Ratcatcher lay on something soft. It was a pleasant sensation; she wanted to keep on lazing and do nothing, relaxed for the first time in many days. No worries, no pain, pure relaxation, calm, and deep sleep. In her dreams, she and her family visited the pier again and spent hours fishing, with Dad telling stories and Mom catching the rambunctious siblings, stopping them from swimming after annoying fish refused to bite their hooks. Dreams of calm waters and splashing water brought joy to the girl. But something kept nagging her, something about…

“Acid!”

She sprung up, finding herself in a realm of blue skies and floating islands. Thick and low grass, green and pleasant to the touch, rolled all the way to the island’s edges, divided in several places by running water. A yellow sun shone on the unusual place; its sunlight cheered the girl’s soul. A cool wind blew across the island, ruffling the grass.

The sky was blue, stretching to the horizon, and other stone islands, about fifty to a hundred meters long, floated in the air, sometimes coming close to the one she was on, but never colliding. A yellow disk, far too large to be the sun of her world, dominated the sky, positioned so close enough for her to see a corona of flames forming and breaking at its outer part. There was no chirping of birds, no voices of humans, no buzzing of insects, or splashes of water. A beautiful place, devoid of life.

Is this the Serene Outside? she wondered, examining the sun. At such a close distance, it should’ve burned her to a crisp.

The teachings of the Planet spoke of a realm housing the wicked, mad, and misguided. Unlike other religions, the Planet had no hell or heaven. All souls leaving the world are to be reborn, whether in this reality or on some unknown plane. The Planet, a loving parent, watched over its offspring, and its holy spirits listed every deed committed by each individual soul. The Planet was a strict parent, the one ensuring punishment for an evil deed.

But the Planet wasn’t vengeful. Those who lived their lives fairly traveled cheerfully to the afterlife, often reuniting with lost family members or friends who chose to stay and wait. The irredeemable and the evil were made to remain until the fury in their souls was tempered and a lost soul could find itself reborn under different circumstances, living out a life meant to imprint a lesson.

Ratcatcher walked to the closest stream, wondering if perhaps she had done something truly bad. Of course she did! The memories of the pleading person came flooding back to her — that time in the Scrapyard when Ratcatcher had the opportunity to save someone and left them behind, running to get Dad. No doubt the Planet is pondering what to do about her and what sort of lesson in humility she needs to learn in the next life to shine even brighter in the one after.

The clear stream hummed, falling from the island’s edge, and white foam rose into the air. She breathed it in, enjoying the cool air and admiring the pristine, unrivaled clarity of the water. The stream wasn’t deep; she could see stones, and the girl reached out her hand…

A hand she no longer possessed. Oh, she did reach out with something, alright! An appendage with round curves, black on the outside and purple in the middle. Ratcatcher panicked and tried to examine herself, horrified by her form. She had no legs or tail; a single fat stalk connected her to the ground, and she moved around like an oversized snail. Only she could feel her limbs! She walked; without walking, she reached out, moving the non-existing fingers, and when she stepped into the water, she experienced coldness washing over her toes.

“Woke up, kid?” A kind voice asked her. “Don’t panic. Breathe, if you can.”

A person sitting in a wooden chair, dressed in a simple blue toga, poured tea from a metal kettle into a small glass on a table. A table stood in the clearing in the middle of the grass. Paved stones formed a perfectly round circle that wasn’t here before. The person had an impressively tall build; his arms were thick; a long mane of hair covered him to the waist; and a fair face unmarred by scars turned to her. He studied her with two bright green eyes.

“Who are you? Are you a judge working for the Planet?” Ratcatcher fired up her question and slapped herself across the face, feeling fingers and seeing the appendage. Of course he is! Who else could it be? Think, think, what should a devout do… Ah, yes, tell all about the misdeeds! “If so, I confess all my sins! I left a person to die, I stole Liam’s last sweet roll, I’m guilty of no less than six hundred cases of jaywalking, one time I even scared a couple when I leapt over their car, and I blatantly copied Carlos’ homework and didn’t give credit for it. Please let me wait for the rest of my family and reincarnate me later in a rich family, preferably in Iterna…”

“Peace, child, I am no deity or spirit!” Another glass appeared in his hand, and one more chair materialized out of thin air. “You live still, trapped in the mindscape belonging to another. Do you know what a mindscape is?”

“Nope,” Ratcatcher admitted.

“It is a place in the mind to be short. Time flows differently here, but it flows, and I shall not waste it.” He set the glass down. “Concentrate. Imagine the shape of your body. Will it into existence. Nothing is real here, and all can be created by a passing thought. It may sound weird…”

She didn’t listen to him, closing the eyes she didn’t have and spreading her appendages wide. Imagine something? Huh, she can do it. She imagined a tail protruding from the middle of her spine, long and thick, ending in a single cruel talon. No, two are better! Yeah, the tail split at the end, and two talons, nimble as fingers and tough as a power suit, formed, almost reflecting the sunlight. Thick and gorgeous fur covered her body, as soft as Dad’s and as tough as Mom’s. And legs! Can’t forget about them. Two columns of muscle to match the arms, all ending in claws sharp and long enough to make a Wolfkin choke in envy.

Ratcatcher opened her eyes, blinking happily that it had worked. She kept one human eye, transforming the rest of her body into a perfect copy of a body superior to her Mom’s and…

The horrific realization of just what she had done dawned on her, and the girl gasped in embarrassment, covering her breasts and private parts. Naked! She was naked! In panic, she imagined cargo pants and a sleeveless shirt reaching up to her navel and leaving enough room to not touch the base of her tail.

“Are you the one who locked me in?” She asked, thanking the Planet for the thick fur that hid her blushing. Idiot, stupid fool. Made herself an awesome body and forgot about clothes. “Are you the Chosen Prince?”

“No.” The man shook his head, pointing at the free chair. Ratcatcher hesitated and accepted the offer, sitting against him and sensing the authenticity of the wood. As she took a cup of tea, she smelled the pleasant aroma of dark tea, enjoyed its warmth, and felt the liquid filling her stomach. It felt real; it was real! “You may call me Echo. I don’t remember my real name.”

“Don’t remember, or don’t want to tell?” Ratcatcher inquired, remembering what the Chosen Prince did to her. And the acid bath. She should have been dead. “Who are you, mister?”

“Don’t remember,” the man insisted. “I am a splinter of personality, resurrected by chance, a ghost of the man imprisoned by his own power.” Echo’s impression softened. “Even on my first day of life, I remember well the decades he had spent locked here, trying in vain to stop the warped conquest led by a singular desire stolen by another. He wasn’t a good man, but he would’ve never done what his power did using his body.”

“Power…” Ratcatcher repeated, struggling to make sense out of what the man had told her. How can you remember decades if you’re living your first day? Is this man mad? Maybe he is the Chosen Prince, or a facet of his personality is toying with and tormenting her. If that was his plan, it sure worked. Her head is already aching from the contradictions.

Power can’t take over. It’s not a sentient thing! Sure, there were passive powers. Regeneration didn’t need its users’ permission to be active. All members of the Wolf Tribe had a passive power, but they could deny it. A police chief in Iterna had suffered from an unusual affliction. The man has the power to see several seconds in the future on a constant basis, so he used the power-suppressing drug to live a normal life.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Power is not a sentient thing. It could make some motions depending on the ability it grants to its user, but acting on its own? Impossible; such a thing has never happened in over two centuries that have passed since the Extinction.

“I am not sure I believe you or understand you, mister,” Ratcatcher said at last.

“That’s fair!” Echo laughed. “I wouldn’t believe in such a story either! But the question of your belief is irrelevant, girl…”

“Eliza,” she introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you, Eliza. Your body is alive, taken by the Chosen Prince. He had used it to make himself another body, but yours is still stuck inside his torso. You are in danger, and we must return you to the real world.”

She shuddered, remembering the pain and her ruined body. Return to what? Was there anything left to go back to? Why should she abandon a working body, a place where all her dreams can come true with a simple wish, and…

Ratcatcher remembered her family. Small, irritating, and lovable Liam. Gentle Mom. Hardworking Dad. Her friends and everyone else were left at the mercy of the resurrected beast.

“I won’t help this bastard,” Ratcatcher said bluntly, reading herself to be smitten.

“Good,” Echo said. “I too want him to fail. This charade of pointless struggle has to come to an end. Stonehelm is better off without us.”

He halted, and Ratcatcher heard a bang. The sky remained the same, but a single black dot appeared against the blue, falling down like a star. Echo was already on his feet, hand outstretched to keep her behind, and a sword appeared on his waist, willed into existence with a thought. The ground shook slightly when the dot cratered into it, spreading a web of cracks. The damage healed as fast as it appeared, leaving another body, a perfect copy of the one Ratcatcher had had a few moments ago, lying on soft grass.

And it groaned in a very familiar tone.

“Vasily!” Ratcatcher darted to the figure, turned it over, and slapped the round spot where she thought a face should be. Her friend groaned again, and she gathered some water in her hands, pouring it at him, remembering the feeling of having parts of her body despite lacking them.

“A few more seconds, grandma…” Vasily said, not exactly opening his eyes; there wasn’t anything on the smooth surface of his shape, yet mimicking the expression with flying colors. “Ah! A demon!”

“I’m not a demon, you idiot!” She slapped the boy and gasped. Her move sent him several centimeters deep into the ground. “Vasily, I am so sorry! It’s me, Ratcatcher…”

“The hell you are, ogre!”

“I didn’t think, I…”

“Okay, now I believe you. Ain’t no one else could mimic that confusion,” he laughed, wrapping his arm appendage around her wrist. “What is this?!” He examined his hand and sat. “Are we dead?” Vasily looked around. “Who won?”

“What are you talking about?” Ratcatcher tilted her head and dropped to her knees.

“Which faith was right?” Vasily asked. “Obviously, the Church of the Planet was wrong, judging by the fact that we weren’t reborn. Also, I don’t see any apostles or grand cathedrals or angels flying around, so I guess my faith wasn’t right either. Blast it, were the werewolves correct? Is that why you look like an oversized furry, your red eye beaming, and you stand in an open field? Is that it? The Spirits are the ones governing the afterlife? How do they judge? What kind of punishment do they mete out…”

“You’re taking your supposed death rather well, child,” Echo said, coming closer.

“Eh, no point crying over spilled milk. As the saying goes, death takes the best of us first, and since we are here, this means I was better than Carlos all along. Yay for me!” Vasily waved his hand. Ratcatcher caught hints of nervousness in his voice, and the teen kept blabbering, coping with fear, and holding back tears. “Since you are here and in a human body, sir, I guess the faith in the Spirits also isn’t the correct one. I suppose you are an arbiter or something. Lay out for me, what so horrible Eliza did for you to remake her into a demonic furry?” He sniffed and wiped his face with an appendage. “Also, if it’s possible, I’d like to tell my family somehow that I’m happy and wish them all the best. I’d like to be sent to heaven as an angel or reincarnated into a prosperous lineage in Iterna…”

“We are still alive, you jerkass!” Ratcatcher snapped. Demon? As if! She is awesome!

It took them some time to calm down and explain to Vasily how he could manipulate his body in this mindscape, whatever it was. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and stood as a figure clad in armor, a long cloak stretching down his back, a gruesome mace in one hand, and a round helmet hiding the mighty head.

“How’s that for a change?” Vasily asked, heaping a mace over a shoulder.

“Show off,” Ratcatcher pouted, annoyed that she hadn’t thought of something equally cool. Clothes, ever clothes! “Okay, Mr. Echo. If I understand right, our bodies are… incorporated by the Chosen Prince?”

“Yes,” Echo responded. “He never did such a thing before; at least I don’t remember it. But something has changed. With his mind slipping, I sense rapid shifts as his brain offloads part of its burden on yours and recoils back in disgust at the need to rely on the lesser things.”

“How do you know it?” Vasily asked.

“He and I are the one,” Echo said. “Where one exists, so does the other. He couldn’t come back from the resurrection alone, and so he recreated me.” He pointed at the surrounding area with a hand. “We are in his mind. Make no mistake, the Chosen Prince controls everything here, yet he allowed me to shape this place. I think he likes it. A place he longs for and could have had if it weren’t for his compulsive need to dominate.

“Back when the original lived, he had startled the Chosen Prince in a desperate attempt to regain control of the body and stop the madness. Even he, a person who had killed so many, understood the consequences of his moment of weakness and what exactly he had given life by accepting a deal long forgotten. The Chosen Prince no longer remembers this weakness of his. If we all work together to disrupt his thoughts, there is a chance that he will slip. And I will use this opportunity to release your bodies. And that will be his downfall, because his made body is deteriorating at a rapid rate. In time, he may stabilize it. Or spell doom to others trying to. It is one and the same for him. But if we deny him the refuge now, before he can incorporate more, he’ll break. For this, I’ll need you to let me guide your wills.”

Ratcatcher caught touches of hope in the man’s voice. He wasn’t sure. Echo surveyed the trainees and sighed, putting his hands on their shoulders and meeting their eyes with his determined, sharp gaze.

“I won’t lie. You have no reason to trust me, and even should the Chosen Prince expunge your bodies, there is a high chance of you dying. I can’t sense your bodies. I do not know what kind of mutilation he has inflicted on each of you, but I remember enough to know how grievous it is.”

“You underestimate modern medicine,” Vasily said.

“So, in the worst-case scenario, we make the bastard stumble?” Ratcatcher asked, and Echo nodded. She exchanged glances with Vasily, grinned, and hugged him. “Bring it on! How do we…”

A sudden clap of thunder startled them. Ratcatcher whirled, letting out the claws the size of daggers. Vasily picked up his mace in both hands. They had thought that the Chosen Prince had overheard them and arrived to exact vengeance for this attempted rebellion. But something else entirely was happening.

The sky turned black with clouds, and lightning struck, detonating several distant islands. A torrent of water fell upon the group, soaking them and drowning their legs up to their ankles. She saw flashes of light on the storm front above, and it parted to form a single, even line of light, casting an otherworldly golden glow on the assembled people.

“Is this the Chosen Prince’s doing?” Vasily hushed.

White clouds appeared in this line of light, forming a perfect tube stretching toward them. And at the far end of that tube, dazzling white wings appeared, six of them, hiding someone approaching from view. A celestial hymn started playing; she heard horns, harps, and a singing chorus of cherubim hidden from view. Their gentle voices crying praises brought tears to Ratcatcher’s eyes, reminding her of the first time she saw Morningstar and all its wonders. The first time she had marveled at the Planet’s great chapel, and the sheer awe she had felt at the sight of the magnificent statues in its halls. The song both inspired and demanded obedience, promising tranquility and prosperity.

“Don’t listen to it,” Echo shouted. “No matter what don’t…”

“Let the children make their own choice, will you, gasp of the past?” A voice spoke, echoing off each strand of glass, reflecting off the water, calming the raging fury and turning the rest of the sky blue again. And Echo fell silent, frozen in place, unharmed and unable to speak. Two crimson orbs shone through the feathers, engulfing Vasily and Ratcatcher in a circle of red.

“Who… who are you?” Ratcatcher asked.

“I have many names, my child.” She sensed a condescending smile in the deep voice, an all-knowing, understanding demanding her to fall on her knees and worship the ground touched by this presence. “I am light glittering in the morning dew. My breath brings happiness to the faithful, and my thoughts topple the tyrants. My heartbeat gave birth to the star that shines upon this world; my hands molded your race; and my words taught you reason. I am the one you know as the Planet, Spirits, Champion, and so many other silly names you children have invented for me. One True God. And I have come to deliver you from this peril.”

The winds unfurled, revealing a perfect body. He has an average height, standing head shorter than the dream body Ratcatcher had made for herself. His body was a white light, so bright it hurt her eyes just to look at him. His six large wings were a different color each, but each reminded her of the brightest pearl possible. Crimson eyes stained the perfect white silhouette, shining like newborn stars, and the white hair drifted of its own accord. A beautiful white arm extended a hand toward the trainees, stunning them with the sheer perfection of its proportions and commanding them to take it.

“If only you would accept my blessing and swear eternal fealty to me.”