This is my fourth trip; I've only ever done cactus. This trip is unique compared to the first 3 because I spent it almost entirely indoors and the peak was ~80% blindfolded. The length of cactus is somewhat less than my forearm (250mm long by 90mm diameter). I believe the one I've got is unusually active or perhaps I'm sensitive to the effects.
The peak sequence of the trip involved a number of different dissolution sequences; with my eyes closed, shattering apart into shards of glass. Eyes closed the roof and floor of my house disappeared and suddenly I was floating in space (in a space? Another dimension? I'm not sure - I didn't seem to be outdoors where my house was in NZ), with the angle of my body moving and and shifting. Eventually I was back in the room, dissolving into paint and spreading out around the floor and onto the walls, and then starting to fold up on myself - turning inside out, my body breaking apart into pieces and forming a tunnel, and eventually flattening out round the walls of the tunnel. The tunnel stretches out, infinitely long as I hurtle through it; eventually it snaps back (or forwards? FOrward and back seem to be the same thing) and the tunnel - and me with it since I'm in the tunnel but am the tunnel (not sure there is a me at this point, really), snaps shut into a 2D circle.
I'm back again, floating in space; shifting vertically, upside down. I'm still in my house - but I'm not in my house. I'm everywhere, but nowhere.
For a time I am hanging out with my deceased brother - watching a nature documentary about NZ, only we are in NZ which is amusing, only we aren't in NZ, we are back in Canada, and we are in another dimension, somewhere between life and death. We chuckle about the absurdity of it all. I say that I'm trying to use the cactus to heal myself and change my habits but really it's just an excuse to hang out with him. He says he'll tell his side he is helping to fix me. Suddenly, I am on a ladder, with building supplies being fixed to me. My brother was a builder. I am my brother. I am passing building supplies to him on the ladder to fix me (or is it the other way around? There is no distinction anymore).
The music shifts (John Hopkins psychedelic playlist) into a great orchestral piece, and suddenly, I am out of body with a birds eye floating view of one of the most incredible sequences of my life. I am inside an enormous spherical theater or auditorium space, infinitely large, which I can only describe as being simultaneously a natural space but also clockwork; inside the sphere is another sphere, this one is my mind; but it is also the Gaia / infinite love / infinite unity experience from the second trip. I can see myself (and my brother) standing on this enormous ladder next to my mind, trying to fix the holes in the side of it. Around the mind (or Gaia ?) I can see many doors and windows, and a great many journal articles, papers, and images are flowing out of it, like someone holding a deck of cards and making them rapidly fly away into the air. I am in this space for eternity? Or a few moments - I don't know. Time has been frozen for some time (lol).
Eventually, I find myself in a different space. I can only describe it as like the moving staircase room from Harry Potter, and there are these great lengths of clockwork machine pieces being moved apart and re-arranged. It's me - I am being taken apart into all these pieces, and put back together. Some of the pieces are as they were before. Some are new. Some are fixed. One particular piece I recall is my right leg: Since an early bout with intense depression and suicidality in early university at 17 years old where I suffered an intense right knee / calf injury that had me limping for months, I have had some kind of somatization where whenever i get severely depressed or suicidal, the limp returns even though the injury has been healed for years.
Suddenly, a new space. An infinitely large auditorium, in space or another dimension, filled with these infinitely large clockwork men (think like the clockwork men from Doctor Who but infinitely large) it is one of the most incredible scenes I have ever witnessed. The men are frozen, because time is frozen.
Eventually, I am back - in NZ, in my room it seems, dissolving into paint and light and nacho cheese again. THere is a lengthy sequence involving mexican girls, a mexican ski lodge and building a ski lodge. Then, my sunrise alarm starts gradually turning on for the last hour of the trip, and I seem to dissolve into the light and spend the last hour of the peak drifting along as light.

I've been using this LO for some time and made some changes to it(not mid playthrough of course) and most recently i've been getting constant crashes when going in either hall of attainment or hall of countenance, but hall of elements is loading fine. I think the problem is with the loading and not the area itself since loading a save of a character that's already inside works just fine, it's going through the door that makes it so at the ending of the loading the game just freezes. I thought it was The Magical College Bundle, but thats been on my LO for quite a while and that never happened before, so either some mod that wasn't there before is causing it or some updated caused it. Here's the LO, with the most recent additions having an * at the end of their name and the + before if they're a patch for other mods. Any advice for the LO in general is welcome as well :)
• Unofficial Skyrim Special Edition Patch
• Unofficial Skyrim Survival Patch
• Reconciliation: QOL and Bugfixes
• +USSEP
• Unofficial Creation Club Updates - October Pack [XB1]*
• Simple Workaround Framework*
• Omen Weathers*
• Run For Your Lives
• Realistic Conversations
• Guard Dialogue Overhaul
• Skyrim Reputation
• Better Intimidation
• Even Better Quest Objectives
• The Choice Is Yours
• At your own pace - AIO/Listen
• Trained and Skilled*
• Laro's Perks, Magics and More
• Guild Leader Perks
• XP32 Maximum Skeleton+Realistic Ragdoll and Force
• Feminine Females
• Gritty Animation Requiem 2.0
• Cloaks face masks and all sorts 2
• Visible Favorited Gear
• Wear Multiple Rings
• Wearable Lanterns
• Become a Bard
• Mystical Scholarship: The Magical College Bundle 1K
• Merchants Chests on Display
• Night Mother's Embrace - An Assassin's Tale
• Walk With The Shadows - A Nightingale Bundle
• Comprehensive First Person Animation Overhaul - CFPAO
• Rebalanced Leveled Lists
• Rebalanced Encounter Zones and Leveled Actors
• OBIS - SE (full version)
• DLC Integration
• Stronger Bosses Skyrim
• Enhanced Atronachs - With Levelling and Luminosity
• Reliquary of Myth
• True Lords of Oblivion
• Dragon Priest Masks Tweaks
• Dragon Priest Staffs
• Rich Skyrim Merchants
• JaySerpa's Quest Expansion Bundle
• Melodies of Skyrim: All In One*
• Reverb and Ambiance Overhaul
• Phenderix Magic Sounds Improved
• Enhanced Draugr Fx
• Display Enhancements
• Relighting Skyrim
• ELE Interior Lighting Overhaul
• SMIM Essentials
• Vivid Landscapes - Alternate Tundra
• WizKid Signs
• 3D Log Farmhouse Fences
• Skyland - Dirt Roads
• Dark Ages: Sky Haven Temple and Alduin's Wall
• Detailing The Eldritch - Complete
• Dark Ages: Dragon Textures
• Draugr Retexture: Bloody Black
• Ultimate Sephoraz Beauty Bundle
• Flesh Spells Fx Restored[XB1]*
• Heavy Armory - New Weapons
• Old Kingdom - Armor Overhaul
• Old Kingdom - Weapon Overhaul
• + USSEP
• Old Kingdom - Crafting Add-On
• Glorious Dwarven Metal - Old Kingdom
• Elaborate Textiles Alternate
• (Lite) Guard Armor Overhaul
• Konahrik's Accoutrements
• Skyrim Sewers Bundle
• Unique Armors & Weapons - Unenchanted And Craftable
• Greener Glass
• SeeEnchantments
• Lockpicking Interface Redone*
• Embers HD
• Natural Forces Bundle - Wet
• Frozen Electrocuted Combustion - Realistic
• Cannibal Draugr on Solstheim
• Dwemer Spectres
• Sylvan Spirits
• Real Wildlife
• Birds of Skyrim
• Birds And Flocks
• Prismatic Insects
• Kiss My Grass
• Treeslod_23
• Landscape Fixes For Grass Mods
• Bells of Skyrim
• Tactical Valtheim
• Halted Stream Mine
• Provincial Courier Service
• MAP - Project Hippie
• Trees in Cities
• Riften Eastern Road
• Manor Roads
• Man Those Borders!
• EasierRider's Dungeon Pack
• The Blackest Reaches
• The Marshlands
• Master The Summit
• Nordic Ruins Of Skyrim
• Holidays
• Lanterns of Skyrim - Special Edition
• Lost Enchantments for The Discerning Adventurer
• Perk Points Per Level
• Truly Absorb Dragon Souls - Heavy
• VioLens
• More Blood and Gore!
• Know Your Enemy - All in One
• + AIO + OKA
• Immersive Movement
• Smilodon
• + Immersive Movement
• + Realistic Damage
• Mortal Enemies
• + Immersive Movement
• Better Combat AI
• Realistic AI Detection
• Sneak Tools
• Archery Tweaks Plus
• Silent Arrows
• More Effective Blocking
• No Draugr Disarm
• The Fire Within - Shouts Powered by DragonSouls
• Clear UI - Not So Sensible Preset*
• Pastel Map Markers*
• Updated Mine Markers
• Cheat Room
• Quest Debugger
• Free Player Home Heartfire Building*
• Improved Backpacks V2*
• Kip Ahrk Bahlok - Food and Hunger
• Dragonborn and Dawnguard Delayed
• Mystic Condenser
• Readable Shadomarks*
• Awesome Potions Simplified by Revoith
• Flying Vampire Lord
• Alternate Start - Live Another Life
• Abandoned Prison Tweaks
• + EBQO - Alternate Start
• Relationship Dialogue Overhaul
• + RDO - USSEP
• Immersive Hunter Dialogue
• Immersive Follower Framework
• + RDO
• YOU DON'T KNOW ME - No NPC Greetings
• Bat Vampire Lord

I just need to speak a bit about myself,
a few details about me? To make it simple I'm of the invisible type, I'm 21 years old ugly yet extraverted, I have such anxiety that everyday feels like I have a metal pole up my throat and every single thing I do feels so painful.
I enjoy painting, the kind of art that is pretty weird, I enjoy physics, and overall everything that touches Computer Science.
The reason why I'm stupidly writing this, it's because it's been almost 10 years, 10 years I felt the same way, 10 years that I just wish to be obliterated from the surface of earth. 10 fucking years, I cannot even bear the fact that I still wake up, I still do the same thing over and over and over again.
I cannot actually even imagine that I lived for all the people for so long, i cared so deeply about everyone, and honestly that's the achievement and the peak of my life, but i cannot take it anymore, my shoulder collapsed a long time ago, and yet I held.
Yet i was always unimportant, and anyway I didn't ever care about it, all the people that could or did care about the pile of shit that i was either died or i managed to fuck it up completely.
And i write this like i care, i mean i used to, i used to give a fuck about everything even, absolutely down to the last minute detail, and yet i slowly lost it, the last thing that remained something that i felt good about slowly went away, the last thing that remains and rings like a fucking infinite bell is "finally fucking do it".
I've tried doing it, i've tried the worst ways, and i always pathetically failed,
and after almost a decade of suicide attempts, treatment, hospitalization, therapy, and medication, i still do things because i feel forced to do them so everyone around doesn't feel like they have a parasite around them, and someone even shittier than they could think.
At work or at school, it made everything even worse, I hated the clients. I hated the arbitrary policies dreamed up by some corporate idiot I'll never meet.
Most of all, I hate the omnipresent ticking clock that crushes my mind even outside of work. The clock that ticks down to my misery. It taints every action. Every thought. Outside of work, inside of work, it then follows me everywhere like another burden added to what i am.
And all for what? To what end? To get a degree? To have a life that I will despise ??
Maybe a slightly less miserable job at some stage in the future because of a degree and still what's the point?
What's the point of that? Buying the things that I "want" in a life i already hate, a life that i hate since almost more of half my existence?
Or what perhaps, on a more fundamental level, survival? Survival in a world that gets progressively worse and worse?
None of that is worth it. Nothing is worth this. The things that living takes from me can't be bought with money.
And I don't think there's anything out there that would feel different. What tasks in life takes no time, no emotional charge no qualifications, no arduous effort, no transportation, no interaction, nothing.
I am just low and for every single thought i can recall i always have been, I hate as well the medication i have, the loneliness i feel in my stupidly dumb apartment, and i don't know i guess i finally have some guts, guts to speak and guts to act on a change.
At this day, i want only one thing, it is to die, i want to be forgotten as fast as possible, i want to find a way to kill myself to do everything not to be discovered.
I just wish i could be completely deleted.

Ok so I met this guy before my friend in a therapy program but we never really talked or got to know each other. I always thought he was cute and seemed like a cool person. Then I met my friend and we recently started going to the gym so we have gotten closer. She has had this crush on the guy for a while now and they hung out a couple times where she was questioning how he really felt about her. Low key she became a bit of a stalker and always showing me stuff he posts, asking me what do you think this means? kind of things.. even wanted me to listen on his phone convo to see if I could tell he was talking to another girl. I think bc I am a little older than her and more emotionally mature I sensed that she was grasping at straws for clues that he liked her but I told her that if he did really like her he would be pursuing her more at this point and making it obvious bc men usually take action when they really want a girl.
We all went out last night and met up with him and she wanted me to try to ask him these things about her while we were playing pool. My friend doesn’t have much of an energetic personality and is quiet and doesn’t put much effort into her appearance. On the other hand I looked pretty good with my outfit and makeup and was being really social. Anyways, the first team I told her to pair up with him for pool but they weren’t even talking or interacting with each other much. It seems like she is probably not very confident in herself around him and maybe intimidated by her feelings for him. Since my team won the first round, she sat out so another friend of ours could rotate in. I ended up being paired with him so then we started chatting a bit more and vibing with our conversations. I hadn’t talked to him much before so I was trying to get to know him a bit more before asking things about my friend.
I ask him about his past relationship bc I was aware he had an ex from the program that didn’t end well and wanted to know if there was any attachment to her still. He asks about my status too and tell him I’m single and don’t get into many relationships unless it’s serious. Well then he starts making flirtatious comments toward me and I would respond jokingly like you’re so corny or laughing it off. But not going to lie that I felt there was more chemistry between us. My friend could sense this and got upset and walked out.. I tried to go and find her outside but didn’t see her. So then the game ends and the other people in our group walk out. I stayed to wait for him bc he had to check out and return the balls. I start to ask him about her now and he basically says there was “miscommunication.” He doesn’t give much details but I assume he means he didn’t want to lead her on and isn’t actually into her. He actually had asked me where I would want to go on a first date as well and after walking with us back to our car he asks for my number.
I know my friend is def hurt by this situation and has been asking me if I would date him and stuff. I’ve been honest in telling her I had always thought he was attractive but it wasn’t my intention for things to go this way tonight. I think the conversation with them needed to take place awhile ago about where she stood and his feelings.
I don’t know if I’m just having rose colored glasses bc I havnt dated or been hit on in awhile but we did seem to connect. I know it’s shitty that he flirted with me when he knew she liked him and didn’t let her know how he was feeling. I’m not sure if he suddenly became interested in me that night and then realized he wasn’t into her but I know she feels rejected now. I don’t think he actually really liked her but didn’t let her know before that night and so now I feel bad how it all happened.
I told her I would go out with him to see if there was anything there but is this a bad idea? I havnt been friends with her for long (maybe a month or so) but I’m not saying I would just ditch her for the guy. It’s hard bc all this time she has been asking my advice about him and now he seems into me instead. I do want to talk with her. I don’t know if anything will even happen bw the guy and I but I’m not closed off to the idea…
What should I do? I think she was probably led on a little and so do I just want to be careful although I’m a little more experienced with knowing how to read men. I don’t want to hurt her but also I would be open to going on a date with him even if it doesn’t go anywhere in the end.

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In a bustling mining town:

Jax had been enjoying himself. The war stories and barely believable tales of antics of the Humans he'd served with he told in the coffee parlors were popular among the intoxicated of both sexes, though the admiration and further libations from the men were far less captivating than the rapt attention a very pretty woman with a lithe figure and strong tail gave him. Comely indeed, and she would come to listen to him. Though it seemed to onlookers that he had captivated her, it was her dark pools of eyes that he had dove into, and found them deep and inescapable. She kept those eyes trained on him so long as he spoke, and so he spoke, seeing in those depths possibilities.
Indeed, Jax had begun to expect that if he were to ask Rae to accompany him to the upcoming autumn festival, she might not reject the notion. Even with troubling rumors about somebody attacking a neighboring nation, and the sudden vanishing of the Star Sailors from Star Council space were far from his mind, and the minds of the other coffee patrons parlor patrons. It was in this ease and comfort that he and many other Numiindan residents found their lives shattered by horror.
It began with the burning streaks of the wrecked Space Defense Force, more law enforcement than military, fell from the sky. He was just in the middle of a story about the time his buddy Erin had gotten stuck in his own armor when he stopped and said, "Does anybody else smell smoke?"
There was a general testing of the air by the group of variably intoxicated patrons, followed by a fruitless checking of datapads for the news. "Network's down," somebody in the small crowd said.
"Well, we'll just go outside and take a look," Jax said, and Rae subtly clasped his hand. Outside, the pair squeezed each other's hands so hard they hurt. The sky was streaked with gashes of billowing black smoke of destroyed ships and fighters, and what destroyed them was descending while raining hot plasma down on anything that looked vaguely like it might be fortified.
"The Ancestors preserve us," Rae whispered.
"I'm not going to wait on them," Jax said, "we need to get under cover now, and not just the lounge!"
Someone in the crowd said, "The mines! There are some pretty big chambers down there, and it's like, miles of rock to burn through."
"Good plan," Vex said, "If they're doing areal lances like that they don't care about collateral damage, everyone, split up in groups of three or four, and get as many people as you can to get to the mines."
"What if they follow us down?" Rae asked.
"We'll flood the mines. Hopefully they can't swim."
An hour later, a press of over a hundred panicked elderly and children were running along behind Jax. The majority of the parents and other adults had elected to buy time. Jax had to focus on his mission, save the civvies, get them under cover, to keep from bolting off to join them. "As long as the pups are alive," he muttered.
The sounds of shouting and plasma lance discharges spurred him and Rae on, and though he was obliged to lead the way, she insisted on bringing up the rear. She insisted that none of the injured were left behind. Then, they saw it, salvation. The gates to the mines, and behind them, the shaft plunging down beneath the rock. There were miners with plasma cutters and force axes at the gates, and Jax knew better than to relax. Even as the miners swung the gates open and escorted their panicked charges to the shaft elevator.
"We're getting ready to flood the main shaft, and everything but the vents to the largest chamber," one of the miners said, "get everyone up against the back wall, and pray the Ancestors remember us."
Jax just nodded and gripped his crowbar as he scanned the road they had run down saying, "I'm going to need fighters. We have to hold out until the Republic gets here."
"The Republic? You think they'll come?"
"Of course," Jax said with steel in his voice, "of course."
The next day, Jax held a meeting with the others he was thinking of as the leaders, or maybe other fighters, to tell them what he thought and hear what they thought in return. They had swam to an air pocket in one of the flooded tunnels and held their conversation in the dim light of a portable glow lantern to keep the civvies from panicking at what might be said. There Jax and Rae floated with Kai, a miner and the one who had suggested sheltering in the tunnels, Mei, an engineer in from the big city to help design an upgraded refining facility, and Ash, a man reluctant to divulge his past.
"So, we have about eight hundred civvies, none of whom are in fighting shape, no weapons, no food, and a highly defensible position," Jax opened, "I believe our first priority should be arming ourselves so we can raid the surface for food."
"The first aid kits are barely adequate. They're made to deal with maybe a localized plasma burn from a cutter malfunction, or to put temporary splints on a broken limb. Not lance wounds and to stabilize breaks for healing," Rae murmured softly.
"I did a little scouting," Kai said, "Just popping up in the vent covers, they didn't see me. I saw my house. What's left of it. Anyway, I know how to get to where there are some weapons we could get if we're quick. If we're quiet."
"The flooding did significant damage to the mines," Mei muttered. "I haven't seen any signs that it's getting worse, but the quakes will probably keep on. We will have to reassure the civilians. If they bombard the town from orbit though…"
"There's not much we can do about that," Jax said firmly, "so let's focus on what we can manage. Weapons, food, medicine."
"Blankets," Ash said, "The people are cold, scared. Blankets will help with morale. Survivors. There might be survivors."
"Weapons, food, weapons, blankets, and survivors. Okay, that's a start. Who wants to tell them?"
"Will the Republic really come?" Ash asked.
"They will come," Rex said firmly.
"I can tell them," Rae said as she reached out to clasp hands with Rex. He let her squeeze his hand once, and they dove down into the water to swim back to the main chamber.
The people were understandably stressed at the news that their only protectors would soon leave them alone, but they were reassured when Rae explained that they planned on raiding the surface for supplies and planned to be gone for a few hours at most.
Later, Ash was skulking around a police station, or at least the charred remnants of one, while Jax tried to see him doing so from inside the vent cover. He had been a little aprehensive of the man's claims that he could scout the building unnoticed, but the proof of the meat was inside the shell, so he took a chance. It paid off.
"All clear," Ash whispered from outside Jax's field of view.
"You made your point," Jax said, "good work."
"It's… it's not good in there."
Jax opened up the vent cover, and dropped to all fours to creep his way to the shattered building, and his companions did so behind him.
They squeezed through a gap in the rubble and slowly shifted the rubble until they had tunneled their way to the basement stairs, which they descended immediately. They tried to ignore the singed and shattered corpses of the police officers as they crawled past or over them. They failed at this. They had marginally more success in ignoring Rae's vomit at the grizzly task.
In the basement they found chemprop weapons, magacs, plasma casters, and long distance tasers in rifle and pistol configurations, as well as some light flak armor and personal shields. "Don't bother with the casters or tasers," Jax ordered as he wrapped his hands around the familiar shape of a rifle stock, "Terrans use these for a reason." The others deferrred to his experience, and Rae went to check the other basement rooms for medical supplies.
When she cried out, Rex and the others rushed into the adjoining room, but found no danger there. Only the chief of police, a magac pistol lay at his feet, and the wall to his left was painted in a sanguine splatter. "Nim," she almost moaned in grief.
"You knew him?" Ash asked.
"My uncle."
The others murmured their apologies, none of them strangers to such loss in the past day, and Ash pulled a discarded coat over the man taken by despair. "We have to make sure the people don't decide that this is a good idea," he softly murmured.
"Okay, see what else we can find for supplies here. Kai, can we get to a clinic from the tunnels?"
"Three of them."
"We'll hit the nearest one first, then we swim out to the bay and see if we can get anything from the fishery."
Then, they once again committed to the grizzly task of crawling through the rubble.
The clinic was miraculously intact, only a little exterior fire damage from the fighting, but it was also guarded. The invaders hadn't expected anyone to actually attack with weapons, as thus far most resistance had been fierce but only armed with improvised weapons. The two guards were relieved of their duties by magnetically accelerated iron chunks that left golf ball sized exit wounds in their backs before they even knew they were under attack. Inside, there was not only a treasure trove of medical supplies, which Rae directed them to take only the most versatile or in most dire need, but there were also prisoners in one of the exam rooms. They had injuries that indicated that they were painful but not lethal. Jax was furious.
The fishery offered enough food for the next few days, and their triumphant return kindled hope in the sheltering civilians that they might just hold out.

In low orbit over Numinda:

Acolyte-Lord Gukea-Sarvon surveyed his glorious conquest. Glad he was to have received orders to seek out resource rich planets, for instead of wasting his talents spilling unworthy blood to sate the thirst of Axzuur, he had instead found a race worthy of toiling for his glory. They could never be true warriors, Five days, and he had obtained control over the system and planet. Truly, the pathetic resisance offered by their so-called fleet had dismayed him, but the reports of the ferocity with which the males and some of the females on the orb below fight against his warriors armed only with what is to hand, and sometimes merely tooth and claw, excited him greatly.
It would be pleasing to elevate the lion's share of Axxaakk serfs to more worthy work, to more… worthy services. This new acquisition would even free up many serfs to become warriors, even, which would mean more sacrifices to Axzuur, which would mean greater favor. Although, there were still pockets of resistance across the planet. Even though his forces controlled the communication infrastructure for the planetary and superluminal networks, these pockets seemed to somehow act in concert to keep vital positions outside the Axxaakk's rightful reach.
It would seem that a mere scout group was insufficient, so he was being reinforced by, Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn, who had been reassigned to a subjugation group including a battleship, three frigates, and their escorts. This should provide sufficient warriors and equipment to properly subjigate the planet, freeing Acolyte-Lord Gukea-Sarvon up for the much more pleasant task of crushing the next planet's defenses. Just two days of further drudgery until Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn arrived to take on the unenviable task of crushing the indipendent spirits of the new serfs. At least he had a few specimens for his own research in the best methods to do so to occupy his time.
Two days later, Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn had sent his counterpart sprawling off of his own dais with a metalic backhand slap, "WHY ARE YOUR ESCORTS NOT INTERDICTING HYPERSPACE EXITS AROUND THIS POSITION?"
Acolyte-Lord Gukea-Sarvon staggered to his feet in a fury, "BECAUSE MY SCOUT FLOTILLA WIPED AWAY ALL RESISTANCE IN LESS THAN A DAY!"
"Observe," Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn said coldly as he slammed a data crystal into an input, and the display screen lit up with the scene of a Terran fleet engaging an extraction fleet, and far from being swept away, they were fighting the extraction fleet to a slow defeat.
"Is that a stone temple?" Acolyte-Lord Gukea-Sarvon blurted out.
"It is."
"Why?"
"To show they can," Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn said with disgust.
Acolyte-Lord Gukea-Sarvon's eyes went wide as he asked, "How did that curiser take hits from behind."
"The Terrans apparently use kinetic weaponry, they fired the munitions in a slingshot trajectory while another ship forced it to maneuver into the line of travel."
"The calculations involved…"
"It is my belief that this is not even the main fighting force of the Terran military, for observe further," Acolyte-Lord Narrex-Quinn twisted the crystal to display a split video of several systems on the screen. "These look like merchant vessels with guns strapped to them, and Priest-Lord Tiglach-Pilexer agrees that is likely the case. These fleets are likely auxiliaries sent out to probe our strength while the Terrans gather their true forces."
"Thank you for relaying this, I shall indeed run hyperspace interdiction at the next world."
"Your orders have changed. We are to extract what we can, and carry it off to the Dominion. The expeditionary fleet is insufficient."
Acolyte-Lord Gukea-Sarvon resisted the urge to spit upon the floor. "I too have information. These… these mammal-worms are worthy of at the very least toiling underneath the Axxaakk. Though their forces are defeated, the people fight on, just as the serfs did before they were broken and rebuilt to Axzuur's glory, may the stars tremble at his step."
"They are mammals, hold hostage their young, as we do for an unruly serf."
"This is a good plan, brother."
"We must not allow the Terrans to surprise us as they did Acolyte-Lord Xamxi-Avav."
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Any and all feedback would be appreciated.
PROLOGUE:
“When the world was lit aflame by this meat grinder of a conflict I looked to you for understanding, I, in my obligation, was sent to cleanse the flames, As to fill my hollowness with the great steam clouds, You answered back, You, in your obligation, were sent to further expand the flames, As to fill your hollowness with the ash, And yet, Neither of us still feel complete, You are wrecked, remnants, And I, have cause unfathomable damage in my efforts, ‘O murdeur ‘o mine, How different are you and I?”
The last paragraph in the novel, ‘Orange fields’ recovered by clean up crews in the Eastern African front during the Sol-War, each page had to be scanned meticulously so as to recognize the chemical weaponry stained pages. The side of which the author was on is still unknown, and yet, many would like to keep it that way.
2153, a year so distant yet so predictable, corporate power rising, spineless governments, weak and unarmed civilians and hot zones becoming more and more normal and recurring; with those same governments bowing to the corporations that demand to squeeze all the profit out of those same hot zones with those same cannon fodder civilians.
“We would like to personally thank you for your service here today, your bravery and sacrifice will not go unheard, this is your chance to take back one of the world's crowning achievements, the democratic republic of congo’s ‘zenith’ medical facility; as New MPLA forces have decided to overthrow the current government, this will be the first of many ops to be enacted that will take back this beautiful land.” This ‘heart warming’ speech, presented by a vanilla UN representative was echoed throughout the interior of the troop transport airship, each soldier situated on their standardised metal seat looking down in a melancholy manner at the damp flooring. Jason Kazamai followed along, except he wasn’t acknowledging the speech whatsoever, it was all background noise, alongside the background smell of muddy and sweaty soldiers who had been picked up from a previous battle. Seeing their disgruntled look and, some, torn off limbs set a heavy precedent that these New MPLA don’t mess around; and this being atop Jason’s already, rash and most certainly unwise decision to enlist made his muscles tense to a rubber band being stretched to its fullest level of fragility. He let his rifle, the default UN service rifle, flow down onto the floor, letting its sling, which was now a, almost, car seat belt type system integrated into their ballistic vest, weigh his chest down, making that usual metaphorical feeling, real.
The speech went on for a little while longer, before cutting to a noticeably lower quality news broadcast likely filmed in some warehouse some UN employee had spare. The presenter took a few short seconds staring at the camera before he noticed it was on. “In news today, New MPLA forces have decided to show their tolerance to those who go against their new communist ideology, they have sent out videos of them maiming and executing civilians who had taken part in the Kinshasa protest. And although all governments in the UN haven’t responded, internally they have all decided to band together ‘peace forging’ groups to settle down the New MPLA; yet due to its illegality their presence haven’t been allowed to pass through news and social media filters.” Jason toyed with a little string coming off of his dryland camo shirt.
“Our last story of today covers the recent Gunblade situation regarding the UN peace forging groups, as tensions rise with the Gunblade UECs and their confrontation over not being given the contract to send their own troops into the DRC; with Vale himself in a meeting apparently cursing at a UN representative and leaving the hall. More updates will be given as they arise.” The troop transport ship made a hefty metal slamming noise, causing a few soldiers to slide down their rows of seats. “The hell was that?” A soldier shouted. Rapid pinging noises sprinkled along the outside of the walls of the ship, like metallic rain. The instant the crew in the cockpit realised the situation the ship went into a lockdown, with all doors sealing tight and the ships internals becoming padded and secured; and for extra measure all lights had turned to a red to coincide with the alarm that was going off. Jason was struck up by the seering sound of the alarm and had his back pressed fully against the back of his seat. In an act of comfort he grabbed the barrel of his rifle, trying his hardest to regulate his breathing. The sounds had stopped for a short while. The undying echo of silence filling the void as everyone awaited the sound of whether they’d be able to return home
“NO!” To coincide with the sound of a blistering missile attack, a gaping hole erupted in the side of the troop transport ship, three soldiers were instantly sucked out of the ship and into the desolate drylands. With the still blaring sound of the alarms the pilot spoke over the comms and to the nearest UN FOB in DRC, “This is NOVA-BRAGA 12 we are being attacked by UFOS I repeat this is NOVA-BRAGA 12 we are being attacked by UFOS, if there are any UN allies in the area please respond, I beg!”
Jason dug his fingernails into the small leather armrest in the seat so as to not be taken into the afterlife by the scorching hole just opposite himself. The troop transport ship wrestled to find the attacker, sending out recon virus to infiltrate the attackers vehicles and spraying in all kinds of directions their small guns. But it was all futile.
The pilot talked to the still remaining troops within the ship, “I repeat to all still living soldiers to f-follow procedures and, uh, to hold on to whatever you can, we are going to try and land in the nearest forest!” The pilot started to try and diverge most power into the barely functioning thrusters for the ship. All within started to struggle to breathe as all the air filters and cyclers were failing at a rapid pace. Jason grasped his own mouth with intense force as sickening chemicals from the burrowed servers below the floor of the ship started to leak upwards. Many soldiers did not do the same, some didn’t realise it was even there and some thought of it as some saving gas designed to help them in some way; but once they inhaled it in a matter of seconds their lungs were scorched and their throats turned into tunnels of visceral pain. The gas ever so gently passed by Jason, and he started to slip down his seat so as to not get even touched by it.
“Almost there-” The pilot sent out a blistering cry as he was turned to nothing but charred remains as another, even more powerful missile was sent out at the ship. The ship spun right as it started to fall without power towards the ground. Jason held on tightly to the metal, trying so hard to dig his fingers into the packed steel. All other soldiers were trying the same, except all screaming, crying and the likes, whilst Jason stayed silent, there was nothing else his mind could think of to do. He let out a whimper and spoke, “Please.” Before bracing for impact against the drylands.
He awoke to the sight of a head split in two, brain matter spilled along the muddy terrain and skull splinters sticking out from the ground; Jason stared at the body for a few minutes, not sure whether that corpse was himself and he was looking at himself as a ghost. He looked down, he was lodged a few inches deep into the mud, he shuffled himself around to release himself. He gasped for air as a searing pain erupted from both of his legs as he tried to move around, yet still he continued to move around, surveying the area for an escape. The ship had been torn into many large pieces which kept most of the bodies of the soldiers within making it look like they had been placed into a blender and now great fires started outside cooking them from within. A mountain of bodies laid atop one-another in the centre of the ship wreckage. A faint siren was still ongoing just in the blurry distance. Jason grabbed a nearby shard of metal and pulled himself out of the mud, he further gasped for air searching for small pockets of uncontaminated air. He lay for a few minutes, trying to gather his thoughts again. It had all happened too quickly.
He dragged himself across the terrain, passing by chunks of flesh and bone; he was in too much distress to absorb the horrors before himself. He paused in his tracks as he heard distant shots, a shadow of a standing soldier aiming a rifle at a body displayed itself off of one of the ship fragments, he fired three rounds into the likely already dead body. Jason could ever-so slightly hear muffled comms chatter, with the fire and clouded thoughts in his mind making it more difficult to do so.
The soldier finished off verifying the bodies, “No sign of the Heir.” “Keep looking, those calculations were on point he should be breathing at the very least.” The soldier reloaded his rifle, a heavily modified D4M assault rifle. A shining star of Gunblade with its on-the-fly part removal system. The soldier then, with around two others following him, passed by the shard of the ship in which his shadow was just displayed. At this point Jason had retreated backwards to where he originally was laying at, he was aiming to go beyond the ship fragment situated behind this location and then… Escape?
A few more shots were fired as the soldiers encroached to Jason’s position, they were now tired of waiting around and only took a quarter-of-a-second before dumping a few shots into a body. Jason saw just a small metre before him a pistol, and in a stark flash of feeling heroic, Jason went for the weapon; thinking to himself how he was going to be able to take down these heavily armed and skilled soldiers with a simple 9mm. As he got closer and closer to the pistol, the stench of corpses and the sound of gunfire came closer and closer. Jason hurried as fast as he could do so with his injuries to the weapon.
As he thrust forward his hand to grab the pistol, it was kicked aside by one of the soldiers, who, as soon as he aimed the rifle at Jasons dome, put down the weapon and in a hurry bent down to grab him by the throat; the soldier was dressed in all black with a sort of mage-looking cloak that went down to his shins. Although Jason didn’t intake this first, as his helm was far more of a prolific sight. A Gunblade info helm. Advanced helmets, with swanky breathing ports located just where the mouth is going up to the nose, and audio devices placed in the ears and in all of the other space being heavy ballistic glass, with going down the middle to the breather being a ingrained black parting line. The soldier held Jason up with a firm grip like Jason was a child, he stared at him for a while before speaking, “Heir secure.” The voice was digitized and muffled, yet still translatable. The soldier had scanned Jason’s head structure and other small details.
After the soldier had confirmed Jasons capturing, the op leader spoke back, “Good, good, extraction is out in two minutes, excellent work today, three birds with one stone, or missile really…” The other soldiers started speaking to the op leader, trying to get a promotion by playing nice to him. “What are the birds then?” “Well, of course we got our target, but then we also got a good cover story for why we should be sent into the DRC, the UN having their 'skilled troops' massacred by B-tier terrorists isn't the greatest show of strength, and they'll be looking for a way to put this story into the ground, which of course will be us."

This piece took the longest to finish, 5 days... With all of the detailed work. Al Fargo pulled out all the stops. A. M. Looks to be fully and completely realized by Al. And I had wanted to start out with this one, but, I decided I'd wait, to become more accustomed to Fago's animation style of characterization of A. M. Enclosed is the original artwork of Al's, plus my pencilled/inked piece, before I took it to colored pencils, an felt pens. This will be my final piece for awhile. However if you have a request for an Atomic Mouse piece of your own, let me know here or at comicbookartist and give two weeks to complete and you'll have an original up on your wall. Everyone here on Reddit has been nice about my art. Thank you all. RobC. 🙂❤️

I don’t think most Mario bosses are that bad. I will prove to you that throughout the Mario series, there are only a few bad bosses of the majority. I will try and get you on the side of Mario bosses by explaining the mechanics of every single one. (with a bit of personal bias of course)
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Super Mario Bros/Super Mario Bros: The Lost Levels:
The First Mario game’s bosses were very and I mean v e r y primitive, But I won’t fault the games or the developers, but to be fair this was one of the first games for a (fairly) Primitive console and bosses weren’t even the main focus of the game, the main focus was on the challenging platforming and level design.
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Fake BowseBowser: The boss fights in this game are very simple but could be challenging if you don't have any power-ups with the boss throwing hammers and breathing fire, but all you have to do is either run under the boss when they jump or just jump over them.
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Super Mario Bros 2/ Super Mario Bros U.S.A:
This game is where I’ll start getting into specific boss fights and how they work Individually.
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Birdo Miniboss: The Birdo miniboss is a decent boss fight that can be quite challenging especially the later versions where some of the eggs the birdo shoots out are fireballs and you have to watch if the boss is firing the eggs or the fireballs to send them back.
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Mouser: The Mouser boss fight is surprisingly fairly challenging, the fight makes you time when you’re going to grab the bombs so you don’t get blown up and time when and where you throw the bombs on Mouser’s platform so the bombs will harm him.
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Tryclyde: The Tryclyde fight, (for me at least) is pure panic as the boss shoots its fireballs at you in a near-constant spew while you have to throw the mushroom blocks at the boss and make sure to dodge the fire shot at you.
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Fryguy: The fight against Rryguy is also about timing as you have to dodge the raining fire from the boss in the first phase while you grab the mushroom blocks and throw them at the boss until it blows up. The second phase however can be very annoying trying to hit the Small fryguys while dodging them jumping at you.
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Clawgrip: The Clawgrip fight is admittingly very slow but it can be pretty engaging to dodge the hurled rocks and send them back to the boss.
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Mask Gate: The mask gate fight is probably the best in the game purely because of the sense of shock. The gates usually mark the end of the level and a moment of peace after the boss you just fought. Although the fight itself is pretty lackluster, the gate only flies around the room from side to side as you throw the mushroom blocks at the boss, the only challenge being dodging the boss when you throw the block at them.
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Wart: The wart fight can be very challenging with wart spitting out his bubbles in a line with the player having to dodge the gaps in between while throwing the vegetables from the dream machine at the obese toad.
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Super Mario Bros 3:
The third game from the Mario series has some admittedly boring bosses as pretty much all of the main bosses are the same with only about two being unique.
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Boom-Boom Miniboss: Boom-Boom is what most people think of when they say Mario bosses are bad and easy, and I agree the only “danger” is that Boom-Boom may show his spikes before you land on him to “trick” you.
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Koopalings (Besides Lemmy/Wendy): 5 of the seven Koopalings are all the same fight with very minor changes such as the ground shaking or the boss moving faster, the Koopalings mostly just fire three magic rings in your direction and jump at you when you stomp on them.
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Lemmy: The Lemmy fight is Different from the Koopalings, as Lemmy fires his bouncing balls at Lemmy and rolls around on the ball after you hit him, this doesn't mean it's hard as I don’t even think Lemmy can harm you unless you just jump right into him.
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Wendy: The Wendy fight is unique as instead of three rings Wendy summons hoops that will bounce around the room making it pretty difficult to jump on Wendy’s head since the hoops will damage you while you’re in mid-air making it impossible to dodge away from the hoops shot by her.
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Bowser: The Bowser fight is probably the best in the 8-bit era of Mario. The Koopa King will spit fire at Mario, The King Koopa will also try to shoot the fire in random directions to try to fool Mario into jumping into them, The Koopa King will also try to Ground-Pound on Mario, But this is also how you defeat him because the floor is made from breakable blocks, Mario has to guide Bowser into Ground-Pounding onto the same spot of blocks until he ground bounds into the pit below the blocks, Overall being a great boss fight.
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Super Mario Land:
The bosses of Super Mario Land are Fairly unique and different from many 2d Mario bosses with Most of them being similar to Shmup bosses.
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King Totomesu: The King Totomesu fight is a copy of the original boss fights from Super Mario Bros. The only real difference is that Totomesu can only be Jumped over to beat.
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Dragonzama: This boss fight is one of the three Shmup bosses in the game the boss is slightly challenging while the boss moves up and down on the screen shooting fireballs periodically alone is pretty easy to dodge, the real challenge comes with the energy ball that bounces around the screen making you stay on edge during the fight.
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Hiyoihoi: This boss is probably the worst of the bunch being more of a platforming challenge than a fight as the boss throws boulders at Mario, Mario having to jump on top of the boulders to get past the stone head.
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Boikinton: This boss is the second shmup boss and probably the best, the boss is fairly hectic as the cloud bounces around the boss arena and fires homing flying chickens at Mario. The Chickens can be fairly hard to dodge as the boss bounces around the arena making it hard to dodge the chickens and the cloud at the same time.
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Tatanga: Tatana is the final boss of Super Mario Land And is the final shmup boss of the game Tatanga fires large cannon balls at Mario that explode into three cannon balls when shot by Mario’s ship. This boss is overall a pretty good final boss and a very fun fight.
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Super Mario World:
This is the first 16-bit game of the Mario series and is widely known as one of the best 2d Mario games, but most people say that the bosses in the game are lackluster but I say otherwise. Let me explain.
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Iggy/Larry Koopa: These fights take place on a shell-like platform that teeters from left to right, Mario has to jump on the Koopa to send them back and knock them into the lava below, The Bosses will roll fireballs down the platform at Mario. The Larry fight’s only real difference is the Lava bubbles that leap from the lava below making the fight more difficult by its environment, overall being pretty good boss fights.
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Morton/Roy Koopa: These boss fights take place in an arena with two walls on each side that the boss will use to climb up the walls of the arena and leap down from the ceiling once they’re right above Mario, when the boss slams on the floor they will shake the ground causing Mario to be stunned in place unless he is in the air, this is dangerous as the boss will then walk over to Mario to try and damage him getting harder each time as the boss gets faster after every hit and the walls will also close in after every hit (only in Roy’s fight). This fight is fairly amazing.
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Lemmy/Wendy: These fights are, In my opinion, the best boss out of the three bosses that are shared between two Koopalings, The boss will pop out of the pipes on the bottom of the arena along with two decoy Koopalings that will damage you if you try and jump on them along with one lava bubble that bounces around the arena (two in the wendy fight), The only major difference between the two fights is that the Lemmy fight’s pipes are different heights and in the Wendy fight they’re completely level with each other.
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Ludwig Von Koopa: The Ludwig fight is my favorite boss in the game being nothing but a 1v1 against the Oldest Koopaling With Ludwig hopping around the arena making it pretty hard to jump on his head, his main attack is spitting horizontally moving fireballs at Mario making Mario have to jump over the fireballs to get to Ludwig and jump on his head. One of the best parts of the fight (in my opinion) Is after you hit Ludwig when he goes into his shell and slides around the arena at high speeds to damage Mario.
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The Big Boo: The Big Boo boss fight is a surprise being the first of the two secret boss fights in the game, the fight involves throwing grabbable blocks from under Mario at the big boo. The challenge comes from the two smaller boos that constantly go after you during the fight and the fact that you cannot constantly attack the big boo because they become incorporeal after you attack him once. This fight is a surprise since you can go through the entire game without even encountering the big boo.
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Reznor: The Reznor fight is the second secret fight of the game this time with an entire secret fortress level beforehand, the four Reznors are on a Ferris wheel and Mario has to bump the platform the Reznors are on to defeat them while the Reznor's spit fireballs at Mario after the second reznor is defeated the floor will start breaking making Mario have to jump on the Ferris wheel and try to dodge the dino’s fireballs and defeat the Reznor at the same time, being a great fight
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Bowser in the Clown Car: This Bowser fight is a very engaging battle with the Koopa king throwing down Big metal balls on top of Mario and sending down exploding m\Mechakoopas that Mario has to throw back at Bowser, After The King Koopa gets hit 3 times by the Throne Mecha Koopas he will fly above the boss arena and send down fireballs from the Clown car That can be tricky to dodge at the moment, hitting Bowser 3 more times will cause Bowser to crash ending the fight and saving the day.
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Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins:
The bosses of Super Mario Land 2:6 Golden Coins are fairly simple with most of the bosses only having 1 or 2 attacks they use through the fight to make them unique.
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Big Bird: The big bird boss fight is the most simple boss in the game but is also one of the most engaging with the Bird periodically swooping down from one of the top corners of the boss arena making Mario time when he jumps on top of his head or risk getting hit by the Bird.
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Tatanga: the Tatanga boss fight is a surprising reveal with Mario having just defeated Tatanga in the previous Mario Land game. In the fight, Tatanga flies on either the right or left side and fires out energy beams from the front of his spaceship and also fires explosive balls from the bottom of his spaceship this causes Mario to have to jump over them to avoid taking damage, but Mario also must avoid jumping too high as to not get hit by the laser beam that is fired from Tatanga's spaceship.
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Sewer rat: The sewer rat tried to attack Mario by ramming its spikes nose into him and will try to accomplish this by using the many pipes in the boss arena to try and trick Mario into not knowing where the rat is going to pop out from, the rat will also run on top of the ceiling to try and land on top of Mario when they are right above him.
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Witch: The witch has a pretty fun fight with Mario standing on three pots, the Witch will show up on either the right or left side of the boss arena and will fire a fireball at the bottom of the pots making the pot lid rise into the spikes on the ceiling hurting Mario if Mario gets launched with the lid, Mario must jump on top of the witch when she appears and make sure no to get launched into the ceiling after he lands back on the pots.
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The Three Little Pigs: This boss fight is unique with it having 3 phases (Being each of the pigs) With their separate way to attack Mario and each taking 3 hits to defeat. Starting with the first little piggy who rolls around on the ground gaining speed every time Mario jumps on his head, Then the second little piggy who jumps from left to right in an arc that can be pretty tricky to dodge, the third little piggy zig-zags around from left to right in the arena, this can make it tricky to land a hit on the pig because the pattern of the zig-zag is quite unpredictable.
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Octopus: this is the most simple boss of the game with it being able to be defeated in seconds if you try hard enough, The octopus will swim around the boss arena and spawn little octopi that swim up and off the screen, an easy boss fight overall.
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Wario: the Wario fight is an amazing fight with Wario using the same powerups and moves that Mario does throughout his adventure in three phases. The first phase of the fight starts with Wario running around the boss arena and jumping at Mario causing a stunning earthquake when he lands Mario has to jump to avoid being stunned and also avoid the falling disco balls that move horizontally from the ceiling. For the second phase of the boss, Wario will use the Bunny Cap to fly into the air above Mario and once he's directly above Mario he'll fall onto the ground trying to crush Mario under his girth. In the last phase, Wario will use the Fire Flower and throw giant fireballs at Mario that travel at him in a spiral and try to run towards Mario Simply jump on his ugly head three times and he'll shrink into the little greedy jerk he is Ending the game and giving Mario his mansion back!

I was paralyzed with fear as the reflection-like entity hovered menacingly in front of me. Its distorted features twisted into a grotesque smile, the malice in its voice cutting through the air like a chilling breeze.
"Who are you?" I managed to stammer, my voice barely audible. My heart pounded in my chest, threatening to burst through my ribcage. The reflection-like figure tilted its head, its eyes gleaming with a sinister light. "I am nothing but an Echo," it whispered, the words slithering into my ears like venomous serpents.
I jolted upright, gasping for breath. Sweat drenched my forehead as I realized it had all been a nightmare—a vivid and horrifying dream. I glanced around my room, seeking solace in the familiar surroundings. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The moonlight streaming through the window cast an eerie glow, intensifying my unease.
As I sat up, my eyes were drawn to the mirror on the opposite wall. I stared at my reflection, half-expecting to see the monster from my nightmare. But the mirror only reflected my own terrified expression. Taking a deep breath, I tried to convince myself that it was all just a product of an overactive imagination. Perhaps I had been reading too many horror stories lately, or maybe it was the result of the stress I had been under. Whatever the case, I needed to shake off this sense of dread and get some sleep.
I reached for my phone to check the time, hoping it was still early enough to salvage a few hours of rest. But as I grabbed it from the nightstand, a notification caught my attention. It was an email with a blank subject line. Confusion washed over me as I opened the email. The sender was anonymous, and the message contained only one sentence: "Did you sleep well Sarah?" My heart raced, and a chill ran down my spine. How did they know my name? And how did they know about my nightmare?
I quickly dismissed it as a sick joke, the work of an internet troll seeking to terrify unsuspecting victims. But as I tried to calm myself, another notification popped up on my screen. It was a video message from an unknown sender. Hesitant but curious, I clicked on it. The video started with darkness, but soon the image became clear. It was me, sleeping peacefully in my bed. The camera angle suggested that it was taken from within my room. I felt a surge of panic, realizing that someone had been watching me.
As the video played on, my eyes widened in horror. I saw myself tossing and turning, plagued by the nightmares that had tormented me earlier. But there was something different about this video. The room around me seemed distorted, as if reality itself was warping and twisting. The camera panned to the mirror on the opposite wall. I saw my reflection staring back at me with hollow eyes and a familiar malicious grin. It wasn't me; it was the twisted version of myself from my nightmare.
A chill ran down my spine as the video continued. The reflection started to move independently, its hand reaching out towards the glass as if trying to break through. I watched in horror as cracks formed on the surface of my mirror in real time, one by one, as they formed on the mirror in the video, spreading like a spider's web. The mirror was coming alive, its malevolent presence seeping into the room. I couldn't tear my eyes away as the reflection stepped out of the mirror, standing at the edge of my bed. Its voice echoed in a low, distorted tone, filled with malice. "Sarah, it's bedtime," it hissed, its words sending shivers down my spine.
In a panic, I reached for the lamp, desperate to dispel this nightmarish apparition. But as the light illuminated the room, the reflection vanished. I jolted upright, gasping for breath once again. "Was I still dreaming?" I pondered, my heart pounding in my chest. The room was bathed in the comforting glow of the lamp, and everything seemed normal. Had it all been just another nightmare within a nightmare? It felt so real, so vivid, but perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me once again. I took a moment to catch my breath, trying to steady my trembling hands. But as I surveyed the room, something caught my eye—the mirror was still cracked... This was a chilling reminder that the nightmare had not just been a terrible fever dream.
I rid my house of all mirrors in a desperate attempt to maybe sever its connection to my reality, and for a couple of weeks, it seemed to have worked. During that time, my life had returned to normal. The nightmares had ceased, and I began to believe that maybe the mirror itself was cursed, a gateway through which the malevolent entity had entered my life.
After a particularly exhausting day, I decided to indulge in a relaxing bath. The warm water enveloped me, easing away the stress of the day. I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to drift. As I opened my eyes, I caught a glimpse of movement in the water. My heart skipped a beat as I saw my reflection, distorted and shifting beneath the ripples. Panic surged through me, and I tried to look away, but something held my gaze.
My own eyes stared back at me from the depths of the water. The twisted reflection grinned with the same malevolent smile. It whispered in a voice that squirmed throughout my skin, "Did you miss me?"

Dracula: World of War --- The Violet Reaper ---- Humans Don’t Make Good Familiars Book 1 ---- The Lonely World --- Discord ---- YouTube --- My Patreon --- My Author's Page --- ArcAngel98 Wiki ---- The Next Best Hero ---- HDMGF Book 2 ---- Jess and Blinx: The Wizard ---- The Questing Parties ---- The Immortal Legends: The Van Helsing ---- Previous
Jake‘s POV
I was sitting on the wall surrounding the Wyvern’s Base, looking out into the surrounding area. My eyes were on the sky, and I saw several Neame flying high up in a grid pattern, each doing their patrols. While we, the familiars on the wall, watched the sky, they watched the grounds for miles around. You’re probably wondering why they don’t watch the sky, since they’re already up there, but it’s harder to do than you think. Besides, they can see more of the ground from up there than we can from down here. From where I was sitting, yes sitting, not standing, the Neame looked like little dots. To be honest, I don’t think our real job is to watch the skies. I’m pretty sure it’s to act as a last line of defense against ground attacks, but I don’t know why they would bother lying about that.
One of the other familiars, a big hairy thing called a skeker, but not named, came over and sat beside me. He looked like a mountain goat crossed with a bulldog, and he was just as friendly. I put a hand on his back and started petting him, and he started to purr; which surprised me the first time it happened. I asked his owner if I could name it, but she felt uncomfortable with that, and refused.
That’s been a trend lately; Neame feeling uncomfortable around me. For the past four months, ever since the attack by the court mages near the capital and the team Suma traveled with died, I have noticed a lot of the Neame have been treating me differently. They’ve been treating Suma differently too, but she lies and says it doesn’t bother her.
“See anything, Jake?” Suma asked over our private connection. The connection was something only she and I could hear, and allowed us to talk without speaking aloud.
“Everything still looks clear. What about you?” I asked back, still petting the skeker.
“I see something to the east. About fifteen seconds.” She said. That’s one of the ways the Neame denote distance, by how long it would take them to fly from one point to another. If the distance is short enough, they’ll use wingspans instead. Every second is about twenty or thirty meters. “It is small and trying to hide. Can you see it?”
I looked up at the sun, and quickly found east, then looked about where I thought she was talking about. “No, I don’t see anything. Should I go take a look?”
“No, I will alert the others.” She said, and ended the connection. I watched as two of the four dots dived down in the distance, before hovering above a patch of trees, but I couldn’t tell who they were. They stayed there for a few minutes, before flying back up. “False alarm, it was just a wild animal.” Suma said, and I sighed. Leaning against the skeker, my eyes started to get heavy.
Before I knew it, I was hearing Suma’s voice again, but it wasn’t in my head this time. “Jake?” She said. I opened my eyes, and saw her, as well as three others, perched on the wall’s railings nearby.
“Uh… yes?” I asked.
“Were you asleep?” Nine, one of the Neame with Suma, and a member of our squad, asked.
“No, I was…. resting my eyes.”
“For how long?” Odens, another member of our squad, wondered.
I looked up at the sun, which had moved about three inches in the sky, then back at them. “Not long.”
“If I do not get to sleep during a patrol, neither do you.” Rou, another member of our squad, joked.
“When you did not answer, I decided to come check on you.” Suma said.
“Sorry.” I stood up, accidentally waking the skeker too. “Well, at least I’m not the only sleepy-head.” Giving the skeker a pat on the head, I sent it back to its post. It was surprisingly smart, despite its goofy look.
“We need to get back to patrol.” Odens said, and glanced over to Suma. “We’ll give you a moment.” With that, the three of them flew off, leaving Suma and I alone on the wall.
“Are you still not sleeping well?” She asked. I shook my head. “It is more nightmares?”
I took a deep breath, “it’s always the same one.”
“Jake, you know if you ever want to talk about them, I will listen.”
“Thanks, I know. Would you mind summoning me real quick, so I can wake up?” I asked, and she agreed. She quickly performed a summoning spell, causing me to fade away for a moment, then reappear beside her. With that, the magic of the summoning restored my energy, waking me up.
“Jake… I have summoned you at least twice a day, for several days now. When was the last time you slept?”
“I don’t need to sleep if you keep summoning me.” I pointed out.
Suma sighed, “please try to sleep tonight. Going this long without it cannot be healthy.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“…Jake.”
“Fine. I’ll sleep tonight.”
“Thank you. I need to get back to patrol. Will you be okay?” The glittering sparkle that normally surrounds her, and every other Neame, was dulled.
“I’m awake now; go ahead.” I said. She flew away, towards the squad’s direction. Just in time too, because as soon as she was gone, I sat back down, already tired again, and with horrible cramps in my legs.
I fought through the pain, and the exhaustion, until our squad’s patrol was over. Suma flew to my room on base, then summoned me. I thanked her, and she left. Summoning my backpack, I pulled out some food my mum had put in for me, and had dinner while reading over her latest letter.
It started the way all of our letters do, with some details about our day, then any requests we may have for the other, but I’m usually the only one who has any, then that’s followed up with anything we feel the other needs to know. Apparently, in the four months I’ve been gone, the local police have put out an official arrest warrant for me, because I missed a court date for former Detective Lin’s stalking charge. That led to the charges against her being dropped, and the HMRC case against me getting reopened.
After writing a quick response to my mum’s letter, and pulling my phone out of my backpack, I sent my bag away with my letter in tow. This is how we have been communicating for the last several months. It’s slow, but it works. I told her to be careful with the bag, because she can’t touch it when I’m summoning it, or she might get pulled her too. She knows about what happened with Zachariah, and that it’s too dangerous for either of us to travel to the other right now.
Clicking my phone on, I turned on some music, and laid on my bed. I fought it, but eventually I did fall asleep. Just like every time before, I had that same nightmare.
It always starts off the same, I’m floating in an endless void, and forced to watch from a distance as my mum cries alone in her bed, slowly getting older and older, until she turns to dust. Then it usually moves on to Suma, who’s getting burned by purple flames; my flames. But it isn’t me who’s doing it, it’s the figure in flames, Deyja, the Chaos Dragon. And then, just like every time before, I jolt awake, sweating cold bullets, with my heart pounding so hard in my chest it hurts.
My phone’s still playing music, its charge says sixty percent battery remaining. Only two hours have passed since I fell asleep. That’s enough, right? Yeah, for tonight… I thought.

Short story a car crash had taken place a few meters away from me, it was scary and I want to tell someone but don't know where so I'm posting this.
Not going to enter in details of where.
I was walking to the train station close to my house because is Saturday afternoon, in the square there is this university next to a school where child's where playing basketball, next to the school is a parking lot and next to it there's a small shops building.
So I walked towards the small shops building and happened to cross in front of the cars exit. A red car stoped in the cebra path, I walk over and do a gesture with my hands to thanks the driver.
Then when I get closer to the other side of the road I hear a car breaking and locking up the wheels. My brain had to activate some survival instinct and inyected a lot of adrenaline because everything from here on was happening in slow motion for me.
I started thinking, there's a car in collision course behind me, and there was a red car going out of a parking lot just a few meters behind me, in other words, I was in danger, so I made a quick long step before jumping to the floor, I hit the ground with my right arm protecting my face and then I hear a first impact, as soon as I heard it I covered my head with my left arm and hear a second impact and feel broken glasses and plastic parts going over me. I stand up sturdy, not hearing anything and dizzy, then I look back and saw the red car close to me by less than a meter stuck into the wall, and in the middle of the road a white familiar truck, I saw the kids running over the place and a couple of lady's walking from the shops further in the streets and I yelled to them: call an ambulance.
I saw the back door of the withe truck opening, the air bag was activated and saw a girl struggling to get out, I run towards the truck, grabbed her hand and pulled her out from the waist, she was around my age (I'm 22) I asked if she was okay and she says no. I carry her out of the street and left her on the ground where a kid offered her water. The man that was driving the car was behind me walking with a bad leg and sit next to her. He was also around my age so I assume either her boyfriend or brother.
Then I started to hear again like normally and looked back to the red car, the woman sitting on the front was screaming for help, there was no airbag in the red car and the driver can't walk away. I rushed over again and pull the man out of the car, his leg had pieces of plastic and metal embedded and blood on his face. I left him on the ground and make sure the red card didn't get any fire, and then the ambulance, the police and the firefighters arrived.
I was interrogated by the police and said I didn't see what happened but hear it and went straight to help without thinking it twice.
I went to home after that. I didn't wanted to go to party today anymore.

Marc gave it another go. He tipped his hand forward. The silver patty rolled off him, dropping toward the cave floor.
It stopped short of hitting the path. The shiny disc halted in the air, dangling at the end of a thin white line.
He watched the small wheel spin. It might have been the most fun he’d had all year. Even more fun than that mud puddle he’d found the other day.
How does it keep going? Marc thought to himself. And without any power??
Marc assumed the disc was some sort of technological marvel from the past. But the Archives had little information on it, only a name. It was called a “yo-yo.”
They all must have had one of these, he posited.
As Marc walked down the stone ramp, he cast the yo-yo again. The toy’s quiet spin was the only sound in the cavern. The soft hiss of string versus metal reverberated gently in the spacious cave.
Marc focused all his attention on the little gadget. He was determined to enjoy every last minute of the universe, no matter what. And that evening, the yo-yo more than accomplished that goal.
The shimmering yo-yo, however, couldn’t prevent the world around him from crumbling. The ground started to rumble. The rest of the cave shook with it. The underground city shook as the plasma storm above battered it—and the rest of the planet.
Marc’s home broke down. Cracks appeared in the ceiling. Waterfalls of dust poured out of them. It wouldn't be long before the whole thing collapsed. That is, if the plasma storm didn’t swallow it whole first.
Whatever.
A few clumps of dirt wouldn’t ruin Marc’s fun. He pulled the hood of his shawl over his head and extended his ragged sleeves toward each hand. His clothes shielded him from the falling dust; the gritty particles made themselves at home on his messy shawl. And Marc was free to perfect his newest trick.
The rumbling died down though as Marc descended the ramp. The yo-yo string didn’t wobble so much, and he didn't have to watch his steps as carefully. He just hoped the quaking wouldn’t come back to ruin his event.
Speaking of which, Marc glanced ahead toward his destination below. What he saw rocked him even harder than the earthquake had.
What in the sinkpits…?
Marc stopped in his tracks. He even started to reach for his knife. All because he’d detected a speck of something suspicious. Something he didn't see much of every day: color.
Showy landmarks weren’t something endemic to his home. The Outpost was more of a dusty gray-and-brown sort of place. The walls were sandstone. The floor was sandstone. And the ceiling? …Granite?
No, sandstone. All under the faint glow of a string of depressed lightbulbs.
The intriguing blip in the gray-and-tan collage was farther up the path. Ahead of the ramp, on Level 8, Marc saw the same three steel doors he was used to seeing. The front doors of underground homes, lined up in a row, each closed into the cave wall.
However, there was something different about the third door. It looked… alive. Like it didn’t belong in a dreary place like the Outpost. But it was too far away to tell what exactly had been done to it.
Marc squinted at it suspiciously. The third door happened to be his destination. And now it was weird.
He considered waiting and observing the mutated door. A child of the Outpost, Marc had developed a healthy fear of the unusual.
These habits, along with his instincts, kept him safe. They’d specifically preserved him while the rest of humanity perished.
But he shrugged off the instinct to wait. Something new and “different” was ahead, and he wanted to see it.
But just as a precaution, it was time for his yo-yo’s last trick. He got in one final throw then placed the toy into his satchel. He dropped it on top of his arsenal of cables, wrenches, and screwdrivers.
And by the time he’d snapped the satchel shut, the long ramp had bottomed out. He’d made it to the next level.
To his left, the wall had been spray-painted. Scrawled-out black letters stood against the sandy background. They stated, “Now Level 8.”
Marc followed the sign. He stayed close to the wall, crossing to the stone pedestrian path. He passed one untouched steel door with a dusted-over mail slot in the wall beside it. Then he passed a second home—abandoned like the first. And finally, he arrived at his friend’s place and the mysterious blip on Level 8.
To his surprise, the steel door elicited a flush of emotion. His heart floated upward. And the portrait before him drew his focus in like an otherworldly beacon.
How did it get so…?
Marc pulled back his hood. The ground popped with the sandy grains he released.
He could hardly believe the difference. The door used to blend in with the others: another ridged steel face that spent most of its time rusting or collecting dirt.
But it was no longer muffled by the dust and dirt that had built up over the years.
Today, it sung. Paint streaks flew across its visage. They swirled and spiraled, forming stars and other shapes. Where previously gray and rust dominated, colors sprang forth—colors that Marc didn't even have the names for. They were many, and they were warm, like the evening sky just after sunset. Marc could hardly wrap his head around the entire image.
He swelled with gratitude.
Only you could have pulled this off. He thought of his friend, the painter. The one person in the colony who’d ever been any fun. The one other person in the colony who was left…
The artist had done the unthinkable. Foraging the garden below for something other than food. Spending work time measuring and concocting the perfect blends of paint. And then slathering their fingers across the giant door, until its old face was but a memory. And all that effort for only a single other person to appreciate.
Newly inspired, Marc searched for an unpainted space on the metal canvas. He found one and knocked on the door.
He took a step back and waited. The outside of the Outpost was lively. Excited wind rushed through the canyon.
By contrast, the Outpost itself was silent. If there was anyone left to say anything, they may have even called it “dead.”
Or nearly dead, anyway. The last morsel of it came to life as the door in front of Marc groaned.
It floated off the ground, inching upward. On the other side, Marc could hear a hand crank clicking away.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The corrugated door lifted, and the door rolled up. The tip of the artist’s painting started to slip from view.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
Behind the door, chains reeled at a slow clip. The heavy curtain was halfway up. Marc could now see his best friend's lower half. Buff Lenorkian legs pumped back and forth with each crank.
The door unveiled even more of the owner. A torso in a metal suit appeared. Four ripped arms stretched out of it. They rotated, moving to the clicking beats of the door.
Ktch… ktch… ktch… ktch…
The door raised a few inches further, uncovering the bottom half of a cobalt blue face. Two rows of razor-sharp teeth smiled from ear to ear. A few inches more, and Marc could see the whole of the Lenorkian’s face.
Sid greeted Marc as the last of the door raised.
“Finally!” he said.
Marc didn’t get a chance to respond. His body lurched forward involuntarily. He slammed into Sid’s metal suit.
Crrrrrick!
The armor squealed as Sid’s upper two arms squeezed him tighter. The lower set of arms had reeled Marc in.
Marc hated hugs. Stupid mushy emotional wraparounds. But just this one final time, Marc returned the gesture. He squeezed Sid back.
“Happy Worlds’ End!” Sid said from the other side of the embrace.
“Yeah,” Marc replied, “Happy Worlds’ End.”
The two separated.
“Cool painting, by the way,” Marc said. He pointed at the rolled-up door. “I didn’t think you’d top the one in the garden.”
“You think so?” Sid sheepishly smiled. “Well I’ve had more time to practice since… you know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Marc said. “Me too. That’s how I actually got you something.”
Marc swung his heavy satchel around. He rifled through it, squeezing through cables, knocking handles and parts out of the way. And then—ah.
He fished out a crumpled rag. Holding it in one hand, he began to gently unfold it.
“I found this a few days ago in the garden,” he said. The edges of the cloth fell. They revealed a small, glass object. It sparkled.
Marc continued, “I think it fits your style—I mean, I know it’s a little smudged and chipped but...”
He swirled the crystal trinket around. The cavern’s incandescent light flittered across its clear edges.
He touched it too, tracing the slender portion of it with his thumb. It was the neck of the crystal swan.
“It’s yours,” Marc said, offering up the bird.
Sid cupped two shovel-sized hands and accepted the gift.
“It’s beautiful…” he said, examining it. “I can’t believe anything like this could have survived this long.” He looked up at Marc and smiled, “Thank you so much. I just wish I had a little longer to could enjoy it.”
They chuckled lightly about their impending obliteration.
“Well, come on in,” Sid said. He extended both of his left arms. They gestured toward the cave interior. “We’ll finish off this universe how it started,” he said. He mashed his upper two fists together. “With a bang!”
“I hear that!” Marc nodded. He crossed over into Sid’s house.
As Marc passed Sid, a wave of discomfort hit him. Sid had switched out his usual t-shirt and jeans. He wore old armor instead. And the metal plating taunted Marc.
Marc’s next question came out more accusatory than curious.
“So… a Lenorkian throwback, huh?” he asked Sid.
Sid had just finished finding the perfect home for his swan. He left it on a shelf next to the front door.
He turned to face Marc. He hid his embarrassment behind a jagged smile.
“Oh!” he said. “Uhhh…” Three of Sid’s arms disappeared behind his back. The cone-shaped cuffs at the end of each wrist clanked against the back of his chest armor. The fourth arm nervously scratched his blue head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It's stupid, I guess. I can take it off… if you want.”
Marc didn’t want to address the topic head-on. He stopped in the cave’s entry. He pretended to admire the walls—as if he’d never seen sandstone before.
“No, leave it on,” he said. “You look… like a true Lenorkian.” He turn around and forced a smile.
It wasn’t enough.
“Okay, let’s get this out of the way,” Sid said. He marched up to Marc.
Sid took a deep breath before he spoke.
“Tonight's really important to me,” he continued. “This is the last impression anyone’s going to make on the universe. So I need you on board.” He continued staring down at Marc. “Can you do that? For me?”
Marc didn’t see what the big deal was. It was just a couple of best friends hanging out.
“Yeah, why not?” he shrugged. “End it the way it started.”
The exchange turned into awkward silence. Neither knew what to do next. They had never been in a situation like this before—never attended such an event. What the Archives called: a par-ty.
Sid shook off the figurative mask he’d been wearing—one that was uncharacteristically dour. His eyes lightened, and he bobbed his head knowingly.
“I went through the Archives to see how this works,” he said. He walked toward the long horizontal counter against the wall—the kitchen.
On the counter, chaos ran wild. Bowls and kitchenware spread across the surface. And the insides of his pots and pans resembled the dirty mouth of a garbage chute.
Marc wasn’t sure what to think. Was cleaning the host’s kitchen a staple of ancient parties?
Sid too seemed a bit confused. His next words came out robotically, as if he was practicing a new word he’d learned.
“’Can-I-offer-you-a-drink?’” Sid asked. He stood nervously in front of the counter.
Looking closer at it, three unusual objects stood apart from the kitchenware mess. It took Marc a while to remember what their outdated, bendy material was called.
Plastic. Three pink and plastic cups sat equidistant from one another.
“I got these from here,” Sid reached under the counter and pulled up some sort of transparent bag. Pink cups just liked the others were stacked on top of each other inside.
Sid packed the bag back under the counter.
“So?” he asked after he finished. He held all four hands together in anticipation. His smile may have looked like an industrial-grade rock shredder, but it was hard to resist his innocent blue face and big wide eyes.
Marc eyed the pink cups one last time.
“This better not kill me,” he said.
Sid wasted no time. He excitedly grabbed a cup and walked over to a large pot sitting on the counter.
Using a nearby ladle, he plunged into the vat. An unappetizing sloshing sound resulted. And Sid, as strong as he was, seemed to struggle with scooping out some of the mystery liquid. But in the end, he pulled back the ladle and unloaded an opaque, muddy liquid into the cup.
“It's a homeworld classic called fludge,” Sid said as he finished pouring.
He treaded over to his reluctant friend and handed off the plastic cup.
“Did you say ‘fludge’?” Marc asked. He swished the cup around cautiously. The earthy liquid hardly budged.
“Yeah, fludge! Us Lenorkians invented it. It’s kind of the only tasty thing we ever bothered to make.”
Marc sniffed it. It smelled… burnt? Maybe a little dusty, too? But he could have just been smelling the cave.
Sid left Marc alone with Marc’s questionable new assignment. He returned to the pot to pour himself a drink.
“Just try it!” he said.
Marc looked down again at the dark soup. It could kill him. Or maybe it wouldn't.
Either way, it was his last drink.
He took a timid sip and waited to be repulsed. The fludge trickled to the back of his tongue. As it hit, Marc’s eyes widened. But not with regret.
He swallowed.
“Now wait a minute…” he said. He smacked his lips together. Then he took another, larger sip.
This curious dark liquid had a unique taste to it. The taste was earthen—but unoffending. It also had a subtle undercurrent of sweetness to it, combined with a spicy kick. It was delicious.
“This might be the best drink in the entire Outpost!” Marc exclaimed.
Pure joy bloomed on Sid’s face. “See! I told you: the greatest thing we ever made.”
He held his own cup above his open jaws. The falling fludge was no match for the alien. He guzzled it down, licked his lips, and then went back for more.
As Sid fashioned himself another drink, Marc noticed something a tad unsettling. A third pink cup stared back at him. It prompted an uncomfortable thought, but he shoved the thought back down.
The Lenorkian carried back his second drink. Though this time, he took it in small, human-sized sips.
But he quickly reanimated. In the middle of a sip, Sid got a wild look in his eyes. His irises turned from their natural violet to scarlet. He yanked the cup from his face and swallowed.
“Argh, how did I forget?” he said. “I got music!”
Marc cut his sip short too. “No way. You got music?”
“I think so!”
Sid did an about face. He slammed the half-empty cup on the counter. Then he shuffled toward a giant metal column protruding from the far wall. Four ink-blue hands wrapped around the cover of the vent. And he went for it.
Sid struggled to pull off the cover of the vent at first. His armor ballooned around his biceps as his muscles bulged outward. Yet the cover wouldn't budge.
But it seemed like an important part of his evening plans. He scolded the stubborn vent, banging on its top.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” he said. He latched onto the vent again.
This time, he put even more effort in. To the point where Marc sensed that Sid was losing a grip on his own body. Out of his forehead, two thumb-sized cones began to rise. His breathing turned low and raspy. And his whole body seemed to expand as he repositioned himself for leverage. Then with one final pull, like a wild beast, he let out of a deep, guttural roar.
“HAWRRRRRRRRRRRGGH!” The roar echoed off the cave walls.
And with that, the stubborn vent cover finally popped off. A breath of wind pulsed through the room as the air pressure equalized itself.
But the wind wasn’t finished. After the initial pulse exited, a mighty gust picked up where the original pulse left off. The vent shot more wind into the room, but rapidly, like a storm. Tiny coarse particles rattled inside the duct. And in the room, a rush of wind whipped past Marc’s face. He felt little nips across his exposed skin as it passed him.
Both partiers shielded their faces from the most direct blasts of air. Sid smiled nervously as he looked to Marc. He raised his voice over the whining airstream.
“It’s from the sandplains above!” he said in an elevated voice. “I thought we’d use the sandstorm for music! Do you like it?”
Music… Marc wasn’t exactly an expert. Even though humans were said to be naturals at it, not much on the subject had made it into the Archives. The Outpost didn’t have much of it either. The closest he got was the occasional chant, stray birds twittering about, or maybe someone banging on rocks.
But Marc did know one thing on the subject. Where there was music, there was dancing.
That said, he had never danced before either. But a long time ago, his parents told him it was something all humans could do. It was something they carried in their blood. Once humans found a pattern in music, they could match it to their body language. And once they’d synced melody and movement, they could ride that wave to a whole new experience.
Might as well give it a shot, he thought. Marc too put his cup on the counter.
With his hands free, Marc backed up toward the middle of the room. He closed his eyes, felt the wind. It filled his ears with its gusty energy. It hit him in pumps as the storm raged above.
Though not totally predictable, the wind did hit him consistently. There was some sort of kinetic pattern to it.
Yes, a pattern.
Well actually, he’d heard it called by another name. What was that word his mother had used? He opened his eyes when he remembered: rhythm.
Marc stretched out his arms. He relaxed his hips. He felt the wind’s whips and waves across his arms. He let his arms follow them, swaying with the current. Not long after, his hips joined in. They too gyrated, trying to match the energetic gusts. He kept at it. And the first time Marc felt both himself and the wind moving together, he grinned.
“This is amazing!” he said. Around them, the wind crooned.
Sid was entranced. He nodded back while staring at Marc’s strange movements. He’d never really seen dancing either. But he figured he would give it a shot too. He loosened up his arms and walked onto the dance floor with Marc.
Before dancing himself, he studied Marc first. He watched how the scavenger moved his arms—and when the scavenger moved his arms.
Sid’s limbs followed. Four muscular arms rose in the air, like fighter jets on their way to a dogfight. And on a one or two second delay, they swayed after Marc’s.
For a while, they followed Marc completely. Then Sid went down his own path. The Lenorkian’s movements grew aggressive and battle-like. He punched at the wind swiping across him. He shuffled his feet as if swapping battle stances.
He caught Marc’s curiosity. Even as a novice, Marc could tell Sid’s movements weren’t traditional by any means. But to Marc, it was dancing all the same.
The two danced to the chorus of the air above. They laughed occasionally as changes in the rhythm of the wind tripped them up. In his head, Marc compared it to the painting on Sid’s door. The colony had never seen anything like this either.
Then something interrupted their dancing. The ground beneath them shook, throwing them off their feet. Heavy gray dirt trickled from the ceiling as the entire cave rumbled. And outside, the distant sky flashed and crackled. Its light illuminated the cave in violent spurts as the boys struggled to stand back up.
Eventually, the violent quaking and frightening flashes died down. The plasma storm held its breath once again.
The boys got back on their feet, but all the joy had seeped out of Sid’s face. He just stared at the floor in deep contemplation. Even as the windy music started back up.
Marc figured he would rescue his friend from whatever dark thoughts had turned up. Naturally, the end of the universe was a real bummer.
“End of the world got you down, huh?” He tried to laugh it off. The whole situation was pretty sad. Especially when they were having so much fun. But it was best to end the universe on a high note, right?
Nevertheless, Sid seemed dejected. He mumbled something inaudible.
“Dude, I can’t hear over the song!” Marc said in an elevated voice.
Sid spoke up over the wind. “That’s not what I’m upset about,” he said, his voice still fairly low.
“Then what are you upset about?”
Sid blurted out his response. “Because I invited Tōn-E, okay?”
He couldn’t bring himself to look Marc in the eye. Because he knew what was coming.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” Marc shouted over the music. Marc himself stomped over to the vent. He picked the cover off the floor—though he struggled quite a bit with it. It was heavier than Sid made it look. But he hoisted it back into the mouth of the vent. The music shut off. The steady drop of sand on the cave floor ceased.
“Say that again,” he leveled in Sid’s direction.
“What was I supposed to do?” Sid remade eye contact. “Not invite the only other intelligent being to the last party the universe will ever have?”
Marc needed no time to answer. He nodded insistently. “Yes. That was exactly what you were supposed to do. What the hell, Sid?” Marc would have continued, but there was another disturbance outside. He caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway.
--
Thanks for reading some of my words :) I’m trying stuff out, so let me know what you think.
The rest of the story is here
Based on a prompt by eithrotaur

Dracula: World of War --- The Violet Reaper ---- Humans Don’t Make Good Familiars Book 1 ---- The Lonely World --- Discord ---- YouTube --- My Patreon --- My Author's Page --- ArcAngel98 Wiki ---- The Next Best Hero ---- HDMGF Book 2 ---- Jess and Blinx: The Wizard ---- The Questing Parties ---- The Immortal Legends: The Van Helsing ---- Previous
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Jake‘s POV
I was sitting on the wall surrounding the Wyvern’s Base, looking out into the surrounding area. My eyes were on the sky, and I saw several Neame flying high up in a grid pattern, each doing their patrols. While we, the familiars on the wall, watched the sky, they watched the grounds for miles around. You’re probably wondering why they don’t watch the sky, since they’re already up there, but it’s harder to do than you think. Besides, they can see more of the ground from up there than we can from down here. From where I was sitting, yes sitting, not standing, the Neame looked like little dots. To be honest, I don’t think our real job is to watch the skies. I’m pretty sure it’s to act as a last line of defense against ground attacks, but I don’t know why they would bother lying about that.
One of the other familiars, a big hairy thing called a skeker, but not named, came over and sat beside me. He looked like a mountain goat crossed with a bulldog, and he was just as friendly. I put a hand on his back and started petting him, and he started to purr; which surprised me the first time it happened. I asked his owner if I could name it, but she felt uncomfortable with that, and refused.
That’s been a trend lately; Neame feeling uncomfortable around me. For the past four months, ever since the attack by the court mages near the capital and the team Suma traveled with died, I have noticed a lot of the Neame have been treating me differently. They’ve been treating Suma differently too, but she lies and says it doesn’t bother her.
“See anything, Jake?” Suma asked over our private connection. The connection was something only she and I could hear, and allowed us to talk without speaking aloud.
“Everything still looks clear. What about you?” I asked back, still petting the skeker.
“I see something to the east. About fifteen seconds.” She said. That’s one of the ways the Neame denote distance, by how long it would take them to fly from one point to another. If the distance is short enough, they’ll use wingspans instead. Every second is about twenty or thirty meters. “It is small and trying to hide. Can you see it?”
I looked up at the sun, and quickly found east, then looked about where I thought she was talking about. “No, I don’t see anything. Should I go take a look?”
“No, I will alert the others.” She said, and ended the connection. I watched as two of the four dots dived down in the distance, before hovering above a patch of trees, but I couldn’t tell who they were. They stayed there for a few minutes, before flying back up. “False alarm, it was just a wild animal.” Suma said, and I sighed. Leaning against the skeker, my eyes started to get heavy.
Before I knew it, I was hearing Suma’s voice again, but it wasn’t in my head this time. “Jake?” She said. I opened my eyes, and saw her, as well as three others, perched on the wall’s railings nearby.
“Uh… yes?” I asked.
“Were you asleep?” Nine, one of the Neame with Suma, and a member of our squad, asked.
“No, I was…. resting my eyes.”
“For how long?” Odens, another member of our squad, wondered.
I looked up at the sun, which had moved about three inches in the sky, then back at them. “Not long.”
“If I do not get to sleep during a patrol, neither do you.” Rou, another member of our squad, joked.
“When you did not answer, I decided to come check on you.” Suma said.
“Sorry.” I stood up, accidentally waking the skeker too. “Well, at least I’m not the only sleepy-head.” Giving the skeker a pat on the head, I sent it back to its post. It was surprisingly smart, despite its goofy look.
“We need to get back to patrol.” Odens said, and glanced over to Suma. “We’ll give you a moment.” With that, the three of them flew off, leaving Suma and I alone on the wall.
“Are you still not sleeping well?” She asked. I shook my head. “It is more nightmares?”
I took a deep breath, “it’s always the same one.”
“Jake, you know if you ever want to talk about them, I will listen.”
“Thanks, I know. Would you mind summoning me real quick, so I can wake up?” I asked, and she agreed. She quickly performed a summoning spell, causing me to fade away for a moment, then reappear beside her. With that, the magic of the summoning restored my energy, waking me up.
“Jake… I have summoned you at least twice a day, for several days now. When was the last time you slept?”
“I don’t need to sleep if you keep summoning me.” I pointed out.
Suma sighed, “please try to sleep tonight. Going this long without it cannot be healthy.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“…Jake.”
“Fine. I’ll sleep tonight.”
“Thank you. I need to get back to patrol. Will you be okay?” The glittering sparkle that normally surrounds her, and every other Neame, was dulled.
“I’m awake now; go ahead.” I said. She flew away, towards the squad’s direction. Just in time too, because as soon as she was gone, I sat back down, already tired again, and with horrible cramps in my legs.
I fought through the pain, and the exhaustion, until our squad’s patrol was over. Suma flew to my room on base, then summoned me. I thanked her, and she left. Summoning my backpack, I pulled out some food my mum had put in for me, and had dinner while reading over her latest letter.
It started the way all of our letters do, with some details about our day, then any requests we may have for the other, but I’m usually the only one who has any, then that’s followed up with anything we feel the other needs to know. Apparently, in the four months I’ve been gone, the local police have put out an official arrest warrant for me, because I missed a court date for former Detective Lin’s stalking charge. That led to the charges against her being dropped, and the HMRC case against me getting reopened.
After writing a quick response to my mum’s letter, and pulling my phone out of my backpack, I sent my bag away with my letter in tow. This is how we have been communicating for the last several months. It’s slow, but it works. I told her to be careful with the bag, because she can’t touch it when I’m summoning it, or she might get pulled her too. She knows about what happened with Zachariah, and that it’s too dangerous for either of us to travel to the other right now.
Clicking my phone on, I turned on some music, and laid on my bed. I fought it, but eventually I did fall asleep. Just like every time before, I had that same nightmare.
It always starts off the same, I’m floating in an endless void, and forced to watch from a distance as my mum cries alone in her bed, slowly getting older and older, until she turns to dust. Then it usually moves on to Suma, who’s getting burned by purple flames; my flames. But it isn’t me who’s doing it, it’s the figure in flames, Deyja, the Chaos Dragon. And then, just like every time before, I jolt awake, sweating cold bullets, with my heart pounding so hard in my chest it hurts.
My phone’s still playing music, its charge says sixty percent battery remaining. Only two hours have passed since I fell asleep. That’s enough, right? Yeah, for tonight… I thought.

Here's the first half of the story
The two teens both looked toward the front of the room. There was a gray sphere. Hovering in the doorway.
But if you asked Marc, it was an annoying gray sphere. And it hovered in the doorway like an absolute rustnut.
Marc wasn’t sure where on the sphere to level his disdain. The whole dumb surface was the same all over. It was a series of interconnected, translucent hexagons. Stupid yellow lights blinked sporadically across its many faces—for no apparent rhyme or reason—perhaps just to further annoy Marc.
An electronic voice called out from the sphere. “Did I hear muuuuuusic?” he asked. “Before that last plasma burst?”
Marc shot Sid a glare that could kill. But the big blue alien didn’t back down.
“Last impression. Remember?” he told Marc before going toward Tōn-E with a brimming, sharp-toothed smile and arms extended. “Tōn-E! Glad you could make it! Come on in.”
On the inside, Marc cringed. He mostly tried to forget that Tōn-E walked (hovered?) the same Levels as them. Tōn-E represented the most self-destructive habits of the Outpost. The only features of the city indifferent to survival.
But Tōn-E was all too real. He entered the room like a ghost in a nightmare.
“I am also happy to be here,” he said. The faces of his sphere randomly lit up as he spoke. “I otherwise had no plans for tonight. Because the planet is set to explode.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Sid joked.
“I approximate it will only take a few more—hold on. What is this??”
Tōn-E spun slowly in the air. The side previously facing Sid rotated toward the ceiling. When it reached the top, a spotlight shot toward the ceiling—right where Sid’s door had slotted in.
The spotlight stretched horizontally across the door until it resembled a straight line. This line swept back and forth across the raised door. It moved as if he was cleaning it.
“I don’t believe it!” Tōn-E said. “What an exquisite painting. A remarkable addition to your growing and ever-expanding portfolio, Sid.”
Tōn-E finished his scan of the painting. His expanding spotlight shut off. And he re-centered himself to face Sid.
“Aww, shanks,” Sid said. Each of his right arms latched onto the bends of the left ones. “You really think so?”
“Of course! There are colors here I’ve only seen named in the logs. You have tastefully incorporated /#FF00FF: a color our ancestors previously referred to as ‘magenta.’”
“Yes! That’s right! I was going for ‘magenta!’ You really think I did it?”
Marc looked down to hide his face. He rolled his eyes. Magenta. He would have loved to tell Sid how much he liked it too. But Marc had spent his years surviving, not studying colors in old, useless historical archives.
Sid and Tōn-E continued their snooty, pretentious discussion.
“I made it mixing legblee blood and just a liiiiiiittle bit of groundwater,” Sid said.
“That was a very clever! Allow me to save your painting to my internal memory.”
“Really??” Sid’s cheeks greened a little.
“Yes, I will review at a later time when I am both unable to view the original but would still like to once again be inspired by your clever and skillful hands.”
“Tōn-E, I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
Marc simmered in his anger. Stupid Tōn-E. Always ruining things. Making them about him and his dumb, endless archives.
“I am perhaps only more impressed by your chosen ensemble! Do my eyes perceive veritable Lenorkian armor?”
The talkative orb whooshed toward Sid. It began revolving around him like an annoyingly-attached moon. As his exo-orb hummed excitedly, Tōn-E rattled off his useless knowledge of antiquated armor.
“Snorp-resistant spiked shoulder caps?!” He spun around Sid’s midsection. “Triple-layered chest plates?!” He dropped closer to the floor. “Anti-gravity shin guards made from the rare lenorkium alloy?!”
Tōn-E giggled as he orbited Sid. His laugh disturbed Marc. It sounded like a space rat being strangled in the bowels of an undersea air vent.
Sid could hardly keep up with Tōn-E’s flying. But he looked happy with the attention. “Yeah! I’m told this suit was built for the Frost Ring wars,” he said. “It never got used.”
Marc continued to not engage. He slunk deeper into his shawl, folded his arms, and sighed.
“I don’t believe it!” Tōn-E said.
He backed off from Sid, flying back toward the doorway. He turned on his spotlight once again. It now stretched over Sid’s body. “Saving! Saving!”
Sid wasted no time posing for the occasion. He flexed all four arms and gritted his snaggling teeth. His irises turned a deep red and his two small horns protruded from his forehead. Tōn-E was overjoyed. “I did not think I would ever have the chance to record your agitated state,” he said.
I’ll show you an agitated state, Marc thought to himself.
“I’ve got a relic you’re going to love,” Tōn-E said. His tiny sphere filled the cave with noise. But it wasn’t Tōn-E’s usual metallic voice. The sound came from another species entirely.
“GwwwwwwuuuhhhAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!”
His orb played an intense, ear-shuddering roar. The recording may have been slightly fuzzy, but Marc knew the source. It was unmistakably Lenorkian.
And like the gears in a drill, something appeared to “click” inside Sid. His eyes widened. His armored chest expanded. And he joined in. But Sid’s roar was… authentic.
“HRRRRRRRRRGAAAAAAAAHHHHH” he blasted out of mouth. Marc’s entire rib cage vibrated uncomfortably.
It spooked Marc. Igniting some primal desire to escape a dangerous predator. That was a feeling he never felt around Sid. He didn’t like it.
Sid himself even looked embarrassed for a second. Something he’d kept suppressed had slipped out. But Tōn-E turned up the volume on his recording. And with a cautious smile of someone nervously breaking a rule, Sid matched it. And then some. The two bellowed together. It was enough to make Marc queasy, although it was unclear whether it was due to the vibrations or Sid bonding so much with Tōn-E.
The roaring continued. Their talking continued. Tōn-E went on about Sid’s armor some more and his people’s valor and the hardship his ancestors must have faced.
“Usually I keep this stuff stashed away,” Sid said to Tōn-E in his soft normal voice. His horns had retracted, and his eyes had returned to normal. “These are shameful pieces of our history. Truly. And with a people I never really fit in with. But tonight, it just felt right to wear it, you know?”
“I understand completely,” Tōn-E said. “It is in these end times that we gravitate toward those traditions that were so much of what made us feel alive in the first place.”
The statement made Marc want to hurl. He didn’t want to entertain such stupid notions. But the gremlin rotated to him next.
“Hello Marc! Did you find any good junk today? Any new additions to your scrap pile?”
Marc seethed. “I didn't scavenge today, Tōn-E. There wouldn't be any use. It's the end of the universe.”
“That surprises me. Humans love their junk and doodads.”
“Yeah well, we don’t have to cling to the past, do we? Not like that ever saved anyone.” He hugged his wrapped arms even tighter, tilting his body away from Sid and Tōn-E. His cold shoulder ended the conversation.
Sid picked it back up. “So Tōn-E, do you, uh… drink?”
As it turned out, he did. Tōn-E accepted a cup of fludge. He held it with a robotic arm—one that had suddenly extended from his exo-orb. Tōn-E’s orb whirred as the center of his “face” sprouted a grotesque, needle-like proboscis. It poked outward like a long nose.
This straw extended into the cup he held. Tōn-E sipped the fludge like an insect sipping nectar (whatever those two things were; the Archives were spotty).
Sid waited with anticipation. Then Tōn-E’s sphere shuddered. The fludge must have reached the insufferable little creature on the inside. “Scrumptious!” he said.
Marc sighed quietly to himself. For some reason, he thought the night would have made a turn for the better if Tōn-E had hated it.
“Two for two!” Sid pumped three victorious fists into the air. He grinned as Tōn-E’s straw dipped into the cup once more. The straw made a little slurping sound.
“My taste buds are tingling!” Tōn-E said.
But the big cup was too much for him to finish. He returned the mostly-full drink to Sid. And his robotic straw receded to his exo-orb. Sid of course finished the cup, slurping up the remaining pool of fludge.
“So…” Sid said. He wiped his mouth. “Should I put some tunes back on?” He pointed over his shoulder to the idle vent. Then he looked across his two guests for an answer.
Marc shrugged. He didn’t care about anything anymore. Next to Marc, Tōn-E bobbed excitedly.
“Oh, yes!” he said. “One reads about concepts such as scales and measures, but it is entirely different to actually experience them with one’s own body!”
What body? Marc thought to himself. And what were the other things Tōn-E had mentioned? Something about… measuring… dragons?
He studied the cave floor while Sid skipped to the vent.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Sid said. “Get those Level 7 legs ready!” He tugged at the creaking cover once more.
It came off easier this time. With a pop! the storm above returned to the cave. Its natural melody filled the room.
“Woooooooo!” Sid raised his hands again and walked back toward the other two.
Tōn-E mimicked him with two twig arms.
But the music didn’t have the same magic as before. The beats were stale. And Marc found himself unable to ignore the sting of the sand pelting his face. He lifted his shawl over his mouth. His voice was barely audible.
“I’m sitting this song out,” he said.
The other two didn't seem to hear him. They were facing each other, waving their arms sporadically against the air current.
Marc didn’t care. He grabbed his unfinished drink from the kitchen. Then he searched for a place to sit.
He found a couch, just in front of the dancing aliens. As he took his seat, his bottom started to sink into the sofa. The tarp covering the couch crinkled.
He tried guessing the material underneath it. Clay, maybe? He pondered the question while watching Sid and Tōn-E figure out dancing without him.
“This is how Marc was doing it before!” Sid said to Tōn-E. His four arms fanned across the breeze.
But he got everything wrong. His arms whipped around the wind, not with it. And he was thinking too much about his next move, as evidenced by his scrunched brows. But the greatest offense of all was his midsection: his hips and legs stayed in place—as if someone had threatened them.
A part of Marc wanted to get up and show him how it was done. But another part wanted to see Sid fail. Realize the effort was futile. Give up on bonding with Tōn-E. And kick the Sphere of Useless Facts out of his house.
“Am I doing it right, Marc?” Sid asked while each of his arms flew in a different direction.
“You look great!” Marc replied. He took a long sip of fludge.
Tōn-E, on the other hand, did his best to replicate Sid. He waved his skinny arms erratically. It almost made Marc laugh; Tōn-E looked like he’d been set on fire.
But in all, the whole thing was awful. A bad impression giving birth to an even worse impression.
And they didn’t seem to be enjoying it much either. Despite Marc’s glowing endorsement, Sid and Tōn-E danced themselves to the brink.
Sid kept losing his balance. He tried to keep up with the music but flung himself too hard in any one direction. And every time he made a misstep, he’d let loose an acidic snarl. Tōn-E grew frustrated as well. Every few seconds, he simply froze. His exterior lights would blink red in error. As Marc had hoped, the two “painting pals” quickly ran out of steam.
The dancing halted altogether. A tired Sid returned to the vent and hoisted the grate back onto the vent’s mouth. The music stopped.
“I’ll just turn it down for a minute,” he said. He adjusted a dial on the grate. The metal slits creaked open. And a muted sandstorm flowed through them.
The music reflected the overall energy in the room: depleted. Sid secured himself two more cups of fludge before joining Marc on the tarp couch.
Tōn-E followed his lead. The little troll took a seat too, which meant hovering over the last open spot on the other side of Marc.
The boys took a minute to relax on the couch. They sat quietly while the plasma storm above the Outpost boomed and cracked.
Well, Sid and Tōn-E relaxed. They chugged down another couple cups of fludge and floated quietly over the couch (respectively). Meanwhile, Marc continued to be annoyed. He considered stepping outside and climbing to Level 1. Offer himself to the plasma storm a few hours early. The non-stop hum of Tōn-E’s exo-orb goaded him further.
Brrrrrrrrr!
Did it really have to make that noise?
Marc didn’t think the afternoon could get any worse. And then it did. Because Tōn-E’s insufferable humming suddenly quieted. And that only could have meant…
“Oh!” Tōn-E exclaimed, “I know what we can talk about!”
Marc braced for impact. His nails dug into his knees.
Don’t you dare, he thought.
“I read the most interesting fact about cats today!” Tōn-E started.
Not again, Marc thought. Absolutely NOT again. His fists trembled with rage.
“Did you know cats were the central deity across ten different ancient civilizations? The trend started with humans, of course, but the religion quickly spread across the galaxy as interplanetary travel became more widely available.”
“I actually didn’t know that,” Sid said, entertaining Tōn-E’s ridiculous theory. “Where did you find that?”
“The Archives! They have somewhat documented this phenomenon. You see, it was a common practice to capture footage of cats, even in their sleeping state. They were so important to these cultures that even the most mundane moment yielded significant reason to capture and worship them. If you want to see, I can—”
Marc had had enough. He slammed his cup down on the floor and flew off the couch.
“—SHUT UP. SHUT UP ABOUT CATS!” he shouted. He swung back around to face the other two. “CATS AREN’T REAL TŌN-E! AND THEY WERE NEVER REAL!”
“That’s enough, Marc!” Sid clenched his teeth.“Don’t start this.”
Marc returned fire, “I didn’t start anything; that was YOU. Going behind my back! Inviting more of these… fairy tales!”
His emotions overwhelmed him. He didn’t know whether to yell more or start crying. He did both.
“It’s the end of the universe!” he said as tears streamed down his face. “We can’t keep clinging to the things that brought us to this point in the first place! All these stupid traditions are the reason no one’s even here with us now! IT KILLED THEM ALL! And anyone stupid enough to keep believing in them is—"
“—I said THAT’S ENOUGH!” Sid growled. Marc didn't care.
“NO!” he said. Then he looked back at Tōn-E. “NONE of what you’re seeing in the Archives is real! The data is corrupt! It’s ALL CORRUPT! And CATS are just another dumb fairy tale to keep people like you going, while…”
He ran out of steam. He realized there was no more “going.” In fact, there was no time remaining in the universe for anything. But that didn’t diminish his animosity and anger toward the world. He glared down at the gray sphere. His chest heaved.
Meanwhile, Sid kept a cooler, bluer head. He too looked to Tōn-E, but with compassion in his eyes.
Tōn-E didn’t immediately respond to either. The only sound in the room came from his exo-orb. Well, the exo-orb plus the ladle on the counter, which suddenly blooped into the big pot.
All eyes were on the atypically quiet alien, whose hexagonal faces began to light up.
“I suppose,” his voice trailed, “that cats may not have been real after all. You said it yourself: records are foggy. They’re all from thousands of years ago...” He sighed. Tōn-E’s lights transitioned to a new blinking pattern. “And I also suppose… that I should have been more mature about interpreting error-prone information in the Archives…”
“It's okay, man,” Sid said. “I like that you dream big.” He reached across the couch to place a comforting hand on Tōn-E. But Tōn-E floated out of reach.
“I understand my presence here is probably upsetting,” he said. “You two have a special bond. I should not have interfered with it in its last moments. I will go.”
“No, Tōn-E,” Sid said. Each pair of his hands met in front of his chest “Please stay. You have every right to be here too.”
“I should go,” Tōn-E said. “I will spend the rest of the evening focused on real things. And because I will no longer be here, I suppose it will be the perfect opportunity to review Sid’s art so I can feel inspired for the end times.”
He slipped between Sid and Marc toward the doorway.
“No, don’t!” Sid called after him. “We should do this together.”
But Tōn-E had already vanished outside.
The Lenorkian, hand extended, waited for Tōn-E to come back. But the floating sphere did not reappear in the doorway.
And that was when a low trill emanated from the couch. It was coming from Sid’s his chest. He looked up at Marc, glaring. He bared his pointed teeth. His horns reappeared. And his eyes flushed with scarlet pigment.
Yuh-oh, Marc thought. About half his prior anger evaporated. Fear of a fight took hold.
Marc didn’t exactly dislike his chances. Lenorkians may have been stronger, but Sid wasn't a fighter. Marc was.
But Sid stuck to his morals.
“GET OUT!” Sid shouted.
Marc reflexively jumped out of reach. The short hop sort of ruined his show of anger. But he was still boiling mad. After all, fifty percent of him hadn't abandoned the cat grudge.
“Fine!” he shouted back. “Have fun exploding alone.” He whipped away to the exit.
The party was finished now. He almost stopped and went back for his fludge. But he didn’t want it anymore either. He just wanted a nice end of the universe with his friend. And now the end of the universe was ruined.
At least the apocalypse outside was behaving predictably. Marc stepped into the adjacent cave corridor. He surveyed the damage outside, looking through the long, horizontal gap in the cave wall. As the experts had predicted, the plasma storm took its toll.
The canyon glowed eerily bright, despite it being evening time. The wind howled as it raced through the canyon. And the cliffs around the gorge flashed white and pink as the storm charged with electricity, preparing to make its final jump.
Lightning cracked toward the ground. Some of the bolts hit the opposing cliff, sending rubble deep into the gorge. A gentle tremor rumbled in the ground beneath him.
The plasma storm overhead only creeped further around the planet. As the canyon brightened, shockwaves coursed through the entire city. They threw Marc off his feet again. He hit the ground.
Behind him, thunderous clacking erupted. The sound of falling rocks filled the corridor. He flipped over to see what explosion had thrown him.
It was bad. He stopped breathing. Because he could no longer see Sid’s home. All he saw was a pile of rubble.

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Entry 8

From the moment I entered the custody of the Sentinel Suns, my life transformed into a living hell. Each morning, the reverberating clank of chains echoed through the corridors as a procession of fifty individuals, including myself and my cellmate, shuffled forward. For the first time in my life, I feel small, I am dwarfed by the hulking physiques of the others in my procession. It is a striking realization, further emphasized by a fellow prisoner who, despite being over a whole foot shorter than me, is ripped as all hell, with biceps almost thicker than my legs combined!
The chow hall beckons, a temporary sanctuary from the brutality that defines our existence. We shuffle forward, drawn by the scent of a meager yet substantial meal, its flavor subdued but enough to quell the gnawing hunger within. The portions we receive are meticulously measured, a calculated reminder of our individual worth in this dehumanizing realm. As we hastily consume our rations, a palpable tension fills the room, for time is a luxury we cannot afford. Taking too long to eat invites violence, as our time to eat is limited, and wasting food or defying orders leads you to be beaten unconscious by the guards and become a fixture hanging from the battlements. So, I take this fleeting interlude to gather my thoughts and muster resolve for the harrowing yet to come.
Breaking the uneasy peace, a guard emits a clarion call of a whistle that cuts through the air and jolts us into attention, our bodies stiffening as if in sync. With measured steps, we march out of the door, leaving behind the confines of the inner keep. As the outside air brushes against our faces, our senses are immediately assaulted by an unholy stench that permeates the surroundings. The source of this vile odor awaits us—a monstrous cart, resembling the size of a colossal train wagon on wheels. A dozen of these abominations accompany us, as we rhythmically march on, urged onward by the anguished cries of the rulebreakers, their bodies hanging from the battlements and flogged in a haunting rhythm to keep our pace, I cast my gaze down and seek to shield myself from the sun as much as possible as we embark on our arduous journey, pushing the wagon steadfastly eastward, fanning out until the other vanish from view.
Tentatively, we make our way through the desolated industrial hub, a landscape of ruins and despair. Amidst the wreckage, chimneys stood as stoic sentinels, spewing smoke that briefly dances with a myriad of vivid hues above, an eerie spectacle against the desolate backdrop. Within certain structures, a hive of activity unfolds, causing the very ground to quiver beneath our weary feet. As we converge at designated collection points, we encounter a somber assembly of chained and exhausted souls, their toil centered around the arduous tasks of shattering rocks and bearing heavy loads. Envy gnaws at my insides every time I see them, for though their labor is far from easy, it lacks the soul-crushing horror that stains my own. We, a disparate group assigned the grisly duty of scavenging, a macabre amalgamation of garbage collectors and corpse retrievers, pauses intermittently to load our carts with the repulsive remnants of life and the accumulated refuse that marked these sorrowful junctions.
Beneath the unforgiving sun, we toil with a mixture of revulsion and numbness. At every of these collection points, we stop the wagon, attach a ramp that hangs to the side of the vehicle and form a line, passing buckets of limbs, waste, and whole corpses to each other until finally, the one at the end would throw it in the cart. Even after a week I can’t help but shiver every time my hands come into contact with cold, clammy skin. The texture of rotting flesh clings to my fingers, an indescribable sensation that makes bile rise in my throat just thinking about it.
Each body loaded onto the wagon leads to a louder chorus of anguished moans and pained groans to get that thing moving again. The weight of death settles upon me like a leaden shroud, both physically and emotionally, as we strain against the sheer physicality of lifting these lifeless figures. By the time the sun reaches its zenith, my muscles cry out in protest, yet I persist, driven by a grim determination to accomplish this gruesome duty or suffer the consequences. Rivulets of sweat cascade down my forehead, a desperate response to quell the scorching onslaught of light that saps my vitality, only to mingle with the layers of grime and filth that clings to my exhausted frame.
The relentless march continues as we push forward, our bodies are strained and weary, dragging the laden cart back to the dire fortress that every day seems closer to its original grim design. We are joined by other wagon crews, forming a parade of the damned, our carrion load in tow.
Amidst the chilling cries that reverberate through the air, we are herded toward one of the looming interior warehouses. Its door yawns open, resembling a merciless guillotine awaiting our arrival. With aching muscles, we attach the cart to the towering lifting mechanism, its massive wheel lever demanding our strained efforts. The sound of our labored panting is swallowed by the clanging symphony of metal emanating from the cart, accompanied by the sickening sloshes that erupt as the putrid contents spill forth. Once the mechanism is securely locked, we venture inside, our hearts heavy with the impending task. With grim determination, we scrape the remaining refuse into the cell and run back out before the gate descends with a resounding thud. A middle gate swiftly rises and falls back into place, sealing off the wretched scene.
Duty pulls us towards the next stage of this unyielding mistreatment. The rear gate yawns open, beckoning us towards the repulsive chore of cleansing the manure-infested cell. With every ounce of strength, we have the foul mixture into the hexagonal pools, and stagnant lagoons nestled amidst the desolate warehouses. The mere sight evokes a visceral recoil, a loathsome amalgamation of waste and debasement. The scorching heat weighs upon us, intensifying the noxious miasma that pervades the air. It doesn't take long for retching to resonate, mingling with the futile attempts to flee, only to be met with a forceful encounter with the grimy floor.
Once the grueling task of cleaning is complete, we are commanded to strip off our clothes and press ourselves against the cold, unforgiving outer wall, joining the other groups. Then comes the onslaught—the scalding torrent of teal liquid used to cleanse us. Initially, the dead bodies were the pinnacle of horror for me, but now I realize that this daily ritual is the true torment. The moment the shower hits me, I gasp for air, collapsing onto the floor, my throat burning under the assault of the overpowering minty scent. It takes the collective strength of my fellow prisoners to lift me back to my feet. One by one we shuffle towards our shepherds, as one waves his hands magically drying us while the other hands us fresh attire before hurriedly ushering us back to the chow hall. Dinner feels like a brief respite compared to breakfast, but eventually, the blaring whistles pierce the air, signaling our return to the confines of our cells. The question lingers in my mind—how much longer can I endure this?