After ten minutes, and a brief spat between Rahm and a Llama-God, they arrived at a platform hovering in the sky. Jordan was still shocked at the casual violence his new Grandfather displayed, but with the way all the Spirits had been staring at Jordan, he found it hard not to get a little bit of satisfaction from it.
Regardless, the crowd jostled close as they approached the set of wide, opal stairs. Literal opal, of course, seamlessly stretching from the ground below to the platform above. One giant piece of glittering material without a single flaw to its opulence.
In other words—par for the course up here, Jordan dully noted.
As they began to ascend, Jordan spared a perplexed glance upwards. The platform they had nearly reached looked remarkably like a train station. It was long and rectangular, made of a silvery steel that hung in the air without any supports underneath, but it was openly parted down the middle. He presumed that was for whatever transit system that would be arriving soon. The only issue was there were no rails. Nothing but open space, bisecting the platform.
Jordan was ready to chalk that up to some new celestial bullcrap, maybe just a flying train or something, until upon cresting the stairs he saw a river of gold appear in the air. The line of hazy yellow stretched on into the horizon, multiple lines showing across what portions of the city he could see from his new vantage point.
“It wasn’t visible?” Jordan muttered. "Like the bypasses then?"
Rahm heard his question and responded, “Yup, though in this case it isn't an extra dimension. In the City some things are only visible from certain angles. Best not to worry about that—it’s all about perspective and it’s easy for people with in… well, it’s easy to get confused.” He ruffled Jordan’s messed up hair good naturedly, but Jordan snarled at him wildly before wincing—startled by the odd sound coming from the Brat’s mouth.
Why did I just…?
Rahm, however, just laughed again and grabbed Jordan’s hand with one of his spares. Jordan debated the merits of wrenching free, but the crowds around them were uncomfortably close. It was no different from his own world, he felt, when it came to the joys of overcrowded public transportation. So instead, he just glowered at the universe, and his memories, as they made their way.
“Aww, Aury, don’t pout like that.” Rahm chuckled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you your face will get stuck if you do that too much?”
“You’re one to talk asshat!” Jordan shot back, only causing more laughter from the old man who… wasn’t wheezing, Jordan realized. Hadn’t that been an issue the other day? The train chose that moment to appear, distracting Jordan from his thoughts, as he—
As he stared dumbfounded at it.
It chimed with golden bells and a chorus of angelic voices as it came in. With a series of segmented, repeating coaches strung together, it looked like a chain made of pure jade. Carved into its surface were an endless series of pictures and words, telling a story that spanned longer than a hundred novels, giving the whole structure an almost circuit board appearance from the lines of Orchalcum denoting the various arcs and passages.
Seeing the script filled Jordan’s heart with feelings of True Awe. Like whoever had made it had been in love with the very concept of love itself. It was Art calling to his soul and was enough to steal his breath away as he lost himself in a world of words.
But for all the beauty of the train itself, it was destroyed utterly by the machinations of the Gods.
On top of the train were hundreds of Bird-Gods. The men of the bunch had hunky bicep-swollen wings and wore wondrous robes of swirling silk and glittering jewels. They stood out with their massive headdresses holding the worlds most obvious metaphors in the form of oversized glittering train bells, two per each. Their female counterparts, on the other hand, had only simple white smocks. Their femininity was only apparent from the unmistakable, if muted, curves beneath their clothing.
But to destroy True Art, they had draped childish banners and flyers over the edges like advertisements, turning the whole thing into something like a mobile concert of indie artists trying to bring back a cappella. Worst of all—each one was trying to sing its own damn melody! They clashed with their neighbors, and turned the train into a garbled radio playing each station simultaneously. While everyone boarded the train, they all sang nonstop. At no point from arrival to destination, did they ever stop, it seemed.
“I don’t even… even anymore.” Jordan muttered.
Rahm was about to reply, when a few extra people shoved their way in, like idiots were want to do when they worried they’d miss a packed train. The worst offender ended up plastering his giant red baboon’s ass into Jordan’s face.
Of all the ones not to wear robes, are you serious!? It was like the damn Spirit was deliberately targeting him!
Jordan tried to get behind Rahm but was pressed in. Before he could suffocate, dying in the worst way his brain ever feared, Rahm noticed his plight, and then calmly hurled the Primate-God off the train.
The carriage-like doors closed to the sounds of the howling Spirit, who had landed back onto the platform. He was holding his leg shouting to the heavens and earth with such ear splitting ferocity, that even the army of Bird-Gods above couldn’t tune him out.
Rahm and Jordan stood there awkwardly, as people suddenly found a way to give them space. It took several minutes of travel, the beautiful golden city flashing by at incredible speeds in the windows, before the sounds of the Primate-God were finally gone. He had… a very energetic pair of lungs, Jordan noted.
Absently, Jordan spat out a bit of short hair that had… eww, gross! What the fuck man!?
Rahm noticed Jordan’s struggles, and pulled out a vial of something new. “Here, swish this. Don’t swallow though.” It was a darkly colored liquid, roiling with streams of dark green against the grey base.
Jordan took the vial from the old man and obeyed, but nearly retched at the taste as Rahm snatched the glass back before Jordan could drop it.
The foul concoction tasted like warm seaweed wrapping a used beer can that had been forgotten in a shed over the summer. Rahm motioned exaggeratingly with his hands and mouth to swish it, and Jordan complied all while glaring back at the old man.
After a few moments of jumping up and down in panic—and disgust—Jordan reached for the vial to spit it back into, but stared in horror as Rahm casually tossed it out the window. Jordan looked at him with confused betrayal.
But Rahm just laughed and turned Jordan around, pointing him towards the nearby crowd. With two hands he pressed on Jordan's face lightly. The caustic liquid in his mouth shot out, splashing dozens of Spirits in the crowd as Jordan became an impromptu squirt gun.
“By Heaven’s light! It's tainted Essence! Help! Help! Heaaalllllllppp...”
“I’m melting! Oh Creator why have you ughgudgh—”
“Ahhhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhh!”
On the bright side… Jordan's mouth had never felt cleaner.
But the Gods nearby panicked, as each Spirit hit by the mixture fell to the ground flopping, twisting in agony as their forms melted away into puddles that pooled along Jordan’s heeled sandals from even a single drop of exposure. Dozens more jumped out of the train, their screams echoing in the distance alongside wet, sickening thuds as they impacted the scenery below.
Those that cleared the golden river, that was.
The bright splashes of light revealed to Jordan that it was, in fact, molten gold. The droplets that reached the train sizzled in the open air before beginning to cool and solidify, but ‘killed’ even more Spirits in the process. A few drops splattered onto Jordan, but he couldn’t be bothered with trivial concerns such as ‘burning metal sizzling on his limbs’ at the moment.
Pandemonium had been unleashed on the train, and all Jordan could do was stare at the unfolding chaos. The casualty reports for this particular accident were already numbering in the hundreds. He slowly turned his head in horror to see Rahm smiling, beaming even more than Catella ever could.
“What the hell is wrong with you old ma—!”
The train wobbled precariously as the sound of hundreds of thuds, accented by bells and a sudden silencing of bird song, rocked the train. Jordan watched through wide eyes as a rain of bodies began to endlessly stream by the windows of the train. The smell of the various liquids sloshing in the cabin had caused all the Bird-Gods up top to faint, fall off, and perish on route.
Jordan watched the apocalypse raining outside, and shivered quietly. This was day four. Day four and he had no idea how things had gotten so completely, and utterly out of hand. He decided to remain silent for the time being as he wrung sweat covered hands on his dress nervously. His hands squished oddly as he did so, and for the first time since he’d had his confrontation with Xagreash, he looked at himself.
Oh… t-that was why they were all staring at me.
It appeared his dress was not hydrophobic, like the one Catella had been wearing earlier that morning. The perspiration his new body—unfamiliar with the act, he assumed—seemed hellbent on creating while in the City, combined with the multiple confrontations along their commute, had left several parts of it discolored. He was also stained notably in the lowest regions by his ‘incident’ on entry. It was accented now by golden flecks sizzling against…
Against the occasional chunks of gore that still clung to him, painting him like a polka-dotted flamingo. He’d been a walking advertisement of Rahm’s psychotic tendencies the entire time.
Jordan’s face transformed into similar color to his garment, and remained that way for the rest of the train ride.
----------------------------------------
As they walked off the train it shook ominously, cracks appearing in the section that had been melted. As the doors opened, panicked Spirits who had crowded into the furthest sections, fled out screaming, reminding Jordan of a game. Only not HMIA this time.
It’s like a scene straight out of GTA, he observed. The Spirits fled in hysteria, screaming unceasingly, some jumping off the platforms to their temporary death, with several more squished and trampled on their way out. Their panic spread like a plague to all the new Spirits waiting for their ride, growing out of control to an absolutely absurd degree. It was like they all wanted to die!
In response, a horde of Spirits tried to jump back into the train when they noticed that Rahm and Jordan were nonchalantly walking away, causing the damaged section to finally give in. With the sound of clapping thunder, the train splintered, falling into pieces as it submerged into the golden liquid below.
And just like that, a work of Art—and of love—was lost. Jordan didn’t know if it would be restored like the Spirits were, but he hoped it could be. It was one of the few things he’d seen in this city that felt True. The mutilated cries of its passengers drew what remained of his empathy back to the tragedy unfolding.
All hands, paws, fins, hooves, and wings went down with the ‘ship.’ Hundreds of souls snuffed out in an instant, as the entire platform turned into a terrorist scene straight out of a movie. The only thing missing were the obligatory Hollywood explosions.
Numb in spirit, Jordan held the old man’s hand tighter as they slowly made their escape, Rahm whistling a jaunty tune while Jordan stared ahead blankly.
He’s mad. A goddamn psychopath! I’m going to die here. Jordan vowed to never spend a day with ‘his’ grandfather again. He didn’t think his heart could take it, demon apotheosis or not.
“Oh, here put these on.” Rahm handed Jordan a pair of… sunglasses?
Jordan looked between the steel rimmed, dark quartz glasses and Rahm. He strongly considered questioning the old man, but paused at the wide grin on his ancient face. Recalling Xegreash's reactions from earlier he decided that of all the spirits he’d seen, she had shown him what true wisdom was.
He put on the sunglasses and didn’t say a damn word.
They walked in silence for several minutes along a white stone sidewalk. The neighborhood they were in was clearly residential, rather than the business-like district before, but was still fairly crowded. Especially the houses. The homes lining the street were so impossibly jam packed that, at first, Jordan couldn’t make heads nor tails of them.
Each home had a pathway leading to it, wide enough for two or three people to walk comfortably along, but there were mere inches between them! It would have given the impression of the sidewalk continuing on forever to his left if it werent for the strips of emerald grass denoting their shapes.
But staring at the houses Jordan realized that as they traveled they seemed to shift in perspective, growing larger the closer they approached, and smaller as they left. Looking down the path next to him now, the house on the end stretched onward, larger than even the Freyhell Estates, as it reached into the sky. An elaborate palace of a home filled with splendor and wonder, crowned by a garish statue of some Lion-God.
And then it turned into a dollhouse after the next few yards onward—crowned by an adorable kitten.
This phenomena repeated endlessly as they continued walking. The growing, shrinking motion of the houses started to make Jordan feel ill. However, he found it better to focus on them rather than the road nearby.
What should have been pavement was instead a sea of stars, no longer simply ‘infused’ with starlight like before. It was black as the abyss, but had glittering jewels of light shining through. Just having it in his peripheral was enough to give Jordan a sense of overwhelming vertigo.
Eventually, he couldn't take the all consuming silence anymore and spoke. “Seriously—how friggin big is this place?”
“Hmm?” Rahm looked back down to Jordan. “Didn’t I answer that earlier?”
Jordan narrowed his eyes at the forgetful old coot. “No! You just said it’s big. Like, how big are we actually talking?”
Jordan was most certainly not having any issues at all avoiding asking if they were there yet. And no force, in this or any universe, could possibly compel him to speak thus. And that decision had nothing to do with the embarrassment over his state of dress, or his growing panic at not being in control of his situation.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Technically?” Rahm hesitated. “The Realms within the Prime Expanse are all the same size, but since the Celestial City fills the Solarius Realm to ensure proper Essence governance, it can stretch to the furthest reaches of every star in the sky. Realistically though? It’s only as big as it needs to be, and Spirits fight tooth and nail for every meter added. Makes City expansions a real source of contention up here.”
“What," Jordan shot back, "are they afraid it will add to their commute?”
“Hah! Not quite. When there’s an expansion, Spirits form naturally anywhere the Material Realm is Awakened. Those areas draw Essence from the Solarius Realm but it’s the Celestial City that directs and manages the flow. If that power doesn’t go through the, ehem, ‘proper’ channels up here—as in not lining the higher up’s pockets—upper management gets upset. And when they’re upset, the City feels it.”
“Well that just sounds stupid. Why should they care if other people have shit they don’t?” Jordan was no activist, but this seemed petty. Even for this place.
“All Spirits have a limit on the number of holdings they can govern, both to prevent their own bloating as well as to stave off spiritual corruption. Remember—I did tell you they have their own issues to deal with you know. So the more locations added, the more higher positions come with it, and the powerful gain additional rivals as the Parliament of Heaven’s Mandate grows. Though, ah, most just call them 'the Council.'”
“So what, this 'Council' just doesn't want competition then?”
“Eh, there’s a bit more to it than that, but that’s close enough for Government work.” The old man chuckled at his own joke.
“Ha. Ha. Anyway, why don’t they just leave those spots alone then? If bringing it all into the fold, or whatever, causes all these problems for them do they need to actually manage the flow and all that?”
“Why govern it? Well, the Solarius Realm empowers everything in its domain no matter what, and if the City doesn’t direct that Essence then it can lead to issues. The reality warping and incursion creating kind. Even if it's in the far flung reaches of space, that crap can bite you in the ass all the same."
"Space dungeons? Seriously?"
Rahm chucked. "Yeah, but don't worry about it. Just know that the City keeps a limit on how much territory can go ungoverned and for how long, and fights end up breaking out over the more useful locations while it sits there. There’s entire wars centered around the obfuscation and auctioning of domains for Spirits! It pays to have good contacts in that case, hehe!”
Jordan snorted, before a dreadful thought filled his mind. "Wait—this isn’t just another real estate lesson with you, is it?”
Rahm hummed brightly as he pointedly did not answer Jordan’s question.
“Oh my God! Figures with you.” Jordan scowled, and then muttered, “I’m surprised they expand at all, considering this crap.”
“Well, there are some who force expansions. And no, before you jump to it—I’m not one of them.”
Jordan put down his pre-emptively raised finger. “Hmph. Fine, then for those that do, is that just to fight the man? Or is it just to be… er, like you?” Jordan was trying to think of a nice way to phrase ‘sadistic psychopath.’
“It depends,” Rahm shrugged twice over, “some can be vindictive about it, but there are some that view it as a form of activism. Take the Stellar Cartographer for example.”
“Right, that guy. Everyone knows him—am I right? Hah… no seriously who is he and why does he matter?” Jordan prompted, only a tiny bit full of snark. Wet dresses would do that to any man, he felt.
“She’s an old Immortal that's far older than I am, girl, so be respectful if you ever meet her—though she does play a mean game of poker, he he! Er, anyway she’s back from before the First Incursion, so few could hope to match her. After the state of the Celestial City was sorted at the end of the Second Age, she took it upon herself to take to the stars.” Rahm gestured down to the path nearby and Jordan shuddered at the stary abyss. “She’s dedicated herself towards naming and charting every one of those bastards down there.”
“Great, so the name’s accurate at least. But if this Council fights expansions, does that actually help anyone?”
“Eh, hard to say. She claims it creates ‘equal opportunities’ by ‘expanding the scope of governance’ and ‘distributing power.’ As such, she’s responsible for the largest amount of expansions in the City. Generally, however, most Spirits hate her, because they view it as her trying to challenge the balance of power to make a more egalitarian society.”
“Oh how ‘terrible’ for them,” Jordan mocked. “Dragged kicking and screaming into not being awful to each other. Sounds like a lost cause. Why does she bother making this place better again?”
“Aha, yeah. ‘Better.’ About that…”
“Oh come on! How isn’t that helpful?”
This place is the Goddamned worst! Jordan thought.
“Like I said—each new territory creates Spirits naturally, so expansions fail to make much of a difference in the unemployment rates. The creation of more management positions that fight and hold up governance systems City-wide doesn’t help much either.”
“And they really can’t stop Spirits from forming or whatever?” This political crap was really starting to wear on Jordan’s psyche. He considered asking for a potion for his growing migraine, but decided he didn’t want to risk starting a city fire, or God-knew what else Rahm's potion would do.
“Nope,” Rahm replied. “Spirits will always form when the Material Realm is Awakened—that is to say, shaped with Essence and given structure. The Spirits then need to get added into the job sharing system, which creates problems.”
“How does something like job sharing cause a problem? Isn't that a decent solution to overpopulation and unemployment?”
“For Mortals? Eh, maybe? It’s a different story for Spirits though. A Spirit working an hour a day in a Bureau has as much Essence flowing through them as a Spirit working the same job for twenty hours. Essence flows from the position—no one here is rewarded for more than minimum effort, but none of them have a better system to distribute the power.”
“What the flying fuck? How is that fair?”
“Heh, flying fuck eh? I like that one, but don’t let Mercia hear that. Now where was I? Oh, right—it’s not about fair up here, Aury. The Gods share positions where they can in order to split the workload, but power can only be divided so far. In the end, it all comes from being a part of something greater. So, they fight a lot over who works what, when, and to what ends. While the Stellar Cartographer’s work creates more positions, it usually ends up with one God working an hour a month who is given the coveted management role, while others are bitterly forced to fill the hours after that since no System will remain functional if unattended.”
“Why did they make it like this? Why promote lazy Gods and crappy politics?” Jordan was complaining about the game, really, but surprisingly Rahm had an answer.
“When the Seven Deva came to this world looking to uplift it out of darkness, they did make it perfect. Between the Maou’s rebellion, the Civil War that followed, the Cataclysms, the Maou's return, the other Cataclysms, and then the Incursions that followed, this place went to hell. The Gods that currently run the City weren’t meant to be here—they replaced the bureaucrats who first did, back when the world was bigger. Before it had to be patched up to make up for what was lost.”
“What? The world was bigger?”
Rahm nodded solemnly. “Nearly twice as much, in fact. A lot of land got lost from the Shattering or swallowed up by Dungeons later on. Most of Ænerith's remnants became the Moons in the sky, but Spirits don’t perish naturally—the Material Realm is smaller in scope now, but the number of Spirits has only increased since the beginning.”
Well that sounds like more fantasy bullshit, Jordan thought. He decided to drop it, however.
This place was… just a game after all. Of course it had lore about how it formed, and all that. He believed it was wasteful, or perhaps insulting, to have a world that was so purposefully dysfunctional, but would players want a world that was a perfect paradise with nothing worth fighting against to change? He wouldn’t.
Though suddenly having to live in a game world like that was seriously challenging that belief.
Jordan’s musings were interrupted when Rahm spoke up again. “Though the ones who hate the Stellar Cartographer most would be the very stars she Awakens. Kind of ironic really.”
“...of fucking course they do. And what's their dumb reason?”
Rahm chuckled darkly. “Every Stellar-Spirit she names and Awakens is ‘granted’ citizenship with the Celestial City. Then the various councils and committees go through to ‘redistribute’ their holdings so they can be, ehem, properly taxed.”
“You’re… fucking with me. Taxes? Again it comes down to taxes?”
“Eh, if you call land appropriation and Spirit enslavement taxes, then… sure! Full marks!” Rahm laughed as he flashed his customary quadruple thumbs up.
“What the fu—you know what? No—never mind! I don’t wanna know anymore! Screw this damn place. I don’t even know how the hell anything gets done…”
“By accident, mostly.” He answered dryly.
“That wasn’t what I meant! That was rheto—Ergh, whatever! Just stop! Please!” Jordan grumbled as he stomped ahead of Rahm, trying to avoid the gaze of the abyss that quietly judged him from the side. “Bureaucracy is such bullshit.”
Rahm nodded sagely in agreement as they continued on. Satisfied, it seemed, to have imparted true wisdom on his granddaughter.
----------------------------------------
A part of Jordan had wondered if the sunglasses had been a joke.
Something that should’ve been put on simply to usher in the Hollywood explosions he’d thought were lacking from the destruction Rahm’s afternoon commute had caused. Just given to Jordan a minute too late because the old man lacked dramatic timing, or had forgotten them until after the fact. It seemed appropriate for the old man, after all.
However, it turned out—they were needed. Very, very much, in fact.
The sidewalk they followed turned down towards a section of the neighborhood that looked like a picture perfect cul-de-sac straight out of suburbia. Asides from, of course, the sheer scale of it all—the curve of the sidewalk stretched for miles into the distance, and a trolley sat riding along the sea of stars connecting along the pathway to allow for quick access.
The houses continued their ultra-condensed design, and the various animal spirits milling about wore futuristic attire straight out of a science fiction setting. All had dark visors, or sunglasses themselves, as they animatedly waved or spoke through sign language to those nearby.
And that was due to the giant star hanging in the middle of the picture perfect cul-de-sac.
It came out of nowhere too. God damn perspective bullshit, Jordan lamented.
The giant ball of light didn’t appear to be the size of an actual star, but with the way space warped in this place, Jordan wasn’t willing to rule it out. It was still massive; beyond anything Jordan could’ve ever conceived fitting in the sky—it filled the horizon above him like Mt. Everest floating in his face.
The light it gave off was an abrasive white, with blue tints, and the air bathing Jordan felt oddly… pressured? He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, until he realized, with just a tiny amount of fear, that he was currently on fire.
And not a small amount of fire, either.
He was blazing like a damn Bunsen burner, his pink dress blackening in areas, and it only seemed to survive because of the faint film of energy Rahm had put on him earlier. The energy seemed to be fading, which frightened Jordan, but the drying effect of being consumed by bonfire did help with certain dampness issues.
Jordan stared at his burning hands, and thought about screaming, but it was so hot he… couldn’t actually feel the heat—his mind literally failed to gauge it. Staring blankly at the Brat’s Grandfather he tried to speak, only to find his words drowned out by the unending, incessant sense of pressure emanating from the star above, like it was screaming so damn loudly he couldn’t hear it anymore than he could feel how much on fire he was!
Then, the star began to shine on them. Literally. Like some hellish flood light, a beam of its energy blasted over them, filling every conceivable crevice of Jordan with light. He was pretty sure even his damn kidneys were illuminated down to the last molecule.
After a moment, the light faded as the star lazily rotated in the sky. The damn thing was spinning at an angle, so its bottom swept to cover every portion of the cul-du-sac as the shaft of light blasted out its southern pole, shining its beam on person to person, house to house. Jordan wasn’t sure if that were even possible, as it was clearly spinning as it rotated around. Or wait… is this how seasons happen? Jordan was struggling to remember middle school science when just trying to take in the massive sight in his brain was enough to drive him ins—
Jordan pointed an accusatory finger at the ball of hate filling his world in front of him, and, through the fire that blanketed him, opened his mouth in an inaudible series of screams. He wasn’t sure why.
“What’s that Aury?” Rahm, who had no problem communicating here, apparently, asked. “Oh that? That’s just the Cosmic Oasis. It’s actually what’s known as a ‘Pulsar.’ Can you say Pulsar, Aury? Er, don’t glare at me like that sweety, you look too much like your mother that way.” Rahm shuddered.
“Anyway, the HoA had it installed in the expansion a few centuries back, and even slowed it down to ‘enjoy’ the light show, so to speak. Damn near emptied the whole block in the process though. Apparently, people didn’t take kindly to the light pollution, you see. They tried to repeal their decision, but one of the, ehem, ‘newest’ HoA members lobbied quite adamantly to keep it after some hefty investments in the general area. They said it keeps the riff-raff out.” Rahm shook his head ‘sadly’ while smiling like an idiot.
Jordan burned alive nonplussed as he openly scoffed and shook a fist at the old man before making a deliberate sweeping gesture around the area.
“What? I’m not riff-raff Aury! That’s hurtful. Besides, you can't blame me for it still being here. After my initial investment I tried to support getting rid of it, but the rest of the HoA was jealous of how much I’d make so they’ve been blocking me now. Petty damn parasites.”
Jordan tugged at Rahm’s arm and pointed wildly to his smoldering pink dress.
“Eh, don’t worry about it. If it burns off, I’m sure I’ve got spares somewhere, or we can ask the neighbors. Or even Kioko! I wouldn't worry though, it's unlikely too in any case. If anything the Freyhells own burned, I’m sure we would get a refund, hehe!”
Jordan pounded Rahm’s chuckling side. When the man looked at him again, Jordan gestured frantically to himself. Specifically to the flames crawling in his ears, tickling him.
“No, no sweety, you won’t go deaf. Er, Probably. There are protective wards on the neutron star that keep the noise down to barely perceptible levels, you know? Well, mostly I guess.” He put a set of hands on his hips defiantly while the others crossed defensively.
Jordan pointed adamantly at his chest, taking exaggerated breaths. Small geysers of energy came out.
“What? Breathing a little fire never hurt no Freyhell.”
Jordan stomped his feet, hopping up and down madly. His mouth hung open as his lungs, filled with plasma, worked overtime to produce a series of screams, but to no avail.
“No, no, the gravity won’t hurt you either. Well, as long as you’re on this side of the sidewalk or on the trolley, I suppose.” Rahm looked down and tapped at the smooth, flawless stone at their feet, cracking it. He kicked a chip towards the center of the street where it was instantly struck by an invisible force, hanging in the air as it was slowly crushed before shooting away into the massive, several mile long sphere hanging in the middle of suburbia. Absolute death waited mere yards in front of their faces.
Jordan turned pale and backed away, mouth moving as though babbling. The light spun back around and bathed him again. Every cell in Jordan’s body was consumed by fire, transforming him into a burning she-devil of conflagration. Tiny blue jets of fire burst from his mouth in quizzical shock.
“Not physically possible? That’s nonsense. We got it cleared, and the star has all the permits required to act this way.”
Jordan stared molten cores at the psychopath before pinching an arm with sarcastic worry. It was glowing like a smelter’s forge!
“Hmm? I’m surprised you know that word Aury, but no, it won’t give you cancer. Where did you even hear about radiation anyway?”
Jordan brightened, a considerable feat given the ambient luminosity levels, and bounced up and down while his mouth moved rapidly. Flames flickered across his form, dancing the dance of hope as his eyes sparkled like freshly forged diamonds behind the sunglasses, which had somehow prevented instant blindness despite it all.
“Sorry sweety, I don’t think that’s right. This might be your condition acting up. How about we get you a nice cuppa tea when we get to Sofu’s place, alright? Or do you want a nap, Aury? It has been a long—”
Jordan, motivated by burning alive to the core of his being, finally gave in and kicked the man in his shin, lighting him on fire in the process. To his surprise the old man hobbled, holding his leg dearly as he stumbled away. Sadly, the fire went out near-instantly.
“How the blazes!? Always the same place with you, that shouldn’t even be possible…” He muttered as he limped away, moving towards their destination as…
As the small Neutron Star—a ball of ultra-condensed matter equal to the Sun and a half squeezed down to a mere ten kilometers in radius—burned hundreds of thousands of degrees, screaming out locked in perpetual frozen hell. It attempted to crush them with its fury, howling as it pelted them with radiation that could drown out the Sun, and probably cook every man, woman, and child on earth simultaneously in an instant were it that close—assuming it didn’t just smash through it like a cheap ceramic vase.
But hey, at least his dress was dry. That was a… positive. Right?
…
Jordan tried not to think about things anymore. He desperately wanted to ask how much further they had to go, but the last shreds of his stubbornness held on, refusing to give in to childish tantrums.
He could endure a bit more. Right? It was just a screaming ball of fire. One that would crush him into a grape if he walked five feet over. One that should have killed him a hundred ways over in the first nanosecond he stood there. It was no big deal!
Rahm called for the trolley, which swiveled around to their location.
It moved by solar sails, had a cute bell that chimed as it arrived, and was piloted by a walking sunflower wearing radiant overalls. It waved merrily as they boarded, and the trolley began to move, chirping happily on golden rails of light that formed in front of, and faded behind, as it moved.
The entire thing… was also on fire.
His brain could take no more, and Jordan finally gave up. Shaking in defeat, the tears of frustration evaporating instantly as they came out, he tugged at the old man’s hand. When Rahm turned to look at him, he moved his lips to ask the question he’d tried so hard to avoid.
“Oh, not far, sweetheart. We’re almost there, I promise!” He said with a mischievous wink.
Jordan glared at him; immediately sure this was another joke of the ol—
The bell rang as they arrived.
Jordan stared in complete, utter disbelief. It was the house two paths down. They had ridden the trolley little more than a dozen feet.
Rahm tipped the driver, and they disembarked, walking towards his home after having waited several minutes for the trolley to swing by to carry them for only a few seconds.
They… could have walked faster.
…
Jordan’s scream of frustration, for just a brief moment, could be heard over the pulsar.
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