CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR
Hopeful Thinking, Part 1
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When Sam opened his eyes the first thing he noticed was that the gray shades had washed away from his surroundings and color had come back to the world. However, that also meant that Sam was falling from the sky again, and he wasn’t alone. Pandora the 8th lay limp in his arms which he guessed was a side effect of him entering her mind without consent. She was unconscious, which meant his sister was no help to him in their shared predicament. Not that Pandora the 8th would have been helpful if she was awake. She was still a villain after all.
“Holy Zeus!” Sam screamed.
They were falling, falling—tumbling down toward the red-tinged grove below while Medea’s solar dragon chased after them from above.
Sam pressed his sister’s body to his just as he barrel-rolled away from the dragon’s outstretched claws. It missed them by a few feet, but the wind of the ancient horror’s passage caused Sam and his unconscious sister to plummet faster toward the earth.
ALERT! At your current velocity, the damage to your body when you hit the ground will place you in a critical state. It is recommended that the hero avoid crashing.
“I-I know!” Sam yelled. “I need a tree!”
Unfortunately, the top of the tree line was still a little ways below him, and Sam wasn’t sure launching his grappling hook from this higher angle would even help to slow their descent. What he needed was a miracle, which, funnily enough, was something Sam now had in the palm of his hands. He shut his eyes and began to recall Hope’s explanation about using her essence.
***
“When you express a strong yearning for something that isn’t easily attainable or when you seek to achieve the impossible—to wish for a change in fate—that’s when my power springs forth,” she explained.
“Um, is it like Farsight’s power to adjust probabilities?” Sam wondered.
Hope shook her head. “Your teammate’s gift doesn’t alter fate. Nor is her power to witness and reshape possibilities permanent.”
Hope raised her arms and mimed carrying a bottle between her hands.
“To bottle time, put a stopper in death, or even brew victory over an enemy that can’t be beaten”—she mimed sipping on a cup with her hand—“a swig of Hope’s Essence alters the very foundations of reality in accordance to one’s hopes…”
“S-seriously?” Sam’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that freaking overpowered?!”
“Well, sure, if you could take in more of my essence, but just 10% might not even be enough to get you one miracle,” Hope admitted. She gave Sam a contemplative look before adding, “You probably have a 10% chance to change an outcome of a specific moment within your immediate reach. Maybe less.”
“Ten percent,” Sam repeated, grinning afterward. “That’s more chances than most of the risks I’ve taken lately…”
***
Mere seconds had passed in Sam’s mind, but the ground was beginning to look dangerously close by the time he opened his eyes again.
“Where did she”—with one arm tightening on Pandora the 8th’s back, Sam’s other hand reached into one of the pouches of his utility belt—“found it!”
The tear-shaped crystal vial he pulled out of his belt’s pouch carried inside of it a milky-white substance that glowed with its own luminescent light. Sam spent another second staring at it, marveling at how an item he’d earned in a dream actually followed him into reality.
“Gods, please let this work,” He whispered. Then Sam placed the vial’s tip to his lips and upended its contents into his mouth. “Gah!”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Although it tasted like an ice-cold chocolate shake at first, the moment the substance passed into his throat, the thrill of Sam’s favorite childhood drink quickly morphed into something akin to hot lava.
ALERT! You have imbibed [Hope’s Essence (Lesser)] into yourself, but your body is not attuned to this celestial substance.
“Deal…with…it,” Sam gasped through gritted teeth.
The system is working to ensure your body does not reject [Hope’s Essence (Lesser)]. Please endure the pain for now.
“Can’t…wait,” Sam grunted.
His lungs felt like they were on fire, but Sam endured it as Triple-A asked. Strangely enough, although pain racked his chest area, his mind was clear—increasingly active even. It was filling up with hopeful thoughts that helped to empower the wish on Sam’s lips.
He understood Hope’s words well enough that Sam knew he couldn’t expect wings to suddenly sprout from his back. His hope—his miracle—needed to be of lesser value. It had to be a fate that could be changed for a mere ten percent of Hope’s Essence.
Then, in the near distance, Sam heard the rumble of machinery drumming to life—and he couldn’t help but smile. Seconds later—with Pandora the 8th wrapped protectively in his arms—Sam’s back smacked against the elastic surface of the life net that had popped out of the Argo VII just as it pulled to a stop directly beneath them.
“You’ve got… excellent timing, Ash,” Sam chuckled but then regretted it instantly. “Yow…”
ALERT! Your health has dropped back to fifty percent. Your right shoulder is dislocated. There is also some bruising on your lower back.
“But… I’m alive…” Sam’s gaze drifted to the top of his sister’s head. “We’re both… okay…?”
…Yes, you are both alive. Good job, hero.
“T-thanks,” Sam managed a smile.
Please refrain from moving while Regeneration (Δ)] works to heal you.
“Sure,” Sam grunted. “Not going… anywhere.”
While pain and relief flooded his system, Sam began to drift in and out of consciousness with his thoughts sending him back to that moment he had held Hope’s hand and the promise he’d made to her.
“I need you to give humanity an ideal to strive for, Sam… Be someone who can bring them hope,” Hope had declared.
“I will… I’ll become the symbol of hope the world needs,” Sam had promised.
Although now that he was remembering that moment, Sam couldn’t help but feel just a little embarrassed at how cheesy he’d sounded.
“Ugh… I can’t believe I… said that out loud,” he grimaced.
“Ugh,” his sister gasped.
No, Pandora the 8th wasn’t agreeing with Sam. She was just beginning to wake up from the mind-meld she’d shared with him.
“Serena”—it took effort for Sam to sit up—“are you—”
He didn’t see it coming—the tip of her jar smashing into his ribs. It didn’t hurt exactly—he was already feeling battered and bruised enough already—but the surprise attack caused Sam to pull back, allowing Pandora the 8th to scramble out of his arms.
“Why would you… do that?” Sam grimaced.
Then he saw his sister’s face.
“Oh…”
The mask of indifference Pandora the 8th had worn since their first reunion had finally broken. In its place, however, was the confused look of a wide-eyed teenage girl whose face was streaked with tears.
“Serena,” Sam said. “Do you—”
“Get away from me!” Pandora the 8th screamed.
Sam was so surprised by the emotion spilling from her voice—a voice he hadn’t heard in years—that he did shuffle backward.
“Serena, it’s me!” he insisted.
Her expression was filled with doubt. Although there might have been a hint of recognition in the way Pandora the 8th’s eyes narrowed too.
“Serena—”
“That’s not my name!” Pandora the 8th screamed.
Sam’s brow furrowed. “W-what do you mean? It’s—”
“Not my name!” Pandora the 8th repeated, shaking her head as she did.
Pandora the 8th had been like an emotionless doll, but this new version of his sister that woke up seemed overwhelmed by her emotions. Emotions that had been locked inside her for far too long exploded out of her now in heightened fits, and Sam didn’t know how to help her through it.
“Serena…”
Sam began crawling toward her, and that’s when his vision blurred.
“Holy—”
His head ached suddenly. As if there was a drum banging a heavy metal tune inside his brain.
“Oh, gods,” Sam fell face-first onto the mat. He felt as if the world around him was shaking. “She didn’t… say it would… feel like this…”