The Gatekeeper

“Control, it’s a trick of the light. An illusion preached by kings and congress across the known universe and history. A crumbling capitol, a god forgotten, an eternal mountain worn to dust by the wind and rain.”

 

The Vaynegia created itself; a force alien to the universe and in contrast to all natural laws. Using its unreal power the ancient dragon Sellaya crafted great cities, spanning galactic clusters, and instruments that defied and defined the very fabric of reality. All came with a price. The universe strained and split and god its self was refracted into a rainbow of deities: the Ogigah wraiths. A soul divided cannot survive and schism burned across all space-time.

To right this wrong, Sellaya attempted to summon the Vytorneyga; a force outside reality to erase the decay. In doing so the universe would heal and merge but it would also bring a cataclysm threatening to end all life. The guardian dragons Sayth and Spiral fought against this fate and instead found a force of creation. In this convergence, the universe was reunited and the Ogigah destroyed. A waning rainbow. That was one year ago, today.

The absence of gods created a power vacuum. Reality bending technology and cities of the ancients waited like precious jewels for the taking. The blood king Phallun was the first to snatch away these miracles. He sought to resurrect his love from beyond the ghate, a dimension where souls pass from one life to the next. In doing so, he slaughtered mercilessly to tear it ajar and waged war across the universe and its pocket dimensions. Gaining the power of the ghate, none seemed able to oppose him. The war of life raged on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1

A young girl, not more than the age of four by appearance, found herself in a dark room with no memory of who she was or how she’d gotten there.

“Hi, hi!” she shouted. Her sweet voice dripped off the drapes and dark stone walls like honey. It was cold, old, wet and cold. The stain glass windows offered but dying light, sharp and unwavering. They presented vivid triangles of violet and red encasing thorny roses drenched of blood. A lonely, sunken room of someone else’s memories. Only her echo answered back.

She stumbled nervously down the corridor. A black cloak and hood swaddled her tender frame and bright red hair. Robes of equal black adorned her chubby body. The rich carpet felt plush and lustrous beneath her bare feet. A massive rug over dark marble. It too was stitched of elegant roses and bordered in gold thread.

The path stretched on, long and narrow, and at its winding peak she could see a great double door of arch wood. At the end opposite stood a statue. A woman, marble blue and white and grey. She was dressed in a ball gown, drizzled of fringe, and atop her head was found a crown. Not a word passed her cold stone lips.

“Hello-y oh-y,” cried the girl. Nothing and no one; not a soul answered back.

She stumbled on towards the ebony doors. It was scary here, not immediately frightening but that tense static found skittering down the back of her neck. The patter of rain beat beyond the walls, light yet irregular. Her still breath seemed to shout in an otherwise silent hall. And that hall seemed to stretch forever. Or maybe it was her apprehension holding her back. For as unheard and unwelcoming as the room might be, she couldn’t help but wonder what monsters lie in wait on the far side of the foreboding doors.

That was not the case however as that very moment a women burst through the stain glass window, dribbling black trickles of ink. She was tall, tall as any would seem to the small child, and towered above her. Black, gold and violet robes covered her body save her face and in intricate patterns about them was found the mark of a crooked and squiggled “X” with two opposite corners longer than the others. A black cloak concealed her eyes but strains of long, crimson hair could be seen cascading down her shoulders. She walked forth on a muddy trail, each step a clap of thunder. The girl gasped.

“Come here child,” the woman cooed. She dashed forward and caught the girl by her collar, hoisting her off the ground. Her hood slipped away and the girl could see violet eyes burning like tiny bonfires. Five more eyes opened across her smooth and perfect face; two on either side and one on her forehead. Seven total, violet and alight. The woman held her free hand aloft and her many fingers grew long and sharp like knives toward the girl’s face.

Suddenly, some force burst in a boom of air knocking them apart and to the ground. The girl rolled across the floor.

“Run!” a voice said in her head. The girl pulled clumsily up and fled. Her stubby legs carried her to the great doors. She strained at one’s brass handle, higher than she was tall. Slowly it crept open. It weighed a terrible burden and creaked eerily with the motion.

The woman with many eyes seemed held down by some unseen force but broke free and flipped to her feet. She glided across the room, cruel fingers outstretched.

The girl slid through the doorway to a bright light on the other side. She toppled over.

“Close the door! Close the door!” the voice yelled. She kicked it shut with a hollowed slam and fell to the ground, crying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2

“It’s okay,” the voice said to her.

The girl continued to weep, balled up like a little cat in the golden leaves. A warm breeze caressed her face, wet with tears and mucus, but she didn’t notice. She lay there, unable to take in the situation.

“It’s okay,” the voice said again, “open your eyes. You’re safe now.”

She stirred a bit and opened her overflown green eyes, wiping her face with her sleeve. Bright light flooded her pupils causing them to contract. Vines of yellow, gold and amber willow leaves clung to her clothes. Indeed, all around great willow trees swayed gently, spanning over steep mountains under a placid blue sky.

“The monster all gone?” the girl asked. She looked at the door behind her. It wasn’t the behemoth from which she entered but a short, rickety mass of planks over the trunk of a tree.

“Yes its gone. You can open the door. The monster won’t be there,” the voice told her.

She was shaking but could see there was nothing more than a small chamber through the cracks in the bistre slats. Her tiny hand tugged at a hide latch, pulling the door open. No hall. No monster. Only the small wooden hollow in the giant tree. She sniffed and wiped her nose again. Her sleeve was damp from excretion.

“Do you remember your name?” the voice asked. She shook her head.

“You’re Magie, alright? Call me Mr. Shade. I’m here to take care of you,” Mr. Shade told her.

Magie looked around but couldn’t see him. She was confused. She spun in circles until tumbling down on her behind.

“Over here,” Mr. Shade said, “I’m hiding in your shadow.”

Magie looked at a ruddy rock wall to find her shadow waving, independently from her own actions. She giggled and waved back.

“There’s that smile. You’re okay. Listen Magie, I need you to find another door. Can you do that?” Mr. Shade asked.

“No,” she frowned. Magie was feeling better but still wary of anything and everything around her. She sat on the ground and crossed her arms.

“Alright, no worries. Say why don’t we go for a little walk. It will be fun,” he urged.

“No!” Magie continued to pout.

“I’ll bet we find some cute animals. Do you like animals?” Mr. Shade asked.

Magie walked up on her hands and pushed to her feet, “bunnies?”

“Sure, why not? I’ll bet we can find all kinds of critters here in the Weeping Clogway. This whole area’s a labyrinth of wooden pipes in a forest of willows. They transport water from natural springs in these mountains. It’s been abandoned for some time. The leaves never rot but have come to clog the waterways, hence the name. Look over there you can see some now,” Mr. Shade explained.

Magie trotted over to a canal made of carved wooden half pipes. A warm stream trickled through but it was brimming with vines. Down a bit farther waterfalls from higher pipes fed it, increasing the flow. Maggie smiled and jumped in. It was steep. She slid down the pipes like a water slide.

“Magie be careful, kid!” Mr. Shade warned. Down the line the pipe ended to release the flow into a great wooden waterwheel covered in leaves. It clanked and clacked around like a rickety cart.

“Ut-oh!” Maggie said as she slid down the fall. With agility far beyond that expected for one her age she ran over the rotating planks, hopped off and splashed down in a pool below. The surface was no omission to the blanket of willow leaves covering just about everything. Magie giggled as her head popped out of the water.

“Can you swim?” Mr. Shade asked. Seeing as she could he gave a sigh of relief.

Magie doggie paddled to the edge and waded out. Her clothes were soaked but she was grinning ear to ear, “again!”

She took off running without a care to where. The mountain was steep but she could navigate the treacherous terrain surprisingly well. Willows grew strait from the rock with great winding roots poking out like snakes. It was humid and trickles of water that escaped the canals moistened the rich dirt.

They were quite high. More mountains forested in willows could be seen spanning the breath to the horizon. They too held hot springs with geysers and pipelines that converged into wide rivers in the valleys bellow. A small town could be seen beside one such river.

Magie’s gaze was distracted by a passing butterfly. She jumped at its fluttery orange and black wings weaving loops across the sky.

“What do you have there?” Mr. Shade asked.

“Danaus plexippus!” Magie shouted.

“Wow, that’s very good. Do you know what these flowers are called?” Mr. Shade pointed down.

“I don’t know,” Magie said as she stumbled through a clearing of white wildflowers.

Then a small rodent caught her eye. She chased it around a tree until it scurried away up the branches. “Baby,” she said.

“Is that chipmunk a baby?” Mr. Shade asked.

“Maybe,” Magie replied.

“Baby Maybe was a baby. Baby Maybe was one maybe. Baby Maybe was a baby, maybe?” he rhymed.

“Baby is going to the office,” Magie added, “he a patent clerk. But then bakew! Ninjas!” Magie ran in a small circle and hopped in the air.

She seemed to be having fun but stopped suddenly and sat down. Tears once again overflowed her cheeks. She clasped her arm, “owie!”

“Are you okay Magie? Here, let me see,” Magie’s shadow seemed to somehow interact with her sleeve, rolling it up. A neon pink and violet scar was revealed, burning bright and shedding fine grey ash.

“We need to find another door,” he said.

“No, bad!”

“I’ll bet I can find one faster than you,” Mr. Shade replied.

“No.”

“I’m looking. You know, I bet you can’t find one at all,” he prodded. Her shadow seemed to move across the ground and trees looking around.

Maggie climbed to her feet and took off running. A competitive girl, all her apprehension melted away and she was determined to find one first. She darted down the hill in a trail of wet footprints.

She ran past more clogged half pipes, waterwheels and broken sluice gates without a care in the world. It was indeed a labyrinth with walls of planks and dead ends packed tight of willow leaves. Mr. Shade’s plan worked too well as she barreled into unknown territory only to find she wasn’t alone.

“Ah-caw-ah-ah-ah-ah!” a tall bird called out from atop an elevated aqueduct. It stood on two long indigo legs with white feathers tipped in indigo, a long neck, black beak and red plumage on top it’s head. More importantly though, it wore a vest, cone shaped hat and quiver of stitched willow vines, and carried a bow in its wings as if they were hands.

“Ah-caw-ah-ah!” it called again.

“Labyrinth cranes. Magie I think you should hurry along,” Mr. Shade warned.

Two more cranes flapped down beside it. Their heads twisted about as they looked to Magie, each other and back again. “Ah-caw-ah-ah-ah!” they squawked.

Magie instead walked closer, hoping to make friends but halted abruptly as an arrow narrowly missed grazing her leg.

“Run!” Mr. Shade yelled as five more cranes landed on the trees and woodwork around them. They all carried bows on their backs and drew them without hesitation.

Magie hopped into a half pipe and ran down the length of it. Arrows flew behind her and embedded themselves in the wood. She stumbled over tangles of vines and gurgling streams, jumping from pipe to lower pipe. The cranes flew overhead to track her. Thankfully their wings were occupied and they seemed unable to fire arrows unless planted on the ground. More so, their attack patterns lacked planning and they appeared no brighter than to land beside her, fire and take off again.

“Caw-ah-aha-ah!”

“Are we in trouble?” Magie asked.

“Not if you can find a door. Head to that village in the valley,” Mr. Shade instructed.

Magie ran and ran out of pipes and canals. She jumped from a water spout into the river below. It was deep enough to save her the fall, thankfully, and several meters wide. Magie surfaced as wet willows clung to her face. She swam to the bank but not fast enough as a dozen or so cranes drew their bows on the footing around her. She gasped.

“Magie look out!” Mr. Shade yelled.

A barrage of arrows flew at her but were stopped as a round wooden shield miraculously formed in Magie’s hand.

“Ah-caw-ah-ah-ah?” the cranes squawked in surprise. You could hear it in their tone.

Magie pulled out of the marshy water and ran inland. Around her a small village of wooden huts two meters high crept up. The wood was the dark brown of the willows and panels were sewn together in vines.

A few dozen or so cranes seemed to occupy it. They could be seen coming and going, hoisting nets of fish, berries, or grubs. They mostly wore the same cone shaped hats but with greater variety in their stitched willow leaf clothing. Some we clothed in dresses, tunics or even capes yet none seemed to need pants. They scratched at the dirt and cooed more to be heard than understood. A great flock cast into the sky, startled, as Magie ran past.

“Open the door, okay Magie?” Mr. Shade urged.

Magie neared a short door in a hut, more of a scrap of tree bark really, but it was enough. She pulled it open and ran into the cold air of another world. A storm of arrows pierced the wood as it drew shut.

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

“No!” Magie screamed as a deep embedded and primal fear stirred in the tightness of her chest.

She’d arrived from the door of a great temple, carved of jade and emeralds, and into a field of ghostly red flowers. Their translucent, twisting petals and lindworm green stems swayed softly in no breeze. A pungent and bitter musk stung the night air.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Magie tugged at the door behind her but was horrified to find it opened only to more flowers. She slammed it and broke into a high pitched wail.

“You really don’t like this place?” Mr. Shade asked, “alright, we don’t have to stay. Open that door to your left. No, your other left.”

Magie looked right then left to find a second jade door, carved in floral patterns. The prospect of unknown scariness however burrowed a twinge deeper than that around her. She threw herself to the ground, “horrible, no!”

Mr. Shade sighed, “there’s candy through that door.”

Magie looked up. Her stomach gurgled without companionship, “really?” she asked.

“Well there’s either candy or there isn’t so you’ve got a real fifty/fifty shot, don’t you?” he replied.

A calmer or less hungry Magie might have seen through the ruse but her gushing taste buds betrayed her, “okay.”

She tugged open the cold door and walked through.

 

This time she emerged from a sad, splintered shed before an abstract clock tower. The building zigzagged up at various angles, the clock face dripped and the numbers were all wrong. Its slinking hands rotated in different directions, cast iron with rust. A look around would reveal it was one of many of such towers. Every building in the abandoned and derelict town featured similarly distorted clock faces but Magie didn’t notice. For a sweet aroma was wafting from within. She hurried up the stairs and through the front doors.

“I didn’t expect the interior of the clock tower to be like this. Assuming claims another ass, it would seem. Wait, Magie-” Mr. Shade said upon seeing the green expanse.

Magie toddled to a bush with bright pink berries hanging tantalizingly from its limbs. To her, their sweet, almost peachy scent was most welcome and she dug into them with great gusto. Syrupy pulp ran down her chin.

The building had been turned into some manner of conservatory, brimming with potted plants from a wide variety of planets. Its walls had been replaced with large windows, brimming of clouded light, although the expected cogs, gears and clockwork were still present, as abstract as the outer face. A bronze staircase ascended the tower.

“All done!” Magie smiled without a care.

“Yes I certainly hope those berries weren’t poisonous,” Mr. Shade mumbled. Even as a spirit, he had the power to affect his environment but ever as a spirit was his ability limited and taxing. He only had so much signature energy.

“It redifluva bush of Raydaytion planet. Not poi-sin you silly!” Magie laughed.

“Alright then. What’s this tree?” Mr. Shade asked.

“I don’t know,” Magie shrugged. Mr. Shade observed she had an acute, however highly selective memory. Magie continued to surprise him. He wasn’t sure what to expect when they first met and awaited what she’d become with great anticipation.

“Lets climb the stairs,” he said, “but be careful; something sinister hides in this tower. If not it wouldn’t be here.”

Magie climbed up the steps on all fours. They were steep for a child that size, or even an adult human for that matter. It didn’t help that they were of varying triangular shapes and slants either. She passed gears and weights which seemed to sag and melt out of shape yet always connected with one another.

It was tall and the tower had been divided into levels. As they ascended the plants grew more unusual. Here they formed almost machine like qualities of hard metal fibers, crystalline circuitry in the leaves and bulging yellow bulbs of bio-fuel. Some grew lenses or crystals used for processing; others even imitated specific mechanical components. All were unnatural.

Mr. Shade carefully observed them, “these plants have been genetically engineered into weapon components; I recognize this style of modification. It can’t be. Magie hide!”

Magie climbed into a bed of large sunflower like plants but with semiconductor properties. A click-clack could be heard coming down the metal stairs as a flower, upside down, walked on its amber petals like an animal. Its green leaves stemmed up into a system of white tentacle like roots with eyeballs searching the area. Magie held her breath as it passed by.

“Interesting. He’s engineered guards as well,” Mr. Shade commented with the coast clear.

“Scary,” Magie said but she climbed out of her hiding spot and continued on.

The next floor revealed an even less assuring batch of specimens. Here plants bore claws or maws with fangs and seemed to feature muscle tissue. They were hybrids of various dangerous animals from across the universe. Flowers of orange hung large bulbs under sunlamps that seemed to act as wombs. Silhouettes of developing infant creatures could be seen through their translucent petals. This seemed to concern Mr. Shade more than Magie.

“Kitty!” she squealed with delight.

“Wait Magie don’t touch-” he began but she had already begun climbing onto a counter where a green, leafy cat like creature was potted. A loud crash could be heard as she knocked the pot onto the floor from which it shattered.

“Oopsie!” Maggie said and the feline meowed back at her. It jumped gracefully, as cats do, and ran up the stairs.

“Quick Magie, follow the kitty,” Mr. Shade said.

He didn’t have to tell her twice; Magie ran after it as fast as her legs could carry her. At the top of the flight she found the cat, sitting in the middle of the floor, licking its self in rather shameful places. Magie picked it up. She seemed unaware of the clacking of petals approaching from all sides.

Mr. Shade on the other hand was painfully cognizant of the dire situation this presented. His mind raced as to what to do. He didn’t notice that Magie had begun sprouting leaves like her feline friend.

Her shadow flitted around the room. “Magie you need to hide or find another door or-” Mr. Shade paused upon returning to Magie to find her shrinking and turning green, clothes and all. Her features melted out of position and molded themselves to feline proportions. She grew a tail and her ears to points. The last to change were her eyes folding to slits and splashing golden then she had become a perfect imitation of the bushy floral feline. She meowed.

Upside down flower guards like the one from before arrived and rolled over the two cats with their many eyes. They turned and continued their rounds.

“I kitty!” Magie mewed.

“Indeed you are,” Mr. Shade said in disbelief, “keep going up the stairs okay?”

Magie wiggled her butt and jumped onto the railing. She promptly slid off and fell to the floor.

“It looks like you’ll need time to adjust to your new form,” he commented. Magie rolled to her feet and hopped up the steps.

They were nearing the top of the tower. Mr. Shade flew ahead, his shadow detached from her body. There he found a large flowering bush, several meters tall, except the crimson buds had eyes and its many vines ended in high output laser cannons. But in its massive pot rested a small crystal box that glowed from within. This was it; it must be.

“Magie this is very important. You need to stay a kitty but go and get that box. Can you do that for me?” Mr. Shade asked.

“Okay,” Magie replied. She hopped onto a shelf to the side of the room.

The bush’s eyes turned to fixate on her but its laser cannons did not move. She walked along the edge of the room, avoiding the drifting vines that weaved their way through the air. They had thorns, big red ones, and seemed to be searching for intruders. Or prey. Nearing it she found a maw overflowing with needle sharp teeth. It dripped with pungent nastiness.

Magie landed in the pot and carefully snuck around the vines. She felt its breath on her grassy fur. Tiptoeing in, she picked up the ring sized box in her mouth, carefully returned to the shelves and worked her way around to the entrance. She exited the room in a hurry.

“That went surprisingly well. Now all we need to do is find a door,” Mr. Shade said as Magie shifted back into her human form. She spit the box out into her delicate hands.

“Yay!” she cheered. A glass door could be found across the room but on her way a sweet aroma tickled her nostrils. Even more tantalizing than the previous, it came from a large aquamarine flower dripping of fruity nectar. Before Mr. Shade knew what was going on she had trotted over and dipped her hands in its honey pot like basin. Blue tendrils slowly closed on her, their sticky tips fixating on her cloak.

“Oh no,” Mr. Shade said.

Magie sipped the deliciously sweet and thick nectar from her hands but when she tried to pull away found herself quite stuck. As she struggled, rows of bell like buds jingled from the vibrations. She pulled and pulled but the more she struggled, the more entangled in the sticky sap she became.

“Bad,” Magie said as the weight of the situation began to settle upon her. The door was mere meters away but she couldn’t break free.

A dragon covered head to claws in cybernetic armor walked into the room, surely attracted by the ruckus. He walked on hind legs and stood over three meters tall, neck outstretched.

Any mystique he had was lost however as he tripped over a raised root protruding from a flowerbed. He fell face first into a clatter of saucers, spray bottled and various other equipment. Magie giggled.

He clumsily climbed to his feet and raised the rifle. That killed the moment even for one so young as Magie.

“A hatchling?” his hands shook as he took aim and she could hear him muttering under his breath. Magie struggled. Her heart raced. He waited. The automated targeting was dead on the mark, safety disengaged, full power. His clawed finger tightened around the trigger.

“Oh damn it all!” he threw the rifle to the ground, “I can’t do it. I can’t! When I signed up for this job Phallun didn’t say anything about murdering children.”

He grabbed a spray bottle and misted the plant with some foul smelling excretion, causing it to uncurl and release her. His helmet retracted revealing white scales, indigo gem like eyes and feathered ear flaps. He sank to his knees sobbing.

“Why are you crying?” Magie asked.

“Magie go to that door,” Mr. Shade said. Magie turned to walk away but her arm stung her. The glowing scar had grown and grown more volatile.

“Magie open the box, kiddo,” Mr. Shade said. She did to find a shining golden spark of light. It levitated out of the box and ignited into flames which swirled around her. Warm and bright they didn’t burn but enveloped her all the same in a great shining chrysalis. When they crackled away Magie had grown to a child of six years old; a little taller and less chubby but still the bright eyed, rosy cheeked girl as before. The scar on her arm had stopped glowing and shrunk to a slit. Magie smiled.

“Time to head through the door,” Mr. Shade said.

“Will there be candy?” Magie asked.

“Well there wasn’t candy here so you have an even better chance of it being through the next door, haven’t you?” Mr. Shade replied but before he left, the shadow slid over to the dragon, “I’d seek out and join the resistance if I were you; Phallun doesn’t accept failure kindly.”

The dragon looked up from his sobbing, “who are you?”

“Just a friend,” Mr. Shade replied.

“Oh Alouve!” the white dragon continued to moan.

“Why’s he crying?” Magie asked.

“He’s lost his love. Like anyone, that’s why he was working for Phallun. Phallun has the power to bring dead back from the ghate,” Mr. Shade said.

“Who’s Phallun?” Magie asked as she walked through the door.

“A very bad man.”

 

Elsewhere soon after in a far away and crooked castle the blood king took his throne. Phallun, a demon by what anyone could piece together, he stood tall while standing but disliked the effort associated with doing so. Currently he slouched in an overly extravagant, bejeweled throne that said to anyone with any thought process that he was indeed the boss.

An odd creature, Phallun was covered head to toes in mismatched articles of clothing. One horn atop his head was capped by a gardening glove and the other a top hat at a jaunty angle. On his left eye was found a patch with a sun insignia and over his right draped mechanical goggles. A royal red scarf wrapped around anything he had of a nose and mouth, smartly so the tasseled ends hung both over his left shoulder. He had the figure of a tall and well built man except with four arms and that was mostly enclosed in a burgundy trench coat. Only one arm occupied the sleeves however as the others were wrapped in beige cloth and covered in many valuable watches, bracelets and bandannas. All his hands were gloved, mismatching, with two or three rings. He wore plush fur pants and one brown boot and the other black on either of his feet. Both were laced fully to his knees.

He sat there, in the great war room, blanketed in three dimensional maps of various places across the universe. Growing impatient, he did not like to be kept waiting and subsequently never was for any length of time by the life of anyone brave enough to occupy his time. A gold goblet of blood sloshed around in his hand while the others wrapped upon the armrests. He despised the inconvenience of these briefings but did request them on the grounds that everybody else was incompetent.

Not daring to waste a second longer, a woman of stony bluish grey skin walked swiftly in. Isiren. She had black hair up in a ponytail and was otherwise unremarkable except the mouth on her face was missing. Instead the words came from dark red lips painted on a black and red checkered boa, hanging loosely over her shoulders.

“Good evening lord Phallun. I trust you are well?” she asked. Her voice flowed smooth and sweet but with great power behind it.

“Have you found her yet?” Phallun asked in return.

“No.”

“Then no, I am not well. Push the seekers harder. Double the nightmares. Let no one rest and leave no survivors until she is safely by my side! I will write the greatest love story ever told and ink it in the blood of the cosmos,” he raged. There was something about his voice, only moderately deep but commanding to suit a god. It rang true as one more reminder that he was in control.

“Yes lord. As for the state of affairs: the humans and dragons have formed an uneasy alliance in response to the aggression of our forces. This is most unfortunate considering the bitter nature of their relations since the harvest of First Drako. Without Sealveybreon’s leadership this was unlikely to happen. Naturally the Whittitteron have also sided with Drako and the Raydaytion seem to be leaning this way as well,” Isiren reported.

“The Raydaytion respect one thing alone: power. And I have it. Soon they will become amicable to our cause,” Phallun commented.

She continued, “as you are aware, Sypter and Luvega have created an allied front against us in the pocket dimension of TriCora. They have come in contact with our enemies from the core universe of Rainbow’s Wane. This credits the work of the resistance admiral. She does her job well; more small factions are joining their cause every day. It seems you have successfully waged war on the entire universe.”

“Their forces are finite. Ours are infinite. You do the math siren,” Phallun took a sip from his goblet through the cracks in his clothing.

“That is true; we’ve successfully overwhelmed all opposition to this point and our operations continue on schedule. Half of TriCora is under our control and we are steadily destroying each line of defense in the Second Drako system. The enemy has yet to take any significant holding in Evnyance.

One issue has arisen; our spies report the girl managed to collect the Allagone Clockworks’ housed shard. That’s another missing. We don’t know how but she seems able to track your vaults with concerning accuracy. The keeper has disappeared without a trace,” Isiren said.

“I knew that cur was worthless. Weaver!” Phallun shouted and slammed his fist on the armrest.

The woman with seven eyes appeared in a swirl of black smoke before him, “you called?”

“The girl you let escape has been busy. I want this issue dealt with and dealt with now. As you spin your web make hunting her a priority,” Phallun ordered.

“Ah yes, the insignificant, powerless, small child,” the Weaver mused.

“That child will be the ruin of both of us! Kill her! Kill her now; I don’t wish to hear another word of it,” Phallun bellowed.

“Whatever. Fine, fine. Don’t forget: I’m the one who killed the great Sayth. This matter’s a trifle. Your wish is my command,” the Weaver replied and vanished as swiftly as she came.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4

“Welcome to the Veilands,” Mr. Shade announced as Magie brushed aside a cloth rug hanging over an entryway.

“It’s so soft,” she remarked.

They found themselves under a sky of sky blue, navy and indigo patchwork. The clouds looked like cotton. Today the sun shown bright and a brisk breeze bustled through the thoroughfare. It was a busy street, paved in various plush rugs of different colors and designs. Although, like the sky, shades of blue and violet seemed to dominate the pallet.

Shops lined the streets. The buildings were composed of wooden scaffolding draped on all sides by curtains and fabric. Some climbed several stories tall while others merely met the ground. Tents and domes topped many and a plethora of flags were flown on polls all around.

Magie stumbled back just in time to dodge an oncoming cart. It was loaded with spiky fruits and hauled by a fuzzy brown beast of burden. A rag doll man sat at the reigns. He seemed not to notice.

As swiftly as he came, the man was carried away by the river of traffic. Carts, hover cars, wagons, beasts and hauls of every conceivable commodity rushed past. A rich variety of wealth and poverty, modern and outdated technology, and different races. Such was the demeanor of this surrealistic land.

Magie climbed on the back of one such wagon. It was covered by a blue tent. From inside she could hear a radio playing a song:

“Cone, cast down, piled high with strawberry, cookie dough and whipped cream; top on high, the fudge comes down: it’s something from a dream!”

“Aha, a song about ice cream,” Magie squealed.

“I believe it’s actually metaphoric for the rise of AI slowly killing independent artists and the workforce in the late twenty first century. ...Or maybe it is about ice cream and I’m overthinking it,” Mr. Shade said.

“I’d like some ice cream!” Magie grinned.

“You just had all that sweet fruit and nectar,” Mr. Shade remarked.

“But that was so long ago,” she moaned. After all, she’d grown two years since then.

“Wait, get off here,” Mr. Shade said. Magie hopped down. She found herself in a market of sorts.

Magie was delighted yet overwhelmed at the crowd. She wanted to see everything and touch everything with her sticky fingers to the dismay of merchants everywhere. They rushed to pack away their carts at the sight of her.

“Magie why don’t you wash up at that fountain over there?” Mr. Shade suggested.

“Wait, I remember a spell. It wasn’t there before,” Magie threw her hands in the air and sparks of light flew up like confetti. Where they rained down the sticky sap and wetness of her clothes were washed away.

“That’s very useful but let’s keep that kind of thing secret alright?” he said. A small crowd had stopped to stare at the child with magic fingertips. Magie blushed. She ran around the corner to get lost in the commotion.

“Mr. Shade, where’s Fabel?” Magie asked.

“Fabel? I don’t know Magie. We’ll keep an eye out for him,” he replied without a clue to whom she referred.

Magie walked along the crowded sidewalk. The passers by seemed not to care she was a child walking alone with no parents as most of them weren’t human to recognize the oddity of it. The majority of citizens appeared as rag dolls, with stitches, button eyes and sewn of fabric. They trotted along, more prone to wiggling and bending but walked upright in hats and coats as any people would. Again they favored a blueish color scheme.

A few other races were present, some made of stone and a pair of insect like Raydaytion had gotten into a brawl. Magie slipped by as they clawed each other to bits. This was not uncommon of Raydaytion and people in the streets did well to steer clear of their hotheadedness.

“Ooo!” Magie eyed a stand displaying bracelets and charms. Mr. Shade was lost in thought. He had an agenda here, like anywhere, and wondered what resistance awaited. The city could hardly be called a friendly place but not particularly dangerous at the moment. The moment being this and this alone as that could change in a whisper or a sneeze. They were in Phallun’s kingdom of waking dreams after all. Ironically his pause for caution was what lead to trouble in the first place.

“Thief!” the portly merchant yelled as Magie had taken a silver bracelet off the stand and tried it on. Startled, she took off running.

“Damn it. Magie you have to turn around a return the bracelet. Tell him this was all a misunderstanding,” Mr. Shade advised.

“No, I can’t,” Magie cried. She flipped off a flag poll and landed on a near by tent. From there Magie hopped from roof to roof. They bounced her along like trampolines.

“You have to-” Mr. Shade was interrupted as a line of burning thread singed the fabric railing beside her. “Nevermind.”

Magie jumped across a street and continued running. A long string of flags hung from one of the taller buildings. She scaled it, balancing like a tightrope. Below guards with navy blue crocheted trench coats climbed onto the roofs with grapples and rope ladders. They worn turban style hats and carried yarn guns. Their raggedy cloth bodies were light and well suited to climbing.

“Turn left here; the side with the bracelet. Left again. Short right, now left,” Mr. Shade instructed as Magie ran.

“Where are we going?” Magie asked at the confusing directions that didn’t follow any logical rout.

“This city holds many secrets. It was build over ancient ruins. To access them we must trace the pattern of a mandala, which covers the entirety of it,” he explained and thought to himself ‘assuming Dusk’s intelligence was correct.’

The course sent Magie through an open window and the dwelling within. She ran over a table, clanking off hanging wooden spoons, startling the residents to unravel, and out the window across the room. She jumped down an alley and turned onto another busy street.

“Are they still chasing me?” Magie asked, stopping to catch her breath.

“No but keep going. You’ve drawn the ire of something far worse I’m afraid,” Mr. Shade warned. Magie glanced around nervously.

A dead eyed blue bird flew overhead and landed on the sidewalk. It coughed and hacked in a horrible display. Black shadows poured out of its mouth and formed a second, crocodile like mouth much larger the tiny bird its self. It snapped at her with needle sharp shadowy teeth.

“What’s that?!” Magie jumped at the sight.

“A nightmare.”

She took off running again, faster than before. She didn’t wish to find out more. They had entered some sort of business district and the buildings stretched taller here. Most cylindrical and covered in patches and fabric, Mr. Shade wondered how they’d fare in the wind. There weren’t windows but balconies, many balconies. Every building seemed to have several. Magie scaled a wall up to one and darted inside.

It was a workshop, something to do with sewing and fabric, appropriately. Massive spools, sewing wheels and other wooden contraptions occupied the chamber. In piles around the room plush animals could be found.

“Magie, look out!”

She had lost the bird but more shadows crept in the cracks. They flowed into plush toys and animated them with dark claws poking through the stitching. A teddy bear was dragged along like a corpse by hands protruding from its neck. One grabbed Magie’s leg.

“Eeee!” she screamed and kicked it away. The plush animals surrounded her. Rabbits of yellow with long tails, unicorns, lions and other whimsical beasts. Tears opened in them to reveal sharp fanged shadowy mouths, multiple on the same body. They lunged at her. Magie dodged, climbed up the fabric wall and through a slit in the ceiling.

Mr. Shade continued to give directions, “jump out that window, make a right and through that street.”

“It’s scary,” Magie said.

“You can do it; just a little farther. Be warned though. Another shard awaits us and with it another shard keeper will guard it with their life.”

Magie tore off a flag and used it to slid down a rope like a zip line. People in the streets stopped and pointed. More nightmares were hot on her trail, quilted hoods floating like ghosts. Magie continued to run and leap about unaware that high above the city glowing lines she traced were creating an intricate pattern of shapes and looping tessellations. She was nearly finished.

“Turn left and there! Through that door,” Mr. Shade yelled. A giant double door of orange light had appeared, elegantly decorated in patterns resembling the mandala. Magie grabbed the handle, surprised to find it was stone cold to the touch. She swung it open and ran in. It closed behind her with a mighty clank and disappeared from the city.

 

They found themselves in darkness, black and pitch, with no aim to gain bearing but the cool, wooden floor. Magie’s feet tapped upon it with deep echoes to each step. Tap, tap, tap, tap… She turned to look around only to find more darkness to the rear. An unearthly silence followed and it flowed into the night, so much so that Magie could ferry it no longer.

“Hello?” she cried against her better judgment. “Hello-hello-hello…” Only to be met with her echo. Then more silence, until-

“Now, good people, I can and I must, for it is with greatest honor and fondest pleasure that I present the lady of the hour!” a voice rang out with a crack of almost blinding light. It grew in sweeps with the parting of enormous violet curtains. Magie shielded her eyes to the reveal as waves of applause bombarded her other senses.

“We’re on a stage,” Mr. Shade observed. “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

The light narrowed into a spotlight cast strait onto Magie. She squinted to see the audience but found them veiled in the before met shadow.

“But what is this devilry? Doth my eyes deceive for before me stands a child? A child! One of innocence and purity, pure and innocent. Oh woes. Tis not the sorceress for whom I had planed for. For whom I had schemed for! Yes a death I schemed most befoul, most wretched, most, dare I say iconic?

And yet it is she it must befall! Yes, a death of the ages, a rhyme throughout history, a ring through the course of literature and poetry. It must be she and she must die for I, Polonius Phantom tonight present my greatest work! Bear witness, good people, as I gift you a death for which you will never forget!” Polonius Phantom (apparently) proclaimed.

“Someone relishes the sound of his own voice,” Mr. Shade commented.

“Who else could that be?” Magie rolled her eyes.

A caped figure levitated down from somewhere in the rafters. Magie could only see him from behind as he faced the audience but observed a red velvet cloak, embroidered with silver and gold. Upon his head he wore a white mask, half twisted into a fiendish smile and the other half a ghastly frown. Magie could see this because he had no head and the mask floated where his face would be. She tried to approach him but found her feet encased in ice.

A sudden and baleful blizzard sprang upon the stage. Fonts of snow rolled over the theater, washing it white and piling high. Soon it touched Magie’s knees and the building had been replaced by a winter’s beach, stinging cold with crashing waves. She shivered at this development.

Polonius continued to address the ocean as if the audience were still there, “allow for me to set the scene: the year is of our lord 1305, a wrathful, wicked time as rages all across Evnyance like rabid nightwolves the blood war. Here tucked akin, first child of the Veilands, her royal heiress Pleaseus has journeyed north to Aisenbloom to wed Fifelr, prince of Chained. For their union is merely not of love but peace alike. Peace for clan and country, two and true. But alas, she is to find their arrival as bitter as the coastal winter from where she has met.”

Black armor sewn of metal fibers and an indigo cape appeared on Magie’s childish frame and atop her head a crown. Out from the blizzard walked a party of ragpeople, humans and dragons, dressed warm in furs and hoisting long torches over their shoulders. They too wore indigo cloaks, even the hot blooded dragons. The humans had skin of both pink and brown tones on the same body, separated by shapes and patterns as birthmarks. A TriCoran trait.

A young woman, also in armor with a crescent moon over her left eye, tread up to Magie.

“My lady, overjoyed you must be for on the morrow sails fair Fifelr. A love you have shared since mere babes, when met each summer you did to climb upon the alventrees, dance the brook and make marry til night come in his castle by the sea. I say this not coyly for long have we been friends, as I your maid, your confidant, have ever pledged my service on to thee,” she said almost in limerick.

“I like puppies!” Magie replied.

“Yeah, this is one of those tragedy plays. My date dragged me to one. Can’t remember much of it though; I was distracted checking my cell link. Damn. I knew that would come back to haunt me,” Mr. Shade remarked.

The young woman continued, her face suddenly twisted in grief, “yet my heart is froze for what it may entail. With this union wed will lead surely to the end of the Veil’s part in the war. To abandon an act of king and country after such frightful atrocities, it is sin. Pure as this evensnow on eventide, untainted, should it be stained would our part in it be so? And as such would so be it that blood is shed but shed as not an act of malice but retribution? A cause just alike in not sin but necessity? So I must ask thee again, with this at the forefront of your mind, will you go through with it?”

“If you’re cold you should put on a sweater,” Magie said.

The landscape faded slightly, so that curtains and the stage could be seen translucent through it. The actors appeared as wooden marionettes on strings and the stage lights shown where the sun had been.

“No! The maiden is not cold! Can you not see? Tis subtext! The chill of winter is a metaphor for the air of betrayal. That she, on her very wedding day should be betrayed by her closest of compatriots! And it tis not “one of those plays”! Tis “A Aisenbloom’s Eve” by the minstrel himself. The most famous historical tragedy in Evnyance literature!” Polonius turned to scold Magie and Mr. Shade. He wore fine silks with puffy shoulders and pants.

Mr. Shade noticed Polonius Phantom’s control over all that occurred in the theater was linked to his concentration. Like any good director, he must have spent months preparing for this event and desired it to go to plan.

“Oh, skip ahead,” Polonius ordered. The winter lands became solid again but in time-lapse. Snow shot by, players sped along in action, the sun swiftly set and rose to the dawning of the following day when ships appeared on the horizon. Then the world returned to normal speed.

Horns blared and flags were flown high. Three wooden ships, carved in the shapes of sea beasts, as true to the era, docked on the shore. Ramps were lowered and soldiers in iron armor wrapped with chains strode forth carrying banners with images of crossed chains.

A mustached man clothed in black in the finest fabrics of weave followed them. His head donned a silver crown and servants and soldiers alike knelt as he passed. Upon seeing Magie, or what character she represented, he ran to and took her hand with a kiss from which she tugged away.

“Pleaseus, my love, my bride. These past moons have been swept in nights fraught with tears. To say the cock doth not crow, nor bells chime, nor bait of breath be sweet of wine upon thine absence tis but a glimpse of my sorrow. A sorrow for thy touch, thy kiss. A yearning true and tuned into all but my most desperate sorrow and for thy touch tis sorrow. My love for I cannot bear another moment without thy sweet embrace!” he said, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her close.

Magie wrenched away and stepped back, “eww gross. You’re yucky.”

“My love, I love thee so. Doubt it not and never for what may come. Love thee I always have and it has grown as I have grown, as you, as we for we are forever more.

And yet my hands are chilled and numb to thy tender skin. I beg thee, think not my tongue a frigid slab of meat for what I must divulge unto you, your country and all in this damned-able war. For I am a son of the chained kingdom and to my hearth, my fruit, my homeland, my heart holds true. That I may act a devil, a scourge and it tis my father’s will that you and I are never meant to be.

Oh wicked burden. Oh deed befouled and most foul I must act for my country and self alone. My heart is split in twain aye, but love is so brittle, so crystalline a thing. That it might fall and shatter on the cold, hard rock and unto a thousand pieces be cleft. That I, Prince Fifelr XIV be that rock, that ice. Never have I been more lamenting for what I must do. Seize her,” the prince commanded and Magie’s own servant clasp her arms behind her and forced her to her knees.

“You suck!” Magie cried.

“Now by my knife, this instrument of shame and deception. That I would deceive you my love and with it end your life. A parting, a last. Oh dreadful sorrow but it must be done. For king and country it is that thy blood falls upon the gentle snow,” Fifelr produced a jagged black knife from his boot and held it in both hands.

“This play is boring. Plays should have fireworks and puppies,” Magie said.

“How would you change it Magie?” Mr. Shade asked.

“First it needs a water slide,” said Magie.

“A water slide?!” Polonius exclaimed aghast. The world blurred a bit at his unbridled emotion.

“Yes a water slide,” she repeated. “And balloons. Big yellow ones over there and there. And instead of these knights, an army of puppies! And ninjas!”

“Puppies and ninjas, you nit! You foolish child! Do thee not realize this an historical piece? Thy actors and parts t’were those of real people. They lived and breathed as you and I. They had not ninjas nor balloons!” Polonius stomped. The world of the stage came into focus and they found themselves back in the theater.

“Well they should of,” said Magie. Polonius continued to argue back and forth with her.

Mr. Shade detached his shadow self from her and surveyed the theater. It was very large and lushly extravagant, much like Polonius himself. Backstage there were ropes and pulleys, sandbags and everything expected of such an environment. But what interested him most was a pair of shears with the same signature energy as Polonius’ illusions.

He levitated them to Magie, “Magie catch!”

She broke free of what was now the wooden puppet’s grasp and cut its strings. It collapsed into a heap on the floor.

“What has thee done?” Polonius wailed. “Stop her! Stop this impertinent display now!”

The puppets became actors again and attempted to attack Magie but she jumped off them and one by one cut their strings. They fell again as inanimate wood heaps. More and more tried to stop her as the play contained a broad cast of extras.

Magie snagged one’s strings and pulled it upright. “And now an army of puppies!” she yelled. It transformed into a panting little dog, the first of many. As she commandeered puppets, puppies followed. Soon the actors were battling a battalion of them.

“A thousand curses on these hounds!” Fifelr cried as a wave of puppies, dressed as ninjas, knocked him over and licked his face.

“And then, and then, Princess Elephant came and crushed him with her butt,” Magie said as a puppet transformed into a purple elephant and sat on Fifelr.

“Is this the end of Prince Fifelr?!” he gasped dramatically.

“Not Princess Elephant!” Polonius hollered as he battled a rising tide of puppies. The audience cheered and rang out with laughter to his great dismay, “no my play tis not a comedy; it tis the greatest tragedy ever written!”

“Then they all got sucked in Princess Elephant’s nose,” Magie proclaimed. With a mighty gust of wind the stage transformed into a long, hairy, purple trunk. Polonius was drenched in snot.

“Enough!” he shouted at the top of his lungs causing the entire ridiculous scene to pause and stare at him. “Enough, enough, I can take it no more! Begone with you! I give up! I will not suffer another affront, another ignominy on this hallowed theater! Get out!”

“We came for the shard,” Mr. Shade said.

From under his cloak, like a magic trick, Polonius Phantom produced a crystal box, glowing of inner light. He handed it to Magie. “Now go! I don’t care if I have to live out my life in exile; I cannot take but one more moment of this. Go! And never shall thy return!”

Magie opened the box and again was engulfed in golden light. Once faded, she had grown another two years and a few inches taller. Her clothes had grown too and black boots on her feet. Mr. Shade opened a side door for her and she walked out of the theater, causing the animals to revert to puppets on the floor. Polonius buried his mask in his hand as applause erupted from the audience.