On a windy, desolate beach in South Georgia, Miss Percy assembled her pupils. “Class—pay attention,” she admonished. “I know you’re all excited about Kingmas break, but there’s work to do.” The fledglings looked up from their ice desks as she called roll. “Charlotte Chinstrap?” “Present.” “Ginny Gentoo? Edward Emperor? Marty Macaroni—“ One by one, the pupils confirmed their presence. Then little Rainbow Rockhopper raised her flipper. A recent transfer from the North, the concept of Kingmas was new to her. “Yes, Rainbow?” “Ma’am—why do we celebrate Kingmas?” “Well, once upon a time, there was a cold, bad winter. It was so awful that mommy and daddy penguins couldn’t get back to feed their little ones.” “That sounds terrible, ma’am.” “It gets worse, I fear. The snow-covered beaches of South Georgia echoed with the sound of hungry little penguins. As you know, each caw is different, so grown-up penguins can find their own young. But there were no parents to be found.” The children of the class nodded, riveted even though they’d heard the tale before. “Things got so terrible that many were in danger of losing their lives. And then a miracle happened.” “What’s a *miracle*?” “When something so good happens that it’s hard to believe. When all hope was lost, Kenny King flew over with the help of a team of magic seals in a great wooden sledge filled with sardines. Bells ringing to draw their attention, he flew over the rookery and threw fish for all the boys and girls. The children rejoiced—they were saved. When their mamas and papas came back after a long time at sea, the parents feared the worst. But instead, they found a rookery full of happy, well-fed fledglings.” “What a nice penguin! Thanks, Miss Percy.” “Indeed he is. And that’s why every year on December 25th, Kingmas is celebrated.” Rainbow looked out over the cold, unforgiving beach as the wind ruffled her feathers. Imagining how tough it was for the fledglings, she was thankful for her luck. Born in the comparatively warm Tristan de Cunha, such hardships were rare. Miss Percy waddled over to Ginny and put a protective wing around her. “It’s tough to imagine, isn’t it—“ “I wish we could thank Mr. Kenny somehow.” “We can—every year, we lay out offerings for him in thanks. And each year, he rides in his sleigh and brings gifts to all of the good penguin boys and girls.” “What’s an *offering*?” “It’s like a little present for him. We decorate the beach with kelp tinsel spelling out his name and leave a big pile of fish for him and the seals.” “I wanna do that.” “This year is special as we wrote a song just for him. All our friends and families will gather around and sing it.” That night, before bed, Rainbow went to the beach with her parents and helped to lay out the kelp. And then the singing began. “Jingle Bells, jingle bells Jingle all the way Thank you, Kenny For all you do and say Hey!” Later, a tired Rainbow curled under her mother’s flipper and fell asleep. She dreamed of Kenny and his team of seals with a smile on her beak.


The gentleman stood in the main foyer of the library, just passed the displays of ancient pottery pieces and giant lizard bones. Clearly, he had not taken to the baggy “swell” of modern fashion, instead he wore a simpler cut of suit. Upon his head lay a top-hat. I approach and stand to his left. Before us is a vast, curved wall that severs the noisy entrance hall from the solemn library proper. On this wall is a mural — a mosaic of dark and jagged tile that tells the tale of Shardfall, Shatternight and the Second Great Fire of London. The birth of a new England and a changed world. The birth of new peoples and new ways. Details of the artwork are lost to us in the shadows that the evening has brought. The gas lamps cannot light such a space with any real efficacy. “Even in this eerie light,” I say. “I find it rather stunning.” There is a silence and then: “I cannot say I see the beauty of its form. Nor do I agree with how it chooses to depict that moment of London’s sad history. The scale and skill of the thing? I appreciate the craftsmanship.” Sad history? The moment that made him what he is and changed our planet...and he wraps it into such a small package as Sad History. I turn from the mural. The left side of his face bears no skin and the skull that is thus revealed is made of glossy black instead of pale bone. In his empty eye-socket sits a pin-prick of blue light. The sign of those wrought from the crystal and its impact. I present to him the top of my glove. “Adelia De Wight. A pleasure to meet you, good sir.” He turns and I see that his other eye is human, as is that side of his face. And, though the eye is of a darker shade of brown, it holds a warmth and brightness I would not have expected, given the stiffness of his character and harshness of his voice. I wonder what he sees? A young lady trapped in a cage of crinoline and purple taffeta, very much a part of the modern modes of dress that he so clearly avoids. Does he see more? He takes my hand with his right, sweeps off his hat with his left, and lowers his head. He does not kiss my hand. “Archibald Candle. A pleasure.” Greetings thus completed, he dons his hat and turns once more to the mural. “Well, I must leave you to it, Mrs-” “Miss.” “Ah, my apologies. Miss De Wight.” He touches the brim of his hat and gives a nod. “Farewell.” “Before you go, Sir.” I say. “Might I be so forward as to ask you: why is it that you dislike the mural so?” A moment passes before he once more faces me. “Are you aware that since its erection, some forty years ago, that the work has been altered? Often in secret.” I didn’t. “I have heard rumours of such.” “The Deadfolk seen rising from graves, and the other creatures born of crystal, have had their teeth filed — and lessened — the points of their claws have been rounded into fingers. Though they try to hide it, it was born of fear.” “Well. It can be a beautiful thing not born of beauty, and the views on-” “Yes. The world views us monsters *very* differently. Forty years of effort and I can now own property and earn a wage...many tax me for my form or outright refuse to barter.” “I do not think you to be a monster, sir.” “Splendid.” The word came without joy, served as it was on ice. “But, by the laws of science and medicine: I am not a man. By the rule of law: I am not a man. I am a subject of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, but never do I fall within the net as cast by the term human.” The face he had lost shimmered into view for a moment. A passing flicker of blue light that none could predict. The ten story octahedron wedged in a crater at London’s edge would have shimmered too, as would its sister crystal which had crashed and scattered across The Moon. I met his eyes with mine. “I would call you a man.” “Forgive the impropriety of this imagery, Madam, but were I clad in naught but sky, I would look in shape as a human, but in detail...” At this he looked once more at the vast mosaic, and raised his left hand. The glove was loose. Within, one guesses, is obsidian bone and wisp of magic. “A beast born of ugliness.” “...not born of beauty. But beautiful.” \* * * My WP Discord Secret Santa Story for Quiscover. This was a real challenge. Had soooo much I wanted to cram in but had to cut back to fit into the 800 word cap. Brilliant constraints (Thanks, Quiscover!) and an excellent excuse to write (Thanks, Say!) **Constraints:** * Genre: Historical fantasy * Word: Barter * Phrase: "A beautiful thing not born of beauty." * Object: Tiles * Place: Library (doesn't have to be the main setting) * Characters: Features at least one of BOTH a human character AND a non-human character.


In 2017, I was part of a secret maritime task force called The Leviathan Killers. We belonged to the US Navy and had close to sixty members, who were mostly handpicked from DEVGRU, Delta Force, and various NATO UDT teams. We were the best of the best in maritime combat, and we specialized and trained to kill deep-sea threats in heavy gear. We would usually operate between one to eight thousand feet, even more, so we used specialized and classified suits designed by the best combat engineers. We were all extremely proficient at swimming, weapons use, and every underwater combat technique was battered into our heads as second-hand nature. Given the rise of hostile activity in the deep oceans in the late 2010s, we frequently went on more operations. We would handle explosive disposal, naval sabotage, rescue, and intel, but we mainly found and destroyed extremely hostile deep-sea organisms with precision. The weapons we used were various modified underwater rifles and explosives, which were of an extremely high caliber due to the recoil of the guns being significantly lowered in the deep ocean. I joined while I was in DEVGRU, and I was offered a spot on The Leviathan Killers. I was a member for six years when I went on one of our most eventful operations. \*\*\* We were going to the Mariana Trench. It was deeper than any other operation we had ever been on, so we had to use experimental suits to survive the temperatures and insane pressure. Death would be mercy at those depths. Deep in the Mariana Trench, a distress signal from a US research submersible had gone out a day before we had deployed there. The researchers in that submersible were dead, but what caught our interest was the fact that the submersible's readings still showed that living organisms were surrounding the submersible, and were taken as hostile. The Leviathan Killers were deployed to investigate. We arrived on a large warship and dove directly into the trench in our suits, and as I put on the suit, I talked with the marine biologist and expert of the trench. "Doc," I said. "Any chance of leviathans down there?" "Possibly," the marine biologist said. "Hard to tell, the food sources down there are sparse if there are any." "Then what the fuck destroyed the submersible?" "We don't know." "How deep can these suits go?" "Fifteen thousand feet, at the absolute maximum." "Why that deep?" "The ocean is much deeper than we think." "I can't imagine the fucking things that live that deep." "There are horrors within the abyss." With the weight carrying us deeply, we descended fast into the abyss. I looked around to see the light disappearing, and I held onto my rifle as we descended. Two dozen other members descended along with me, and within a few hours, we had reached the destination, the bottom of the deepest place in the world, at the exact coordinates of the submersible's location. It was pitch black, and the darkness was pierced as we turned on our extremely bright helmet lights, and searched the wreckage. The research submersible was fucking destroyed, and it was clear that it wasn't just the pressure that had done to it. I walked over to the wreckage while the others watched for any signs of movement, and I noticed something inside the wreckage. I reached down, my light illuminating a wriggling, pale tendril inside. I showed it to my team, and we were instantly on guard. It was cut off recently. In the distance, my teammate spotted a red light blinking in the far distance, only visible due to the sheer blackness of the trench. It was far, but steadily approaching, and we couldn't hit it this far. When it got within six hundred meters, we began taking shots at it. As soon as the first bullet hit the red light, all our suit's lights, our floodlights, and any source of light instantly cut out. Now let me describe a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. I had gone on raids on terrorist groups in the Middle East, assassinated the deadliest extremists and insurgency leaders, killed monsters both human and not, been shot, been stabbed, been gassed, been tortured, and had tortured countless people, and as a result, my sense of fear and adrenaline had significantly numbed. I had killed literal leviathans before. But at that moment, when all our lights went out at the deepest hell we could descend to, and as the red light approached, I felt every sense of fear and primal instinct come back to me. That feeling was primal, as if I recognized that red light from the worst nightmares of my ancestors, and standing at the bottom of the ocean holding a rifle, I had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nowhere to seek refuge. We were blind, and anything we shot at, we would definitely miss. It was absolutely pitch black, darker than anything else I had experienced, even at depths close to these. It was the void, and there was only one thing penetrating it was something that I couldn't see, didn't want to see. It approached, and no matter how closely it got, it seemed to never grow or shrink. I had no idea where my teammates were, my lights, communications, and electronics weren't working, and the red light was rapidly approaching. I was stepping back blindly, into the void, slowly, as the light approached. It was only twenty feet away when it suddenly cut out, and everything turned black. All thoughts of my mission, my teammates, my family, and my country, all that I had fought so hard for instantly disappeared as I turned the other direction and ran. The water resistance made my footsteps feel like an eternity, and I would never escape this thing, but I sure as hell tried. I suddenly felt a commotion as water rushed around me, objects brushed past me, and suddenly my headlight, and only my headlight, turned on and I screamed. I was mostly used to extreme gore, but this was something else. Something else fucking entirely. My teammates, all who were married and had kids, the people who I had fought alongside and would die for, were now ripped to fucking shreds. Every single one of them, and their suits, was torn apart, and their organs were ripped out, their skin pale and crushed by the pressure, their faces were ripped off and floating in the water. The deepwater was flooded with crimson, and I saw the decapitated head of one of my teammates float in front of me with an expression of horror I can not describe. I dropped my rifle and ran. I ran slowly but I ran, my dying light illuminating the bare seafloor, as I constantly felt something brush against me. I was running, closing my eyes, slowly making I was across the seafloor, my steps dragged out as I kept screaming, and screaming until my lungs were hoarse. I coughed up blood. The suits were supposed to give us air for up to ten hours, and I ran and ran and ran across the seafloor, screaming and constantly turning back, only to see nothing. But there was something, hiding within the pitch black of the ocean, and the primal sense of utter dread was rising every second, besides the fact that I could neither see, feel, or hear anything near me anymore. But I could sense that there was something, something horrible, worse than anything I could imagine within that blackness. I must have run a mile or two the hours I ran, and I suddenly stopped. Only a few meters away from me, illuminated by my headlight, was an enormous, endless, black trench within the Mariana Trench. It was extremely deep, even from my limited visibility I could tell it was a true abyss. Something swam past me, something fucking huge, and I turned to see that fucking red light approaching me at breakneck speed. *Any chance of leviathans down there?* With no other options, I jumped into the abyss, the trench within the trench. *Possibly, hard to tell, the food sources down there are sparse if there are any.* I sunk deeper and my lungs burned as I screamed and screamed, and my headlight touched nothing illuminating nothing, as I descended into the void. *Then what the fuck destroyed the submersible?* I kept sinking, and the horror was so bad I wanted to kill myself, and I tried ripping my suit off to expose and kill myself to the deep. *We don't know.* I looked beneath me, to see nothing but utter black envelop me, and it kept ongoing, and I wondered how deep the ocean truly was. I had devoted so much of my life to it, and yet now it was going to kill me. *How deep can these suits go?* I sunk and continued to for hours. Time became irrelevant, and I was stuck in my mind, and I constantly punched my helmet, and the fear was driving me mad. *Fifteen thousand feet, at the absolute maximum.* I couldn't form thoughts, the utter dread was screaming at me that something huge and something unknown was watching me, following me as I sunk to my death. I closed my eyes and screamed, blood and pieces of my lung splattering the inside of my helmet. *Why that deep?* Hours and hours passed, my oxygen slowly ran out, and I finally hit the floor of the trench. I opened my eyes, the taste of copper in my mouth, my throat burning as I slowly walked forward, madness and fear pounding into my mind. I was at the bottom, the true end to the deepest point, the deepest hell on earth. *The ocean is much deeper than we think.* I walked aimlessly, waiting for my oxygen to run out so I could be granted the sweet bliss of death. In the distance, I saw the fucking red light, that fucking red light blink into sight, and it approached quickly as I screamed once more. *I can't imagine the fucking things that live that deep.* I wanted death. Death, and nothing else. I ran towards the light as it approached, screaming and closing my eyes, and waiting for the beautiful feeling of my flesh ripping as I died and left this wretched abyss. I ran and ran until I slowly stopped and I opened my eyes. The red light was in front of me, and my headlight was illuminating it. I looked up and floating in front of me, at the deepest hell on earth, I saw an organism, so horrifying, perfect, beautiful, dreadful, unholy, demonic, eldritch, and I fell to my knees and experienced a fate much worse than death.


Although the weather was clear, strong westerly winds made for choppy seas as we sailed towards Granite Vowhorn. The Deer Drum boat, with Alessia’s towed behind, lurched over each wave, a spray of water shooting up into the sky as we ploughed through. Alessia, Xander, Lachlann and I were on the quarterdeck behind the wheel as Eir navigated the seas. “So the island’s at war,” Xander said, his calm voice only just audible over the billowing sails and churning water. “Yeah. Has been longer than anyone alive can remember,” Alessia nodded. I pursed my lips. “Last I heard it was a stalemate. Neither side was making any ground.” Alessia shook her head. “Word on Sneppath Head was that the North has been pushing the South back. The South’s down to two small towns. Everything else been lost.” The boat hit a sharp dip. A plume shot into the air, the smallest droplets carrying the length of the boat and landing on our faces. “So we go to the North then, presumably safer.” Lachlann said, shaking the dew from his hair. Alessia shook her head once more. “The one thing the south does have is the harbour. Unless you wanna be sitting in seas like this the whole time, we need the bay.” “Besides,” I sighed. “Is anywhere going to be safe in a war zone?” Alessia cocked an eyebrow and nodded to me. “He’s right.” “We know what this war’s about?” Xander asked, looking out to the sea as the next wave approached. Alessia shrugged. “Ferdinand?” “Religion was all I heard. Nothing more than that.” “Oh. Well, that’s good.” Lachlann smiled wryly. “Religion always keeps people nice and calm.” The next wave caught us at a three-quarter angle. Water poured down onto the deck drenching Xander’s carrots and cabbages before running off the side. Xander squirmed slightly as though he could feel the vegetable’s pain. “How we doing there, Eir?” Eir turned half a shoulder, getting Xander in her periphery but keeping her eyes on the seas in front. “It’s handling a bit differently than the last rough seas we caught. Lighter load. Need more passengers and more cargo again.” Lachlann chuckled. “The pole beans not creating enough weight for you?” “As much as the seven people who left and all their things? No.” Eir sighed. “We’ll make do though.” Xander took a look at the waterlogged soil beds. “But yes. Let’s head to the bay to the south.” Two days later, we arrived at Granite Vowhorn, most of Xander’s vegetables intact. We were greeted by two long stretches of cliff that stuck out from the southern end of the island like the prongs of a fork. The harbour walls were made of great chunks of chiselled stone and stretched almost the full length of the western cliff, before wrapping round in a curve where the two crags met. At the point, a few small shacks nestled by the water’s edge. Weaving between them, I could see a zigzag path cut up across the hill to a small town at the top, big enough for a few hundred residents. The only other way up the cliff was at the end of the harbour wall to our left. A hill climbed up a gully. Centuries of erosion had carved a smooth run to the sea with steep, rocky banks on either side. We moored the boats a short distance from the harbour and rowed the rest of the way. Xander dropped off Alessia and I first, before returning to fetch Kurbani and Lachlann. The harbour itself was quiet. There were one or two people milling around, and a couple of officers by the shacks at the end, but a port this size was certainly capable of much greater traffic. The fighting had driven much of the trade away, so that now an arriving boat was a rare blessing. As soon as the five of us began walking towards the town we saw a gaggle of islanders sprinting towards us. They were all children. The youngest maybe only six or seven. The oldest in her low teens. “Welcome, welcome,” said a young boy around ten. He puffed his chest out, trying to deepen his voice. “Are you here to buy anything? The war’s slowed down some of our production but we’ve still got plenty of granite available.” “Sorry,” I interrupted, bowing my head. “We’re not traders.” The boy’s frame sagged, his features becoming more childlike, his sales pitch removed. “Have you come to help with the war effort?” the oldest girl asked. “We’re here looking for someone,” Alessia interrupted. “Would’ve arrived maybe two weeks ago, maybe with a few other people.” Young scrawny shoulders rose in sharp pillars. “No idea. But speak to Rory up top if you can,” the oldest girl said in a flat tone. “Rory?” Alessia asked. “General of the army. He keeps tabs on everyone. If you catch him before nightfall he should be free.” “Thanks.” Alessia began picking up her pace with the new information. “Your ship,” a girl said, looking out at the harbour. “It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen.” Lachlann smiled. “Yeah. We live on it.” “Like. All the time?” the girl asked. Lachlann knelt down beside her. “Yep. We travel around on it.” “Cooool.” Xander leaned over, trying to get Lachlann’s attention, nodding back up the hill. Lachlann glanced to us. “Go on ahead, I’ll catch up with you. I’ll talk to this lot. Little knowledge exchange.” We reluctantly agreed and left Lachlann by the docks, and headed up the winding path up until we reached the town. The ground was worn down to soil, churned up from the endless footprints of the people stacked on top of each other in the cramped space. The small homes were painted white with dark oak crossbeams acting as supports. The buildings stretched back a couple of hundred metres before coming to an abrupt end at a wall made from piles of rock and old debris. On this side of the wall there was a flat section some four feet from the top with planks laid down as a walkway. I watched a man in thick black clothes and a balaclava - too warm for the weather - walk by. He held a small pistol in his right hand. I looked around at the villagers. I was startled by how still everyone was. The children played slowly in the dirt, drawing patterns in the ground with sticks. The adults were quiet. They sat in doorways, looking out at the town with emotionless faces. They glanced at us as though we were a passing moth, a brief distraction, something to concentrate on for a moment, but nothing more. We continued walking through the town, inspecting each of the streets as we passed. As I looked down a road to our left, I could see a crowd gathered in front of a wooden gate built into the wall of rubble. We turned and headed towards the gathering. As we got closer I could see a man standing atop a stack of wooden crates. He was dressed in the same clothing as the man on the wall, except his was dyed a dark red. It was a hue that reminded me of the first light of a sunrise. From someway away I could already hear the man shouting. His hands gesticulated in large mannerisms as he spoke, stretching his arms out as wide as he could, before pounding his fist into his palm, his eyes fierce. As we got closer the inaudible boom became clear distinct words. “Tonight we thank the brave men and women who continue to defend all we hold dear. Though we lose a few true believers each time, we continue to take more of the bastards down with us. If I die, but I kill seven northerners as I do, then that is a victory that God can be pleased with.” Cheers erupted from the crowd. “They do not believe you have the right to worship the God that you know to be true. They do not believe that you should praise the summer solstice. They do not believe in giving to our God when He is at His strongest. They want nothing more than to come through those gates, and slay every last man, woman and child here. Why? Because they hate the unshakable faith that you have. We shall not let them defeat us.” The man pointed to the sky and paused with each word. He waited for the inevitable applause to die down before leaning in, getting closer to his audience. “The summer solstice is two weeks away. They know that. They know how much life and power our conviction will bring us that night. How God will bring us victory. They are terrified. So to our soldiers who enter the battlefield tonight, I want you to remember what we fight for. I want you to remember the slaughter at Camweirr. How they brutalized the bodies. How they murdered children. I want you to remember that and let it fuel your anger. Let it spark your revenge. And go out there and fight for the South. Praise be to God.” The crowd chanted back in unison. “Praise be to God.” “Praise be the sun,” the man shouted with a fist raised in the air. “Praise be the sun,” the crowd replied. The gate opened and a group of men and women splintered from the crowd and headed off through the opening and off to the war. Their marching frames cast long shadows as the sun set to the west. The man who had given the speech jumped off his podium and walked up to remaining members of the crowd, clasping fists with some, embracing others. Slowly, the audience dispersed as the man headed down the street towards us chaperoned by two large guards. Alessia stepped forward as they neared. “Hoping you might be Rory.” The man halted and turned to us. “Well you’re in luck then.” He inspected us with casual glances. “Don’t recognize you. Take it you’re not from here.” The two men beside Rory pulled out long knives from their belts. “No,” I replied. “The North send you?” He smiled a wide grin: a charming, smooth smile. “We’re not from the island at all. We came by boat.” Alessia thumbed towards the coast. “The big one in the cove. You can go look, you can’t miss it.” Rory turned to the two men either side of him. “Calm down boys, if they were gonna kill us they’d have done so already. Besides, this lot don’t look like they know how.” I didn’t want to correct him, but my mind flickered. Here it was again, the world reminding me that I was a killer, even though I hated myself for it. The next bit of conversation seemed to pass in a haze. As though I was a spectator, watching from afar. “We mean no harm.” Xander tilted his head, raising his hands. Rory signalled to the two men. They sheathed their knives and returned to their slouched postures. He stepped forward, closing the gap between us. “Can’t say we’ve had a lot of visitors here lately. But we are always pleased to welcome people to Granite Vowhorn, or at least what’s left of it.” “War will always leave a scar,” Kurbani said, her voice soft, but her eyes steely. Rory looked at her. He paused for a second before the boisterousness returned. “Just like the sun, we will rise again. How can I help?” “We’re looking for someone,” Alessia replied. “Would’ve come by boat, maybe a week or two back. May have come with a small group.” Rory scrunched up his face. “Don’t remember the boat. But ten days ago we lost Camweirr. The survivors flocked here. If they snuck in with them and kept low they could’ve gone by unnoticed. Few new faces.” “So he could be here,” Xander muttered. Rory nodded. “This person you’re looking for. They a friend or someone unsavory?” “The worst.” Xander replied, a contained rage in the undertones of his voice. “Well in that case he probably chummed up with the North. That’s where I’d go if I had no conscience.” My mind arrived back in my body, and I managed to force out a thought that was lingering in the back of my head. “What you said in the speech - about what the North did - that all true?” I asked. I caught Alessia out the corner of my eye glaring at me. I guessed she would be annoyed at me veering off topic, but after a second or two, her face softened, replaced by a smile. I suspected she felt the same warmth I felt as the words left my lips. The comfort of knowing that the inquisitiveness that brought me to sea was returning. “Every word and worse,” Rory snarled. He leaned to his left and spat on the ground. “They caught a whole cohort of our soldiers a few months back. I knew they’d execute them. That’s war. But they chose to build a scaffold few hundred metres away from our front gates, far enough to be out of range, but close enough to make sure we could see. We watched as they hacked off limbs one by one, and then beheaded them, one at a time. They’re bastards.” “We’ve suffered too,” Xander replied. “The man we’re after. He attacked our island. Only a few of us survived. I’ve buried most of my island.” Rory’s mouth fell open slightly, as his head tilted back. “Deer drum?” Xander and Kurbani looked at each other in confusion. “I’ve heard of you. Travelling in that massive boat.” Rory snapped his fingers. “Is that the one you sailed here? It’s here, right now? In our harbour? Oh, you must let me see it sometime.” “How do you know of us?” Kurbani asked. “Word travels. The story of an island on a boat, travelling the seas. You’re all folk heroes. Staying together, after everything you’ve been through.” He paused, a delighted chuckle escaping his lungs. “That’s true resilience. Please, walk with me, I’ll introduce you to some people. Help out in any way I can.” We began following Rory back down the path. “We’re trying to find the person who attacked Deer Drum. We believe he came here,” Alessia said. “Well, if he’s anywhere in the south, we’ll rat him out. I’ll bring you the man’s body on a spike. But, you should go check with the bastards in the North too.” “Is there a safe way to get there?” I asked, taking a couple of paces to get in front. “Sunset right now.” Rory pointed to the orange sky to the west. “That’s when the fighting starts. Go in the morning, wear blue.” “Blue?” I asked. “This is a nasty war, but there are still rules. We have nurses, priests, who tend to those on the battlefield. Blue is the colour of neutrality. You wear that, keep your hands up, travel unarmed, and no one will hurt you. That, and travel during the day.” “Easier to see.” I concurred. “That, and no one wants to commit murder when the sun is up. God is watching.” He nodded to the sky. It seemed strange to me to believe so fervently in your God that you could kill in their name while they slept but not while they were awake. “That stuff you said about the summer solstice…” Rory nodded, understanding where my questioning was going. “It’s the most important holiday of the year. When we make our offerings and celebrate all God gives. The longest day of the year. It is when He is at His most powerful. The time when we must celebrate Him. And in return, He will give us the strength to win this war.” His smooth smile suddenly turned to gritted teeth. “There’s nothing we hold more dear. We will fight to the death for the right to celebrate the summer solstice and the Sun God.” Rory led us through the town and introduced us to a couple of his lieutenants, informing them to help us with our inquiries in any way. We spoke for a while, mostly discussing the war and what happened on Deer Drum. When we parted we had a plan. Two of us would head off the next day to the North. The rest would stay in the South and try to find Sannaz here. \ As darkness fell we found ourselves back on the Deer Drum boat. Whether we were all genuinely in the mood to celebrate each other’s company, or if it was the morbidity of the island making us need to respond with something joyous, we decided a party was in order. We opened a few bottles of rum and sat around a large fire on the quarterdeck. Old planks crackled in the summer twilight as the majority of the remaining Deer Drum residents drank and talked. It wasn’t long until Lachlann had broken out the guitar and was leading the group in song. The old tune of the Nightingale played once more. *My friends, come along. Don’t you hear the fond song?* *The sweet notes where the nightingale flows?* *For to hear the fond tale of the sweet nightingale,* As he reached the refrain the entire ship sang back. Xander wrapped his arm round Mirai, Alessia raised her glass to the air, Eir sat with a blanket wrapped around her legs and her head held back bellowing the words. *As she sings in the valley below,* *As she sings in the valley below.* Lachlann led the second verse. *My trav’lers don’t fail, for I’ll carry your pail,* *Safe home to a harbour we’ll go.* *You shall hear the fond tale of the sweet nightingale* Once more, the entire boat sang the chorus. *As she sings in the valley below,* *As she sings in the valley below.* The guitar took over again. *I still think of my home, where I’d lands of my own.* Though the chorus did not sing it, I saw Xander mouth the words. *The spirit of Deer Drum’s hard as stone,* *We will hear the fond tale, of the sweet nightingale* The crowd chimed in. *As she sings in the valley below,* *As she sings in the valley below.* The guitar strummed again, this time softly. Lachlann leaned in close, his voice like a lullaby. I looked at Alessia next to me as he sang. *Pray sit yourself down, with me on the ground,* *On this bank where sweet primroses grow,* *You shall hear the fond tale of the sweet nightingale.* I sang with all my heart. *As she sings in the valley below,* *As she sings in the valley below.* Lachlann lifted up his guitar and placed it down on the ground beside him. “Well, that’s enough of that.” There were sporadic jeers from the crowd. Xander bellowed above them. “Thought you said you’d adapted the last two verses Lachlann. Let’s hear them.” The crowd cheered the proposal. Lachlann laughed. “I have. But not yet.” Xander lifted his hands up to his mouth. “Booooooo.” Lachlann shook his head, his tongue bit between his teeth. “I’ll do you a deal. When this is all over. I’ll play them then. Wouldn’t be right to do it before.” “I’m keeping you to it.” Xander pointed to his friend. As the crowd quietened, Kurbani walked up to Alessia and I. She waited till we turned to her before speaking. “I’ve spoken with Xander about it. I want to go to the North. With whoever goes.” I looked to Alessia. “Why?” she asked. “Eir’s been teaching me about medicine. I can help. Plus, it’s my turn.” She smiled. Alessia turned to me. “Fine by me. You and Kurbani head North tomorrow?” I chuckled. “I’m going am I?” “Ferdinand,” Alessia placed a hand on my shoulder. “Which one of us is always dying to go off on stupid, =deadly, trips to see the world?” My face stayed flat for a half a second until a grin slowly emerged. “I am.” “settled then. Xander, Lachlann and I will meet up with Rory’s lot here. You two head North. Now, let’s see what else Lachlann can play.” Alessia headed off to go grab the bard slowly slipping away with his guitar. I turned and looked around at these people I’d met. The friends I had made since I left Kadear. I thought back to my old life where I so tirelessly worked for an impossible dream. During that pursuit of wealth and a home in the Citadel, I had never taken a moment to think of what a home truly was. And I realised in that moment that this place was more of a home than Kadear had ever been.


Thwack. Such a specific sound. Thwack. I mean, the comic books have it right. Thwack, right across the back of the hero as the villain stands over her. Sometimes I like to imagine that the world is like a blanket. Covering everything in warmth and safety. And in the blanket, there are wrinkles and swirls like galaxies and stars. When it’s just dark enough, I like to imagine visiting each one of them. Exploring the universe all right under my blanket. If I cough too much, sometimes I see the colors and those stars too. The Nurse says it’s… consumption and it makes me cough. And tired. Which is why I love my blanket universe. Whenever I’m tired, I get to dream and go to all these fantastical amazing beautiful worlds. But when I am awake. All alone. Late at night. And the worlds I’ve visited don’t want me to be there anymore, or if Darla says I shouldn’t. Thwack. Late at night, when I’m all alone. I change the universe. So I stand up, put on my blanket, and dance. I do a Hope Dance. I change my universe. And when I’m tired I get to explore entirely new worlds and stars and colors. Because I still have hope. “Hi, I’m Annabelle! Are you here to adopt me?” “Well… Annabelle, we are… thinking about it.” “Oh, well, that’s ok-” She cuts herself off in a short coughing fit, “I’m tired, can I have my blanket?” Darla stands near the door glaring. “Thimble, sweetie, Mr. Scott, and Mrs. Maranda came a very long way to meet you - “ “No, no it’s okay. I think we’ll… maybe be back and come some other time.” They quickly grab their coats and leave. Darla slams the door softly. “I’m sorry.” “For what, sweetie?” … “I’m sorry… can I have my blanket please?” Thwack My blanket is so soft and warm. It helps me feel better. I like to imagine I’m in a spaceship flying far across the galaxy. Waving Hellos to all the people I see. They all look so tiny, woven into the fabric, little smiles and faces. Everyone looks so different - Orange, Purple, Green, Blue. All saying Hello! In silent voices and waves. I can’t hear them because they’re too far away. And when I visit these worlds and dream - Dad is making breakfast and Mom is combing my hair. And I feel Home. We smile and laugh and then I have to go to the next world and find my Mom and Dad there. And we smile and sometimes we live in castles and wear beautiful dresses and we smile But… They’re not smiling today. They look sad and that makes me sad. With their sad voices and silent tears. When I feel like this and they frown, I get up and put my blanket over my head and hear beautiful silent music. And I dance. I dance and I smile and I feel happy once again, letting my feet and hands make new wrinkles and galaxies and stars. I change my universe.


\# Afterlife \## Story 1, Part 1 \_Undisclosed Location\_ "Good afternoon. Firstly, I'm very tired. Kind of hungry and I've been in...whatever this place is for 6 months." Kendra said. "Six months?!" a thin, middle-aged man yelled as he stood up. A red light clicked to life on the wall behind his chair. As the sound registered the man quickly closed his mouth and sat down. "Ok." Kendra continued as she looked at man. "You've only been here a day but, honestly. I know as little as you do. I know what's in the identical binder we all have in front of us, and I know if you lose your \_shit\_." She kept her eyes on the man. "Then the little bracelet around our wrists injects us all with \_something\_, we all pass out and when we wake up the person who lost said \_shit\_ is gone." The man at the end of the table raised his hand and began speaking without being formally acknowledged, "....fuck. Only a day? I've only been here a \_day\_? I woke up in that little room with this binder. Which I read. The door opened, I came in here to find all of you and the \_only\_ reason I'm not going out of my mind trying to find a way out of here is because what's in this binder is just crazy enough to be interesting. That, plus the meeting I had with a person I trust telling me that no matter what happens, don't freak out. That match everyone's experience?", he asked. Heads nodded around the table. Kendra found his gaze, "Nice you meet you..." "Tom." "Ok, Tom. Our job is to figure out a next step to a problem that honestly doesn't seem like it has a sane answer. So, should we get started?", she asked. Heads nodded around the table again. "Great.", Kendra said as she pressed a small button in front of her. "Recording has started. Beginning session. Acknowledging receipt of the latest information from the particle accelerator." she said, as she motioned to the page sitting on top of her binder. Identical to the pages also sitting on top of the other binders. The group has worked to decode the message and believe with some certainty that it can be translated as follows, 'Info. Restarting node 78475\_AA-3849\_cAE. Subject 193847758\_AA-33111\_KKE designation confirmed as Buddhist. Reseeded in next available host successfully. Encryption set successfully. Logging will suspend for this subject until next terminal event.'" Kendra pushed the button to stop recording and looked up at a room of tired faces. They were all sitting in a small room on a classified lunar colony which up until 10 months ago served as the observation habitat for the McMellon Super Collider. Now it was the highly classified and \_highly\_ isolated think tank for the 9 men and women seated around the table. "So. Does this message give \_anyone\_ here an idea on how we might be able to use the collider to actually see what the real world looks like instead of just reading log messages?" \### Part 2 \_ Earth. UAE. Classified Facility. \_ In a room similar to the one built on the moon two people sit facing each other. "How was your trip?", asked the heavy set man. "Not bad. I mean. Until you locked me in this room. Told me we're all in a simulation, and I can either help or be placed in a medically induced comma until I die of natural causes.", Kendra said dryly. "Yeah. It's not great. We're going to try something different with you. Instead of black bagging you, locking you in a room and letting you read a binder we're going to simply let you ask questions.", the man said. Kendra looked at him for a long moment and then said, "This is fucked." "Not a question, but I agree. Well, we're both fucked and not fucked. Nothing really changes for the world with this discovery. Though we are concerned that if the people running the show find out we know then it's lights out for us.", the man said. Kendra eyed him for a second, "So before I launch into a endless sea of questions I'd like to assume you're telling the truth. What are you trying to accomplish?" The man took a breath and said, "I don't know. No one knows. We just want to understand. Then act. Maybe. Maybe do nothing. That's the point. We literally don't know what we can do. Frankly, it's all so incredibly head trippy that every day is a small exercise in not losing my mind. I'll tell you this Ms. Romin, asking questions and trying to understand is really the \_only\_ way to keep a gun out of your mouth. Trust me on that and remember that you are being recruited because we're down a person who decided the gun made \_more\_ sense.", he said. "Ok.", Kendra said while trying very hard to read his features. Then she started asking questions: **kendra** \- When did you realize we were in a simulation? **man** \- 10 months, give or take. man - Large particle accelerator doing classified experiments on the moon found data in the energy released from a routine particle collision. Structured data. Completely alien, yet familiar. While we couldn't understand \_what\_ it was saying at first, we could understand \_what\_ it was. **kendra** \- <flips through notes> - Right, says here a lab tech thought it was a prank. That someone put a stack trace with nonsense syntax in the system to be funny. First, what's a stack trace? **man** \- Bear with me. I started off as a systems engineer, but I was never good at explaining this stuff to people. When a program has an error, the underlying system may return a message describing the error with a bit of information about what caused it. kendra - So the collider malfunctioned? **man** \- No. Fuck. I wish. No. The collider is working flawlessly. **kendra** \- What then. Some part supplied by the lowest bidder in the computers had a glitch? **man** \- The universe. **kendra** \- I'm sorry? **man** \- The \_universe\_, under a very specific set of conditions will throw an error message. In something similar to the languages we evolved to use here on "Earth". Apparently. **kendra** \- <kendra went rigid. Her mind tried very hard to get back on stable ground.> That's insane. **man** \- Look. I can see why they picked you. You're handling this very well. Insane or not it's true. The universe is an engineered system, we're inside it and we have no idea what is \_outside\_ of it. kendra - I'm handling this well because I'm sure that no matter how deep this rabbit hole is there is a rational explanation at the other end. **man** \- <shrugs> - I honestly don't have a stable opinion about that. Though that does feel aggressively optimistic. kendra - Ok. Can you give me an elevator pitch or something that kind of wraps up what you do know? **man** \- Sure. Our reality is a simulation. Part of a colonist selection process for habitable worlds. We assume at least one for each major religion on Earth. Maybe one for every religion regardless of size. We know for example that early Earth history was designed to be hard in part because a planet discovered early on required pretty tough bastards. That planet has been abandoned. Total loss. **kendra** \- <opens mouth to speak> - \[man motions for her to wait\] **man** \- The idea goes something like this. Five main corporations...or at least that's what we're calling them. Gods is what they are but that feels a bit specific considering how little information we have. These corporations own the only 5 habitable planets found so far that classify as ideal. They each have a set of guidelines for colonization to try and ensure an ideal society is created. One that won't recreate the sins of their past. Candidates apply to one of the five corporations. These are your major religions when in simulation. It's also a contract. You are free to switch religions, but you are then bound to that new contract and the old one is voided. Christianity for example has a planet that is described as a paradise. An 'Eden' I guess. Code named H3-VN. They are also among the richer corporations. The planet is a farther distance away than the others and even at near light travel it takes a while. They are looking for morally strict colonists. People who won't steal, murder, or bang their neighbors' husband no matter how much temptation they face. People who under any form of stress will always consider the greater good first. Then a bunch of other stuff - like breeding on a new world is important so things like abortion and gay marriage are kind of taboo. The flip side of all this is these corporations also need a lot of labor to get these colony ships built and on their way. Even more for all the work to do planet side. If you sign up with Christianity and \_fail\_ the test then your contract stipulates that the rest of your working life will be spent building ships, mining ore, and watching as people better than you leave for paradise. To ensure you don't do anything spiteful the contract also stipulates that a minor lobotomy will be performed so you don't mind so much. Want to hear something funny? The labor habitat that processes out the failures is in orbit around Mercury and code named H3-LL. Each corporation is like this. Islam has a planet where local radiation has caused 75% of births to be female. There are quite literally scores of virgins waiting to be impregnated by men. Fail and it's a pretty similar setup to the Christians, only their work camps are mining the rings of Saturn. We also just received confirmation that the Buddhists let you keep trying until you get it right. Decent argument for becoming a Buddhist if you ask me. Though the planet they have is pretty sparce. Not a lot to do. So their whole thing is finding the happiness within. kendra - I'm sorry. How are we even able to have this conversation? If we're in a simulation and everything is being recorded then why haven't we been killed, or patched, or whatever. **man** \- turns out these folks really enjoy their privacy rights and contracts. When you get out of this thing you have to go on living your life. Your records are sealed to prevent what amounts to a lifetime diary of potentially bat shit crazy behavior from following you around. Another neat bit. Christians review \_all\_ of your logs when you die. Every thought. Every action. Hindus look at the net good accomplished and kind of redact the details. **man** \- <continues> The other interesting thing is there is a very good chance they do know we know. Or will know eventually. The simulation uses time dilation and a lifetime in here is something like 10 minutes there. This works in our favor since it means we have amassed this information in the time it might take a tech who is monitoring the system to sip her coffee. If that long. On top of that we assume the system generates a lot of data. We are going to great lengths to generate as little noise as possible as we investigate. We have a sort of foothold that lets us query a system connected to the simulation. Best guess is what we've learned comes from archives left over from the system design. Seems abandoned or used so rarely that when we poke around there no one seems to notice. This has been the most reliable, though the same particle collision never seems to produce the same error twice. Run it once and you get a stack trace. Run it again and everything looks like a normal boring experiment. System might be self-correcting. **man** \- So that's the elevator pitch. Next question. **kendra** \- So billions of people are in a simulation all at once? **man** \- No. We don't think so. We think there are only a very small number of people in the simulation and the rest are AI. So that's a wrinkle. Don't really want to kill yourself to get out in the off chance you're just a bit of code. **kendra** \- Which do you think you are? **man** \- 'We' are likely AI. By the odds anyway. **kendra** \- Can we interact with their world? **man** \- with a smile - I knew you belonged here. That is very much the question we are trying to answer, and quickly.


"That's how you get near boiling water dumped over your head." My beautiful wife said as I wrapped my arms around her from behind. She had been fiddling with the coffee pot when I snuck up on her. "You take such good care of me." "I expect you to finish the basement today." I'd been putting off the last bits of sheet rock for weeks. We finally had our perfect home and I was still slacking off. She poured a cup of coffee and handed it off to me and then got started on her own. I'd grown accustomed to her having providence over much of the house. She was 10 years my junior, but she ran a tight ship. One of the things I adored about her is she would call me on my BS. "Sam stop leaving your socks on the floor, Sam put the toilet seat down." Living alone for your 20's leaves bad habits deeply engrained. She turned to me with a smirk on her face. " I'll shower, you get to work!" "As you wish." Quoting one of the greatest movies of all times. I want to complain about having to work on household improvements on my time off from work, but my heart wouldn't be in it. In fact I'm thrilled that my wife encourages me to not lay around and read all day. The sheet rock went faster than I had anticipated. A few screws, a bit of mudding and our basement no longer looked like a dungeon. Just as I had capped the bucket of mud I heard feet rushing down the stairs. I looked up to see my wife in all her naked glory running full boar at me. She jumped at the last second, into my arms almost toppling me over. She was planting kisses all over my face doing her best to smother me. "We did it! We freaking did it!" Her joy was infectious. In between giggles I asked " What did we do? Finish the basement? I know, I'm here." "No you big dumb idiot! We did it!" She had been waving something in my face that I had been all too distracted to see. I craned my neck back to try to get a lock on the stick she was waving around haphazardly. Shock took over my limps. I couldn't figure out if I needed to collapse or drop her. Luckily she had a death grip on me so she wouldn't be falling out of my arms. "Hold the phone! Are you telling me you're pregnant?" She bore holes into me with her eyes before attempting to once again end me with a make out session. " Yes!Yes!Yes!Yes! Finally! Do you have any idea how many of these damn tests I've been taking?" "I didn't even know we had them." "Of course you didn't. I take out the bathroom trash every time I use one." She finally extended her legs to floor and with a final kiss on the lips she turned away from me. "It's finally happening. I'm going to be a mother." The lights flickered and her voice took on a low growl. She ever so slowly turned back around. The timely flicker of the lights made it seem like she was skipping portions of the turn. After ending her turn and staring straight at me she opened her mouth to speak. "Beep!" "Beep!" "Beep!" "Beep!" I opened my eyes and I was once again in bed alone. I lay there feeling the depths of my love for my wife and my unborn child. Knowing that they weren't real. Just something my brain created to pass the time. In the early dawn light, I could recall our wedding, our first kiss, and signing the paperwork for our house. Now all that was left of her was a seemly bottomless pit left in the center of my chest.


My name is John Livingston. I am the 42nd spokesbird for the Brooklyn Birds Confederation. I am a willet, or you can call me Tringa Semipalmata if you want to use your high school Latin once in a lifetime. I am named after the legendary Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I encourage you to Google him. We willets are the selected species for the spokesbird of the BBC. The first time we were selected for this duty at around 1820 when a few of us confused our migration path and never left Brooklyn again. We were selected specifically because of our inspiring voices that are perfectly suitable for any kind of public speaking. We birds do not host any TED Talks, but if we were, the most-watched ones would have been the ones presented by us willets. You homo sapiens generally write and read our words as will, will, willet, will, will, willet — even though it is much more complicated than that. Anyways, today, I am not here to talk about us, but you. Since the recent COVID-19 pandemic, you, and I am not talking about all of you, but about those voyeuristic perverts of you, got out of control watching our private lives. For the record, we are terribly sorry about the pandemic and glad that this time it wasn’t from us. As a reminder, bats are not birds; they are mammals. For years, we birds tolerated your perverted actions. We, I must say, even liked it up to a certain extent. Bird watching as you call it when kept in limits, is understandable. We, too, use online maps that are connected to your bird watching apps to draw strict borders to define where this vice can happen. These defined places include parks, arboretums, lakes, and some private houses of the filthiest of yours. Parks and so are public places. They are for all of us. We are smart enough to be considerate of our actions in those areas. Even in our mating season, we keep our private lives away from those places. Homes, on the other hand, are a little different. Not all of us are interested in the delicious nuts you leave for us going through hell and high water to keep them away from the squirrels — our sworn enemies. Some of us, especially Instagram influences like red cardinals, have their moral sentiment. They feel ok with special home visits. I must say, it should be very hard to resist those red-cardinal-attracting bird feeders on Amazon. No sir; we are not jealous. Absolutely not. Their body; their choice. Once again, when it is limited to designated areas for a few of you, we like being the center of attention. I must add: “All birds equally love being watched, but red cardinals more equally love being watched.” Now I ask you: where is the problem? Let me explain. All around the world, quarantines, and shelter in place orders were released. And you fine people, very well, obeyed them. When all of you are stuck in your homes, jobless, or with jobs with so-called (flies a foot above the podium and makes air quotes with its feet here) working from suitable jobs, your balconies, patios, and even regular windows become screens to our private lives. What we eat. When we sleep. How we sing. And even, pardon my french, how we mate become the new binge-worthy series to your eyes. Your social media posts and respectable news institutions’ stories that are talking about how we sing, where to find us and so, are encouraging people for this meretricious activity. Amateur bird watchers, who don’t know the rules for respectable interaction, increase their headcount every day. Another pair of eyes appear on our behinds every three seconds. Photographers, who cannot shoot fashion models anymore, zooming into our bedrooms. Musicians, who cannot go to their studios, stealing our songs. People, ordinary people try tricks in all shapes and sizes to get us closer. Now I ask you. No. Now I beg you. Please. A Little bit of privacy.


The Captain slid into the seat behind the control panel. He glanced over at his partner/co-pilot/wife seated next to him. She was busy running scans on the planet below. They had found this planet worthy of a great deal of time, unlike most of the worlds they had explored on this voyage. Many of the systems they had traveled through on this journey were of little interest. Huge gas giant planets circling huge, extremely hot stars, no chance of life. The last system had been some small, frozen rocky planets orbiting a burned-out brown dwarf star. If life had ever graced this system, it had died out eons ago. Some worlds they encountered had very basic life forms, single-cell plants, and animals. Some worlds had more advanced creatures capable of communication, rudimentary forms of civilization, and mechanization. But this planet, this one was very different. Even before they had approached the planet they were receiving electromagnetic impulses radiating from it. The impulses were far stronger than anything that could have been occurring naturally. The Captain plotted a course to slip in behind a moon that was orbiting this planet. He was going to approach the planet very cautiously. His ship was of the most advanced series available when he and his partner left on their voyage of discovery. It had the ability to deflect energy around it, and thus be invisible to most scanning or tracking attempts. He engaged the machinery to ensure their presence was not noticed if by some unthinkable chance the planet was inhabited by an advanced species of beings. The Captain and his partner spent some time as they hid behind the planet’s moon analyzing the data they had collected as they approached the planet. The planet seemed to be an excellent habitat for carbon-based lifeforms. The planet enjoyed a very stable orbit around its star. The presence of the sizable moon they were hiding behind caused tidal forces on the planet’s surface to circulate the sizable collection of water present on the surface. Analysis of the surface and sub-surface data collected showed an abundant supply of minerals necessary for any advanced civilization. The Captain and his partner finished their work with all the data they had. The Captain decided it was time to swing into an orbit around the planet and continue their studies. As they settled into an orbit just above the planet’s atmosphere, they began to collect and analyze the enormous amount of electromagnetic radiation being generated on the planet’s surface. As the Captain looked through the analyses of the data, a strange thought began to form in his mind. “Is this their form of communication,” he wondered. He had read of ancient uses of electromagnetic communications, but that technology had died out long ago. As he studied the data he saw patterns emerging. Some of the EMC was scattered in all directions from single points. Apparently, the message was intended to be received by anyone with an appropriate device. Some EMC was directed from point to point, apparently in an attempt to control access to the message. His analysis led him to understand that the beings on this planet had multiple modes of communication. Decoding some of the signals his machinery intercepted enabled him to see that the transmission of images was a big part of their communications. The transmissions had images of the beings interacting with each other, some images of what appeared to be their written languages, and also some images of lesser creatures these beings appeared to enjoy interacting with. The Captain was troubled by one aspect of the analysis. After allocating some of the signal to the images, some of it to simply being the medium by which the message flowed, and allowing for other technical matters, there was one channel of data being transmitted he could not crack. He broadened his search and expanded the signals the machinery would intercept. He soon found not only streams with image channels and the mystery channel, but he also found points of transmission of nothing but the mystery material. These transmissions had no images, just the data stream he could not crack. Perplexed, he brought his partner into the work of understanding this mystery. With a fresh perspective on the matter, she asked herself if there was any correlation between the image data and the mystery data. She watched the images produced by the data streams. The beings took many forms, engaged in a huge variety of activities, and she began to notice patterns between their movements and the mystery data stream. Sometimes the mystery data signal would generate a reaction that caused great excitement. Sometimes the mystery data signal generated what appeared to be a state of peace in the beings. As she worked with the machinery interpreting the EMC received from the surface she pondered the conversions her machines were making. The very high frequency signals created the images. The ultra-high frequency signals created other styles of communications. Hidden in the mystery stream were very low frequency signals. Signal frequencies too low to be played on the imaging machines. She isolated the very low frequency signals and watched the reactions of the beings when exposed to the signals. Some seemed happy, some sad. She found some visual image streams where large numbers of the beings would gather, and soon the mystery data stream would show huge patterns of activity. She had to devise a way to convert the the mystery data signal to something she could experience. She and the Captain had watched huge amounts of images. The machinery was very adept at transforming the signals into a format their eyes could process. She needed to convert the mystery data signal into something she could feel. She ran the problem through the computer, and it presented an answer. She routed the mystery data signal through the power supply of a small vibrator used to process samples of soil and other solid material. The varying frequencies of the signal would cause the vibrator to change its vibratory pattern to match the signal. She could touch the machine and feel the patterns as the signals went through it. She turned the little machine on and put the signal through it. As she laid her hand on the machine, she felt a soothing pattern of vibrations. Falling and rising in intensity and strength, it seemed to communicate something. She had never felt something like this before. The vibrations seemed to touch her deeply. She began to understand how this phenomenon could have such an impact on the beings of this planet. As she sat there enjoying the vibrations, speculating what they could be communicating to the beings of the planet, she put two more of her hands on the vibrating machine. The Captain walked into the room, surprised to see the blissful look on her face. He walked over and touched the machine, surprised to feel the vibrations. He could understand why she seemed to be enjoying whatever she was experiencing. The vibrator was a poor loud speaker, but it was a very suitable device for the Captain and his partner to experience the phenomenon. As they stood there transfixed by this new strange phenomenon, the mystery signal filled the room, “O come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant………..


This is a spin-off (if thats what its called?) of a friend of mine's story. I took some liberties with the rules of magic a tad, but I hope it holds up to what he had originally imagined. Also, because I enjoy having stories read to me, I decided to read this one aloud: And lastly, anyone familiar with Chapter 1 of The Princess Bride might recognize a few familiar lines. I hope they seem more in homage to Goldman's (\*ahem\* I mean, S. Morgenster's) work than ripping it off. \ “IT WORKED!” I shouted with such force, my body was shot upright in the bed, my hands raised above me in fists of triumph and awe. Immediately after the minor celebration, a new, haunting realization came over me. “It …worked.” My arms lowered to my side and my eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness. There was a window in front of me, covered by horizontal slats that let in different hues and strengths of light. They didn’t flicker like candles, but they did grow and shrink. Sometimes moving from left to right, quickly, sometimes flashing and disappearing. Each one illuminating the small space I was now occupying. Strange sounds I had never heard creeping in along with the lights. I slowly became aware of the two eyes staring at me, high up in the corner of the room. I was almost shocked at how long it had taken me to notice. Familiar in their shape and meaning, the creature was sat atop a solid structure with drawers and openings. *Of course, she would have a cat.* *But are you… are you* ***my*** *cat?* *One way to find out…* I slowly tried to exit myself from the bed, noting how immensely soft and delicate the fabrics and coverings and cushioning were. *Was she royalty?* *Surely not royal to have sleeping quarters so small…* I made a clicking noise with my tongue. “Here… little kitty.” I whispered slowly. “I’m sorry you’re confused.” The cat’s ears twitch backwards and its head lowered, slightly. *Amazing creatures, to recognize me as someone unknown so immediately.* “You probably miss her, don’t you? It’ll be ok, Kitty.” I spoke softly as I lowered my head toward the cat. *You’ll get your answers in time.* *In the meanwhile, you’ll discover I’m just as patient as you.* I could tell dawn was breaking as a familiar, slow-moving glow began to fill the room. And then, I saw it. I saw… me. A mirror from floor to ceiling was affixed to the wall adjacent to the bed, and my body gasped. She was… frail. Her hair, mashed to one side, most likely due to the softness of her pillows. Her chest was sunken in somewhat and her arms, weak. She had markings of different colors all over the tops of both shoulders that ran down her back and sides; drawings of woodland critters and flora. I ran my hands across her collarbone and I could feel how thin her skin was. *This…is me?* *How is this…pathetic creature …me?* Up until this point, I had assumed the spell had worked perfectly. The transportation of all higher lifeforms from my word to this one was supposed to be a …parallel move, of sorts. Technically, this body belonged to me. Just, not the me that grew up in *my* world. But how could any version of me seem so absolutely underwhelming? She looked tired. The type of tired that builds over time, as if she hasn’t known a normal routine of health and sleep for months on end. And she felt just the same - used up and worn out, empty, and short of breath on most inhales. Worse than physically inept, she felt powerless. I flexed her fingertips and felt nothing. No spark, no flash of ability, no electricity at all. This woman was wholly and utterly inadequate. Untethered to any strong form of elemental or etherial magic, I wondered if I had gotten something wrong. *Surely, there is no universe in which I am so disturbingly pathetic?* *This is not the body of Ardnaxela, Witch of the Wildes, Unchalleneged Sorceress of the Bloodmoon Mages, The Midnight Feline, The Last Dragontamer, Rider of -* I gasped as my eyes met hers, still ice-blue and yet somehow less alive. “Petrix.” His name left my lips as a whisper, but it fell so heavy, it brought me to my knees. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t…I didn’t want to…” I kept repeating single syllable words and simple phrases. My mind hadn’t decided if I should keep crying or start yelling and somehow, I ended up doing both. *Would any goodbye have been enough?* *What would you have wanted to say, witch?* *Nothing could have changed how it was going to end, you knew that.* “I know…I know…I just… ” Her body convulsed as I sobbed, broken and alone, truly alone. Magic was gone. My own body was changed. The world I loved, lost, perhaps forever. And yet somehow, I knew I could live without those things. But I wasn’t sure how to hold up my own head knowing Petrix was out there, in *this* world, living a completely different life than the one he shared with me. “My Petrix, **my** dragon.” I felt my shoulders get hot saying those words. *Mine*. I was angry. I was possessive. But why should I have been? Are dragons ever owned? Certainly not by bewitched witches and the longings of my innermost parts. The secret things. The neediness. I had to let go. “Forgive me…forgive me, my Favourite.” I had told him to look for me. That was the last thing I had said to him. And yet I wasn’t even sure he would be capable of remembering. “Would my Petrix ever forget?” It isn’t a fair question to ask. I had no idea how this spell would work. I don’t know if it is possible for him to remember the old world, let alone the short years he spent with me. I buried my face in my hands and let myself feel the weight of his absence. I was unlinked. I couldn’t feel the wind under his wings, the heat of his breath, the strength in his scales. I couldn’t feel anything. When my tears began to run dry, I lifted my head and stared at my gaunt reflection, eyelids swollen with sorrow. *That’s enough.* *Let go.* It began to dawn on me just how little I understood this spell. If it was capable of sending me to this world, this undesired version of myself, what else went wrong? I knew others had made the jump with me, and I had tried to ensure that only the people in liege with the General had transferred, but now I wasn’t so sure. And suddenly, hope. “Is it wrong to be excited that the war might not be over? That someone…unwelcome may have tagged along?” Life without a dragon wouldn’t be worth it. But if I unknowingly placed an entire world at risk by bringing such a destructive force with me, then I had no choice but to set it right. My reflection smirked and I realized that as soon as I figured out how to pull magic in this world, I would fix her hideous snaggletooth. And then, of course, save everyone. Again.


The deer carcass on the edge of town was found lying next to an old tree by Heather on her morning walks. Her screams woke the tiny town of Hawthorne from its slumber. Dead animals were a common sight in the village. Hunting was a way of life, and if humans didn't kill it, a larger animal surely did. This deer's killer was clearly neither human nor animal. It had chunks of flesh torn in a symmetrical fashion, and a purple substance in the wounds. A few yards into the woods from the deer; two piles of the purple substance mixed with meat was found. Alien invasion hysteria gripped Hawthorne. Heather was briefly accused of killing the deer herself and being a traitor to humanity. Heather responded by slapping her accuser, and the matter was resolved. Three lone hunters took it upon themselves to hunt the beast themselves. One got lost and returned at sunset. One was found dead the next morning. The last survived and was traumatized by what he saw through his binoculars. Six long scale covered legs climbed through the trees like a car. Four tentacles vibrated around it. Two faced in the direction it traveled while the other two were constantly changing directions. The body was oblong and covered in fur. A fur pouch on the side covered a small slug with a mouthful of teeth drooling purple slime. He assumed another slug was on the other side. The town was divided on how to handle this alien threat. One group wanted to carry on its life as normal. This creature was no different than a bear or a puma. If it got in their way, they would shoot it and hope that it had enough meat for dinner. Another group wanted to leave town and start a new life. They were reminded that the world outside of Hawthorne was a wasteland, and the creature could follow them. The group decided to stay, but they would be sure to propose moving at every opportunity. A third group wanted the glory of the hunt; the surviving hunter reminded them that another hunter had died hunting the beast. The last group wanted to do a combination of setting up a watch around the town for security and send out parties to gather information on the creature but not confront it. In a shocking twist of events, reason prevailed, and the last group won. The watchers observed the creature never went near the town. When small parties of six were sent to the forest, they found a variety of animal carcasses and purple slime near the bodies. The creature was sighted running past the information parties, but it never confronted them. With this information, it was hypothesized that the creature was intelligent enough to not attack large groups, and it needed nutrients that were lacking in Earth creatures. This information changed group dynamics at the next meeting. The group that wanted to live life as normal proposed to continue living life as normal. The group that wanted to leave, proposed leaving again. This time, they proposed moving somewhere with nicer weather. The cautious group desired to continue studying the creature. The hunters had already left the meeting to kill it. Chip and Ken were two of those hunters. Their heads crouched and scanned the perimeter for signs of the creature. Their shotguns were close to their chests prepared to fire. When a deer ran behind them, Chip turned and shot it. Ken castigated Chip for wasting ammo especially since he missed the deer which was now running away from them. Fortune favored the stupid, and the creature dropped from the canopy to consume the deer. Ken stopped criticizing Chip and began running towards the creature shooting at it. Chip followed and fired his gun as well. Chip continued to be a poor shot as every pellet misses the creature. He did manage to hit a bird fleeing the fight. The creature did not move from its meal. Several of its tentacles were struck by bullets and drop to the ground. Its legs went limp crushing the carcass beneath it. The two slugs drooled purple slime. Chip and Ken stood over the body and fired several rounds into it until they were certain its dead. The town had no research facilities to study the creature so they buried it. A minor cult formed around the creature in the weeks after its death. The location of its burial was forgotten causing the cult to disappear quickly. Chip and Ken were briefly treated as town heroes until Chip crashed his car into Gayle's farm. They were then regarded as idiots again. Some long for the chance to study the creature further. The presence of an alien briefly made life exciting, and the existence of life in the stars posed engaging philosophical questions. If only Hawthorne could be graced by another alien creature, one that would not be murdered by local hunters. Until then, it was luck and stupidity that killed the beast.


They sat opposite each other at a table outside a Spanish bar. The man watched the girl watching the sun near the faraway hills. A clock ticked. The hills were long and gray. Trains passed nearby. Every once in a while the man took a drag of his cigarette. The girl did not smoke. "You sure you don't want to eat?" the man asked. "I'm sure." The man took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled smoke the color of the hills. "They look like gray mastodons," the girl said, the setting sun reflected in her eyes. "I've never seen one." "No, you wouldn't have. You're too young." "I might have. I could be older than you think. Just because you say I'm too young doesn't prove anything." "Just wait," the girl said. "We've been waiting for millenia," the man said. "Be patient. I can start to taste the darkness and it tastes of licorice. That's how it tasted last time." "I don't taste anything." "You're too young," the girl said, and the man said nothing and took a drag of his cigarette. A train stopped. An older couple exited one of the cars and sat down at the table outside the bar on the same chairs in which the man and girl were sitting. They blended together. "Once more for old time's sake?" the man said. The girl said nothing. The man sighed. The couple ordered beers and talked about Madrid. The man lit another cigarette. "It doesn't have to happen. I can stop it," the girl said. The sun was almost touching the horizon. "I'm bored," the man said. "It's not so bad." "It's dull. I miss seeing new universes and trying new physics." The girl looked at the hills. "I just don't care for it anymore," the man said. "It's ours." "We'll make another." The sun touched the edge of the world, bathing it in pink light. The older couple went silent. "Anyway, it's too late now," the girl said. Somebody screamed. The sun had cracked, and its light poured out onto the landscape in globules like flesh colored mercury which seeped into the hills. The older couple stood up. The man took a drag of his cigarette. The girl watched as the gray hills infused with light rose from the landscape as luminous mastodons. "You know I'd do anything for you," the man said. "I know." The mastodons began feasting on the future. The present slowed. The older couple sat down and began talking about Madrid backwards. "It's really a simple annihilation," the girl said. Having consumed the future, the mastodons turned to the present. "It's for the best." The older couple got up and walked to the train in reverse. The train un-arrived, then trains hadn't been invented, Spain and civilization disappeared, and for a while brown mastodons walked among the gray ones. Then they were gone. Existence condensed to a single point. "We'll be happy," the man said. "Yes," the girl said. The point—.


The days grew short this time, like usual. A harsh, cold wind sleekly gliding down the cold concrete stairwell and into J's home. His first awareness was of freezing chill, then of dark sky's beyond his barred window. God it was cold, like a bucket of water in Winter, making him shiver in every stinging breath. "Fuck-" He said through chattering teeth, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Goodmorning." He spoke to himself, internally noting the irony. It was neither good, nor morning, it was around 5PM, the grey sun already on the horizon, kissing the sky dark with cloud and rain. Leaning his bare chest against the wall beneath the window, he could just about see the ground below, barren and lifeless for what seemed to be miles. Nothing's changed. With a euphoric stretch, J drudged out of the dark room and into the hall. A voice spoke from the opposite room. "Morning, Big J." It was a friend. Turning to look, J saw his face between the bars on his door. A strong jaw complimented by grey stubble and grassy eyes softened by a pair of round glasses, slightly crooked on his button-like nose. Despite having white hair, he was not evidently any older than J, maybe Twentyish, possibly Thirty. His name was Simon, though a family name eluded both of them. "Morning, Simon." The routine was simple, wake up, greet Simon, eat food, die of boredom, go to sleep. That's what made it so brain numbingly tedious. Simon was the only other person J had talked to in what seemed like years, and an exit always seemed so close. That door at the other end of the hallway leading to the stairs down, but forever remaining locked. J experienced what he referred to as a "Blue Demon", wherein he would be subject to cry-laughter and mania, screaming and bellowing and maddening throes. At once he fell to his knees, eyes beset by hot tears. He screamed like an unoiled gate until his voice grew hoarse. He punched the hard ground until his fists painted the floor, and he called to the sky as if to challenge all who listened. He cried out in pain and anguish, not quite knowing why. Eventually, the Blue Demon left him, and he clutched his sore hands to his naked chest in regret. "Fuck." Was all he knew to say. Following his episode, J entered to totally empty Kitchen, a room with high windows and open spaces, decorated by cracks in the concrete and stains of blood from previous Blue Demons. Easily dozens of them lined the wals and floors, along the counter where he prepared the food, on the tables where he ate it, in the sinks where he left his dishes, on the floors where he laid and cried. Just a single clay cup of cold water and a stick of lentils, which he consumed within the minute and returned to his room, just as barren as the kitchen, with just as much blood. "Remember anything yet?" Simon asked across the hall. "Still nothing, you?" "Fuck-all, it's like a blackbox in here." "Mmm." J leaned against the wall, the light from the setting sun just vanishing from his room. "How long has it been now?" J asked. "Since what?" "Since the Ice Box." Simon understood at once, and let out a cheek-flapping breath. "Like, four months? I dunno, man, it gets real foggy after a while." "Tell me about it, I'm half tempted to join him." Simon fell quiet for a moment, and J felt that those words were best for himself alone. "I'm sorry-" He said, letting his eyes shift to a corner. "You can't leave me, J." "I know, I'm sorry." The two settled into an uncomfortable silence. Until J was fairly certain Simon had passed asleep. Once again rising, J returned to the kitchen, where he ventured to the very back of the room, to a windowless door. Pressing one hand against it, J felt a rush of white chill bleed from the gap as it opened. With a final heave, J pushed the door fully open, but stood away from the threshold. At the end of the cold, bright room, the say the emaciated form of Dás, sitting with hairs clung together by ice, and features made heavy with thick frost. His pale blue skin had sunk to his bones, and his limp figure had slumped back against the wall. For whatever reason, J kept thinking about him, about the young boy laying in the Ice Box. The last he had seen him move was the aforementioned four months prior, when Dás had occupied the third room on the hall. Now that room stood remote, and the Ice Box stood hauntingly close. An escape, but an end. J wondered how alone they truly were in this building, if he and Simon were the last ones, or if this tower on the edge of nowhere housed more just like him, willing to fight for a while, not remembering why, until eventually... ...they would step into the Ice.


The roaring of the crowd filled the stadium as the tall oak doors, worn and torn by hundreds of centuries of battle. The Trials were starting. A new Commandment was needed. The doors open to a large stadium with barbed wire at the top where the edge meets the stands. The smell of blood and rust filled the air. My father stood in the stands at the top in a large suite with almost unlimited wine and mead. "Welcome all to The Trials," my father stood up and announced, his voice was booming, "As you may know, we are in need of a new member of the Ten Commandments. These Trials will determine who will fill that role. The first Trial is trial by combat. The first round is my daughter, Lauren," the crowd roared and cheered as I raised my fist, " Against the most dangerous foe in all of Hell and The Demon Realm, The Brooded Wendigo King." The door on the other side of the stadium opened slowly as a loud guttural roar resonated in my very soul. A large beast came out from the door. It was very tall, with lanky arms that reached the waist of its twenty feet frame. Its antlers were very dark, almost black in color and they were really thin. It had pale skin that was bone white with no lips but a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. They were perfect hunting machines. "Let the Trials begin," my father announced before sitting down. It charged unnaturally fast. I was armed with my Demon powers and a small knife. I knew I had to take this thing out quickly. I rolled to the side as it stopped a few feet behind me. I threw a ball of hellfire at the back of its neck. It screamed and turned to face me, I smiled as I released my Demon Mark, letting my emotions take over. It charged again and tried to swipe at my head, a whirlwind of darkness encompassed it as I clenched my fist. It got an arm out and swiped at my face, hitting me. It sent me into a wall maybe thirty feet away from the center. I slammed into the wall, hearing bones snap and crack, blood came from the back of my head and my nose. It broke out of the whirlwind of darkness, sniffing the air for its victim. When it smelled me, I got up. "Damn it, it's strong," I thought as I got started to black out, feeling an ancient power come out. I looked at the thing and focused on it as I dashed up to it, hitting it hard in its ribs. It screamed and tried to scratch at my head, but I dodged out of pure instinct. I was shocked at what I just did, my body acted on its own. A fire engulfed my hand and set his entire right side on fire. It roared in pain as I took advantage of it, taking my knife into its throat. I slit its throat, kicking off its body to land in front of it. It was screaming and roaring in agony as I threw one last fireball at its left side. It roared one last time as it went to its knees, falling over dead with a thud. I was panting and came to, realizing what I did. The crowd was roaring and cheering as my father was in awe at my power. "Lauren goes onto the next round." I went back to the preparation area where the other Demons were waiting to fight. A royal guard came down and smiled, "Your father requested your presence." I smile and follow the royal guard as my wounds slowly heal. It took a few minutes to get to my father's suite. It had gold and maroon everywhere. Next to him was a bottle of wine half empty. He was sitting at his throne with a hooded figure next to him, whispering to him. He had dark robes black in color and he had a large sword on his hip, it was maybe seven feet long compared to his tall frame. His skin was light but tanned as the tip of his nose and the tip of his lips were visible under his hood. His eyes were one thing that stood out, they were dark red like congealed blood. They were also slightly silver as well as his eyes switched color. I couldn't hear what they were talking about as I bowed in front of the throne silently. It took a second as my father looked towards me and smiled. "Lauren, thank you for joining me," he gestured towards the man, "This is a friend of mine, Mael.” The man smiled and bowed, "It is my pleasure to serve you," his voice had a lot of bass. "It's nice to meet you. Now father, what did you need?" I asked as I stood up. "You did a really good job. I'm proud of you." "Thank you, father," I say, knowing that he doesn't mean it. "Rest easy, your next Trial will be harder," he stood up and smiled, going to my left side and putting his right hand on my left shoulder. I slapped it off and went to the preparation area, a little pissed that he would have the audacity to say he was proud. He's only proud if I do well in battle. "Come on, you pathetic waste of space! Get your ass up!" he often told me during training, "You know you will never be like your brothers." I clenched my fist with wrath as my Demon Mark was showing brightly, the unholy mark pulsed on my forehead in tandem with my heartbeat. "I will become the next Queen," I thought to myself. The next match was about to start. Another Demon against a Seven Deadly Sin member, a clear winner. The match began with the Demon charging at the Seven Deadly Sin, Wrath, as she smiled. Wrath stood there and waited as the Demon charged. She was armed with nothing and the Demon was armed with a spear. She activated her Demon Mark, sending a pressure wave to the Demon's chest. It left a hole six inches wide. The Demon gasped, grabbing his chest. "Damn you!" the Demon yelled and charged. Wrath smiled bigger, waiting for them to get close before slapping their head clean off. She used the spear to disembowel them. Black blood was pouring out as their organs started to fall out. Their small intestine was the first one to fall on the sandy arena floor, his large intestine not long after. The crowd roared in excitement. She bowed and went to her side of the arena. A day passed since the first set of The Trials. Out of the nearly fifty participants, only a handful remain. My father stood up from his throne and smiled, putting his goblet down on a silver platter, "Ladies and gentlemen of The Demon Realm, this is the second Trial. The Trial of Endurance. This will test your endurance and your ability to think on your feet. You will be finding sets of daggers with a dragon handle in less than fifteen minutes in the Blood Forest of The Demon Realm. While you're searching, you will be hunted by each other, monsters, and Wendigos. There will be only two sets of three daggers, so only two can come back. Now, you will be armed with nothing but your powers." While my father was explaining the Trial, Wrath came up to me and she smiled at me. It was unusual for her to smile. She almost never smiled in a sweet way like she did. "Lauren, you know that you will never be as powerful as your brothers. You're a disgrace to the Demon race. Your fight with the Wendigo King was lucky. Your entire existence was luck," She bluntly told me I said nothing as searing anger rose just below the surface. "You are nothing but a disappointment to your parents. They only kept you around to kill you off in The Trials." I stayed silent, sighing a little as the anger rose. A member of the Commandments fired a pillar of lightning in the air to signal the start. We start running to the forest, the smell of blood overpowering our enhanced senses. As we left, the sound of distant roars came out as the Wendigos were released. Our blood ran cold, motivating us to run faster. The forest was filled with trees with red leaves, the smell of iron and death filled the forest. I looked around frantically, but determined to prove her wrong. "Dad, you will see that I deserve the spot," I thought to myself, "I will prove him wrong." When the smell of iron was the strongest, it clouded my mind like I was in a fog. My body moved on its own to a dagger nearby. I created wings from darkness and flapped up in the air as squawk heard. They were Brooded Demons, a flying Demon who is guided by the desire to kill all who the summoner told it to. "Shit," I whisper to myself as I start to fly faster towards somewhere. One of the Demons caught me by the leg, grabbing it and biting deep into my calf. I screamed and turned around, using a fireball and throwing it at its shoulder area, expecting it to move. It stayed in its current position and caught up. I had to use a Hell Strom, clutching my fist and trapping the pursuer in a whirlwind of Hell energy. I took advantage of its idleness to gain distance on it, going down to the thick canopy of red leaves and blood rivers. I perched myself on a branch in the canopy to address the bite. I looked down at it and winced, the outer parts of the outline were black. It looked like the skin was rotting. I took off my shirt and tied it up like a tourniquet. While I was tying my bite, I heard screams and cries for help in the background. Not everyone is fit for The Trials. The screams of the other Demons filled the air as the skin near my calf began to rot away. I had to move fast. I let my instincts take over to find the next dagger. The next dagger was about 300 meters away on the banks of a blood river, a Demon was dead clutching it. I smiled as I took it. The smell of iron was overpowering. I quickly covered my nose. While I was flying away to the next dagger. I passed another Demon with a dagger. I stopped dead in my tracks as the Demon did. They turned to me and looked at me in absolute fear. "Hand it over. You're weak anyway," I tell them They nodded and handed me the dagger. I sliced off their head quickly, smiling a little. When the time was up, it was just me and Wrath. We were given rudimentary weapons, swords and spears and shields. I was given a large spear and shield. She was given nothing. She grinned ear to ear, "Surprising you survived. I assumed you died. That was just out of luck." My father stood up and cleared his throat, "Well, this is the final Trial. The Final Trial of Combat. In this fight, you aren't allowed to use your powers. Only the weapons provided and fists. This will decide who is worthy of the Commandment of Love. Let the battle begin!" At that moment, she dashed towards me and almost immediately knocked me off balance. I let the ancient power take over, dodging out of instinct. She didn't react and tried to end the fight immediately by snapping my neck. He put me into a headlock. I struggled as much as I could until I let my anger take over, I breathed in and took a chunk from her arm. She screamed, letting me go. I took advantage of it and knocked her off her feat. I let rage and hatred take over, pinning her to the ground. I unleashed a fury of blows on her face, laughing a little to myself. "I'm a disgrace?! You are nothing more than shit on my boot! You know nothing of my power! I am the daughter of the Demon King and heir to the throne. You're nothing!" I yelled and screamed as she begged for mercy. "Please! Stop!" she begged as she was pounded into paste. I stopped and smiled a little, standing tall, "Those who ask for mercy are too weak to deserve it," I finally slammed my foot into her head, splitting it into multiple pieces. I panted as my arms burned and felt like they weighed a ton. The crowd roared in applause. "The winner is Lauren," My father smiled as I spit on her body. Several hours later in my father's quarters He smiled as he held an orb the size of his palm. It had his crest on its surface. "With your win, you will be the leader of the Ten Commandments. Do you swear that you will lead the Commandments as best as you can and be loyal to me?" I nodded, "I do," I bowed a little. "Ten they are in good hands," he pushed the orb into my chest. The orb absorbed into my body and immediately felt the power. It made me feel worthy, powerful, and able.