Grains brand my cheek and hands. The bleary drops in an instant, and I am thirty feet in the air, falling to the ground. I have to hop twice more to reach an appropriate inertia to land. My response was extreme, but you can’t be too cautious. Assess the situation, idiot. There is nothing but sand, and it is midday. It’s too hot for the season, and my feet burn on the sand. Its’ black luster in the sun streams across waiving dunes. My mother— I had heard about this place, but to see the endless sands of Destructions’ waste in person. I wonder if I’ll see a worm— Either way, I must leave before the others gain consciousness. Vesh, in particular, will not be willing to follow my plan regardless of the approach. We will have to leave it like this.
At this point, I can no longer help myself and look to the prone people who had accompanied me outside of the walls. They look fragile, but that is a bias I have toward people in their station. The clothes and general care are clear distinguishers between us. But that is not why I have to leave. I have to leave because they will slow me down and might try and stop me. Vesh looks to be in pain, but I can’t help them.
Sure, they trusted me, but I didn’t promise further than here. The rest aren’t as hard to leave as Vesh. They are different; not perfect or even great, but different. I like them, but I have a task. Mind made; I don’t glance back before teleporting two hundred meters east. I start running before jumping another two-hundred-fifty meters. For some reason, the ability increases in efficiency as I use it until a ceiling of three hundred and fifty. It almost feels like I am building momentum as I exchange between this and another symcosm. The transition stopped nauseating me around the age of ten, which was two years into my training. From what I remember, it is quite a feeling. I still get it, but now I embrace it instead of cringing away. In this, at least, I have grown.
Thoughts of the task ahead clutter me in my forced breaks. The ends would justify the means—a life for a light, my light. But I find a distraction on the way, a little worm that thinks itself mighty. I slay it and bathe in the blood that showers the sky. My body falters when it can no longer move, but I find no respite in rest. The days in the waste don’t end, and the sun never moves from midday to its hottest. It beats a constant drum against my cracked skin. The only relief I find is the goodies packed away by that insightful dunderhead. Poultices heal the skin, and mana-infused water jugs rejuvenate my dry throat.
“It has probably been a couple of weeks… I wonder if they're okay.” I say to myself.
“Well, you left them to die, so they probably did that-”
“But Jer would be harder to kill than that, and Vesh…”
“The person who accepted you even after seeing you.”
“They didn’t see the real thing. They saw what I wanted.”
“Is that so? You tricked them so easily? Like in the beginning when you were a spy?”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
With no one else to talk to, it isn’t so absurd to talk to yourself. And people who talk to themselves are sometimes seen as geniuses, so there's that. I kick the sand on the fire and roll onto my sleeping bag. It is scorching and bright, but Vesh has seen ahead even there. A small tent in the pack keeps off the sun and cools the air inside. There is also this little foliage surrounding a small boulder. The only plant is a short tree with oval leaves the size of my face. But the roots aren’t poisonous, and the wood makes for a stew fire fine. I again push away the thought of doubt and guilt before succumbing to sleep. I have no time; I have a person to find and a person to kill or as many as it takes.
I awake with fire spreading all over my back, and my first thought is to roll— lousy instincts. Muscles are nice, but they increase the surface area burning on the ground. I place my hands against the sand, and it sets them ablaze.
“Fuck.” I shout, opening my eyes to the blinding light coming from everywhere.
I get to my knees and receive a slight relief as my pants heat, but the cloth won't insulate me for long. I can create enough shade with both hands to make something of it. But there is nothing around. Sand extends as far as it can- wait. There is a rock with some vegetation around it. Great, we will be much better off if we can find more. I’m on my feet in another moment, dragging Vesh up with me. They fight against waking and won’t stand up. Oh, Great. Now I have to do everything. I look at the rest of our group and count one head short. By the looks of the hair buried in the sand, it is Shannai. She must have ditched us; there was no way someone would attack and only take her. Unless she noticed early and intercepted them? No, she probably left us. Fine enough.
“Up and at ‘em, Gale, Lisen. One of you will need to carry Vesh. We will set up camp at that rock a kilometer up the way. There, Lisen can tend to Vesh. Any objections?” I delegate, hoping the two will be OK with my commanding tone.
“I think you’re carrying them, but we will see what we can do once we get up there.” Gale rejects it with a slight smile.
“Worth a shot,” I mumble as I haul my light friend.
“Where is the Princess?” Lisen asks.
“Princess?” I chuckle, looking at the meek woman.
She meeks at my attention, causing me to chuckle again. People look at me like that, but I can’t help that. Part of me likes it, but another part resents her for being so intimidated by it and for paying attention to it. But I can’t blame her because I am gorgeous. So Instead, I smile at her and Gale to elicit the full range of reactions and find more joy in this shit day.
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But my friend’s struggling grunts levy my bravado. Vesh’s breathing is jagged, breaking off for an eternal second before resuming. Their muscles twist and writhe. They move so much that I have to throw them over my shoulder. Then we are there, and Gale sets up the tent while Lisen helps Vesh from my shoulder. She begins administering her healing, but it looks utterly ineffective to me. Vesh told me how crazy healing magic is, but is she good?
“What’s wrong with them?” I ask after a moment.
“I don’t know… It isn’t something common for sure.”
“What do you mean by common?”
“I mean, I have never seen this. The closest I can think of is depletion sickness, but that can’t be it.”
“Can you help?” I implore, starting to freak out.
“I will try to help Gale set up, and I will call you if I need you,” she says, brushing me off.
I am thoughtlessly furious at the mere suggestion for a split second, and then I am calm enough to see the reason through my panic. I am in the way.
“I’ll do that,” I grumble.
The tents are too weak to handle my frustration and tears before Gale sends me to rip up the trees. I do so with zeal and find relief in the compliant plants. They rip from the ground with nary a protest to break across my leg. How long have they grown in this shit only to be torn apart by my hands? I care not as they offer me relief and sustenance. Lisen is too quiet, but I don’t look over. She will do what she can, and If Vesh- Vesh will be okay. We will be alright. Or I will find that Princess and show her the folly of abandoning my friend. What if the difference in time means Vesh’s life? What If- But it will be okay.
The reassurances are for me and nothing else in my path. All those plants have no respite from my wrath. The sun doesn’t move from its spot, beaming down on our group as we get ready for sleep. We hadn’t made it far, and with Vesh’s condition, we staggered more often than we stepped. The look on Gale’s face when I burst into her tent tells me to shut the fuck up and let Lisen sleep. I would know more in the morning. All I need to do now is sleep, but that is a challenge I cannot rival now.
There are approximately seven trillion nerves within my body. How do I know this? Each is currently in the process of bursting continuously. Pain loses its meaning. Semantics satiating my need for relief with pure dissociation. The pain is me and exists in me, but I am apart from it. I can detach it as quickly as a hair from my head. I am in my garden; the weeds have grown, and my trees are wilting in the cold.
The brittle layer of ice above the snow cracks when I step on it, and some snow gets into my boots. The small marshy pit at the center is completely frozen over. I find my spot in the center of the copse of trees. The linen pillow there is unaffected by the landscape and warms under my presence. It is unpleasant, but it is suitable even with its lackluster stitching. I close myself to the chill and center on the warmth radiating from my core, from my persistence. In moments, the wind warms, and the sun peeks through the clouds. They, too, are curious, huh? I can hear the drips of melting snow in a few more moments. I can see the problem now. I had almost died because the matter of my body became oversaturated. My channels, tissue, bones, and organs are all oversaturated.
What does this mean? I don’t know. It seems similar to depletion sickness because I can’t affect my magic. I produce an effect of magic from mana by guiding it and ambient mana with my own. But with this, there is too much mana for me to influence anything. The mana also infuses my biological matter, so much so that I can’t cleanse it. Fuck. The agony leaks through again, and my world shatters before reforming as quickly.
Fuuck. Let’s avoid that. We need to find a way to deal with excess mana. One me looks at the other with a confused face.
“Uh, are you me?” We both ask.
We both confirm that it isn’t the most pressing matter, and we delegate responsibilities like this. I would focus on dissociating and maintaining the garden, and I would focus on studying how to deal with the excess mana. We both agreed it would be good to switch jobs if we remain in this state for longer than two days. With that figured out, I broke up and did both things simultaneously. I share the same experiences, but neither is me; I lay somewhere in between.
This diversion soon becomes more pronounced as both mes start envisioning themselves apart from each other and myself. One grows out their hair and starts a promising mustache across my face. The other goes bald and likes it so much that they shave from head to toe. They keep the robes the same as simple cuts, but the colors change. Red for my mustachioed alter ego and blue for Baldy.
The me that still is me isn’t fully awake. I slumber under the care of the alters and only observe the progress. The two keep to strict schedules and have started eating meals together. I had decided that changing jobs wasn’t necessary as long as I agreed, and I agreed. The bald me preferred the garden and the breeze that perpetually blew against my bald head. Mustache prefers the library with similar reasoning that revolves around their mustache. I find the pair eccentric, but I can’t object to the usefulness of my results.
I have made advances on all fronts and am now closer to finding a way to deal with this mana. The basic plan comes together in a week. That is a week in this state, but I am unsure of the actual flow of time. Either way, it wasn’t long before I knew what to do. The problem is how to do it.
I need to form a mana gem inside my body and form a power rune on my flesh to anchor it. The problem is calculating what size and material would be best. Also, I can’t use magic, so I must naturally form the mana gem. The prospect is daunting, but in my research, I learned it is essential. If I don’t form the mana gem, it will form randomly in my body. And if it forms anywhere but my center, I will destabilize and implode.
“Wake up, Urch.” The dead reprobate shouted as they shook me.
“There better be a raid,” I mumble.
“There is! Two units are moving into a pincer,” the lucky kid blubbers.
“Shut up. We buggin'?”
“Da bug-outs all set, Urch. We’ll make it out in ten.”
“Alright, go check in your unit.”
The kid runs from the room. I can’t tell if they’re afraid of the raid or me. Either way, it will pep those steps. I grab my coat from the dislodged chunk of wall I’d hung it on. The dilapidated warehouse was a good hiding spot but stinks of shoe polish. We got a few weeks of refuge in its refuse. But now the eyes of creation are upon us, and we must flee again.
We have been on the run for five months now. In those long months, Vesh’s directions remained specific and seemed clairvoyant. Without them, we would have died back in the capital. With them, we have successfully evaded the eyes. And yet, I still find it hard to trust them. Do we need to leave so early? The members rushing through the hallway show me an unearned deference, bowing and scraping when they should be buggin’.
“Hustle to it. No time for bull puff,” I command in my best leadership voice.
They crumble into their routes and rush off. I don’t deserve the respect, but without it, they will die, so I have to keep my face looking forward to our goal. The command room is on fire. The people bustle and burn with an assurance I can’t muster. My second holds three at attention before coming to my side.
“It is all following procedure,” they affirm what my eyes can see.
“After the fifth time, you would expect some resistance.”
“Have you not heard?”
“I got the bug order? We were due- is it prompted?”
“Yes, assumed contact on the southern recon team. There were no survivors, but the backup was— we confirmed contact. We have sent a stalling force, but we expect losses.”
“Hold it,” I command with a shit fear in my stomach.
“I know the instructions are clear, but I am sure that Vesh couldn’t have predicted the response team sent by the Sanctum. Plus, we have increased in value as a target since taking on that squadron-”
“We have only one directive. It doesn’t involve fighting, yet...” I mutter the last part, but my second isn’t stupid, and the instructions are clear. “We follow the course. Cancel the squad and put them on hauling. Everyone else heard the show. Pick up your asses and move to the evac.” My second barks, inciting the fire to burst from the room.
“Another one?” I note as the courier reaches me.
“It’s from the backup recon squad in the south.” They clarify, handing me a note.
The text is loose in grammar and alignment, but the message is clear. The forces in the south have begun to retreat in mass. The platoon chasing us has reversed course. The time to move is now, yet I can only think about those prolific instructions. Has Vesh done something? But how could anyone provoke this? Either way, we have to move, and I can only wonder about a growing god.