Strangely, though I could no longer feel my body, I realized I wasn’t unconscious. I was surrounded by darkness in all directions, but I could feel myself drifting through space. I supposed it was a lot like being in the Void. I just hoped I wouldn’t be here for long.
Gradually, I felt my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I could see a thread that was bound to me, a thin strand of golden light that spread across the dark expanse, cutting a winding, rippling path before me.
I felt something come over me, a strange feeling as if I had forgotten something important but didn’t know what. As if I had been here before, in this dimensionless solitude. What was it, though?
I willed myself to float forward, trying to follow the golden thread. It was the only thing I had to go on, so I’d better see where it would take me. As I moved, my eyes became lost in the darkness and gradually adjusted to it. I thought I saw something beneath me, faint crisscrossing lines less dark than their surroundings. They were like the golden thread but dim.
Those paths through the dark firmament had been bright once, I thought, though I wasn’t sure how I knew that. Perhaps, though the light no longer touched them, they still held a memory of it. Once I began to see those trails, I soon realized they were everywhere, winding their way outward in every possible direction.
I could feel the trails as I looked at them, reaching out with nothing but my Will. I could feel the contour of their surfaces. Some paths were almost faded, and I could barely perceive them. Others, however, were deeper and well-worn, as if they had been traveled more frequently or more recently.
Lacking anything else to do, I decided to inspect every trail I crossed as I followed my own. Soon, I lost count. I could not tell how long I had spent wandering through that dark space because I had no way to track time or my progress.
But after some time, during which only my dull hardheadedness made me continue, I came upon a trail much broader and deeper than the others, as if it had been trodden on more than the rest. It felt different than the others—while the others had felt like trails through the wilderness, this one felt like a paved roadway, worn smooth by travel.
But it led almost perpendicular to the golden light I had been following. Was that a coincidence? What did these represent?
Suddenly I felt a great fear wash over me, a wave of terror as I looked down that alternate path. I felt as if I were being watched somehow, as if there was something out there in the night, aware of my presence, waiting to see what I might do.
I willed myself to keep moving, once again following the golden light.
After a long journey, I began to see something in the distance. A speck on the horizon, gradually coming into view. Soon, I realized what it was.
The museum. My museum, the one I had seen in my dream. The one where I’d seen Maria, or at least the memory of her.
As I drew closer, I saw the front doors of the museum. Though I didn’t seem to have a body in this place, the doors swung open as I approached, and I passed inside them.
It did not take long until I found myself in the center atrium, floating at the center of the four-pointed crown. The platform at the center of the atrium was still bare, as if it was missing something, but the exhibit halls themselves had changed since my last visit.
The one on the left—Destruction—was brightly lit and filled with all manner of displays. The one next to it—Dread—was still mostly empty, but contained one exhibit near the front that I could see from the atrium. It was a large model of me—or at least, the form I had transformed into when I got angry and grabbed Ilmatar. The other two halls—Retribution and Shadows—were still entirely dark.
I wandered into the Hall of Destruction, marveling at the way it had transformed. No space was wasted. I floated past the large display of a meteor, the same one I had seen last time. But now it was much more detailed. It looked almost life-like, other than its small size. The rest of the hall, which had been empty, was now filled with exhibits on plagues, a great fire that had reportedly consumed Lycanta, and—
I would have gasped if I’d still possessed lungs.
There was a large exhibit on pyromancy, which included a life-size replica of Desdemona.
“Huh,” I said, surprised that I possessed a voice now. I looked down and saw my body slowly fading into existence. With each moment, I was becoming more substantial here. I felt something, a pull leading me back towards the atrium. As I reached it, I noticed that at the center, the previously bare platform now held a small replica of the Void.
A black hole hovered there, surrounded by a white halo. I felt drawn to it. As I looked down, I saw my hand reaching for its surface. When I touched it, the world dissolved into pure white light.
----------------------------------------
I awoke with a start, sitting up in bed abruptly, my arm stretched in front of me, my fingers trying to grasp for a light that no longer shone.
“Thank the Void,” Mona said. I looked towards the sound of her voice and saw her seated on a chair next to the bed. Ilmatar stood a few paces behind her, his hands folded behind his back, and he also possessed a relieved expression. A murmur of assent, many voices at once, all began to ring out.
I turned my head, scanning the room, and my stomach dropped when I saw who else had assembled—Asmodeus, Phaedra, and the three Generals, with Shatterbone at their head and Krez and Braz to either side, a step behind him. I was able to remember who was who because I’d once thought that it would have been much easier to remember if Braz was the blue one. But he wasn’t.
Had they thought I was going to die, or that I was seriously injured? I looked down at my wrist, and saw that it was still bandaged, but the gauze had been replaced by a fresh one. I saw Mona smile in the corner of my eye, just a tiny bit, but she reassured me a little.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Judging by everyone who had assembled, there had been some concern over my continued ability to lead them. That was the only explanation I could think of for why the Generals had shown up. I had been trying to avoid Shatterbone as much as I could, and now I had run into him in the worst possible situation, as I was lying in bed recovering from a self-inflicted wound.
I must have been an idiot.
“Generals,” I said, my eyes scanning past each of them in turn.
Shatterbone flashed me a toothy grin. Thankfully, I realized he had not brought his axe into my chambers. It was the first time I had seen him without it. “Glad to see you awake, Dark Lord.”
Krez and Braz placed their fists together and gave the demon salute in unison.
“Indeed, Generals. My vigor has already returned to me.”
“It is indeed a pleasure to see you recovering so soon,” Phaedra said, from her place sitting at the foot of the bed. “Though it is to be expected, considering your great and ominous power.”
I knew little about Phaedra, other than Mona’s distaste for her, and the justified fear that I felt towards Dreadthorn’s resident alchemical weapons expert. She had always seemed prone to flattery with me, which made her feel a bit disingenuous. I felt that so far there was little to be praised in my performance, or in hers.
“Ah, yes,” Shatterbone said. “Of course it was expected, but it is still a relief to see you awake, Dark Lord. At your convenience, the other generals and I have some things to discuss with you regarding our marching orders. We were thinking the third week of Kelnar would be the ideal time to begin the campaign.”
Ah, yes, how lovely. The campaign.
I tried to remember in everything I’d read if there had been any mention of a calendar. But there was no sense hesitating just because I didn’t know. Indecision, right now, would only make things worse.
“Excellent, I was thinking similarly,” I said. “Shall we assemble the military council later this afternoon, to confirm?”
Though General Ignak Shatterbone’s presence was intimidating, it was time I learned how to handle him. I did not want to seem like I was avoiding him or the other military leaders. I had waited long enough to begin engaging with him.
Avoidance and fear was the type of thing that invited a coup. I wondered what the difference really was between a dictator and a so-called god in this place? I turned to Ilmatar. “Majordomo, find a suitable time later this afternoon and let the Generals know when to expect me.”
“Your expediency honors us,” Shatterbone said with a pleased nod. He turned to Ilmatar and grunted in affirmation, then returned to me and saluted. “Please relax until then, Dark Lord. It is all well in hand.” He turned and marched to the door, followed by Krez and Braz dutifully following behind him.
In a way, they reminded me of Princess Nymphyra and her two handmaidens, but I kept that thought to myself.
Asmodeus hadn’t said anything yet, but he now cleared his throat. “Great One, fantastic to see you in such fine consciousness, so I guess I’ll also—”
“I’d like you to stay for a moment, actually. We have something to discuss.”
“Oh,” Asmodeus said, his eye looking at me cautiously. “Of course, Dark Lord.” He seemed to emphasize the last word strangely, or perhaps it was only my imagination, the fact he knew I wasn’t who I was supposed to be, yet didn’t much care.
I realized I’d forgotten to tell Mona that he’d figured out my secret, and moreover, that he’d loaned me that book on chronomancy. It hadn’t seemed all that relevant until now.
“Ilmatar,” I said, “Bleeding has made me hungry. Bring me something from the kitchen.”
He nodded and set off at once.
Which just left Phaedra to get rid of.
As my eyes passed to her, it seemed like she stood a little straighter, throwing back her shoulders.
“I am pleased you came to check on me, Phaedra. Now that my body has recovered, I should let you return to your work.”
She smiled and tilted her head forward in a small bow. “I shall work tirelessly for you as always, Dark Lord.” Her eyes twinkled like emeralds as she looked at me. Something in her demeanor made me wary of her. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Master—would you do me the honor of touring my lab? I have some other experiments I wish to demonstrate for you, things that may benefit our efforts, Great One, in ways large and small.”
It sounded horrifying but I forced myself to smile, perhaps too widely, revealing my fangs. For a moment I worried it might come across as intimidating, but Phaedra only beamed back at me, revealing her own gleaming teeth, looking rather pleased by my reaction.
“I look forward to seeing your creations,” I said. “Perhaps tomorrow?” At least that would give me some time to prepare myself before I witnessed more small lizards killed in weapons tests. But no one could accuse me of trying to blow her off, either.
Phaedra nodded enthusiastically, a wide smile on her face that I thought must have been genuine. “You honor me, Master. Well, I shall take my leave.” She bowed deeply from her waist. Without sparing a glance at either Mona or Asmo, she turned on her heel and marched out the door.
Which left just Mona, Asmodeus, and myself.
“Mona,” I said, “don’t panic, but Asmodeus loaned me that book.”
She raised an eyebrow at me, looking confused for a moment, before she turned her attention to Asmodeus, who was now floating at the foot of my bed looking very sheepish, and very much like he didn’t wish to be here.
“It’s okay,” I explained hastily, as I watched Mona’s eyes darken in comprehension. “Asmodeus has no interest in rocking the boat. Right?”
He nodded immediately, his eye tipping forward. “I don’t even really want to be here right now, actually. I only arrived because Ilmatar summoned me.”
“I see,” Mona said, calming somewhat, though her voice was so cold I knew she must have still been on edge. “So you’ve realized our Master has lost his memory. If anyone discovers—”
“Well, that’s one possible explanation,” Asmodeus said.
Mona shook her head. “It is the only explanation. The Dark Lord relearned basic pyromancy in a matter of days. He is clearly no beginner.”
“Hmm,” Asmodeus said, nodding again. “I see your point. You’re implying that he couldn’t have carved his Will in so short a time.”
Mona nodding enthusiastically in agreement. “Exactly.”
I felt like a third wheel, totally lost in this conversation. “Carved my Will?”
“Yes,” Mona said, turning to me. “That’s one reason magic is hard—for most people. When you first cast a spell, even if you do everything right, it usually starts pretty small. The first time you conjure a flame orb, you usually summon a tiny one. I mean, it’ll still be hot enough to burn your sheets, but—” I couldn’t help but think she was speaking from experience. “—it’s nothing compared to what you’ll be able to do after years of casting that same spell. Constant, rigorous practice. The more you cast, the more you exercise your Will, the more you begin to carve pathways through your Will that allow you to channel your energy towards specific ends. But you, Master… Your very first spell was already fully formed. So clearly, the pathway in you already existed, it only needed to be rediscovered.”
“Ah,” I said. “If you say so.” But if that was true, what did that mean about my memories? Maria was a nurse, and we had lived together in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I remembered her, and now both our souls had found their way here, so how could I be the so-called God of Monsters?
There was something I was still missing. An important piece of the puzzle.
“Anyway,” I said, pushing that from my mind for now. There was something more pressing. I pulled down the sheets and climbed out of bed. Mona stood for a moment, as if she intended to help me, but I was already walking towards where I’d left the book in the chair upside down.
I carried it back to Asmodeus and handed it to him, waiting until I could feel it float from my hands and hover towards his side.
“Too hard?” Asmodeus asked. “I hope you didn’t give up already—”
“No,” I said. “But there’s a couple dog-eared pages there I was hoping you could help me with.”
“You did what?” Asmodeus blinked his mucus-covered eye slowly, as if he were in shock. “Dog-eared?” he screamed. “This tome is a thousand years old!”
And for a moment, I wondered if Asmodeus might turn me in after all, or skip the middleman and kill me himself. For I had done a most foolish thing—I had angered a librarian.