Orion awoke in his small room, already missing the peace of sleep. Wakefulness brought with it awareness, and of course, pain. He rubbed his aching legs, once more cursing the luck that granted him this existence.
He reached for the painkillers beside his bed, knowing full well that they wouldn’t do anything for the pain—their only function at this point to stop him from going into opioid withdrawal.
He hated waking up. His mental resilience was always at an all-time-low first thing in the morning, and it was when his brain was most prone to bouts of rumination. He sat up, fighting through the agony to push his legs over the side of the bed. He was rubbing them gingerly when the only good thing left in his life threw open the door.
“Good morning, sleepy!” his annoyingly bubbly sister sang as she skipped to the window and threw open the curtains.
Mira was as happy as ever, a smile that encompassed her entire face beaming out infectiously. Her long brown curls—hanging just past her shoulders—moving around with her as she all but bounced off the walls.
Seeing his sister, Orion couldn’t help but smile along with her. He watched as she tottered around the room, unable to keep still for more than a moment, tidying and straightening the few belongings he had. She lined up the books he’d haphazardly thrown on his dresser and packed away the controller from the decades-old gaming console he’d been playing last night when the pain wouldn’t allow him to sleep.
“So! What’s the plan for today, sunshine?” She used her long-sleeved shirt to brush dust off of his ancient computer monitor.
“Well, we could catch up on our school work,” Orion suggested.
“Pssssh.” She made a dismissive gesture. “You mean I could catch up on my schoolwork. We both know you’re way more advanced than those home-schooling packets they send out to us.”
“I still have to fill them out too, Mira. I’ll help you with your work, but I’m not filling them out like last time.”
“Ugh. Yes, dad.” Mira got a conspiratorial look on her face, and she came over to speak softly to Orion. “I’ll make you a deal. I will happily do my work—in fact, I’ll even do the entire week’s worth of work, but you have to do something for me.”
“Oh?”
Not having to hound her to do school work for an entire week sounds too good to be true…
“And what would that be, my definitely not-up-to-no-good young sister?”
“Walk down to the creek at the end of the road with me. I know your legs hurt, but I think it would be good for you to get out of the house.”
“I don’t know.” He squinted at the sun coming in the window. “I really don’t like being outside…”
“Pleeaaaaaase? It’s so nice down there with this warm weather, and it’s so boring with no one to talk to...” She brightened, acting like she just remembered something. “I’ve made a surprise for you, too! So much hard work from your caring and loving sister, surely you can’t let it go to waste…” She tried to pout, but was still partially smiling. “How will you ever see it if you don’t come with me?”
Orion let out a sigh, already knowing that he couldn’t hope to resist the unstoppable force that was his sister.
Maybe it’ll be good for me to get some fresh air.
“Alright, we can go—”
“YAAAAAAY!” Mira squealed, jumping up in joy. “I’ll make some breakfast! Do you need help putting your splints on? No, of course you don’t! What am I saying? What do you want? Eggs? I’ll make eggs! Weeeeeee! Thank you!” She flew out of the room like a piece of paper caught in a tornado. “I loooooove youuuuuuu!” she screamed, her voice trailing off as she got further away.
Orion shook his head, but couldn’t help smiling at her antics.
A short while later, Mira was helping Orion walk down the stairs to their humble house. It was more of a shack, really, but it was still their home. After their parents had passed away, they were sent to live with their uncle. He was a busy man and was just caring enough to not let them go into the foster system. He’d set them up in their grandparents’ old home, the home that their mother and uncle had grown up in.
His justification for having them out in the middle of nowhere was that “the country air will do those legs good, boy,” though Orion suspected it had more to do with keeping them out of mind, and the cripple out of sight. Their uncle was always telling them that “the town will be bustling in no time,” that “the Housing market will increase at any moment,” and that “this place is like sitting on an eventual goldmine!”
He just wants us here to stop squatters from moving in to his goldmine, Orion thought for the hundredth time.
The only signs they received that their uncle was still alive were the homeschooling packets that came in the mail, and the weekly delivery of groceries. Orion supposed that they could have been set up in advance, so for all they knew, their mother’s brother had passed away, and there was no one other than he and his sister that knew of their existence. That was fine with him. His sister was all Orion needed, really, and as long as she was here, everything else was bearable.
They walked away from the house and began the trek to the creek at the end of the road. For anyone else, it would take no longer than a couple minutes, but for the crippled Orion, well, it would take a little while longer.
His sister walked beside him patiently, all the while bending down to pick up flowers, which her hands would then idly and systematically pluck all the petals and leaves from. She chattered constantly about the weather, the birds, the insects, and the trees. Though he didn’t participate nearly as much as she did, Mira’s idle yammering always soothed him. It made him feel not so alone as when he was stuck with his thoughts and served to distract him from the constant pain shooting up his legs. He squeezed his thighs absentmindedly as awareness of the pain returned to him.
As they walked, Orion found he was enjoying the sun and the fresh air. The season was just getting warmer, but it was still cool enough outside that the touch of the sun’s rays felt pleasant and comforting. All the while, Mira’s constant chatter brought him peace.
“Do you remember when we used to play along the creek as kids?” Mira was staring off into the distance. “Before Granny died… I remember Mum and Dad bringing us out during the summer.”
“When my legs still worked properly?” Orion winced as his words came harsher than he had intended. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound so…”
“Whiny? Depressing?” Mira laughed and elbowed his arm lightly. “I know you meant nothing by it. Look, we’re almost there!”
They walked around a bend and could see the spot where they used to access the creek from. Hanging branches of thickly vegetated trees obscured the path down. Mira pulled a few branches aside, and Orion found that Mira had carved stairs into the steep earthen slope. They’d been reinforced with weathered wood, and he was impressed with the craftsmanship.
He looked down at them, raising an eyebrow.
“When did you find the time to cut stairs into the hill? How did you even know how to reinforce them?”
Mira gave him a flat look.
“You spend most of the day either reading or playing games. Did you think I’ve just been sitting around?” She took his hand and started helping him down the stairs. “And what do you mean by how? I may not be as smart as you, but that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. I dug holes and put some wood down—it’s really not that complicated.”
They slowly and painfully made their way down the embankment. The air was cool and refreshing as the shade from the trees above blocked out the morning sun, and the slowly running water of the creek filled the area with a calming noise.
There was a giant oak tree right on the edge of the water. Hanging from its branches was a rope swing, attached to a thick branch ten-meters above. The swing hung over the running water of the creek, the bank a sheer drop of two meters where flood water had eaten into the surrounding earth.
“Alright, how the hell did you get that rope up there?” Orion asked.
“How this, how that,” Mira mocked. “A magician never reveals her secrets.”
He walked over to the swing with his sister’s help, his pride at needing assistance from her long since worn away. He admired the swing, completely lost on how his little sister had made this thing in secret… and make it so well.
She pulled the swing back past the drop, then helped him up onto it and started pushing. The relief of his legs hanging and touching nothing after the painful walk down to the creek was bliss. He closed his eyes, focusing on the cool wind as he swung slowly out over the water. The sound of the running water was louder here, and between the assault on his other senses, Orion could hardly feel the pain in his legs.
Before he knew it, Orion’s swinging had slowed, and he looked back at his sister to see something he hadn’t seen in years—hesitation on her face.
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“Do… do you like it?” she asked shyly.
He put his feet down as he swung back onto land, wincing at the pain of his legs returning abruptly as his feet hit the ground.
“Like it? I love it, Mira. That was the most relaxed I think I’ve ever felt. I just can’t believe you made this thing all by yourself.” He looked up at the branch above, the ropes fixed there with sturdy knots. “It’s amazing…”
Mira leaped at Orion, hugging him tight. “I’m SO glad you like it! I really wanted you to be surprised. Do you think we can come down here more often? It really would be good for us to get out more. It might get too cold in winter, though. Maybe we can ask uncle for more winter clothes. Summer might get hot, but it’s hot at home too, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”
Orion laughed at his sister’s returned confidence, and the stream of consciousness that came spewing out as a result.
“I’m sure it’ll be lovely in every season. Maybe we walk down every afternoon—after we do our school work, of course.”
Mira let out a groan.
“Why did you have to bring the school work up and ruin such a lovely moment? I was enjoying myself…”
“I seem to remember someone promising to do an entire week’s worth of work if I accompanied her down to the creek…”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” An evil grin crossed Mira’s face. “However, I didn’t say when I would do it. I think stretching it out over a week would be prudent. We don’t want to damage my delicate little brain, after all.”
“Naturally.” Orion nodded along with a grin. “We can do a little every day, and afterwards, we can come down to the creek.” He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal, miss delicate little brain?”
“Indeed, sir!” Mira said in a deep voice, imitating their uncle.
She took his hand and shook it vigorously, a smile of the purest joy plastered on her face.
The next few weeks saw them slip into somewhat of a routine. They studied after breakfast and walked down to the creek afterwards. Orion wasn’t sure if it was the exercise, or a shift in his mentality, but every morning when he woke, his legs felt a little better.
One morning, Orion woke to the crack of thunder. Mira had said they didn’t have to go for their usual walk, but Orion saw the disappointing on her face, so he insisted. They studied quickly, found umbrellas in the shed, and began their journey down to the creek.
The rain was bucketing down. The splashes of water hitting Orion’s legs were almost soothing, a welcome distraction from the ever-present pain. Orion walked along on the edge of the road, the now-soaked ground too awkward for his delicate footing. Even the walk had been getting better over time, his legs slowly building up muscle to handle the trip down to the creek. Orion looked at Mira to see her pouting at him from beneath her umbrella.
“You really shouldn’t be walking on the road,” she said, her feet squelching in the mud as she walked beside him.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. We’re almost there,” Orion yelled over the rain. “Besides, how often have we actually seen a car on this road?”
A sudden, cyclonic gust of wind slammed into Orion, knocking him off balance and making him drop his umbrella. It flew a few meters back and into the middle of the road. Cursing his luck, he hobbled after it, bending down to grab it.
“ORION!” Mira screamed.
The urgency and fear in her voice ran a spear through Orion’s chest.
Tires squealed.
Orion spun around to see a rusty pickup-truck only a few meters away, coming too fast for it to have a hope of stopping in time. He froze.
Time slowed, and he watched as the car approached in slow-motion. He tried to move, to jump, to scream, anything… but his body wouldn’t move.
Suddenly, he was thrown to the side. In his fall, he saw long curly hair, and a look of desperation as Mira threw him to safety, out of the way of the deadly mass of metal.
Time was still traveling at a crawl, and he watched in horror as the pickup was about to collide at full speed with the one source of joy he had left in this world. The back of his head hit the ground, and Orion blacked out.
***
He woke up to a splitting headache and torrential rain pelting his body. The sensations disappeared as he scrambled to his feet, looking for his sister.
He found her easily enough.
She lay on the side of the road, almost appearing as though she was sleeping. Orion ran over. Her unseeing eyes staring up at the sky shattered the facade of sleep, and Orion’s world crumbled.
He got to his knees in the mud, slapping her face and trying to draw her back to him.
Her eyes remained glassy and unseeing.
He held her there for what could have been minutes or hours. He screamed until his throat was numb and no longer made a sound, his emotions cycling between despair and anguish.
He looked for the cause, the thing that had done this to her, but all that remained of the car were two black marks on the road. When there was nothing external there to blame, his hatred turned inwards.
He had been the one walking on the road. He had let his umbrella get blown away, and he had gone to pick it up without even looking. She had tried to get him to not walk on the road, and he hadn’t listened. And for what? Because walking in the mud made his legs hurt…
She was the sweetest and most caring person on this planet. She saw everyone through a filter of positivity and love. That person… that beacon of light and joy had sacrificed her life for his. Her life had been snuffed out to save a crippled, agoraphobic pessimist…
And it is all my fault.
He got to his feet without realizing it, carrying his little sister in his arms. She felt so light, but his body felt so heavy. He made his was down the stairs, ignoring the false pain of bone breaking and skin splitting as he stepped through the mud, carrying both of their weight.
He set her down at the base of the tree by the water’s edge. She looked so small and frail as she leaned against the wide, ancient trunk of the oak. She looked so peaceful, and it drove a knife into his chest—knowing she would never wake drove it deeper.
He fell to his hands and knees, feeling like someone was twisting the blade in his gut. Unable to stand the agony, he curled up, wishing more than anything that he could cease to exist. He cried there, holding his little sister’s hand, until he felt nothing.
Orion got to his feet eventually, wandering over to the swing that hung over the open water. He pulled it back to solid ground and began undoing one of the knots at the base.
When the knot was undone, he started tying a new one. The knot he was making was one he’d seen a picture of online, his near-perfect memory now guiding his hands as he looped the rope back and forth.
He slipped the new knot into place, tightening it and checking its integrity with a few tugs.
Satisfied, he stepped off the raised bank. He didn’t fall far.
As he hung there in the open air, the physical pains of his body left him. The pain in his legs faded, as did everything else.
Soon, he felt nothing at all.
***
Orion sat up, gasping for air and clawing at his neck. He was back in his robe, and his new staff lay on the ground before him. There was a distinct lack of pain in his legs. His vision swam, and through the tears he could see the now familiar vista of open space, a pitch-black sky, and swirling galaxies in the far distance. He held his knees to his chest and sobbed, trying and failing not to think of the body of his little sister, laying there lifeless against the oak tree.
“I… I am truly sorry that you had to see that, Orion.”
Orion looked up to see The Creator standing before him. He couldn’t respond. Even if he wanted to say something, his throat wouldn’t voice it. He put his head back between his knees and let the pain pour out.
After a few minutes, when his crying subsided, The Creator spoke again.
“There was no way for me to only return memories to some of you. I truly intended it—taking them in the first place, that is—as a kindness. I believed that robbing you of your painful memories would allow you all to start fresh, to lay a new foundation which you could build a life upon.”
The Creator sighed.
“All that were chosen to be brought here, after all, were not cruel people before departing your previous world. Taking away the memories of what had been done to them, ironically, is what turned some to cruelty.” The Creator ran his hand through his shaggy hair. “I was not able to hold all the lingering emotions and feelings at bay, as I’m sure you well know. I believe that is the cause of all the evil that has been perpetrated in this proving ground—I unknowingly created the perfect storm for some to commit great injustice and evil.”
Orion sat there in silence for a good while, mulling over what had been said.
“So, what, people like Felsteg will be good now that you’ve returned our memories?”
“Well, there are no guarantees. Hopefully, remembering they were once good people that had been victims of what they now perpetrate will give some… perspective. I did not wish to burden you all with the painful stories of your past, but I was left absent choice. I hope you can forgive—”
“That’s bullshit!” Orion yelled, tears welling up once more. “So we are the ones that have to pay the price for their malice? Mira… my little sister. Our lives were already hard. We already lived through such tragedy. She dealt with so much…”
Orion fought through the tears, determined to finish his point.
“You know what the worst thing is? I wish I could forget her again. I wish I could go back to knowing that my little sister—the one thing I truly loved, and the one thing that kept me going in my previous life—never existed.”
Orion took a quaking breath.
“What’s wrong with me? What kind of person wishes they could erase someone like her…?”
Orion broke, the flood of tears coming at full force after putting words to his deepest guilt.
“Oh, Orion…” The Creator bent down, putting his hand on Orion’s back. “It’s perfectly normal to have such thoughts after dealing with such significant loss, and just as normal to feel a sense of guilt and self recrimination. It is, unfortunately, part of being human. Our brains look for ways to escape pain, even if it means wishing to forget people that were once important to us… even those that were more important than anything.”
“But,” he continued, “you must continue to push forward. For yourself, and for those that rely on you. After all, your friends have experienced something similar, and they will need you and each other in the coming days and weeks.”
The realization that his friends were feeling the same way sliced through Orion’s self pity. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes before looking up at The Creator.
“What do you mean?” Orion’s voice was hoarse. “Everyone in this world experienced the same thing?”
“Not the exact same thing, no. There are varying levels of tragedy, but your stories are, one and all, tragic. After all, one requirement of my contract allowing me to collect you all here was that in your previous world, you had to have taken your own life.”
The words drove a spike of ice into Orion’s spine, and it left him speechless. They had all taken their own lives? But there were thousands of them. His friends… even the annoyingly joyful Honeypot? Now that he remembered Mira, the cheeky Priest’s infectious joy and never-ending playfulness reminded him of his sister… even he had taken his own life?
“Every single one of you—including your friends—has experienced situations so painful that they escaped,” the Creator said, seemingly able to read Orion’s mind. “I expect it will take some time to come to terms with this, and perhaps you never truly will. Still, this was necessary to save this world and your lives. I am limited in what actions I can take in order to interfere with this world. If Valbrand gets overrun by the monsters of every other gate, this town, world, and eventually your lives will all be forfeit to the monster horde.”
“So this was, what, a mercy?”
“Yes. If the rest of this floor played out with things as they were, all of you would have undoubtedly died. I hope you know there was no malice intended by returning these memories to you all, and I tell you one final time—I was left absent choice.”
Orion stared into space for a long time before he spoke.
“What do we do now, then? Where do I go from here?”
“There is a portal behind you that will lead you back to your friends when you are ready. I have created a bubble that will give you forty-eight hours of safety within the Queen of the Forest’s clearing. Time will be frozen there, so no monsters will attack. Use the time to talk, heal, or train—I leave it up to you to decide. I know it will take time to recover, but I strongly suggest that you make it back to Valbrand within five days.”
With that, the Creator took his leave. He left Orion alone in the space between worlds, the only company his thoughts and regrets. He took a few minutes to compose himself before he got to his feet.
Finding the portal behind him, he stepped through.