Some people would call cliff a coward, he called himself rational. Although, that may have been the opposite of what he really was.

When you get lost, they say it’s best to sit still.

When faced with the unknown, look to the known.

When searching, have a target.

Cliff didn’t stay still. He ran straight into unknown territory. He didn’t know what he was looking for. All things he would have berated himself for.

If only they didn’t work. Luckily they did.

He had found a wood cabin in the middle of nowhere, filled with furnishings and books. This was lucky.

He could kind of make out what he was reading from the books more and more as he went over them, which he chalked up to the pictures guiding his natural comprehension. Lucky, or perhaps planned.

There were no local animals to bother and endanger him. Lucky, or perhaps not.

Cliff was a rational person. But rationality could only last so long against the encroaching madness.

All the blinds were closed and seemed to completely block out the moonlight. Cliff had realised at the first book that the more he went over it, the more he seemed to be able to grasp and read. So he went over it again and again.

And again and again. And again. Again.

Again and and again again.

And some more. And some less.

(aGaiN.)

Until he had a spark.

To have time go through the mind… but not the body…

He quickly, hurriedly stood up to open the blinds of what he only then realised was a study.

He saw movement in the shadows at the edge of his vision. He heard whispers at the edge of his hearing. Felt touches so light, that they tickled and itched.

It was when he forcefully pulled open the blinds, that he realised there was a fog in his mind as it barely cleared.

He pulled up the window and stuck out his head to try and breath the fresh air, only to be blinded by the overwhelming daylight.

There was no freshness in the air. But there was a sun in the sky denoting that he had been going over and over and ov- that it had been at least hours. Assuming time still worked the same here.

Cliff could feel his heart beating, his breaths gasps, his head hot and pounding while his back was cold with sweat.

(They say that the definition of madness is to…)

“Stop. Stop stop stop.”

He had to to take a deep breathe.

There was no temperature. Not the cold that one would find in space, or any heat to oppose. It was like it was made to desensitise. To make you forget into unfeeling.

His breathe was not quite the refresher he wanted, but it was enough.

“Probably better to keep talking to myself.”

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“I could have been in there for hours…”

(Maybe days… weeks… longer… it doesn’t matter…)

“Damn, I’m thinking faster than I’m-”

(Speaking) “talking.”

(Huh?) “Huh?”

(What?) “What?”

(…) “…”

“…weird.”

(I moved my head back and away from the window. I had to clear my head, so I decided to see what was behind the house.)

(But as I was about to exit the room, the book I was reading caught my eye. The title stood out to me. I wanted to read it out. I could call it by any one of its grand names, it wouldn’t matter. Imperial impression…)

“I-I…”

(Choir of chaos, Verses of the visionary, Babbles of Babyls…)

But what if…

“Mumbles…”

(What!?)

The pattern wasn’t really hard to find, nor was the result difficult to assume.

“…of Madness.”

(NOOOoooo…)

The voices that I could barely hear, along with the one I could hear a little too clearly… seemed to move away. Not quite gone, but at least more bearable. Like they were just people talking in the distance.

“Finally, I can hear myself think!”

Which I really needed. Probably shouldn’t have gone through books of unknown origin in a possible cult house. Now I had tiny voices in my head. But maybe…

“Solomon’s silence.”

Honestly, I was a little afraid to be put in complete silence, and a little relieved that the voices didn’t disappear.

Diving back into total silence probably would have driven me more insane than the voices in the long term.

The movement in the corner of my eyes was still driving me paranoid though. Or maybe it was the paranoia itself.

I must have spent a long time with the book and those voices, as the fatigue was overwhelming. I was forced to rest my head on the study table, my eyelids heavy.

Darkness overtook my consciousness in contrast to the bright daylight outside.

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Somewhere else…

A pair of brothers were having a conversation in a corner of a tavern.

One was dressed in full body plate armour, akin to an iron giant. At his side was a metal slab in the shape of a great sword, larger than his counterpart, who covered himself in a brown mantle that seemed to blend in with the trees, forest and ground if needed.

The larger of the two hit the table in outrage, almost breaking it, but just barely controlling his strength enough not to.

His stance on their topic was still clear however.

“No!” His voice a somehow loud whisper.

The smaller but older brother was unperturbed. He knew his brother was forceful when needed, but a kind giant otherwise. This led him into taking the role of a noble knight without any squires or servants to his name.

So, like in all their past arguments, he simply replied with the most childish option that always ticked the younger brother off.

“Yes,” He calmly stated back.

This led to a continuous back and forth typically seen from children. This escalated until the less patient knight finally let out a scream of defeat and raised his arms in annoyance.

“Gaaah, I can’t deal with you when you’re like this.” The knight crossed his arms and faced away sulking.

This gave raise to a small but tired smile behind the mantle from the older brother. He face then went grim as he remembered their conversation.

“I don’t want to, but I’m going to… I need to do this.” His mostly hidden face exuded a determination reserved for those heading towards death.

Their story was not an uncommon one.

The younger brother had his talent and special physic spotted at a young age. He was thus adopted and trained in the care of a great knight. The older brother desperately took on any form of art and training he could in order to not put shame on his younger sibling. In order to make him proud.

But the line between a knight, even if honorary, and vagabond were clear. Where one could learn military techniques straight from from a veteran, the other had to discover connections within guilds and groups to find anything useful.

One could argue that each experience has its own worth, but the stigma, the simple fear of being in his younger brother’s shadow, unable to protect him… for him to not want his protection…

The stress gave him more than one sleepless night.

Enough for him to start hearing the call.

This led to him somehow finding a crack in space. Even he did not know where it truly was. Or what it truly was.

He could not lead anyone else to it, nor could he tell them where it was.

He had tried to get someone to follow him at all times to find where it was, but they seemed to always lose him.

He simply had to answer the call, and he was there. In a desert without a sun but glowing sand, with a crack in space simply there in front of him, leading to a strange kind of forest.

And there was nothing keeping him there either. He simply had to will it and he found himself back, with an unknown amount of time passing. Nothing too drastic like months or years, simply that there was no indicator of time there beside the biological clock.

Each time he was there, he could hear the faint whispers of something. Maybe many things.

Some of it offered power. Some offered peace and prosperity. None of it trustworthy. It would take a fool to accept the offer. Or maybe just someone desperate.

Someone who was willing to risk life and limb to stay ahead. Someone who had a cause that they wholeheartedly thought right.