Now… where were we?

Jirtu dons a brown robe from a forlorn wooden grave, a sly grin stretches over his face like a mask.

The vortex still swirls behind him, still churns with potent, unorthodox magic before it snaps shut, leaves him in silence and in darkness.

The green glow dies. The noise dies.

And then the light begins again.

The stars in Kalimdor have always been… grotesque. Not to say that they are not beautiful; but to imagine what they are… It makes the stomach churn. It makes the soul grow weary… Or perhaps that was the slaughter which did that, the slaying of my two friends from eons past…

The path unfurls at his feet, a brown dirt path which presses like sand between his bare toes. It stretches out forward as the universe unravels for his existence, opens up canyons between more and more paths through a giant, cratered world.

The sky turns from black to a vibrant rainbow of only the purest azures and violets.

I know this world is dead, though I wonder if some sort of warp is the cause of this one. Last time I visited here, it was just as desolate. This is… an unhappy place.

Oh — I never did finish my thought. Why are the stars so grotesque? Because each one is another dying universe. This place has no space to call its own, no vacuous nebulae or faux planets or impressionable constellations. This world is surrounded by a bubble through which the entire multiverse is visible. Every star up there is one in the process of exploding. The colors of the sky are the universes themselves…

One star in particular caught Jirtu's eye as he stepped forward. There's Ciliamont. I bid you farewell, my home plane. Would that I could save you…

But it's my fault. Isn't it? I unravel every plane which I touch.

He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly.

No. Relax. Steady yourself. You'll need your sanity for the way home.

His gaze again went skyward.

…And then he looked down to the silvery Mirror Magus who blocked the path forward.

“Jirtu. So good to see you again—”

Jirtu flung a bolt of raw magic at him. The mirror man threw forward his hand and deflected it.

Jirtu threw his hands up, grabbed the ley bare so that his palms seared to smoke, thrust his grips forward in a desperate push of all the ley in the land.

The force bolt exploded in a plume. The Mirror Magus braced with his forearm, fell to the ground.

“You weak fuck—oof!”

Jirtu flew back and fell supine in the same way as the magus. His own arm came up reflexively. Looking ahead at the strange figure… it was almost like staring into a mirror.

“You… deflected it?”

“Not slightly, Jirtu.”

They both stood to their feet in the same manner, both stood to face each other again… Then they both smacked the dust from their robes.

“You're copying me. You're really starting to piss me off.”

“I am you, Jirtu. From another plane. In every universe, there is another version of oneself—”

“Yes, yes, I've heard the theory. But I'm not such an obnoxious twat as you are.”

“Are you so sure?”

Jirtu didn't respond. He looked instead to the sky, made an attempt to locate Caloria’s hues.

“You won't find it up there.”

“There where is it?”

“The other side of the planet.”

Jirtu cocked his head, spat with fiery rage, “Are you fucking joking? I'm supposed to walk all the way around? I know how big Kalimdor is, it's not possible!”

“Then you must find an adjacent plane to make the jump from. Might I suggest one?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“You might not.” He looked up again. “What about that one? Arebo?”

“You'll get arrested if you go there. They've outlawed magic.”

“Outlawed ma… Thrige, then.”

“Their connection to the library was severed after a criminal used it as an escape route.”

“Are you telling me that every universe which once was open to the library is now closed?” he hissed through grit teeth.

“Nearly all of them.”

“What about Sho Ga’li? Surely they could not have—”

“After they overthrew their God Emperor, they did. They believed it was from the library that his cruel monarchy emerged.”

“Then why don't I try once more to sever your thread of life?” His hands flared with dark magic.

“Should you intend that course again, I would wish you luck: even if you should kill me, my soul will not follow your command.”

Jirtu's magic died. His scowl grew immense, his rage an eager flame.

“...Might I suggest a plane?”

And once again through grit teeth, Jirtu answered: “Very. Well.”

X

Elos ducked low to the ground, ran his fingers through a muddy footprint. “He was here.”

Pek dropped down behind. Okella bounced on his shoulder. “Couldn't see too far over the trees. This place is infested by nature.”

“Jungled is the word, I believe. It's denser than Alisa by a landslide.”

Pek's armor clattered as he looked down to Elos. He pulled at his collar, too tight with the sudden heatwave. "We landed right on top of him. But where did he go?"

"There's a footprint, at least, but..." Pek stood up and looked over the precipice where the footfalls led. It appeared that a landslide had taken the edge of the cliff down, dropped it into what appeared to be a lake of bubbling hot mud in the jungle below. "I'm not sure how much luck we'll have following it."

"Have we lost him?"

Elos looked at Okella. She rustled slightly, her eyes began to open. "...Not quite yet."

It was lucky that Pek always kept a set of spiked chains and manacles. He was once a jailor, once a torturer's assistant... until the profession had grown too bleak.

Now he watched the young girl Okella lead the way forward, her chains loudly clicking together as they dragged through the mud, as the child trudged through terrain that went up to her knees, through brambles and vines which almost consumed her.

Elos nodded in amusement. "I almost feel bad to treat her this way; she looks like a child."

"...But?"

"But she's not. She's likely been alive for hundreds of years. Is that not correct, Okella?"

"Nn..." she groaned at first, fighting through the Antithesis, the heat, and the mud all at once. The sunlight gleamed across her face, gave an almost magical luminescence to her blue hair. "No."

Elos raised his brows. "No? How old are you?"

"I don't... I don't know."

"Is the child's body not just a facsimile, something to mock humanity and lure them to you? The perfect form of innocence... is it not?"

"...What's perfect about me?" she muttered.

Elos and Pek exchanged a glance. Then Elos began toward her.

Pek said, "Wait. She could be lying."

"What would she have to gain by lying? We're already subduing her power. She can only lash out as a child would, and I don't predict she will in this situation." Elos knelt down beside her, placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her in place. "Will you?"

Okella only grimaced, glared, gnashed her teeth at the man. Her muddy face showed no signs of compliance. But that answer was good enough for Elos, who plucked her manacles apart. The girl rubbed her reddened wrists.

"Apologies. We still haven't a clue exactly how we should treat your kind. Would you tell us a thing or two, maybe we can get on the same page? Are you hungry?"

"...No."

"Okay. Do you need to use the bathroom?"

Okella scowled harder.

"Sorry, sorry. I just don't know where the similarities begin and where they end. Can you enlighten me at all as to how this form works?"

"...It's just a shape," she finally managed to squeak, "I could be a dragon, I could be a girl... But I'm just pure energy. I was created..." she sniffled, "I was created by Ivalié. He made me..."

Elos cast a wary glance to Pek who shrugged witlessly. Then he patted her on the back, gentle as he could manage. "There, there. If you help us catch this character we're trailing, we'll help you get revenge on this... Ivalié character."

"I don't want revenge," her voice shook.

Elos raised his eyebrows. "Very well. Freedom, then. You help us find the man running from us, and I promise you I'll set you free."

Okella's eyes darted up to Elos with fury — she detected the lie.

"Oh dear," he laughed. He pulsed his Antithesis and her glare grew fatigued.

Then he picked the manacles back up from the mud, clasped them tight again around her wrist.

"It was worth a shot." He shrugged, shambling back over to Pek. Okella continued her trudge onward.

"It's hot," said Pek, wiping his brow.

"Indeed it is," agreed Elos. "Let's hope we find the next rift, and far before heat stroke takes either one of us."

"Aye. Let's hope."

And onward they continued, onward toward the blazing, setting sun. And with the sun, they prayed, the heat would go too...