I'd forgotten about the possibilities of inaccuracies until I began to step back through the door which got me here. Which is how I think I got a glimpse of possibilities.

Flash

I'm on the edge of a tall building. Said building appears to be on a half-moon of an island. A thunderous cry of "Justice" is uttered from all around, from a vast count of people in uniforms unfamiliar, but clearly of some maritime military tradition. A nearby platform holds some few figures. An execution platform I think. Sirens sound and all eyes crane around, seemingly or perhaps thankfully ignoring me, to the sea beyond the inner crescent. A mass of galleons and similar sailing vessels stand there, skulls and crossbones being wildly evident.

Flash

I am in a desert canyon. Two vehicles which can only be described as ‘mechs’ strike at each other. There is no clear winner, but it is obvious that the skill of one far outstrips the other. And yet, I can’t help but sense that the lesser skilled will win. As if this is not a contest of mechs or even of skill, but rather of will.

Flash

I am in the cockpit of some spaceship. How I discern this so immediately? I am sitting at the control console and looking out into a field of stars. There are others around me, but they pay me no notice. They have no uniforms, this being some manner of motley crew. A tall man, dressed mostly in brown and having shaggy hair and a devil-may-care attitude that he wears utterly, walks in. He is the captain. He leans down to look out the forward field of stars.

Flash

I am in the cockpit of a different ship. This one is very clearly headed towards a space station that I can only describe as massive. A star that is clearly not Sol boils in the background. There are many other ships around, but none close enough for me to judge them.

Flash

I am standing in a grand office, the likes of which could perhaps be described as ornate, but doing so would do it a disservice. The office was far more than that. It gleamed and shone and yet, it all seemed to pale in comparison to the center of the office.

The woman who was there seemed to be all at once more powerful and ornate than this office. Just standing there, I could hear majestic violins being in her presence. She wasn’t a model, nor was she unremarkable. Her dark skin seemed a contrast for the black furry hat and similar matching coat, as odd as that sounds perhaps. At her waist, a sword hangs. Her face is calm and her demeanor regal.

If for no other reason than I can feel it, she seems to see me.

“Go, traveler, and know you have visited where few have come unbidden,” her strong voice reaches me.

Flash

I am standing on the edge of a field of battle. The distinction may seem inane or inaccurate, but there were at least no weapons in my immediate vicinity, so I’ll make that distinction all the same.

The weapons seem a mix of thunderous railguns, judging by the lack of fire and smoke, and compressed lasers, the long beams of which flicker across the battlefield in moments before winking out.

It’s chaos and I cannot hope to be away from here fast enough and yet, I know there is something more.

A rumbling I hadn’t noticed getting louder is now louder still. I try and determine the direction and look all around. It takes me only a few moments to discover the source.

A tank. Or some semblance of one. The vehicle rumbling in the direction of this battlefield is perhaps a tank only to my mind because it has tracks and at least one turret. No, this monstrosity carried three turrets and the tracks were big enough to crush an F150 and not notice it.

It put me in mind of some sci-fi future gone wrong. Or perhaps gone right, for now at least.

It stopped moving and sat there for a long moment, the compressed laser no longer firing and the thunderous railguns silent if only for this moment. The only sound across the whole of the battlefield which reached me was the rumble of this tank, which could have been an immodest shopping complex.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Flash

I’m… I’m standing in the corner at the local medical. This at least seems familiar. The doctor who gave me my scan isn’t there, but the one who is there carries the same air about them. The room is covered in paperwork, the exact purpose of which isn’t obvious since this isn’t the scanning room, which was covered instead of runes.

It’s then I notice the bed and its occupant. Lucy. Perhaps a bit older now, but she’s there.

She’s sweating heavily, something I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do. She look far more human than ever before.

She’s holding… she’s holding my hand and groaning.

I look at myself.

I’m not measurably older, but I don’t appear to notice myself. Hold on a second… The not measurably older me that is holding Lucy’s hand doesn’t appear to even glance in my direction, focusing instead on Lucy.

The doctor is positioned in such a way, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what’s happening.

“One more push,” I hear the doctor command.

A groaning, choked grunt from Lucy takes over the room for a long moment.

I strain to see if I can see (although questioning if I want to see) and hear, but as I move even a little, the world dissolves away.

Flash

I see Rennet bargaining with the djinn we/I rescued. Except, we’re not in Rennet’s shop. We’re in the Prism. And she’s very clearly not the free djinn but rather the Guardian.

Rennet seems to be pleading with her. It’s impossible to tell what’s happening though, the sounds being damped from my vantage point within the Escher-esque surroundings.

I look long at Rennet. He is harried, his robes mildly scorched, and looking hunted, but refusing to remove his eyes from the Guardian. She seems utterly implacable, a mountain in the face of a mild rain storm.

Rennet appears to try one further gambit of logic. I can only guess at what he is attempting, but he raises a hand, tentatively, to draw a rune of glowing essentia in the air.

The Guardian’s action is immediate and swift. Rennet is thrown back by a wave of force that is near impossible to even sense, but somehow I know it is there. Cast to the ground or what passes for ground in this Prism, Rennet struggles to get up, but can’t. A great force seems to be pressing on him.

Even with the acoustic damping I can hear him scream.

I want to look away, I need to look away, but… but I can’t.

Rennet’s feet appear to slowly being crushed and dissolved. There’s blood, but only a little and this too dissolves after a few moments.

I’d say that I’m surprised at Rennet’s screams ending, but he does run out of breath like the rest of us. And for just a moment, I wonder if that’s the whole of the penalty for his attempt.

It isn’t.

Rennet’s screams are renewed and I see his body seem to crush inward, as though forced into the fetal position involuntarily, the robes being compressed to his thin form.

I want to help.

I try to move and the world dissolves once more, Rennet’s screams still filling my ears.

Flash

I’m standing in Warren’s apartment. Warren is standing there looking at me. He is… older. Much older.

“It is good to have seen you again, old friend,” he murmurs.

I want to say something, but I can’t.

“Go now, lest this have never been,” he says.

All I can do is nod and the world dissolves.

Flash

I’m back at the counter with the attendant who isn’t the same at each glance.

“What was that?” I asked reflexively.

“Possibilities. Some of what will, has, won’t, and always be,” the attendant said, a semi-blank look on their aged face.

“Can I go back to where and when I was?” I ask.

“I/we are attempting to do so. For some reason, it is… problematic to do so. The possibilities and the potential for inaccuracies,” the attendant replied, their voice a sing-song. “All timelines, all space. All things. So much to account for and your own time and space a merest fraction of all.”

Some echo of Rennet’s screams still hung in my ears.

I try and move. I manage to do so without the world around me dissolving.

I look for the door, find it and try to go through it again, if only to try and get away from this… place.

Flash

I watch from the beach as an asteroid falls. The planet is going to die. I feel as though I know this and I am merely witness to these events.

The dull roar of the asteroid in the atmosphere is obvious and yet it vanishes. I do not hear, nor see the impact, but I know it to have happened.

The ocean begins to retreat. Slowly at first, but faster and faster, revealing vast masses of sealife, rocks, and even small bits of wrecked boats, long since forgotten even this short distance to the beach where I stand.

What is becoming is no mere tsunami. It is an end.

I shift my weight and the world dissolves once more.

Flash

I hear voices.

“Why is there a glamour here?” I hear myself ask.

There’s a murmur of voices, all of which sound familiar.

I look around, I’m within the Council chambers, albeit on the far side of the crowd. Seemingly unnoticeable. I stay silent.

I see myself walk halfway through the rock wall glamour.

“Our business will wait. Find out where this door leads first,” the wizardly principal states in that same dull tone of voice that I remember from before.

And I watch myself disappear into the rockface, carrying my bag.

I decided to take this moment to cough.

Every person turns around and looks at me.

“Well, that was something,” I say.

“Is that all the further it goes?” the wizardly principal asked.

“Not exactly, but I’ll need a few minutes to try and describe what just happened,” I admitted, and tried moving.

No dissolving, no flash. I think I’m back now.

I walk towards the rock wall where the glamour is.

I reach forward and find only hard rock.

“It’s gone,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.

“What is?” the vampire prompts.

“Possiblities,” is the only answer I can give after a moment, the glimpses of Lucy and Warren heavy in my mind. “Just… possibilities.”

It wouldn’t be answer enough for long, but it was all that I had in the now.