Aina thinks of herself as a boring girl.

This is not a sign of self-criticism, ironic or otherwise, like her friend Ryz is prone to. Aina know a caustic tongue and mind can help one to survive on Midworld as much as it can endanger them. She does not wish for such traits.

Aina is thankful to Vhaarn for being boring, and hopes to never change.

(She will. Hopes for good things are dashed almost as often as fears of suffering are made reality)

Exciting lives, she thinks, are dangerous and short. Take her parents, for one. They left Copper's Cradle, a perfectly safe, habitable island, to explore the sea, not in search of other islands to live on after disaster inevitably struck, but out of boredom. Life on the Cradle, they claimed, had become too predictable, wearing on them.

Aina only knows these things from the other islanders. She has never met her parents, whose names are never spoken, for they are cursed as reckless fools, wasting their lives when their fellows could have use them. Even her family name is unknown.

Aina is thankful for that, too. There are many Midworlders without family names! Why, some who do have one often have exciting lives, too, and Aina does not want that. She wants to live, for as long as she can.

As she, Ryzhan and the other children(the adults, save for the elderly or weak, who serve as foremen in the mines, are always on the lookout for raiders or animals, when they are not helping the mages with their rituals) search for the metal that gives their island its name, Aina muses that Ryz has a family name, like her parents used to do.

A hand rises to tug at her short, sky-blue hair-a nervous tick the adults have tried to beat out of her, for it annoys them, to no avail. She prays again, asking Lord Vhaarn to watch over Ryzhan, too, and give him a boring life as well.

Aina doubts Ryzhan will ever do something reckless, though. His parents scare him too much for him to be stupid, and beat him more than enough.

***

Aina knows, like all Vhaarnists do, that, in the beginning, before time and space, matter and magic, life and death, there was nothing except for Vhaarn and his brother, Fhaalqi. Vhaarn wanted to create, because he was lonely in the void with only his cruel, mocking brother for company. He created the infinite waters and islands of Midworld, as well as the endless stars above, and the sun and moon, always visible from everywhere on Midworld, regardless of distance. Their light is boundless without destroying everything through limitless energy, for Vhaarn willed it so. Midworld's moon does not reflect the light of its sun, as mundane moons in the heavens above do; its light is its own, despite some claiming it to be a mere sphere of rock.

Others have claimed the moon to be made of silver light and magic, though all who try to reach it, or speak and think too much of it, disappear. Or, worse, the moon looks into them, and laughs, and they laugh too, never stopping, until the chains Vhaarn wrapped around the shape of his creations break, and they become every monster ever imagined, and some that have never been.

Fhaalqi scoffed when his brother first began creating things, and sought to oppose him, as he had in all their contests in the void. So was created entropy, decay, as things were worn down by time or the elements, and became lesser, until they faded away. Vhaarn then created animals, and Fhaalqi was pleased he did not try to instill his beliefs into them, instead leaving them instinct.

After innumerable years, Vhaarn sought to create something more, like him and his brother, if lesser, and Fhaalqi agreed. That was how the Tetrarha, able to shift between states of matter, came to be; the Gzaalnokhs, who shaped the world by thought without possessing mana, bodies or souls; the Yvharnii, with their love for learning, and countless more.

Humans, too. No natural advantages over other thinking beings, save for the potential for magic even some animals had.

Whenever a species became too virtuous, or too vile, they were destroyed, by their enemies of by natural disasters, though some saw the Twin Gods in everything, and proclaimed they merely sought to keep each other in check whenever one gained too much of an advantage.

Aina was not particularly inclined, at the moment, to give a damn about religious intricacies. Midworld's religions rarely tended towards complexity, anyhow, as most of its inhabitants lived short, rough lives, and only believed enough to make sure there was a place for them to go after death, and gods or spirits to help them before it.

No, Aina was thinking about the creation of the world because, having heard it so often in her short, short life, it represented stability, familiarity, in her young mind. And she...she needed all t-the stability she could....g-get-

The moon wasn't looking away. Aina had hoped not becoming a lunatic, a term which meant far worse on Midworld than on the alien worlds that spun around stars, would cause it to become bored and leave her be, mind whole, if terrified and scarred irreparably.

It had not. Her resistance had, if anything, made it more curious, and more of its attention was on her than had been on any mortal for centuries. In fact, if Aina listened to the call of the void(the moon, the moon, a jagged, cracked corner of her mind corrected, laughing breathlessly) she could feel something more than its all-seeing, unblinking gaze.

Something like...

-a sMIlE-

But the moon was not smiling anymore. Aina was. Her face had become just as white and round as the silver sphere, bloating as her throat thickened, voice becoming simultaneously thick and choked, and shrill, sharp enough to make ears bleed, fit to speak words that meant nothing, so all they passed over became nothing.

But Aina was not smiling anymore. She was laughing, in time with the moon's voiceless, wordless call.

Ryzhan finds the creature while its shape is still roughly human, sitting-no, crouching-on the shore of the lake they always met to talk, and laugh, and...

Ryzhan's heart bleeds, literally, as it turns to grin at him. His eyes boil in their sockets, while his arcane sense gibbers to itself, trying to limit his perception, protect his human mind as much as it can.

Good, Ryzhan thinks, grinning with cracked teeth. No reason to let a present that should not be distract him from a beautiful past.

Ryzhan accepts the creature's embrace, though it makes his bones wrap around each other under flesh that shrivels like parchment, and turns his blood into dust the colour of old rust. He does not care about this. He, through instinct, arcane sense or Vhaarn's blessing, recognises this is, used to be(will become, once more, he swears to himself) his friend.

Ryzhan wraps his arms around it, and kisses what had been its mouth. Clumsily, as any boy his age would; lovingly, as only he would.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

And, all the while, his newly-awakened magic churns through the creature's body, turning it back into a little girl that has always wanted a quiet life, as Ryzhan remembers Aina.

She gasps when her wits return to her, unfamiliar in her own old body. Her shock only lasts a few moments, as she sees Ryzhan fall on broken knees, using the last of his strength to raise a twitching, trembling hand, telling her to stay way.

Then, he remembers himself before the creature touched him, and heals.

It is not a gentle process. It will not be for many, many years. But, even though it is almost as painful as the mangling itself, Ryzhan remains silent, biting his tongue in half when it threatens to let a scream slip past. He spits the half on the long grass along with the blood, to prevent choking on it. It would be a thoroughly pathetic death, worthy of those dark stories he never liked, where the hero returned home victorious from adventure or battle, only to die shamefully, stabbed by a drunkard in a dark alley, or falling off a bridge.

When Ryzhan's body heals, he is not happy for it. Oh, he is thankful, of course; to Vhaarn, for allowing him to do one more good deed, this time for a person better than himself; to his magic, for being good enough. He is, however, far more appreciative of the way Aina wraps herself around him, hugging him so hard it almost hurts. He wishes she would not cry, though, and tells her so.

'Why?' she manages to rasp, eventually, deep purple eyes staring into his sharp green ones.

'I am leaving tonight,' he replies, the meagre confidence he built up shattering in the face of her sadness. The guilt in his voice cannot hide his savage joy at finally, finally paying his parents back, though. 'And I do not want my last memory of you to be sad.'

Aina swallows like she is about to break into tears, or perhaps go mad, again. She will talk him out of it after he stops being so damned dense, though. 'No. Why did you tell me to...stop...?'

'Because...' Ryzhan tries to be charming, to push a strand of hair behind one of her ears, to tell her she is too beautiful to cry. 'You're pretty,' he finishes awkwardly, after almost poking one of her eyes out, and stammering apologies. Aina laughs, slapping his wringing hands away.

'I did something...' Ryzhan almost says "bad", before shaking his head. 'Something our people will judge harshly. I cannot remain, or they will kill me-at best. I...I would not want you to see that, Aina.'

She does not agree. Ryzha, perhaps taking her silence and slack expression as understanding, gently pushes her away and turns his back on her, beginning his walk towards the docks.

After five steps, he feels the earth tremble underfoot. Earthquake? Tide? Another reason to get away.

After another five, the earth rises and wraps around his boots, rooting him in place. Ryzhan turns, baffled, and screams to see the moon creature in Aina's place, once more.

'Please, Ryz,' it says in his friend's voice, and, through his haze of panic(half at the other islanders hunting him down after finding his parents, half at this thing being back), Ryzhan realises the unnatural effects caused by its earlier unsounds are gone. Its face, too, is softer-beautiful, actually. Aina's features, wrought from silver light, and an equally-luminous body. 'Do not leave me.'

Ryzhan almost glances at the moon himself, wondering if he's gone mad without being aware, and stops himself before doing something so suicidally stupid. In the back of his head, he hears a deep, inhuman laugh.

'You saved me, when everyone knows not to stare into the light too long, lest they become monsters; I did it because...because I had nothing else to do, I suppose,' Aina laughs self-deprecatingly, and Ryzhan cracks a smile, though his eyes are on the horizon, alert for signs of torches and spells cast in rage.

'Don't you always tell me to stay away from exciting things?' He quips, and she shrugs, chuckling sadly.

'Seems I'm better at giving advice than taking it. I...I did not deserve to be saved from such a stupid fate, Ryz. Please, do not leave,' she repeats, clasping her hands in front of her. 'Together, maybe we can convince them not to...'

Ryzhan turns away, remembering being free to walk, and suddenly is. 'I'm sorry, Aina. But I will not die for you.'

When Ryzhan breaks into a run, it is the moon creature he hears roaring, amidst his friend's pleas for him to remain. Reality cracks around him, but, he notices, Aina does not harm him, or even try to stop him. Not even once.

Years later, when a proud Ghyrrian swordsman looks into his mind, he will not see his memory. Ryzhan will force himself to forget, not from fear of going mad, but from guilt of hurting his friend.

And so, Ryzhan Yldii reaches the docks, steals a boat, and sets off on his journey of Midworld, while running away from pursuers he only imagines.

For that night, in her grief, the monster that has become half of Aina takes over, harnessing her grief and newly-awakened magic, meant for shaping the world, and combining them with its own. That night, the nameless island inhabited by the people of lost Copper's Cradle does not sink: it folds and crumples onto itself, as does reality around it, allowing for the things behind the curtain of what is to reach through, and grasp at the panicked humans.

Aina is spared, for she is the worst monster, and predators avoid rivals.

However, when she comes to, finding herself standing on water in the middle of the sea, and realises she let Ryzhan go, and allowed the monster to kill her people, she wishes the monster had taken her, too.

She sets out on a journey of her own, far more attuned to the world than Ryzhan will be for years, shaping the elements, space and time with her will, moving them as if they were additional limbs. She meets many strange people while searching for her lost friend. The Swordsaint and the Bladefiend, who see her monstrous guise for what it is, and train her to control it, just as the Swordsaint helped her wife shackle her worst impulses, after she freed it from the fate meant to keep a bloodthirsty monster; Mendax, who sees creation as the punchline to a joke only it knows, and who makes her feel almost normal. A little, dark-skinned man in colourful clothes, who makes her laugh and cry with tricks whose nature even her inhuman senses cannot discern.

Finally, she meets the Clockwork King and the Weaver Queen, who welcome her. Just another strange being in their shared domain, another traveler who has lost her home. They understand, and sympathise, for they have done far worse, and not by mistake. There, they promise, she can search and study all she wants, while she waits for Ryzhan, or until she finds her way back to him.