave a slight nod of his head, his lips pressed together as he walked into his living room and took a seat on one of the thick foam pillows that acted as chairs. Skylark took one opposite of him, folding his legs in an odd fashion and resting his arms on his calves. “I think you have already realized this – but this is not your home. But, I find, it always helps to get that out in the open – not everyone is always on the same page. Now, I welcome you to ask any questions you may have before we get into the deeper mysteries,” he spoke softly and simply – his hands moving slightly, table appearing between them – the table itself covered with an elegant tea service carved of bone with odd pastries. “Please – help yourself, there’s hot Darjeeling in the skull of Caleg Moor, cream and sugar in the skulls of his son and daughter, and truly delicious coconut samosas with gulab jamun – think almost like a donut with that last one.”

Adam had been reaching for the tea pot when he suddenly stopped, looking a bit more closely at it. The sockets were disguised with two spouts emerging from – the handle was shaped from the hilt of an odd weapon, the hilt and blades forming a U-shape. The other two skulls were similar – though, it seemed – the sugar skull, the smallest of the three, just had gems inset into the sockets – not requiring a spout.

Adam decided to just eat the samosas.

Skylark smiled, pouring himself tea and adding quite a bit of cream and sugar before reclining back to sip at the steaming drink. “Now that we are in a mostly civilized setting – feel free to ask me anything you wish to know. The mysteries of the ritual, these,” his voice became amused, “’Outer Kingdoms’ – anything.”

Adam popped a samosa into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before wiping crumbs from his lips, “Well, first… what are you?”

Skylark choked slightly on his tea – swallowing what he could before laughing, “The temerity! Well, considering we are on your thought plane – I suppose it is only fair I answer. Though, I do caution you in the future of being so blunt. I am one of the Lords of the Infinite – think of us almost like an oligarchy, save that we only rule by right of Violence. I Held the Hand of Blade and slew my brother, the Iron Cross, in single combat and was granted his position as Third of the Lords. Next question.”

Adam frowned slightly, but continued on, “These… Outer Kingdoms, what are they?”

“A name given by a sorcerer – though, I suppose, you want more than that. The Outer Kingdoms are Infinity – they extend far beyond even the knowledge of my kin. Only the Divine Violence, the Imperfect Violence, and the Forgotten Violence know the scope of infinity. These are quantum realities, demiplanes, mindscapes, and pocket dimensions. Before you ask – because we’re running out of time to chat and I need you to focus on the ritual shortly: the Divine Violence is a God-Concept, it is a sentient theological philosophy. The Nine Hands of the Divine Violence are: the Death of Life, the Fall of Dawn, the Mockery of Wisdom, the Absence of Song, the Shadow of Emotion, the Lie of Sanity, the Silence of Word, the Darkness of Math, and the Blade. Once I leave here you’ll see which Hands you Hold.

“The Imperfect Violence is the creation of the Divine Violence – and it is the direct creator of all life, other than Angels. The Imperfect Violence attached itself to the Primordial, the Ignorance, the Last Wish… etc. and from those it gave birth to life: fey, humans, djinn, and so on. The Forgotten Violence is the other creation of the Divine Violence, and it is the creator of Angels. The Forgotten Violence has long been lost – only the Angels still know what it was and still cling to the tenets set down during the death throes of its creation. That is all you need to know on those – next question.”

Adam furrowed his brow, they were almost out of time? “Well, what do I have to do for this ritual?”

Skylark nodded, taking a sip of his tea, before answering. “You have already done the necessary part – though, I suppose, the trauma of the event has made you forget. So you won’t be surprised when you wake up, you have currently sliced out half of your heart and pledged it – and half of your soul – to the Divine Violence. Doing so has brought me here – think of me as a representative of the Divine Violence – to help you understand as much as I can what you are getting into. After you and I are finished here, you’ll walk through your front door and… well, I’m not sure. The Divine Violence has many mysteries – and the Path of the Sorcerer is one of the most closely guarded. Not even you will remember what has occurred, instead only know which Hands you Hold.

“Now, I am sad to say, we are out of time.” Skylark stood and stretched, the sound of boulders grinding against one another following the motion. “I hope to see you emerge from this whole and as close to sanity as any of your kind could ever be,” Skylark bowed his head slightly, and then was gone – the tea service following his vanishing act and leaving Adam alone in his living room with his front door standing ominously before him.

Part of him knew he couldn’t go back – he had to open the door or…

Or…

He shoved that thought aside, stood and walked toward the door. He reached for the handle and pulled the front door open to be momentarily blinded by light. All around him his room cracked like glass – jagged lines cutting through the fabric of his mind and shattering piece-by-piece the remnant of his average life until he was left standing in a void. Darkness hung with stars surrounded him. The light from the stars enough to see by as he looked around, trying to find some indication – any indication – of what was about to happen.

Then fire filled his vision.

As the flames died away a creature stood before him. A head crowned with antlers, looking vaguely like an el –

Caribou

The word came from nowhere. A caribou-headed creature in full armour that looked as if it had stepped from the set of 300. A long spear – the Blade half again as long as the haft – was clutched in one callused fist, while a shield forged of Song and Math was strapped to the opposite arm. Ancient eyes looked down into the nervous face of Adam.

It is alright, Child of Imperfection and Ignorance. I mean you no harm. I am your guardian and guide. I am your true soul. The soul of a warrior. The soul of a caribou. Do not laugh – these are intertwined in the Scheme of All that Never Was. The warrior – the shield and sword who would stand before the light. The caribou – the sacrifice to preserve and allow life to go on.

There was a wry tone to the words-that-were-not.

My Daughter was somewhat wrong when she said you did not have what it took to be a hero. By the measure of your world, you could have been a hero – an underdog. But you are no longer wholly of your world. You are of the Worlds born by My Hands. But, you have saved yourself – by accepting the gift from your Master you can be something great.

A hand extended from the creature – his soul – and was held before him. Blade and shield still clutched tight to the body of the avatar.

Become a Holder of Hands.

Adam reached a tentative hand out.

Then he screamed.

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Adam was still screaming as his eyes snapped open, his body convulsed, and the bloody wound in his chest burst into incandescent unlight then sealed shut. He fell back – his back in almost as much pain as his chest – his bones felt wrong, his throat was raw, and his chest was as cold as flame. His body was slick with blood and sweat. He closed his eyes, moaning in pain, before rolling over and vomiting everything he’d eaten for breakfast across the floor.

“That’s… normal,” Hannah said slowly, kneeling at the edge of the magical circle – broken. She took the towel, wetted in cool water, and slowly wiped clean the blood, sweat, and vomit. “Take some time, get your Self back,” she was speaking in soft and soothing tones, still wiping him clean where she could – more towels appearing to continue the task when one was too soiled.

Whenever wet cloth was pressed against him he shivered, feeling weaker, it wasn’t until the wet cloth was taken away that he felt normal again. “What…” he croaked, his mouth dry, he tried to swallow and choked. Hannah shushed him, pressing a bottle to his lips. He drank greedily, forcing himself not to gag at the thick, sticky and salty taste of whatever she just gave to him. As the bottle pulled away he gasped, feeling much better. His vision cleared and he was looking at a red bottle – empty. “… What did you just give me?” he asked, instead of his original question.

“Judging by the smell… I think this was the essence of a succubus, or incubus… really, the two are interchangeable,” Hannah shrugged, setting the bottle aside and looking at Adam’s suddenly green face. “Oh, no, it’s… well, it feels that way but… look, it’s not what you’re thinking. I mean, it is, at its core, because that’s… sorta what they do to get their power but… Look, it’s magic. Just shut up and accept it.”

Adam just swallowed and shuddered, “Never… Never again from one of them. God… never again.” He sat up slowly, wincing in pain – but even that excruciating feeling dulled to something approaching tolerable, then just to… warmth. “Alright… now, what happened? I know ”

There was a flash of light behind his eyes

An onyx-faced man smiling, “You have cut out half of your heart, and with it half of your soul…”

“I cut out my heart, half of it, and my soul but… I don’t remember anything else.”

Hannah nodded slightly, “Also normal. The ritual was nothing special – you swore your soul by fire, all that it illuminates and consumes, and then consumed the flame. You swore your body by water, all that it nourishes and all that it drowns, and drank the water. You swore by the blade, all the lives it defends and all the lives that it takes, and then – well – cut out your heart. Beyond that, I have no idea. Hell, I barely remember what happened during my ritual.” She set the last towel aside, then glanced over to Adam and grinned, “Soooo? What Hands? Hm?” From a great and powerful sorcerer to a child talking about Christmas gifts.

Adam furrowed his brow, closed his eyes and

A great Blade. A shield of Song and Math.

He blinked and he spoke in a voice that was not his, “The Song eternal – absent from ears –.”

Hannah made a face.

“The Dark Math – bringing its light of knowledge -.”

Hannah made another face, a good one this time.

“The Blade – the sword that cuts two ways.”

Hannah’s good face turned into one of absolute shock, her jaw dropping open and her eyes almost bugging out of her head. “B-Blade?! You have Blade?! That’s… you! YOU! Fucking… Wait… Math and Blade?! Adam! You’re…” she ran hands through her rainbow hair, taking a deep breath to calm her excitement. “Adam… if you had Blade alone you could probably become a terrifying Holder. But Blade and Math… I thought I lucked out when I had the Prime Tetrarchy. But… well… shit…” she grinned, “Ha… Haha! HA! Take THAT Amyntas! Thinking I’d never amount to anything! Well fuck you too, wherever you are!” Hannah was grinning triumphantly despite Adam’s blank stare, “Right – well, first, let’s get you some clothes. Something that fits your new identity as a Sorcerer!”

They finished cleaning him up – his chest left mostly bare, considering he had gotten caught up in the excitement of the ritual and just sliced through the fabric of his black button-up shirt. The hallway was nowhere near as long as it was last time, both coming into the shop proper in only a few steps. The River King gave them each a genial wave as he spoke with a tall figure swathed in robes – a squalling human child in between them. Adam only gave it the most cursory of glances before they exited Shoppe of the Song and headed back out into the Boutique.

This time nothing seemed to faze him as they wandered through twisting paths and past scenes of bartering and haggling. He watched as an ogre was shoved to the ground, screaming in agony as a creature that looked vaguely like a centaur – stripped of all its flesh and screeching from both its human and horse mouths – began to tear the ogre to shreds.

“Huh, I think I’m finally getting acclimated to all of this…” he said pleasantly, a small smile on his face. He felt lighter – almost entirely carefree.

“No, you’re just in a severe state of shock,” Hannah replied simply, almost cheerfully. “You’re brain is so overwhelmed that it can’t entirely process everything right now, it’s going into a defensive state where it’s compartmentalized and suppressed all of your horror. The shock of dying and being reborn does that to all sorcerers. Give it a few centuries, you’ll be going along as normal and then you’ll break down screaming in abject horror as your brain finally decides you’re ready to handle everything you’ve seen. You become a gibbering wreck for quite a while, babbling incoherently, sobbing, and overall having a severe nervous meltdown. Then in, oh, about fifty years you’ll be back to normal and you’ll finally be ready to cope with everything you’ve encountered.

“Bright side of all of that – insanity is considered a valuable commodity, you’ll be taken well care of and you’ll spout off random philosophies, portents, and all the other goodies that come with magical-induced insanity. So, there’s that to look forward too!”

Adam just blinked a few times, never breaking stride as he thought on those words, “I’d like to be a seer, I suppose.” His tone was mild, just a bit cheerful.

The two came to a towering wooden shop – the building extending nearly ten stories up before very obviously branching out at the ninth story. The entire thing was hung with a massive shirt slowly wafting in the breeze of the Boutique. Stitched into the shirt were the words: A Stitch in Time. Hannah and Adam entered, a squat green toad-like creature with batty ears opened the door for them – its clothes looking like those worn by doormen at a high-class apartment.

The interior of the store was… nothing that special. Adam vaguely thought they needed to clean more, owing to the numerous amounts of webs that seemed to litter every inch of the ceiling. Then a creature with the upper body of a beautiful woman and the lower body of a hideous spider skittered along, depositing a box filled with clothes in front of another of the green creatures – never breaking her stride. “Third floor is men’s clothing, I’ll be on the seventh floor, that’s where they take custom orders. I’ll have us looking like sorcerers yet!” Hannah said happily, leading Adam toward the ‘elevators’. Huge wicker baskets that were lashed to pulleys with thick webs – two of the green creatures hauling on the webs to let the baskets ascend and descend.

Adam stopped off at the third floor and waved good-bye to Hannah as the basket was hauled up to the seventh. He browsed about for a bit before finding exactly what he wanted, and as he pulled it from the rack another immediately appeared. He was surprised that anything should surprise him, but took the same shirt and pair of pants from the rack ten more times, eleven for the shirt, and then looked for the counter. A signpost was set-up nearby, and he walked over to it to get his bearings.

Exchange 12 Giant’s Stride East
Enchanted Sock Forest 5 Giant’s Stride West
Boxers of Glory 900 Giant’s Stride Northwest
Shoe Inn 3 Giant’s Stride Behind You
Cologne Lake 15 Giant’s Stride Slightly to the Left and Up
Check-Out 1 Giant’s Stride to the Left, Then Take it Back Now, Two Hops, and You’re There

Adam made a mental note to find out how far a Giant’s Stride was, then turned to his left and started forward. He’d walked nearly two miles before running into another signpost.

You Didn’t Take it Back, Stupid. Half a Giant’s Stride back, Two Hops, Check-Out

He blew a breath of frustration, turned around and walked half of the distance he’d traveled, hopped twice, and blinked as on the second hop gravity stopped functioning for a brief moment, until he flipped upside down in midair and landed on what was the ceiling. A donut-shaped counter was directly in front of him and slightly to the right – one of the green things was waiting and looking at Adam expectantly through a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, a long nail tapping the ivory countertop. Adam walked over, set the clothes down and waited as the creature set each one aside, muttering to itself before nodding its head and eyeing Adam. “Payment required – the firstborn child, but we also accept meta-knowledges, divine grants, the lives of artists, a dragon’s screaming tongue, and Visa,” its voice was a phlegm-filled hiss.

Adam fished into his wallet, pulled out his Visa and passed it over to the check-out creature, a quick swipe and the creature passed the Visa back and bagged up most of the clothes. Adam took one of the shirts, stripping off his old one, and replacing it with an exact copy of his work uniform. He took his bag and a fleshy receipt still dripping, then rode a basket up to the seventh floor.

Unlike the third, the seventh was much easier to navigate – the green creatures rushing up to Adam and trying to pull him into multiple directions. One with a vaguely Italian accent and slicked back moss for hair almost succeeded in imprisoning him in a suit of armour when a sharp whistle dispersed them. “Bah, goblins – give them any task involving commissioned sales and they fight like dogs and goblins over each customer,” the speaker was one of the spider-women, her eyes watching as the goblins cowered aside. She smiled up at Adam, her hands folding and fingers steepling. “Is there anything I can help you with, young man?” she asked gently, one set of eyes looking him up and down slowly as the other remained locked with his. Her tongue slithered out to lightly lick over her mandibles, “I’d be happy to clothe you personally… I’ve been told I’m the most… thorough, of my sisters.”

Adam blushed and cleared his throat, “Ah… th-thank you but…” His brain almost broke there, it screamed at home momentarily to be horrified by her offer. Then, thanks to the severe shock, it shut that down and he only felt oddly attracted and flattered. “My Master – Lady of Red Steel – has already commissioned clothing for me… I think,” he murmured, looking hesitantly at the woman as he spoke.

She just shrugged, smiling wide as she extended a long fingered hand, “Well, another time then… and if you two are staying in the Boutique for a bit, well, you know where to find me, handsome.” He took her offered hand and she lead him along the sales floor, they stopped at a small door inset in a massive web-work, “I’m the Weaver of Souls – and you are?”

Adam was momentarily flustered as Weaver just waited, staring at him with a small smile. “Uh… the… uh… Lord… Lord Voltron,” he said – a slight inflection to the end almost making the statement a question.

Weaver laughed lightly, her legs skittering forward to let her press close and whisper into his ear, “I can’t wait to see the Lord Voltron in his full glory…” he shivered – or shuddered – and she skittered off, leaving him to go through the door in the massive web and shut it behind him.

Adam walked a few steps before realizing that he kind-of-sort-of made a date with a spider-woman. “I’ve been here for who knows how long, and I’ve had more luck with women here than back on Earth,” he muttered ruefully, before following the passageways – each conveniently having a sign that could be averaged out as saying This Way, Stupid or No, Wrong Way, Idiot. After a few wrong turns – one giving him a full glimpse of the unrestrained and unclothed incandescent form of what he’d later learn was a minor godling – before managing to overcome the feelings of raw emotion and making it to where Hannah was waiting calmly at a check-out counter. This one with a line extending into darkness in either direction, though they were – thankfully – next. “How goes the sewing?” Adam asked as he sidled up alongside Hannah.

She turned, “Oh, you know, you wait an eternity for it to get done – and then you have a line… to… is that the same shirt you were wearing earlier?” She asked, turning to fully face him.

Adam glanced down, “Yeah – though it’s a lot more comfortable.”

“You have the scope of fashion from the multiverse… and you choose to wear your work uniform?”

“It’s comfortable.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I also think I might have a date…”

“What?” Hannah looked at him in shock, “With who? With what?”

“One of the uh… I’m not sure what they’re called. Seamstresses, I guess. She introduced herself as Weaver of Souls, she was kinda cute… for a spider… thing.”

“Well, look at you, a date with an Arachnean – try not to break her heart when you finally have that nervous breakdown, I’ll take her side in hating you,” Hannah said lightly as they shuffled forward – a former client flying screaming through the air above their heads. “Wait, she introduced herself, what did you call yourself?”

Adam waved a dismissive hand, “Don’t worry, I made-up a name.”

Hannah stared, “Was it a name from your actions or -.”

“What? No… I thought you just made-up a name, so I’m Lord Voltron.”

“… To her. You’re Lord Voltron to her. You’re the Lying Nameless to everything else, now,” Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose, “Shoulda told you… my fault. I got caught up in being on top of the demiplane. Adam, your title-name isn’t entirely chosen by yourself. There’s an action that goes along with it the first time you’re ready to adopt one. So, your title-name is the Lying Nameless, which means you have to make up a name for yourself with every introduction. Once again, my fault… dumbass.” The last word was said to him, despite it being Hannah’s fault.

“Well… that kind of sucks.”

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Eventually, the two departed A Stitch in Time and made their way with their shopping bags out into the street. Hannah was murmuring to herself, going over anything else that she might have neglected to mention to Adam.

Adam, meanwhile, was taking in all the sights – when he stopped and stared at a thing of Terror. Tall, armoured in plate the colour of ash and embers, his skin seemingly made of marble and gouged from deep scars that turned a thing of beauty into one of ugliness. Half a head of hair crowned the creature, the short strands a salt-and-pepper in colouration, matching the short beard that covered its jaw and lips. Two great wings, the colour of ash and darkness, were unfurled behind the Angel. Its head slowly turned, eyes like burning embers focusing on Adam. The two stared for two heart beats before Adam was forced to look away, Hannah’s hand clutching his jaw to jerk his head painfully away from the Angel.

She looked past him, waiting and holding her breath. Slowly the scarred and burned head turned away to go back to looking out upon the crowd. “Praise All That Never Was… you almost got yourself killed!” she blinked a few times, “Also my fault… I need to make note cards for both of us…” she pulled Adam along by his chin, glancing back occasionally to make doubly sure the Angel was still focused away. Once they were safely out of view, she finally released his chin and blew out a long breath, “Right… so what did you think of your first Angel?”

Adam rolled his jaw for a few moments, wincing at the pain before saying, “I… didn’t like it. At all. That’s an Angel?”

Hannah nodded her head, “Well… one stripe of them. That’s an Ash Legion Angel – think Old Testament times ten thousand. One of them – a Centurion – leveled an entire demiplane, two hundred million souls wiped out in the blink of an eye – an entire world-island turned into ash and glass. It took a God-King to kill the Centurion, and even then, the God-King herself was slain in the process. I guess Baba Yaga wanted extra muscle for policing the Boutique – thankfully, they adhere to her cosmic laws while stationed in the Boutique. But, as a future note, never lock eyes with one of the Ash Legion – they take it as a challenge and a display of dominance and will charge you… you know, like a world-destroying silverback gorilla.”

Adam just stared at Hannah for a few moments, “There anything else I should be on the lookout for?” His voice was somewhat terse – nearly challenging a creature that could, apparently, level worlds at a whim was just enough to pierce the shock, if only slightly.

“Uh… yeah, if you see a scriptorium around, lemme know – I need to buy parchment to make us those note cards I was talking about earlier,” Hannah looked around before heading back into the street with a slightly miffed Adam following her. “Should probably also find a room or the night – I keep meaning to get a permanent place, here, but it always slips my mind… funny that, eh?”

Adam bit his tongue and ignored the sudden twitch of the muscles at the corner of his eye.

Merchants called to the two as they threaded their way through the streets, pushing victuals from far-off realms, fabrics of space-time, reclaimed treasures from all the Kingdoms, and other mundanities. “Alright, look for a huge ruckus that might resemble a small war – that’ll either be an inn or a gambling den, in either case there should be rooms availa-whoa…” Hannah stopped as a giant went flying through the wall of a building to slam against the façade of the far building.

It heaved itself up, heavy breasts swaying and thick beard laced with blood and spittle. The giant reached a hand back, ripping out a chunk of stone and hurling it back from whence it came, bellowing in outrage. The stone vanished briefly, before it was returned – the giant narrowly avoiding the heavy stone. Another bellow, two its arms reached down and hauled up more chunks of stone, while the other two drew a massive, chipped knife and a polished wooden club. “Come on out an’ face me Li’l Man!” it shrieked in a deep voice, its thick paunch swayed beneath its sagging breasts. It clashed knife and club together, hacking grooves in the wood.

Its challenge was answered, a short – slightly rotund – old man walked from within the shattered wall of the initial building. A dark blue turban, embroidered with gold, sat firmly on his head. A thick white beard extended down toward his own paunch, wrapped carefully around the light blue and gold fabric of his belt. His teak skin was heavily lined, and his dark brown eyes seemed more tired than angry. Long robes of the same dark blue as his turban extended down to just below his knees, pale pants extended down to slightly curled, golden slippers. A long, curved blade rode on one hip, while the other had a smaller knife tucked through the belt at his hip. “We have waged this battle before, Bakasur. Each time I have defeated you, and yet again you wish to fight?” the old man shook his head, “I give you one more chance – let this end peaceably.”

The giant – Bakasur – bellowed and clashed its weapons together again, stones slamming and crumbling into the ground. “There can be no peace! Li’l Man! I’ll rip ya flesh! I’ll shred ya bones! I’ll leave ya wishin’ for death in my stomach!” the giant took a step forward; the shoulders of the old man sagged briefly before squaring. Bakasur took two steps forward, swinging with its club in an upward stroke while the two stones came downward – seeking to crush the man between the weapons.

A single clear note rang out for a moment, before the giant was flying backwards again. The stones shattered in its bleeding hands, the club gouged as if struck by multiple blades. The old man still stood, his hands crooked into claws as he glared at the beast. “Bakasura – it who devours innocence and the frail, the worm that deceives and feasts on the dead. I stand defiant before you, as I have five times before, and as I shall till the End of All That Once and Is and Shall,” his eyes flared and Hannah let out a whimper. The giant, hearing its True name, shrieked in rage and hurtled forward. Its first hands digging the ground with its feet while it’s second set were raised, ready to strike.

The old man made a single, sublime motion.

A blade of the Eternal Nothing cut forward as Bakasura charged – carving the giant in two. Its needle-fang overfilled maw was still open in its hate as it slid apart and the halves slid across the ground, heaving it up on either side of the perfectly still old man. He looked at the two parts, the rage in his eyes dying back to the reserved sorrow. “Until we clash again, Old Demon,” he said – almost fondly – with a shake of his head before returning through the destroyed section of wall into the place where the altercation began.

Activity had died at the brief clash, but once again business returned to normal. The owners of the two destroyed buildings shouting at each other as tiny creatures scrabbled to begin repairing the damage.

“… What the fuck was that?” Adam managed five minutes after the two owners had finished their thirty minute shouting match.

“That… That was a Heroic…” Hannah said softly, wiping tears from her eyes. She grabbed Adam’s hand, dragging him along as she hurried toward the warzone’s start, throwing open the door and looked around. She spotted the form of the man – the Heroic – at a table, a cup of steaming hot tea in front of him, as well as a plate of breaded fish and long noodles. Hannah dragged Adam over, stopping out of range of the old man who looked over at the two of them more out of curiosity than anything else, “S-Sir?”

The man offered a slight smile, “Yes, my dear?”

“That… was utterly beautiful seeing a Heroic in action like that.”

The man’s head tilted slightly and he chuckled, “An odd thing to say, Little Sorcerer.” He looked from Hannah to Adam and inclined his head, Adam remaining silent, “Is that all, though? Wishing to congratulate me on my victory?”

Hannah licked her lips, “Well… I was wondering, could we join you for dinner?”

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Agnus Dei

He stood in all of His Glory. Panoply of War and Thought arrayed His form. He was muscle sculpted into Art and Death, a masterpiece of the Ultimate End. He was Ravana, the ‘Demon’ King. Master of the Giants, Lord of Lords, Warrior-Poet and Artist-Murderer. His eyes burned with Unchecked Thought, His lips were twisted to Dismiss. His onyx hair was oiled and threaded into long bands, each ending with the skull of a worthy foe.

This Great Giant, this King of Death, looked down upon the form that stood before Him. Compared to the Great Ravana, this creature was a small thing. Not even when He had treaded the Lightless World an Age Past did He ever think of these creatures as tiny. But this one was – it was tiny, and old, and fat. A ruby hand was lifted, cupping His chin as the Demon King sat, His forked tongue trailing over the sharp points of His tusks. “Who is it that comes to My Court?” His voice was honey dribbled over corpses, thunder that was muffled by silk.

Ajeet, no more than the size of the Great King’s toe, looked up into the thunderclouds that hid the eyes of the Giant and bowed his head. “O Great Demon King – Master of the All-Life, Warlord of the Giant Host, I am Ajeet – Son of Yashbir of the land of Lanka where you once claimed dominion,” Ajeet remained bowed, giving the due respect to the Great King.

Ravana’s head tilted slightly, mountains cracked and trembled in terror at the motion. “Yes… Lanka…” He rumbled, and in that moment memories returned to a timeless mind. “Lanka…” the Demon King spat, rising from its throne, shaking loose many of the skulls upon which he sat. “Lanka… Rama! The foul accursed Rama! My traitorous Son! He who turned upon his Father for the love of a mortal woman,” a fist slammed down – skulls from a thousand thousand thousand beasts went scattering to the Winds of Change. Ravana rose from his throne, “Who are you, Ajeet son of Yashbir, to bring up such memories of betrayal!?”

Ajeet bowed again, “I am nothing more than a humble mortal, Great Ravana. I have come to your Court for I know you have seen Much and All but never Some. I have questions that only the Great King may know. Please, may I ask you these questions, O Lord of Giants?”

The ground trembled, the skies burned and tore, and the heavens wept blood. It took Ajeet a moment to realize that the monstrous god before him was laughing. Ravana swept His hand down and plucked up Ajeet between two thick-nailed fingers. The small mortal was transferred to the palm of one of the Great King’s hands, and lifted up so he could stare closely into the face of the Demon King. It was a face both human and not, demonic and beautiful, angelic and terrible. The elements themselves were carved into the lines of Ravana’s face, the light and darkness of the heavens burned in His eyes. “A curious little creature are you, Ajeet son of Yashbir. Why would a mortal know this of Me?”

Ajeet bowed in the palm of Ravana’s hand, mindful of the great rivers that flowed across the palm of the giant. “I would know this, O Great King, because I have come to these worlds – these worlds of beauty and terror – and I am Lost. What I have known all my life, I now find untrue. I am frightened, Great King, I need reassurance – or to have my false beliefs stripped away and replaced with truth.”

Ravana nodded His head and settled back into His throne – crushing beneath it twenty kingdoms that had risen in the eternity since He stood. “Then ask your questions, Ajeet son of Yashbir, and I will answer them as best I can,” Ravana rumbled, scouring twelve worlds of three false-gods with the beautiful destruction of his voice.

Ajeet began without preamble, “I was born into the religion of the Sikhi. I was taught that God was without form, without time, and could not be seen… but since I have been Here I have seen great beings – such as You – who defy this logic. How could it be that my God cannot be seen while all others can?”

Ravana rumbled, fingers rubbing at His chin – five stars died as He contemplated the question. “Simple – you have witnessed gods and God-Kings, but not God. God, as you believe, exists simply in the Divine Violence. The Creator. She that is All that Never Was. He that is the End of All That Once and Is and Shall. You seek what cannot be sought in an effort to Know. But mortals cannot Know, as It does. You can only Know as much as We Know,” Ravana nodded – this answer sufficient.

“Then next, King of Death, what is Here? I have seen worlds that I can barely comprehend – many like mine, others not at all. Where am I in the universe, Lord Ravana?” Ajeet asked – begged – for this knowledge. The last answer had comforted him somewhat – but he was still a mortal with mortal fears, and hopes, and dreams.

Ravana laughed – and brought life from the Void. “Here is the Rock – the Primordial Forge. Here is where My Father was Forged and where I was Forged and where My Sons and Daughters have been Forged. This is the land of Frost and Flame where the Cosmic Slag comes to be Purified and Shaped. You are in the Universe, Ajeet son of Yashbir. This is My home – there are none like it. But you tread upon the Twisting Paths that span the reaches of the Cycle – the Eternal Remains of the Fatal Birth of the Divine Violence.”

Ajeet frowned, slumping into the hand of Ravana and shaking his head. “I thank You for Your answers, Demon King, but I cannot understand them… how can I accept this knowledge if I cannot know it?”

Ravana lowered His head, giving a sad smile to Ajeet son of Yashbir. “Child of Imperfection and Ignorance – you cannot accept this knowledge because you have only just arrived. As it is with all things, from time comes wisdom and from wisdom comes knowledge. You are old by the standards of your kind – I can see it in the white of your beard and the lines of your face. But that is the obsession of your kind. Time. There is never enough when you’re old and too much when you’re young. Let Me tell you of time, Ajeet son of Yashbir. Since we have spoken I have given thought-birth to four hundred worlds and watched all of them die. Each has lasted for more than fifty billion years before I swallowed their suns.

“You are in the Lands of the Divine Violence – those that were born of everything but Ignorance and Time. You must have thought only minutes have passed – but eons have died into dust since I retook My seat. You question everything – and this is the mark of a teacher. But you must realize that now you must learn again, you must become the student on this Longest of Paths. Tread the Twisting Paths, Child of Imperfection and Ignorance, and return to Me when you Know the Truth of My answers.” Ravana rose as He finished speaking and knelt onto the ground, shattering the hopes and dreams of nine billion Elder Gods, and placed Ajeet son of Yashbir lightly upon the ground, “I expect to see you never again, Ajeet son of Yashbir – for if I do then I’ll know you have not Learned.”

Ajeet left the palm of Ravana – the trek having taken him fifty years and a day by the reckoning of mortals – and bowed as he finished scaling the side of Ravana’s hand. “I thank you again, O Great Demon King, I hope I am not too old to Learn,” with those words, Ajeet son of Yashbir departed the Rock and once more stepped onto the Twisting Paths.

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Hannah stared open-mouthed at Ajeet, her food having been forgotten and crawled away to hide in some dark corner – Adam could vaguely see that it had formed its own microcosm of the Boutique within that corner and was torn between curiosity in that and wonderment at Ajeet’s story. “You Spoke to a God-King in their True Form?! How… I mean… I know Heroics are on another level but… you… how?!”

Ajeet blinked a few times, sipping at milk having stopped at his initial glass of tea. “I walked up and spoke to Him; I didn’t feel like it was any great feat… He was very kind, not at all like the others who I encountered. Did you know that his eldest children have asserted themselves as God-Kings as well? Ymir and Surtr were quite rude – though it was amusing to set them at one another, a bit of Elemental Frost and Eternal Flame here and there and two Planes clashed! Aha – it was a spectacular sight!”

Hannah’s eyes widened further, “You caused the Planar Convergence that reshaped the Elemental Archipelago and atomized the Royal Planar Council?!”

Ajeet scratched at his chin through his beard and nodded, “I suppose I did. Admittedly, I didn’t know that the Royal Planar Council was anywhere close to the Elemental Archipelago – or that it would embroil the other God-Kings of the Archipelago. Though, to be fair, the new continental demiplane that has been shaped is far nicer – very few extremes, a good spot for a picnic.”

“I… I can’t believe this! It’s an honour to meet a Heroic of such renown!” Hannah babbled – and continued to babble, while across the room a violent coup had occurred and the microcosm was in flames, the heads of the royal line were being decapitated by an axe made of pure nothingness.

Adam tore his eyes away from the bloody spectacle – the tiny, severed heads still screaming and looked back at Ajeet with Hannah still sputtering and answering anything she asked. Ajeet shook his head and looked at Adam, “You’ve been rather quiet, young man – and don’t seem anywhere near as engrossed as your friend here.” Ajeet said conversationally – Hannah still holding a very excited, fangirlish, conversation with herself.

Adam shrugged slightly, “Well… according to her I’m in a severe state of shock. So very few things are registering. Though your story is mighty impressive, sir. Though I am quite curious what the ramifications of your actions were – you said this… former Archipelago is now a continent and it’s radically changed, does… well, does that have any impact on the worlds?”

Ajeet pondered the question for a few moments, “It does and doesn’t. Think of the former Archipelago as a series of minor kingdoms ruled over by vicious and power hungry princelings – each claiming to be something far greater than they were. They were, unto themselves, a warzone of Epic proportions prior to my ignition of the Frost-Fire War. At the end of that none of the original ‘God-Kings’ were left standing and the Archipelago was so damaged that it warped and fused into what is now known as the Forge of Seasons. It is also ruled over by a single God-King, Vel-Kaana – Queen of the Solstices, from my few visits there she is much like Granny – kindly and mostly keeping to herself, but backed by Terrible Power.” Ajeet sipped at more of his milk, smiling at the taste. “But, beyond that… I figured from my story you’d understand that nothing is eternal, and nothing matters – save for the Divine Violence and its Children – and even then the Forgotten Violence is reckoned for dead.”

“So, there’s nothing like… climate change or…” Adam trailed off at the blank stare Ajeet gave him, “Uh… just… how old are you, sir?”

Ajeet laughed, “What a question! Well, let’s see… I was born on the 5th of August in the year 1446, and converted to the worship of Sikhi as a young man in my thirties.”

Adam blinked, looking first at Ajeet – an elderly appearing man – and then at Hannah – a girl appearing his own age. “So… you’re younger than her… how?” Adam asked, pointing at Hannah as he asked the question – confusion writ on his face.

Ajeet laughed, “Well, I can only guess that she had entered the Worlds younger than I and has spent very little of her time back Home. Whereas I arrived an old man – death near at hand – and was revitalized upon entering these new Lands. I have not returned since then – instead spending my time here.” His lips twisted in wry amusement at the word ‘time’. “Though I have been assured quite a few times, by both bitter friends and dear enemies alike, that if I were to return for a time I would suffer no ill-effects. Something to do with how closely tied to these places I’ve become. Part of me, I admit, is curious about how the world has changed since I’ve been gone… but another part is scared, it is a small part, but a kernel of fear is enough to turn me away. But enough of me – what of you? I’d ask your friend, but I believe she’s in the middle of a very interesting debate and would not wish to interrupt her.”

Adam frowned thoughtfully, before shrugging his shoulders, “Well… I was a, uh… a student and was working in an Italian restaurant when I met Hannah here.” Adam paused, realizing then that he had met Hannah only three months ago – a sidelong glance at her had him frown a bit deeper, for his memories of her had went further back than ninety-odd days – then he returned his attention to Ajeet. “She spoke endlessly about magic and the like… then she kidnapped me, dragged me to this place – the Boutique – and had me become a sorcerer. Since then I’ve gotten a date with a spider-woman, almost stared down an Angel, and watched you hand a giant its ass.”

“Aha – I see – not many tales to tell of yet, then? Or maybe more, you do not know yet the tales you have to tell!” Ajeet waved his hand before Adam could ask what he meant, “No, no – that’s both getting ahead of ourselves and being too far behind to worry about. But, I’m sure this is not the first time, I’d like to offer some advice – some less cryptic than what the Esteemed may give: Always trust a feeling of Déjà Vu – if you feel like what is happening has happened before it is because it already has, you just have yet to experience it or remember it. So, trust your gut – go with your instincts, and above all do the Heroic thing without being a hero.”

A bomb dropped on the microcosm.

“Will you come with us, sir?” Hannah asked excitedly as death blossomed in the corner behind them and her meal was finally finished.

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Ajeet looked at Hannah in some surprise – as did Adam, though it was with much less enthusiasm. Both of them, mentally, seemed to agree that this was much too soon of a thing to ask – after all, the three had only had one dinner together – and even that ended on a less than pleasant note with total nuclear destruction.

Ajeet, however, was almost always the type to sometimes agree to wild flights of fantasy – never being one to occasionally look a gift horse in the mouth, but to definitely question everything with a certain regard, spoke the pertinent sentence to Hannah’s wild decree. “That, I suppose, entirely depends on where the three of us are going.”

Hannah just grinned – Adam groaned at the expression – her hands slammed on the table and she pushed herself up to her full (unimpressive) height, “Wherever the quantum winds take us, Ajeet…”

Ajeet took that in, finished his milk, and nodded his head, “Very well – I could do with a walkabout. I’ll grab my things and meet the both of you at the Last House, that Path has never lead me the right way – so it’s good as any.” The Heroic rose, grinning beneath his beard, “I was growing a bit too comfortable in the Boutique as it stood.” Ajeet vanished up the stairs of the inn, as Hannah and Adam departed – Hannah scattering a fistful of jade coins on the table as they left.

“This is a terrible idea,” Adam said as soon as they left.

“Nonsense.”

“No, no, not nonsense. The opposite of nonsense. Sense. I don’t have any idea what these Kingdoms are like. Hell, I don’t know what half –“

“Hah, you think it’s half…”

“- of the Boutique is like. I don’t see the point in me wandering these… these Paths to other worlds or whatever if I’m not even sure I can handle myself here,” Adam finished, arms folded – his bag of clothes bumping against his leg.

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Look – the best way to learn how to swim is to dive head first into the deep end, right?”

“No.”

“Exactly – so, think of this as the deep end with myself and Ajeet as your lifeguards.”

“… You know, the only part of that sentence that offers comfort is Ajeet, right?”

Hannah snorted, “Hey – I can keep you safe. I saved you from that Angel –“

“Barely.”

“- and, besides, you can command Blade, Adam. You have no idea what sort of gift that is!”

“No, I don’t, because I don’t know a single spell… speaking of spells, the fuck kind of spell did you cast on me? I remembered, Hannah, I remembered I only met you three months ago. Why do I have a memory of us as kids playing in a kiddy pool together?” Adam’s voice slowly grew more heated with each word, more hurt.

Hannah froze, looking over her shoulder as Adam had come to a stop. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly – more to focus her own thoughts than anything, “Well, shit, I figured that might happen but was hoping it wouldn’t. It was nothing damaging – I just had to Whisper and the memories planted themselves, thought-seeds that your brain, and everyone else necessary, watered them and fit them into proper places. Don’t worry, no one is going to die of brain cancer or anything.”

Adam barked a laugh, “Oh, good, then I just have to focus on the fact you lied to me about... well, about my whole life with you! Gee, I guess that can be put aside and we can be close friends again!”

Hannah groaned, “Damn it – I was hoping the shock would work where magic failed… alright, if you want to have out this conversation here and now: yes, I lied to you – I lied to you, your parents, and your friends. I ruined your relationship with Jane –“

“Wait, Jane? What?”

“- and I got you fired from your position as assistant manager and bumped down to waiter, I also changed your grades a bit… but it was all for a good reason.” She ignored the death glare Adam was giving her, “I needed an apprentice and you were the most suitable candidate within walking distance.”

“… That’s not a good reason. That’s far from a good reason. The only way you could get that further from being a good reason is if you did all of this because you were bored,” Adam trailed off as he saw the slightly nervous look she made. “… Oh for fucksake, you did this because you were bored?!”

“Well… yeah, a bit lonely… but mostly the boredom and laziness… unless loneliness will get me out of this quicker. Then that, too. Mostly that. In fact, ninety-eight percent that.”

Adam’s jaw clenched, his fists tightened and Hannah resisted the urge to take a step back as she felt a Bleed rushing off of – and then into him. He was hemorrhaging Power – but with every inhalation he swallowed the mystical run-off and made it more a part of himself. His skin began to Crack in a few places – but instead of blood and meat there was smooth and shiny chrome.

Hannah lashed out – a Gesture that sent Adam hurtling into the wall of a far building and held him there. The magic began to constrict, his eyes bulging out of his head and the Bleed stopping as it had begun. She stalked forward, her eyes glowing with Math and her hair whipping with Sanity until she had closed the distance. “You may have lucked into Blade, Adam, but you cannot wield Power yet, and I am no pushover. Now, if you want to continue throwing a tantrum I’ll oblige you – I’ll throw you all around the Boutique like a pitbull with a rag doll until you’re too sore to move, and then drag you along with me wherever I go anyway – or, you can suck it up, realize your old life is gone and that where you’re standing now is your new, and permanent, life.”

Adam stared at her, the stare one of bitterness and sorrow and petulance (something he’d grown quite used to wearing as of late), giving a sulking nod of his head. Hannah hesitated, her nearness for more than just effect – her eyes scanned his skin and saw no Cracks – then she released him from the magic’s hold. “Good… now come along, the Last House isn’t too far away,” Hannah turned and walked off – collecting their bag of sorcerer’s attire while Adam retrieved his lost bag of clothes and followed dutifully.

They did not walk for long when they came to the Last House. It was a lonely thing, bent at two right angles with feathers sticking out in haphazard locations and a long pair of chicken legs that had curled up and fallen still after too long of neglect. A broken sign hung from a broken chain and swung back and forth in a broken wind – vague, spidery hand writing could be made out – at least three Bs, an A or two, and a very promiscuous letter Q. But beyond that, the entire thing was unintelligible. But none of that would have signified it as the Last House - no, it was the vast chasm that lead into nothingness on one end, desolation on the next, oblivion at the third, and a charming green meadow at the fourth.

That meadow was the most dangerous of the three and the grass swayed in sinister motions as it hungered.

“What was this place?” Adam asked after a few moments of uncompanionable silence.

Hannah looked up at the Last House, “The first thing to ever be formed in the Boutique. Get dressed if you want, or don’t, but I’m going to at least look my part.” Hannah reached into the bag she’d been carrying and flung a box at Adam’s chest, before walking with the remaining contents down a nearby alleyway and leaving Adam to look between the box in his hands and the groaning, slightly clucking, edifice he stood next to – trying to decide what he should do.

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Gāisǐ de Shíjiān

A mountain crumbled into glittering dust as it was plunged top first into the Void. Skylark watched it fall, watched as his Pleasure Demiplane crumbled into cosmic fractions beneath him. He slowly looked away, crooking his fingers in a Gesture and forcing nothingness into shape – his shining shoes landing on a floating chunk of Void, he dusted his English cut suit of blood, bone, and the detritus of cosmic annihilation before looking into the darkness, “Quite rude – and quite foolish.”

Another figure appeared – and Skylark forced himself to not laugh. A beard as long as his body and coloured the white of snow. Thick bushy brows knitted together above dark brown eyes. A face, craggy with age, glowered at the onyx-forged figure. “Skylark – it has felt like an age in hunting you,” the elder’s voice was strong – harsh and disapproving. He folded arms shrouded in voluminous sleeves over his chest – his kimono flowing in the quantum breeze also stared in disapproval at Skylark.

“I feel like I should be flattered that someone not of my kin should hunt me,” Skylark made another Gesture a tea service of fine bone appearing in front of him. He lifted the skull of Caleg Moor and poured steaming hot Oolong tea into a cup, sipping it slowly as he regarded the elderly sorcerer before him. The man looked every inch the mortal perception of a wizard with his flowing multi-coloured dream robes. His skullcap of forged sapphire with the skull of some mysterious beast staring blankly at nothing. A staff and tome would have completed the look. “Though, and I hate to be rude, I frankly have no idea who you are,” Skylark sipped again, “If you could be so kind as to tell me, I would be more than grateful – it would be a boon to know the name of the corpse that will be the foundation for my new summer home.”

The elderly sorcerer tilted his head, “I’m surprised you don’t recognize me. I figured the Esteemed could always remember a face – no matter how haggard and worn.” The sorcerer spread his hands, “But then, the Brazen Bull has always been the type to forget about those he sought to destroy.”

That name froze Skylark mid-sip. The delicate cup shattered in his hand. “What did you call me, sorcerer?” his voice was as brittle as his face had become – flakes of onyx shedding to show off polished brass beneath.

“The Brazen Bull – a former sorcerer turned Lord of the Infinite after the death of his love, the Skylark, at the hands of Caleg Moor – the Endless Winter. I’ve read up on-“ raw magical force slammed into the elderly sorcerer. His sentence was cut off and he was sent him spinning through the Void.

“HOW DARE YOU!” The Brazen Bull roared. His onyx skin shedding as flames burst into life. His hair and beard melting as they could no longer control the heat. His suit remained immaculately pressed. “How dare you, you foul… oh… oh it is you. My, my, how old you’ve gotten Lying Nameless. I seem to recall last time you were much less… stereotypical. Such a pity – I had high hopes for –“ a simple Gesture saw no less than five slices appear in The Brazen Bull’s finely cut English suit. The material falling and twisting away or else rumpling the fabric. No words left the mouth of the Lord as he stared in absolute shock at the ruins of his suit.

Adam twisted in the Void, a gesture giving him his own platform to stand upon. He looked at Skylark with his head raised, “I’d like to deflect any notions you might have that that was done unintentionally and was meant to physically harm you. It wasn’t. That was an insult – just as destroying your demiplane was. After the destruction of my home, of those who I loved, of those I had brought there to escape the Chaos… Of those I had sworn to protect from the redeath of the Forgotten Violence.” Adam’s jaw clenched, hatred filled his eyes, “I want to make sure I insult you to the best of my ability before destroying you.”

The Brazen Bull just blinked a few times in shock. His suit. Not even Caleg Moor had had the temerity to destroy his suit. He reached a shaking hand up to loosen his tie and missed the Gesture that sliced it from his neck. He looked down at nicked fingers – molten bronze pouring from the minor wounds. The Brazen Bull’s black tie twisted and died in the Void. His chin and lips trembled. His left eye began to twitch. His whole body fell into a fit of convulsions. His lips parted, fiery teeth exposed. He seemed to swell as he focused on an object of such loathing he was not even going to grace its death with an honorary position – but destroy it utterly. “I hold the Hand of Blade, I forsook the Hand of Sanity for the Hand of Song, and I damned the Hand of Words for the Hand of Emotion,” his words were calm – a frigidity to his burning rage. “I was,” a pause and painful flashes, “I was Lacedaemon! King of Laconia and Grand-King of Sparta! Son of Zeus! Progenitor of the Kings of Sparta! I was a God-King as a mortal and a God-King after! I have watched empires turn into dust! I have laid low my Father and the seen His world burn! I have slain more stars than Ravana has skulls! I have devoured more S(u/o)ns than have been birthed by the Broodmother of the Nexus!

“I am the Brazen Bull! Third Lord of the Infinite, Master of Violence and Ender of All that Has!”

Adam sighed gratefully, “And thank the Violence you weren’t the Laconic Sloth – I never would have gotten your Name that way.”

His words pierced the rage of the Brazen Bull – a sharp needle of cold clarity in the fires of his mind. The Lord’s mouth worked but nothing emerged. He hadn’t. He couldn’t have. Then he Reflected.

He had.

It was not glorious combat.

It was not an epic struggle of a God-King and a sorcerer.

It was a simple sentence. “King Lacedaemon has died. Long rest the first and last King of Sparta,” Adam stared as the Brazen Bull remained frozen in place. A single tear forming in a burning eye. “May the King find his Queen,” Adam finished – knowing not even he could be so cruel.

Lacedaemon – for the Brazen Bull was no more – shed his brass skin and fiery appearance. He was a man – dark of hair with a deep olive skin. His beard curled slightly and a simple circlet of brass crowning him. A long red cloak extended from his neck and fell over brass armour painted black. “Thank you, for that, if nothing else,” he said even as he began to age before Adam – slowly dying and being taken by the Divine Violence.

In the Void skylarks trilled.

Shíjiān Fǎnhuí

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

When Ajeet arrived he was treated to the sight of two sorcerers arrayed in their finery. Hannah’s outfit found a comfortable combination between field-plate worn by the knights of her time and a Lehenga Coli from India. Adam, meanwhile, wore a kimono that shifted colours as he walked and seemed to stare at everything around him. Plates forged of Ironwood mimick the armour worn by gladiators during the height of the Roman Empire were sewn into the kimono, typically over the angriest of its eyes. Adam and Hannah, meanwhile, saw Ajeet in his typical clothing – only changed from how he was by the presence of a long, and thick, oaken quarterstaff with a small bag dangling from the end.

“I see the two of you like to announce your presence,” Ajeet said jovially, “I’ll never understand that in sorcerers. Ah well.”

Adam gave Hannah a sour look, which she studiously ignored. “Well, if I knew where we were going to end up I might not take the chance, but wandering into the Imperia in improper attire as a… crap, I forgot the term…”

“I believe it is a Summi Veneficus de Regno, give or take the crudity of Latin,” Ajeet said amicably. “But, say, you were to arrive in the Structure of Elders – from what little I remember they frown upon the opulence of sorcery and typically strike down offenders with death, unless it’s a first offense then it’s typically mild torture and amputation.”

Adam blinked a few times, “Hm… that doesn’t sound too pleasant.”

“Oh good, the shock’s back in place,” Hannah cracked her knuckles, “In any case – I think I’d rather run the risk of wearing the robes and winding up on the like… two or so planes that frown on ostentatious magic users than wind up in the Imperia and be fined two-hundred years worth of power.”

“… That’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you. If time has no meaning here, how can they fine you for a length of time? Or how come units of time are still used at all?” Adam looked down at Hannah, curiosity on his face. The shock was doing a fantastic job with splashes of ADHD to distract him from his earlier anger.

“That’s an excellent question,” Hannah said sagely before turning and carefully avoiding the meadow as she stepped out into oblivion and vanished.

Ajeet chuckled and clapped Adam on the shoulder, “Don’t mind it, boy. There are many questions without answers or logic to support them.” He shrugged the staff on his shoulder to a more comfortable position and followed – though he did dare the meadow slightly by stepping a toe out of line, but he was gone before the rearing grass could ensnare him.

Adam closed his eyes, took a deep breath, shunted his complaints to the side and stepped into oblivion – there was pure blackness, then sickening rainbows, he was sure he saw a clown, and then pure white.

He blinked a few times, looking around. It wasn’t bright light, everything was white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, the chairs… the guns weren’t, but he allowed that white guns would be a step too far. Hannah and Ajeet were frozen solid as Adam continued to casually glance around, “Huh, this place feels a lot like Earth… like, a building on Earth.”

“Compound breach – potential hostiles in the Starga-!” an unseen voice started to call out, the voice slightly static-filled.

“Bill, for the last time, if you call it that again I will throw you into the Cerberus pit!” another unseen voice called out – this one was relatively close by.

“Well, excuuuuuuse me, Princess Amanda, for having the gall to have some fun with our job!” the first voice, Bill, responded. “All Agents, report to the Epsilon Gate – Priority One Emergency.”

More guns were leveled at Hannah, Adam, and Ajeet – though Adam was still blissfully ignorant for the moment. “Bill? Amanda? I figured people on other planes would have different names… this is feeling very Earth…” he trailed off and turned to look at Hannah with a flat expression, “We’re on Earth. You took us on a Path that lead to Earth.”

“I don’t control where a Path goes, A… Jerk… I can’t control them, Jerk,” she growled.

“Enough talk! Put your hands in the air and don’t Say anything!” the second voice from earlier, Amanda, called out. “These guns are loaded with violet matter bullets, they can tear through a Level Eight like tissue-paper!”

There was a long silence as Hannah, Ajeet, and Adam looked to one another with confusion on their faces.

There was a burst of static on the intercom, “You might know it as…” Bill’s voice paused, pages flipping could be heard, “The ‘Unlight of the Cold Stars’ and a Level Eight is the equivalent of a…” more pages flipping, followed by a grumbling for computerized data. “Here we are, a Level Eight is the equivalent of one of your various and sundry gods, hope that helps you make smart choices!”

As one Hannah, Ajeet, and Adam’s hands shot into the air. Hannah’s eyes were wide in shock, Ajeet was just dumbfounded, and Adam didn’t like the idea of anything that could kill a god.

A single figure stepped forward, she was tall and built like the common depictions of an Amazon warrior – if it weren’t for her black suit and tie, she’d look exactly the part of an ancient warrior queen. She had a pump action shotgun focused on the three of them, and a vibrating sword was at her hip. “I’m Colonel Amanda Vimes of the Initiative, you three are anomalies from the Outerverse and are to be treated as hostiles until your harmlessness can be proven, if you understand this make no move. If you don’t understand this I’ll pump you full of violet matter until you’re metaphysically shredded.”

A balding, middle-aged man with thick rimmed glasses and wearing a long lab coat emerged from nothingness and adjusted his glasses, “Huh, they’re at least near-human… begin a biometric scan isolating Agent-Commander Vimes from.” This man was Bill from the intercom – minus the static. Blue light played over the wayward travelers and the same light flickered over the lenses of the man’s eyes, “Huh – physiology of humans, though extremely exaggerated potential physiology in the elderly male.”

Ajeet pursed his lips at being called elderly – he felt 1/28th his actual age.

“Beginning metabiologic scan…” Bill murmured, a painfully bright emerald played over the three and flashed in the lenses of Bill, “Whoooooa boy! The elderly male is very close to a class eight, might even exceed in many regards, be advised. The young female and young male are both a solid class six and class six-point-five, respectively.” Now it was time for Hannah to purse her lips as Bill continued, “I need more in-depth readings to determine actual natures of the three, though.”

Amanda nodded, never taking her eyes off the three, “Well, lucky us we have three vacant Faraday Cages for our new guests.”

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Agnus Dei

Ajeet son of Yashbir closed his eyes as a rolling current washed over him, the gentle water carrying the scents of summer upon it. As his eyes opened he smiled, bowing his head to the figure that drifted before him. A small girl wearing a long gown drifted in the waves in front of him, smiling in return. “Hero!” She chirped, bubbles popping from Her mouth to convey the sounds, “I have heard tales of you! I am so excited that a Heroic has come to visit My plane!”

Ajeet bowed low, arms in front of him and hands formed into a steeple, “Scylla, I thank you for welcoming me to such a wonderful plane. Even for myself, to breathe and speak underwater is an amazing thing!”

Scylla giggled, drifting forward – the ground beneath Her churning and sending up clouds of silt. “Oh, you silly man, this is nothing! I wouldn’t be much of a God-King if I made it so none but those who could naturally exist in water could visit!” She giggled again and placed Her small hand in his, “I’m not so grumbly as big Ravana – I love it when I receive visitors!” She turned in a nauseatingly fluid motion and began to drift back along the path She had taken – silt once again churning as Ajeet was dragged along by a strength that surprised him. “Now, once we sit down to tea, you and I can discuss about why you’re here!”

Ajeet just nodded his head slightly, placing a free hand on his turban as Scylla twisted – the rest of Her body breaking free of the muck of the sea floor. The heads of six snarling wolves broke the ground and twisted on snaking tentacles – dragging Scylla and Ajeet forward while Her other six tentacles drifted behind for an occasional pulse of power.

Their journey wasn’t a long one, Scylla soon slowing to worm Her way inside of a vast palace constructed of various shipwrecks from across space and time, giant clams acting as vast doorways for those to enter and exit while the bones of some great beast crowned the top of the structure to form the spires of Her palace. Once inside Ajeet was released and Scylla sunk Her lower body into the ground once more – letting it churn throw space and time rather than damage Her palace – only stopping at a bright pink table and chairs made out of plastic.

She twisted and sat down in one of eight vacant chairs – six of the others filled with the panting heads of Her dogs and the two chairs that had been occupied on arrival had dolls seated on them. Ajeet sat between a rag doll with scallop shells for eyes and a panting head. Scylla smiled wide – showing off a mouthful of fangs – and Clapped Her hands in delight. A pink teapot with a floral pattern appeared on the table along with ten flowery tea cups, a saucer of cream, a bowl of sugar, and the screaming faces of sailors. Scylla Clapped again and the doll next to Ajeet picked up the teapot, pouring imaginary tea into his cup. The other doll – a plastic affair with flowing seaweed for hair and with eyes and mouth stitched shut – began to serve each of the screaming faces, adding a bit of powdered sugar on top of them.

Scallop held out the saucer of cream and waited for Ajeet to nod before pouring, then held out the bowl of sugar cubes and waited for Ajeet to hold up two fingers before adding the cubes and stirring the imaginary tea, the cream, and sugar together – Ajeet was (unsure why) he found it vaguely surprising to see the cup begin to steam and that his first sip tasted of the most exquisite tea ever.

Scylla and Her heads, meanwhile, attacked the screaming faces before them – devouring them from the crown of the head down to the jaw so the screams only stopped at the last bite. Ajeet politely declined his screaming face by gently pushing the plate forward – Scallop and Stitch sat calmly drinking their tea. Once Scylla had finished Her face She licked Her mouth clean and took a ladylike sip of tea. “Excuse me for that – I hadn’t eaten yet today and I’ve always loved Greek. Now, why ever have you come to my palatial plane, Ajeet son of Yashbir?”

“Well, Great Queen of Woe, I wished to speak with You upon a similar topic to that of the one I spoke with the Demon King,” Ajeet said slowly, taking another sip of his tea – Scallop and Stitch mimicking him.

Scylla nodded Her head slowly, “Why?”

“Ah, well, His answers still trouble and confuse me; I’d like it if I could find some clarity.”

Another nod of Her head, “Why?”

“Er, well, because I am still at my core mortal and we have the need to Know.”

“Why?”

“Because we… try to find our own place in this world or… this universe, and when we ask questions that’s our best way of learning?”

“Why?”

“I… I guess because, as Ravana said, I am a… a child of Ignorance and would like it to be otherwise?”

“Why?”

Ajeet blew out his cheeks, he felt heat rising to his face, “Because being ignorant is not something I wish to be. I want to learn – I want to Know.”

Scylla smiled, picking face out from between Her teeth, “Why?”

“I don’t know why!” Ajeet finally bellowed. “I don’t know! I just do! I want to Know! Now stop asking me why!” He had stood from the table, glaring at the small girl. Scallop and Stitch stared – or, at least, managed an idea of staring – in shock at Ajeet. The six wolf heads were frozen, and Scylla was blinking in surprise. Ajeet sucked in deep breaths of sweet water – the realization that he had just scolded a God-King as if they were a young child not registering yet.

Scylla tilted Her head, “Good.” She smiled, “If you knew then you wouldn’t need to Know.” Scallop and Stitch went back to sipping tea and the wolf heads once more plucked up screaming faces to eat. “Ajeet son of Yashbir – as Ravana I cannot tell you what you wish to Know in plain words. Though I can tell you why I cannot tell you what you want to be told: to tell you what you wish to be told would be to break you in twain and cast your essence into the quantum winds and scatter it to the twenty-nine corners of sublimation and the infinity edges of the finite universe. Instead I will tell you this: your path to Know will forever be a path of Why.”

Ajeet slowly sat back into his chair, head bowed, a mumbled apology leaving his lips which Scylla waved away, “So, then, it is as Ravana said – I am never to return to Him for I will never Learn.”

Scylla nodded Her head, “Ravana is wise – though He is also a colossal jerkface.”

[James]

Hey Silver,

I've read the first part of this. If you want to keep this thread tidy, just give me a shout and I'll move this to the Writing Thread.

You've got me hooked enough that I'm going to go on and keep reading when I have the time. So well done there! It's been a while since I've read some of your stuff and your prose seems crisper, cleaner and just better. I also thought your dialogue was handled well, considering for a lot of it you dispensed with tags and I could still hear distinct voices. The first paragraph felt very Adams or Rowling and it hooked me in quickly. So yeah, a good start.

But, there's a few things I'd keep an eye on. I'll check to see if you get a handle on them when I read on.

First of all, sometimes the narrative is just a little bit clumsy. Most of the time, it flowed nicely, but let me just pluck out an example for you:

For as long as he’d known her, and he can’t quite remember the first time he’d ever met her, she’d been telling him more and more details – always offhanded, and always to direct conversation away from his ‘boring life’.

That "and he can't quite remember" sounds wrong. It doesn't quite fit the voice of the rest of the sentence. You've flipped the tense. Reading it aloud, the reader wants to say "he couldn't". Just reading things aloud might help you catch those kinks you need to iron out.

My other issue is Hannah's just a little too frantic at the moment. Yeah, she's kooky and a magician and clearly spends time out of our dimension. She should feel different. But there's too much going on with the pop culture references and the mad magical stories. It's like you're trying too hard to show off her personality. I'm hoping that when I read on, she's going to be toned down a bit.

But yes, a good start. I've got to catch up!

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

I'm not worried about tidiness.

I'm definitely glad the beginning got you hooked! As for certain things with tense... I think that's always been a problem of mine. Hannah... never gets too toned down? Her excitement levels do get explained, though, so there's that.

But yeah - if tense is my biggest issue it'll probably remain that. Tense/proper wording has always hit my ear differently than other people I know.