She woke up in a haze. A head pounding and dizzy, she didn’t recognize what she was looking at. She lifted her head in a snap movement trying to gauge her surroundings, but they were a blur. The ringing in her ears didn’t help either.
Not knowing where she is, or what is going on, she simply feels panic.
Panic is not good, her face becomes pale white.
Her eyes go wide and glossy as she looks around hoping to find some area where the world isn’t so blurry, a corner of logic in a world of blur.
She realizes she is sitting not standing, looking down she sees a desk of a number of objects, yellow, white and black splayed all over. She looks at the desk she is sitting, squinting trying to make out any form of detail, to figure anything out.
What is going on?
Breathing in deep she tries to calm down. Control herself, calm herself, can’t let this happen again. Not again. She almost has control this time. Looking up she sees three figures looking at her, she thinks, they are all still blurry.
She stands, knocking the desk away and sending her chair in a racket to the ground, she winces at the noise of it, and almost cowers.
Too much sound and color.
Warbled speech makes it to her ear, like someone is speaking underwater. One of the three figures reaches out a tentative hand and puts it on her shoulder. Looking first at the hand, she refocuses attention to the figure. And the blur dissipates, and a face can be made out. An old grandmotherly face with wrinkles of age, but also worry, etched on. She looks at the woman.
“Angie” She says, a layer of deep concern in her voice. and fear? She sounds afraid.
“Angie” . . . “Are you okay, Angie”
The woman hears just enough, she tries and nods but cant really manage that. Soon she shakes her head, no she is not okay.
A reassuring pat on her back and the grandmother figures gives orders to the two other figures. They scurry off, running around collecting items before returning to the grandmother in charge. She bends down and picks up Angie’s chair and places it behind the woman..
She takes the items, places them on the desk and puts a cool hand on Angie’s head.
Angie nods away to sleep, falling back to her seat, head on her desk.
Angie falls asleep fast enough, though the old figure kept her hand on her head for a bit more time. Before retracting and thinking to herself.
The figure looks up at the two woman, her workers, Angie’s friends and work companions.
Martha, the youngest of the group, a young woman of not even 20 years of age. She has her eyes like saucers looking at Angie with deep concern and worry. Blond locks and a face covered in sweat she wipes away, as she takes in long and labored breathing. Almost like she has to remind herself to breath with what just happened.
Jane, a shorter black haired figure and companion to Martha is just 21, but she is more regal in her bearing. A back straight and her lips pursed in what others would see as a sneer, her friends know she does that when thinking deeply, lost in her though.
The two of them stand looking at their collapsed companion, their friend, laying at her desk sleeping like a lackadaisy kid at school.
Gran, the owner of this establishment, looks at the two of them.
“Martha, dear, would you turn away any customers please. And Jane, please help me make little Ann here more comfortable.”
Both the woman nod, and are quick in the directions, eager for something to do. Keeping busy after something unusual, is always useful.
Keeps the mind from thinking.
The unusual thing? that Angie did? well she spoke. Though not in Azdarian, or any other language known to this world. She spoke in my tongue.
She babbled on and on, in my mind at least. though to her friends it may have just been a few scant seconds, she did speak.
Ah yes my mind. Referencing Me.
A name I do have, but Angie doesn’t know it, though she does know of me. But why, or who, or in truth what, I am, still eludes her. And It may always.
I am, as I hope you will understand her Companion. Her watcher, her ghost, the very soul of Angie. Complete and realized. Unlike her fellows here in a rundown book shop rand by a woman more ancient than time. No they aren’t complete souls.
Am I Angie’s soul? No, I am my own being, but I am connected to her. She may see me as a parasite, I see her as the parasite. She sees me as the unwanted companion, I see her as unwanted.
We make each other stronger, however. And strength is something I will need. Sooner rather than later.
You on the other hand, she does not know about. I am the first companion; you are the second. The second watcher, the second set of eyes.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
She does not and will never know about you.
Some hours later Angie does eventually wake up, groggy and tired. The blurriness is not the harsh haze from earlier. Now it is just sleepy tired eyes.
At the edge of her bed on a small table is a small lantern. Small globs of blue magical light, disappearing and reappearing in the container, frost on the glass makes the light fracture out sending out odd beams of light.
Hel-light, makes light and cold, useful to never start fires.
Angie shakes herself and gets up, her clothes small, fevered and sweaty, like she ran a marathon in them, then immediately went to bed.
She walks over, grabs a cloth off the table and wipes down the lantern, cleaning the frost allowing the room to glow in a fuzzy blue light.
Reaching over she notices some clothes were prepared for her, someone put out some comfortable house clothes after taking her to her apartment.
Putting them on she walked over to a desk with a mirror for make-up, lighting a second smaller Hel-light this one with yellow tinted glass, giving a warmer look to the room.
Angie puts her hands palm down on the desk and breathes deeply for 10 seconds. A sort of personal meditation.
Before reaching over and grabbing a small leather journal with a clasp and buckle of brass.
She takes out a small pen and opens the journal.
Much of the journal is normal. To do lists. Odd inspiring quotes, lofty ideas and funny stories.
Nearing the middle of the journal she finds her new pages. There she sees her previous entries written in a language no one knows, and one she was never taught.
Of course, she doesn’t know the language. It is my language. But she does understand it. Speaking it may be beyond her still, but not for long. Some people should be aware of her now. And coming to investigate.
She will kill them, of that I am sure.
So no I’m not worried.
“Why, are you doing this” Angie says aloud in the room. She can think in her head, and I will hear her, but she apparently doesn’t like that. But when I respond no one else can hear my voice.
“Because, I must” I say. Angie’s head turns the smallest degree to the right.
She sees and hears me a figure always at the edge of her vison. Why? Honestly, I am not sure. But to her a figure, male I believe, in a male voice is what she sees me as. Well, enough I suppose. I can make do with that image for myself.
“Just, please,” Angie says before heaving out a tired sigh.
“I can’t keep this up forever, just go, leave. I can’t keep collapsing like that” She says, a slight tremor to her voice.
Yes, I do agree, her collapsing every 100th time I interact with her is bad for both of us.
“I wish it didn’t happen like that, but you need to use more energy, A body can’t hold the energy of two occupants correctly if the energy is not used” I say.
“You gave me magic I never wanted!” She shouts before clicking her tongue.
“I can’t go outside and burn down another tree, every time I am given energy” She says.
I now understand the phrase you all use of leading a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. She won’t use the power I offer her for anything, I believe she still thinks I’m a devil, or demon, or something.
“It does not matter where or for what you use the power, just use it. You are the dam to the river, Either the dam will break, or you will let water pass through.” I say.
She tilts her head and slowly closes her eyes, thinking.
“One is less destructive than the other” I say.
In truth I do need her power to do something, I need her trained in a specific way. But honestly for right now trying to get her to use the power will be considered a win.
Besides, the people I mentioned should take notice of her energy. They should have picked up on the blip we made burning down the tree. Her using a bit more should get their attention. And then she will be forced to use my gifts.
“Why me” She laments, head falling into her arms on the desk. Her hair getting messy in some of the ink she was writing with.
She is writing our conversations, in my tongue. Trying to figure out the language I figure.
Despite all her reluctance she is smart.
“It is night, and you have just woken up, you still have the energy, no fever can burn enough of it.”
“Go and spend some and you will get a quiet rest, of that I can assure you.” I say, trying to get her to do anything.
“Go out and do what, huh, burn down every tree I see” She remarks. Moving her hand to her right in mocker explosion.
“Not exactly but do something I promise it won’t be as destructive as last time” I say.
Damn, she is really mad about the tree incident.
She huffs but stands up and grabs her journal, walking to her door she grabs a heavier jacket and walks out.
Angry but calm sleep is enticing enough to get her out.
Azdar, the jewel of the world. And the stain of trash on the bottom of its boot. Never has a place had to extremes located in such proximity.
Walking the cobbled streets, Hel-lights provide a brilliant glow to the city. Out in the distance on the hills lies the Emperor’s palace. Above it is one giant Hel-light with others orbiting it, like the Emperor has his own personal solar system above his house.
Here in the southern side of the city Angie walks at a fast pace. Not really paying attention to where she is going just burning energy as she is walking. Not the correct kind of energy.
Though I suppose.
“Would you like to use the power with walking” I say.
She slows down with a head tilt, begins to whisper to me before shaking her head and speaking to me in her mind.
“What do you mean” She says with a harsh tone.
“I can help you walk faster; you are going in no direction and this will expand the energy” I offer.
“Fine” she says shortly.
So much effort to get her to use any energy whatsoever.
She lowers her head and continues her walk. I feed energy into her footsteps and she takes notice. To us it looks like her feet have small sparkles of purple and leave behind dusty purple footprints that fade after a few seconds.
She keeps her pace up continues walking. Soon, the surrounding buildings become a blur as her pace continues. My magic and power enhance her. To her she is walking at fast pace.
To others a blur faster than any horse or mage could manage flew past. She walks her trail and a smile begins to creep upon her face.
The smile of action. Of doing something.
The smile of a woman losing her mind.
Now that I can work with.
The alert went off quickly, I can sense the figures.
Angie has stopped her walk, the purple footprints and dust evaporating. She is somewhat sweaty and wipes it of her brew and blow out some air.
She tilts her head. Realizes she isn’t as sweaty as she should be. She walked miles in minutes and should be sweating a lot more. And be very tired. She should be exhausted.
She takes a minute and thinks to herself. Sometimes with a cooky grin. Enjoying the power she just used. The feeling of it. The energy.
As she thinks to herself, I stay quiet, my focus elsewhere.
Better to let her think about the power, any comment from me would lead her to think I need her to use the power. I do, but I would much rather have a willing parasite.
More useful that way.
As Angie stands in the darkened street nodding to herself, the Hel-lights dim slightly, she doesn’t notice.
At the edge of vision more than a hundred feet away two figures in black uniforms, wooden masks with vertical eye slits, not wide enough for any person to actually see through begin walking toward Angie.
Ah, the dead men walking.
I have no face, but even I can feel my grin.