Daniel
As the group unwound for the night, they fragmented into trios and pairs. Rana invited Daniel on a walk, crossing several dunes for privacy. The cool evening sand reminded him of his room in Eastwood.
He broke the silence. “Isn’t that the third cryptic poem you’ve recited? Where’d they come from?”
“My brother taught me… They sound better in Toadish.”
“That’s interesting, can I hear?”
Rana glanced at him, then the ocean. “Toadish is weird.”
“A.K.A. interesting. Please? I’ll owe you one.”
She gave him her rehearsed condescending smirk. “I have an adequate stockpile of favors, thank you.”
“Can I take out a loan? Count it as multiple favors?” Daniel pleaded with her.
“You know you’re repaying me one day.”
He nodded enthusiastically, eager to have his curiosity sated.
One last piercing stare, and she closed her eyes. Rana repeated the gods’ footprints poem in a guttural language halfway to a frog’s ribbit. Few would call it pretty, but Daniel counted himself among them. She crooned rhymes in a cadence intoning on both inhale and exhale, making sounds unlike any human music.
“You were right,” Daniel agreed, “It does sound better in Toadish.”
The two of them continued their walk in companionable quiet. The beach shimmered silver in the moonlight.
“I asked Cassie how her magic worked.”
Rana nodded. “A little innate insight comes with the territory. Trust your instincts.”
“I’m going to ask Lea about her Charm next.”
The frog girl stopped. Then she turned and looked him in the eye. “Do you trust me?”
“You saved my life,” he began without hesitation as if the answer should be obvious. Her expression demanded more. She needed truth. “Yes.”
She about-faced, and he stared at her shoulders. “Whenever you think of that, remember you trust me, and stop. I take full responsibility for the consequences.” Then she resumed walking.
Trust. Daniel said he trusted her. A statement far more problematic than anticipated. He’d taken it lightly, despite his intentions. He wouldn’t have agreed if he’d known she’d forbid him from not just asking Lea but thinking about it altogether. What were the consequences Rana mentioned? What if she couldn’t actually handle them?
Trust.
Daniel gave her his word, and he resolved to stand by it.
When they reached a level stretch of sand, Rana tossed him a crystal ball. “Shew Stone, gift of the Nightshades.” He examined the device he’d seen others use, excited to finally try it himself. The glass felt cool and smooth. Its opaque cloudy interior concealed something. “It specializes in storing and projecting information. Picture an image, push it into the Shew Stone, and draw it out.”
He created the likeness of a chessboard in the air. Daniel moved one of the pieces and grinned. “Want to play?”
She hesitated. “Not in the mood.” Daniel forgot his disappointment as Rana drew her Shew Stone. A pitch-black billowing cloud enveloped them both. No, not a cloud; space—darkness pinpricked with stars—surrounded Daniel. He fumbled in the void to regain his balance.
Then he stood in a sunny field where the grass didn’t shrivel at his touch. Children ran into view. He recognized his six friends plus Nes and Harumi, as they were before Eastwood. Before Daniel and his mother joined the T.O. The eight of them laughed and played together.
A tiny, adorable Rana stopped and turned to face him, “Do you know what you see?”
“This is… a memory.”
The child Rana dashed to join the others, leaving behind the teenage Rana with her Shew Stone held out to Daniel. He raised his stone to hers. The crystal balls clinked together, and she lowered her arm. Lines of text swam in his stone, which he drew into the air. A chime sounded in his head and the unknown language resolved into focus—the Rosetta stone at work.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Now we are connected, it read. No matter how many worlds separate us, we can communicate in this way.
“Then why can’t we contact the T.O.?”
Behind her, a young Lea opened a portal and led the others through. “Once, a group of children went exploring. Thinking it a game, they had no mind for the danger. They fought a beast and barely survived. When the adults discovered this, they took the children’s Portal Rings and Shew Stones as punishment. One of the kids managed to find Shew Stones for her friends, but this was kept secret from their guardians.”
Impressed by the fantastic fidelity of her memories, Daniel looked down at his Shew Stone, ripe with possibilities. “Can we use illusion magic to fight?”
Rana put away her stone. “Want to bet your debt? Double or nothing,” she said and took a comfortable defensive stance.
That sounded like an exciting game to Daniel. He started by switching the scenery to the side of a steep hill to throw her off-kilter. Then he surrounded Rana with a dozen clones of himself attacking. Meanwhile, the real Daniel circled her, invisible, as she withdrew an object.
Piercing not-white light shredded the illusions like burning film. Rana stood triumphant with the Aurvandil held high, smirk flashing at an exposed Daniel.
“That’s hardly fair.”
“It’s fair,” Rana countered. “You didn’t know the light gem dispels simple illusions, and you lost.” Daniel found the humor to laugh at himself. He should’ve known better than to try and pull one over on her at this point. “Survival means choosing battles you know you can win.”
The difference between them was attitude. Even now, Daniel wanted to think in terms of games and puzzles instead of fighting and sparring. He needed to start taking things seriously.
“How do I become strong?”
“The answer is simple and difficult. Learn and grow and fight and strive for years upon decades into centuries, and even then, you know nothing. That is the way of things.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Daniel wanted to be able to help his friends. If the Wilderness was as dangerous as Rana said, he needed to get stronger. Any shortcut would be tempting. “The Wendigo said… When she tried to kill me, the Wendigo said she’d become a monster to gain more power. Is that even possible? And what is a monster?”
Rana didn’t give a straight answer. “Wendigo was both right and wrong. Turning into a monster doesn’t increase your power or grant new abilities. The Toads have this well-documented. All exceptions are apocryphal.”
“I don’t see the advantage,” Daniel said, thinking of the Wendigo’s terrible threat. “Why do that to yourself?”
She shook her head. “Becoming a monster isn’t something achieved, but a consequence of the dark road many go down for many reasons. Either they know breaking the Taboo is wrong and damn the costs, or they believe their actions are justified.”
Even more confused about the Wendigo’s motivation, he asked, “Where did the myth that ‘becoming a monster makes you stronger’ come from?”
“Daniel, how much more dangerous would you be if you actually tried to kill people and break things regardless of collateral damage?”
He knew the answer instantly. That very thing separated him from Perses.
Thinking back to Eastwood, what could have stopped him from systematically targeting structural supports until the building collapsed on all the soldiers, researchers, and his friends inside? Turning his goal-oriented strength from saving others to pure destruction would be a massive power boost. With a simple change in attitude, Daniel could demolish an entire city in a single day.
“Monsters are feared for their lack of inhibitions. Everyone has inner boundaries, whether squeamishness, common decency, or moral code. A monster uses their abilities’ maximum potential to do things we’d never consider. A monster doesn’t care about law, honor, or anything except their obsession. No underhanded trick is beneath them. No heinous act is unthinkable. No hesitation.
“If a demon is pure evil, a monster is pure insanity. A narrow mind that sacrificed humanity to its fixation. Most monsters bear a distinct mark, red eyes. Monster Shifters, it’s said, are cursed to never regain their humanoid form.”
Chills ran up his arms as Daniel pictured such a being. “What kind of Taboos?”
“Don’t worry, Daniel.” She guessed his fear. “Becoming a monster isn’t so easy. Mere manslaughter isn’t enough. You can conceive of forgiving a tragic accident or an act of self-defense, especially if they are repentant. But you’d never come to terms with someone who premeditated murder and ate the body. That’s what makes it Taboo. And, until they cross the line, the transformation isn’t permanent.”
“Wait, some humans commit Taboos. Why don’t they turn into monsters?”
“Who says they don’t? Do you think not Shifting or a lack of glowing eyes keeps humans from becoming monsters?”
Come to think, he knew two such humans. They pursued their goals without regard for life or law—General Smith and Director Minos. One attempted to kill him without hesitation, and the other committed murder with the barest justification. Yet Minos spared Daniel, Mary, and the others because their deaths would not further her plans. Hers was an internally consistent evil one could reason with.
“For everything I’ve said, keep in mind a monster is not always your enemy. Each is unique in their motives and methods.” He didn’t like the way she spoke matter-of-factly like she’d known a monster personally. All this depressing talk had put Daniel in a morbid mood.
“Rana, I can ask you anything, right?” She gave a slight nod. He pushed on. “When my mother fought the demon, there at the end, did you see anything… unusual?”
For a long time, to the point it made Daniel uncomfortable, she didn’t reply. Then Rana said, “No.”
“When she called on Perses and Kāli, I heard her talking. I saw her wield a scythe and cut It and… I don’t think Moloch can come back the way you said demons do. He’s gone for good.”
Rana looked into his eyes as if searching for truth and said, “The world is full of terrible things, Daniel. It can be hard to see the good. I want to believe you, Daniel. I want to believe in hope.”