《Purpose; Nothing (Dark Fantasy Progression Apocalypse)》


 Arc 1.0 [On Cotton Wool]

    No gods drew breath, and he walked in the hall of their bloating corpses.


    For when he expected a war to break out, the King found apathy. The angels of the gate had given in to his many humors, the generals of his army of which stood victorious in their rush, and all the King could see was their lack of struggle. It was unexpected, to say the least, and annoying in all the little things that such weakness stood for. Years of war, of waiting and empowering his army, wasted on such meager strength, and he knew they would¡¯ve been dead for some time, the angels who moved with mechanical motions, and the God¡¯s that lay lifeless. It had been a ruse that had held for far too long, and he was the fool that fell for it. His gaze fall to one long table of Gods as he walked.


    One bloated corpse, a man the size of an elephant, with tattoo¡¯s encompassing a body once made of rock-like muscle, carved from stones of time immemorial, had soiled himself, and rotted, and the king wrinkled his nose at the indignity. The God of the Sun, of fire and of metal, dead in such a quiet way. The King had been promised war by his father before, and neither could¡¯ve expected this outcome.


    The God of Ashes and Glory lay dead beside his table, and with him so many other Gods. The God of Victory and Bloodshed, face down and nearly mummified. The Great Riddler, the shape of a Sphinx larger than his castle was tall, sat as a skeleton in the far distance of the heavenly halls. It had once been shone with golden light, he noted, remembering his great grandfathers texts.


    Now the hall rest with the dim glow of blue mana, and each corpse radiated black with the stench of death, still powerful in their rotting.


    The King walked with his entourage, the humors, more generals, some of the tribesman from across his domain, and each fell in silent step of awe as they approached the golden throne. Some drug angels by their wings, burned and charred figures, previously dismorphed from starvation and weakness, a feeble defense to the great army that churned outside with roaring applause of a victory they ill deserved. The King found his frown deepening, as he stopped before the stairs that ascended to that lofty throne.


    The building was a hall, filled with tables longer than his army was wide. Many gods had once sat at the wood carved from the great world tree. The ground was made of gold, as were the pillars that held up with marble ceilings, carved with the history of magic and man, of demon and god. It was a fortune waiting to be pillaged, one that paled the Kings own treasury.


    Already he noted that he would not let it be pillaged. No mortal creature would come in contact with this room, let alone the corpses, and not one other would get to gaze on that throne that he now glared towards, nostrils flaring with the expectation of more, with the want of more.


    It was a chair that was ill fit for the small, starved figure that lay across it. She may have once been beautiful, he noted, but he knew not of her. It was a figure that wasn¡¯t written about in texts, certainly not his great other that should have sat in the throne that matched his stature, and dwarfed even the King before it, and the woman who sat there was not him, and not worthy. His chin rose a fraction, then rose inches more, and he glared down at her despite the stairs lending her an advantage of height.


    ¡°Mammon, I presume? You¡¯ve come too late I¡¯m afraid.¡± The woman spoke. Her voice was fragile, small, almost drowned out by the silence of the lofty chambers, the echo offering little to fight against the sound of silent death, the buzz in the ears of the bad King. She called him Mammon, and she was not wrong. It was one of many words he had come to be called, the nameless bad King holding not one of his own. His lips parted at the indignity of such a feeble thing speaking even one of his hundreds of names.


    ¡°What has happened here, woman? I came expecting my final confrontation, the battle to end all battles, the end of the reign of gods, and I¡¯ve found that they¡¯ve taken the reigns from themselves. Was it a mass suicide? Were you to blame?¡± Mammon spoke, and his baritone voice shook the room. Augmented, and blazed with mana, thrust out for all to hear, as if he could stir the many corpses of the God¡¯s to wake, and also so his army could hear with full transparency the disappointment on the edge of his tone. He was fury incarnate, and he had no place to direct that rage, but for the woman who defiantly stared down at him.


    ¡°No dear Mammon, they simply¡­. Expired. As all things want, they found their end, they each fell slowly but surely and I am what¡¯s left. A servant, to impart their last words, and when you leave I will be dead as well. You will find no battle here. In a sense, you have won.¡± She spoke, and it was with no enthusiasm. He sensed no lies to her words, and noted that she was not the glory of a god, truly mere servant left to impart the will of what remained, in all of her plain vainglory and the natural impertinence of mankind that enabled her to sit upon that throne.


    Disappointment was a word that was becoming a part of him in these moments. Yet in his mismanaged anger, the bad King did catch her words, and turned his head to look to the dead gods at one row to his right. The god of great mischief, the god of calamity, the god of rivers and wards, and the god of growth and decay. All lay in various states of decay, and the King wondered why they died in such a fashion, why not anywhere else. He assumed it was meant for him to see, to understand the gravity of what was to come next, yet that didn¡¯t feel quite right, it felt more as if they were mocking him.


    ¡°In a sense, I have won? In all senses it seems I have won, the few that aren¡¯t here can¡¯t stand against me any longer. What more can they do? What can you do? Is this a glorious trap? Are you a Necromancer of some renown, that will raise these corpses for one final failure?¡± His voice hitched, and it was with the edge of preparation, as he found himself lying. He knew it was not the answer. No Necromancer could raise one of the lesser gods, let alone the full pantheon in even a fraction of its actual glory and strength.


    She shook her head for not the first or last time today.


    ¡°Then what, woman?! What is this charade?!¡± The King roared, and his escorts flinched. Generals and Humors could all join forces, and still stand little chance to defeat him as he was now. He had prepared, gathered his mana, saved his power, let it grown and fester, and in the way the angels were dismorphed, he too was as well. Silver hair flowed across his form, longer than ever before, like a fine silk, each hair glowing with displaced power. His eyes, black where the woman¡¯s were white, and irises red and without pupils, burned like the embers of the dying torches among the hall, offering more light than the feeble flames did in the blue mist of the mana that flowed through the air. Remnants of power, with no room to escape. He¡¯d grown four feet on top of what he normally was, leaving him a towering eleven, and his muscles had filled out to match, bristling and knotted with a strength to battle armies, or in this case gods, failures that were now dead.


    In the moments before war, that mana had also formed his crown, a gnarled branch of horns that wrapped around the entirety of the King¡¯s head, wings that were not unlike that of a bats, folded back to rest around his shoulders and arms like a cloak, accompanied by a large draconic tail that now thrashed angrily on the ground. His body had naturally fitted itself to offer him any edge it could, a constant evolution, against the divine.


    Fitted in his finest armors, and at the peak of his possible power, his fury had no target.


    ¡°It¡¯s your end.¡± She spoke, and her mood changed, and his changed to match. The woman rose, weak from sitting for so long on the throne, and gestured into the empty air. ¡°You will invade the Human world now that we cannot stop you. No heroes remain there, as you know¡­. Any artifact that once held power is now on display for gawking children, gathering dust, buried underground, or destroyed. You will receive your prized planet, and for that you should be grateful. If you can manage.¡± Her words spoke clear as she descended the steps. The woman was no larger than five feet, he noticed, as malnourished as any angel had been on their approach, and only a step removed from the death that had claimed the God¡¯.


    ¡°If I can manage?¡± He asked. The King knew better. His father had been a man to gloat and to give long speeches. He liked his long speeches as well. Yet he did not fall for the vice of arrogance, and would hear the woman out, as if there was a trap laid he would prevent it, yet could not foresee the trap on his own.


    ¡°When you invade, they¡¯ll grow strong.¡± She gestured, and his frown deepened. For moments he took in the scenery, ignoring the scoffing of his fellow men, and only the humors among them didn¡¯t laugh. ¡°Open your eyes, look closely. You can find the problem, and it¡¯s one you can¡¯t solve.¡± The footsteps of the servant stopped before him, and he towered above her, his gaze on the blue mist in the air, and the black glow of death.


    Then he smiled. The servant flinched at the horrible smile, his lips stretching across too white pointed teeth, with no real joy to be found on his warping features. The King roared in laughter, as he turned back to glower down at her with that smile of too many fangs, bringing her blood to a chill.


    ¡°The God¡¯s died, this mist is their magic, that glow is their resignation, and the moment I open the gate between worlds, this mana will flow¡­. They¡¯re returning power to the people. It¡¯s such a last ditch effort plan that it will never work¡­. Maybe if they had given this power to you, you could¡¯ve have defeated me, but spreading it onto the masses?¡± The bad King spoke, and as he did so he raised a hand to grab the head of the woman, able to more than wrap full digits around with the scaled and armored hand. Screams were muffled in that palm, as he squeezed. ¡°They will not know what to do with it.¡±


    Lifting the servant by the head, the King carried her up the stairs. Clawed feet thudded, and crushed the golden steps beneath them with each furious quaking stomp. Thrown to the seat, the woman was spared much to her horror, his creeping smile spreading larger and larger until it seemed ear to ear, each moment destroying the humanoid features that were his mask.


    ¡°Flegmat, chain her to her chair, and ensure that she doesn¡¯t die. The gods were so bold, that they postponed our war¡­. Our battle is now with mankind, and we will eradicate them before they get a foothold. You will make sure she lives, and watches, a final witness to my strength.¡± The bad King spoke to the humor now, ignoring the presence of the woman.


    Flegmat of the dark continent, a scientist of much renown, able to turn an army of demons into a glorious dragon of corpses. He was a mad man, but he was only a threat when he didn¡¯t have work, and he would have his work. First on the servant of God, then on the forces of man. He was an ugly thing, with ears too large that drooped over his shoulders, a nose that was long at the start and far too fat at the tip, and it too drooped. He was skinny, malnourished, a good fit for a Gluttony should the King lose his somehow, and his greasy green hair perpetually covered a face heavy with bags of flesh that caught in occasional breezes.


    Disgusting. The King liked that.


    ¡°Chain her down, feeding tubes, glue her eyes open, make sure she cannot sleep¡­. Have fun with this one, in fact, then make chimera¡¯s from the angels to guard her. I want to ensure she see¡¯s what¡¯s to come.¡± The King turned, and walked past his parted group of generals, each one saluting him as he set forward towards the exit, to speak to his roaring army. They¡¯d heard all he said, and knew a hunt was beginning.


    Tomorrow he intended to end a world, and with its end a new one would begin.


    <hr>


    His breath fogged the air, as he heaved from his perch. The distant golden skies had stopped glowing, their limits tested and taken to their forgone conclusion. No Gods, no Angels, sealed with only one left entombed inside. Flegmat had done his job, the king assumed, as he always did, and would always do. Disastisfaction still rocked him, yet he was waiting for one final showdown. There were more left.


    God¡¯s.


    Angel¡¯s.


    Heroes.


    Humans.


    The world hadn¡¯t lost such things entirely, even if he tried to remove them. The pantheon was without a few key members, he had noted, yet he doubted they would stage a play. In truth, he doubted anyone ever would again in this world, or the next.


    Digits curled around the banister as the ritual below continued.


    The center of his castle was large, and round, with towers and strained geometry encircling the entirety of the perimeter, giving it more of an oval shape. It gave the mage¡¯s plenty of room to work. Light projected from towers, ensconced in barriers of magic, and wreathed in mana pulled from their crumbling world. The overhead moon offered it too, providing it succor, but it was crumbling as well, and soon the night sky would be empty as the chunks fell to their planet to burn up. Maybe a cult would form around the moon rock that surevived, retaining some mana.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Maybe it wouldn¡¯t. Maybe nothing would ever happen on this planet again, its due date rushing forward, an inevitable conclusion. Too many people to save. Too many he didn¡¯t care to save.


    ¡°The next garden will be more beautiful than the last.¡± He spoke to no-one, but expected a reply none-the-less. The man turned, and stared to the armor in his chambers. Befitting shawls of silk and fabrics draped across the room, a veritable fort of soft cushion and pillows and luxuries that the king never sought for. His wife enjoyed them. She was like the moon now, too. Dead.


    The armor was his only company. Silver and gunmetal clashed on the suit, never quite mixing, with draped golden and white fabrics across many layers of the metal chassis. It wasn¡¯t his armor, too small. It¡¯d never fit. It was his trophy, another thing he won by running out the clock. Only the sword was missing, as was the corpse.


    ¡°Old friend, your world will be our new home. Maybe my offspring will destroy it too, maybe it¡¯ll reach this conclusion as well. Maybe all worlds are destined to reach this fate, sooner or later. Human¡¯s destroying themselves, Angels destroying themselves. Demon¡¯s, and God¡¯s, too. Your kind will not take this beating lightly, but they¡¯re so woefully unprepared, and that¡¯s fault.¡± The King spoke, voice soft and no longer ragged from the strain of maintaining his form.


    The clink at his balcony alerted him.


    He turned, and banished the fine silks he wore as clothing, donned in armors once more. The God¡¯s weren¡¯t all dead, and neither were the Human¡¯s of this world. One of both halves stood before him. The red hair and blue eyes pierced him to the core, the man of lightly bronzed skin. He didn¡¯t come in armor, a disadvantage, and the king grinned, stretching his features across his face. The only metal he wore was the supporting metal on his boots, and pads on his knee¡¯s.


    ¡°Your Matriarch sends you once more. How did she not fall, like the other God¡¯s?¡± The King spoke, and stepped across the room to his personal bar. He didn¡¯t intend to drink, but would pour the shirtless Knight one better. The scar along the chest of the Knight reminded him of their last encounter. His fingers curled around a glass, the best he had, and poured a drink better.


    ¡°She has other ways of renewing herself, as you¡¯d know Mammon.¡± The Knight spoke, and rose to his full height. Six and a half feet, the King noted. Taller than before. They¡¯d been training, but it didn¡¯t much matter. He let go of the glass, and it floated to the knight, who took it and nodded thanks. Pleasantries before the fight.


    ¡°So she does. As long as you fools continue to worship her, she¡¯ll be forever young. She¡¯d see this planet crumble, then?¡± He spoke, and eyed the Knight as he sipped the liquor. No such cheap tricks as poisons, the King could win this alone.


    The Knight shrugged.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know her workings, her grace is everlasting, and her knowledge infinite.¡±


    ¡°Graceful enough to send a man to die.¡±


    ¡°Knowledgeable enough to know he won¡¯t.¡± The Knight shot back.


    The King laughed, and then roared as he did so. That alone caused him to change his mind, and to pour a drink for himself, which he sipped more heavily than his combatant, the knight made would-be assassin. ¡°The ritual will be done in a matter of hours. You brought an army?¡±


    ¡°Just myself.¡± The Knight spoke, and his hand reached into the air. Through invisible matter it seemed to grasp, until it drew one of the few relics that could truly hurt the King. He eyed it with renewed amusement. The flaming sword, a long straight blade that was too thin, too brittle looking, with a simple cheap handle of long since shredded cloth, and a circular cross-guard. It was nothing special, until activated.


    And it was activated.


    The entirety of the blade turned red hot in an instant, and spewed forth flames that shaped their way into the length of a great-sword, and yet remained light enough to wield in one hand. His father had been struck by that blade once, Mammon recalled. Lost his tail, which the King hadn¡¯t yet donned for this coming battle, and that very tail of his fathers was crafted into a weapon, that was given to his most prized warrior. The sword had been lost, with time, but he remembered the rumors, that it retained the heat of the blade that sliced it.


    The demonic sword that absorbed the heat of gods. Shameful that it was lost, the King thought, it would have been wonderful irony to wield it now.


    ¡°I see what you¡¯re doing, boy. This suicide mission. You¡¯re buying time for your mistress, and her pitiful followers, to open their own portal.¡± The King spoke, and began stalking forward, setting down his glass at the Knight did the same. She¡¯d reach Humanity first. He doubted the woman had the means to reach them terribly fast, however, but such a gate would be more accurate, where the one they used was not. To their leaders, then? The King knew of affairs in the other world, thanks to those who managed to slip between the two.


    They¡¯d traded bows for explosive powder. Had their technologies caught up to the might of magic?


    He assumed not. The Knight stepped forward, and those blazing blue eyes shone in the flames, as his hair too caught fire. The blade was long, and so blisteringly hot, and it was swung at the King with every intention to kill him in one hit. He braced for the explosion, clawed feet ripped through his boots in their transformation, to pierce into the floor.


    The explosion destroyed his room, and rocked the castle grounds.


    The Knight fled the explosion by dashing off of the balcony and into the sky. Fire, much like the known quantity of his sword, flared from his ankles and shoulder-blades. The wings were more fae-like, insectoid shaped flames, than the wings of an angel, and required no flapping to maintain his flight. The explosion had rocked the castle, and chaos had rapidly bled into the estate, but the mages down below, and in towers surrounding him, continued their work. They couldn¡¯t break focus, as they were on borrowed time.


    It would be only months before the planet perished, and the Knight knew that. He could see the distant eruption of blue-lava volcano¡¯s, their flames of mana spewing with chunks of the planet erupting around them. So little time. Yet he didn¡¯t have to worry about perishing with it.


    He had to worry about perishing now.


    The smoldering heights of the castle, a small bonfire for the size of the sheer cityscape that the castle truly was, flickered down below. In it, he could see the outline of the man.


    Mammon.


    He stood in angelic flame, wreathed in them, and emerged unharmed. He¡¯d donned his wings, large and bat-like, with shreds in the fabric-like skin, and his tail, which thrashed on the ground, an amalgam.


    ¡°Rude.¡±


    Mammon spoke once, and it echoed the halls, his voice too big for anyone to handle. It hurt ears, and nearly disrupted the concentration of the mages down below. The Knight grimaced, and raised his sword, as he watched the King.


    It was a losing battle to begin with.


    Mammon lurched, his body contorting as he gained height, and muscle, and power. The wreath of his horns burst through flesh, splattering blood around him, and the once short hair flowed to be long and white. It was a simple transformation, but one that changed him from seeming human to being downright menacing. The Knight prepared another attack, his sword raised towards the darkened heavens above, and the King launched.


    From zero to a hundred in less than a second, Mammon had flown from his now collapsing balcony, and forced the Knight on the defensive. His claws were fast. Long, blade like digits that had formed across his now armor covered arms, they collided with the blade of flame and began chipping away with bestial swings. Each hit shattered the edge of the flames, and sent embers scattering. The Knight wasn¡¯t able to move in the air to avoid them, simply being pushed back with every swing.


    His stamina was being drained without any true hits being landed.


    With one more heavy strike from Mammon, the Knight let go of the blade. The flaming sword plummeted several feet down, and the Knight swung forward, hitting the King with a strike that made a cracking noise, and the King staggered back through the air.


    The sword itself that dropped like a rock vanished, and reappeared in the Knights hand, and he went on the true offensive. Swinging it in a blur of motion, heavy full tilt sweeps of the blade, he sliced at the King, and began hacking off chunks of meat and armor where he could. Each swing held nearly as much power as the King had previously brought down, and the damage was showing in long scrapes, or flays of meat, that burned with the might of the sword. The King, for his part, was only getting larger as the fight was going on. It wasn¡¯t damage that was sustaining him, but simply time.


    If the fight were t last hours, he¡¯d be at full strength. The Knight didn¡¯t want that to happen. His sword blazed as her brought it back, and then speared forward, stabbing the king in the stomach. The wrath of flames that made up the vast majority of the blade surged forward, and then exploded at the end, filling the sky with black smoke and heat.


    The smoke settled in the air as the Knight floated back and away, and he waited, catching his breath. When it cleared, his face dropped a fraction, and more as he took in the scene.


    ¡°You¡¯ve come at a bad time young Knight. You¡¯d have done well to stay home. I¡¯m stronger now than I¡¯ve ever been. You¡¯ve not changed at all.¡± Mammon¡¯s voice cut through the air.


    He was alive, harmed, but alive. The explosion had ripped off his natural armor, revealing the flesh beneath, and the X shape wound the attack had left. Shallow, smoldering, lacking in substance or any real permanency. Already the Knight could see the flesh reaching out connect, and mend, with burnt chunks falling off to the ground below.


    ¡°You would¡¯ve done well against any of my generals and humors, but you¡¯ve reached your ceiling. There¡¯s nothing beyond this for you.¡±


    Mammon¡¯s movement¡¯s were a blur, and the knight could only try to dodge to a side. His arm, exposed as he did so, was lopped off with one of the talon like fingers of the kings hand. It plummeted with his sword, to crash into the accumulating mana below. It was beyond his call now, and the king knew it.


    The Knight twisted and screamed at the wound, spinning in place in the air to bring his foot up at the head of the King, which was caught. He was powerful. The King had intended to fight an army of God¡¯s, not the Knight of just one, and it showed. The mana was fading, surely, but the strength remained, his culmination of power with no worthy target.


    The King glared, wrapping his tail around his opponent, and with a full rotation threw the Knight down into one of the castle¡¯s archways, which caved in under his weight and force. The fight no longer had real purpose, and he was left woefully disappointed once more.


    ¡°Surely that¡¯s not it, boy.¡± He couldn¡¯t even remember his name anymore. At the start of the fight he may have recalled it, but with his subpar performance the name had been expunged from the mind of the King. Worthless, useless, like every extension of the God¡¯s so called power.


    In the rubble, the man¡¯s upper torso and head peeked out, but that was it.


    ¡°You¡¯re unhappy.¡± The Knight coughed, his blue eyes dimmer than before. No amount of magic made blood less any easier, and the fact that he spoke through the pain was enough to make the King chuckle.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    The King blinked, and paused. His winged furled down, and wrapped around his torso, as he considered the question truthfully. There was no real answer. He¡¯d always been left without satisfaction.


    ¡°You see this? This grand lie we¡¯ve built young Knight? Fantasy, this other world would call it. Children dream of it there, tell stories of it there, bask it in there, and love it. I¡¯ve always found it disgusting. There¡¯s no true joy, there¡¯s no nobility, there¡¯s no dream. Heroes come and go, God¡¯s are arrogant pricks that alter fates of those to their whim, and Humanity is disgusting. None more disgusting than my own kind, even.¡± The King spoke now. He wasn¡¯t fond of speeches, his father gloated too much for him to find joy in them. Yet he spoke, a farewell to the Knight. It was a simple thing to do, a goodbye.


    The King walked to the rubble and sat, groaning as he did so.


    ¡°I¡¯ve hated all of it, yet it¡¯s my duty. To kill and pillage, to combat God¡¯s, it is what brings me a modicum of hypocritical joy. Fleeting, small, limited. I¡¯d always thought I would meet my match, that I would be slain. It¡¯s not true. I will never die. I am more eternal than the God you worship, the planet we stand on, the sun we bask in, and the magic that gives us succor. There will not be one here.¡± Mammon spoke, genuine.


    The ruined archway they stood under lead into the courtyard, where the ritual was commencing. Beams of light flowed steadily from the towers around, and the gigantic written seal of magic was glowing in fever pitch. The King had been concerned that the sword falling would have interrupted it, but now it seemed the flaming blade was lost in the intensely blue light. The language written in that light was one not even he spoke, and it took Necromancer¡¯s resurrecting thousands of monk¡¯s and creatures older than them to find the spell formula to begin with. It was a miracle that they had come this far, even if the exit point couldn¡¯t be chosen. It came with caveats too, one¡¯s that the King accepted.


    ¡°So you¡¯ll just go to another world huh? Ruin it? If you¡¯re so strong, it¡¯ll be like stepping on ants.¡± The Knight groaned. He wanted to keep the King talking, and the King knew that. The grand distraction was welcomed. He had no intention on preventing the Knight¡¯s comrade¡¯s from entering their own portal, but he wouldn¡¯t tell the Knight that. Better to die with purpose, than to die knowing it was in vain, the King thought.


    ¡°The ritual is incomplete. It requires travelers. When we step through, we¡¯ll be sacrificing large portions of our power to the seal.¡± The King chuckled, and smiled the way of the Knight.


    He seemed taken aback by the news. He silently nodded, and stared to the magic at work. Even a fraction of the Kings power would kill mankind, but it was hope. His vision blurred as he took another sharp breath, and grunted in pain.


    The King rose.


    ¡°Your Goddess will be pleased at this distraction. I¡¯ve spent too much mana to go after her.¡± He lied. The King had mana to spare, he could fly across the continent, into the cave she thought she was so hidden in, and kill her. He wouldn¡¯t. It was yet another challenge to overcome, once on the other side, and it would keep him busy.


    Though he did have one last thing on his mind. He turned to the Knight, and stepped up the rubble, until he hovered over the man. The Knight went to say something, but it was too late. The King stepped down on his head and crushed it underneath, splattering blood and bone across the ruins of the archway.


    ¡°Fantasy lied to you, your Goddess lied to you.¡± Mammon stared at the gore underfoot, and stepped back to admire the carnage. He turned and left the corpse behind, approaching the seal that now hummed at the halfway point to its apex.


    Half a day until the invasion was left, and he¡¯d wait for the minutes to tick down, staring into the blue light even as the courtyard filled with his people.


    His army.

 Arc 1.1

    Fantasy was bullshit.


    That was my final understanding of the situation, but those words were the furthest thing from my mind when I was getting ready to leave the house hours prior. It was a Sunday, overcast, and ignored was the energy in my surroundings. Everything felt charged, the air was heavy, my hair was perpetually standing on end, and my legs were sore, which was unusual.


    Normally I didn¡¯t feel them at all. They were heavier than usual too, and it made it nearly impossible to draw my pants up over them from where I sat on my bed. The struggle to get dressed and looking nice was all the harder when coupled with the terrible overcast outside, shrouding what was supposed to be a beautiful sun-shine day into gloom and mist, with a warm bed coaxing me back to its clutches. Yet even the terrible weather couldn¡¯t dissuade a smile on my face, my mood all the better for the days plans.


    I had my first real date. Shifting my weight into the wheel chair, I double and triple checked my cell phone as I fidgeted with the impersonal metal of my chariot, making sure I missed nothing. I hadn¡¯t. All night I¡¯d expected the cancellation text, a change of plans, and it never came.


    The last message was a bright pink heart emoji, sent to me twenty minutes prior, and that send my own into a fit of flutters. I blushed, cursed myself, and wheeled out of my bedroom, heading down the hall of our tiny family home, and stopped by the living room. My mother was there, as she always was, on the sofa with a thousand-mile stare that clued me in, that it was one of her bad days, and I meant to thank my brother later for getting her out of bed. My mood fell a little just looking at the aging face, the wrinkles under eyes and grays around her ears showing more and more in the passing days, and I knew it would¡¯ve been worse if I had to dress her this morning, which made me all the more appreciative of my brother.


    Noah could be a little shit, but he understood when something was important, and this was very important to me.


    ¡°I¡¯m off!¡± I hollered down the hallway, craning my head to look back for him to peek out of his room, or come bolting out.


    He didn¡¯t, and I shrugged at my mother who also didn¡¯t so much as turn to look at me. A little drool ran down her chin, and I frowned knowing I couldn¡¯t reach her without expending too much effort. ¡°I¡¯ll be back later, okay? Just don¡¯t let Noah give you too much shit, or change your channel. Noah! Make sure she eats!¡± I spoke, and then yelled again, and didn¡¯t get a response back from either of them, though I could hear Noah banging around in his room after that.


    Wheeling myself out the front door after pulling some backwards momentum to open it, I dreaded the pain of public transport. The drizzle immediately dampened my hair, and my umbrella had to be folded out and affixed to my chair, and after fidgeting for the right angle for the wind, I rolled down the ramp to the sidewalk. The bus stop wasn¡¯t far from where I lived.


    I was happy when public transport turned out to be less of an irritant than I¡¯d expected, or maybe I was just in that good of a mood. I was fortunate to live in a nicer part of Chicago, where the bus drivers weren¡¯t pricks and people hadn¡¯t broken the strap in rails, which meant I didn¡¯t have to hold on for dear life to a hand guard. The driver helped me, and the ride was short enough to where I didn¡¯t have to fidget too much, but also long enough that I could get my thoughts in order.


    Though my thoughts were only on one thing.


    It hadn¡¯t been but two weeks ago that I¡¯d met her. It was at a school function, a charity fund raiser where we were raising money for an expansion of the library. They figured I looked good enough holding a book, or talking into a lowered microphone, a pity case for people to donate more to the school, that they put me up on a stage, with no actual ramp to get up to it, just for the sympathy points; though I couldn¡¯t for the life of me pull the connection between bad legs, and new books. The parents and especially the mayor could though, because it was a resounding success - we raised more money than we ever had after I got up to talk about my love for books, and the challenges I faced that drove me to them.


    It wasn¡¯t all bullshit. I really did like books. I just didn¡¯t give a shit about raising money for the school, but was promised help with college admission if I got up front and followed a script, so I did. I must¡¯ve done a good job, because parents kept coming up to speak to me about how brave I was. The only person who called the bullshit for what it was had been Peyton.


    ¡°Really put your best foot forward there.¡± Was the first thing she said to me, and it left me so shocked after the boredom, and ass-kissing, that came with the charity drive that I laughed so hard that I choked.


    Choking and coughing your lungs out in front of a pretty girl was never fun, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks just on recollection of the event. Now, after her courting me for two weeks, her words not mine, and constantly putting herself in my presence at her every opportunity, I had broken down and accepted a date with her. Dating a girl.


    "Cripple and gay, you''re really gunning for that college admission huh?" Noah had said the night before, and I had managed to ram the metal footrest of my chair into his shin. Like I said, he could be a little shit.


    I knew Peyton and him would get along, they both lost whatever piece of brain goo a normal human had that filtered their words.


    The ride to down town Chicago was mercifully short, and I was thankful of that fact, yet more time was needed to get my nerves in order. Already I was second guessing the band t-shirt I decided to wear, I was staring at the stupid mock patches in the knee¡¯s of my jeans that obviously weren¡¯t from wear and tear, and part of me wished my hair was pinned up in a more interesting way. When the doors opened, I had to hurry to unstrap my chair and was one part thankful to two parts annoyed that the driver helped me off.


    The bus had dropped me off on Michigan Ave, right next to the gigantic shiny bean of a archway that rested on top of a strip of would-be white buildings filled with cafe¡¯s, a grill, and various other shops and stores. It was in desperate need of a power washing, and people were flocking to it to take pictures with the large mirror-like structure.


    Millennium park was just a little too busy for me, and I parked myself under the bus stop to wait. She said she¡¯d arrive early, but Peyton was nowhere to be seen so far, and the air was just as electrified as earlier, feeding into my anxieties. I took to people watching, since for some odd reason there was not a bird to be seen, and noticed they all seemed more than excited. Each person had a bounce to their step, they moved fast, they smiled brightly, as if the unseen energy I¡¯d been feeling all morning had charged them, and gave the crowd power.


    It reminded me of a holiday season. Had I forgotten one? I¡¯d only ever seen this kind of air of excitement on Fourth of July celebrations, the current of anticipation that went with waiting for the sky to be lit up with fire works and cheering applause. I almost reached for my phone to check, yet was immediately drawn away from my bag by the appearance of a car.


    Sleek cherry red with windows tinted so dark that I couldn¡¯t see inside had pulled right in front of the parking spot. It wasn¡¯t a model I was familiar with in the slightest, we couldn¡¯t afford cars and I couldn¡¯t drive them, so they always were outside of my field of attention. Even still despite my lacking, I knew this was a very new model. It was edged in matte black, the wheels a sporty white, the design too n arrow compared to the current trend of bulky rounding that had come with the advent of electric cars, and all around it draw the eye.


    My eyes were drawn even more as the backseat door opened. Rising from it was a picturesque image of sheer beauty, something boys fantasized about and women envied. Her hair was pulled back, four parts black to two parts orange, streaking in random orientation to give her hair a striped quality, a look that made messy look good on her. She¡¯d dressed up herself in a black short with a high collar shirt with no sleeves, black to match her hair, buttons done down all but to the bottom where it made the shirt flare out slightly around her hips. The orange jeans she wore could¡¯ve looked tacky, but they worked with her hair, and her hazel eyes, which pivoted from her saying something to the driver to looking at me.


    Immediately her lips, as dull pale pink as her nearly stark white face, parted to give me a toothy grin and her full attention. She slammed the car door, ignoring something the driver said, and jogged over to me, pink trainers being the stand out to her outfit that I only barely noticed, too absorbed in staring at her approach. It was killing me as she neared.


    ¡°Sorry for keeping you so long, traffic was a little backed up. You look great, I love the shirt.¡± Peyton spoke with energy, still smiling too much, teeth too white in a way you noticed. I knew they weren¡¯t dentures, but they gave me that vibe.


    With the immediate attention and compliment, my cheeks flushed hot.


    ¡°You look better. That was a uhm, nice car, your dads?¡± I said, trying to change the subject from me to her.


    ¡°Moms. Dad hates the stuff, horse and carriage type guy.¡± Peyton said. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a joke or not, judging by the look on her face.


    ¡°Me too, I don¡¯t like cars so much.¡± I admitted.


    I couldn¡¯t help but notice her gaze drop to my legs. She probably knew. I pretended not to notice, and wheeled out from under the cover of the bus stop. Peyton joined my side, not behind me to push, and began walking while talking as I wheeled beside her.


    ¡°Me neither honestly, I like the open sky. Good breeze, not too much sunlight, like running. You strike me as a coffee shop corner with a beat up old book type though, which is why I¡¯ve planned the date!¡± She said, loud enough to catch some mean glares from older couples and people walking past.


    ¡°Should I be scared?¡± I said, trying to tease.


    ¡°Nope, there¡¯s this neat little place that serves some weird foreign stuff, it has a wild coffee selection. I figured we¡¯d catch lunch there, then come back to the park when it¡¯s a little less full. I was gonna suggest finding some water to feed ducks but¡­.¡± She trailed off. She¡¯d noticed as well. If we were dealing with birdless skies, we¡¯d probably be dealing with duckless waters too.


    I smiled. She¡¯d put in some work to figure out an ideal date for us. I¡¯d known Peyton hadn¡¯t been from around here, new to the city, and she¡¯d gone out of her way to find places to go, a list she curated for me.


    ¡°That sounds lovely.¡± I said. I noticed her checking her watch, and followed up, ¡°Not on a time limit are we?¡±


    She blinked then grinned wider. I was forced to look away, heat rising in my cheeks for not the first or last time today.


    ¡°Kind of. It¡¯s hard to explain. You¡¯re just gonna have to trust me, alright? I promise it¡¯ll all make sense soon, okay?¡± She said that much. I was confused, but I¡¯d nodded.


    The place we were going was only a few blocks down, and traffic jams made it easier to get across streets, meaning we didn¡¯t have to go far.


    Once there, an out of date looking place with a mismatched aesthetic, a mixture between a fifties diner and a modern day caf¨¦, we made our way inside, and Peyton insisted we be away from windows and closer to the back. I¡¯d given her a peculiar look, and she showed me that rakish grin of hers once more and it subjugated me in a mighty fashion. We took the booth in the back corner, and she mercifully didn¡¯t offer to help me as I scooted from my wheelchair to the seat with some effort to get around the corner of the table.


    She was patient the entire time.


    ¡°Why the back corner?¡± I asked now, curiosity unsated.


    Peyton hesitated, and I caught that. I was catching a lot of things in fact. Dust motes seemed sharper, everything seemed sharper, I could see the wrinkles in her clothes more clearly, the fingers on the table she had been tapping with, chewed at the ends so the flesh was slightly torn. The lighting in the place must have been incredible, and I blinked a few times, which she studied. She was awfully quiet as she searched for an answer, or what was looking more like an excuse with every second that lingered.


    ¡°I was worried about a car coming through the building.¡± Again, she said that, and for some reason I didn¡¯t take it as a joke. If I hadn¡¯t just sat, and not even yet ordered, I¡¯d assume I had been drugged. My perceptions were dialed to an eleven, both sight and hearing, and even my brain seemed to be working a little more on edge. I winced again, and saw her staring at me more intensely.


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    I was too focused on her expression to notice the hand creeping across the table. It took mine firmly, digits wrapping around them in a firm touch, and that anchored me back.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± She asked now.


    ¡°Yeah- Yeah I¡¯m fine. I think I took a double dose of medicine this morning, eheh.¡± I spoke, and with jittery hands I watched the waitress approach. Our age, but not from our school, and I didn¡¯t know what made me draw that connection. Dark skinned, wearing the cafe¡¯s checker-pattern black and white uniform with a matching half white, half black, apron on over the attire, Peyton ordered for us with the girl listening more than I was. She asked for tea¡¯s that I hadn¡¯t heard of, words I probably would¡¯ve mispronounced, and I watched the waitress, acutely aware of her presence. She scribbled the order down on a notepad, and I noticed her pencils eraser was chewed, her finger nail was cracked, she had a scar on her pinky, and her wrist was stiffer than someone¡¯s normally would be.


    I winced as if it were becoming a common tick of mine. The hyper focus subsided when Peyton noticed, and squeezed my hand again.


    ¡°Focus on me, Charlie.¡± Peyton spoke again, and I hiccupped. My face grew red at the nickname, Charlotte to Charlie, which made me smile. Focusing on her was easier.


    Unlike the checkerboard tiles of the floor that needed serious cleaning, the seats that had cracks and little pin holes here and there from someone prodding with a pencil, the wood grain that had split towards one end where they nailed it to the wall, and the dust motes that traveled up towards the fan, and unlike all of the too many details, Peyton was security incarnate. Her face had no blemishes, her eyes were perfectly clear, not a single bloodshot line in them, her lips were slightly chewed on like her fingers were and when I came aware that I was staring at her lips I looked up and at her eyebrows instead.


    She was easier to look at than the world itself, and that felt abnormal.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay, sorry.¡± I repeated myself, taking deep breaths, and focusing only on the two-toned head of beauty before me. She smiled, and after a while, I regained clarity- or in this case seemed to lose it.


    ¡°Good. Listen when I said we¡¯re on a time crunch I meant it. We were supposed to have a few more days, now less than ten minutes, I was going to try to explain to you later today, but in the next five minutes I¡¯m going to step outside. When I do, you¡¯re going to drink your tea, then get ready to move okay?¡± Peyton spoke, squeezing my hand again, and now she was glancing towards the window.


    The waitress returned to our drinks, and I noticed her staring at me. Too long, dazed even, and she blinked a few times and winced as well when Peyton cleared her throat. She turned and left, and I looked to Peyton now, more confused than ever.


    Peyton stood, and I gripped her hand. Her posture and demeanor had briefly changed in the moment she stood, and it broke for only a moment into a smile as she pulled away from me, before jogging her way to the front of the building and out into the street.


    I did as I was told, and sipped my tea. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but I didn¡¯t know what else to say or do - she seemed too serious for it to be a prank, and my estimation of Peyton left me positive I wasn¡¯t being ditched. The tea was way too strong as I mulled over my thoughts, and I wrinkled my nose. Adding trace amounts of sugar, I sipped it, and found it to be too sweet. I hadn¡¯t even added that much sugar.


    Irritatingly the wait was punctuated by the tick of a clock on the wall. Too loud, too slow. My ears picked that much up, and as I glared at it, they started picking up the confused mutter that was rising from the front of the shop, and it was impossible to crane my head to see what the commotion was about. Whatever was happening was taking place outside people were filing out of the restaurant, leaving me alone. From where I sat, I wasn¡¯t able to make out much, and eventually fumbled out of my seat and into my chair as my legs begin to throb from sitting too far at an angle.


    Wheeling my way forward through the shop, moving aside pushed out chairs, I muttered curses at my predicament, and eventually managed to get to the front door and wheel myself out.


    The world was a dark blue.


    Not in a sad, melancholy, metaphorical sense of the word. It quite literally was blue. The pavement beneath my chair glowed, and the sky had roiled with a deep and black blue of not quite clouds, and too dark to be the normal sky, with the vicious of a pot bowling over. When I thought everything was charged before, now it felt absolutely volatile. The air around me felt thick, as if it were too humid and too hot, yet there was a chill in my bones that chicken pimpled my arms.


    The street itself was outright packed too, people murmuring among themselves. I was too low to see what they were looking at initially, assuming it was something on down the street, until movement caught my eye. The volatile churning sea of a shadow black and ink blue sky was moving to one destination, as if it were being sucked to that one spot.


    The center of the city, and the center of a brewing storm. Red light spilled from that spot, a chaotic circle flashing with bolts of lightning that found themselves colliding and not reaching the ground, and from it streamed black dots that were too far to make out the shapes of, and from those black dots shot streaks of- fireworks? That was my rational mind at work, until the first ¡®firework¡¯ touched down, and with it an explosion that rocked the nearby buildings. The next seconds were chaos. The crowd rumbling and screams tore through as more of the red lights touched down, and the explosions grew closer, and in their rush to back away I was knocked from my wheel chair.


    I hit the ground hard and was being nearly trampled, sometimes stomped by the crowd of panicked people, and I could do nothing but curl up in a ball, still slightly tangled in my wheelchair, to protect my head. My voice was quickly becoming hoarse as I yelled for them to stop, or for help, but people were too panicked. Too afraid of what was happening, and I still couldn¡¯t wrap my brain around it myself.


    Moments later, the screams got worse, and the crowd was thinning around me. My body was bruising and ached, scuffed from being stomped or kicked, yet I still ventured a peek to see what the commotion was about, the ground rumbling from unknown forces.


    In the center of the street stood a man on a horse. No, I realized, not a man, not a horse, it was both. The centaur stood larger than an average car, its bottom half a slab of muscle and thick black fur, while its top half was that of a very tanned man, from what little skin it showed. It was donned in armor and robe-like pieces of cloth, and though it was nearly encased from head to toe- well, in this case hip, the muscle beneath its form stood out more than that of its horsen half. One bicep was larger around than my entire body, and it wielded a staff the length of a car, ending in a point of shimmering red glass that made the shape of glowing axe head, and he was putting it to good use.


    As a crowd on the other side tried to disperse, the centaur rushed, and swiped across the spreading masses, bisecting no less than twenty in the one swing. I¡¯d never seen someone die, let alone so many, and the sheer amount of blood left me making a strangled gasp as I tried to crawl back to the shop, struggling to untangle myself from the wheelchair that was more than useless now. If another crowd of fleeing people came, the trampling may certainly kill me, if the centaur didn¡¯t notice me first.


    Advantages of being small and low to the ground.


    The Centaur moved with constant focus on killing, his axe head plunging down to cut one mans arm off clean at the shoulder. When his momentum would normally be arrested by others in the way, he instead trampled them, chasing the larger groups of fleeing people down the road as cars veered. One tried to run straight into him, plowing through citizens as a byproduct, and the creature went low. His top half was almost like a vertical plank, arms extended, and as the staff dropped, he caught the front of the car. From what had to be at least eighty to zero in a single collision, the Centaur didn¡¯t so much as flinch or even get pushed back, and he hefted the car up to crush the front between two massive arms, engine block and all.


    I watched in silent horror as he lobbed it onto another crowd of onlookers. I¡¯d already crawled back, to the door of the tea shop, and found I couldn¡¯t reach the handle. My arms were too short, the handle too high, and scraping my fingers into the recess between the door and frame did nothing but break the ends off of my nails. I was unable to pry it open, and I choked a sob of defeat at my predicament as another set of creatures swaggered their way down the street.


    The black dots that I had seen before were these creatures. Centaurs, and now frog-like men, and god knew what else. Their heads were large, round, distended slightly in the front, with too large mouths and languid green skin. They glistened with moisture, taller than I was, and fat in the arms and legs while skinny in the torso. Whatever they were, they were just as ugly as I was scared, and that was saying quite a bit. They didn¡¯t seem to pack the destructive capabilities of the Centaur, instead focusing on single targets, a woman that was running caught by the neck. It squeezed and crushed her windpipe to strangle her screams, and simply discarded her limp body onto the road, where a car ran her over as it tried to swerve, and then crashed into a lamp post.


    By this point the streets and nearby buildings had started being covered in flames. It was a small mercy that I was backed into a corner, in the slight recess of a doorway, and that the flame¡¯s hadn¡¯t reached to my side of the street. Mercy however, was quick to run out, and the centaur had doubled back. It had picked up its staff, and the glass axe was now the shape of a spear, and the creature was using it to do a double check of bodies. It pierced corpses, and rolled them to the side, making piles with how it skewered some and then used a hoof to pull the limp bodies from his spears end.


    It stopped, and noticed me.


    Quickly I turned and slammed my hands in the glass door, trying to break or crack. It was double paned, too thick, and each thud of my hands only made more noise, and the frog men were making their way over with the centaur as I choked back a sob. The galloping of the figure made me all too aware that I didn¡¯t stand much of a chance of survival. In a matter of minutes they had wiped out an entire street, and I was just one girl, with legs that didn¡¯t work, and no hope of rescue. Would police officers arrive? Not a chance, I figured. The explosions had been closer to the center of town, and that¡¯s likely where most of the threat was, threat of fire and threat of these creatures. Distant sirens rung over the sounds of chaos, and more noises of explosions, and they were too far away. I could already feel the shadow of the creature wash over me, and could feel the menace.


    ¡°P-Please don¡¯t, I- You don¡¯t have to do this.¡± I glanced back as it raised its spear, and saw the hesitation. Maybe I looked that pitiful. Tears, snot, my hair messed up, and my clothes scuffed. My legs were at slightly odd angles, and I had blood on my hands from scrapes and cuts, noticing them as I raised my hands.


    The Centaur bowed his head, and then lunged down with the spear aimed at me. I instinctively flinched and closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to come. It¡¯d be over. Life didn¡¯t flash before my eyes, and I didn¡¯t see the light at the end of a tunnel or anything like that, I just felt regret, and an uncomfortable amount of relief. I wasn¡¯t suicidal, not even in the passive sense, and that relief that it was over scared me as much as the hulking titan that was about to kill me. It was the end of hardship, I could go see my dad. Coping maybe.


    The spear never found me in the end.


    Moments of quiet passed, until I heard the grinding of pavement and soft grunts. I dared to open my eyes, and felt the better half of relief, not the ugly confused sort I had just experienced, at the sight.


    ¡°I told you to wait inside for me.¡± Peyton grunted, her feet firm in the ground. The spear was being held back by her, and I noticed she was as wrong as anything on the street prior. Her arms, exposed from the sleeveless shirt, were stark white, paler than I was by a significant margin, with blue veins scattered across in too many places, like webbing up her arm, and thicker veins of the protruding sort stood out where muscle sat, coiled and visibly straining. The arms on up seemed to be stretched for skin, and her hands were different to match, fingers long and pointed, with no details of little things like fingernails, or detailed digits. To say they had turned to bone would be a good guess.


    It was her face that worried me the most. It was stretched back, as if the skin was pulled taut at the back of her skull. Her eyes were too angular, too sharp, redder than the crimson that washed the streets, a solid color from one corner of the eye to the other. Teeth of her exposed mouth were pointed sharp razors, and her nose was nearly flattened. If I hadn¡¯t heard her voice, I wouldn¡¯t have known it was her.


    Having seen that very same Centaur heft and crush a car, I didn¡¯t know how she was capable of holding back his spear, and the power struggle was clear as her arms began to shake. ¡°Leave this one if you want to live, buddy.¡± Peyton spoke, confident, and I realized she had only sounded normal for my sake before, as now the voice was filled with a snarl, rough at the edges as if she just eat a hand full of gravel, and had damaged her throat thoroughly.


    The center, in response, hefted back his spear, and she released it. In one moment it seemed to stand down, and in the next Peyton struck it.


    Her figure moved in a dangerous step forward, and it reminded me of a coiled snake. That clawed hand, stark white, was drawn back in one instant, and I could see every muscle in her back scrunch up and the fingers curve inwards, muscles rippling in preparation, before she striked out into the center of the Centaurs stomach. It was a follow through, a step into him, that let her penetrate the armor, into the flesh, and then out of his back, her whole body wrenched into his form from hand to bicep. It gasped, and Peyton had to use considerable effort to remove herself from the creatures body before it collapsed forward onto its knee¡¯s, all four. It slumped to the side seconds later, curling up into itself.


    To say it had been murdered in cold blood would be an understatement, it hadn¡¯t been a threat any longer from what I saw.


    ¡°Come on. You can get up, and run right?¡± The monster known as Peyton turned to look at me, arm covered in bile and blood. The question was almost as confusing as she was terrifying, and I glanced to my wheelchair. In a huff she grabbed my wrist, which elicited a yelp, and I was yanked up.


    Onto my feet.


    The act alone startled me, as my legs shook like jelly. I was upright, and Peyton wasn¡¯t letting me fall, and I found my weight was being supported by once useless limbs. Confusion. I looked up at her stretched back face, and she stared down at me with a nod.


    ¡°I¡¯ll explain in a bit, but we have to go. Just follow me, and trust me.¡± The frog creatures were approaching. The movement startled me forward, and I had trouble remembering how feet worked, but I was running, at some points being dragged, down the sidewalk as I heard some unseen behemoth roar behind me a good distance towards the cities center. I decided not to spare a glance back, but shrieked as Peyton pulled us through a wall of flame, too deep into the curtain of heat for my comfort, and I ran feeling my hair and clothes being singed, yet my skin felt fine. I felt really good in fact, now that the terror of near death was temporarily behind me.


    As we ran, we moved across more streets, and I saw more figures. A large creature that I could only call a Orc was bashing at a brick wall, trying to get into it, too big and too green with muscles that would impede its movement through the shops window, so it would just tear down the building it seemed. More Centaurs mowing down crowds, each as efficient as the one I encountered. There were tiny little red devils, imps, that were hauling away goods from the stores, tiny looters. I think I saw the head of a Dragon peaking around from a corner, but Peyton moved faster past that particular street corner, which made me think it actually was a Dragon.


    Fantasy was bullshit, I¡¯d decided. I hated it.

 Arc 1.2

    Peyton to my benefit was remarkably calm, and seemed to have a plan. Still shell shocked from seeing literal monsters, and being at the cusp of death, I was being dragged along with no questions asked. Flames still terrified me, an upturned car having exploded after leaking gasoline having set the street we were running down aflame, and Peyton charged us straight through it, and I felt the remarkable confusion return as licking flames crossed bar flesh from where my pants leg had burned, yet I didn¡¯t feel pain. I wondered if it was adrenaline muting the hurt, and with no time to check I assumed that was the case.


    ¡°Just a few more blocks Charlie, we¡¯ve got this alright? Don¡¯t stop, don¡¯t look at anything, keep your eyes closed.¡± Her voice was all I could hear over the ringing of my ears. My blood pressure was up, stars were in my eyes, yet my lungs didn¡¯t burn with the need for oxygen, and my leg¡¯s didn¡¯t hurt.


    My legs.


    They were maybe the fifth biggest mystery I¡¯d have to deal with today, and I was having a hard time coping.  Just twenty-four hours prior they were useless slabs of meat, there for aesthetic and to get in my way. Now they moved with no trouble.


    As strange as it was, it meant I was grieving, as my penance was apparently up, and I felt guilt at that fact.


    The grip on my arm tightened, and I was hauled forward, stumbling harder as we moved faster, and I felt a crash behind me. Something had tried to cut off our way, and we had passed by it with a narrow margin to spare. We turned sharp into an alleyway as I didn¡¯t dare look back, and moved down it with haste.


    Peyton went first, and seemed to phase through solid concrete ground, trash bags, empty cans, and syringes. I paused and boggled at the sight, confused on what exactly I was staring at, before her pale arm reached up and through the ground to drag me forward.


    One moment there was nothing, and the next there were stairs there, an entire recess in the alley appearing in my vision the moment I was touched by her hand. It had a safety guard rail, and was cleaner than the past six alley¡¯s combined, going down deep alongside a building to a bright red door embedded into the concrete wall.


    ¡°Okay, we¡¯re good.¡± Peyton leaned against the wall of the staircase, steps down, and I felt my weight sag as my legs finally gave out. I crashed onto the first step to sit there, not necessarily physically exhausted, yet the emotional strain had found me, and a phantom ache I couldn¡¯t explain had surfaced. I needed a good cry. Peyton observed me, before walking over as I felt myself start choking on a sob, my eyes watering and obscuring my vision.


    Her arms wrapped under my legs, and to my back, and she lifted me as I broke down into the fit of heavy crying. She didn¡¯t seem to mind, and walked the stairs with my weight as I put my face in her shirt.


    It took her longer than just a moment to get me into the door, it seemed that strength that could be put through a slab of living meat didn¡¯t translate to being able to carry a girl and open a door at the same time, but she managed. I kept my face in her shoulder, and was expecting the worst.


    When I braved a peek, it wasn¡¯t the worst, but I may have though so a week ago.


    The room was cast in red and purple fluorescent glows, with the heavy smell of alcohol and faint smell of cigarette smoke, and another musty tang that I couldn¡¯t place. To our right as she carried me was a long bar, filled to the brim with bottles on the wall, with a black sheen of dark marble making up the length of the entire counter that surely fit more than forty people on a good day. The left side of the gigantic room was a sitting area, with rounded black leather seats to match the bar counter, and tables in various states of damage, chipped on the edges, one with a crack down to the middle, and each with empty cigarette trays, and where the leather seats weren¡¯t available chairs had been flipped and onto the tables.


    The middle of the room, directly in front of us, was a large stage, with more smaller tables surrounding it, and a long length of poles that extended from the floor to the ceiling, rotating in place. She¡¯d brought me to an empty strip club.


    I boggled at that fact, momentarily stunned that Peyton would know about a place like this, or even maybe frequent it as a little voice nagged my mind about that idea, and then I found myself confused on it even having power. With the explosions and chaos, the city had to be in the midst of a large blackout, but everything here was still functional.


    It also didn¡¯t feel as charged as the entire city had.


    With a soft grunt, Peyton would sit me down, and wander over to the bar, hopping it¡¯s length with her ever so fluid grace, and begin gathering glasses.


    ¡°Peyton, where are we?¡± I muttered now, finally coming out of my sob struck state. Few hiccups still found their way to my throat, and my whole mouth felt thick with saliva and the taste of smoke, so I was thankful when she brought over water for me to drink in a comically large beer glass.


    ¡°One of my dad¡¯s investments. We try to keep a money flow here on Terra, and depravity sells.¡± She sat down across from me, seeming to sense that I needed my space. I did need that space. The image of her inhuman appearance was still burned into my brain. I was also relieved that this didn¡¯t seem to be one of her regular haunts, for some stupid reason that I couldn¡¯t come to terms with.


    ¡°Why here?¡± I asked, between sips of water.


    ¡°It¡¯s warded, essentially. You saw the staircase was invisible right? If we don¡¯t want people to find it, they won¡¯t find it. Same applies to Demon¡¯s, unless they¡¯re on another level, in which case there¡¯s no where we could hide honestly.¡± She spoke, and didn¡¯t sip her water, resting cheek in her hand as she stared across the table at me. It was all so matter of fact.


    ¡°Warded¡­. Demon¡¯s. The¡­. Horse-man?¡±


    ¡°Centaur.¡±


    ¡°Centaur, and the frog-people?¡±


    ¡°Toalins.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± I muttered, staring at her. She smiled, toothy and amused, and I looked away.


    ¡°You have a lot of questions, so ask them, we¡¯re safe for now. This place runs off of a generator of sorts, keeps the light cost down, and the wards will last a few days.¡± Peyton said, as reassuring as ever, and it did nothing to calm my nerves.


    ¡°What are you?¡± I blurted out. For a moment I stared at her, before my face flushed hot, as I realized what I had said. It wasn¡¯t planned, I was hoping to avoid that topic all together, but it slipped out and now was in the air. She stared at me, seeming stern or more seriously, before she tapped a finger on the table.


    My gaze followed it, and I gasped. The index finger across her hand had turned back into pale bone, with its talon like finger scarring the table with each tap.


    ¡°Striges is what we call ourselves - Vampires, is what you¡¯d call us these days. Hunters of the night, irresistible undead, baby eaters, stealer of husbands and wives.¡± It was with that she spoke, and I saw through it despite my startle. She was picking on me a bit, but it was all in jest, except for that first part. That part was deadly seriously.


    ¡°Vampire.¡±


    ¡°Mhm.¡±


    ¡°You drink blood?¡±


    ¡°To an extent.¡± She said, reclining back in her seat. Noticing I was done with my water during our conversation, she slid hers across to me, as if to say she didn¡¯t need it, yes she drank blood. ¡°Blood can be used in place of sustenance, but we drink the mana from blood, essentially. It¡¯s in the bodily fluids and organs that the concentration of mana is highest, stored power, you dig?¡± She asked, and I nodded, feeling numb. I certainly did not dig.


    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how much that applies to demon¡¯s, but also human¡¯s. Succubi and Incubi that elope for those concentrations, they¡¯re essentially Striges also but different dynamic, human¡¯s that cannibalize each other sometimes without realizing that it¡¯s that very mana they¡¯re hungry for after that first taste, and you even get trace amounts from animals, and I think some cultures even drink bird spit because of it, without knowing.¡± Peyton drummed her fingers on the table as she explained, mercifully all digits back to their fleshy normal selves. ¡°It¡¯s historically been too low in quantity to be important for Human¡¯s though, but now you probably have enough that I¡¯d get the equivalent to a sugar rush if I sipped on one of your kind.¡±


    I flushed at the thought, and dipped my head to drink more from my mug. I¡¯d regret it later, but dehydration was worse than a full bladder.


    All the talk of death, the sight of death, the scent of blood still fresh in my nostrils, and the knowledge that hundreds of thousands were dying left me to an obvious conclusion, even if my cheeks were still tinged with red.


    ¡°So what now, do you kill me?¡± I muttered while staring down at my mug, expecting the worst. If I thought with the darker, pessimistic, side of my brain, I found myself imagining Peyton hunched over my lifeless body, eating flesh and muscle alike in that stretched out, altered state of hers. When I glanced up however, I felt ashamed that I had considered the fact. She looked hurt.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t wanna kill you. I want you to live, Charlie.¡± She reached out, and pressed her hand over mine, and I did my best not to flinch away. I didn¡¯t want to hurt her feelings more, with my future hanging by razor wire. ¡°Nobody knows what¡¯s going to come of this. This¡­. Invasion. Our world, Gehenna, is essentially unlivable¡­. Demon-kind are here because Earth is our last resort.¡±


    ¡°If the invasion just started, how¡¯ve you been here for weeks now? I¡¯ve went to school with you, and your parents own¡­. Businesses.¡± I flailed, gesturing at the room. It was a convenient excuse to slip my hand from hers.


    ¡°Some of our kind can come through the gate, so long as we¡¯re willing to lose a chunk of our power. Your world has been bereft of mana, so coming here means we have to leave most of it behind. Still means we¡¯re stronger than your kind, just not as strong as we would be otherwise. My parent¡¯s came over, and started a new life several hundred years ago.¡± Peyton said, in a matter-of-fact isn¡¯t it obvious kind of way.


    ¡°How old are you then?¡± I asked, curiosity eating at me.


    ¡°Same as you, I¡¯m very young for my kind. We were lucky that Centaur seemed to be weakened, as hopefully most things are, had he been full powered I think he would¡¯ve killed both of us.¡± She laughed, and I flinched at the thought. The image of the creature mowing through so many humans was enough to send a chill down my spin, the thought of that being a creature weakened was terrifying. I wanted to never meet one on his best day.


    I tried to ignore that thought. I had other questions that I needed answered.


    ¡°My legs.¡± I choked out now, and caught her attention more than I ever had before. ¡°How can I walk?¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°That one is¡­. Peculiar. Demon-kind was warned that magic was being returned to you all, so it may be that? Enough magic, in sufficient quantities, can create miracles. Enough magic and you can create life in an instant, or cause mass death in that same instant. Suffice to say you¡¯re probably not the only one dealing with side effects, both positive and negative.¡± Peyton was doing her best to explain to me, and it seemed like she was trying to fill in the gaps of what she didn¡¯t know with well educated guesses, judging by the way her tone changed. ¡°You probably noticed before, in the diner right? You were¡­. Seeing things more clearly, hearing and feeling? Magic. Mana.¡± That matter of fact way of speaking again.


    ¡°So I¡¯m like a Witch now?¡± I grumbled, unhappy with how ridiculous it all sounded.


    Peyton laughed, loud, and it made my face turn red and my ears grow hot too. To be so in the dark left me constantly flailing in equal parts embarrassment, and fear.


    ¡°I guess you could say that? Really it¡¯s a little more simple than that. There are uh- incantations, some people do sacrificing, but magic is a lot less of a rule and more of a constant. You can break some parts of it down to a science, sure, but you can¡¯t properly quantify it, and it effects everyone differently.¡± She tried her best to explain that part as well.


    ¡°For example, one man may be great with conjuring fire, but you could be complete ass at it. He could show you the step by step of making flame, but that might not be how magic works for you, you could require a different channeling method all together. Bloodline plays a big factor, but most humans are starting fresh, but don¡¯t be surprised if your brother for instance shares a similar affinity as you do.¡± Peyton explained, and I quickly was getting lost. It was all too confusing, and she wasn¡¯t a very good teacher I noted.


    The mention of my brother was now dwelling on my mind, and hot tears started to fill my eyes.


    ¡°My mom and brother were at home.¡± I spoke, choking on the words.


    Peyton frowned, and gave me a nod, glancing away. It was unspoken what may have come of them, and even more so with my context.


    ¡°My mom is vegetative¡­. Her mind crumbled. Maybe she, like how my legs?¡± I seemed hopeful, and looked across to her, receiving a pained smile and nod.


    Maybe. Maybe like how my legs were fixed, maybe with how this whole thing was working, my mother was back to normal, and escaped the chaos with Noah. Maybe they were alive now, and hiding, safe and secure. Did she feel as guilty as I was to be cured? I wondered that, but didn¡¯t say that to Peyton, as I stared down past the table¡¯s edge at my legs.


    I was so very tired, and was now noticing that fatigue as my adrenaline left me. My head nodded off, and I looked to Peyton, who smiled my way.


    ¡°Get some sleep, we¡¯re safe here for a while. There¡¯s a bathroom in the back if you need it, it¡¯s for the performers so you have showers and stuff.¡± Peyton spoke, and I nodded as I put my head down on the table.


    It wasn¡¯t the outside I was scared of, I was still weary of being in the presence of a Vampire. The fatigue was stronger than my will to stay awake and alert in the end, and I dozed without much of concern, and my thoughts were on my father as I did so. Losing him had been the worst day of my life up until now, and somehow this whole day still stood at a firm second place in comparison. At least I had hope my mother and brother were alive, however slim.


    Hope was something I was always bankrupt of, I realized. Sleep took me not long as tears started to roll down my cheeks at those troubling thoughts.


    ?


    Sleep may have been the easiest thing I¡¯d done in my life, in this instance. It went unnoticed before, through all the chaos, confusion, and shattering of my normal human life - but I was sore. Sore in a place I didn¡¯t understand, not necessarily in my sternum but that¡¯s where my mind placed it. To say it was my core wouldn¡¯t have been incorrect, as it felt like something a surgeon couldn¡¯t reach with a scalpel and a saw. The chaos had drained something immeasurable, and left me weak, and that¡¯s why I slept.


    I somehow rationalized that as I slept. There were no dreams, and I certainly wasn¡¯t lucid, but the awareness of that new place in my body made me aware of myself in general, and my thoughts that felt like they floated on the edge of my consciousness, muted and grayed by the need to sleep, but something that I could focus on and make out in the fog. Emotionally disconnected they were too. Those thoughts were on Peyton, and I didn¡¯t feel the affection, neither fear, that I held for the girl. Instead it was all rational, clean, and filtered through the haze.


    I thought of my father too. That awareness made me feel my legs as I thought of him, the two intrinsically connected. I remembered laying upside down in the car, with glass and who knew what else all over me. There was smoke, there was fire, and the entire front of the car was caved in. I remember seeing what was left of my dad.


    That too, didn¡¯t hurt in my sleep. I¡¯d normally wake from night terrors, the fear of suffocation, the need to get to him and somehow pull him out of the metal, the feeling that my legs were neither there, yet still connected and still pinning me in the wreckage. That I decided was still my worst day.


    This was my second worse.


    In sleep I was nourished, and that pit in my chest seemed to fill up with warmth. Bubbly, energizing, reviving me, and my brain said it was blue, but I had a feeling that warmth was another color entirely. Something else I couldn¡¯t rationalize. My monkey brain simply wasn¡¯t capable of figuring out anything on my own. Occasionally in dreams I heard talking. Someone else had entered the room, and that warmth seemed to bounce inside of its bodily recess, trying to reach the new threat. I heard Peyton coo at me, and touch my hair, and that made the warmth calm down.


    I didn¡¯t hear any voices after that, and slept for what had to be another three hours, or ten years, or four minutes. My brain couldn¡¯t decide.


    The peripheral of my thoughts continued to buzz, until they landed on an unfortunate thought that ruined sleep for me and startled that warmth again. My mother and brother were still out there.


    I was able to open my eyes and wake up without trouble.


    The room was dimmer than it had been before, cast in a different shade of green. It wasn¡¯t like the glow outside, fortunately, just lights strung up or stapled into the walls and ceiling to give the club some sort of ambiance. Much to my panic, and relief, Peyton wasn¡¯t in the room either.


    She was both safe and dangerous to me now. She¡¯d mercifully left me a glass of water, and a change of clothing, the water of which I quickly downed. Still thirsty. My throat was raw from the fire and smoke, and while I didn¡¯t know how long I slept, I was able to figure that it was long enough for that pain to settle and my mouth to dry, so a few hours at the least.


    My hands placed on either side of the seat, and I slid down it, reaching for a wheel chair that wasn¡¯t there. For a moment, I was confused and defeated, before remembering that I could walk.


    Walk.


    Something that had been entirely out of my future. I hadn¡¯t ever bothered with the particulars, because they didn¡¯t matter, and I was too numb to listen to doctors or my mother back then, but I¡¯d known that my legs were saved from the wreckage at the cost of my mobility. Amputation had been on the table back then, just after the accident, but mercifully it hadn¡¯t happened. For some reason I doubted my legs would¡¯ve grown back today if that had been the outcome.


    I climbed out of the bench and admired my legs. I flexed the muscle, and reached down to touch the calf of my left leg. The fire we ran through had burned through my pants entirely, leaving large holes that reached up to the knee. No visible burns, and only the already existing scars of gnarled flesh and stitching.


    Whatever had given me my movement back hadn¡¯t spared me that indignity, and I was glad for that. I¡¯d always worn my scars proudly since the accident, and didn¡¯t want to lose them now. My attention turned to the change of clothes as I stood back up.


    Not my style.


    Peyton had left me a tank-top with the clubs logo, a fish with bright red lipstick, and a pair of jogging pants with the same logo cheaply plastered on the side leg. It was better than nothing.


    By the time I had changed and kicked my old charred clothes into a heap under the table, Peyton had returned. She too had changed since our run, and was wearing clothing that I couldn¡¯t find a particular style towards. The pants were bright yellow, and not quite fabric, with bars of pink and black running down the sides, while her shirt was a pink that matched the stripes, tight on her form, and it too was made of a strange fabric. The jacket she wore was denim, and her boots were a mismatched black that only matched the stripes of the pants, and the bow she wore in her now pinned up hair.


    It reminded me of when I was very young and tried to dress myself, and somehow Peyton made it work. There was a confidence to how she walked, sunglasses on over that toothy grin of hers, and she lifted those glasses to rest on top of her head.


    ¡°Morning sleepy head, you look better. Your hair is kind of uhm¡­.¡± She gestured at her head, and the gestures didn¡¯t tell me much.


    I checked myself with a hand, and found that not only was my hair messy, but it was charred in a lot of places as my clothes had been, and still smelled with smoke. I put on a scowl, and that made Peyton laugh, which immediately made me self conscious of myself. The end of the world could often times pale in comparison to a pretty girls attention, I was quickly finding.


    ¡°The girls probably have some scissors and make up in the back if you want to do a touch up.¡± Peyton stopped near me, and leaned on the table with one hand as she admired my outfit. I flushed in the cheeks, and felt even more embarrassed. The jogging pants, sure, a mercy. The tank top however was meant for women who could fill out the top more than I could, like Peyton could, and that thought made everything just a little worse for me.


    ¡°No shot you have an overlarge t-shirt back there?¡± I spoke, and found my voice was gravelly still.


    ¡°Not unless you want the fish to have a pair of tits hanging out, no.¡± Peyton smirked, and I shot her a look and shook my head.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the plan here? Where are we going now? Out of the city? Surely the military is here by now¡­. Or they¡¯re going to be here, soon.¡± I asked. It didn¡¯t slip by me that on the second question, she winced just a bit, which made my heart drop. I realized it before she said it.


    ¡°You have two weeks worth of food here at minimum, and there¡¯s a manual for keeping the generator running with mana. I¡¯ll try to come back through before it runs out, but no promises.¡± She spoke, and kept her eyes away from me.


    ¡°Peyton!¡± My voice was an immediate shrill as panic set in. She flinched again, and looked toward the ground at my feet, but still not at me. ¡°You¡¯re going to leave me?!¡±


    ¡°Leave is a strong word, you¡¯ll be safe here.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t!¡± I stepped forward despite myself. That warmth in my chest was bouncing around in its cavity again, trying to escape.


    ¡°She can and she will.¡±


    I halted. The voice wasn¡¯t Peyton¡¯s. It was still a woman¡¯s, more feminine than not, though it carried a tone I didn¡¯t often hear. Regal was the word that sprung to mine. I let my gaze dart to the direction of the voice, and saw Peyton tense as I looked past her.


    Another woman, taller than us both, was standing at the door. Orange hair just like Peyton¡¯s spread out around her shoulders and form, with the same patterns of striped back black that ran through, with eyes that were just as orange, but beady and slitted at the center unlike the wide puppy dog eyes of Peyton''s own. Her face wasn¡¯t stretched back, and she was remarkably Human, and stunningly beautiful, but I saw right through it in a way I hadn¡¯t with Peyton, that the flesh she wore was closer to the fabric on her shoulders than her true self. The woman¡¯s sense of style wasn¡¯t as chaotic as Peyton¡¯s, wearing all black except for accessories like a belt, a choker, rings and a bracelet that were golden, a turtle neck and pair of pants, of similar unknown fabric to Peyton¡¯s own, hugging a form that was very shapely in a way that gave her a sense of power, and not allure.


    I¡¯d stared down a Centaur, yet had never seen something so inhuman. She moved with grace, and created a momentum that made every step seem too easy, as she approached with that glowering stare of what my brain registered as malice and disgust.


    ¡°You¡¯d do well to listen to her child, this is the safest place in your city now. Maybe it¡¯s not so safe though, if you keep standing so close to her.¡± The woman stopped next to Peyton, towering above her by at least an entire foot, and was able to stare down at me with a glower. I instinctively took a step back, and then another.


    I recognized the voice as the one I heard while sleeping. She¡¯d been here since I¡¯d slept, and it explained why that sensation in my chest had been on guard. It was similarly on guard now, ready to attack, yet there was no Peyton to calm it.


    She seemed as concerned and as scared as I felt.


    ¡°Good, you seem to understand your situation.¡± The woman, who I had under good authority now was Peyton¡¯s mother, stared at me for a moment longer. I didn¡¯t dare speak. ¡°Peyton, we¡¯re leaving now. Say goodbye to your friend, then we leave. Typhon will not be kept waiting. He is in a good mood thanks to this invasion, so let''s keep it that way." She lost all interest in me, and was now staring down her daughter.


    ¡°Yes mother.¡± Peyton spoke, and kept her head down.


    The figure of doom left, and gave me and Peyton a fleeting sense of peace from her presence. I¡¯d been holding my breath, sucking in a need for it after the moment of tension, and each inhale was a shaky and somewhat choked sob.


    ¡°Listen, you¡¯ll be okay - just uhm, stay here. Typhon¡¯s holding a meeting, your world is pretty big, so the city will maybe empty out.¡± She spoke, quick and without pause for questions, and gave me a quick hug. I was limp in her grasp as she did so, unable to return it.


    Part of me knew that if I did, I may not let go. Another part heeded the warning of her mother, and didn¡¯t put it past the woman to have eyes in the back of her head. As Peyton let go, I choked back another sob, and gave her a nod. She¡¯d come back.


    I wouldn¡¯t be here. The unfortunate truth was that I simply couldn¡¯t wait for her, with my mother and brother out and about, and didn¡¯t put it past her or her mother to lock me inside if I made that clear. I instead smiled despite myself, for her sake as well as my own.


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll be waiting.¡± I spoke, and didn¡¯t do well at convincing myself, but Peyton seemed to be. She nodded, and gave me that heart wrenching full toothed smile once more, and ran to follow her mother.


    Not so much as a fleeting glance as the two closed the door on the way out.


    ¡°Just hold out a little longer Noah, I¡¯m coming to get you both.¡± I spoke out loud to no-one, and turned to gather what I could to get ready for a suicide mission.

 Arc 1.3

    The next few hours were spent in a blur of trying to manage bodily needs, and figure out what I needed to do to not die out there. I was constantly reminded of the figure of the Centaur, drawn back and ready to strike, yet that was a fear that was overshadowed by the image of my family being at the receiving end of such a creature, not myself. Checking my phone lead me to find it was shattered entirely from falling from my wheelchair, and it meant I couldn¡¯t call home to warn anyone, and I worried for my mother, though not so much my brother. My brother could survive on his own. I knew that much.


    Noah was resourceful, he was smart, he was brave when he needed to be, and most of all he was a survivor. I thought back to when my dad died, and how he pieced us back together as my mother slowly lost her mind. Despite being the older of the two I had been in no shape to take care of them, between surgeries and doctor visits and grieving and trauma, Noah had cooked, cleaned, done the laundry, and made sure I always had a ride to my visits through his friends, his friends parents, our family, or by taking the bus with me.


    To say he was our little hero was an understatement.


    Despite that, I knew he couldn¡¯t survive this trying to take care of our mom as well. Our mother was dead weight that he couldn¡¯t carry around, even if he got one of my old junk wheel chairs to push her. Centaurs and who knew what else would be on them quicker than he could possibly run. It left me with few options, but I also knew I couldn¡¯t rush, and I had to be prepared in a way that I wasn¡¯t now.


    The back room of the club was fortunate in that it had a few things. Many changing rooms lay across the far wall, with either side having an entrance to a bathroom-shower area that I made good use of, knowing it would be my last chance for a good one, washing the dirt and smoke from my hair and sweat and blood from my body. The blood surprised me. I hadn¡¯t felt any scrapes, but I supposed I hadn¡¯t felt much of any pain, even when running through flames.


    The unfortunate side effect of that was that my hair certainly felt it. After the shower it was unmanageable, the burned portions causing knots and tangles that were impossible to get out with my fingers, and after surveying the room and make up stations, I found a pair of scissors and a comb.


    ¡°Okay, how hard could it be.¡± I muttered, glaring at my reflection. The tangles of curly brown-black hair were a mess of char and singed places, and it made me almost indecipherable. I loved my hair, I¡¯d always let it grow out, and my dad loved my hair too. I knew I got the curls from him, where I got the pale skin from my mother, and that made me all the more fond of keeping my hair grown out.


    ¡°Enough stalling.¡±


    I muttered to myself again, having stared at my own reflection for too long, and got to work with the snipping. It turned out that cutting my own hair was harder than I¡¯d originally considered.


    Each snip caused a piece to be lost, each cut of a tangle revealing that I¡¯d cut far too short, or at a weird angle, slowly butchering what had once been my only redeeming feature. After too long of trying to get it even, I was left with a short mop of hair, well above my shoulders. It was still a mess, but less of a mess than before, yet I couldn¡¯t help but feel the sting of tears while staring at my reflection.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I doubt the gigantic Dragon¡¯s or Wizard¡¯s or other Witches or Vampire¡¯s are gonna laugh at you. Short hair¡¯s in with the Necromancers and spider people. Frick, I hope there¡¯s no spider people.¡± I was talking to myself to keep calm, needing to fill the silence with anything. I got back dressed after that, raided the mini fridge, found some frozen pizza¡¯s, microwaved them, ate too much and too many crackers, drank my belly bloated with water, and then raided the gift section back in the front of the club.


    Who needed gifts from a strip club was beyond me, but I¡¯d take it.


    There were fortunately a lot of things that could be useful, ignoring the lewd fish plastered across them. Gigantic water bottles and back packs bags made of cheap nylon were two that I appreciated the most. I filled several water bottles, assuming that clean water would be a luxury during the end of the world, and stuffed them in the bag. Fluorescent bracelets by the handfuls, along with glow sticks, candy bars and snack packs from the bar, a multitool pocket knife with the clubs logo, and other odds and ends were stuffed into the bag, until I felt like I had a fair stash of trinkets that were either going to be incredibly useful, or completely useless.


    I couldn¡¯t decide.


    The back room was pilfered as well, and I found a few extra things. Clothes that I would be hesitant on wearing, a first aid kit, a set of keys to hopefully the building, with a key fob to a car that I wasn¡¯t willing to risk trying to drive now, even if I could find it, a nice looking watch so I could keep track of the time, and a gun. Seeing it brought me to a pause.


    It was sleek black metal with a silver top half, that it was handgun was all I knew about it, and I was surprised at how small it was, and how little it weighed. It was larger than my hand, sure, but it was certainly smaller than I¡¯d seen on television. Part of me wanted to leave it, just out of fear of actually needing to use the weapon, and another part of me knew I had to defend myself, the rational part. The rational part took its victory.


    I awkwardly tried stuffing the gun into my waist band, but it didn¡¯t feel secure, so I grabbed one of the spare hoodies, yellow and too perfumed for my liking, left by a worker, and threw it on. I stuffed the gun into the hoodies pocket, picked up both of my bags, and awkwardly pulled one on, and opted to carry the other in my hand. I was overloaded with items but neither felt heavy, and certainly didn¡¯t slow me down.


    ¡°This is it, I¡¯ve got this. Unless I wanna get drunk, I think I¡¯m good, and I don¡¯t wanna try to make any of those Molotov thingies I see people use in movies. I¡¯d probably burn myself. Or worse.¡± There was nothing keeping me here anymore, but a pep talk didn¡¯t hurt. The safety of the building had been assured to me by Peyton, sure, but it wasn¡¯t something that I wanted to rely on, and my family took precedent. If the military came through for evacuation, or even started bombing the city, I doubted the place would hold up well anyways, or I¡¯d miss my escape entirely.


    I jogged to the front door, tried the handle, and found relief that I wasn¡¯t locked in, and opened the door to peek out. The blue hue the city had been cast in was gone, and it was now raining rather heavily, but even that couldn¡¯t wash the smell of smoke away. If I¡¯d only slept six hours, and spent two mucking around inside, then it was eight hours into the invasion at most, and I¡¯d hoped it¡¯d been centralized for that entire time. If it had spread to my neighborhood already, then I¡¯d be too late.


    I stepped out and shut the door behind me, making sure it was locked despite the privacy. The stairs were taken two at a time, and when I glanced back at the top, the entire staircase was missing. It¡¯d been covered by the concrete once more, and the illusion wasn¡¯t going to be broken by anyone who didn¡¯t know it was there already. I tested a foot, watched as it disappeared under the concrete, and quickly pulled out a glow stick. I left it at the top of the stairs so I could find the place again, if I ever needed to do so.


    Optimistically, I wouldn¡¯t need to. The blanket of rain was something of a blessing I was finding, as I moved away from the alleyway and out to the streets. The destruction was far worse than it had been when we ran through the street.


    Cars were flipped entirely over, some completely in half, where one had seemingly been thrown and embedded into the upper portion of a taller building, haphazardly dangling out with every promise to fall. Lower down, the wall was completely decimated, and carved a path through several buildings where something, or someone, had been dragged along the brick and concrete. The ground was caved in at too many places, making it dangerous to step, and fire hydrants all around were still spewing water, adding to the rain to flood the streets and fill the many holes left behind.


    There were bodies, too. Not as many as I¡¯d expected, admittedly, but the ones that were there were in various states of destroyed. Smashed or cleaved, ruined and broken. My gaze fell on a body against a wall that was missing its torso, and where it should have been was a red splatter on the brick behind it instead. I gagged at the sight, and doubled over to wretch.


    Fortunately, the street other than the corpses seemed to be uninhabited. There was the sound of rumblings in distant parts of the city, but I took that as a sign that this area was safer than the rest, now that it had been effectively cleared out. There had to be stragglers, survivors like me, but looking into windows of buildings overhead, I didn¡¯t see much. It was a ghost city, and the ghosts had only just left their bodies.


    I gulped, and quickly started moving down the sidewalk. If anything would be out there, I¡¯d at least have lots of cover, and while obstacles presented themselves, like a downed section of wall or chunks of twisted metal from a nearby car, I didn¡¯t find too much trouble navigating the section. Not that I¡¯d ever been through this part of the city like this on a normal day, but it wasn¡¯t too hard to guess where I was.


    That vague awareness of where I was would hopefully leave me home. I¡¯d never been down the sidewalks, but I¡¯d seen this area on buses or in car rides through the city with my mom or dad, so I wasn¡¯t completely lost. If I kept going west, at least at my best approximation of west, I¡¯d start seeing more recognizable things that would lead me home. If home even still stood.


    Needing to pick up speed was a weird feeling when I was so used to a casual pace that my wheelchair automatically set for me. Before long of walking, I had crept into a slight jog, and then into a run, finding my lungs were not exploding with effort, and that my legs were more than capable of the effort. Each step was almost exhilarating, if I ignored the dead city, and the explosions that I heard off in the distance. Ahead of me was a downed truck, flipped onto its side, and I ran right at it.


    One hand hoisted me up and over, and I slide across the door and closed window, and over to the other side of my obstacle, before breaking back into a run without ever halting momentum. I was strong, and that was incredibly strange. Something like that, even when I could walk, would¡¯ve left me on my ass, but I was different now, and those changes had to be explored. I built up more momentum as I ran.


    Further down the street was a downed road side, at the corner of an inter section, and without worry of traffic I sped up to what felt like a rough approximation of my max speed. The world moved past me in a blur, and I wondered just how fast I was moving, and the approach to the down signed was a short one. As I approached it, I lept.


    The movement put me further into the air than I expected, I was at least four feet off of the ground, and my forward momentum was carried through, and I was moving. I¡¯d expected to clear the entire thing, and part of the street, yet miscalculations were made. As I was to sail over the downed sign, my foot clipped it, and that arrested my momentum.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I went face down and slid in a puddle, tumbling over the pole of the sign.


    ¡°Owwww.¡± I muttered in defeat, one of my bags having left my grip to tumble a good distance away. Defeated, I lay in the puddle, embarrassed at myself and the failure, and before long I was able to file away the shame, and check myself for scrapes or cuts.


    Nothing. Where my hands had hit the pavement, they were fine. Even the pain of tumbling and landing at such a weird angle had left as quickly as it had appeared.


    ¡°Okay so I¡¯m faster, and I don¡¯t get hurt as easily I guess. Stronger too, maybe, those bags weren¡¯t quite heavy though.¡± I spoke to myself, as I climbed out of the puddle. An idea had struck me while doing so.


    The downed sign that I had tripped over. Its logo at the top was one for a gas station that sat in ruins to my left now, while the metal pole was easily fifteen feet tall, if not more, and it had to be made of all metal. I walked over while dusting off my hands, and put both of them beneath the pole.


    I hefted.


    It was hard at first, my body straining with the awkward angle, and that all of the weight was on one side, but fortunately the entirety of the sign was still anchored partly into the ground at its body. My body flexed, and I felt that warmth inside of my chest spread into my arms, and before long the strain of metal filled the air.


    Checking to my right, the end of the sign had been slightly lifted off of the ground and my theory was clearly correct. I was stronger. I didn¡¯t have a good gauge for how heavy the sign was, and I gently set it back down, before feeling the warmth spread away from my arms and back to that unknown space in my chest. It was less of a warmth now.


    It wasn¡¯t like before, when we ran away from the city and its doom, but I¡¯d lost a little bit of that warmth in picking up the sign. It was leading me to an obvious conclusion, but one my monkey brain balked at the reality of. Magic. Peyton had dropped that line prior, mentioning magic, and mana. I thought back to her words.


    Your world has been bereft of mana.


    That was how she explained it. She explained it was how my legs worked, among other things, she¡¯d mentioned a mana generator in the club, and now magical creatures were running amok in my city. I ran faster, I was durable, my disability healed, and I could lift up a sign larger than me several times over. It was all thanks to magic.


    I wanted to explore that more, but I was on a tight schedule, and had no idea when another monster would make itself known. Fetching my bag, I started running again, and splashing through puddles as I made my way west. It was fortunate that highway two-ninety went straight through the city, meaning most roads did as well. I could run parallel with it, and as long as I could keep myself roughly oriented with it, I could find home.


    Unfortunately Chicago was a rather large city, meaning that I had further to run than I¡¯d like, and I was also fortunate in that fact, and was counting it more as a blessing. Subjugating the entirety of it would probably take them some time, and they were likely fanning out. I had no idea how many people were in the invasion, but it seemed that the origin point was further down in the city, closer to Sherman Park than it had been to us. I assumed we only got the dredges, the outer most layer of the invasion, and that didn¡¯t make me feel any better.


    It also meant they were spreading out in a rough circle. With the lake to the east, that mean they could only spread west, and they had eight hours of progress on me. If the military were going to intervene, it meant that they would be coming from the west or south, and would take most of the attention. If I were to guess, that¡¯s where the big forces would be. Centaur¡¯s that could heft cars may be able to do the same to tanks, and Dragon¡¯s would take down tanks.


    Admittedly, that was optimistic, and only slightly made sense. I didn¡¯t fully know what they wanted with our world, much less how they were likely to organize defenses, and if they would even be scared of a human army. In the most gun heavy part of the world, they¡¯d manage to do this much damage to our city, and do it so quickly. Throw in magic, and I doubted we could fight back.


    ¡°Gigi! This area is cleared out, Lord Aifleial! The Human¡¯s have gone into hiding, or have escaped!¡± Around a corner, a voice shrieked. It was loud, and with a giggled cadence, and I hit the brakes hard. My feet skidding in the puddles, and my shoes took the brunt of the stop, as I managed to not fumble past the building corner and reveal myself. Instantly I threw my back to it, and peeked around.


    Six creatures, surrounding a even shorter one. The majority of the creatures were weird little things, somewhere between ape¡¯s and monkey¡¯s, but without hair and all were a very vibrant yellow. They were muscular, sure, but they were muscular in a goofy way. In the middle of them were Human¡¯s. Fourteen, three of which were children, all tied up in a tight circle. The kids were crying, the men were beat unconscious, and the women were putting on a brave face.


    The ring leader caught my attention most. He was very human, but was the size of a child. Short, without muscle, with a face that was more hair than it was flesh. His eyebrow¡¯s were bushy from the one side of his face I could see, his beard was thick and scraggly, and his hair was swept back and receding at the edges. He stood shirtless, proud, covered in tattoo¡¯s, and I noted two heavy wounds on his back that sat between the shoulder blades, not bleeding but fleshy and throbbing.


    ¡°Good, good. We can¡¯t let them figure out their magic. Did the men show any sign of possessing abnormal abilities?¡± The ring leader asked, and despite his size his voice was large and booming, shaking the windows of the building I hid behind.


    ¡°Yes sir! Two did, this one and this one. His muscles swelled up, and it took all of us to take him down sir.¡± One of the ape creatures walked forward, and kicked the most elderly seeming of their captive¡¯s. Then he walked over and kicked a young girl, five years old, with too much blood across her face to make out much about her. She sobbed loudly as she was kicked, and the creature made a face that only made her cry louder.


    ¡°What could she do?¡± The ring leader spoke.


    ¡°Water manipulation, sir. She made the rain turn into needles that stabbed at us. Flesh wounds, but a few blinded Lefray, sir!¡± The creature responded. Lefray was sitting at the back of the little group, and very much didn¡¯t look blind to me, but he certain had blood on his face.


    ¡°I see. Kill the man, take the girl, burn the rest.¡± The ring leader gave a demand, and the creatures moved as a unit. The blinded one moved towards the little girl.


    My heart jumped to my throat, and I felt that warmth in my chest suddenly expand with the rush of adrenaline. They were about to kill children, and abduct one. That thought made me start shivering hard, and it had nothing to do with the cold of the rain. I had to act.


    Into the pocket of the hoodie, I drew the handgun. After seeing what I¡¯d seen, at the outset of the invasion, I doubted the bullets would do much. Without the knowledge of how many I had loaded as well, I couldn¡¯t be sure I could even kill all of them if somehow every shot was with perfect aim, and I certainly didn¡¯t have perfect aim.


    My dad was a baseball father, not a hunting for sport kind. I¡¯d never held a gun before today, much less learned how to use one.


    Despite that, I was forming a plan that I was almost positive would get me killed. As the creatures turned their attention from their leader to the group of people they¡¯d gathered, the man had his back to me. My previous lifting of the sign gave me something of a indication of what to go off of, but I was flying blind.


    The warmth in my chest hit an all time high, and I focused on my legs. Nothing happened for long, painful moments, until I heard one of the women shriek and start screaming for help, and then it moved. Down, through my body, and into my legs, the warmth settled and caused my muscles to all seem to tense.


    I moved the second I felt it settle.


    I was fast, and I was loud, but the element of surprise was on my side. I managed to reach the leader of the group in almost no time, and as he started to react, my hand caught the back of his neck, and my other put the gun to the side of his head. He stopped moving, and I shouted.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡±


    The man listened, as did his creatures. They all stopped their approach on the humans, the screaming woman looking towards me with hope in her eyes as one had its claws inches from its throat. They seemed frozen, and as confused as I had felt all day, while their leader seemed to stay a relative calm despite being captured.


    ¡°You lot step away from them or I¡¯m gonna paint the ground with his brains!¡± I yelled, and cringed inside. It wasn¡¯t nearly as cool coming out of my shaky throat as it was in my head.


    Yet they listened.


    Each of the creatures scurried back, seeming to gather in a huddle as they sized me up. They stared at the gun more than me, and I realized they didn¡¯t know what it was. I could use that to my advantage too, I figured.


    ¡°Okay girl, you have me. Now what?¡± The leader chuckled in my grip, and I roughly pushed the gun against his temple, which made him scowl. ¡°Child, unless that weapon is filled with magic, it¡¯s not going to do much to me.¡±


    I needed to lie. I didn¡¯t know if he was telling the truth, and he seemed to be gaining the upper hand almost immediately, while his minion¡¯s all abruptly grinning toothy grins as they gave hyena like hoots of laughter.


    ¡°Silver bullets.¡± I blurted out, and the ape-creatures stopped laughing. They looked to their leader now, and from where I stood I saw him pause. It was fiction, from text books and fairytale, but I hoped after meeting Vampire¡¯s and whatever the fuck these things were, that it¡¯d also hold some truth.


    ¡°Silver. You¡¯re a hunter then? We figured there weren¡¯t many more of your kind left on Terra. What family do you hail from, young archer?¡± The leader spoke, and I jabbed him with the gun again.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know?¡± I had to go with it, even though I had zero clue of what he was talking about. The silver bullets were already such a huge bluff that I couldn¡¯t offer up another one, for fear of being caught in a lie. ¡°Not an archer either, these are bullets not arrows.¡±


    ¡°The difference?¡± He grumbled.


    ¡°An arrow moves about five times slower and can¡¯t punch through solid steel.¡± Another lie I gave him, a smaller one he couldn¡¯t fact check. I had little doubt that my tiny gun could actually do that much damage, but it was for the sake of compound interest. If he was worried at all about silver arrows, then scaling up a bullet may put actual fear in him.


    ¡°I see.¡± He spoke, and chuckled again. The tone was different this time, and his creatures didn¡¯t laugh now. ¡°You¡¯ve caught me with my pants down then, little hunter. If I were in my true form, you would not be managing this.¡±


    His words carried power. I noticed that each time he spoke, the air vibrated, and seemed to fill with the same sensation of the blue glow of the city prior. My brain made the connection immediately. He was so powerful that even his worlds had magic in them?


    ¡°Well Aifleial, here¡¯s the plan. You¡¯re going to order Lefray there to untie those people, then tie up his friends. Then you¡¯re going to go lay down in the mud over there, away from us. My family will be here soon, and my dad is one hell of a hunter.¡± I lied again.


    He nodded, though scrunched up his face when I called him his name.


    For the most part, the creatures did what they were told. The human¡¯s were untied, but they didn¡¯t dare move, and the creatures were grumpily herded and wrapped in the rope. I doubted it would do much after seeing a Centaur throw a car, but I hoped it¡¯d slow them down. Lefray, the one that had been blinded, seemed to be confused as to what to do once he was done.


    I ignored him. Better to let it stand there awkwardly than to try to order it away. Too many moving pieces, I needed these people to have an escape route.


    ¡°Kneel.¡± I told Aifleial, and he did so. Once on his knee¡¯s, I was able to push him down into the mud, and step back. The whole time I kept my gun trained on the back of his head. When I glanced up, the group of human¡¯s were standing, and two were supporting the elderly man whose skin seemed to sag on his form, on closer inspection.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± The woman spoke, and I nodded.


    ¡°You should- go North. Their army is spreading out across the city, and I¡¯m hoping they¡¯ll be more west and south than north, preparing for the military. If you can get out of the city, go as far north as you can, try to get past Green Bay if you can find a car, and stay near the water, boats might be safer now.¡± I was making too many guesses, putting these peoples lives in jeopardy. I didn¡¯t have any better options, and having them tag along would slow me down, especially once we tried to leave, and I felt they would flounder without proper hope.


    ¡°O-Of course, thank you really.¡± The woman hesitated. The little girl with them was staring at me, blood on her face still, as she seemed troubled, like she wanted to say something. Instead she nodded, and the group began moving, giving Lefray and his group a wide berth. I kept the gun trained on Aifleial until they were gone, and then for a bit longer after that.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to walk backwards now. Remember, these bullets travel fast. Put a little magic in them, they travel faster.¡± I bluffed again. Aifleial stayed silent, as I walked backwards towards the street, my hand now shaking as the cold of the rain managed to completely numb it, but I didn¡¯t dare take my gun off of him.


    Now was the make or break it moment. As I made it to the buildings edge, I saw the man shift, and I turned and ran, and put everything I had into running, filling my legs with warmth and my body with a fresh dose of adrenaline.


    Behind me I could hear Aifleial shout. The chase was on.

 Arc 1.4

    Somethings you have to do, just to be a good person. The bare minimum required to be considered a Human, in fact. This was one of those things. I suddenly wished I weren¡¯t Human.


    The howls met my ear shortly after Aifleial shouted. He was loud, and not even the pounding rain could mask the cadence. Rage. I imagined spittle flying out of his mouth, his face red, embarrassed, ashamed. I¡¯d gotten a jump on him, a mere Human, and he wanted his ounce of disrespect to be paid with a pound of flesh.


    The average Human could probably run fifteen miles an hour in a short sprint. The fastest man alive could run nearly thirty. I was somewhere in the middle, but it was a maintained sprint, not a short burst. My legs moved with a speed I wasn¡¯t used to, and the rain in my eyes only blurred the edges of my vision further. The average speed of a monster was unknown to me, but glancing back it was on the higher end of thirty. The creatures were already gaining distance, and the rope hadn¡¯t impeded them at all.¡¯


    Four of the creatures I counted as I glanced back. That meant the leader of the little group, and two others were unaccounted for. I assumed one of the two was the one that had been blinded, so it meant I had four healthy ape-goblin¡¯s chasing me down. One of them scaled along the side of the wall, and was only slightly slower than the one¡¯s that galloped after me.


    One of the ground ones hit a car shoulder first, and flipped it entirely over its form. I decided to look ahead after that.


    They were stronger than they were stupid, and faster than they were small. It meant I had no hope of actually out running them.


    My feet pounded the ground as I tried to speed up. The warmth in my body was in full effect, mana, I had to remind myself, and was being drained with the effort. It was a slow drain, one that wasn¡¯t quite tanking my reserves, but it meant that eventually I would run out. Leaps in logic were necessary in order to define the warmth, and my physical condition, but I assumed that as it drained, I would grow more tired, my breathing wouldn¡¯t be so regulated, my body would begin to ache, and the rain would feel much colder.


    The creature¡¯s would catch up when that started to happen.


    My sprint through the street and down the road was still keeping distance, but they were gaining. I heard a window shatter to my right, and ducked down instinctively, feeling a similar heat to that mana in my chest coming towards my right.


    One of the goblin¡¯s, the wall crawler, had sped up and managed to be parallel to me, and had made a leap to grab me. The duck was fortunately timed, and it sailed over my head to crash into a car off to my left, and the whole thing tilted to flip onto its side. Metal caved in around the little beast, and I doubted it had even been hurt. Dazed, hopefully, but certainly not hurt.


    I could feel them behind me now, a bundle of warmth, three dots in the back of my mind as if I could see behind me. Each one moved with its own rhythm, the heats all vastly different from mine, and varying in intensity. The one in the front was the fastest, and that meant his fire burned hottest, while the ones behind him were varying degree¡¯s lower. The one that tried to tackle me roughly matched him.


    I turned. It was too late to keep running, and I doubted any help was on my way, so there was only one real way out. My leg hitched as I turned, and the creature barreled forward at me with too much momentum to stop before my attack. I focused warmth- mana into that leg, and then kicked it as hard as I could, with as much strength as the leg and my body could stand.


    The crunch was very audible. The creature¡¯s momentum was entirely arrested by my leg, and I could feel the muscle of its form cave around my knee and upper shin, and I followed through, extending my leg out. The creature flew.


    The height it gained was impressive, and the distance it traveled more-so, the creature careening through the air, to crash and slide on the pavement in between his two followers. The fourth of the creatures had managed to wedge itself out from the car, and joined them.


    ¡°Alright, come on. One at a time preferably.¡± I laughed, my voice quivering, and pointed my gun at the creatures. To say I was afraid was an understatement, I probably could¡¯ve pissed my pants out of fear if it weren¡¯t for the adrenaline, and the need to spare my dignity. Not that it would¡¯ve mattered. I was soaked through, and that kick had shaved off a good chunk of the warmth, and now I was feeling the faintest edges of the cold in the air, and it would¡¯ve made me shiver, if not for that fact that I already was.


    Adrenaline. I was drunk on it, from saving those people, and from running for my life, adrenaline had made a cocktail of unfamiliar feelings run through my body. I felt strong, and terribly scared. I wanted to fight, and run at the same time.


    ¡°Gregroi! Get up!¡± One of the creatures, the one that hit the car, pulled his brother up. I could hear the little creature gasping for air, and almost felt bad, but that cleared when I saw it rise to its feet. It had hate in its eyes, and a want to kill, no matter how hurt it was. Maybe I broke its collarbone, or caved in a lung, or something that would impede it. It grinned, and suddenly I doubted that though.


    The first of the two creatures dashed. They came at me like hounds, and I pointed the gun, and pulled the trigger. The trigger didn¡¯t budge, which confused me, until I remembered the safety on the gun. By the time I flipped it down, it was too late.


    One of the creatures swiped at my hand, and knocked the gun out of it, leading it to clatter to the ground and slide across the slick pavement. The other hit me, hard, head first in the stomach, and I instinctively let go of the bag in my hand. The air left my body instantly as I was sent flying back. Not falling, flying.


    I may have been knocked four feet through the air from the hit, and it left me rolling in the middle of the road as the rough landing left me stunned.


    More warmth gone, enough for my fingers to feel cold from the rain. If not for mana, I might have been left unconscious just from that one hit, and it made me not want to get hit ever again. I didn¡¯t have the luxury of that option, however.


    One of the creatures, the car one, had jumped the moment I landed. Over its brothers, and through the air, I was noting it was more acrobatic than the other three, his hands shaped into claws as he fell towards me. My elbow hitched into the ground, and I rolled myself out of the way, managing to avoid him crashing right on top of me.


    As his claws made contact with the ground, I heard the sound of the pavement cracking.


    ¡°Reheh! You can¡¯t run forever girl!¡± It said, rising. It¡¯s words were mocking, and I matched it by standing up and shrugging my bag off of my back. It glared at me, and its brothers started stalking forward. I had to beat all four, I was realizing. The odd¡¯s were not in my favor.


    As the acrobatic one moved forward, I matched it again. There was no combat training in my past, my dad and I used to play box, but it was all just messing around, so I didn¡¯t know the right form or how to throw a punch other than to not wrap my fingers around my thumb. The bare basics, if one could consider it that.


    I did however, have mana on my side. As I moved in, I focused warmth into my arm, and the creature swiped. His outer claws hit my shirt, sliced through my clothes and into flesh, as I brought the fist down into his skull. It made a resounding thud, and we both stumbled back, with its brothers pausing.


    I grimaced. My shirt was shredded across my belly, and the skin underneath didn¡¯t look much better. It was a flesh wound, and I realized my mistake immediately. Too much mana had been focused into my attack, and I left little for defense. Had I of had nothing left in the tank, he may have exposed my guts to me, and after the punch the mana had rushed back to the site of the wound.


    Warmth filled my belly, and the blood flow was staunched. The little creature was left staggering, and fell onto his bum. I hoped that was a concussion he was dealing with, but I wasn¡¯t sure if I hit him hard enough for that.


    Okay you can¡¯t put everything into your attacks. You need defense too, spare some of that warmth for protecting yourself. It¡¯s better to over do it than under do it. Keep some in my legs as well so I have leverage, and I¡¯m steady.


    I was learning on the fly. Figuring out magic wasn¡¯t easy, I was finding out. The warmth didn¡¯t necessarily react to my thoughts, rather my emotions, and what I felt I needed in the moment. Spreading it out took a concerted effort, but eventually my whole body felt warm, and I had more warmth in my chest than anywhere else. The next two creatures made their move, while the third focused on his brother.


    Car-crash and Soccer-ball. The one I had kicked was furious, and I made the decision to focus on him as they moved. Soccer-ball rushed me, his movements heavy and sluggish from his previous injury, while his brother went for a flank. Two heavy swings of his claws were made my way, and I moved backwards, just out of their range, while feeling the dull throb in my belly. More warmth was sent there, I needed to ignore the pain. The third strike lingered just too long in the air, and I grabbed his wrist.


    As Car-crash moved in with a leap, I swung his buddy up and off of the ground at him. The slam wasn¡¯t as hard as I had wanted, I couldn¡¯t go from no momentum to full swing as fast as I¡¯d liked, but it knocked him out of the air as they both yelped. The went down in a tangle of confusion and fighting as I let go, while I immediately turned and dashed down the road.


    I wanted for my gun. As I moved, I could hear them shout something, and felt movement to my side. Too fast, too sudden. The third brother, who I was dubbing Worry-wart, was now on me. He hit me hard, with a full body tackle, and flung me away from the gun that I had been feet away from snatching up. The pavement hit harder this time, with the warmth spread so evenly to my body. Without the reactionary protection, it hurt more to be hit by Worry-wart, and by the ground, but it was less than if I had no mana at all.


    He was on top of me in seconds. The creature straddled me with a loud laugh, and begin slashing for my face, and I thrust my arms up to protect it as his claws cut into my bare arms. Each cut was shallow, thanks to warmth rushing to protect them, but it was a constant assault that was wearing me down. Warmth slipped away. The ground now felt cold beneath me.


    As he clawed at my warms, my warmth protected me again. Each cut was shallow, but compiling, and I knew I had to act fast. Slowly, I pushed up against the flurry of claws, sitting up inch by inch until I found leverage. I grabbed both of the arms as fast as I could, and brought myself forward and him back.


    It took a lot of effort but I was able to get him to the ground after a scuffle, keeping his arms held tightly so he couldn¡¯t try clawing me again. It wasn¡¯t a favorable position, my knee on the ground between his legs, and the other at the side of his left, but it kept him from continuing to gore my now crimson arms. It was hurting a lot more now, both my arms and my stomach.


    ¡°You little bitch, I¡¯ll kill you-¡° I didn¡¯t care what he had to say. Hauling up, I was able to lift him off of the ground by his tensed arms, before I slammed him back down with as much strength as my body could manage. That took the wind out of him, and shut the little bastard up. I did it twice more, then another three times, slamming him until I felt his arms start to go slack.


    I huffed breath, and stood as I saw the other two were coming my way.


    I¡¯m so tired.


    For a moment, I thought about giving up. The warmth had dwindled, and I didn¡¯t have enough to spare for the entirety of my body, and now I was cold. Both in a literal sense, with the rain chilling my core, and a metaphorical sense, where that core was truly emptying.


    I though about my mother, and her being left alone. Noah could be dead, and she could be there, confused, lost. On good days she kind of recognized us. On bad days, she didn¡¯t know us at all. What would she do if Noah were killed, and a group of these freaky little ape-goblins were to surround her? She¡¯d be mortified. They¡¯d maul her, and she¡¯d be defenseless.


    The little warmth sparked in my chest, and it was enough to get me moving again. I dove. Across the puddles, over my defeated little foe, and onto the pavement, I hit a slide across the ground and managed to grab my gun as the two were on me. Safety off, a turn and an aim, I fired.


    Four shots I unloaded into the closest creature. The gun was small, and I had little hope it¡¯d kill, and even the recoil felt non-existent, though it was still loud. It seemed to shudder and go still, the bullets having gouged into its chest cavity. I recognized it as Soccer-ball, the one I kicked early. It had distinctive floppier ears, and a bruise across its chest, and now bullet holes in them.


    He dropped with a gurgling noise, and lay on the ground, while his friend stared at me with fear. I had little doubt that he was dead, but I aimed the gun at his friend, who shrieked something. May it was a plea. I didn¡¯t much care, numb and cold and tired and hurting. I pulled the trigger at least twenty more times, but the gun only fired three.


    He too dropped. My warmth was gone with the gun shots. Had the bullets been imbued with some of the warmth? Did me just holding it make the gun more deadly? I didn¡¯t care. I flopped back, and laughed, laying on my back with exhaustion and pain. I¡¯d won, or at least had a close approximation to victory. Three were wounded in the puddle.


    The fourth was moving.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    My head lolled to the side, into a staining red puddle, and I saw him staggering. Knock-out, I nicknamed him uselessly, the one I had punched before. He had a nasty bruise on his forehead. I¡¯d forgotten one, and the punch hadn¡¯t put him down for the count. The nasty little creature staggered over, grinning ear to ear, his pointed, filthy, slobber covered yellowed teeth filling my vision.


    I heard a crunch behind him.


    ¡°You will not take this kill from me.¡± Aifleial was behind him. The little creature now sported wings, large and raven with points along the outer edges of the wings, and each feather seemed more metallic than anything else. His tattoo¡¯s had changed orientation since I saw him, I noted. He seemed a little larger, but not by much, and he seemed more angry than before. ¡°You managed to defeat three of my charges? Fascinating. Maybe you are the Hunter you claim to be, or maybe you¡¯re just a lucky fool.¡±


    His voice was deep, gravely and loud, each word vibrating my skull. Everything was a little foggy now, I realized. I was losing more blood, and was cold. The rain shouldn¡¯t have been this cold, this time of year. Magic stuff, I filed it under.


    ¡°A warrior like you is a rarity among your kind, if you¡¯re truly no Hunter. Your back up never arrived. Braving four Kobaloi is something few can do - they¡¯re nasty little fuckers. I brought them with me specifically because of that. They¡¯re weakened like me, sure, but they should be able to handle ten of your kind a piece.¡± Aifleial was standing over me now, and I couldn¡¯t respond. The man was praising me, and I felt no pride in the accomplishment. I hadn¡¯t won. There was no victory here. I was more angry that one got away, than the fact that I was going to die here. That was a weird thought in and of itself, and he seemed to be able to read my mind.


    ¡°You¡¯re not happy.¡± He spoke.


    Obviously I¡¯m not happy you little shit. One got away, look at him, all smug and arrogant. I should¡¯ve hit him harder.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill all of them.¡± I muttered to him, and was surprised at how tired I was. My voice sounded weaker than I felt.


    The lord paused, and then grinned ear to ear, laughing loudly. It was uproarious, the man was doubled over despite himself, wings that were too heavy for his little form threatening to tip him over.


    He laughed for a long time, and I could only listen.


    ¡°Yes little human. May I give you a parting gift. I have no use for failures. May you die knowing your actions lead to the defeat of all four of my charges.¡± He raised his hand to Knock-out, who was staring wide eyed at his master.


    Light. Warmth.


    Raw and unfiltered poured from the digits of the little lord. The wave of it, a solid beam in fact, covered Knock-out, engulfing him in heat and flame and warmth and the glow of black mana, and his screams were drowned out by the ocean-like noises of the attack, and of the pounding rain. Seconds later, the light vanished, leaving only a charred mark on the ground that steamed in the rain and cold.


    ¡°You¡¯re responsible for the death of two now, and the injuring of two more. May you find peace with that much.¡± His digits raised towards me now, and the lord seemed amused.


    I wasn¡¯t happy with just two, but I smiled and gave him the tiniest nods. The digits glowed with the flexing of his hand, and he was going to give me the same death that he gave the little creature. It was a powerful death. I was only not noticing how warm the man was, how much power he held in that little form, and how the tattoo¡¯s were like bindings, restricting that warmth in a hug of flesh.


    My eyes closed, and I was ready for death to come.


    Seconds passed, and I didn¡¯t feel anything. I reasoned I was too numb, my chest too hollow and empty. I felt a shadow over me, and heard the grunt of the little man. Effort was needed to open my eyes again, but when I did I was washed over with relief.


    Aifleial was being held. His attacker was a gray haired man, larger and muscular, easily dwarfing even some of the larger body builders I¡¯d seen. His hair was peppered with gray, and he was old, but I couldn¡¯t easily tell it on a glance. It was a power struggle to keep Aifleial held back, the little man flapping his overly large wings for leverage, and I could see the older timer was wounded. He had bruises and cuts all over his body.


    Above me, was a much smaller figure. Without the blood on her face, I almost didn¡¯t recognize her from before. Small, younger than me by half, and missing most of her teeth, was the small girl from the group before. Raven haired, and as drenched by the rain as I was, she was shivering, but was hovering over me protectively.


    ¡°I see two wasn¡¯t enough to deal with you disgusting humans!¡± Aifleial roared, and twisted, trying to break free of the old man, and for some reason he seemed fearful. In my eyes it was a stalemate, I didn¡¯t know what he thought would happen.


    ¡°They got most of us, but I wasn¡¯t going to let that young lady over there die.¡± The old man grunted, and grinned a grin of death, as he kept the lord still. His muscles were coils of wire-like masses, the skin stretched top the point of looking unnatural, his power flowing. The old man was a beacon of warmth.


    The little girl was similar.


    She had her arms extended over my form, and I was confused on what she was doing. The digits were splayed, pointed directly at Aifleial, and I only now noticed he was staring at the girl with wide eyes. The rain had stopped.


    No, that was wrong. It had stopped around us, and was now floating. Each droplet had still been there, floating in empty space, each one angled to be stretched and thin, and all pointed towards Aifleial. More were gathering too, before long.


    ¡°Hurry up, Ella!¡± The old man roared, as Aifleial kicked it into a higher gear. His tattoo¡¯s squirmed, and the man wretched, this time moving the elderly muscle-man with his strength.


    ¡°A little longer!¡± The little girl, Ella, yelled.


    I wanted to help them, but the tank was empty. The man roared again as his trapped combatant struggled more, and I could see he was slowly gaining more and more ground, the old mans arms trembling and his feet sliding as wings started flapping harder and harder.


    The rain moved all at once. The pointed lengths of many mechanical pencil lead sized rain droplets all converged, and moved in a point, all focused at the center of Aifleial¡¯s chest. One alone would¡¯ve done nothing, but there had to be hundreds of them, and together they made the point of a thick spear that slammed into the little lords chest cavity, puncturing and pushing through, before blowing out of his back in a splatter of water and blood.


    Ella collapsed on top of me, unconscious. She was now as cold as I was. Once a radiator of warmth, now complete bereft of any. The girl had done more than I had, with a busted mouth and broken nose, and I felt a little pride for her.


    Aifleial likely did not.


    The man staggered, a hole now the size of my fist existing through his body, and I could see the gore of dripping blood and his spinal column, still in tact, through the rain and the gaping wound. He wobbled, nearly fell, and then was airborne in one single powerful flap of his wings, completely wrenched from the old man¡¯s grasp. His flight path wasn¡¯t great, he crashed into the rooftop edge of one building, seemed to wobble in the air, and then vanished over the building, hopefully never to be seen again.


    The old man grunted, and collapsed forward. His muscle mass was cut in half all at once, and the spare skin sagged, but he wasn¡¯t the skeleton of a beaten man I had saw before. Unlike me, and unlike Ella, he still had some warmth left in the tank.


    He looked as relieved as I did.


    ¡°Girl, you¡¯re alive?¡± He spoke, and I nodded. ¡°Good, good. You saved us, back there. Come on.¡± The large man grunted, and moved over to a flipped car. His hand grasped at the roof, caving in the metal, and hauling down he managed to flip it entirely.


    ¡°I was on the straight and narrow all my life, but I can probably hot wire this old bastard. Trick of the trade.¡± He laughed, and joined us both. The man hauled Ella into the backseat, and me in the front seat, over the course of the next couple of minutes. He was careful with moving us, and was extra careful with the small girl.


    ¡°My bags.¡± I had managed to mutter, and he retrieved both of the soggy bags dutifully. After that, I stayed quiet, listening to him work in the driver¡¯s seat. After a bit, he left the car, went to the trunk, and returned with tools. While exhaustion was still present, I paid attention, and saw that his confidence may have been partially unfounded, but after ten or so minutes of fiddling, he managed to get the car running.


    I was so terribly grateful when the heater blasted on that I could cry.


    ¡°Where were you going girl? There¡¯s a movement to get to the airport. Would you go there?¡± He spoke, and I shook my head. In the time it had taken for him to hotwire the car, he had shrunk by another half in mass. Still more fit than an old man, but with more excess skin than before.


    ¡°My mother, and my brother. Alone. Near Coloumbus Park.¡± I managed that much, and he looked at me with concern. I didn¡¯t want him to give me that look, I knew. They hadn¡¯t made it. I still needed to see for myself though, and gave him the best pleading look I could manage.


    He obliged. The car was brought to life, and started down the road, slow goings thanks to all of the obstruction and remaining traffic, and many times he went off onto the side walk. There was a silly little part of me that wanted to chastise him for that. What if he hit someone?


    I was a little delirious, I realized, but the cars heater was bringing me back to life. The warmth in my chest didn¡¯t return during the first half of the car ride, but my normal human faculties did, my mind becoming more sharp, and my body slowly rising. The cuts on my arm and stomach, along with a huge blotch of bruising on my side and back, hurt like nothing else, but mercifully there was no bleeding. The wounds were clogged with what looked like scabs, and I didn¡¯t dare pick at them.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking better already. I¡¯m Alvin, Alvin Hofmann, that¡¯s Eleanor, my granddaughter.¡± He made introductions, and I found quickly that I was liking Alvin. He reminded me of a grandfather I never had, he was jovial and friendly despite dark circumstances, and his smile was wider than any I¡¯d seen. He was bare faced, and wrinkles showed heavy, but his hair was messy in a teenage boy-band kind of way, despite being more salt than pepper at this point. He put me at ease, despite my injuries and worries.


    ¡°Charlotte.¡± I spoke, managing to sound a little more like myself now that I¡¯d been warmed through.


    ¡°Charlotte, pretty name, like the spider.¡± He said, and I nodded and smiled. My dad said something similar to me once. ¡°Do you have any idea what¡¯s going on, Charlotte?¡±


    I shook my said.


    ¡°No sir, I was out on a date and everything turned blue.¡± I said.


    ¡°Your date alright?¡± Alvin asked, and seemed concerned.


    ¡°Yes sir, we got separated but I know she¡¯s fine.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like lying to him immediately, but didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d say to her being a Vampire. It was partially the truth, at least, we were separate by her mother and the invasion after all, but it didn¡¯t feel right. He seemed to pick up on it, I noticed his eyes look towards me, but he nodded. I was relieved that he didn¡¯t pry further.


    ¡°Your folks armed?¡± He asked, and as he did he reached down. Out of one of his pockets, he retrieved my little pink hand gun, and handed it off to me. For some reason I was strangely relieved to have it, despite it not having any bullets. I didn¡¯t even know what kind it took.


    He seemed to notice that, too. I was aware that he was more aware, and in turn that made me notice how aware I was as well. Even low on mana, I noticed things more, just like I did in the tea shop. He seemed to be the same.


    ¡°You¡¯ll want .320, it¡¯s a smaller round so I¡¯m surprised you can even use it. Meant for self defense more than killing monsters. Still, the best gun to have is the one you carry. If we pick up your family, we should hit a gun store. Looting¡¯s gonna start the moment this stuff dies down. Need to stock up on clean water, the essentials.¡± Alvin explained as we road, and hit a particularly nasty pothole in the road, but managed to keep us straight and away from most obstacles.


    ¡°Ah- Water, right uhm.¡± I reached back, into one of my back packs. I frowned at Ella¡¯s sleeping form, and reached out to check her temparature, which was fine. She was warmed too, and I saw Alvin looking for relief on my face to know if his granddaughter was okay, which I gave him with a smile and a nod. He sagged visibly at that fact.


    Out of my bag I retrieved water bottles with the strip club¡¯s logo. One was passed off to Alvin, and he eyed the fish on the bottle, then looked at me with his busy eyebrows raised.


    I glared back.


    ¡°No judgment.¡± He said, and took a grateful swig of water as I did the same.


    ¡°None taken, don¡¯t work there. Was just hiding there.¡± I said.


    He nodded, and either didn¡¯t seem to believe me, or pretended not to just to fuck with me. I reached over and jabbed him, and he grinned and laughed.


    Alvin was a weird old coot, but a nice one at least.


    The water, and the conversation, reinvigorated me, and I felt the warmth in my core finally returning. I noted that, too, as I had noted with the fighting. Basic needs replenished mana. Water, Warmth, Rest and Conversation, and I assumed other things would do so as well. Things that were good for the soul, I supposed. I wondered if our experiences were mutually exclusive.


    ¡°You figure this whole magic thing out?¡± I asked, while digging back around in my bag.


    ¡°Magic?¡± Alvin asked, and his eyebrows shot up. He was surprised.


    ¡°Yes sir, the uh¡­. Heat, in your chest. You have that?¡±


    ¡°Ah. I suppose I do.¡± He nodded as he spoke.


    I was the one to arch my eyebrows now.


    ¡°The muscle? How¡¯d you figure out how to do that? And the rain, too. With uhm, Eleanor, she punched straight through that guy with the water.¡± I remembered how the little girl had done more damage than I had even managed with my gun. Shit gun it seemed, but it was still odd.


    ¡°We were going to the museum today, family thing, when things started to go wrong. One second we were walking, the next a giant¡­. Worm, I suppose, came out of the ground. It had Eleanor¡¯s father before any of us could move, my son.¡± His voice grew heavy as he spoke, and grief came out. I realized it had always been there, his eyes had always looked a little sad, but now the lines were heavy across his face, and it wasn¡¯t the wrinkles that caused it.


    ¡°We ran, and kept low. We were hunted¡­. Over the next eight hours, I tried to keep them safe. Her mother went next. That¡¯s when Eleanor turned on our attackers, and used the water from a nearby fire hydrant. Ripped it out of the ground to get at the water. The attackers took it worse than a hole in the chest.¡± Alvin explained while we drove and it gave me time to relax, but I still gave him my full attention. ¡°That¡¯s when he showed up, that scraggly bastard. I figured out how to use my muscles, as you¡¯ve seen, after he punched poor Ella right in the mouth.¡±


    I noticed the grip on the steering wheel grow tighter, and the air marginally warmer.


    ¡°We fought, and got captured, and they rounded us up. From what I gathered, men are to be killed no matter what. Women to be captured unless, didn¡¯t hear this part, in which case they were meant to be killed. Children captured if they show special abilities, killed if they don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Jesus.¡± I muttered, and felt my heart drop at the thought.


    ¡°Now would be the time for him, eh? Thanks again, Charlotte. That was brave stuff you did back there.¡± Alvin looked to me, and gave me a beaming smile. I looked away, embarrassed, but happy to have saved them.


    The rest of the drive was kept in mostly silence. Ella woke up, somewhere along the way, and Alvin shared his water with her. I gave her a shirt to clean up the dried blood from her face, and she accepted. It seemed she didn¡¯t want to talk much, and part of me wondered if it was because her mouth hurt. The dried blood, her lack of teeth in the front of her mouth, and the silence, along with the mention Alvin made of her being punched, painted a pretty clear picture. If I got hit that hard by that man, I wouldn¡¯t speak either.


    I felt bad for her. She was too young for this. I was too young for this. Alvin was too old.


    We approached my neighborhood after a bit of driving. It hadn¡¯t been too far to begin with, but the destruction made it take time. Everywhere we went, buildings were destroyed, there were dead bodies, cars were ruined, parts of the ground up heaved, and on several occasions we had to take detours around. I gave him my address, and guided him roughly to the right location.


    My neighborhood hadn¡¯t faired much better. Fire damage was apparent the moment we arrived, and I recognized several landmarks. My old babysitters house was part of a completely caved in portion of the neighborhood. At first I thought an explosion had leveled it, but I quickly realized something had stepped on those buildings. Little imps were out and about, but they were more like cats than the ape like goblin creatures that I had fought. They were sleeked and slender, swiveling around tree¡¯s and buildings, and scattered when we drove past.


    Large birds, with square shaped beaks and long tassel like feathers were devouring a man. If I knew him, I didn¡¯t know, his face long gone. One bird went at an angle, and plucked an eyeball with the edge of his square mouth. I gagged.


    When we pulled up outside of my house, I was relieved to see it was neither stepped or, nor burned down, but my heart skipped a beat as I saw the front door was wide open, and the screen door was broken.


    ¡°Want us to come with you? Ella probably can¡¯t fight, but¡­.¡± Alvin asked me, and I shook my head.


    ¡°Keep the car going.¡± I told him.


    Without hesitation, I opened the car door, and stuffed my gun into my hoodie¡¯s pocket. Despite being empty, it was still reassuring to have. The warmth in my chest had partially returned, and it was enough to what I had to do, at least I hoped it would be.


    If some monster was inside, they were about to regret it. I had some frustration to get out.

 Arc 1.5

    Chicago did little for the housing market, and the houses worth buying on the market were often little. That was the case of our house. Three bedrooms, with one of them being little more than a full sized closet with a even smaller bathroom attached, with an all brick exterior and too much ivy growing up the sides. It was a cozy little home, but not any place to raise a family. The neighborhood was cramped, but the house sat inlaid into a lot that was too large for it, meaning we got the functional parts of an side path and a back yard but not so much for a front.


    Half of a finished fence sat trying to give privacy to that little patch of dead grass we called our yard, a project my dad never got to finish. When him and my mother found out they were pregnant with me, he allegedly sold everything to buy this place, and marry my mother the same week he heard the news.


    He hadn¡¯t wanted me to be a bastard. That much I respected him for.


    Now the house looked down right awful next to the ruins of the city. Smoky sky as a backdrop, ruined buildings all around. There was a small truck that looked like it nearly rammed into the house, crashed through part of the half-fence and into the neighbors building to the right. It was fortunate that the house was made of brick, because the truck had burned.


    I didn¡¯t check if someone had burned with it.


    Instead my gaze was on the shattered glass of the front door, the wood frame around it having been slightly caved in to whatever kicked it open. I gulped. I wasn¡¯t ready to see my mother and brother dead, but every part of my heart felt like I would. It was a guarantee at this point, they wouldn¡¯t have survived.


    My shoes crunched glass, and I felt the sole wobble from being detached, likely in my earlier run or fight. I drew my empty gun, and moved up the accessibility ramp, and in through the front door.


    Home. Safety. Words I¡¯d usually associated with the place. The entrance hallway had a place for keys, but our car hadn¡¯t been driven in some time - saved for Noah, when he got his license in a few years, not for me, who couldn¡¯t have ever driven, or a mother who couldn¡¯t remember her own name, much less her driving tests. The entrance hall was a mess.


    Something large had moved through. Wood panel was cracked along the walls, and the floor had indents, and where the entrance hall opened up, there was blood. Lots of blood. I felt my knee¡¯s wobble, and my heart fall hard, at how much scarlet there was, splattered not just on the floor in great big blotches, but also on the ceiling, or on the walls. I could¡¯ve counted places it was, rather than it wasn¡¯t.


    I didn¡¯t dare call out my brother¡¯s name, or for my mother.


    Walking further in was my only option. I stepped through the puddle of blood, and into the dividing section. The hallway carried the trail of blood all the way down, past the small family bathroom, my mother¡¯s bedroom door, my door, and my brothers which sat on the farthest left of the hall. The other two splits were to the living room, and kitchen, on my right and left.


    I took a peak into the living room. My mother wasn¡¯t there. Her spot, which quite literally had an indent in the cushions from her sitting there, was empty. No corpse, and I nearly gagged from the relief. I didn¡¯t bother checking the kitchen.


    I carried on.


    To my mother¡¯s bedroom, first door on the right. I opened it, and peeked in, and she wasn¡¯t there either. Just her medical bed, old television for day¡¯s she couldn¡¯t get up, and her closet open. All of her clothes were scattered. On closer inspection, the sheets on the bed were removed as well.


    The bathroom to my left was checked next. It took was in disarray, the tiny cabinets open, toilet paper missing, essentials gone. Someone had ransacked the place I was realizing. I checked my room too, but surprisingly it was untouched.


    The blood trail¡¯s path was my brothers room, and I felt my body begin to quiver. I shook, and felt pain in my heart, and felt my eyes flood with tears. I stopped halfway down the remainder of the hallway, and glanced at one of the family pictures that littered the area.


    My dad. The large man, a brick shit-house as my uncle called him, portly in the stomach with thick shoulders and a thicker beard. He was shirtless in this picture, and was the hairiest thing I¡¯d ever seen. Next to him was my brother, Noah, much smaller back then with a shit-eating grin and too many freckles, my mother, the pale beauty she was, with straight black hair and big hazel eyes, and me, the future mess. I was happy in that picture. My curly hair was long, and I was missing my front teeth, but I was smiling big and happy.


    The thought that only one person in that picture may have been alive made me choke back a tearful sob, as I glanced to my brothers room. I simply didn¡¯t want to look, but I needed the finality. I¡¯d find him in there, trying to shield my mother, both dead, maybe in his tiny bathroom.


    I gulped back another choke, and took my steps through the puddles of blood. The remainder of the hallway, maybe only a few feet, felt like it was the longest walk I¡¯d ever taken, and it took too long to step into the open door.


    So much blood. It was everywhere, dripping from the ceiling even.


    In the middle of the room I found myself staring.


    It was a large mass of flesh. Green, muscled, with patchwork pants and no head, but I was noticing the splatter of it everywhere. Larger than my father by far, the monster lay defeated, its head blown completely off, with nobody else in sight. No Noah, no Mom. Only after checking the bathroom did I finally let myself sag with relief. My knee¡¯s splashed in the puddle of the creatures blood, but I didn¡¯t much care, I found myself simply staring at it, knowing that it hadn¡¯t killed my family.


    I cried for too long, I think. It was hard to gauge the time, but it was enough time that I heard the car outside shut off, and the door open then slam, carrying through the hallway from the open front door. I sobbed mightily, and thought I¡¯d break something in my chest with each hiccuping gasp for air, and ever violent shudder that went through my body. I¡¯d held it in all day, I¡¯d been so strong, I¡¯d fought monsters, and finally the dam had broken.


    I hadn¡¯t noticed when mister Alvin came into the room, and swept me up, I only started bawling more again him. He¡¯d taken the time to pick me up, and carry me into the living room, and dropped me down onto the couch. Eleanor had come into the home as well, though he made her wait at the front door as he grabbed old blankets from the closet. My mom would¡¯ve reamed him with a stare for even considering using her fancy sheets, but the old man dutifully cleaned the blood from the floor before letting his daughter walk through.


    He scrubbed for what must¡¯ve been too long a time, because the light from outside started dwindling, and it got darker in a way that wasn¡¯t just because of the perpetually overcast sky.


    After a while, I managed to calm down. I hadn¡¯t cried like that in a long time, and I still wanted to scream, to fight and throw something, to see Aifleial again and really give him a wallop. That was a little part of me, partially suicidal and partially insane, that was talking. The warmth in my chest liked that idea though, and had been steadily growing as I cried.


    I guess a good was what I¡¯d needed for a long, long time.


    ¡°I made us some coffee. You had some old instant stuff in the back of the cabinet, probably still good.¡± Alvin broke the silence, setting down a cup of coffee for me, and a plate of cookies. He¡¯d helped himself to the kitchen, and I was thankful.


    The coffee was old, probably stale, something my mom used to drink, but I couldn¡¯t focus on the taste as I sipped it. Eleanor was watching me as I did so, and I gave her a little smile despite myself, and she looked away when I do so.


    ¡°They must¡¯ve gotten away.¡± I said, breaking the silence. Alvin nodded.


    ¡°It seems so. They must¡¯ve gotten the same tools we did, when all this happened. Mighty strong to kill that beast like that.¡± Alvin spoke, and he sat on a wicker chair across the small living room, next to Eleanor who had opted to sit on the floor.


    ¡°Yeah- maybe. My mom was uh, mental problems, y¡¯know? She had early onset Alzheimer¡¯s, on top of a lot of other stuff. BPD, Anxiety, Depression, issues with her motor skills, even before her brain got foggy. Bad stuff.¡± I said.


    Alvin was a good listener, and didn¡¯t take his attention from me as I spoke.


    ¡°She mostly sat where I am, and didn¡¯t move around much. We did the best we could, and my uncle kept us from being carted off to CPS, but really we were alone in this whole thing. My leg¡¯s didn¡¯t work before today, so my brother took care of us.¡± I was just talking to talk, and gingerly touched my legs as if I¡¯d break them again. I noticed Alvin shift as he followed my gaze to my legs, the elderly man leaning forward in his seat.


    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s the case then, maybe she¡¯s¡­. Better now? Not trying to be insensitive, or nothing.¡± Alvin spoke, gesturing to my legs, and I waved him off. ¡°I¡¯m an old man, I¡¯ve not been in the best of health myself, and it¡¯s only been getting worse. Today though, I move like a young man. You¡¯ve gotten your legs back. Maybe your mother is better too.¡±


    He smiled, big and wide, and I was stunned. I hadn¡¯t considered that much. Whatever happened during the onset of the apocalypse, it¡¯d returned faculties that people hadn¡¯t had before. Alvin was a modern day Hercules, despite his age, and I¡¯d been able to walk again. I nodded, and smiled to him, he was giving me hope.


    ¡°Thank you, mister Hofmann.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense, call me Alvin. You don¡¯t mind if I raid your home, do you? We should get supplies. You go take a bath if we still have running water, and change your clothes.¡± He said, and gave a glance to my outfit.


    It was true, I needed it. My clothes were still shredded in places from being attacked by those little creatures, I had all sorts of blood on me, some now that wasn¡¯t mine, my sneakers were in a state of ruin, and I was only just drying from a mixture of rainwater and too much sweat. The wounds on my stomach and arms had healed only a fraction, and had scabbed over, and I knew they needed a little more medical attention.


    I smiled gratefully at him, and walked off, while he stood to go check the kitchen. I heard the television come on not long after I started running a bath, and was grateful that electricity and water were still running in this area, and knew it wouldn¡¯t be long before those things were gone.


    The bath was something that I¡¯d been more grateful for than before. Sure, the club had showers that I¡¯d used a few hours back, but it wasn¡¯t a comfort zone and everything was clinical with its white and blue tiling meant to not offend the senses. Here was my domain. I poured special bubble bath liquid my friend Chelsey had gotten me for my last birthday, I lit candles with some matches that were left in the medical cabinet, and even turned off the lights to enjoy the ambient dark. The color of the water almost immediately changed as I sat down in the bath, but I¡¯d shower off again a second time alter, and enjoyed the bath for what it was.


    It warmed my chest again too. The nourishment of the soul I was finding. Resting had refilled that cavity, as had the water in the car and sips of coffee just prior, the cry had done wonders, and now the bath was finalizing the job, and it made the linger ache¡¯s or stiffness in my body fade as I supplied those spots with that warmth.


    Mana.


    Magic.


    I remembered Eleanor controlling the rain, and hovered my hand over a bubble. I tried flooding warmth into my palm, then I tried ejecting it from my hand, then I tried dipping the hand and that warmth in the water entirely, and nothing happened. It was the same as when I flooded my muscles with warmth prior, I didn¡¯t muscle out like Alvin, despite becoming obviously stronger.


    Are the rules different for everyone? Eleanor can turn water into a weapon. Alvin can muscle up. I can make myself kind of athletic, I guess. Maybe there¡¯s more I can do, too.


    The rules of magic were entirely unknown to me, and I started to wonder if there were any rules. Was there an underlying system in place, or was magic simply magic, meant to be strange and uncertain? I didn¡¯t quite know. I hoped it had some sense of logic and reason in place. I didn¡¯t want to muscle up like Alvin did, but being able to kill things with jets of water sounded pretty useful.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    As I thought of water, I noticed how filthy the bath had gotten. I quickly drained it, stood, and showered off instead, and once done I wrapped myself in a towel, both my hair and body, and peeked out into the hallway. Alvin was nowhere to be seen. I didn¡¯t quite care much, but I still liked to be decent, so I took the opportunity to quickly sneak to my room. The blood was mostly cleaned, fortunately, so I didn¡¯t risk slipping or dirtying my feet.


    I darted into my bedroom and closed the door.


    To be back in my room was surreal, after what felt like a lifetime of stress that crammed into a single day. With night setting in, I turned on my light, once again thankful that power was still on. I doubted it¡¯d be for long. We¡¯d be staying here for the night, I assumed, so I decided to wear my pajama¡¯s to bad. Pink, fluffy pants with little blue bears plastered on them, and an overlarge top that was once my dad¡¯s, with some obscure old cartoon I didn¡¯t have a name for.


    It was an armor of sorts for me. The comfort of familiarity was nestled into my heart as I stopped in front of a vanity mirror, and took a brush to my short hair. Too short. I wrinkled my nose, cursing myself for what I¡¯d done to it.


    Through the brushing, I heard rustling in the living room, and felt a twinge of annoyance. I didn¡¯t like strangers ransacking my house, no matter how friendly they were. At least it offered me some safety. I turned and dug under my bed for one of my storage cube¡¯s, dragging out too many and making a mess across my room. I was looking for an old bookbag, found it, and dumped all of that years notes and books onto the floor. While my pajama¡¯s were comfy, I wanted to have a change of clothes ready, and back up clothes that were actually mine, for when shit inevitably hit the fan.


    I chided myself at the thought. The irritation and continued lingering trauma of the days events were making me more comfortable with cursing, something I¡¯d tried not to do. My dad didn¡¯t like it. He never swore once that I could remember.


    I swerved my bed and walked over to the closet to open it up, and dig for my clothes. I was thankful my room hadn¡¯t been ransacked. At first I¡¯d thought looters had hit the place after the fact, but now I was coming to the conclusion that my brother had left in a hurry. Maybe my uncle had picked them up, after hearing word of the apocalypse.


    He lived too far away to have made it before the monsters touched down, so I knew it wasn¡¯t that. Maybe they were just outside, in a ditch somewhere face down.


    I flinched, and opened the closet door.


    ¡°Shiriyah!¡± A voice cried from it, and I was outright startled. From the closet, in a blur of movement, came something too large in too wrong ways. Thin arms and a frame too tall folded out in a war-cry of a scream and tackled me, causing me to scream in return. It was large, or maybe it was long, with a torso that was half of mine in width, and arm¡¯s that were longer than mine by half in length. It clawed for me, and I fumbled back against my bed as it hefted its minuscule weight my way.


    I immediately punched once my startle turned to a different kind of fear. My elbow pivoted back, fist closed, warmth filled the arm, and I hit the creature in the closest approximation of a stomach, and it flew. Right back into the closet it was thrown from my punch, and it slammed into the wall in a mess of limbs, hitting hard enough to knock down the above shelf and send items tumbling onto its head. It was mostly limp, and I heard it sob.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me, I¡¯m sorry, please.¡± It whined, and I realized it was a female now. Sitting on my floor, huffing, I glared at it, seeing the heavy braid of hair that obscured its face. The creature didn¡¯t have a nose, and it¡¯s eyes were too large, though its skin was roughly the same color as mine, pale and without freckles or texture. It¡¯s limbs were long, and as thin as its torso, and it would¡¯ve been tall if it had room to stand, but the ceilings of my house had been low.


    It was almost human. Almost.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± I rose to my feet with support from my bed, and it flinched and covered its face. I had instinctively drawn my gun, and was using it as an intimidation factor. Fear of the unknown I was finding was extremely effective, these monsters had no clue what a gun was.


    Seconds after I had stood, the door burst open, and Alvin was in the room as an expanding mass of muscle and confusion. I saw Eleanor peak around the corner, holding a cup of water in her hand with dangerous intent. Somehow, between the muscled super human, and the weird stick person, I felt she was the monster dangerous thing in the house at the time.


    ¡°What happened?!¡± Alvin yelled, staring at me, then staring at the stick-girl. He went to step forward, and she flinched again, which made him stop as well. His face looked as confused now as I felt, and I finally lowered my empty gun.


    ¡°She was in my closet.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean too I swear.¡± It muttered, and sunk down into itself more, covered in my clothes, and miscellaneous junk that had been stored on my over-head closet shelf.


    For not the first time today, I was at a loss for what to do, and so was Alvin.


    Eleanor however, was not. She peeked into the room, stared at the stick-girl, holding her glass of water like a veiled threat, and then the little girl walked in and past both me and Alvin. She crouched in the doorway of the closet, in front of the stick-girl, and stared.


    The stick-girl peeked between her fingers, and stared back.


    ¡°I¡¯m Eleanor.¡± The little girl spoke first. She still held her glass of water, in a non-threatening manner, though I doubted the creature could register the glass as a threat.


    ¡°H-Hi Eleanor.¡± The stick girl whispered, and Eleanor smiled at her. It was a tiny smile, but it was the first emotion that wasn¡¯t pain or apathy that I¡¯d seen on the face of the child.


    ¡°Why were you hiding in the closet?¡± Eleanor asked.


    ¡°I heard people come inside, and I was scared.¡± Stick-girl replied, still a whisper, and she looked to me with those wide too-circular eyes.


    Eleanor nodded and stood up, offering the stick-girl her hand.


    I glanced the way of Alvin, and he glanced at me with a shrug. For a moment he was a kindred spirit, as we both knew that Eleanor was not in danger. She was the danger. That cup of water was better than my empty gun and his muscle mass by large, and for that reason neither of us had stepped in to stop her.


    It also may have been because we both started feeling bad for the creature.


    The stick-girl stared, big wide black eyes seeming to be stuck on Eleanor¡¯s hand, before she cautiously took it, and climbed out of the closet.


    I stepped back, as did Alvin, just in case she tried to lash out at one of us.


    ¡°Oh. You weren¡¯t stealing?¡± Eleanor asked.


    ¡°N-No! Not- kind of. I didn¡¯t know anyone lived here, I swear! I thought everyone was rounded up.¡± The stick-girl asked, and it was only now that I was noticing that she was wearing my clothes. Too tall, too lean, but she¡¯d put on one of my school shorts and made it look like a crop top, and a pair of shorts that couldn¡¯t hug her legs properly. Her thickly braided hair was filled with my hair bows, hair clips, glitter and other miscellaneous things that were mine.


    ¡°Rounded up?¡± I asked now, and she visibly flinched, and bared her teeth at me. I almost expected them to all be sharp, but they were rounded and as weird looking as she was.


    Eleanor tugged on her hand, and got the stick-girls attention again.


    ¡°Y-Yes, rounded up. Orders of the K-King. Children with magic, young women with a lesser degree, that kind of round up.¡± She spoke, and then quickly flinched as she glanced at my face. I must¡¯ve been scowling. ¡°I¡¯m not part of the round up, though! I- I¡¯m just here to uhm, set up?¡±


    ¡°Set up?¡± I asked. I was quickly following up with her words, giving the creature no room to speak.


    ¡°Yes! We¡¯re told to gather valuables! Baubles! My people are treasure gatherer¡¯s, so we were brought along with the others like us. This is your room? You have very pretty stuff- oh! I¡¯m sorry.¡± She spoke, and then seemed to notice me looking at her hair, the stick-girl quickly trying to pull the many things she had stuck in her hair out.


    I shook my head.


    ¡°Keep it.¡±


    She looked up at me, wide eyed, as if she¡¯d just discovered fire. The stick-girl nodded, and looked at one of the hair clips in her hands, seeming to admire it. It was a cheap little thing, a glittery byproduct of my youth that she must¡¯ve dug from the closet. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    I blinked twice in surprise.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have those kind of things in your world?¡± I asked, and she shook her head again.


    ¡°N-No! Our kind are cave dwellers.¡± She said.


    It was weird to talk to one of the invaders. Sure, I¡¯d spoken with Aifleial, but it wasn¡¯t friendly, and it certainly wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d call a chat. This girl was almost normal, ignoring how stretched she looked. I still didn¡¯t trust her, and was glaring just a bit.


    ¡°Were there two other people in the home? What about big ugly back there?¡± Alvin asked now, and seemed to be trying to defuse the situation.


    The stick-girl shook her head quickly, sending her brain slapping back and forth behind her.


    ¡°Nobody! He was dead when I got here. It was strange, Ogreckis don¡¯t tend to like confined spaces, so something must¡¯ve antagonized it.¡± She said.


    That didn¡¯t sound good. It meant that someone had been chased through the house. Noah, maybe? I thought that much, but was perturbed by the thought of him killing, both that he did, and had to in the first place, something that large and dangerous looking. If his magic worked like Eleanor¡¯s, maybe. It was hard to decide if I felt relieved, or not at all.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Eleanor asked, her big eyes staring back into the stick-girl¡¯s even larger orbs.


    ¡°Mellaraskithvan.¡± She said.


    ¡°Mel.¡± Eleanor nodded sagely. ¡°I¡¯m Eleanor.¡±


    The stick-girl, Mel, seemed to be terribly confused. She reminded me of a praying mantis, all wire and a perpetually dumb look on her face, and I wondered if that was my clouded judgment getting in my way, or if she really did just look that dumb in the face. I didn¡¯t dislike her. I knew I was just firing off anger at the first thing I could reasonably blame.


    I sighed.


    Alvin took my sigh as a sign of defeat, and gestured to us all.


    ¡°Come, let¡¯s sit in the living room. Mel, would you be ok answering some of our questions seeing as you did break into this young ladies house?¡± Alvin asked. Mel gaped at me, as if she hadn¡¯t considered it a breaking and entering.


    ¡°Yes! So sorry, again, I¡¯m very sorry, it¡¯s just my job.¡± Mel bowed, and I shrugged. I didn¡¯t want to say anything catty, so I left the room, and Alvin joined me, follow by Eleanor leading her new friend through the hallway.


    It surprised me how much Alvin got done in such little time. The windows in the living room and kitchen were all covered in thick blankets to block vision from the outside, in the case of someone managing to see through the blinds. The front door was closed, and apparently the locking mechanism was broken, so Alvin had slid a shelf against it, and then the kitchen table in front of that as well to completely block us in. I doubted that it would hold against anything major, like the thing in my brothers room, and that door on a glance back was closed entirely. The room had been arranged with heavy blankets and pillows on the floor, for sleeping, and the coffee table had been covered with the kitchen tables sheet.


    The smell of something cooking in the oven wafted to me, and my mouth salivated. I crossed the room to sit in my mothers usual seat, while noting that my bags had been brought in, both of which still soaked from having been thrown down during my fight.


    The others took various spots around the room, with Mel sitting cautiously on the floor, her long legs crossing. Her posture was terribly, and her hair was constantly in her eyes, leaning her to look ghoulish to me. Eleanor didn¡¯t seem to much mind, and sat next to her, finally putting down the cup of water that she wielded in the same way I held my gun.


    ¡°So, Mel, can you tell us about this¡­. Invasion? I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re running on little information here.¡± Alvin asked as he sat in a wicker chair, and had deflated back to his usual old and fragile looking self. Mel for the most part gave a sharp shrug, staring at him, and then flickering her gaze back to me.


    ¡°Iblis came to us not too long ago- he said he had jobs for our tribes. Treasures. The capital was in uproar, we were all celebrating. The God¡¯s were dead, y¡¯know? It was cause for celebration.¡± Mel spoke, and both myself and Alvin pitched our eyebrows up.


    ¡°God¡¯s?¡± I asked.


    ¡°T-The Pantheon.¡± She said, and I noticed Mel stuttered more with me. I wondered if I really punched her that hard.


    ¡°Ah. Like¡­. Jesus?¡± I tried, and she stared at me blankly. I looked to Alvin, and he shrugged.


    ¡°Who is Iblis?¡± Alvin tried now. It was clear Mel wasn¡¯t going to be our greatest source of information, or maybe she would be given that we had no other options.


    ¡°Iblis? The King. Ah- different names. He goes by lots of different names. Such is the seat of the King. Our kind call him Iblis. Other¡¯s call him Mammon, Typhoeus, Mephistopheles-¡°


    ¡°Satan.¡± I interrupted her now. She nodded, and I felt my body go cold as I stared back at her. I nodded, or maybe I was rocking back and forth, at the news. To say I was stunned would be the understatement of the century. I was fine with goblins and dragons and all sorts of other stuff, but hearing such a grounded name made me cast doubts on the fate of humanity. The world.


    ¡°What does he want?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s- complicated. Our world is kind of messed up, you see? The Iblis before the current Iblis ruined things. He started lots of wars, and held too much powers. They say under his rule that jungles turned to deserts, and the rain to acid, that eroded the lands and spread the sands. He fought God¡¯s and Demon¡¯s alike, and ultimately was killed, but the damage was done.¡± Mel explained, and my frown deepened. ¡°So, Iblis wants your world, I guess.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s strong?¡±


    She looked at me and I remembered something my dad would say to my uncle. Does the pope shit in the woods? A malaphor, I¡¯d learned from the Internet, a mixing of two terms. It still stuck in my head as Mel looked my way with those black pits that she called eyes.


    ¡°They say all of his generals combined could not take him out. Even the Pantheon struggled with him. When I was a child, we got to witness it. Titan¡¯s in the sky. He fought eight God¡¯s and eight Archangels alone, and the battle lasted for four days and nights.¡± Mel spoke in awe and reverence, and my stomach dropped more and more as I imagined the man.


    ¡°And why is he gathering Human¡¯s?¡± Alvin asked, since I¡¯d found a frog in my throat. I¡¯d tried to speak, but my mouth wouldn¡¯t make normal sounds.


    Mel shrugged.


    ¡°Not sure. I guess Human¡¯s are problematic. We have them back home, resistance groups, but mostly used as cattle for Vampire¡¯s and stuff.¡± Mel said that, and it might as well have been a one-two punch. First the casual dropping of the devil, then the mention of Vampire¡¯s.


    I thought about Peyton. I thought more about her mother. Was that what she¡¯d seen me as? Cattle?


    ¡°Where are they taking the captives?¡± Alvin asked, and he was now glancing towards me with his brows knit in worry. He was picking up the wrong details from my expression, making a conclusion. Sure, I was worried about my family. It would remain the focus of my mind. But the devil? Vampire cattle? It was more overwhelming. I could imagine my family safe. I could have hope. Those two details made hope feel worthless.


    The Devil ruled the world. Peyton saw me as livestock.


    I put my face in my hands, and leaned forward, elbows on my knee¡¯s. I groaned.


    ¡°They¡¯re being gathered near where the gate opened. North. Something¡¯s happening tomorrow afternoon, Iblis is holding a large meeting, we¡¯re all supposed to attend for our own safety apparently.¡± Mel spoke, and when I glanced up I noticed she was looking at me with worry on her features as well.


    ¡°Okay¡­. Thank you, Mel, for humoring us.¡± Alvin said, and sighed as he glanced towards me. When I heard there was a meeting, my back had straightened.


    Me and Alvin were often on the same page. This was not the case here and now. I had to go to that gathering.


    I had to see Peyton again. I had to know if my family was alive.