Summer Night

Jordan was sitting on the porch, waiting for Tharrus to come home.  It was a warm summer night, and fireflies were floating about in the end of another lazy day.  Just another week.  She reminded herself.  One more week, and I'll be back in Nineveh.  Tharrus always liked bringing her out in the country during the summer.  It was just to keep her safe when she wasn't in school; there were plenty of ways a Minian could get into trouble in Nineveh, and the thought of her being home all day made her mother crazy.  So the compromise was that she'd live in the city while she went to school, but had to live out here in the middle of nowhere when during the summer.  She had to admit, though Nineveh had things to do, it was nice to get away from the weekly rampages of some Minian that just learned how to throw fire or something.  

She checked the time.  11:00pm, and still no sign of Tharrus' car winding up the dusty old road.  She pulled her necklace's pendant, thought about opening it and summoning him.  Tharrus wouldn't know she'd used her powers, and she'd finally have someone to talk to.  She held it in her grip, but turned back to the trees.  She'd give him ten more minutes.

The otherwise still night of croaking toads and chirping crickets was interrupted by something.  The leaves in the nearby trees swished unnaturally, and she heard a small branch snap before it slowly fell to the forest floor.  Probably a couple squirrels.  She thought.  

"Jordan Styx."  Jordan heard the voice before the footsteps.  She turned around to find someone standing between her and the door back inside.  He was a man of average build, carrying a large book under his arm.  "How long did you think you could hide?"

The obvious thing to do was run, but he'd expect that.  She kept her necklace hidden, clutching it tightly and ready to open it.  He started walking forward, and she backed up.  "Who are you?  What do you want?"  The question wasn't just to buy time; this person wasn't wearing Enforcement armor, and didn't have any kind of distinguishing insignia on his clothes.  

"He took me, and He brought me back.  It is for this reason He calls me Enoch."  He said, still advancing.  He suddenly stopped, opening his book and flipping to a random page.  "You, Jordan Styx, are a summoner.  From the moment of your conception, you were commanded crude imitations of life, breathing breath into the dust just as He did for us.  But, this not your crime.  Six years ago, you caused the death of an innocent man, Randal O'Niel."  Jordan knew what he was talking about.  Randal was far from innocent in her mind, but if she'd just listened and kept the pendant shut...

"I was still learning how to use my powers; I didn’t have any control over them before.."

"And you don't to this day."  Enoch said, closing the book.  In a flash of light, the book vanished from his hand, replaced with a sword that reflected the light of the moon and held it.  "The abomination controls you more than you do it.  Your life and its... existence have grown so tightly intertwined that one cannot be undone without the other.  You and it will become one in the same, and I cannot allow such a monstrosity to run rampant."  Sword glinting, he charged toward without another word.  Jordan flicked open the pendant and pressed her hand to the rune inside.

Enoch's sword was caught a few inches from her neck, its momentum stirring a breeze.  A tendril of black miasma had moved to block the strike, bending and shifting under the weight of the swing.  Enoch had to jump back to dodge the torrent of shadows that came slicing toward him, almost invisible contrasted against the night.  Something with strange markings along its body walked past her.  The rune on the inside of the pedant was etched into its skin, over and over again, and an iron held a crack in its chest shut.  A soft light could be seen inside it, contrasting against the shadows that bent and bowed around it.  From a distance, nobody would notice its muddy skin.

Looooong Story

The wind started to pick up again as Itki jumped back through the cabin's window.  She was training with her new staff as much as she could, but Myron always wanted her inside before it got dark.She shook the snow off her head and walked across the single room to the fireplace.  Myron was still there, reading another ancient-looking tome from one of the bookcases.  He looked up when he heard someone approach, then back down when he realized the person he heard was a little under two feet tall.  He smiled warmly and sat up on the couch, marking his place in the book and setting it aside.

"Is it getting late already?"  He asked, checking the clock he'd recently taught Itki to read.  "I haven't prepared anything to eat yet..."  Itki answered him by pulling a cloth bundle off her staff and untying it, showing him the fish that was inside.  Myron chuckled, reaching for the cooking utensils they kept in a cabinet by the fireplace.  Itki scrambled onto the couch and watched Myron work, running her fingers over the inscriptions on her staff.  Though Myron had offered to help, she insisted on making them herself.  She felt the inscription on her chest, its soft glow muffled by her dark fur.  She wanted to prove she was more than just a construct.

She looked at Myron's cane leaning against the wall.  It was a large piece of rough driftwood, outfitted with countless inscriptions hidden in each divot and bend in the wood, and topped with a small skull decorated with braids that rattled against it.  The skull had sharp fangs on either jaw, and Myron loved to goad on and on about how they came from a piranha frog, whatever that was.  Itki's stick of a staff was nowhere near as eloquent as Myron's cane, and not nearly as practical.

She watched Myron cook and practiced with her different inscriptions.  She focused on the book Myron had put on the couch and concentrated, pressing her thumb into the proper rune on her staff.  Then, she pushed with her other hand, intending to knock the book off the couch.  All she'd managed to do was blow the cover open for a brief second.  It shut itself with a light thump, ironically making more of a breeze than Itki had.  Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she turned to make sure Myron hadn't seen her.  It was always easier to copy whatever she saw Myron do, but that's what a construct would do.  No matter how long it took, she would get stronger by learning, not mimicking.

Over the now howling wind, Itki heard a knock at the door.  They were in a cabin deep in the woods in the middle of the winter; they were trying to avoid people knocking at the door.  Itki jumped to her feet, naturally running on all fours up the stairs to the loft.  She peered through the banisters from above, watching Myron walk to the door, his cane in hand.  He turned around, made sure Itki was upstairs before opening the door.  There was a thin man outside, his arm wrapped around a shorter girl.  The girl was bundled up in mismatched winter clothes that looked too big for her, while the man had nothing more than a sweater to protect against the elements.  Myron spoke to them calmly, and Itki strained to hear what was being said.

"...were just passing by when this storm kicked up."  The thin man was saying.  "I was just wondering if we could stay here until it passes."  Each word he said sounded reluctant, like he was trying to keep from saying the wrong thing.  He held the girl close to him, like she might be taken any second.  Itki could see a miasmatic glow about the girl, but it wasn't flowing freely around her like with most Minians she saw.  The girl had miasma following her limbs, flowing with her blood on the inside of her body, shining only faintly through her thick clothes.  Itki was the only one she knew that could see people's glow.  It's how she copied whatever she saw.

Myron still hadn't answered the man's question.  "If it's too much trouble to take both of us, could you just let Jordan stay and rest?"  He pressed, starting to let go of the girl, Jordan.  Myron turned around, waving them in.

"No need to separate yourselves.  Have something to eat, and rest until this weather blows over."  Myron said, gesturing them inside.  The man walked in first, casting a wary glance about the cabin before stepping inside completely.  The girl followed, staring at the ground and muttering something to herself.  Myron checked the frying pan and invited them to sit on the couch.

"The fish won't be ready for a little while yet."  Myron said, leaning against the wall.  The thin man was eying his cane, still holding onto Jordan with a tight grip.  Myron's question seemed to snap him back to reality.  "Do you mind me asking what you're doing out here?"

"We were just h-hiking nearby, and..." It didn't look like the man thought that far ahead in his fake story.  He rubbed the back of his head, eager for an out to the conversation.  "I guess we didn't see the storm coming."  Myron didn't look the least bit fooled, but he didn't talk to the thin man anymore.

"You look half frozen over there.  Are you alright?"  He asked Jordan.  Her eyes flickered upwards, just long enough for her to realize he was talking to her.  She still had a haunted expression in her eyes.

"As healthy as a murderer can be."  She muttered.  The thin man turned sharply to her, then back to Myron, trying to hastily explain.  Myron shrugged.

"Some of my best friends are wanted murderers.  Though most of them are falsely convicted."  Myron took more utensils out of the cabinet and started plating the fried fish.  He handed the first plate to Jordan.  "I'm apparently wanted for high treason.  That and stealing recently-seized military property."  Itki almost hissed at being called property.  Jordan took the plate and fork, and began picking bits and pieces off the fish.  Myron gave the next plate to the thin man, who was now looking at Myron like one might look at a ticking bomb.  He accepted the plate, but didn't eat.  Myron got his own plate and turned back to them.

"Well, I've told you a little about me.  Now, maybe you could tell me a little about yourselves.  Like what you're really doing out here."  The thin man looked like he was about to speak, but Jordan interrupted him.

"We escaped from Base Horizon, and we've been running from Enforcement ever since."  She absently played with her food, unwilling to look up from her plate.  "We had to... do a lot of things to get here."  The jaded expression in her eyes softened for a moment.  She looked like she might cry, but she hardened again, forcing back tears that had been welling up long before she'd met Myron.

Myron nodded, a somber expression on his face.  "I can only imagine what it must have been like for a child so young to go through Base Horizon.  You're stronger than most if you made it out alive and free."  Jordan looked up at him, but didn't say anything.  Myron restocked his plate, but didn't start eating it.  He looked up to the loft, peering through the banisters.

"You can come down now."  He called to Itki.  "I don't think you need to hide anymore."  Itki retreated from view and started walking awkwardly down the stairs.  For someone her size, it was a lot harder to do standing upright.  She looked down at her feet, taking each stair slowly and cautiously.  She looked up when she reached to bottom, and saw that everyone was staring at her.  She waved, unsure what else to do, and sat down on the last stair.  Myron walked over and sat the plate of fish in front of her.

"This is Itki, a fellow outlaw."  He said, smiling against the confusion and depression in the room.  "I know many people don't really care for unbound constructs, but Itki is much more than a simple conglomeration of miasma.  As of a few months ago, she's been my apprentice."  Itki picked up the fish, nearly swallowing it whole.  Jordan stared at her with an intrigued look, while the thin man looked ready to spring from his seat should she come any closer.

"Is it... rampant?"  He asked.

"She."  Myron corrected.  "And she hasn't tried to kill me in my sleep yet, so probably not."

"How old is she?"  Jordan asked.

"I'm not sure, but we met half a year ago."  Myron answered.

"What can she do?"

"She can mimic any miasmatic power she sees, though she's trying to learn my craft, not just copy it."

"Does she ever trip on her ears?"  Itki gripped her ears, pulling them down.  They reached the ground, even while standing.  She tucked them close to her head, trying to hide them.  She never knew her ears were so big.

"I think you hurt her feelings."  Myron joked.  Itki stuck her tongue out at him, and he returned the gesture.  Jordan was smiling for the first time since they'd walked in.

*********************************************************************************************************

At Myron's insistence, Jordan and the thin man took the bed upstairs, while Myron slept on the couch.  Itki retreated into the rafters of the cabin, finding her personal corner.  She'd stuffed a pillow and blanket between two beams in her first week here, and had found it her place of refuge ever since.  She wedged her staff into a hole she'd keep telling Myron was there when she got here and curled up on the pillow.  Footsteps from below indicated someone was coming upstairs.  Jordan and the thin man came into view, talking about something.  Itki couldn't resist the chance to eavesdrop.

"Really, you take the bed."  The thin man was saying.  He had a pencil and pad of paper out, and was devoting most of his attention to whatever he was writing, nearly running into Jordan when she stopped walking.

"I don't mind sharing."  She said.

"I only sleep once every few months; if I could sleep right now, I would."  He walked past Jordan, sitting cross-legged in a corner, still focused on his notepad.  "I'll see you in the morning."

Jordan looked like she might argue, but shook her head and climbed into the bed, kicking her shoes off.  "It was really nice of him to let us stay."  The thin man only grunted.  "What do you think about them?"

"The old guy's probably been off his rocker for a while."  The thin man replied without looking up.

"He seems really nice."  Jordan said, a yawn escaping.  "And Itki's really cute."  The thin man snorted.

"In a mutant bunny-squirrel-lemur kind of way, sure."  Itki wasn't sure what a lemur was, but she decided being called a mutant was probably not a compliment.  

"As soon as this storm passes by, we're leaving."  He looked up when she didn't reply.  "You asleep?"  He whispered.  Her light snoring answered him.  He got up, walked over to the bed, and knelt down.  He put his hand to her forehead, like a parent might do to check for a fever.  He held his hand there for a moment, then pulled away, sighing.  He walked back to the corner and kept writing.

Itki wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but she woke up to the sound of strange voices.  Jordan was looking downstairs, and the thin man was nowhere to be seen.  Itki grabbed her staff and dropped on top of the banister, following her gaze.  Myron and the thin man were just outside the door, talking to people in matching yellow and white uniforms.  One of them had a visored helmet on, and stepped forward.  He pulled sheet of paper and started reading from it.  Before he was done, Myron grabbed the thin man by the collar and sent them both flying back onto the cabin floor in a gust of wind.  The people in matching uniforms pulled guns from their belts and backs, but at the tap of a rune on the floor, the door slammed shut and the wall was covered in a shiny, purple sheen.  The bullets bounced off the sheen, and the gunmen soon gave up, walking around the sides of the cabin.

Itki jumped off the banister, landing on the couch just beside Myron and the thin man.  Jordan came running down the stairs, ignoring the thin man's orders to stay hidden.  

"Everyone just calm down."  Myron said.  The thin man got off the ground, standing on shaky legs.  "I need a few moments to concentrate."

"There are people shooting at us and you want us to calm down?!"  The thin man argued hysterically.  Myron stayed on the ground, tapping in rhythmic beats.

"Yes, your shrill voice is much more jarring than the gunfire."  Myron kept tapping in the same pattern, and a rune on the floor began to glow.  Its light spread over the floors and up the walls, painting mesmerizing pictures across the cabin.  

Old men on a park bench

I can never say what brings me back to that same bench.  People came and went, some walking dogs, some jogging, others just talking.  They cast friendly glances my way, but all I offered in return were glares and crude mutterings.  I looked around, taking in the entire scene of carefree people, vibrant wildlife, and the gorgeous landscaping.  All the happy, thriving people and plants, free of strife and adversity.  But I could make it so much better.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?"  I didn't need to look to know it was Myron.  He sat beside me, propping his cane with the skull ornament against the armrest of the bench.  He was wearing his usual jeans and coat, not appearing to be bothered by the weather at all. 

"The sun's too bright."  I complained.

"Come now, even a person that talks to ghosts all day needs to see the beauty in life."  Myron said.

"It's imperfect, incalculable, and prone to destruction.  I could have made it better for everyone..."

"At too great a cost, I'm afraid.  I came to ask a question about something that was left in my home."  I groaned, turning away from him.  She had been so close.  If I just had a little more time, she could have been perfect.  "Someone used my best infusing stone and created a construct.  And there's only one person that could have done it, after seeing its abilities."

"Her abilities."  I corrected.  Perfect or not, I wasn't going to have my work shamed with impersonal pronouns.  "And she was almost a success.  I made her in a very specific way, so she'd wouldn't imprint on the first person she saw."  I turned to him, saw his face harden.  "So tell me, who is her new master?"  Myron didn't answer for a long time, and he dodged the question when he did.

"You've had a little too many 'almost successes'.  Everyone's scared of what you might do next.  So I'm here to tell you that you're a wanted man."  I laughed so hard it ended in coughing.  I've been wanted for years.

"My creations won't let them get anywhere near me."  I said, looking him in the eye.  "Though they have their faults, they would never betray their creator."

"With the kind of effort they're putting in to finding you now, I wouldn't put so much trust in your constructs. Just as a lust for freedom is in human nature, it resides within them as well.  Even your... creations are no exception."  Myron got up, leaning on his cane.  "Sooner or later, they'll leave you.  They always do."

"You didn't."  I said, holding Myron's glare.  Power coursed over the runes on his hands, the very ones I spent countless hours creating and carving, infusing them with every fiber of my being.  Myron wasn't my first creation, nor was he my last.  He was unexceptional, pedestrian compared to some of the others, but he was the only one I'd given up.  Yet, for some reason, he still gravitated toward me, helping whenever he could.

"Your practices fly in the face of any sane person's ethics and morals.  I have brought people back to life when their soul clings to their place of death, but you drag souls back into our world, robbing them of their eternal rest, and bind them to earthen bodies.  They are not alive, nor will they ever be, and if they knew the truth about their conception, they would resent you even more than they do now."  With that, he turned and left.  I watched him go, weaving between people and around trees until he was out of sight.  When it came down to it, I wasn't really sure if who's side he was on, but that wouldn't matter for much longer.  My last creation was nearly complete, and this one would be a success.

L Words

Itki shut her eyes against the fluorescent light, turning her head away from it as much as she could.  Her hands were bound behind her back, and a collar was fixed around her neck that chained her to the wall.  They took the stick she'd used as a cane, so it was hard for her to stand on two feet, so she sat, miserably, in the corner.  She heard the grinding of metal on metal and knew someone had opened the door.  Gradually, she let her eyes adjust to the new light, trying to make out who'd come in.  

"You sure it's safe to enter?"  Someone said.

"It's chained, has no weapon, and the room is bound."  Another voice, female, said.  "There's nothing it can do."  A man in a white coat stepped close to Itki, pointing a strange device at her.  The woman leaned against the wall near the door, holding one of those metal things that smelled bad when they were used.  The man took a step back, taking something from inside his coat.  

"Beginning replication test."  He said, twisting the device.  The man disappeared, and the woman watched Itki closely.  Itki wasn't sure what they were expecting, but they apparently didn't get it.  The man reappeared, putting the device back in his coat.

"As expected, the subject cannot replicate the cloaking device, painting a clear limit to its abilities.  Now, we'll try the Fallotus."  He gestured to the woman and she walked in front of Itki, disappearing.  Unlike the man, she did it of her own power, and Itki could see the miasma coiling off where she was standing, radiating as she used her power.  Itki willed her miasma to do the same, and disappeared soon after the woman.

"It can easily replicate any display of power shown by a Mirum, but it can only copy what it has seen.  You might not be able to see it from there, but the creature's eyes flickered before it camoflaged, gaining pupils and grey irises.  But, upon binding the room..."  He pulled out another device and pushed a button on it.  The wall behind Itki grew cold, and started to hum..  The woman's miasma surged towards it, and she turned visible again, looking as though she had the wind taken out of her.  Itki's miasma was coiled around her too tightly, and wasn't affected by the wall.  "...The creature is unaffected."  The man finished, turning to the corner opposite to Itki.  He appeared to be talking to a metal box with a single eye that had been watching her ever since she was brought here.  "This suggests a new string of Minians, which could mean the resistance is already developing technology against our traditional binding."

There was a long pause, then a voice came from the box.  "Move it back to maximum security, and report back to me.  We just might turn our loss of the stone into a gain."  The man nodded, but stepped away from Itki.  The woman, who was still doubled over, struggled to stand up before walking to Itki.  "Don't feel like you have to help or anything."  She said as she approached Itki.  She fumbled with the chain that bound Itki to the wall, and took the chain in her hand.  "Walk."  She commanded Itki.  Itki dropped her camouflage and tried to stand.  She scampered a couple of steps before falling on her face, unable to catch herself.  The man tried to help her up, but she snapped at his hand, hissing.  The woman yanked her collar, dragging along the ground.  The man followed behind, his expression somewhere between scared and sorry.  

They walked out of her former cell, and the door automatically closed and locked behind them.  Itki had managed to get to her feet and was struggling to keep up.  She wished she had her stick.  She wished Myron was here.  She wouldn't mind the mistreatment or constant poking and prodding if she just had someone to talk to.  She'd been around him for weeks, but still hadn't been able to copy his speech.  It was tearing her up knowing that nobody could understand her.  She started losing her balance and fell again.  The woman didn't even look back.

"Just wait a second,"  Itki tried to say.  It never came out as anything more than chittery gibberish.  "I can't walk upright!"

"I think it's trying to speak."  The man behind her said.

"Great, maybe you two can get to know each other."  She replied, still dragging Itki.  They turned down another hall, and Itki had to roll to avoid the corner.  They passed by what looked like another escort, someone was being marched toward the room they'd come from while a man behind him tossed a fireball between his hands.  Hope sparked for the first time since she'd gotten here, whenever that was, and Itki watched the man closely as they passed, absorbing every detail she could.  His miasma gathered on the surface of his skin, coalescing and condensing into fire wherever he commanded.  He needed to constantly feed miasma to the flames to keep them burning, and if he ever hesitated, they started to die.

When she had what she needed, she closed her eyes and concentrated, which was only made more difficult being dragged around.  She'd need to use enough miasma to generate heat, enough to melt the chain, but she needed to make sure it didn't escape her hands.  She started rubbing her hand together, remembering how the man's miasma was bubbling on the surface of his skin.  Her own miasma started to mimic it, and she curled her fingers around the handcuffs, laying down on them to cover them up.

"Is it really necessary to drag it?"  The man asked.  Itki opened her eyes and saw he was walking beside her, looking at her with concern.

"You know what these things can do; I want to get it back in a cage as soon as possible."  Itki could feel the cuffs melt into her wrists, but her newfound powers dulled the pain.

"That's strange," The man said, staring into Itki's eyes.  "It's eyes just changed.  They have pupils like before, but this time they have red irises."  He looked at Itki's hidden hands, but noticed the haze of heat too late.  Itki brought her hands in front of her, some bits of molten metal still clinging to her.  She stretched her arms out, sending gouts of flame roaring toward the woman.  She turned too late and went down, screaming and trying to pat out the flames, dropping Itki's chain.  Itki turned and ran, leaving the man to help the woman put herself out and tend to her new burns.  She wasn't sure where she should be running, she'd been knocked out when they'd brought her here.  

Itki kept running and closed her eyes, trying to remember anything she'd seen that might help her.  She remembered how Myron had brought her back through an red thing with miasma flowing through it.  The structure of it was complicated, and she had no idea where she'd end up, but Itki decided it was her best shot.  She changed how her miasma flowed, letting it run freely through her rather than keeping it on the surface.  Her arms started to glow red and translucent with energy, just like that woman Myron had told her about.  She'd never seen a rift being made, but Myron had described it as 'Reaching into where you are and pulling yourself somewhere else.'  

Itki reached out, gripping nothing and pulled her arm towards her chest.  Nothing happened.  She tried again and again, to no avail.  An alarm started blaring through the halls, and she pulled her ears down below her chin to keep the noise out.  She tried to make the rift again and again, hissing with annoyance as she failed and failed.  The red glow spread through her arms, to her chest and around her whole body, making her more and more transparent until she could look down and not see her feet.  People came from down the hall and around corners, yelling and shooting.  The bullets seemed to pass right through her, but Itki had barely noticed them.  

This power had a strange kind of danger to it.  It wasn't built around the controlling of miasma, but rather, the acceptance of it.  There was a strange lustful whisper in her ear, urging her to give in, let the miasma do the work.  The gunshots faded, and all she could think about was Myron's goofy smile before hitting her head on something.  She was laying down somewhere, feeling extremely nausous.  The last thing she remembered was being picked up, and a familiar voice calling for medical help.  

Water

After the Titanic sunk, or at least, I think it sunk… I remember someone yelling about the ship hitting an iceberg. Next thing I know, everyone is in panic mode. People are running around, jumping into life boats, some idiots were jumping off the side of the ship… I don’t remember their reasoning. Either way, someone thought it would be so funny to start throwing stuff at each other. I got hit in my freakishly girly head and was knocked out instantly. Now, I’m awake, on a largish piece of ship wreckage that for some reason is floating. Whatever. Now, where are my freaking glasses? I looked around frantically but nope. The glasses were gone. Oh geez. I can’t see without my glasses. I tried to look around but could see nothing but blue water all around. I decided to chill out and wait for someone to rescue me. If a plane were to fly by, they would surely notice my beautiful girly face reflect the suns lovely glows. I laid back with my eyes closed and just waited…

Until I heard a sound come from behind me. I turned to look, but couldn’t make it out. As it swam closer, I began to make it out… Was it… a Japanese whaling ship?

Oh dear Lord, if they were to find an American in their sea they would surely harpoon my beautiful girly body to death. I had to act fast. I began to paddle the wreckage away from the ship, but to no avail. This ship was fast. It was approaching at an alarming rate, and I began to panic. Here it comes… It’s getting closer… I closed my eyes and waited. Eventually I heard the sound of old men, and smelt whale blubber. The men were muttering in a different language, presumably Japanese. I heard them jump into the water and swim towards me. They grabbed me and threw me up into the ship. I kept my eyes closed. A few sailors began talking, all of them surrounding me. Then, in broken English, I heard “Wake up, beautiful girly girl.” I slowly turned towards the noise and opened my eyes. The man looked glum. He turned towards his shipmates and muttered something else. The shipmates walked away. “Don’t worry, this will all be over soon.” He said. I started to panic. The shipmates came back holding a large harpoon gun. “Fire!” The man said. I closed my eyes and heard a poof. I slowly opened my eye and looked forward. A flag had shot from the harpoon gun, saying “Got You!”

“Haha!” the Man shouted. “We got you good!”

I looked around, and Ashton Kutcher appeared from the back of the ship.

“Oh man, we got you good! How does it feel to be the latest victim on Punk’d?

I giggled.

Ashton turned to the Japanese men and said “Okay, boys, let’s take her home.”

Object found in family home

"You know where the stone is?"  Vermillion asked as she closed the rift.  Red energy buzzed from under her glove, sending sparks all around when it moved.

"I know where it was," Myron corrected.  "There's no guarantee it's still there, but I think it's worth checking my village."  He waited for a moment, clearing his throat.  "And since it is such an important matter, I'll need to get there as soon as possible."  Vermillion rolled her eyes and spread her arms wide.  Energy spilled from her gloved arm, and a rift opened up in front of them.  She clenched her fists, and the borders of the portal grew more solid, anchoring it in place.

"You have an hour, at most."  She said, walking back towards the med bay.  "Don't expect me to bail you out if you miss the deadline."  She teleported mid step, a flash of light engulfing her instantly.  Myron turned back to the rift, and walked through, closing his eyes and trying not to throw up.

For a heartbeat,  the ground beneath his feet disappeared, and he was floating.  Or falling.  He wasn't quite sure.   Lights flashed around him, but he didn't dare look.  He made sure he had a sturdy grip on his cane and kept walking.

Then the ground came back.  The flashing ceased, and the air around him was dry and hot.  He opened his eyes to the familiar huddle of huts in the middle of the miasma flats.  Here and there, the dry, cracked ground spilled black vines from inside the earth.  Miasma here was in its most raw form, and the people had learned to live not only in spite of it, but evolve with it.  He walked towards a small pond that connected to a bog that seemed to have no place here.  The miasma flats had no ryhme or reason; there was a tundra one second and a plain the next.  It was the way of his people to live in every one of these miniature biomes, to be able to adapt to anything.

Myron hadn't expected it to be so empty.  Not many people made their home in the blistering heat, but it seemed like everyone had just up and left.  An outside kiln still burned at the pottery maker's shop.  That was strange; Dorothy would never let a fire burn unattended.  

Myron crossed over to the bog, walking along the trees until he found the markings he'd left in his last visit.  Avoiding the dark waters, he hobbled along, walking until he found the wood bridge his dad had built.  Another turn, and he saw his old home.  It was still attached to three trees that had grown close together, protecting him from any of the creepy crawlies on the ground.  Where are all the beasts?  He asked himself as he approached his treehouse.  He hadn't recalled seeing even one Boa constrictor on his way here.

His cane started shaking, the beads in its hair rattling against the skull.  Someone was here, that much was certain.  And that someone had scared everything into hiding.  Myron tapped his ane on the ground, and a gust of wind picked up.  It took him up, jetting him toward his porch.  About halfway there, the force disappeared, and he started to slow.  He reached his porch at the apex of his ascent, and landed just on its edge as he had begun to fall.  The treehouse only had one covered room, its walls lined with Myron's various findings, experiments, and brews.  A bookshelf in the back held what must have been hundreds of little trinkets and trophies from his travels.  He walked to the bookcase, glossing over the various nicknacks.  His gaze settled on an empty space where the stone had been, dust outlining its previous resting place.  

Gunshots rang out, shattering his thoughts.  Voices yelled, though he couldn't make out the words, it sounded like someone was barking orders.  Myron moved the window looking through the light canopy of leaves.  He could see people in white and yellow uniforms, and one behind them wearing some kind of jumpsuit.  Everyone but him had a gun, and where fanning the ground and the trees for something.  The one in the jumpsuit curled his fingers, and a fireball formed in his hand.  He threw it at a nearby tree, setting it ablaze.

"I don't care if we have to burn down every tree in sight to smoke it out,"  He was yelling.  "We aren't leaving without that stone!"  So, Enforcement was already a step ahead of him.  But if they didn't take the stone, where was it?

Myron looked up to find something on a branch staring back at him.  It had been climbing toward him quietly, claws extended, but immediately froze when he saw it.  Its fur was black, though it changed mock the color and texture of the surrounding leaves, apparently thinking it could still hide.  It crept forward again on all fours, moving like some kind of monkey.  It gripped the branch with thumbs on its forelegs, though it didn't have thumbs on its hind legs, and no matter how good its camouflage, Myron could still see its bright, shining yellow eyes.  Myron's first thought was that it was a construct, but its master was nowhere to be seen.  Even so, no summoner would create a construct so... tiny.

It jumped at him, teeth bared, spitting and hissing.  Myron stepped aside, catching it by the scruff of the neck.  It kicked and scratched, though it couldn't reach him.  It eventually gave up, its fur changed back to black and its claws retracted. It was glaring at Myron, and probably thought it looked quite scary, but it looked more like a pouting child than a beast.  If Myron didn't know any better, he thought it might stick its tongue out at him.  It had fangs that only showed when it pulled its lips back, a tail he'd almost describe as bushy, and ears so big it'd probably trip over them if they weren't held up.

"What the hell is that?"  He heard the fire-thrower yell.  Myron glanced out the window, and saw that they were closer now, looking straight up at his house.  He tapped his cane on the ground, and a purple sheen spread over the floor and around every wall of the house.  It disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared, and a small inscription was left in the wooden floor when his cane had touched it.  That out to ward off any fires.  The creature was watching him amazement, apparently forgetting it was supposed to be angry.  Myron thought back to what the fire-thrower had said.  They were looking for the stone too, but how would burning down trees help reveal it to them?  The creature looked more bored than agitated now, and had begun to swing its legs.  Had this thing taken the stone?  

A fireball peeked over the porch and hit the outside roof, dissipating harmlessly.  The Enforcement squad sounded surprised, apparently expecting the house to be up in flames by now, but Myron ignored them.  He walked back over to the bookshelf, showing the creature the empty spot on one of the shelves.  

"Do you remember what was here?"  Myron asked quietly, not sure what he expected.  The creature turned to him and nodded, chittering.  "Do you know where it is now?"  It reached for its chest, pulling the fur apart.  On the surface of its dark skin, Myron could just make out the dim glow of a discharged inscription stone.  The same stone he was looking for.  

The inscription stone was meant to be used as a special catalyst; its purpose was to replicate any.  Yet here before him was a self-created construct, bearing the symbol of the same stone.  The creature had gotten bored again, and was combing through its tail with its fingers.  Myron thought over his options; the item he'd been sent to retrieve was now a living being, and Enforcement was breathing right down his neck.  He could fight them, but they didn’t know who he was, or even that he was still here.

"Do you think you could show me how you turned invisible again?"  The creature smirked and faded away, only its glowing eyes remained.  “We’re going to sneak past those people, okay?  Just stay quiet and keep your eyes closed.”  Myron walked to a window on the other side of the treehouse, opposite to the side the Enforcement squad was on.  He sat in the window sill, looking down to make sure his positioning was correct.  He sat the creature in his lap, and, rather amazingly, it didn’t run when he let it go.  “Stay quiet.”  Myron whispered to it before falling back.

Air rushed by him, curling around him and slowing his descent.  He hovered for a moment before righting himself and stepping onto the ground.  The creature was breathing heavily and had dug its claws into his jacket, its camouflage shifting in its fright.  He pet its head, trying to calm it down.  When its breathing evened out, he extricated it from his chest, placing it on his shoulder.  “Just hang on, and make sure your eyes are closed.”  He waited for the creature to comply before walking back to the desert village.  He kept his pace brisk, making sure he wasn’t being followed.  The creature opened one of its eyes a sliver, and started chittering in his ear.  He waved it off, shushing it.  Just a little further and they’d be at the rift.  It kept chittering, trying to tell him something.

“Sir?  Where are you going?”  He stopped walking, turning around while over-exaggeratedly leaning on his cane.  There was a man behind him, in white and yellow, with a visored helmet that covered his face.

“Don’t scare me like that!”  Myron said, putting on the innocent old man act.  “You’ll give me a damn heart attack with all your creeping.”

“My apologies, it’s just that this area has been evacuated.”

“Evacuated?  Did you check all the houses?”

“Er… well, I’m sure we-”

“I just woke up!  This is the first I’m hearing about an evacuation.”  Myron walked toward the soldier, making sure he was within swinging distance.  “Why do we have to leave?”

“There’s a class nine miasmatic construct wondering the premises.”  He said, speaking like he was told to memorize the exact wording of his excuse.  “For your own safety, we have to relocate you until it’s captured.”  He felt a weight release itself from his shoulder.  He rushed to grab at the creature, but it was gone.  He cursed under his breath as he saw some nearby reeds bend unnaturally.  The soldier was looking at him, unsure how to proceed.

“Um, are you okay, sir?”  Myron let power flow to the end of his cane, and hurled purple lightning at the soldier.  The soldier vanished, the lightning fizzling in the distance.  He was a Fallotus, then, capable of creating illusions and turning anything he touched invisible.  Myron could track him, but a Fallotus wouldn’t hang around for too long.  He was probably already heading back to his friends by Myron’s house.

The reeds waved again, and Myron smiled.  He readied another blast, but the man became visible again, tripping over something in the reeds.  He fell, and something with black fur and yellow eyes jumped on him, whacking him in the helmet with a small stick.  The creature got the stick under his helmet, and pried it off as the soldier struggled to stand.  He threw it off, losing the helmet, and turned invisible again.  Almost.  Myron couldn’t be sure from his distance, but he saw two blue eyes floating in the air.  The creature raised its stick, pointing at the pair of eyes.  Purple lightning erupted from the stick, hitting the Fallotus and causing him spasm the way a cartoon would if it got shocked.  He started to cycle through colors before eventually stopping on blue and collapsing.  

Myron looked back at the creature, who was looking back at him with a wide-toothed grin spread across its face.  Now it all made sense.  The creature was made from an infusing stone meant to replicate any process.  It could only camouflage because it must have seen this Fallotus do it, and it couldn’t camouflage its eyes because the soldier couldn’t.

It walked toward Myron, imitating his hobbling and leaning on its stick.  Myron led the way back to the rift, and the creature stayed with him.  He’d kept Enforcement from getting the stone.  Sure, he hadn’t gotten it either, but it was looking like the resistance just got a new member.

The Dragon

Gerald heaved himself over the ledge, rolling onto his back when he'd finally reached the top.  He eventually got up, his scaly skin only getting dustier with each climb.  The job seemed easy enough; Rescue some politician's daughter from a psycho and walk away rich, with none of the legal hang-ups he usually dealt with in his profession.  He made a mental note to always ask for the location before accepting the job.

He walked along the dusty road, hands in his pockets, hood hiding his face.  He didn't know if he'd find anyone wandering an abandoned mountain road, but he didn't want to risk running into anyone from Nineveh.  He understood there were racists out there, but an entire city with daily hangings?  He'd never been so glad to drop a contract.

After a few hours of walking, he came up on an old mansion with an ancient garden.  Dead flowers poked out of the browned bushes that lined a winding cobblestone walkway overgrown with moss.  Rusty wind chimes hung by the porch, stubbornly stagnant despite the breezy weather.  There were statues scattered around the garden, stone angels holding real watering cans, spades, and hedge trimmers, knelt over dead flowers or trimming worm-infested hedges.  Whoever lived here had way too much time on their hands.

The gate was comprised of vertical metal bars, with no obvious footholds.  Even if one were to climb them, they would have to face the sharp metal shafts on top of the gate as well as a bushel of barbed wire someone had gone through the trouble of lining the entire fence with.  It was clear that Gerald wasn't going to climb over this fence.  So he jumped over instead.

Tucking in his legs, he jumped clean over the fence, rolling as he landed on the other side.  He stopped just short of an angel statue that was trimming a bush in the shape of a lion.  Of all the dead and undermanaged things in the garden, the bushes were expertly upkept, showing vibrant renditions of of large mammals, birds, even a school of fish swimming in a leafy wave.

"Nice job,"  He complimented the statue.  He rose back to his feet, taking the scene in with his hands on his hips.  "You do all this by yourself?"  The statue offered no conversation.  Gerald shrugged and moved on, along the old cobblestone path, up the creaky stairs to the rotting wooden porch.  He felt the wood give with each step, groaning as if the house was reluctant to let him in.  When he tried to knock on the door, his hand went threw the termite-infested wood, spraying moldy splinters.  Gerald reached through the hole, unlocking the door from the inside and letting himself in.

The foyer was a large hall of colors that had grown muted with time.  What were once tapestries adorned the wall, now reduced to dusty carpets indiscriminate from one another.  Gerald walked to the main staircase, finding that on either side were two more hedges, trimmed to look like butlers, each gesturing towards their respective wing.  One of them was holding an expensive-looking scarlet jacket.

"Guess you're holding the lovely lady's coat while she's here."  Gerald said to no one in particular.  He took the coat, smelling it along the collar.  He was expecting some kind of expensive perfume or soap or something, but all he scented was sweat.  

After checking the coat's pockets (She wouldn't need a golden pocket watch, anyway) he followed the scent trail to a side door leading downstairs.  He'd lost the trail halfway down, but could now hear the steady snipping of scissors, and decided to quicken his pace.  To any normal person, it would have been pitch black downstairs, but Gerald could see just fine.  Under the sound of scissors, he could now hear a voice, low and urgent.  He cast his gaze about the room, finding only one other door on the other side of the basement.  He made his way to it quietly, pressing where his ear would have been to the door.

"You really should hold still."  Someone said, the voice edged with agitation.  "What use is a muse if she keeps moving?"

Gerald slid the door open slowly.  The first thing he saw was a table full of bonsai trees.  Some plain, others trimmed into precise figures and shapes.  Above the table was a peg-board of different scissors, magnifying glasses, and delicate tools that looked more fit for surgery.  He edged the door further, until he saw a chair bolted to the ground.  In the chair was a girl, maybe sixteen, struggling against the metal wrist and ankle bindings.

"Who are you?"  Gerald jumped at the voice behind him.  He swung wildly, completely missing the man in the suit behind him.  He was tall and lanky, his face expressing genuine disinterest in his own question.  The girl had seen him jump in, and was trying to speak around the tape over her mouth to tell him something.  "Did you touch my trees?"

He pushed past Gerald before he could answer, making a beeline for the table with the bonsai trees.  He chose a pair of scissors from the peg-board and began working while the girl kept mumbling.  "Do you think you could take her with you?  She justs sits there whining all day; I haven't been able to trim something presentable in days.  Honestly, I don't know what Leon sees in her."  His voice was calm, even, if slightly arrogant.  He wasn't the person Gerald had heard.

"Alright, I'll take her, Mister..."

"Noel," he finished without turning around.  "And please don't speak any more, your southern drawl is extremely annoying."  Gerald made his way to the girl in the chair, cautious of Noel, though he seemed content trimming his bonsai trees.  Gerald got the tape off her mouth and started unbinding her arms.

"Hurry up, already," she complained, her English accent playing along the words.  "We need to get out of here before Leon gets back."  Leon must have been the one talking to her before.  But Gerald had come in the only door out... where could Leon have gone?

When her arms were free Gerald went to her right leg, and she handled the left.  As soon as there was nothing holding her down, she practically leapt from the chair, walking briskly for the door.  Gerald followed her, casting one last look at Noel, but he seemed to show no interest in keeping her here.  She was waiting for him outside the door and grabbed his arm, dragging him along.

"You're really crap at rescuing, you know that?  If Leon gets back, we're..." She looked back at him, let him go, and took a step back.  "What the hell are you?!"

"I don't know the technical term, but they basically took a lizard, did some miasma mumbo-jumbo, and experimented on the closest thing on two legs.  Lucky me."  Gerald started walking up the stairs, and the girl followed.  "Got a name?"

"Not as far as you're concerned, freak."

"Mine's Gerald, nice to meet ya."

Gerald reached the top of the staircase, and led the girl past the main stairs and toward the exit.  When he caught sight of the door, it was blocked by several potted hedges, trimmed to look like knights with swords and shields.  There was someone in front of them, hacking away at one of the hedges with a sword.  He had a studded buckler in his off hand and a helmet that looked like something out of a history book.

"Noel thinks he's sooooo much better than me..." he was mumbling.  He finished carving a new knight from the hedge.  "Him and his little bonsai trees can rot in the basement.  Now this is art."  His voice seemed oddly familiar.  The girl grabbed his arm, and was trying to pull him back downstairs, but Gerald shrugged her off.

"S'cuse me."  Gerald called to the man.  He turned sharply, snarling with his upper lip.  The face was worn a different way, but there was no mistaking it.  This man was Noel.  "So... have you seen any of Noel's trees?"

"Noel's just a pretentious creep.  He thinks his work is just too good for everyone.  But... just look at this!"  He gestured to his knights, an almost childish smile on his face.  "Simple, yet grand, aren't they?  That one in the back has a claymore."

"Oh yeah, they're all amazing."  Gerald encouraged him.  No use in lighting this psycho's fuse.  "But, they look like they're blocking the door."

"Well, sure.  But I can't let you just walk out of here with my muse."  His smile vanished.  "You should never have come here, dragon.  I am the noble knight Leon; Prepare to meet thy absolution!"

Dragon?  Well, that's a new one.

Leon, or Noel, or whoever came charging toward Gerald.  Gerald stood his ground, waiting for the right moment.  As Leon thrust his sword forward, Gerald jumped over the stab and over Leon, landing behind him.  Gerald kicked Leon between the shoulder blades, and he went stumbling away, eventually falling awkwardly around his sword.  The girl was waiting by the basement stairs, and made a break for the door when she saw Leon go down.  Gerald followed her, tearing a path through the hedges with his claws.  When he looked back, Leon was gone, and the girl screamed.  Somehow, Leon was at the door, and was holding his sword against the girl's throat.

"You shouldn't let your opponent out of your sight."  He sneered, putting the girl between him and Gerald.  Gerald closed his mouth, holding his breath.  "Though I must admit, she isn't as beautiful a muse as I once thought.  How about this, dragon; your life for hers."

Gerald glared daggers at him, but nodded.  He walked forward slowly, raising his hands in surrender.  Leon edged closer, but didn't notice Gerald's puffing cheeks.  Gerald could feel the heat trying to escape, but he was waiting for the right moment.  "No closer!"  Leon ordered.  He reached into his pocket and tossed something at Gerald.  A cable tie.  "Tie your hands, and she's free to go."  They didn't look that strong, he was sure he could break them.

He complied, tying his hands together at the wrists and showing Leon he couldn't untie himself.  Seeming satisfied, Leon nearly threw the girl behind him, toward the door.  She went to the door, but hesitated to leave, casting a look a Gerald.

Just go.  He wanted to say.  You're in my line of fire.  But he couldn't open his mouth.  He couldn't even breathe safely.  Leon started towards him, sword extended.  He'd need to wait until he was closer...

"I haven't seen many beasts of myth out here."  Leon was saying.  "Though, I suppose most of you are rounded up or killed on sight.  How does it feel to know that even the Mirum are treated better than you?"  Gerald couldn't answer, so he shrugged.  His eyes started to water, and it felt like steam would start billowing from his ears.  The girl was still lingering by the door, staying out of survivor's guilt, it would seem, rather than concern.  Gerald gave her a thumbs-up, doing his best to smile without opening his mouth.  Leon turned.

"What are you still doing here?"  His shield was down and he was distracted.  Gerald couldn't wait for him to get any closer.  This might be the best shot he was going to get.

Gerald opened his mouth, letting the gushing flames out.  They fanned out in front of him, washing over Leon and covering everything else from his vision.  His hood had blown off, draping over the sail that stretched from Gerald's head down his neck.  Gerald stopped the torrent as soon as the flames color dipped from a searing blue to their usual bright orange and yellow.  He coughed and heaved, his chest feeling empty and cold.  When he could steadily breathe, he looked up to inspect the damage.  The carpet on the floor in front of him was completely burnt away, and the wood below it was smoldering.  A nearby tapestry had caught fire, and the whole area still had a haze of extreme heat around it.  Leon was gone, and seared shadow on the ground was in his place.  A hand reached out to steady him.  He took it, walking a couple steps before he was sure he could support himself.

"Next time you have an crisis of conscience, just do the selfish thing and leave."  Gerald told the girl, trying not to cough up soot.  "Everything woulda been fine if you'da gotten out of the way."  They walked out the door and through the garden.

"What's that thing on your head?"  She said, poking his sail.  He ignored the question and swatted her hand away, pulling the oversized hood back over his head.  They walked past the statues of angels, and Gerald noticed a bonsai tree shaped like a tiger sitting in the hands of one of the statues.  There were more trees, some planted into the ground, depicting wars, animals, and very odd-looking geometry.  He hadn't seen those on the way in.  And where were the hedges?

As they turned a bend in the path, Gerald saw someone else in the garden.  He was digging a small hole in a bed of soft soil, planting one of many potted bonsai trees in it.  He turned toward them, and Gerald urged the girl find somewhere to hide.

"Oh.  It's you again."  Noel said, pulling off a pair of gardener's gloves.  He had some of his tools from the basement in a utility belt around his waist, and a small spade in his back pocket.  "I'd like to thank you for taking care of Leon.  As I'm sure you've seen, he can be quite... cantankerous.  Well, now he can trim his crude hedges in basement."  He gave a small wave before returning to his trees.  Gerald didn't bother asking how Noel had gotten past him, or how he was even alive.  He bustled along the path towards the gate, making sure the girl stayed with him.  Gerald reached for the gate's lock, but it was one of the few things here that wasn't an ancient relic.  He looked up at the barbed wire, wondering if he could jump over it again while carrying the girl.

"Excuse me."  Gerald knew it was Noel, but still jumped.  "You forgot this."  He said, handing the girl the red coat that had been in the foyer.  "And here, let me unlock that for you."  He produced a key from his pocket and took away the padlock, winding the chain around his arm.  He gave a small bow and walked back toward the garden.

"Don't care how,"  Gerald muttered under his breath, pushing the gate open.  "And don't wanna know how."  The girl was keeping pace with him.

"So, we're walking back to town?"  

"Unless daddy has a helicopter on standby."

"How long is it going to be?"

"Dunno.  Couple hours?"  She groaned, looking through her coat pockets for something.

"Where's my pocket watch?"