Chapter 6

I had never believed in magic.

I enjoyed all sorts of fantasies stories, from the classical Lord of The Rings, Wheel of Time to more recent ones like the Mistborn Trilogy. When my selection of books ran out, I even settled for the more popular teen novels like Mortal Instruments but they weren’t to my liking. I was a firm believer in that if something wasn’t a well known classic but several copies of it could be found in a library, it’s there for a reason.

But the books were fun. It was fun to read about vampires, super teenagers, and fantasies whose only purpose was to stroke the over-inflated egos of all those that were desperate for recognition.

Even during my more… inspired periods of my pre-life, I never abandoned the Arts. Of course, most of that contributed to not being able to participate in almost any physical actives, so that I must find other means to keep myself occupied.

Words, images — imagined or otherwise, held a special spot in my heart.

They are free.

Unlike me.

They were a form of therapy, perhaps.

But I never believed in magic.

Every day, my missing leg served as a reminder that the world favors no one. Every day, the tubes and plastic that ran through my veins told me that I was not born to live. Every day, my withering body screamed, struggling for a single breath.

My world was made of moldy white tiled walls, sanitation, and rhythmic beating. It was made of doctors, nurses, needles, and latrine.

Every day, it reminded me that no matter how much I scribble on a piece of paper, how much I wished that life was a dream and that I might wake up just that one day, one day, to be able to walk. To be able to stand on my own, breathe on my own, live on my own.

I watched by as people enter and leave the orphanage. I watched by as people enter and leave the hospital, crying and hugging, tears running down their faces.

I knew the doctors that came and went from my ward weren’t sponsored by some secret admirer. Certainly, no one cared enough for me to actually spend money on me — my disease, however, was worth noticing. It was obvious that it was government funded, my decision signed away by the handlers at the orphanage, that I didn’t matter at all.

From the crappy environment but strangely top of the line equipment, from the multitude of medical certificates to the complete lack of therapy and interaction — it was obvious. I imagined that a reporter would arrive to save me, or that a miracle would befall me and somehow I can walk again.

Of course, it didn’t happen.

Nor did it matter. My own organs had deteriorated over time.

I was a corpse kept alive by a machine, in oh so many ways.

It was a reminder, it was always a reminder of what was real, what was not.

…

I still kept at it though, despite knowing all of that.

It didn’t matter if it existed only in my imagination, somehow.

Was it escapism?

…

Probably.

I didn’t believe in magic.

Not when I died, not when I resurfaced again in the [Beyond].

Certainly, there were chants, there were those beams of light, those raw states of being and whatnot, but they weren’t magic to me. There are no miracles, and there will never be.

And now, even as the [Essence] rushed out of me, as my intent formed and consolidated, it was not magic. In my body, I felt my [Breath Gland] dry up, my [Deposit] draining rapidly on its own, rapidly shrinking and shrinking as I focused.

Too focused to care.

There is no magic, and I refused to call it that.

Those three Humans, Bennet, Agnes and whatnot — they must have answers. I couldn’t let them leave, not until I could ask my questions.

The world shook as a full three hundred worth of [Essence] escaped from my dwindling reserves. The air flashed white as my words carried forth my will, the [Essence] that became part of my being once again spread out.

It was a queer sensation — that somehow your mind found itself laid so thin over an area, so suddenly and intricately aware of everything that was. That lasted for a split moment before the world flashed again so blindingly white.

I saw the three stumbled as the ground shifted, something settling over the area. Somehow, I knew that it was all my doing. Around us four in a large circle, the world fogged over, the [Ash Trees] in the distance suddenly blurring out and faded from sight as if it was hidden behind a cloud.

It was only a moment, a moment where suddenly all sounds of the forest from beyond were abruptly cut off, the leafs that were shaking, the [Green Worms] that were scurrying away — the world went quiet.

Sealed off. Isolated.

I knew what I did, somehow.

The [Priest] regained his footing and kept running, but I did nothing more. In a few seconds, the two Acolytes ran by too, crashing through the undergrowth.

I left them alone.

And I waited, facing the direction that they ran off to, ahead of me.

Then, from behind me, they emerged again, stilling following the line provided by their [Way Finders]. Out from the mist, they came, running through the same spot frantically, passing by the same trees and once again disappeared in front of me.

And again.

And again.

They ran and ran, like a looped video — except that it wasn’t.

There was no way out. Forward only leads you back, their Ariadne’s Spool bringing them nowhere. Them, in their single-mindedness, didn’t notice.

I felt myself giggling again in my mind, watching the three circling around like hamsters on a wheel. It was ridiculous the way the three ran in absolute terror — it was like a prank that had gone so horribly right, that even its actual context was overlooked in favor of hilarity.

Holy shit, I just made a priest run in circles in a forest.

It was so deliciously evil that I couldn’t help but laugh and laugh. It probably was terrible behavior, seeing that they were genuinely afraid for their lives, but it was funny the way they resolutely followed the line of light like it was their lifeline.

It is to them, genius. You just murdered and ate their entire forest-full of hocus-pocus mammals.

Shush you. Funny stuff is funny.

They are afraid of you, idiot. Do you want to be scary?

They are just spooking themselves. I’m not actually doing anything… much.

Eventually, the [Priest] Bennet stopped, his arms leaning against a tree as he heaved and heaved, sweat pouring down his face. His legs shook and trembled as he gasped for breath, back hunched over from the exertion. Behind him, his two acolytes ran past him without even batting an eye at him, running straight forward without giving a flying fuck to their instructor, the flying fuck.

…

That was a terrible joke, Elisa. You can’t just call his hocus-pocus wings flying fucks, you know.

It was fitting! His students abandoned him just as quickly as he ran off initially. It serves him right!

Bennet watched in despair as the two zoomed out of sight, leaving the old fart behind. He rasped out pathetically, “W-wait! Don’t leave me behind —”. While I couldn’t see the actual leafs, I could see that his robe was now completely stained with dirt and twigs, sporting a tear here and there. Truly, it fully showcases his dignity from before.

Also, dirt is magical apparently.

I waited more.

The two Acolytes sprinted back into view, still running. Unknowingly, they went past the [Priest] — again. Bennet, however, stared after them disbelievingly. He rubbed his eyes as the two once again disappeared into the fog, following the [Way Finders] doggedly.

He blinked rapidly as the forest quieted again, slowly turned back to at the spot where his two students once emerged from, mumbling, “What the..?” Slowly, he stepped into the newly made path on the forest ground, recently trodden into existence by their repeated passing.

Ooh, did he realize…?

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As if waiting for the cue, the two Acolytes appeared from the back again, their breathing loud and ragged, their eyes drooping. Agnes mumbled loudly as they floundered through the underbrush, “D-don’t g-give up-p — the-t exit-t must be nearby—“

At this point, Bennet seemed to have realized he chose a terrible spot to stand. He made an effort to dodge, screeching, “Stop!”

Ouch.

With the inevitability of a car crash, he was hit full force by the two Acolytes with a meaty smack. In a tangle of limbs and bodies, the three tumbled down onto the ground, rolling a little bit.

That was…

I was at a lost for words, too shocked to even laugh.

It was too perfect to be true. Proof that fate exists!

The trio groaned and moaned as they laid there. It took a while for them to return to reality, realizing that their crotches and armpits were placed in extremely unconventional spots among each other’s anatomy. Like zombies digging themselves out of a grave, they rolled apart with strangled noises, clothes disheveled and stained. One of their bags seemed to have split open, its contents spilling out onto the floor with various degrees of shininess.

There goes dignity, the emo of the human-values family.

I left them alone to reorganize themselves and surveyed their items instead. Down in the bush, scattered across the dirt was a curious array of stuff.

Some of them were clearly “mundane”, being almost invisible to my eyes but still leaving imprints in the dirt. I recognized canteens, boxes of wrapped foodstuffs, some selection of scrolls and other survival equipment such as ropes. These weren’t important, however.

What was eye-catching were the ones that glowed.

As expected, there was a bright shiny cross-shaped talisman among the mess. Aside from that, there was a selection of strangely shaped stones, almost like one of those oriental chess pieces — circular, flat and engraved with a symbol carved atop. The stones themselves didn’t seem to be much of anything special, seeing that it was mostly transparent to me, but the strange letter engraved on top was glowing rather furiously. Furthermore, I felt something inside the pieces, something… familiar, more tangible than the reality that the stone was located in. Most were empty, but those that did…

Interesting. It seemed to have something of the [Beyond] in them.

I shifted my eyes away from them to the last interesting item. It was shaped like a ball, a mesh wrapped around it like a net. Inside it was a subdued glow, the strange alphabet of their’s scribbled all over the inside. Somehow, I could tell that… hocus-pocus stuff inside was nowhere “weak”, but more rather… repressed, stored.

A bomb? Those scribbles… runes?

This is not Lord of the Rings, so it might not be —

But what else could it be?

“— Father Bennet?” The boy said with a surprised tone, bringing me back to the present situation. I lifted myself from the ground, twisting away to hide behind a tree. He had somehow freed himself from the tangle, but his bag was open and empty.

Father Bennet didn’t look too happy. While he didn’t seem injured at all, his aura of light seemed to have waned somewhat. He ignored the boy’s words completely, opting to look around instead. Slowly, he raised his hands at the closest [Way Finder], chanting, “Oh ancestors, may your light guide our path to home — {Path}!”

The paper flashed, once — before bursting apart into flame. The fire came as quickly as it came, leaving nothing behind on the tree but a nail. As if the power lines were cut, the entire string of [Way Finders]— before and after — too snuffed out suddenly. Just like that, the previously light show worthy [Path] disappeared,

The two Acolytes stared at the [Priest] with their mouths open, dumbfounded.

…

Okay then. What did that achieve?

Bennet’s fingers twitched, his arms settling down gently. He took a deep breath, slow and methodical. I could see him swallow, his limbs rigid. Gradually, he turned back to the two, speaking softly, “Oh, were we not fools…”

“Father Bennet, how —? What was that?” Agnes asked nervously, brushing herself off, “Did you…”

“Teleport?” he answered sardonically, “No, I’m afraid not. That was far beyond my skill set as [Priest]. No, the Scripts didn’t combust because of a failed incantation.”

“T-then how…?” The boy stammeringly asked, fumbling.

“A [Seal]. The forest was sealed by the demon,” Bennet said, leaning against the tree, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “We’ve been going in sodding circles! This is — this is not the forest we were in before. It is… something other.”

“…Other?”

“A demon's seal, acolyte. That meant that we were sent to a pocket zone, an area that only exists within its foul magic.”

“… I-is there no way out?” Agnes asked, staring into the forest, hugging herself. Suddenly, I realized that it was likely already night time in their reality. That would explain how they managed to slam together in the middle of the road or how they were stumbling the entire way.

“Aside from waiting for the powers to dissipate?” he laughed dryly, “I am afraid the only options were to face it directly or attempt to dispel the [Seal] ourselves.”

“Then we must —“

“Because it’s too late,” Bennet said, gazing off, “We were caught like fish in a barrel. This is no common demon — there was never a chance for us to escape.”

Um…

Huh.

“But first, we need light if we were to even attempt,” said the [Priest], gesturing at the boy, “Alex, where’s your lamp?”

“Oh um…” The boy, now named Alex, fumbled for his backpack. He reached a hand into it, his face paling as he realized that all of his items were left sprawled all over the forest floor. He immediately squatted down and patted the floor frantically, trying to locate his items.

Since I couldn’t differentiate between ‘light’ and ‘dark’, I could clearly see the items that were littered across the ground. It was both endearing and frustrating to see someone else fumble in the dark while being unable to help.

Eventually, after some rustling, Alex seemed to have found what he was looking for. In his hand was the strange netted-orb like object with words scribbled all over the inside of it. He held the ball up into the air and chanted, “By my command — {Light}!”

The originally tiny spark inside the orb suddenly waxed and grew, turning into a small bundle of fire. While I couldn’t see the actual like, it was apparent that the three could. Alex let out a sigh of relief, holding the [Lamp] with two hands. With the light in hand, he proceeded to gradually clean up his scattered belongings.

Bennet nodded grimly, “Agnes, go get the salt and silver flakes,”

“Yes, Father,” Agnes quickly obeyed, reaching for her own supplies. Now that you know you are screwed together, suddenly you became so reliant. Didn’t you abandon him just a while earlier?

Meanwhile, Bennet himself reached into his robes and somehow withdrew a number of sharp pointy objects — stakes.

Does he keep an entire arsenal in his clothes?

He bent down carefully, his back creaking slightly as he poked around the dirt. Somehow satisfied with his patch of earth, he stuck a stick into it, digging deep. He cranked up again and waddled to another point in the ground, squinting.

He stuck another stake into the ground and stood up again.

What is he doing…?

Oh.

Before I knew it, he had made a rough circle around the three with his five stakes, equally measured despite having been planted by hand. With a gesture, Agnes handed over a large pouch to him. Bennet juggled the weight for a bit, nodding in gruff approval.

Untying the knot at the tip, he delicately poured the contents — a white-silver mixture — along with the stakes, completing the circle.

Oi. He’s making something. Why the heck are you doing nothing?

Oh right. Um…

Then, it was at this point I realized despite having secured a location for us to converse, I got several major issues with my communication plan, namely:

1. I couldn’t talk.

2. I don’t have any questions to ask.

…

I am an idiot.

What could I even ask? The location the forest was in hardly mattered to me, or their position in society, or what I should be doing. None of that matter to me since I am flitting from worlds to worlds. In fact, I was fairly certain that wherever these people came from, it is not Earth.

… Or was it?

A chill came over me, suddenly uncertain again. With all honesty, I couldn’t be sure that I’m not on Earth — some far-off corner, perhaps. Or the past, or future.

But does it matter? Whether I am on Earth or not, I’m still dead and have no desire to return back to my previous life.

…

What do I want?

…

I…

There are no answers to that.

I remembered my wish from before — when I was still alive, when I was still bound to the hospital bed and missing a leg. I had wished to be able to walk, to be able to live on my own.

… I got what I wanted, didn’t I?

Didn’t I?

…

But now what?

What do I want now? I don’t have a family to look after, don’t have a house to be in. I…

I don’t even belong a society.

There is absolutely nothing that I really want.

…

… Conventional wants don’t really apply to me, huh?

What would I need? What would someone — someone without a home or even a body want? What would I —

WHOA whoa whoa, there. Calm down, me. Existential crisis alert.

In my contemplation, the [Priest] had finished his hocus-pocus ritual, having been mumbling a hymn the entire time. The lines, I remember it being ‘salt and silver’, now formed a basic pentagram on the forest ground, shining brightly. The man clasped his hands together as if in a prayer, he hollered, “ — strength. By the Mercy of the Ancestors — {Sanctuary}!”

The dirt around the circle suddenly went flying, spraying into the air and away from the line of salt. It flashed as if it was alight before slowly powering down again, settling to a stable hum. Bennet held his arms out in a cross, eyes closed in concentration and sweat pouring off him, his aura of light draining rapidly out of him into the ground below. Behind him stood the two acolytes, cowering fearfully.

The circle on the ground glowed brightly, the silver and white power seemed more like fluorescent tubes than minerals, casting a shimmering barrier of light around them.

Oh great. Now they made a shield. Should have remembered that salt and silver would be anti-spooks.

Bennet said righteously despite looking he ran a marathon through a hurricane, “I’ve set up a barrier for now. However, my powers were spent, so you must complete the protect me while I recover my strength.”

“Yes, Father Bennet.”

I slowly approached the barrier. For some inexplicable reason, I knew that the wall of light that surrounds the three was sturdier than it looks. I extended a [Feeler], tentatively brushing against the barrier.

It felt like I was touching a wall that is made of cardboard and plaster. It was undoubtedly solid but at the same time was rather fragile looking, like a sold shoulder-ram would shatter it easily. I withdrew my [Feeler] —

Huh.

The tip of my feeler, sheathed in scales, was smoking.

Damaged?

The surface of the scale that briefly had contact with the barrier was marred, a spot of opaque among the crystalline perfection. It didn’t hurt at all but it was noticeable, like a scratch on a fingernail.

Just from a brief exposure to the vertical light show, it was enough to scrape a minuscular bit off my dense [Essence] armor.

I scolded myself, It’s an anti-spook barrier. I shouldn’t just touch it willy-nilly, shouldn’t I? That could’ve been something really dangerous, you know?

Bennet frowned, “The demon had yet to make a move.”

“I-is that not a g-good thing?” The boy said, still holding onto his lamp-ball thing.

“Perhaps, but if I were to be locked in a room with a hornet I would prefer to know where it is,” Bennet said, eyes narrowing, “Agnes, you still remember the Rite of Sight?”

Agnes nodded shakily, “Shall I cast it?”

“Do so. We don’t know what the demon is not doing anything and I dislike that.”

Oh, so they got something that allows them to see me?

The girl reached into one of her pouches and brought out three strips of paper that were not unlike the [Way Finder]. On them once again were scribbled with illegible writing, but these pieces were pockmarked with drawn figures of eyes and a single human figure on each one.

Agnes held the papers up and intoned, “By the power of the ancestors, grant us the boon of sight, to delve our minds beyond the veil and see the hidden ones!”

She threw the paper up in the air, yelling out, “{True Sight}!”

The papers glowed brightly in the air, trails of hocus-pocus streaming out from the girl and into the fibers. They hung in the air, all powered by themselves. With a phoom! the papers ignited into white flames.

Did the spell fail?

No, the paper burned up, but the senseless written words remained in the air like suspended snowflakes, shining like light glancing off ice. The mumble-jumble coalesced together into three different balls of text, like the lamp the boy held in his arms.

All of a sudden, the balls zoomed straight for the three standing apostles of their own ancestors. They didn’t move as the hocus-pocus pierced their heads, settling behind their eyeballs like they belonged there the whole time. Their eyes glowed, rays of blue colored light extruding from them like they had torches instead of jelly in their eyeballs.

They looked rather spooky too. All white and glowing and blue flaming eyes.

Blue? Just like the creatures from the [Beyond]. They got blue eyes, don’t they?

… Do you really want them to see you? You are a—“

It was at this point, all three of them swiveled their eyes on me, mouths open. The boy dropped his lamb-ball onto the ground where it rolled to a stop against Bennet’s feet. There was a moment of absurd tranquility as if all four of us were in absolute denial.

Please don’t freak out, please don’t freak out, please don’t freak out —

I waved a feeler at them, and they screamed at me.

Fuck! For the love of God —