A deafening crack rings out across Reservoir Island, a severe thunderstorm looming overhead. Blood washes off the innumerable corpses that became the ground of the war-torn land, muddying the water with a deep crimson as it pools in the divots between the hills.
Atop one of these hills, a woman in a dark raincoat was climbing a radio tower. A large battery was strapped to her back, wrapped in a thin plastic coating to protect it from the weather.
With every rung of the ladder she climbs, she takes a pause, taking a deep breath to collect herself and calm her trembling hands. Dirtied cuts and dark bruises lined her hands and arms, as surviving the past day on this island has been utter hell; the war is coming to its bloody conclusion.
She grabs the last rung of the ladder, arriving at the midpoint of the radio tower. Pulling herself onto the balcony, she pushes the battery to the side and finds comfort in solid footing—though it wasn’t nice grass on a sunny day, laying against cold metal would do well enough for this particularly shitty day. Finding comfort in this causes her to give an exhausted laugh of pity for herself before it just becomes a soft sob.
The woman’s name is Nicole. She’s lived on the island all her life, off in a quaint town where she worked as a weatherwoman. This past year, she’s seen her entire life crumble. Her home was obliterated in the initial invasion, forcing her to retreat and find refuge in this radio tower. Others came with—there use to be a community around this place, comprised of her family and friends who escaped. It was a struggle, but they managed to make this life work—scavenging went a long way.
Today, those friends and family exist in the mass graves found all over the island. Nicole is the last remnant of her community.
Collecting herself, she pulls herself and the battery under a thick drape that protected her from the rain. This is where she usually hung out, making a small ‘room’ with what she had. A computer, a cot, and a box of her personal belongings were the most notable objects in this space.
Resting atop this box was a mirror. She takes a momentary glance into the glass, seeing her short, black hair ruined by the rain—her bangs going straight down. Usually, she combs them to the side, partially covering her right eye.
She blinks, looking at her dark green eyes—something just felt off about her own gaze, but she wasn’t sure what it could be.
Nicole refocuses herself and grabs a cable, inserting one end into the battery and the other into the computer. The barely-functional fans in the device begin to whir, the monitor flashing to life.
Finally going to be able to check the radio, she optimistically thought, leaning back against the box and waiting for it to boot up.
But just as she began to find comfort in her situation, the screen begins to flicker. The colors distort, like paint mixing together and becoming a multi-colored fluid. She rubs her eyes—Am I that tired…? But when she lowers her arms, Nicole finds that what she saw was very much real, and an actual liquid began to pour from the seams in the monitor.
Startled by the supernatural event, she rushes up to her feet and steps back into the rain. However, the moment a droplet of rain struck her, she felt her sensory nerves explode out in agonizing pain
She opens her mouth to yell out, but nothing comes. Her body is totally overworked, and she begins to stumble back—slipping right off the edge of the radio tower.
As she descends, she stares into the sky for the final few moments of her life. The dark sky she had seen minutes ago has parted, iridescent nacreous clouds replacing them. A seam ran down the middle of even those clouds, opening up to the blue sky—creating a pattern that looked quite like an of sorts.
And then, even the sky itself began to peel back and open to space itself. She feels a chilling reverberation spread throughout her body as the atmosphere broke apart, her senses totally numbing.
The vision of another world peers through the gap in the atmosphere, revealing a magical plane that exists outside Icosa—outside the laws of the known world.
The Reservoir Cascade has begun, and the sensible world is coming to a close. The dying Garden is now spilling into the planet of Icosa, bringing magic into a world that existed without it.
Nicole slams into the top of a canopy tent, cushioning her fall as best it can. But the best it can do isn’t enough—she breaks through the material and slams into one of the wooden tables underneath, breaking even that before finally coming into contact with the muddy ground.
Miraculously, she lives from this—but not without injury. She feels a deep abdominal pain, and a series of violent coughs is forced out of her—blood splattering the ground her head rested on. Though her senses were momentarily numbed earlier, they were back in full force now, and she felt complete and utter agonizing pain.
Nicole slowly pushes herself up, looking down and finding that one of the table legs has impaled her right through the gut.
Her hands hover over the large splinter, a maddened but rough laugh coming from what still remains of her voice. Of course—this is just the pathetic fate I was due, wasn’t it? Nothing can ever go in peace on this godforsaken fucking hell pit of an island!
Nicole looks up, hearing distant voices from beyond the walls of her radio tower. As her last act, she stands up, deciding she might as well die with the sight of anything but this bleak camp.
After shambling towards the gate, she peers her head around the corner and looks out to the field beyond. People begin to rise from the mass graves, sparks of strange energy igniting the corpses before they begin walking again.
Survivors of the war began to mutate into grotesque, otherwordly monsters that would fit right into the fictional media of the world—their souls were breaking under the pressure of the apocalypse.
Her gaze drifts to the titular Reservoir, the underground stronghold that was reminiscent of a castle. A blinding iridescent light comes from the gates, a group of soldiers sprinting out of the entrance in fear of what followed them.
A blur goes right through the crowd and in one fell sweep, a massive greatsword split the entire group in half. A woman in strange, obsidian-colored armor jumped over the bodies, sliding across the ground before throwing the sword onto her shoulder.
Before she’s able to investigate further, a peculiar wailing distracts Nicole. Feeling something at her leg, she looks down and finds a fuzzy, slug-like creature the size of a shoe bumping into her boot. The fur on its back was a complete rainbow—it was clear enough that it was not native to this world.
“... Aw–” The moment she felt sympathetic for the beast, it suddenly stretched out and bit into her lower leg, closing in and wrapping itself around the limb. The maw of the slug suctioned onto her and injected a paralyzing fluid into her bloodstream, numbing the leg.
Nicole falls onto her back as this happens, letting out a scream—she tries to pull herself up, but the table leg remaining in her abdomen meant she was stuck flat on her back, watching the apocalyptic sky flow as this parasite took over her body.
The fluid continues to pass through her body, numbing both her legs, chest and eventually arms. It began to pass into her neck, and she felt completely stuck in place. She watches her legs begin to move without her input—the monster was taking over. It was a parasite.
Why this…? Why is this the way I have to go out…?
She feels a sudden pain in the back of her neck. Like someone had pushed a dagger into her, stabbing all the way to the handguard.
An eruption of multi-colored blood suddenly comes from the creature, painting Nicole and the surrounding area. It was as if a bomb had suddenly gone off in the depths of its stomach.
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She groans, sitting up. The pain was suddenly gone from her body—looking down, she found that the wooden leg that had previously impaled her was entirely gone. Bewildered, she pulls up her shirt and looks at her stomach—there’s not even a scar!
She cautiously gets back up onto her feet, her hands hovering around her gut—it was almost too good to be true. Nicole was totally expecting something else to go awry. What if this is just some crazy hallucination by that monster and that her body has been totally taken over by now?
It’s dead, her inner voice responds to herself. But that inner voice was not born from a thought of her own.
As these thoughts spoke, she felt the voice reverb throughout her body—sourcing from her neck. She squints her eyes, Yeah? It’s dead? Sure you’re not just that thing projecting an image and voice into what’s left of my consciousness?
No—me, a khopie? That creature? You think that lowly of me? I am much more… important, better than that thing! She responds, quite pompous about the image of herself.
THINK THAT LOWLY OF YOU?! YOU’RE SAYING THIS LIKE WE’VE GOT HISTORY—WE DON’T! Nicole slaps the back of her neck, seeing if that does anything to the voice.
It doesn’t, but by doing this she realizes that there’s something in her throat. Almost feels like she’s sick, congested with an annoying sore throat. She begins forcing herself to cough, trying to get whatever it is out of her body.
What… are you doing? Pointless question—I can read your thoughts. You’re not going to get me out that way.
That verifies it—the voice is in her throat. She turns to face what remains of the medical tent, realizing her goal. She’ll remove it by force.
As she strides over towards the tent, the flaps suddenly come together and zip up. A snap is heard, and her eye catches the zipper flying through the air. It was as if the wind had suddenly gained sentience and was actively working against Nicole.
Let’s not be hasty, okay? The voice intends to obstruct her, Trust me, don’t wanna do what you’re thinking of! It’ll just be an inconvenience, for both of us!
As Nicole works up another thought, she feels a cold breeze hit the back of her neck. She can feel the creeping presence of somebody behind her, standing at the gate. She slowly begins to turn her head, a familiar greatsword coming into view.
Nicole. I don’t think we’ll be getting along, but we are codependent on each other now.
Don’t turn your head any further than it already is.
Don’t let her see your face.
Don’t allow her to memorize YOU.
Nicole freezes, keeping completely still. She keeps an eye trained on the sword, but wouldn’t dare turn an inch more than she already has.
“There is no sentient person left on this island but you,” the woman spoke with intimidation, “and I. Do you understand why that is?”
Though she couldn’t see her face, Nicole felt the dead gaze that fell upon her. The voice that gave her advice mere moments ago felt so distant at this moment, seemingly opting to shut up entirely.
“You are the ferry to the end of this river—when I kill you, that demon inside your head will end this cascade and listen to my pleas,” she readies the greatsword, “bringing–”
Suddenly, Nicole stood alone in a vast, shallow sea. For all that the human eye could see, there was nothing on the horizon. She was, effectively, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
Have I died? Nicole asks herself, looking at her surroundings, drawing immediate comparisons to what she thought the afterlife could’ve potentially looked like. Her gaze drifts to the ground, finding a great abyss below her. Like staring directly into the ocean—it was unnerving, standing on solid ground with such a seemingly infinite void beneath you.
You still live. Though, if I had given you a mere moment more in that world, you might’ve as well been dead. You stand in the Beyond, the sliver of existence that’s born from the intangible producing a tangible plane. A land that is made from the subconscious.
The conceptual gibberish was going in one ear and out the other. Best not to think about it.
Nicole became aware of one key fact; they were now alone.
She moves quickly, reaching into her pockets and digging around before taking out a pocket knife. Flipping it open, she jabs it into the base of her neck, attempting to carve a hole open that’s big enough to reach her hand into.
ARE YOU INSANE? The voice screams in her head—but she can’t do anything against this.
YOU’RE AN INVASIVE LITTLE PEST! After opening a hole in her neck, she digs in with her free hand. It hurts like hell, but if this thing has a physical body, she’s gonna take her out by force.
Digging inside her neck, Nicole eventually feels something mushy—gripping it, she tears it from her body, forcing it from the gash in her neck. The long, slimy being eventually slips out and Nicole holds her up in the air as if she had just caught a big fish.
Covered in a thick layer of blood, the azure-colored creature writhes while she’s in the air, trying to find comfort against the cold ocean breeze that brushed against her. There wasn’t much definition to her body—she was practically made of a translucent slime covered in a thin membrane, nerves running just beneath that layer. She took no familiar shape, just a collection of malleable slime arranged like a collection of some particular laundry detergent pods, the membrane having a similarly bumpy but soft texture to it.
THIS ISN’T NECESSARY– Nicole slams her down into the water like a child with a toy, lifting her boot and stomping on the far end. She hears the creature scream using her own voice and makes sure to rub it in by turning the heel of her boot back and forth, squishing and stressing the mass. With her other hand, she pulls back and stretches the parasite’s body out, prompting even louder screams in her head.
I CAN’T DIE! I AM CONNECTED TO YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS; THE ONLY WAY I DIE IS IF YOU DIE! She attempts to reason with Nicole, and the woman lifts her boot.
“Really?” She sighs, poking the body with the knife—watching her body entirely adapt to the weapon. This was unfortunate—she was hoping that this connection they shared would be temporary. “What’s stopping me from just leaving you here?”
A whole lot of things! First off, you have a wound in your neck that you WILL bleed out from. I can prevent that, and we can use it to our advantage—hiding it will be important, though. Second, you’ve got a target on your back—you ditch me, that lady we crossed earlier WILL be a problem! Doesn’t matter if we’re far apart, if you die, I die, and her goal is accomplished!
“And? What if I want to die?”
You don’t particularly want to die. I can read your thoughts.
Damn, this thing’s good… Nicole winds up accidentally complimenting her.
“Fine.” She sighs once more, raising the creature up. As that neck wound will surely be a problem, she might as well get on that immediately. “Alright—get, uh… back in my neck. However you intend to do that.”
Nicole frowns at the idea before lightly placing her onto her shoulder—feeling the creature move towards and slip into the gash in her neck. Part of her desperately wants to puke at the sensation, feeling the parasite slide around and get comfortable.
“To be clear, I am not content with you coexisting with me in my own body—at the very least, I intend to purge you from by body for good at some point. Ideally, you’ll just die off entirely at some point!” This entity has been nothing but helpful so far, but like how she could see Nicole’s thoughts, she could see hers—partially. It felt hazy and unclear, but it was clear to her that the way in which she was acting has been very purposeful. Guiding, even.
Figuring that it wasn’t worth arguing against Nicole’s threats, the parasite focuses on what’s most important at the moment—getting out of the water.
A small rowboat appears in the water before them.
Hop in. We’re going to have a lot to talk about, and it’s going to take quite a while.
Nicole groans, walking over and sitting down in the boat. At least she won’t be kicking up water. She picks up the oars and begins rowing, traversing this endless space while the pest begins to explain what she is.
What I need to do is give her a name. Calling her pest and such will only go so far. I’ll have to think about it—I’m blanking right now.
- A Century Later -
On a rainy night in the gothic city of Olkmore, a teenager sat alone in his room in the orphanage. Tomorrow, he moves out—he’s been packing all day in preparation. When the clock strikes midnight, he’d finally be eighteen. And as is required, he’d have to move out within a month of that day.
Might as well get it out of the way as soon as possible, right? Part of him was excited about this, while another part was quite nervous. He had a place to move into, bunking with a friend of his that moved out a few years prior, but this orphanage was the foundation of his life—the idea of stepping outside those doors for the last time was just… nervewracking, really.
It doesn’t help that I’m already anxious about this first photoshoot that’s coming up. I really hope it goes well, but there’s always this feeling in the back of my head; what if I’ve been propping myself up on false skills all this time? What if I get there and I’m turned away at the door?
He takes a step back from the window, not realizing he was spacing out. He lets out a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips. Getting stuck in your head again, Moss? He chuckles to himself, raising his fist and lightly knocking himself on the side of the head. He quotes something his friend told him, Don’t doubt yourself, and present yourself with all the confidence you can muster!
Confidence will only get you so far in this world.