When he stepped into the coffee house, the young woman looked up. Disappointment crept through her eyes when she saw him, and she turned her eyes back to her cup.
She sat at their usual table. It had become an unspoken routine between them to meet here, always at the same time.
Xian walked up to her and sat down, in the same chair he always sat in.
Her eyes went back to him and blinked.
“I’m sorry, I’m waiting for someone...”
“Hello, Cora,” he said softly.
She frowned. “Do I know you?”
“Under a different name, yes. When we first met,” he pointed at the counter behind them, “we were sitting there. You told me how everyone on this world was filled with anger...”
Cora stared at him. “Ed?”
He motioned to a waiter and ordered the same coffee he always ordered.
“How is it possible?” she asked as her hand reached out to his face, hovering over his scar without touching it. She pulled back and looked down, embarrassed. “I don’t understand.”
“What you met before was a dreamskin. This is the real me.”
“A dreamskin?”
He nodded as the waiter brought his cup. Waited for him to step away before leaning closer to his friend.
“This body has been sleeping for thousands of years. So I’ve been using constructs... Have you heard of dreamcatchers?”
“No,” she said, looking even more confused now than when the conversation had started.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The technology never went far. It was something they experimented with on Earth, before the Erethian Empire began to spread through the stars. It allowed them to send someone into the dreams of other people. To help them cope with nightmares, for instance. Or, more simply, to study the nature of dreams...”
“Are you saying the past few days have all been a dream?”
He smiled. “Not at all. In fact, dreamskins are, in many ways, the opposite of that ancient technology. Whereas they would send a real person into a dream, I was sending a dream within the real world.”
“Ed wasn’t a dream! He was tangible. He could hold things, drink that very coffee you’re drinking right now...”
“I am simplifying things, to make it easier to understand. It’s really much more complex than that. The gist of it though is that it was an entirely dreamt vessel that could interact with the world as if it were real. I gave it an identity, a history, a set of skills... It had limitations, but it allowed me to walk among humans while I slept.”
He bit down on his lip, wondering if he wasn’t giving out too much information. Not that he felt like he should hold anything back from Cora, but it was bound to lead to more questions, and there was only so much time he could afford to spend answering them.
“You’re not human?”
“Well, no. My people are called the Rissl... We are worldbuilders. Most of us are, anyway.”
“Worldbuilders?”
“We make planets. Shape their continents. Regulate weather patterns. Generate life. Stuff like that.”
“Are you a god?”
Xian almost choked on his drink.
“There are no such things as gods!”
“You don’t believe in anything?”
“Law is the religion of our people.”
“So you don’t have gods?”
“Few of us do. Though there are those who believe in the One True God.”
“You say you’ve slept thousands of years... How old are you?”
He grimaced. “After a few millennia, I stopped counting.”
“So... you have powers... you’re immortal... how can you not be a god?”
“My ‘powers’ are the product of science, nothing more. And I have a longer lifespan, not immortality. That, too, is the product of science.”
“That feels like trying to split a grain of dust—”
“Alright. Look at it this way, then. What is the ultimate function of a god?”
“To create life... Which you do.”
“But then, ask yourself: who created us? Are we supposed to have created ourselves? If not, then surely we cannot be gods. There would have to be someone above us. But then, who would have created him? Can’t you see it’s a neverending cycle? This is why I say there are no such things as gods. The concept itself is an inherent impossibility.”
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She looked skeptical as she sipped quietly from her cup. Her eyes kept going back to his face.
“You look familiar,” she said.
“I’ll be getting a lot of that, I expect,” he lamented. “My face has been plastered on a wall for the past five thousand years. It was not supposed to be seen by anyone, but a group of archaeologists stumbled upon it...”
Her eyes went wide as he spoke. “The Face of Xian!”
He nodded.
“So you are a god!”
He sighed.
This was going to be more difficult than expected.
***
Her first thought had been to go to her uncle, but she quickly realized it would not have been safe—for either of them. She couldn’t ask him to harbor a fugitive, plus he’d be one of the first they’d go to.
So instead, she dove into the poorest part of the city.
The planet she had always hated so much became even more of a nightmare for her, now that she was on foot. Thankfully, her house had not been too far from the outskirts of the city. She’d had to hide in the bushes many times, though, to avoid detection, whenever the police drove by. She’d stayed off the road, too, though always within sight as the vuulthuric wilderness was not exactly safe.
There was no rain, but the winds were roaring around her, constantly blowing her long hair back into her face. It was difficult to walk, except those few times when it changed direction—then, it felt like she was sprouting wings and she had to be careful not to let herself get blown into the air and tossed like a leaf.
But most of the time she had walked against the wind. It felt like forcing your way through an invisible wall of goo.
The stink of sulfur did not help, of course, as it permeated into her clothes, her skin, her nostrils. She felt sick to her stomach.
But she held strong and carried on.
Once she reached the city limits, the buildings provided some limited sheltering from the winds, but she’d only feel at ease once she’d found a place to stay.
There were many hotels in the heart of the city that asked no questions. They were cheap, rundown, with questionable cleanliness, but it wasn’t like she had too many other options.
It felt good just to be indoors, she reflected as she walked out of the billowing wind.
Her breath was heavy, her hair disheveled, and her face red from the constant battering she’d had to endure.
She was asked to pay upfront, of course. She knew she could not use any form of traceable payment method, or she’d get caught within the hour. She’d withdrawn a large amount at the first credis she came across—figuring at some point they were likely to block her accounts—and hurried away from the scene before the police showed up.
After paying the required amount, she locked herself in the small, dank room and crashed on the bed. It felt wet and filthy, but she did not care. She was too tired to care.
What was she going to do?
How was she going to get herself out of this mess?
The police couldn’t help her this time... they were the ones looking for her!
There was a growing knot in her stomach.
A part of her mind was screaming, telling her she would get caught, that they would convict her for a crime she had not committed—just like they had convicted her parents...
But the more rational part of her resisted the urge to panic. She would not give up. There had to be something she could do.
Her eyes closed, and she finally fell into a troubled sleep.
***
Who did that human worm think he was? How dare he make him wait like this?
There was rage in his heart as Valerian paced back and forth.
His latest servant, a lank and meek old man named Willard, remained quiet in a corner of the room.
“Why has he not returned yet?” finally yelled the would-be god.
“Perhaps,” ventured the servant, “he is preparing himself to not offend your Lordship...”
The Zendaar glared at him.
“Who are you? Where is Liss?”
It was the second time that question had been asked of him in the past hour, so the human brought his head down, forehead pressed against the cold stone floor.
“I am Willard, oh Magnificent One. The wretched Liss displeased your Illuminous Self. In your infinite wisdom, you deemed her unfit to serve you. Her corpse now rots in the pits of your dungeons. Then, in your infinite wisdom, you allowed I, the humble Willard, to be blessed with your presence.”
Valerian stared at the worm. Snorted. “Indeed. Very well. Remember your place, and perhaps I shall allow your blessing to continue.”
He started pacing again.
“Am I supposed to wait for this man? Who does he think I am? Does he not know I could rip him apart with my bare hands if I so chose? That mask should be mine! It is mine! None other than me deserves to possess it... Is this not true?” he asked, suddenly darting his glare in the servant’s direction.
Willard’s head went down to the floor again. “It is quite true, your magnificence. None other than you deserves to wield its power.”
“Exactly right.”
Again, the Zendaar snorted and paced. He remained quiet for a long time as he reflected on this great injustice.
“Immortality!” he spat suddenly. “As if anyone would give one such as he something so unique and beautiful. Who does he think he is? I would have slit his throat as soon as the mask was in my hands. Fool!”
The servant would not say anything that could anger his master, so he failed to point out the human was, perhaps, not so foolish if he had not returned.
“Well! That mask shall be mine, whether this human likes it or not. I am done waiting!”
He grinned as he sat on his throne.
“Liss!” The name died on his lips as he frowned. His gaze went to Willard. “Ah, yes. She was punished, wasn’t she? You, then! I would you bring me the swiftest of my servants. One with no shame, no compunction, and a great amount of stealth... Is this understood?”
“Very much so, your Lordship. I know just the one.”
Valerian grinned.
“Perfect. Go, then. Fetch!”
Willard turned and scurried out of the room.
***
Ten miles west of Joqqal lies the forest of Alpan Hov. It is a quiet and exotic place, with ancient trees and plants that can be found nowhere else on the planet—let alone in the universe.
Daily tours take any interested party within the dense foliage, to reveal its more unique sites...
There is a grotto there, with quartz walls and a floor that looks like ice—though it is not. If one was to touch it, they would feel its warm, rugged surface under their fingers.
Well beyond the grotto is a stream of molten emeralds... One might think the vivid green of its flow due to some strange pigmentation, or perhaps an optical illusion caused by the rays of the sun... But, in fact, the water there—despite not generating steam—is so hot it boils. So hot it is capable of melting the emeralds that lie at its bottom.
More toward the center of the forest is a grove of oddly shaped trees. As the winds blow through the peculiar pattern, they produce a soft whistling sound that legends say is really the voices of the gods, whispering between them about the future of this world.
Some have tried to decipher the words in those whispers, claiming that doing so would unlock secrets and reveal all that is to come.
Had someone managed to do this, perhaps they would have had some warning of the fire.
It started as a flicker, a small thing at the northern edge of the forest. Though no one would ever know this. It was a mere spark that lit up a trunk, then quickly spread to the trees around it.
The leaves went up in smoke. The wood shriveled and charred as it was consumed by the blazing flames.
The fire raged on until it was so large it could have been seen from space.
Many were trapped within the fiery inferno. Some in the grotto, on the bank of the stream, at the grove, or in any number of other key sites.
The flames reached out to them, like so many greedy, hungry mouths.
Though it happened in the middle of the afternoon, it felt like night as the smoke darkened the sky.
Hundreds of screams rose from parched throats and panicked minds... but all were muffled by the loud crackle of the flames.