image [https://i.imgur.com/PJIA4yg.jpeg]
“Though our hands molded creation, man, ever defiant, has chosen to rebel against us with the help of that cursed god.”
JOEL’S APARTMENT, SPOKANE WA.
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Amidst the wreckage of what was once his apartment, Joel crouched among jagged shards of glass and fragments of crumbled drywall. The air, thick with dust and carrying the faint scent of smoke, clung to him. The warmth of Jamie beside him kept him grounded, a comfort against the cold and gnawing uncertainty. Together, they clung to the devastation—both physical and emotional—struggling to grasp the magnitude of what they had unleashed into the world.
The storm, born from this place, now stretched ominously across the sky, an angry swirl of clouds. Yet, the immediate area around them was eerily calm. Silence hung thick in the air, like the eye of a storm. Joel's heartbeat thundered in his ears, the internal chaos warring within him as he struggled to reconcile the truth that had shattered his reality
The system’s voice still echoed in his mind, gentle yet inescapable: Inheritor recognized… Runes unlocked. A god—an actual deity—had spoken to him, reshaping his entire understanding of the world.
I should feel insane right now, he thought, but the evidence is right here. The destruction surrounding them, the strange energy surging through his veins, was all too real. Jamie, quiet and tense, sat beside him, reassuring him that this was no hallucination. What they had experienced was real—more real than anything they had ever imagined.
A strange hum coursed through him, ancient and alien, yet somehow, at the same time, it was a part of who he was… who he had always been. He flexed his fingers, feeling the strange warmth and crackling energy beneath his skin.
I can embrace this… or let it break me. The thought sliced through him. Run, or face it head-on? Well, damn. He exhaled slowly, stirring the dust that lingered around him. Running isn’t an option.
For the first time in ten years, the fear he had felt that night in the desert made sense. The overwhelming terror—that glimpse of something far greater—was no longer a shadow in his memory. It was real. And it had returned.
The energy within him surged, electrifying, dizzying. He felt more alive than he had since that night, every nerve attuned to the faint creaking of wood and the distant scent of rain. His mind spun, trying to make sense of the new reality crashing in around them.
Beside him, Jamie’s grip tightened. A flicker of something new glimmered in her eyes—an ember sparking to life. She offered a weak smile, her lips trembling.
“What… what the hell was that?” Her voice barely carried the weight of her uncertainty.
Relief, strange and unbidden, bubbled up, and a laugh escaped him. She was safe. Unharmed. That was enough for now. But beneath her calm words, he felt the fear matching his own.
Pulling her closer, he tightened his arms around her. “I don’t know,” he admitted, though the words felt hollow. “But that figure, that storm… It’s the same thing I felt in the desert, when I nearly died.”
He paused, words catching in his throat. “I think… we just unleashed something supernatural into the world.”
Joel attempted a small smile, though whether it was for her or himself, he wasn’t sure. Then, a thought occurred to him. “Did you hear a voice too? Something about a system?”
Her body stiffened, eyes widening. “Yes—but… how?” she stammered, her confusion raw. “I don’t even know what to think right now.”
She stood slowly, her legs wobbling slightly as the ground beneath them shifted. Her gaze swept across the destruction—Joel’s apartment, their lives—forever altered. The wind whispered through the cracks in the walls, carrying a scent of something ancient, something wild.
As she began to pace, her hands clenched and unclenched, the motion almost involuntary. Suddenly, without warning, sparks flickered to life in her palms—an orange-red glow casting shadows over the debris.
Joel’s breath hitched. “Well… that’s new,” he muttered, gesturing toward her hands as they ignited fully, glowing in the dim moonlight.
Her wide-eyes locked onto the flames licking at her skin. “I’m—I’m on fire!” Her voice cracked, panic lacing her words as she waved her hands frantically, trying to smother the flames on her dress.
But as Joel looked more closely he saw something—her skin remained unscorched, no blisters, no burns. The fire danced harmlessly. Slowly, he rose and approached, unsure how to calm her.
If her skin isn’t burning, and her clothes are fine…
Without hesitation, he reached for her hands. The heat radiating from the flames was intense, but it didn’t burn. It felt more like standing too close to a firepit—overwhelming, yet not harmful.
Her wide eyes locked onto his. “Stop! You’ll burn yourself!” she cried, trying to pull away.
He held firm, raising his hand to show her he was okay. “No, I won’t. This has something to do with the power you’ve been given.”
Her breathing steadied as she examined her hand. The panic that had gripped her only moments before began to ebb, replaced by subtle curiosity. A soft laugh escaped her, surprising them both.
“What’s so funny?”
She waved her hand playfully, the fire flickering wildly as she did. “What else could you call this, except… magic?”
Laughter surged through him as well, filling the wrecked space with a strange lightness. “Definitely magic.” The tension between them broke, the oppressive dread that had suffocated them for so long now easing, if only slightly. Though the air still carried a faint scent of ozone, the sharp edge of danger had dulled.
As the last traces of her laughter faded, Jamie stared down at her glowing hands, a deep frown forming. "But if this is fire, why didn’t it burn you?" Her voice was thick with disbelief, the wonder in her tone unable to mask her confusion.
Joel shifted slightly, causing rubble to shift beneath him, and shrugged as if the answer eluded him too. Something about the moment felt strangely familiar, as though it echoed memories of fantasy games or stories. "I don’t know," he murmured, more to himself than her. "Maybe it’s about intent. Maybe the fire only burns if you want it to?"
The idea took root in his mind, connecting like fragments of fiction piecing together. It reminded him of spells in role-playing games—where you could control the damage based on intent. Could it really be that simple?
Spotting a piece of wood buried beneath the debris, he reached for it, brushing his fingers over the splintered surface. It felt reassuring, solid in a world turned upside down. "Here," he said, holding the chunk out. "Touch this."
She hesitated, then reached out slowly, her fingertips brushing the wood’s surface. Nothing happened. She frowned, frustration edging into her voice. "It’s just wood. Why isn’t it catching fire?"
Excitement stirred in him, but he kept his tone even. "Okay," he said softly, "now think about it burning."
Her brows furrowed in concentration. Within a single heartbeat, the piece of wood ignited, the flames crackling with an intensity that made the dry timber glow as though drenched in gasoline. Shadows danced wildly around them as the fire blazed. Her frustration melted into awe, a grin spreading across her face.
"Whoa… this is incredible!" Her voice carried a mix of disbelief and wonder as she marveled at the flames curling around the wood.
She twirled the burning piece in the air like a wand, and the temperature spiked. Sweat formed on Joel’s brow as the heat pressed down on them, the air growing thick, stifling like a bonfire that had flared too hot.
Just as he opened his mouth to congratulate her on a job well done, a faint cry pierced the crackling flames and rustling debris. The sound was soft but unmistakable. His heart clenched. Kip.
In a heartbeat, the lightness of the moment shattered, replaced by cold panic. His body reacted on instinct, legs propelling him toward the noise. “Hang on, little bud, I’ve got you!” His voice cracked with urgency as he dropped to his knees, hands frantically digging through the rubble. The sharp edges of wood and drywall scraped against his skin, but he barely felt it, his focus narrowing to that desperate sound.
Jamie fell to her knees beside him, her face pale, fear etched into her features. “We’ll get you out!” Her voice shook as she pulled at the debris with trembling hands to help Joel find where Kip had been buried. Her eyes welling with tears, each second stretching on as Kip’s cries grew more frantic.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, a tiny tuft of fur emerged from the wreckage, followed by a small ear. Joel’s breath caught. There you are. Renewed determination fueled his movements as they freed Kip from the debris.
The young cat’s tiny body trembled violently, its fur matted with dust. Its pitiful meows pierced the night. He scooped Kip into his arms, cradling the fragile creature against his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve got you.”
Kneeling next to him, Jamie’s hands hovered near Kip, the faint glow of her fire casting warmth over the shivering kitten. The heat seeped through the cold air, soothing Kip’s trembling. Gradually, the kitten relaxed, nestling deeper into Joel’s arms.
A soft purr vibrated against his chest, and with it came a wave of relief. He exhaled shakily, releasing the tension from his body. For what felt like an eternity, they sat together—three figures huddled amidst the ruins, sharing a brief moment of peace. Outside, the world remained chaotic, but within this fragile circle of warmth, they found calm.
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The creak of a door broke through the silence, snapping Joel’s attention away from the quiet moment they had been sharing together. Mrs. Thompson stepped out, her silver hair catching the dim glow of moonlight. Usually so composed, her face was now etched with concern, the lines deeper than he'd ever seen. She clutched her sweater close, the breeze tugging at the fabric as it rippled in the cold night air.
"Are you two okay?" Her voice trembled, the weight of her worry almost too much for it to carry.
The words hung in the air like the dust that still clung to everything around them. Before he could respond, Mr. Patel appeared beside her, holding his phone up to cast light on the area surrounding them. His checkered pajama pants and slippers seemed out of place amidst the destruction. His face, though, was a picture of confusion and unease.
"I've never seen anything like this," Mr. Patel muttered, squinting at the wreckage around them as if searching for answers in the glow of his phone’s light.
A wave of relief washed over Joel as he watched his neighbors file out of their apartments. The concern he'd been holding onto dissolved when he saw they were unharmed, their buildings battered but still intact despite the catastrophic damage to his own. Jamie let out an audible gasp as she too realized that everyone was alright, no one had been harmed in the event they had just struggled to survive through.
More neighbors emerged from their apartments, drawn by the commotion. Tara, her hands trembling around a half-filled coffee cup, stood with Michael. His usual bright optimism had dimmed, replaced by an uneasiness he couldn’t mask. Every face mirrored the same question—What happened?
Mrs. Thompson’s voice, now sharper, sliced through the silence. "The whole building shook—like an earthquake or a tornado hit it. I couldn't see anything outside, only wind, dust and debris."
"The lights flickered," Mr. Patel added, anxiety creeping into his voice. "Then there was this… explosion that rocked the building. Joel, what’s going on?"
The barrage of questions hit him all at once, swirling around him just like the storm had. His palms, gritty with debris, tightened around the trembling kitten in his arms. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the words.
"We’re… okay. Honestly, I’m not sure how to even begin explaining," he muttered, knowing the explanation was far more complicated than the simple response.
Beside him, Jamie flexed her fingers, disbelief still clear in her wide eyes. The flames that had danced there just moments ago were now gone, snuffed out as if they had never existed. She met his gaze, both of them silently asking the same question—How do we explain this?
Mrs. Thompson stepped closer, her brow furrowing even deeper. "Explain what? The storm? The shaking? I thought the whole building was about to collapse. Joel, you've always been a good neighbor, but I need answers. Now."
He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the layer of grime that clung to his skin. Anxiety gnawed at his gut, twisting with every second that passed. How can I explain something so unbelievable? Clearing his throat, he forced the question out.
"Did… any of you hear a voice?"
The air seemed to thicken with confusion as the neighbors exchanged puzzled looks. Mrs. Thompson blinked, her grip loosening slightly on her sweater. "A voice?"
"No," Mr. Patel said, crossing his arms. "I heard the explosion, the wind, felt the tremors, but no voice."
Tara chimed in, her voice soft but full of uncertainty. "We didn’t hear anything… Just that weird noise, like a hurricane outside. We just hid in the bedroom, worried that the whole building would come down on us from whatever was happening outside."
Mrs. Thompson’s concern deepened. "Are you sure you’re alright?"
The weight of her worry pressed down on him, adding to the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He glanced at Jamie, and their eyes met, realization dawning in both of them. So, they didn’t hear it… Only we did.
The realization hit him hard, scattering his thoughts into a thousand more questions. Why only us? He replayed the moment in his mind—the strange sensation of something reaching inside him, searching his soul before the system had activated. Could it be selective? Was it choosing certain people?
As he flexed his fingers, half-expecting to feel the rush of energy again, Mrs. Thompson gasped, her eyes widening as she pointed at him.
"Your arms…"
He followed her gaze, his breath catching in his throat. Glowing symbols, faint but unmistakable, appeared on his skin, shimmering softly in time with his heartbeat. The runes flickered in the dim light, casting a soft glow over the rubble. Fuck.
"What… is that?" Michael’s voice wavered, caught between awe and fear as he took a step back.
The runes pulsed brighter, feeding off the storm of emotions swirling inside Joel. His heart thudded in his chest, each beat sending a surge of energy to his limbs, leaving his throat dry as the reality of it all finally sank in. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his mouth like shards of glass.
What the hell do I even say?
He floundered, desperate for something to explain the impossible. "Well—it’s—" His voice faltered, words slipping away like sand through his fingers.
Sensing his struggle, Jamie stepped in. Her hands raised, palms open to the gathering crowd, as if to calm the rising tension. “It’s okay, it’s nothing bad,” she reassured, her tone the same cool, assertive voice she’d used countless times at the bar when she had to take control of rowdy drunks. Calm. Steady.
Her eyes flickered toward him, searching for his support as she continued, “It’s hard to explain, so maybe—” she paused again, then asked, “Maybe it’s better if we show you. Joel, can you please?”
He froze. His pulse quickened as his mind raced to catch up with what she was asking. How does this work?
“I— I don’t know," he stammered, the weight of all eyes on him pressing down. His hands flexed, energy humming beneath his skin, but he had no idea how to release it. "But I can try.”
With a deep breath, he tried to focus, zeroing in on the runes. They glimmered faintly on his arms, their ancient script coiling and twisting like living things. Familiar... yet so alien, he thought, eyes narrowing as the symbols danced in his vision. They thrummed with power, vibrating under his skin, eager to be unleashed. But how?
Seconds passed, stretching into what felt like an eternity. The energy pulsed inside him, so strong it almost vibrated in his bones. Okay, activate, he commanded silently. On. Go! Ignite! Start!
Nothing.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, and he heard a nervous chuckle escape his lips. Mrs. Thompson and the others stared, their curiosity laced with growing unease. Damn it. What am I missing? His gaze shifted to Jamie, her expression unreadable, but her concern was clear. She was waiting for him, for something—anything—to happen.
Not a command, huh? Then maybe… it’s like before. When I broke the seal, he mused, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. Maybe I need to breathe life into them, speak them into being...
It was a wild thought, but it resonated, deep in his core. He could feel it—something stirring in his chest, thrumming like a heartbeat. There’s truth in this. I know it.
Drawing in another breath, he focused on the runes, their intricate patterns swimming before his eyes. When he spoke, the words came from a place beyond understanding, slipping from his mouth as though they had always been there, waiting.
“Zi... an.” Light and Space
The syllables vibrated on his tongue, electric, like static building before a storm. As the words left him, the sensation rippled out from his throat, filling the air with a crackling charge. The space around him buzzed, and then—light.
A flash. Blinding. The night seemed to tear apart, pierced by a radiant, white glow. Energy, once caged within him, surged outward like a tidal wave, transforming the darkness into an almost blinding daylight.
image [https://i.imgur.com/Vyigo4f.png]
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As the light lit up the night, Joel’s senses sharpened, overwhelmed by the strangeness of the world beyond the wrecked apartment. The wind picked up, carrying with it the rich scent of wet earth, mingling with the decaying sweetness of fallen leaves and the sharpness of pine needles. It smells like the forest after a storm, he thought, the air thick with moisture, clinging to his skin. His body felt alive, every nerve buzzing with the pulse of magic now woven into the very fabric of the land.
He looked past the cracked remains of the apartment complex, where once-paved streets had been, they were now overtaken by nature’s relentless advance. Deep fractures split the asphalt, allowing vines to spill through, crawling over the surface like fingers reaching for the sky. Massive ferns sprouted in the spaces where cars had once parked, their broad leaves shimmering with droplets of rain, as if the storm had nurtured their sudden emergence.
Joel inhaled deeply, the fresh, humid air on the wind filling his lungs. His heartbeat synced with the hum of magic in the atmosphere, each pulse of the runes on his skin growing stronger. The towering trees surrounding the complex—oaks and firs that looked like they had existed for millennia—groaned in the wind, their branches twisting above, casting long shadows across what was left of the neighborhood.
He could hear everything now—the rustling of leaves, the creak of old wood, the soft trickle of water flowing through cracks in the pavement. Streams formed where sidewalks had once been, winding their way through the debris, as though nature itself had claimed the modern world and reshaped it into something ancient. It’s like the earth is alive again, he marveled, feeling the surge of energy coursing through him. His senses seemed heightened, every smell and sound amplified by the magic that saturated the air.
Beside him, Jamie hesitated before stepping toward the edge of the complex. Her boots crunched over gravel and bits of glass as she neared a vine curling around the remnants of a streetlamp, its once-painted surface now muted beneath layers of moss. She raised her hand slowly, her fingers trembling as they brushed the slick, cool surface of the vine. “Did we do this?” She whispered, her voice full of awe. The plant responded to her touch, swaying slightly as though acknowledging her presence.
Her words resonated with him. We did. The realization hit him again, heavier this time. They hadn’t just summoned magic—they had unleashed something far more powerful, something that had transformed reality. Spokane was no longer a city—it was a relic, consumed by a force older and wilder than anything they could have imagined.
Mrs. Thompson stood frozen at the edge of the ruined apartment, her eyes wide as she surveyed the towering trees and creeping vines. “It’s like… the forest swallowed the city,” she said, her voice shaking with disbelief. She gripped her sweater tightly, her fingers pale as if holding on to the last remnants of the life she had known.
Mr. Patel dropped his phone, his face ashen as he watched the thick roots that had wound their way through the fractured street where his car had once been. “How did this happen?” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “This can’t be real.”
Joel’s chest tightened, the weight of the magic pressing down on him. It’s real, and it’s our fault. The energy inside him buzzed like an electrical current, in tune with the land around him. He could feel it—every vibration of the earth beneath his feet, every shift of the trees overhead, all connected to the magic coursing through him.
The apartment complex, though mostly intact, looked out of place against the wild backdrop. His own apartment had been destroyed by the storm, yet the surrounding apartments remained oddly untouched. It was as if the magic released from within his home had spared the ground around it, then spread outward, transforming the world as far as they could see. Vines and moss hadn’t touched the walls of his home, but water trickled down its sides, pooling at the edges where cracks had formed. The ground rumbled softly beneath him, a low vibration matching the pulsing energy in his veins. Spokane—at least the city they had known—was gone, replaced by a world that felt both ancient and untamed, as if nature had reclaimed its rightful place.
Jamie turned toward him, her face lit by the soft glow of his runes. “What do we do now?” she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty. She looked to him for answers, but Joel didn’t have any. He could only feel the hum of magic in the air, the land thrumming with life, and the heavy weight of responsibility settling in his chest.
As he wrestled with his thoughts, sirens echoed ominously in the distance—police, fire, or both, he couldn’t be sure. The light he had cast, once brilliant and reassuring, began to fade, leaving the world swallowed by encroaching shadows, lit only by the dim moonlight once again. In the distance, people began to filter out of their homes and businesses, some injured, others wide-eyed as they shined flashlights that briefly flickered across the changed landscape.