《Inspire: A collection of A.imless I.nstances》 The Line that Binds The afterlife queue smelled of damp stone and regret. Carlos Reyes stumbled into it, ears still ringing from the plane¡¯s explosion¡ªCaracas to Miami, a fireball at 30,000 feet. Marisol¡¯s scream, Sofia¡¯s tiny hand slipping from his, the textbooks he¡¯d clutched¡ªall gone. Now, he stood on a cracked gray slab, hemmed in by a sea of souls stretching beyond sight. The air hung heavy, tasting of ash and stale breath, a faint hum vibrating through the void. Shadows loomed¡ªtall, jagged spires like broken teeth, their tips lost in a swirling, bruise-purple sky. **First Hours**: He paced, boots scuffing the stone. Every soul was a statue¡ªblank eyes, slack jaws¡ªexcept him. He shouted, ¡°Marisol! Sofia!¡± but his voice flattened, swallowed by the hum. The spires pulsed faintly, runes etched into their bases glowing sickly green. He counted breaths¡ª120, 240¡ªclinging to a doctor¡¯s rhythm. No one answered. **First Days**: Exhaustion gnawed, but sleep wouldn¡¯t come. He sat, knees to chest, watching a woman beside him, her face frozen mid-sob. The hum grew louder, a drone that burrowed into his skull. He traced imaginary sutures on his palm, whispering medical terms¡ª*scalpel, suture, saline*¡ªto anchor himself. The sky churned darker, purples bleeding to black. A metallic tang coated his tongue; he spat, but it lingered. **First Weeks**: Time smeared. He stopped counting days when the spires¡¯ runes shifted¡ªgreen to red, pulsing like a heartbeat. The crowd thickened, new souls pressing in, silent and staring. Carlos muttered to Sofia¡ªher favorite lullaby, ¡°Du¨¦rmete, mi ni?a¡±¡ªbut the words jumbled. His hands shook; he couldn¡¯t recall Marisol¡¯s eyes. Were they brown? Hazel? The stone beneath him cracked wider, a spiderweb of fractures mirroring his mind. **Millions of Years**: Eons ground him down. The queue was a prison of eternity, spires now crumbling, their runes faded to dull scars. The sky was a void, no color, just weight. Souls blurred into a gray mass, featureless, while Carlos drifted¡ªhalf-aware, half-lost. Marisol¡¯s name was a sound without shape. Sofia¡¯s laugh, a ghost he chased through the hum, now a deafening roar. His body didn¡¯t age, but his soul frayed, threads of memory snapping one by one. He was a husk, rocking silently, hands tracing sutures on air. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Then¡ªa crack. Light split the gray. Two figures clashed: Noah, wiry and furious, hurling magic at Wizen, a titan of scars and glowing runes. The hum shattered, and something in Carlos snapped awake¡ªa shard of himself, sharp and alive. He blinked, the spires sharpening into focus, the crowd stirring. Noah speaking to Wizen, shouting about escape. Sticky¡ªa demon girl with tangled curls¡ªclung to Wizen¡¯s leg, whimpering. Wizen roared, slamming Noah back, but his eyes flicked to a glowing orb in his hand: the Key Relic, pulsing gold. ¡°Take her!¡± Wizen bellowed, tossing Sticky to Noah. ¡°Save her soul¡ªgo!¡± Noah snatched the girl and the relic, diving through a shrinking portal¡ªa rip of red light. The Damned Plains awaited them. Carlos drifted toward it, pulled by instinct, a moth to flame. But Wizen¡¯s arm shot out, halting him mid-air. ¡°Not yet,¡± he growled, voice like gravel. A rune flared on his palm¡ªMemory Echo, silver and jagged. It sank into Carlos, and his past flared: Marisol¡¯s hazel eyes, Sofia¡¯s laugh, the plane¡¯s fire. Wizen¡¯s gaze softened, pain flickering. ¡°A father,¡± he murmured. ¡°Like me.¡± Carlos rasped, voice rusty, ¡°Who¡­?¡± Wizen¡¯s runes dimmed, his strength fading. ¡°I failed my daughter, even with a god¡¯s power. The Key was mine, but I lost her anyway.¡± He pressed a single rune into Carlos¡¯s chest¡ªWeave, a Master rune, golden and alive, threads spiraling like a heartbeat. ¡°This is enough. Go. Continue where I left off¡ªbut don¡¯t stray like I did.¡± The portal flickered, nearly gone. Wizen¡¯s last spark surged, shoving Carlos through. ¡°Save yours,¡± he whispered, collapsing as the gray reclaimed him. "May you suceed where I failed..." Carlos landed hard, knees sinking into ashen dust. The Damned Plains stretched endless¡ªcracked earth, air thick with sulfur, demons drifting like wraiths, their eyes glinting red. The Weave rune pulsed in his soul, a surgeon¡¯s tool for a broken world. Marisol and Sofia were ghosts, but Wizen¡¯s words burned: *Save yours.* He rose, dust falling from his newly formed body. One rune. One chance. He¡¯d stitch this hell together¡ªor die trying. A horned shadow lumbered closer, claws scraping. Carlos smiled, grim and certain. Time to operate. All Bullies Benedict Emerson leaned against the bar, the river town¡¯s tavern a haze of smoke and sour ale. Post-Trial of Primacy, he¡¯d drifted here¡ªsome nowhere burg warped by the World Tree, its wooden beams etched with faint ethera scars. The bartender, a wiry girl with a crooked smile, slid him a mug. ¡°You¡¯re new,¡± she said, eyeing his Trial-honed frame, the flicker of charm he¡¯d learned in Nexus Town. ¡°Trouble follows new.¡± ¡°Hope not,¡± he muttered, sipping. His Imps¡ªthree shadows of claw and ember¡ªlurked cloaked nearby, a habit from dodging Sadie¡¯s wrath. The bar hummed¡ªtraders, militia, a drunk crooning off-key. Then it turned. A burly man in militia gear shoved past, shoulder slamming Benedict¡¯s. Ale splashed, and the guy wheeled, red-faced. ¡°Watch it, pretty boy!¡± he barked, spotting Benedict¡¯s sharp jaw, the ethera gleam in his eyes. ¡°Think you¡¯re better¡¯n us?¡± ¡°Just drinking,¡± Benedict said, hands up. But the room shifted¡ªheads turned, murmurs grew. Another joined, a squat woman with a cudgel. ¡°He¡¯s got that look¡ªTrial stink. Bet he¡¯s one o¡¯ them wannabe rankers.¡± ¡°Leave it,¡± Benedict warned, voice low. His Imps stirred, unseen. The burly man swung¡ªa meaty fist aimed at his jaw. Benedict ducked, instinct kicking in¡ªTrial reflexes¡ªand shoved back. The man stumbled, crashed into a table, and roared up swinging a dagger. The woman charged too, cudgel high. He didn¡¯t want this. But the Trial taught survival. A flick of will¡ªRitual Spike flared¡ªand an Imp burst free, claws raking the man¡¯s chest. Blood sprayed, a scream cut short as he crumpled. The woman¡¯s cudgel grazed Benedict¡¯s shoulder; he spun, Soul Siphon threading her life into a Malicious Guard. She gasped, eyes hollowing, then fell, neck snapped by the hulking summon. The bar froze¡ªthen erupted in yells, chairs toppling, blades drawn. Benedict bolted, Imps cloaking him in shadow, but militia swarmed the streets. They dragged him to Ironreach¡¯s heart¡ªa steel-and-timber sprawl, its canals glinting, towers jagged with ethera scars. Overseer Lira Voss, a judge, presided, gaunt and whip-sharp, her council of six in a stone chamber. Witnesses¡ªten from the bar¡ªlined up, faces grim. ¡°He attacked unprovoked,¡± one lied, a trader who¡¯d ducked the fight. ¡°Killed ¡®em cold¡ªsummoned demons.¡± Another nodded, the drunk, slurring, ¡°Monster, he is.¡± Benedict stood chained, shouting, ¡°They swung first! You saw!¡± But the crowd jeered, ¡°Liar!¡±¡ªand Lira¡¯s gavel fell. ¡°Guilty,¡± she declared, voice cutting. ¡°Benedict Emerson, your powers threaten us¡ªyour kind¡¯s a blight. Death or exile.¡± The council nodded¡ªfive to one, the lone healer dissenting, silenced by glares. Later, whispers leaked: Lira¡¯s coin had turned the witnesses, bribing them to scrub this ¡°Trial freak¡± with his eerie summons and sharp looks. Ironreach wanted him gone¡ªthreat, outcast, different. They chose exile¡ªspears prodding him to the wilds, a mob¡¯s stones bruising his ribs. He collapsed in brambles, ethera-twisted pines looming, Ironreach¡¯s glow a taunt. Though it stopped hurting due to his high stats, it brought back the memories. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. While in thought, his Imps swarmed, claws tapping, voices shrill. ¡°They¡¯re askin¡¯ for it, Boss!¡± one cackled, sparking. ¡°Remember the Trial¡ª¡®Torch the lot!¡¯ you yelled! City¡¯s a fat blaze waitin¡¯!¡± Another gnashed, ¡°Walls¡¯ll melt! ¡®Burn the bastard¡¯s heap!¡¯¡ªyou loved it! Roast ¡®em crispy!¡± The smallest hopped, ¡°Speared ya, they did! ¡®Fry ¡®em dead!¡¯¡ªmy turn! Towers to ash!¡± Benedict swiped at them, hoarse. ¡°Quiet.¡± But their fire sank in. He paced, blood crusting, and spoke to the dark. ¡°Bullies. Thought it was only the bad ones¡ªraiders, bandits, thieves¡ªbeating down the weak. But Lira? A judge? Her ¡®just¡¯ council? The bar rats who lied for coin? They¡¯re bullies too¡ªhiding behind justice, bribing truth, stabbing what¡¯s different. Good, bad¡ªall the same. They crush you ¡®cause they can. I¡¯m done breaking.¡± The Imps hooted, sparking, stomping, shrieking, ¡°Burn ¡®em all!¡± Benedict¡¯s eyes burned. ¡°Yeah. Ironreach ends tonight. Burn it to the ground.¡± --- The city¡¯s annihilation was a tempest of ruin. Benedict struck under a moonless sky, Imps swarming its veins. One hit the granaries¡ªflames roared, grain silos bursting into ash plumes, embers raining like stars to torch shanties below. Another ravaged the canals¡ªoil-slicked boats ignited, fire rivers surging, steam scalding flesh as barges sank in boiling wrecks, fish bubbling dead. The smallest scaled the towers¡ªethera runes glowed molten, then cracked, stone spires toppling onto militia barracks, screams swallowed by dust and blaze. Benedict wove the carnage, runes flaring¡ªSoul Siphon drinking lives, Shadow Dominion cloaking him in writhing dark. Malicious Guards rose¡ªhulks of ethera and bone¡ªsmashing steel gates to slag, tearing through Lira¡¯s lines. Forges erupted, blue-white ethera blasts leveling smithies, molten steel pooling like blood. Canals churned red, choked with charred bodies; walls melted, their iron frames twisting into grotesque skeletons. The plaza¡ªringed by jagged obelisks¡ªbecame a slaughter pit, Lira¡¯s glaive flashing ¡®til a Guard crushed her skull, her council scattering as flames took them. Benedict saw the healer that had voted against his exile being set ablaze. *unlucky*, he thought, before shifting his focus to the summoning circle. He drove Ritual Spike deep, black ethera surging¡ªa dome of death swallowing Ironreach. Towers dissolved, obelisks shattered into glowing shards, the ground splitting, swallowing streets in fiery maws. Thousands of souls bled into it¡ªscreams spiraling into a vortex, ash storms blotting the sky. The air tore, a faint hum birthing his new summon. She flickered forth¡ªveiled, horned, her skin smoked glass. Rune-chains bound her wrists and neck, dull and straining, her form a wisp of caged power. She stepped onto the ruin, ash crunching, voice a fractured whisper. ¡°Who summons me?¡± Benedict reeled, drained. ¡°Benedict. I called you¡ªto end the bullies... the lies. Good, bad¡ªthey¡¯re all the same in the end.¡± Zera¡¯s embers glinted beneath her veil. ¡°I am Zera, the Shrouded Sovereign, bane of the Sundered Abyss. A city¡¯s ruin for my whisper. I clawed from the Tree¡¯s roots¡ªbartered, bled¡ªto breach this plane. Yet your will binds me, frail in these fetters.¡± She probed, sharp. ¡°What is your purpose?¡± ¡°They rigged me,¡± he spat, ash streaking him. ¡°My powers, my face¡ªthey fear those that are different. I¡¯ll bring it all to the ground. All I wanted was to be left alone. They''ve got my attention now.¡± Zera hummed, amused. ¡°A soul like mine¡ªscarred by the scorn of others. Feed me more, and I¡¯ll forge your world.¡± Her lie coiled: *His fire¡¯s my freedom.* Zera trailed, plotting beneath her shroud, "Onto the next city?" Wordlessly, Benedict turned and left, leaving behind the remains of a once growing city, all of its inhabitants turned into a memory.