“Knowing too much about other people puts you in their power, they have a claim on you, you are forced to understand their reasons for doing things and then you are weakened.”

― Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye

A slow drip, a wet stamp that drummed a rhythm on Ven's face. It drew him back, freed from the nightmares of his past. The cool stone under his back contrasted with the unbearable heat in the air. Darkness reigned, disrupted only by the familiar text at the bottom of his vision.

"Still here?" Ven murmured. The text had been there since his rebirth, a countdown of a hundred years that had progressed to ninety. Ten more and he could claim a wish, any wish he desired.

"Welcome, to the tombs..." Callum's voice croaked in the darkness. "The last place you'll ever see."

"Why are we alive?" Ven pushed himself up, to a seated position. "I was definitely shot..."

"Yup," Callum laughed. "Patched us up, then tossed us in here to rot."

"Fitting, I suppose." Ven sighed. "We did the same to plenty of people."

"Yup!" Callum shuffled over to settle by Ven's side. "But we've got a chance."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm," Callum elbowed Ven in the ribs. "There are two of us in here, usually people are entombed alone."

"Great, we'll starve together," Ven shook his head. "Misery loves company."

"Nope," Callum's voice came softer, almost a whisper. "You'll make it once the mushrooms sprout, little brother."

"What are you talking about?"

Callum was silent, so Ven reached out to his brother. A ruddy heat, familiar and metallic, covered Callum's chest and neck.

"Callum!"

"You'll survive until age takes you," Callum murmured. "I promised Mother, I'd die before I let anyone hurt you."

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"I never even knew her, I..."

"SHUT UP!" Callum's fist found Ven's temple. "Once the mushrooms grow, you'll be fine. Just keep them fed and you'll have all you can eat..."

Ven clutched his brother, hands pressed to stem the tide of blood. Useless now, but he couldn't help himself.

"You're an idiot, we could have found another way..."

"Yah... we could have fought to the death, one brother eats the other." Callum laughed, his words bubbled and distorted.

"Exactly," Ven smiled between his tears. "I'd have won anyway, but it would have had more meaning that way."

"My final victory, to rob you of yours..."

Callum fell silent. A ragged breath escaped him, followed by another. Then nothing, just a stillness that left Ven alone.

"You always wanted the last laugh, brother."

Ven reached out and closed Callum's eyes. He steadied himself, then shoved the man under the trickle of water. Ten days... That was how long it took the pervasive fungus to grow. Ten days of starvation, locked in a room with his brother's corpse.

"Thank you, brother..."

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Days stretched to months, then years. An empty routine, spent in silent contemplation. The system text was his only companion, a count that displaced his freedom. Now it betrayed him. He survived for a hundred years on this world and made his wish.

The screen that only his eyes could see was still covered in errors. A barrage then went on and on, while the system repeated a single phrase.

"Processing... processing..."

"Looks like I'll join you soon," Ven hefted Callum's skull in one hand and nodded it like a puppet. "I did my best, but this life is too much."

Ten years in the humid cell placed a great burden on Ven's mind. A weight that became unbearable, once his system failed to deliver.

"Prossessing complete... wish function activated..."

Unopposable darkness swallowed Ven's consciousness. A black ocean of tar that smothered his thoughts. A grin formed on his lips as life escaped his ancient body. Maybe it's not so useless, after all... His wish had just taken some time for the system to work out.

"Wish function delayed... Activating secondary functions..."

"Magical world, here I... wait what?"

"Secondary functions active... Stasis mode engaged..."

"Stasis mod..."

Ven's world vanished. The void no longer pressed at his thoughts, as he had none. Time held still, locked in place, as Ven dreamed of nothing.

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A figure stared into a circular tempest, a small rift of broken glass suspended before him. Faces surfaced within each fragmented shard. His face was a smooth mirror, filled with thousands of eyes, each drawn to individuals within the vortex. He reached out and followed a rhythm that only he could hear, hands precise as they plucked free certain targets. A small shard, pinched tightly between two fingers, suddenly rippled.

Another has been lost. The stench of Fate is heavy today. The mirrored face squeezed, effort visible as the air around the figure distorted into a rainbow of destructive lights.

No matter, the last one to escape returned an abundance of knowledge. Its fingers snapped and drew a person out of the chaotic gateway of portraits. A man, taller than a bear.

"You will find the lost ones, and when you have returned them to me alive you will be allowed to sleep once more." The human-shaped being swept his cloaked arm.

"You're command is my will, master..."

"Now go, hide your traces well from Fate." The mirror flashed, filled with many deep frowns. "His ignorant interference cost us each time. We cannot let him find the missing before we can collect their data."

The herculean figure bowed low, and the silver mist that danced around their ankles wrapped about him. A spiral that consumed his form.

The tall man remained alone, his voluminous cloak disturbed. He flicked between thousands of indistinct features and shapes, male and female, animal and other. Only his mask stood, solid and blank, a touchstone in the chaos. Another frown painted itself over the mask, as brief as the first, before he reached out once more, and continued his strange work.

"Fate..." The man laughed. "You can't stop me, only slow me down."

Dozens of shards flew from the portal, men and women of all ages and sizes. He waved his arm and the silver mist took them.

"We'll see how your precious destiny fares, once I've found my way out of here..."