II
My eyelids flip open outside of my conscious effort and allow my pupils to gaze upon the clock on my nightstand, reading “6:37AM”, and understanding my exhaustion but definitive inability to drift back to sleep, I force my aching body upright and out of bed, attempting to achieve some semblance of accomplishment within the day. Waves of subtle residual pain ripple throughout my person, as the routinely blurred and colorless hue about my vision slowly starts to fade. The transition from sleep to consciousness and back again has become notably more arduous following my sporadic usage of magic and spellcraft over the past few weeks, although I suppose the same can be said for many aspects of my life in relation to said paradigm shift. As I begin to dress myself, the Thursday morning sun gradually creeps upwards, beginning to pierce through the singular window in my room, and I decide, in spite of my legal obligation of attending school, to skip my academic endeavors for the day. This lackadaisical choice at the forefront of my mind, a relaxing walk through the dull and practically empty downtown streets seems like the perfect activity to begin my day. Optimistically imagining the mundane possibilities that await me in the expansive urban outdoors, my confidence and aspiration are soon thrashed, as I envision my drunk of an Uncle blacked out on the sofa in the living room following my brief trip down the stairs.
The sight of the man tasked with parenting me for the remainder of my upbringing has consistently muddled my thoughts and brought about an inescapable and constant awareness to what life is capable of morphing into when given consciousness. Extremely overweight and drooling from the bottom corner of his mouth, the hindrance to society subsists blankly within his perverted reality, attempting to escape whatever tribulations await him within his elusive state of sobriety. Empty beer cans are scattered about the scene and the entire room reeks of marijuana. To a degree, I understand the inclination towards numbing the body and mind as well as ignoring the arbitrarily complicated problems society thrusts upon all individuals within it; indeed, I believe it is through this connection between myself and the worthless sack of high BAC levels and microwavable dinners before me that such a depressed and defeated state is able to overwhelm my mood. I do not wish to be anything like this man, yet I feel a strong level of sympathy towards his ruined self. The scene quickly grows annoying to the point of aggravation, and I soon find myself out of the front door, repressing memories of my reincarnated family in an attempt to revert my mind to the nearly blissful state from prior this morning.
I continue briskly walking along the sidewalk with thoughts and ideas relentlessly racing through my clouded mind, causing a subtle but painful headache to permeate my skull. A slight gust picks up a pile of dead leaves scattered about the ground, shuttling them towards a new destination for decomposition and reentry to the cycle of life. Cars infrequently drive on the road beside the sidewalk, accelerating at speeds most definitely able to end my life, given the vehicle were to swerve to the right a meter or two. Clouds drift upon the grayish image of the sky reflected into my eyes, forming completely random shapes that I am somehow able to mentally connect to objects, concepts, and people within my personal experiences in spite of their inherent lack of similarity. A squirrel rapidly scurries across the ground beside my comparably slow moving person, carrying an insignificant bundle of acorns and other nuts in preparation for an attempt at survival during the approaching winter. Nature exists around human creation. The planet and its nonhuman inhabitants care not for the achievements of man. The only factors driving the innovation of humanity forward are the constant societal pressures and normalities established by dead humans for live ones. The purpose of subsistence within this vapid construct is merely what an individual chooses it to be, nothing more and nothing less.
“Well, if you’re gonna go off on a tangent involving societally introspective inquisition, then first, you have to clearly define what it is you mean by the term ‘purpose’,” an easily identifiable and poignantly curious voice echoes in my mind.
“You know, people usually, at the very least, show themselves before they interject into a string of thoughts,” I quickly reply.
“Is that so?? And just how many people do you know that can interject into your thoughts?” The silver haired mage inquires pompously, appearing before me in an instant with her silver hair held in a bun above the light blue blouse adorned atop her palely thin shoulders.
“Let’s see now…” I rhetorically begin, sarcastically attempting to derive a list of people who fit her provided description. “Nope, just the single hubristic witch.”
“WITCH???” The mage exclaims in a genuinely offended tone, smacking the side of my head due to supposed embarrassment by my choice of insult.
“OW? What’s your trauma with the word ‘witch’?” I question the physical assault to my skull following her sudden exclamation.
“You can be such a brute sometimes,” Nidaba slyly remarks, clearly unwilling to provide clarification.
“A term is a term. It only possesses the power you grant it,” I retort her ambiguous implication.
“Is that how you view the use of language in interpersonal dynamics?” The woman chimes in an entirely different voice, hurriedly side-stepping forward in a roundabout manner to face me directly with her gray eyes shimmering in the morning sunlight. “Can people other than yourself not implant a certain connotation to said terms through conversation? Or are you, the oh so powerfully omniscient Maximilian, the only living being capable of formulating newfound connotations for labels to ideas?”
“You’re putting words in my mouth. I simply mean that whatever happened in your past that has caused you to dislike being called ‘a witch’ has nothing to do with my mental decision to speak said term.”
“Hmmm?? It’s cute when you try to sound smart, sooo I’ll let it slide,” Nidaba speaks through an almost inquisitive smile. “Anyhoo, where’re we headed?”
“I’m going for a walk. You probably have somewhere to be soon,” I offhandedly tease the frequency of the mage’s abrupt departures.
“Oh goodie!!” The woman sarcastically exclaims once I finish speaking. “You’re not in the middle of anything important, and you’re in your usually amicable mood, so you can definitely help me with this tiny little thing I have to take care of, right?” She shifts her tone while speaking but implores sincerely, turning to look me in the eyes with a bright smile.
Nidaba stands in the uncrowded and mundane streets of the urban area I have subsisted within for my entire life but with reason unbeknownst to myself, is able to holistically entrance my reality about her singular person utilizing a few arbitrary strings of vocalized syllables and an unspecific but consistently captivating facial expression. The words she speaks fall off of her lips, like she is cognizant of the specific ideas and phrases that cause me to lower my guard and truly relax in a social environment. Her curious gray eyes glimmer transcendentally, as if they fully encompassed the morning sunlight emanating from innumerable kilometers behind me. Her argent hair held in a messy bun sways in the wind, subtly beginning to fall apart due to the weak, eastbound gust from the change in pressure of the various gases about us, as she stands confidently before me with her hands held behind her back. These descriptive thoughts flood my mind with Nidaba before me, and the existential dread from earlier slowly drifts towards the back of my mind.
“Of course I’ll help you, Nidaba.”
“You’re the best, Maxie,” she exhibits a jovial smile in my direction. “So really, this tiny little thing might be a legitimate ordeal of the unsafe variety,” the mage continues to provide unclear exposition, while rotating one-hundred and eighty degrees.
“I figured as much. What do you need me to do?”
“It’ll be quicker if I just show you,” she begins, rapidly walking ahead of me. “The entrance is just over here.”
“Entrance?” I inquire within the seemingly empty streets, effortlessly attempting to catch up to the silver haired woman.
As I turn the street corner, Nidaba re-enters my field of vision, and with a massive circle at her feet, the mage turns to me wearing a confident smile, determined to follow through with whatever scheme she has concocted. The drawn symbol where she stands seems to be of chalk, but as I slowly move closer, a different, unknown smell fills my nostrils, forcefully causing me to sneeze. Collecting myself and readjusting my vision, I move in Nidaba’s direction, adhering to her hand signals directing me nearer. The bright yellow sun barely manages to peak over the scattered buildings towering about us, partially lighting the area but all the same, allowing shadows to be cast by the oversized modern constructs. One of said shades falls directly upon Nidaba, causing her body to be apportioned evenly between the dark and light aspects of the scene comprising my vision. The mage’s image seems to elude the dichotomous monotony of reality itself, as she encaptures my line of sight once more, clearly prepared to begin whatever task she mentioned earlier.
“All set?” The witch asks, fully aware of my ignorance to what is about to occur.
“How can I be ‘all set’ if you won’t tell me what I need to be ‘all set’ for?”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she ignores my question, as a distorted alto noise quickly growing in volume begins to overcome all other sounds in the area.
Visibly violet energy in the form of plasma explodes from the circle about the two of us, as my vision grows increasingly whiter with every passing moment. My body begins to tingle, as a completely foreign feeling permeates my being. Rapidly and without warning, my vision becomes encompassed by an inexplicable white light, and I feel the matter composing my person fall apart while simultaneously reassembling in a new location. As if my being were whiplashed from motion to immotion, an entirely new scene is presented before my undilated pupils at a fair distance, filled with countless skyscrapers and vague outlines of people quickly scurrying atop the seemingly endless paved ground of the environment. There is no open sky, rather in its place, a dark gray rectangular ceiling with fantastical lights scattered across each corner to provide a replacement for Sol. I remain in awe of both my sudden and immediate transportation to this newfound area and the extensively estranged urban scene before me itself.
“What is this place?” I ask, still baffled.
“An old prototype, of sorts. Humanity before humanity, one might say,” the mage speaks in her expository manner from behind me.
“Before...humanity? Nidaba, what exactly does that mean?”
“Although it has philosophically and societally evolved the furthest, the current civilization of Earth and its species are not the first of Anu’s creation. We are but one trial in the endless experimentations of an obsessively crazed egomaniac, who has played god for far too long.”
“Not the first...? Why would...so this Anu is a legitimate god?” I search for clarification to Nidaba’s words through inquisitive and forthwith rambling.
“It’s strange how I learned all of this from Maximilian and am now repeating it to you, dontch’a think?” She asides her explanation with her immediate thoughts. “To answer your question though, I’ll need you to define what the term ‘god’ means to you.”
“A supernatural being beyond human comprehension who has played a direct role in the makeup and mechanisms of the perceivable universe,” I concisely define the word for the mage.
“Well...then sorta? To the extent of my knowledge, Anu is the overseer of the reality on this planet, not the creator. For an unfathomable amount of time, he has meticulously crafted, watched, and reset the brevity of conscious life on Earth in search of an answer to some question he refuses to share with anyone. Anyone, but you that was.”
“He shared the question with Maximilian?” I continue to seek information regarding the mystical debacle I have been thrust into.
“Let’s not delve into the details now, we’ve a job to do, Maxie,” Nidaba taps my shoulder gently, as she walks ahead of me towards the blandly colored cityscape.
“I still don’t know what this job is, though?”
“Ah, right, I knew I forgot something. We are here for a book. A grimoire, to be more precise,” she turns to me and finally explains the rationale for our teleportation to this place while backpedalling.
“Alright...so then, where exactly are we? Underground?”
“Not quite. We are currently in a pocket dimension formed by the inversion of a miniscule gravitational field via extraordinarily precise magecraft. This civilization fully embraced spellcraft and the mystic arts alongside innovations in science, after you and I displayed the parallels between the two practices, of course. In doing this, they attained a further developed and maximized technological state; in contrast to their sociability,” the mage explains, while still moving ahead of me facing the cityscape.
“Hang on...you’re telling me they have anti-gravity here? Like...ripped straight from science fiction? And it’s because you and I gave them magic when their civilization formed?” I search for clarification to Nidaba’s statement, genuinely intrigued by the prospect before me.
“More or less,” she starts, turning back towards the cityscape but looking over her left shoulder. “I’m not sure if exactly what you are imagining is what they’ve developed here, but the achithymians are quite good at what they do, so I wouldn’t be surprised, and yes, they never would have discovered magecraft had we withheld that information eight million years ago.”
“Achithymians? Is that the name of their city or something?”
“Nope. ‘Achithymia’ is the name of their species as a whole, like the term ‘humanity’. Unlike humanity though, these losers never split into multiple nations or states, instead opting to exist as a species void of politics or debate in their entirety”
“Sounds...a lot more efficient. So if these achithymia are so good at what they do, then why are they secluded to a pocket dimension, while humanity gets all of Earth?”
“Well, Anu quickly grew tired of this creation of his. The key difference between a human and an achithymian lies in the possession of emotions and ambition, and in turn, their entertainment value from an outside perspective. While they have surpassed human technology tenfold, the individuals of this species have no circumstantial will or personalized drive beyond the furthered progression of their collective society,” Nidaba derides, clearly displaying a high level of understanding and resentment regarding the society she speaks of. “Upon realizing the lack of will and intrigue to the achithymians, Anu secluded them to a realm of their own making to act as glorified record keepers.”
“You seem displeased by their way of life. What’s so bad about being void of subjectivity?”
“Subjectivity is the essence of enjoyment, Maxie. If you are unable to view something subjectively, you will never be able to understand or appreciate the minor facets of said thing that bring about satisfaction to your personalized consciousness.”
“I guess you have a point, but even so, if a civilization is devoid of prejudiced thinking and idiosyncrasy, they will undoubtedly be more successful than the alternative,” I object her focus upon individualized enjoyment within society. “More importantly though, I have yet to meet a human being, who is truly happy with their state of subsistence, meaning the inclusion of subjectivity fails to succeed in its singular hypothetical benefit, anyway.”
“Good to know you’re still so impressed by them,” she scoffs through reminiscent laughter. “Maximilian would always come here if he really needed to focus on something for an extended period of time. The amount of times I’ve drawn that stupid symbol to see if he was down here…” her words trail off as a distraught expression fills her once jovial face.
Her nostalgic statement lingers in the air about the two of us, as we continue nearing the skyscrapers ahead. A comfortable silence permeates the once talkative scene, and the mage remains less than half a meter ahead of me, strutting along the monotone gray pavement. Unsure of how to reply to Nidaba’s suddenly saddened mood, my mind is quickly overwhelmed by an intense clash of paranoia and guilt. From the very nascent of my existence, I have failed to effectively socialize with other people in any beneficial manner and despised forcing myself to do so anyway. The commonplace and unnecessary pleasantries human society deems socially correct cause an indescribable discomfort to overwhelm my mind. Communicating with other people for extended periods of time consistently becomes draining and cumbersome. The subtleties and nuance of language have always eluded my comprehension of reality, leaving me to feel either ignorant or plain dumb. Simply put, I am bad at communal activity and have understood this to be a detrimental factor regarding my overall usefulness to humanity for some time now; however, exploring the unforeseen world of magecraft through dialogue, discussing philosophical inquiries with a lackadaisically nonplussed attitude, speaking about truly nothing in particular for hours on end, and merely enjoying the mundane happenings of reality alongside Nidaba have granted a semblance of social confidence and security within myself. Directly in contrast to this, I fear my inability to connect with her. I fear my inability to understand her. I fear my inability to keep her in my life. Plausible ephemerality petrifies me. I ripped the individual she knew for millions of years from her merely by being thrust into existence. I did not ask to be born, yet by doing so, I have severely pained the woman ahead of me. My mind feels scrambled, and I suddenly grow anxious outside of my emotional control, becoming motionless abruptly mid stride. My throat tightens and my chest contorts. Nidaba notices my pause and turns to gaze through my worrisome pupils with her colorless eyes, likely beginning to read my thoughts.
“How’d you know I was...well look at you bein’ all perceptive for once??” She scoffs upon ascertaining the birth of the idea in my mind, confirming what I thought to be true. “More importantly, I see you still have the same social anxiety you always had. Some things really never change, huh?”
“Don’t…that’s so weird,” I embarrassedly remark regarding her response to the ideas secluded to my head, while averting my gaze downwards to avoid eye contact with the undoubtedly smug expression being relented upon me.
“I’ve just got one question…” the mage begins, quickly closing the gap between the two of us and bending over slightly to look into my panicked eyes. “Am I still the exception?”
“The exception?” I repeat her words, mostly sure of her intention but still seeking a different, less problematic one.
“It took him...a good few million years to finally admit it, but Maximilian most definitely said, ahem, ‘You are the single exception to my distaste for all the socially inclined creatures I have met’,” Nidaba clarifies the intention I had hoped to avoid discussing, perfectly imitating my voice while quoting the words of my past self.
“Well…” I begin but quickly fail to translate the alarmed line of rapid thought in my mind to speech, feeling my face begin to turn red. “You...it’s...I guess so,” I stumble about the words I speak like a child learning to walk, barely managing to force them off of my tongue due to an alien but disconcerting emotion brewing inside of me.
Upon finally uttering my guttural but honest response to Nidaba’s question, an inconceivably nostalgic yet novelly comforting warmth engrosses my person, as Nidaba wraps her slender arms around my torso, fully embracing me in an instant. The feeling is secure yet liberating. Unique yet customary. Calming yet inspiring. Practically in shock by the actions of the mage in the moment, I find myself paralyzed in the position I paused in earlier, unable to reciprocate the action.
“Me growing disinterested or hateful with you is the last thing you need to worry about, okay Maxie?” Nidaba stands on her toes in order to speak directly into my left ear with her comforting voice. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s you and me; Max and Nidaba, against the world, got it?”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I manage to speak, while gripping the mage’s frail back.
“Oh, will you now??” She loosens her hold on my torso, resting her hands on my shoulders and standing on her toes to bring us eye level. “Now c’mon, we’ve a book to find.”
“Lead the way,” I struggle to smile, as I speak, collecting my thoughts and emotions.
Nidaba starts ahead yet again, and soon enough, we arrive at the base of one of the countless skyscrapers scattered about the monochromatic pocket dimension. During the trek, we pass by multiple creatures much shorter than the average human, whom I can only assume to be the aforementioned species isolated in this reality. The individuals scurry about the concrete ground, quickly zipping from locale to locale and performing various tasks swiftly, likely to achieve some sense of ephemeral accomplishment. Observing the species which seems mostly disinterested in Nidaba and myself, I begin to understand the social differences between humanity and the achithymia in a more holistic sense. Devoid of hope, curiosity, and a true cause for being, the incessant workers ignore the grandiose imposition of the complex moral and existential questioning humanity often falls into and instead, display an acute ability to perform tasks assigned to them without further inquisition or explanation.
Now at the front of the tower, Nidaba quickly leads me into an extremely compact box that begins to traverse upwards along the side of the building, emanating no sound or heat while doing so. After a brief moment of time, the doors reopen to display an expansive room composed of innumerable geometrically shaped walls clustered together to form a perceivably endless amount of gray corridors lined with countless books of various vibrant colors. The mage casually struts out of the box and into the room, as I follow close behind. Humming a familiar tune that I am unable to definitively place, Nidaba walks past a large circular window displaying the surrounding skyscrapers and approaches a counter of sorts; at which, she presses a glowing white square atop the surface with her right index and middle fingers. Suddenly, noise, as if from a pipe organ, bellows from below us, and an extremely pale achithymian, no taller than one-hundred and fifty centimeters, is elevated by a silent mechanism to a seat behind the aforementioned counter. A small white robe hangs from the creature’s shoulders, covering his entire body, as he repositions himself in the chair and rotates his overly large head upward at Nidaba and I. The individual before us appears immensely estranged yet altogether intimidating in an uncanny sense.
“What is your reason for coming here, Nidaba?” The achithymian finally speaks in a flat voice deprived of any semblance of emotion.
“That’s no way to greet an old friend, now is it, 8-5-7-4-9-5-4-3-5-6-4? I was just in the neighborhood and figured I should stop by to say hello,” the mage lies as naturally as she breathes with a charismatic grin.
“You have achieved your purpose for coming here then, and now may leave,” the achithymian says plainly, unamused by the social meandering.
“What are all these books for?” I inquire from behind Nidaba.
“They are for me to perform maintenance upon.”
“Uh-huh...so, why do you perform maintenance upon them?” I rephrase my inquisition in response to the obvious answer.
“Because that is my assigned task. In order to achieve maximum efficiency, all achithymians must perform their given roles perfectly.”
“I told you about their way of life beforehand, so that this interaction wouldn’t occur, Max,” Nidaba annoyedly turns her head to the side and chides me with a sideways look. “Anyway, as I was saying Six-Four, I came here to borrow one of your books, if you would be so kind?”
“I have responded to this inquiry in the same manner every time it has been made, and the law still has yet to be changed. Anu forbids anyone from touching these books, except for me. It is my duty,” Six-Four offers immovable certainty with his final sentence.
“What exactly obligates you to follow Anu’s word?” I resume the inquisition much to Nidaba’s chagrin.
“Anu is the creator of myself and my species as a whole, thus I, and we, exist thanks to and for the sake of Anu. Without Anu, there are no achithymians. Without achithymians, progression of any kind is unattainable. Without progression, everything stagnates and society falls apart.”
“Regardless of your origin, do you not possess a certain will or desire individualized to yourself thanks to the multitude of experiences that have culminated in the consciousness you exist as in this very moment? Aside from the supernatural crafting of your species as a whole, within your cognizant subsistence in this reality, is there not a semblance of ambition to strive for something upon your merit and yours alone? Or rather, do you prefer to mindlessly accomplish menial tasks for a god that abandoned you because he found you boring?” I verbally assault the conscious creature before me, accidentally allowing the words to slip from my tongue streamlined directly from my mind.
Both individuals stare at me silently upon the conclusion of my barrage of caustic language; Nidaba appearing immensely frustrated yet somehow excited and Six-Four seemingly perplexed by my statements. The pastel mage’s eyes widen in shock as she continues to blink with her mouth agape, attempting to grasp something from under the table using her left arm with the achithymian distracted. Six-Four begins to speak lowly in an incredibly concise language I do not understand, as Nidaba shifts her gaze to me in an instant with a devious look in her eye.
“Do the thing, NOW!” The mage shouts at me in a hushed voice.
“What thing?”
“THE THING, MAX!!”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Nidaba?” I uneasily ask for clarification beyond ‘the thing’, while shifting my vision between the mage full of anticipation and the achithymian now filled with even more confusion.
“The time art.”
“Why would I do tha-”
“Stop arguing and JUST DO IT!!”
“Fine,” I finally concede to the woman’s exhaustive plea and instantly divert all of my focus towards halting the motion of the fourth dimension.
Immediately prior to reality freezing the awkward environment about the three of us and the inconceivable pain from before’s permeation of my being, Nidaba rapidly lifts her left hand above the counter to reveal a maroon grimoire with golden lining held by her index finger and thumb. Mentally secluding the brevity of the pain into a single point in an attempt to ignore the agony welling inside of me, I reach across the counter to grab the book with my right hand and place it between the waistband of my pants and my stomach, releasing my hold over time as soon as possible. Nidaba blinks for a second, but quickly diverts her gaze to my lower abdomen and smugly smiles. Six-Four continues to look equally as perplexed as the moments following my verbal assault, rapidly growing more and more disgusted with each passing instant.
“You magi and your emotions are absurdly nonsensical. I don’t understand what Anu sees in you worthless lot. Begone at once,” Six-Four finally speaks with a certain annoyance in his voice, and as he does, the mechanism from before removes him from our sight, leaving Nidaba and I isolated in the dull room of colorful books.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
A brief silence ensues but is suddenly shattered by an outburst of laughter from the woman beside me. Tears begin to stream down the mage’s face, as she cackles in amusement at the interaction that occurred moments ago. She attempts to compose herself by placing her hand on my left shoulder to catch her breath. The laughter slows to a halt, and eventually, Nidaba looks up to my unamused expression.
“You seriously didn’t find that funny?” She questions my sense of humor, while wiping the tears in the corners of her eyes.
“Not particularly.”
“Solemn as ever, Maxie,” she chides me with a smile, turning and walking back towards the entrance to the box.
I follow the mage’s movements, but as I enter the elevator-type contraption, the entire scene is bathed in dark red light, and the alto noise from before echoes repetitively at an ever increasing volume. The sudden change is undoubtedly due to the book hidden underneath my clothing, and realizing this simultaneously, Nidaba and I look at each other unsure of what to do next.
“I’ve got an idea, but you’re definitely not gonna like it,” she unsuredly claims.
“Your bad idea is better than my lack of one. What is it?”
“More of an outline but still, meet me back at the circle that brought us here.”
“We’re splitting up?”
“In essence,” she deviously remarks, turning her back to me and chanting in a familiar tongue.
A booming crumbling noise emanates from below us, as the entire building begins to shake. Following a brief pause of silence, subsequent blasts occur in rapid succession, causing the building to vibrate violently, displacing pieces of the floor about us. Nidaba grabs my wrist, materializes her dual bladed knife in an instant, tears a hole in the side of the box, and throws my extremely confused person out of the makeshift window before I am able to realize the imminent danger I am in. I feel myself burst through the narrow opening, embracing the coldly still air of the outside and viewing the ground numerous meters below me. The false gravity of the dimension begins to take hold of my motionless body suspended in the air, and I realize an uninterrupted plummet to the concrete below will most definitely result in my death. As if it were attempting to prevent my demise, debris in freefall from the magically detonated skyscraper begins to accumulate about me, protecting me from a sudden hail of altered gravitational blasts likely shot by the achithymians above. Thriving within the chaotic clusterfuck of concrete rubble, magical projectiles, continued explosions, and distorted gravitational waves, Nidaba leaps from the same hole I was thrown from in a significantly more graceful manner, weaving, dodging, and prancing from freefalling surface to freefalling surface in the direction of the established rendezvous point, as I realize the outline of a plan described to me ends at this point.
Completely unsure of what to do next and clearly in a state of emergency, I decide to utilize the only viable form of magecraft I’ve used previously, an expulsion art, to attempt to propel myself in Nidaba’s direction. Placing the entirety of my focus and concentration upon collecting mana at my fingertips, translucent energy begins to swirl about my right hand until finally bursting in a resultant upward gust of wind. An intense burning sensation fills my arm, as it flings backwards loosely and out of my control. I soar upwards directly past Nidaba, who appears shocked by my reckless and overtly suicidal method of travel. After a few seconds, my eyes become difficult to keep open, and I can feel my consciousness begin to slip from my control. Before I am lost in the deep pit of nothingness that awaits me, I feel myself suddenly slow down, as the force of gravity recaptures its hold upon me, returning my mind to the reality before, or rather below, me. I look downwards to see the flat concrete street Nidaba and I had walked down to reach the skyscraper, now reduced to rubble behind me, and envision the silver haired mage sprinting at an inhuman speed to catch me prior to my likely fatal gravitationally accelerated collision with the ground. As if the situation weren’t dire enough, two unmanned drones rocket downwards from the concrete ceiling, zipping past the mage rapidly and honing in upon the grimoire firmly tucked in my waistband. Cognizant of both the drones’ superior movement speed compared to Nidaba and undoubtedly lethal capabilities about to be employed, I freeze time, halting the approaching machines and continuing to fall towards the concrete with no one to prevent my impact other than myself.
Unsure of how much mana I have left, losing color in my vision, unable to move my right arm, and holistically out of options, I collect mana in my left hand and attempt to cast a comparably weaker anemo blast in order to cushion my collision against the concrete without relaunching myself into the air. I let go of the stockpiled mana, completely losing feeling in my left hand, as a euphoric pain bounces about my skull, preventing my slip into unaware darkness. The wind magic barely overcomes the force of gravity and slightly tosses my lifeless body upward to then be smacked against the ground at a velocity of less fatal magnitude. As I lay with my bleeding face stuck to the dry concrete, I lose my grip on the fourth dimension and feel it resume its routine passage, allowing both Nidaba and the drones to continue moving in my direction. My body refuses to adhere to my commands, rife with a sickly feeling of sore exhaustion. Moments before the two airborne machines are able to close in on the grimoire, Nidaba leaps into the air, grabs hold of a pole sticking out from the surrounding rubble, and gymnastically spins about the metal stick three times, propelling herself at an acute angle through the air via the break of centripetal force and dramatic increase of tangential acceleration. The silver haired mage flies at an unfathomable speed in a depressed parabolic arc, arriving at the small gap of space between the drones, while throwing two identical dual-bladed knives into each instantaneously. As if unphased by gravity, the mage lightly places her feet to the ground and looks into my blood stained eyes with a worrisomely disappointed expression.
“I’ve seen a lot of strange applications to magecraft in my sixty-five million years of existence, but Maxie…” Nidaba pauses and scoffs in an almost impressed tone. “That was something else entirely.”
“Your plan was shit,” I struggle to speak with my face glued to the pavement by the congealing of blood.
“I warned you you wouldn’t like it, but it all worked out in the end,” the mage attempts to validate her unthought out outline of a plan, while helping my practically limp body upright with her right shoulder as a crutch.
“You consider this to be a success?” I inquire, while struggling to pull the grimoire from my waistband, continuing our conversation and approaching the teleportation symbol incrementally.
“Indubitably. You wouldn’t??” She answers and reposes the question unto me, while snatching the book from my hand and quickly flipping through the pages with her free left hand.
“I think we have radically differing definitions of the term.”
“Everyone has different definitions for everything, Max. More importantly, this is definitely the right book,” Nidaba confidently proclaims, evidently locating whatever it is she sought.
“What’d you find?” I ask, curious of what I recently risked my life to obtain.
“Anu is, in fact, not a god. All that moron is is the first mage to be born, although that does give him more mana than the rest of us combined,” she exposes the apparent secrets of the supposed god. “What this means though, is that he can be killed; just as easily as the rest of us.”
“That is if you can get close enough to him. You just commented on his inane mana supply,” I retort her hopes of removing the largest threat to the both of us.
“I’d wager that it’s difficult to use any magic if time itself is frozen about you, regardless of how much mana you possess,” the mage clearly refers to my barely usable spell able to halt the fourth dimension.
“If I were to freeze time for any extended period of time, I would end up writhing in agony on the ground again,” I continue to poke holes in her new outline of a plan.
“Practice makes perfect, sweetie,” Nidaba facetiously treats me like a child, as we arrive at the chalklike symbol.
The silver haired mage positions the two of us at the center of the magic circle and begins to chant in the usual ancient language. The symbol begins to glow synonymously to before and the estranged feelings of disassembly and reassembly return. As my vision begins to fade, I witness innumerable identical drones pouring from the ceiling above us, approaching the grimoire in the woman’s hand at an absurd speed. Well before the machines are able to draw dangerously near the two of us, we return to the mundane and familiar streets of human civilization. Nidaba places my seriously wounded person against the wall of the alleyway and begins to cast some type of spell upon me without my consent.
“What are you doing?” I question the art positioned on my battered arms.
“Healing you, idiot. Now, hold still,” she demands of me, placing an immense amount of concentration on the spell.
Once the mage finishes, I feel a notable difference in both the physical exhaustion and residual pain rattling throughout my body moments before. Now possessing ample energy and able to move my body easily once more, I rise to my feet and stretch my tight limbs. Nidaba snickers at my discomfort within my own body, as I struggle to situate myself.
“This is amazing...Thank you, Nidaba,” I attempt to display gratitude towards the use of magic to circumvent my pain.
“Don’t mention it. I’m the one who should be thanking you anyway.”
The mage relents a bright smile upon me, improving my mood drastically, as we begin to walk back towards my uncle’s house through the urban scenery. The two of us continue to discuss menial topics the entire way, comfortably coexisting alongside each other within a social atmosphere. Birds continue to flutter across the deep blue canvas of the sky. Clouds drift aimlessly, propelled by the wind. Squirrels scurry across the pavement in search of foodstuffs. Sol luminates the entire scene for my eyes to bear witness to, but more importantly, none of it matters. The unceasing observation and inquisition flooding from the innards of my consciousness holds no true purpose outside of the furthering of my own personal knowledge and satisfaction. Thus, what truly holds value and purpose within my life is that which I deem to be valued or meaningful and nothing else. The standards of any society, the influence of any person, or the ideals of any movement are excluded from this moment. This moment of actual happiness. Eventually, the moment passes, and we arrive at the front door.
“I’ll return to your room later tonight after I finish reading this,” the mage informs me of her immediate intentions, while presenting the grimoire as reference for the pronoun ‘this’.
“I don’t have any plans anyway.”
“I know you don’t, loser,” Nidaba teases me and instantly vanishes from my sight, returning me to reality.
I enter the door to the house in front of me and envision Bennett uncharacteristically conscious on the sofa watching television. The drunk turns his head slightly to gaze upon my person in the doorway with a somewhat confused expression. I casually begin to move towards the bottom of the stairwell in hopes of escaping to my room without any social interaction but am quickly interrupted by the gargled voice I so rarely hear.
“Where’ve you been?? Huh, kid?” The man begins to interrogate my disappearance earlier this morning in a drunkard voice.
“I was out with a friend,” I curtly reply, doing everything in my power to end the conversation.
“‘Out with a friend’, huh?” The waste of space repeats my answer as a question. “Your school called, you know?”
“I’ll be able to manage my workload,” I dissuade his assumption.
“Who is this friend?”
“No one,” I grow immensely bored of the lackluster and meaningless conversation occurring.
“You’rea cocky little shit, y’knowdat?” Bennett berates me through slurred speech.
I turn my back to my father’s brother and continue my passage up the stairs into the warm isolation of my room, escaping the bothersome interaction as quickly as possible. I collapse onto my bed, as the unrelenting storm of questions and ideas resumes within my mind, unstimulated by anything else. The thoughts soon overwhelm me and I become lost along innumerable tangents between unalike concepts and ideas. I begin to grow strangely comfortable within the maelstrom of my mind, and soon enough, I lose my grip on consciousness, falling into the intrusive pit of nothingness yet again.
“Maaax,” a voice gently calls out to me from outside my peaceful unconsciousness. “Don’t make me smack you, wake up already!” The voice quickly grows impatient.
I open my eyes to the usually dull ceiling of my room but am surprised to have a familiar face hovering above me. Nidaba’s impatience soon morphs into curious excitement, as she realizes her attempts to pry me from sleep were successful. The mage’s face is difficult to make out in the unlit atmosphere of my room, but her voice and fragrance are unmistakable.
“Took ya long enough, sleepyhead,” she teases my barely conscious mind. “It’s morning already, so get up. I wanna take you somewhere.”
“What time is it?” I mumble in response, still half asleep.
“Time for you to get up.”
“And who decided that?”
“I did, so get…” Nidaba pauses, taking hold of something before continuing. “UP!!” She shouts, ripping my wondrously comfortable and warm blanket away from me.
“Mmmmm…” I annoyedly moan, begrudged by the thievery of my protective armament. “Look what you’ve done. I’m freezing, and you’re a horrible person.”
“Oh my! How will you ever survive the harsh cold of this temporal climate??” she sarcastically comments. “Quit being a wimp.”
“This better be good,” I struggle to speak while sitting up in my bed.
Nidaba stands at my bedside and takes hold of my hands once I fully sit up, anxiously pulling me from the heavenly comfort of my mattress. Entirely against my will, I am dragged from my room and out of the house, as the grogginess of sleep begins to wear off. Now able to fully comprehend my surroundings, I take note of Nidaba’s notably different appearance. Rather than the typical monochromatic dress or blouse, the mage has what can only be described as casual clothing adorned upon her. A thin, maroon shirt covers her torso, and an archaic but intricate bracelet rests on her wrist. She wears a matching pair of black shorts and knee-high socks along with dark gray loafers to obstruct the view of her pale legs. Her long, silver hair flows freely in the wind, as she continues to lead me towards an unknown destination.
“Almost there...I saw this place a while ago walking through town,” she informs me full of excitement.
“What place?”
“Patience is a virtue, Maxie,” she proclaims confidently.
“That’s rich coming from you, Nidaba.”
“Here it is!” the mage exclaims, ignoring my comment.
Before the two of us is a quaint coffee shop on the corner of an uncrowded street. The sun is just starting to peek over the buildings blocking the horizon, as the open sign lights up, indicating the beginning of a new business day. I am further guided by Nidaba through the front door and into a seat with a menu in front of me. Before I realize it, I acquire the appearance of a functioning member of society.
“Why did you bring me here?” I repeat my questioning of the woman before me’s actions up to this point.
“Because you like coffee, and I heard this place has some of the best in town,” Nidaba offers the most blatantly obvious and vague explanation imaginable in an overtly playful tone.
“Let me clarify: why did you bring me here so early in the morning?” I attempt to derive her motivation for initiating this situation.
“Are you gonna keep complaining or are you gonna order something?”
“You’re an enigma,” I yield my inquisition defeatedly.
“I like to keep it that way,” Nidaba replies with a genuine smile, bringing about an end to my aggravated mood.
The server soon takes our orders with a fabricated friendly smile and promptly leaves, promising to return with two iced mochas in a timely manner. Nidaba gazes out the window, seemingly entranced by the pink clash of night and day strewn across the morning sky. Her pale gray eyes perfectly reflect the image into mine. A comfortable silence permeates the once talkative table, as time seemingly freezes about the two of us. An unfamiliar feeling wells up within me. Something more than the occasional burst of dopamine from menial entertainment or the state of content I feel while isolated. True comfort. A brief taste of happiness. The pale gray eyes shift their piercing gaze to the dull brown irises of mine, and a wonderful smile appears across her face.
“What are you looking at?” Nidaba inquires of me skeptically, snapping me back into reality.
I avert my eyes while blinking repetitively and grip the bridge of my nose with my right thumb and index finger, saying, “sorry, I spaced out.”
“Uh-huh,” she mocks me with a smug smile. “You’re lucky I disconnected the neural link.”
“I should be thanking you for not reading my mind?” I ask rhetorically.
“No need to bend the knee or anything, but a simple thank you would be nice.”
“I’m not thanking you for not reading my mind, Nidaba.”
“And I’m not paying for the coffee, so we’re even,” she replies confidently.
“I didn’t bring my wallet.”
“But I did,” the mage declares with a deviously pompous grin, pulling my black wallet from her back pocket.
“Do you really not have any money?” I inquire, piecing the situation together in my mind.
“No I do not!” She declares way too confidently. “I never really saw the value of currency when someone first thought of it, and I still don’t like it. Brings about too much excess.”
I sigh and take the leather purse from the cocksure mage, left with no choice but to pay the entirety of the inexpensive bill. The server returns with our drinks and swiftly leaves us, reverting the table to a comfortable silence for a brief moment. I plug the paper straw into the plastic cup of light brown coffee and begin to sip on the bittersweet beverage.
“It is pretty good,” I comment on the above-average taste of the iced mocha.
“See?? Aren’t you glad I brought you here?” Nidaba excitedly implores me to revise my previous statements.
“Yeah…” I reply with a brief pause. “I guess I am.”
The two of us finish the drinks, while continuing to converse about pointless topics with one another and throw the empty cups into the designated trash bin by the exit. I make my way to the counter to pay the bill, while Nidaba exits the shop to wait outside. Upon completing the uncomfortable transaction with the overly talkative cashier, I exit the store to find Nidaba standing by the street light in front of the shop, staring at the now bluish morning sky filled with cumulus clouds. She remains still. Motionless except her silver hair, flowing in the subtle breeze. I approach her and tear her away from whatever escape from reality she was gripped by with a few paranoid words.
“Is Anu going to send more mages since we stole that grimoire?”
“More?” she nervously repeats my paranoia, turning to face me. “I don’t know. You’re an exception to nearly every established rule, and so your treatment is left entirely to the immediate discretion of that dickhead,” the confident mage’s voice begins to waver. “Compounded with us stealing that book, I have no idea what he’s planning, but no matter what,” she strengthens her resolve. “I’ll protect you. I promise you that.”
“Thanks, Nidaba,” I provide genuine gratitude towards the woman before me. “I’ll try to do the same.”
“Okay, bigshot,” she jokingly responds, returning to her usual self. “Just don’t hurt yourself too bad.”
With that, the two of us return to my Uncle’s home, where Nidaba proceeds to teleport away before startling my dad’s undoubtedly hungover brother. I return to my room and almost instantly, to sleep within the warm comfort of my bed, entrapped by the isolated imaginings of my mind.
The passage of time continues regularly in spite of the paradigm shift my perception of the world underwent. I continue to speak with Nidaba regularly, garnering bits of knowledge regarding the constructs of spellcraft and the broader world of magic and multiple societies as a whole through our playful dialogue. School remains monotonous but somehow more withstandable, and Lucy’s masterful ability to nag me persists before, after, and sometimes even during class. My life, for lack of a better term, subsists. These insightful thoughts float in the back of my mind, as I am enlisted to go on a midnight walk with Nidaba.
“Come ooooon!!! It’ll be fun!” The mage insists.
“It’s already past midnight, and I’m tired,” I curtly reply.
“That just means the moon’ll be out. Quit being lame.”
“Fine,” I give in to Nidaba’s demands with a sigh.
The moonlight shines wonderfully in the night sky, as we walk through the park near my uncle’s house. The subtle chirping of birds and insects mystifies the air around us, as the mage stops walking and turns to me, her face basqued in the eerie light. Her long silver hair flowing in the slight breeze. Her pale gray eyes glowing in the ominous dark of the night. Nidaba holds my full attention, as she playfully speaks,
“Doesn’t the moon look really cool?”
“It does,” I agree with her inquiry, looking up to gaze upon the bright full moon behind the mage. “Is this what we came out here in the middle of the night for?”
“More or less,” she speaks, as I shift my eyes to her. “I guess being with you isn’t bad either.”
“I enjoy being with you too, Nidaba,” I speak words unfiltered from my immediate thoughts.
“Is that so?” she replies deviously with a smug smile. “I guess some things don’t change with reincarnation, huh.”
“And what do you mean by that?” I inquire, entirely sure of her meaning.
“Anyhoo, any luck replicating that spell?”
“No. I think there needs to be some sort of emergency for my knowledge of spellcraft to be unlocked,” I defeatedly answer, accepting her change in topic.
“Well...don’t get too upset about it. It’s not that big of a deal anyway,” the pale mage attempts to comfort me.
“I guess, but if we run into another mage like Nergal-”
“Then I’ll be there to save your sorry ass!” Nidaba exclaims with a smile.
“I can’t just rely on you to save me.”
“‘Course you can. I got your back, remember?”
“Still, I’d like to help you, if at all possible.”
“You worry too much any…” Nidaba begins to chide me, but her words quickly trail off.
The mage’s face intensifies, as she quickly assumes the uncannily unbalanced stance she so rarely utilizes. The twin-bladed knife materializes in her hand. The twilight moon glistens off her eyes and the obsidian alike. Energy begins to surge around the area, and Nidaba’s silver hair floats above her shoulders.
“I see your mana perception skills are as sharp as ever, Nidaba,” a deep voice echoes from the shadows.
“Max,” she whispers towards me in a hushed tone. “Run. Now.”
Her frightened voice strikes terror into my soul. The normally cheerful woman appears worried yet altogether determined and prepared for whatever lies in the darkness before us. Suddenly, bundles of pure energy, fire, water, and lightning penetrate the shadows and soar in our direction; however, in an instant, Nidaba circles around me, deflecting each attack with a fluid motion. The redirected spells land behind their intended targets in a fantastical explosion of an amalgamation of elements. Ignoring the eruption of magical energy, the mage then kicks me directly in the chest, sending me flying towards a nearby bench and street light, while yelling,
“GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!”
The plethora of spells are fired again in Nidaba’s direction, but she manages to dodge them all and enters the obscure shadows from which they emanate. The clashing of steel against obsidian and chanting of spells drowns the once mystified air, as I attempt to recompose myself for a few moments.
I won’t leave her, I think to myself while managing to catch my breath yet struggling to stand.
Glimpses of the silver-haired mage elusively evading the countless spells flash into my unclear vision. Suddenly within the scene conveyed to my eyes via the fleeting light of the moon alongside sparing street lights, Nidaba ducks underneath a horizontal flash of electricity and materializes four flawless knives, throwing the sharpened obsidian blades like darts and piercing three of her four intended targets. The woman remains constantly pressured by the innumerable amount of hooded mages surrounding her yet regardless of the imminent danger, expertly pervades the chaotic scene, casting responsive mystical arts and avoiding the barrage of applied mana upon her person incessantly. Instantaneously and without warning, a grotesquely towering mage appears behind the woman and grips her left arm tightly, twisting her forearm with a hauntingly overwhelming physical strength. Screaming in agony for a brief moment, Nidaba reamasses her focus and drives a dual-bladed knife into the throat of the hooded figure lifting her off the ground, killing him instantly. As the towering mage falls to the ground with obsidian in his neck, three less towering but equally as intent hooded figures emerge from the encompassing darkness, rapidly closing in upon the woman. As they narrow the gap of space, Nidaba crouches down and gyrates about her center of mass with her right foot kicked out, sweeping the legs of all three approaching threats. The heroine then leaps into the air, amassing an overtly dangerous pyro art and dropping the newly formed celestial body of Helium and Hydrogen upon the heads of the three discombobulated mages, who were swept from their feet. The incinerated corpses return to their root of nothingness, as Nidaba replaces her feet to the floor and continues to repel the relentless attacks of the mages seeming to take shape by nothing other than the virtue of dark nothingness about us. A hoodless mage with fiery red hair sprints from the shadows with an extensively elongated sword in hand, resolved to drive the blade into Nidaba’s back, but aware of the threat approaching behind her, the woman backflips over the ginger, stabbing one of her seemingly infinite knives into the top of the man’s skull. She lands and continues to rapidly survey her surroundings for subsequent peril. The silver haired mage clearly possesses more experience in combat than the persistent hoods; however, as seems routine within reality, plurality eventually surmounts expertise.
I begin to trudge back in Nidaba’s direction, but she suddenly lands in front of me, horribly injured. Her gorgeous face is horrendously bruised and blood gushes from a cut atop her pale forehead. Her left arm is completely corkscrewed and purple with blood dripping from her torn sleeve, as she struggles to stand, unable to apply pressure to her right foot.
“Nidaba, I…” I begin to speak but find no words to express the fear and distress overwhelming my mind in the moment.
“Stop…” she struggles to speak in a raspy voice, beginning to cough up blood. “Max, you need to run. Live. You-” she interrupts herself, spitting out even more red ichor and falling to her knees.
I’m speechless. No words can express the horror consuming my mind upon seeing Nidaba in such a state. I, instinctively, embrace her almost lifeless body upright in the street, illuminated by the single street light above us. I squeeze the mage’s weakly frail body, as tears begin to well in my eyes.
“I can’t lose you too,” I manage to implore the hateful continuation of existence through streaming tears and choked breath.
“You’re so sweet, Maxie,” she sofly replies, resting her hand on my face and, once more, gazing through my eyes with a smile. “Now listen to me, these mages...they’re dangerous. And relentless,” blood begins to seep from her nose, as she struggles more and more to speak with every word. “Get out of here. I’ll end this, for good this time.”
“What do you mean? I won’t leave you here to die!” I begin to yell, while tears continue to stream down my cheeks and my chest contorts with an inexplicable anguish.
“I’ve lived long enough, Max. You still have a life ahead of you, regardless of who you were in the past. What makes you you are your decisions, thoughts, and beliefs. Never forget… you deserve to live as you want to, not who Maximilian wants, not who I want, and certainly not who Anu or any of these assholes want. You are conscious. You are real. Life is worth living, so experience it and enjoy the hell out of it.”
Upon speaking those words to me, the injured mage rises to her feet, and for the final time, assumes her uncanny stance, dual bladed knife in hand. She turns to me, her silver hair flowing in the moonlight, her pale gray eyes piercing through mine, her perfect, shining smile ingrained into my mind forever, and speaks,
“Now go! Live, Max!”
The mage prances back into the darkness, as energy, similar but somehow different to the surges before, begins to encompass the surrounding area. The potency of the mana is stupendously petrifying, and I remain on the pavement with Nidaba’s words swirling around my confused mind. The mana explodes with intensity, as she becomes perfectly visible, shining within the darkness. Even now in this horrifying moment, she is as captivating as ever before. Harshly purple aura emanates about her, and she opens her now glowing eyes, chanting a forebodingly ominous spell.
“NIDABA!! DON’T!!” I attempt to prevent what I somehow know will bring about the end of the mage, as in an identical fashion to before, time itself freezes around me.
The unforgettable pain courses throughout my body, undoubtedly caused by the novel halting of the passage of time. My entire body writhes in agony, but through sheer willpower, I manage to stand and slowly move towards Nidaba, the glowing light in the horrifying surrounding darkness. Each step brings an ever increasing level of suffering within my mind and throughout my spine, yet all the same, I persist, determined to assist the injured mage in whatever manner plausible. Following years of aimlessness, emptiness, and loss, this one woman brought something real, alive, and emotional into my life. The debt I owe and gratitude I feel towards her is inconceivable, as without her, my existence would remain lifeless and dull. These thoughts twirl about the confines of my consciousness. Time begins to meld into my reality. The spell consumes my being. The once bluish setting turns monochromatic to my eyes. Pain. Overwhelming, unceasing, unfathomable pain courses throughout every cell that composes my person. I open my eyes, gazing upon Nidaba, still entrapped by the darkness. Still motionless in time. Pain defines my existence. Fear consumes my mind. I have to save her.
I hold this state, unwilling to let go of the fourth dimension. Unwilling to let Nidaba die. The pain increases with each moment spent frozen in time, but all the same, I endure it. I writhe in agony on the pavement, knowing the pain will subsist as long as time is frozen. I do not care. I refuse to let her die. Eventually, the length of my isolation in the unmoving fourth dimension becomes unknown to me. The pain begins to fade and along with it, much of what remained of my will and ambition. I fail to remember my own name. I fail to recall who I am. I fail to even remember why I froze time in the first place. All I know is that it must remain motionless, whatever the cost may be.
Time fails to resume its unrelenting passage, as it has for as long as I can remember now. The silver-haired woman remains, horrendously wounded, determined to protect me, and all the same, frozen by the motionless fourth dimension. I have become numb to the pain that used to overwhelm my being and sit, determined to bring about a conclusion to this hopeless world. Humans, Achithymians, reality, society, relationships. They’re meaningless and bothersome components of the endless suffering of life. Humans will quickly betray each other to satisfy their own selfish desires. Achithymians accept the purpose of their existence, whatever it may be, without question. Reality is isolated to a single unverifiable perspective and is a mere reflection of actual matter. Society is the pitifully repetitious attempt of various weak yet prideful species to surmount and ultimately devastate the order of nature. Relationships are pointless attempts at coexistence that will eventually fail and crumble due to disagreement or the simple passage of time. Mankind is not special. They simply grew the ability to ponder beyond mere survival and therefore placed themselves at the center of the grandiose tale of the universe. There is no benevolent god. Only a mage, able to bend time itself to his will, and this mage has grown tired of the never ending story of humanity and incessant machinations of Anu.
I conceptually visualize the fourth dimension before me and begin to take hold. As I grip the immotion of time, I experience the essence of my being blend with the circular persistence and fade into nothingness and abundance simultaneously. Regardless, I feel no pain or pleasure. I examine the root of existence, of humanity specifically, and begin to gauge its objective value within arbitrary human ideals. Pollution, crime, prejudice, and hate versus innovation, collaboration, and love. The truth is clear. Despite the wondrous inventions and progress attained by modern civilization, the human race has acted like a cancer to the planet it inhabits, the other species around it, and even to itself. It has subverted the function of natural selection to an unsafe extreme, leading the Earth to a premature end. As I come to this conclusion and denounce the decisions of this planet’s overseer, Nidaba’s words return to me and echo in my mind,
“You are real. Life is worth living.”
I begin to cry. The tears relentlessly stream down the sides of my face. Her smile. Her laugh. Her eyes. I fall to my knees, loosening my firm grip on the fourth dimension and instead grip my cold, wet face.
“What am I doing?” I question my own thoughts and actions for a brief moment, as time resumes it’s regular pace.
The purple aura emanating from Nidaba immediately explodes, launching me past the bench and street light.
“See?? Aren’t you glad I brought you here?” Her words from the past continue to play within my mind against my will.
Violet electricity rattles through the air, as the potency of mana continues to fluctuate uncontrollably at an immense level. I manage to catch a glimpse of the silver-haired mage, unleashing the entirety of her life force through strange attack magic, eviscerating the surrounding cloaked figures flawlessly. Her attacks, evasions, and movements fully captivate my attention for the last time, as she perfectly and unforgivingly removes each mage from the hell of existence. Soon, all threats are reduced to ash, and the light exuding from Nidaba fades. The woman turns to me and smiles one last time before collapsing to the ground. Lifeless.
“Adorable as ever, Maxie,” the flood of memories refuses to relent.
I stumble towards her with the pitiful energy remaining within me. I manage to reach the woman, who has saved my life countless times and gently turn her on her back. Her bruised face still appears beautiful in the moonlight, as her soft, gray hair rests on the ground about her. She’s perfect. I hold her coldly still body in my arms and rocking back and forth, begin to sob. Nidaba died because of me.
I remain in the park, holding her corpse until the sun begins to rise to bring about an end to this horrid night. As I attempt to move with the cold body in my arms, it begins to grow much lighter, eventually becoming weightless and ephemeral. Suddenly and instantly, Nidaba vanishes before my eyes for the last time, leaving me alone in the park at dawn. Isolated. I find myself at a loss. I don’t feel temperature, texture, or physical pain due to the buildup of complete tolerance to stimulation my nerves have undergone within the frozen time, and yet despite this, my chest aches with a horrendous and inexplicable pain. Subsistence itself is painful. I leave the park and start home, lacking any other options. I am lifeless. An almost sick feeling welling within me. A constant discomfort to my state of being. This is my isolated reality.
I enter my Uncle’s house and find him asleep on the couch, surrounded by empty beer cans. I slowly walk upstairs, enter my room, and lay in bed. My mind is blank. A constant anxiety of subsequent magical attacks haunts me all the while depression consumes my mind. Ambitionless, sad, and alone, I lie in bed, completely still, and begin to cry. The tears pour from my eyes uncontrollably, and as the pointlessness of life itself sets in, I am left alone in the confines of my mind with nothing but my terrifying thoughts.