The place called “Memory Lane” is simply described as “The place where the past is stored.” It is another plane of existence, whenever a moment passes it goes to Memory Lane. People can bring themselves to Memory Lane through a process similar to astral projection. There they can see the past unfold before their very eyes.
However, there is a catch. One can only view the parts of the past that they personally witnessed. Meaning one can only view moments from their own life. Though in Cyreen’s case, she knew the right spell to bring Lavor into Memory Lane with her. Allowing him to see her past as well.
Once the spell was cast, Lavor found himself standing in a white void. Pure white with not a feature to be seen. Cyreen grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, he now saw a scene from Cyreen’s past. A cabin decorated with all manner of occult items yet also furnished enough to make a proper home. A young girl is standing before an elderly witch who is sitting in a chair. Everything that did not look to be in view of the young girl is overtaken by the white void, those were the only parts she witnessed so that’s all they can see.
“I assume that’s you?” Lavor said as he pointed towards the girl.
“Yup. I was thirteen then. This woman is mistress Grei, the leader of my coven. While I was raised communally by the other witches, I always was closer to her.” Cyreen said as the scene began to play out.
“Young Cyreen, you wish to begin training in witchcraft. You understand what this means for you yes?” Grei asked.
“Your coven saved me, you found me and my parents stranded in the swamp and stricken with illness when I was just seven years old. While you weren’t able to save my mother and father, I hold nothing against any of you for it. The coven accepted me and raised me when so many others scoffed at my lineage. I will be forever thankful to the coven and I do not feel I can ever repay that thanks without truly knowing your ways.” Young Cyreen said.
“And you know this will make you a target for all of our enemies.” Grei said.
“From the moment I was born, an entire culture was my enemy. I can have a few more.” Young Cyreen said.
“That’s my girl. We’ll begin your training. From this moment on, your name is Cyreen Swampblood.” Grei said with a smile.
The scene then changed, Cyreen’s spell was manipulating where they were in Memory Lane. The scene before them was now much more recent. The Cyreen they saw was not even a full year younger than the current one. The frozen scene they saw was one much more grim.
Cyreen was lying on the ground, bruised and bleeding from an arrow sticking into her leg. Standing over her are several people wearing leather dusters and covered in holy paraphernalia. They’re well armed and all are wearing kettle hats made of silver. Lavor had heard of them but never seen these people in person.
Witch hunters, a once proud group of religious warriors dedicated to purging evil magics from the world. Now they’ve devolved into a hate group who go after anyone practicing magic they view as evil. Witchcraft being among the top of their list. Their goals and morals were muddled by time and misinterpretation, now they only spread fear.
“You were caught by witch hunters?” Lavor asked.
“They were scouting out our coven. Seeking to attack it even though the coven did nothing to harm innocents. We could tell they were coming and we didn’t have the numbers to fight them off. We used magic to pack up our homes and cover our escape, but one of them got a lucky shot.” Cyreen said as Lavor glanced at the arrow in the other Cyreen’s leg. “The coven couldn’t have saved me without revealing themselves, we all agreed beforehand that survival of the coven was above all else. If someone had to be left behind, so be it.”
The scene began to play out. One witch hunter who looked far better equipped than the others stepped forward to the battered Cyreen. He kneeled down and grabbed Cyreen by her shirt. She was clearly in bad shape, they had been doing this for a while.
“This is your last chance shitblood. Where did your coven go?” the witch hunter leader demanded.
“I once was ready to fully embrace death at age seven. There isn’t anything you can do to me that I haven’t already been through.” Cyreen said weakly.
“We’re not getting anything out of her boss. Should we just kill her?” a hunter asked.
“No, she’s our only lead on the Swampbloods and we’ve been trying to get them for years. She doesn’t die until we can get the rest of her damn coven to join her. She just needs to be persuaded with our tried and true method.” The leader said as he threw her to the ground.
“You heard the man, get them out here!” one of the hunters yelled.
Some hunters walk into view carrying a large wooden object shaped like the letter Y, They drag Cyreen over to it and tie her to it with her arms stretched out above her head. Some hunters dressed in more magelike attire sat beside her and rolled up her sleeves. They both pull out ornate knives that look like they were tipped with a spike instead of a blade. They began chanting some incantation as their tools and the object Cyreen is tied to begin to glow blue.
The two of them then carved what Lavor recognizes as the magic seal onto her arms. Cyreen is screaming in pain the entire time and the seals are bleeding intensely. They finish carving and the seals glow much brighter, Cyreen shouts once again as Lavor hears the wounds being seared shut from the seal. With their job done they untied her and walked away, Cyreen is too weak to move as the leader pulls out a scroll and reads something in what Lavor recognized as the demon language.
A portal formed nearby and out stepped a familiar face to Lavor. Saminedd, who is Deinia’s most loyal follower. He’s small for a demon, but has the strength of one three times his size. He was shaped like a man with a triangular armored head devoid of any facial features, he stands on four strong legs that end in chitinous blades, and his two arms end in hands with three massive claws. Lavor knew he despised mortals, so he wonders how he allowed one to learn how to call upon him.
“Jortam, it has been a while.” Saminedd said.
“You know I would never call upon you unless I had something to offer.” Jortam said as he gestured to Cyreen weakly looking up from the ground. “This witch refuses to tell us where the rest of her heretical coven went. She is our only lead.”
“I’ll have her talking within a week. Do you care what I do to her afterwards?” Saminedd asked.
“When have we ever?” Jortam said with a smile as Saminedd picked up Cyreen.
“A half-elf too? She’ll be useful later. They’re hard to come by down there and I have a lot of things that haven’t been tested on her kind yet.” Saminedd said as he slung Cyreen over her shoulder.
“Contact me once you discover their location.” Jortam said.
“That was the deal.” Saminedd said as he stepped back through the portal.
The scene froze, Cyreen stood in silence. Lavor looked at the arms that once belonged to her. Now it all made sense to him. Why else would she be so willing to get rid of these.
“That’s why I found you in the dungeon. I had ran down there because I knew of a secret escape route in one of the cells. It was ordered to remain empty at all times, they must have put you there by accident.” Lavor said.
“And when you opened the way I followed you out. You let me come because you needed someone familiar with the mortal world so you could hide there.” Cyreen said.
“How long were you in the dungeon?” Lavor asked.
“Three days, too many.” Cyreen said.
“What happened to your coven?” Lavor asked.
“I never got to find them. I stuck with you the entire time afterwards, remember? I want to go rejoin them, but I owe you my life and their lives as well. I’m not leaving until I repay you. I can’t communicate with them using magic or mail either, the messages might be intercepted and expose them. So while it pains me to let them keep thinking I’m dead, it’s the only way I can ensure the coven stays safe. I hope to find a secure way to talk here in Grict.” Cyreen said.
“How noble for such a wretched being to say.” said a voice that made Cyreen’s heart skip a beat.
They both turned towards the voice and to their horror they see Jortam standing on the other side of the scene. That’s the one risk of Memory Lane, anyone else viewing a memory in the same time and place is visible. He must have been observing his memories at the same time. Thankfully it is impossible to be harmed here so the most they can do is exchange words.
“What the fuck are you doing here!?” Cyreen said, clearly enraged at the sight of the man.
“Observing this scene for any clues that could lead us to your coven. Saminedd told us you escaped with Lavor so I’ve been coming back here often to find if I missed anything. I see you’ve gotten rid of our seals, pity we have to put them on your arms and not your neck.” Jortam said.
“Cyreen get us out of here.” Lavor said as Cyreen prepared the withdrawal spell..
“It’s fabulous to hear you’re in Grict! We’re not far off from the place ourselves. Though I will warn you Swampblood, we won’t be so kind next time.” Jortam said with a smug expression.
Lavor and Cyreen both jolted awake in their chairs. Cyreen stood up and began pacing around the cramped office clutching her head. Lavor couldn’t tell if she was worried or angry, he felt she was most likely both. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but he was having trouble finding the words.
Lavor knew he should be as worried as her. Jortam will likely tell this to Saminedd who will then tell Deinia. He knew now they will have both witch hunters and hostile demons converging on this city. They should leave right now, but could they? A demon prince and a witch with demon arms will draw a lot of attention, they got lucky with the cruise ship and that hypnotized crew member will warn them all about them once the spell wears off. No way they will be able to stow away on anything in time. Lavor heard thunder outside and it quickly began to rain. He walked over to Cyreen and gently placed a hand on what was once his shoulder.
“They made a mistake Cyreen. They gave us time to prepare. Let’s make them regret it.” Lavor said with a smile.
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Vaughn looked at the rain as it fell against the window. This motel he rented was cheap, he has to make his money last since he doesn’t know how long he will be in this city. Vaughn had a rather hefty supply of money, though nearly all of it was stolen. He had gotten a good sum of cash from helping various criminal groups since he can easily supply any crew with numerous expendable members. Vaughn didn’t want to be hired muscle, but he had little choice.
He was from a town formerly known as Pimsaal. An old town deep in a mountain range a continent away. Due to numerous factors like financial troubles, natural disasters, and time. The town is as far as legality is concerned, nonexistent. Pimsaal hasn’t shown up on a map decades before Vaughn was even born. These little “Non-Places” that don’t exist are a terrible place to grow up.
A good chunk of the people in them are runaways, homeless, and fugitives. Those are the lucky ones because it implies somewhere in the world is a place that recognizes them as a person. For those born there, they are worse off. Most grow up without ever interacting with organized society, becoming part of one is an expensive and lengthy legal process that is near impossible for them to go through alone. Vaughn couldn’t get a job, he couldn't legally own property, he couldn't even collect unemployment checks. His only option to get money was crime, so that’s what he did. And he was good at it.
Vaughn looked away from the window as he took one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it in an ashtray and walking towards the bed. He passed one of his more dangerous reanimations, a ventriloquist holding a dummy shaped like a well dressed troll. Howard was a talented ventriloquist when he lived and toured the world doing his act wherever he could. It wasn’t until after his death that the world realized he had also been a serial killer and his tools of choice were a myriad of concealed weapons inside his dummy. Forty people were killed by his hand and no one found out until they went through his stuff after he died from a drug overdose. Now this snapshot of him in his prime serves Vaughn. It’s his job to guard the room while Vaughn sleeps.
Vaughn wasn’t expecting trouble, but he sure wasn’t going to be unprepared for it. He wouldn’t put it past Tsilo to send a construct to spy on him. Meaning anyone could come to him and get Vaughn's location. At least he might be cautious about it since he did try to spy on him before and Vaughn quickly put an end to it.
Vaughn removed his balaclava, hat, and glasses as he looked at himself in the mirror. His black hair always had a perpetual bedhead look no matter how much he combed it. He wondered if it was genetic, or because of how he never actually got hold of a comb until he was eighteen. He opened his mouth, amazed at how he still had all his teeth after all he’s been through.
Vaughn undressed and fell onto the bed, tired from the day. He was still surprised he started it lying next to two lizardfolk. Looking at himself and realizing he’s survived his life had him feeling a tad nostalgic. It has been a very long while for him since he last visited Memory Lane, with a short spell he decided to stop by.
Vaughn looked at various parts of his childhood. Father nowhere to be found, mother died giving birth, and no other actual family to speak of. He was raised by a sort of schoolteacher figure. An adult who raised many abandoned children and taught them basic things. It was with them that Vaughn met someone he considered his sister.
A tiefling girl by the name of Seron who bonded with him. Seron claimed her mother was some demonic politician, she was sent here as a way to cover up her mother’s affair with her father who later committed suicide when she was ten. She resented her mother for this and every day of her life she dreamed of becoming strong enough to find her and as she said: “Kick her in her demon snatch!” It always made Vaughn laugh when she said it.
Vaughn moved the memories to his teenage years. Seron’s demonic nature gave her a natural affinity for magic. She had managed to teach some to Vaughn who even from a young age was interested in necromancy. He watched his younger self resurrect a dead squirrel for the first time. This made the other youths envious.
Non-Places often have gangs in them as a way to protect people. There was one person the same age as Vaughn, a half-orc named Joseph. He used his gang mostly as an excuse to bully those his age and younger. Though he was not above using them to rob some newcomer of their things, or their lives if needed.
He and Vaughn did not get along. Vaughn was the only youth in the town who knew necromancy and he was getting good at it fast. Joseph saw Vaughn and Seron as a threat to his power and Vaughn knew this. It was incredibly easy to get revenge on him with necromancy. Send a resurrected squirrel to steal some of their food, put reanimated birds around his hideout to call at all times of the night, and make the animal they just hunted stand back up and run off into the woods before they can cook it. One time Seron even put a curse on a talisman of bone Vaughn made and they hid it in their hideout. They had nightmares for a week before they found it.
Vaughn arrived at a familiar memory from his childhood. There was a structure not far from the town, no one knew what it was for or how it got there but it had been there prior to the town existing. It looked like a combination of a skyscraper and a ziggurat. It was as tall as one of those giant radio towers one can find in the middle of nowhere, around 400 feet or so. The sides of it are made of a light brown and rust red stone. There are no bricks, it looks like it was all carved out of one solid piece somehow.
There was a trail leading up to a small room at its base, the room was only ten square feet in size. Right in the middle of the floor in the room is a circle containing various odd symbols that always seemed to glow a light blue. Stepping on it teleported them to the top of the tower. Once up there one will realize the entire inside of the tower is hollow, just a straight drop down. It was never bright enough to see what was at the bottom, it went deeper than the ground it was built on too.
Vaughn had a strange fascination with that tower, the reason why always escaped him. He would often go to the top and look out at the view of the mountains. There wasn’t another town or city visible from up there. The most he would ever see is a stray helicopter or airplane. Seron wouldn’t step foot up there, she was never good with heights. It was always Vaughn alone up there, save for when some poor soul would venture to the top so they could throw themselves off the ledge. Even then they always jumped off the outside edge, never into the pit.
Vaughn was sixteen in the memory his current self was viewing. His messy barely-washed hair blowing in the breeze as he looked out across the mountains. Then he heard a voice, it was Joseph. He had followed him there with one of his cronies.
“You have a deathwish coming up on this thing Vaughn!?” Joseph said angrily as he grabbed Vaughn by his tattered shirt.
“I know you’re mad, but you could end up throwing us both off over the side. The wind can pick up at any moment!” Vaughn said.
“I don’t care. You and that cunt of a sister have been annoying me for too long!” Joseph said.
“All because we didn’t join your gang all those years ago. You wouldn’t let us be, so we had to strike back! You forced our hands!” Vaughn pleaded.
“No, I’ve had it with your bullshit. FIRST YOU! THEN HER!” Joseph shouted before throwing Vaughn into the pit.
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Vaughn didn’t scream as he fell because he was so stunned with fear. He fell down into the tower, the light from above slowly shrinking and shrinking as he went deeper. Vaughn was sad to die. Not because he died so young or because he wouldn't see Seron again, but because he had lived a life where he was robbed of any sort of meaning merely because he was born there. Vaughn blacked out from the panic, thinking at least he wouldn’t have to feel the hit.
Then he opened his eyes, he wasn’t falling anymore. He was lying on something soft, it felt like grass. He saw glowing red strands all around him, almost with a neon glow to them. Vaughn tried to sit up, but his chest responded with a piercing pain. He lied back down panting as he gently touched his chest, he may have broken something. Vaughn decided this meant he didn’t die, no afterlife would randomly give him an injury he never had in life.
His eyes adjusted to the dim garden he found himself in. The plants not glowing are a dark red. He could see trees above him, some bearing glowing fruit. Then he heard something walking through the grass, Vaughn tried to turn and get a look but the pain convinced him otherwise. Soon he saw an older woman standing above him and looking down.
A dark skinned woman wearing a yellow sleeveless shirt that slightly exposed her stomach. The strange thing about her shirt is it looks like it was supposed to be a skirt, but someone cut out the front and back, leaving only the sides. Yet it looked like it was intentionally made this way. She wore a similarly colored pair of yellow pants and looked at Vaughn through a pair of round red glasses.
“I see you are hurt, but alive.” She said with a thick accent Vaughn had never heard before.
“Who are you, where am I?” Vaughn asked weakly.
“The bottom of the Goddess’s Bottle. That’s what that tower is called according to my research. My magics and the foliage here broke your otherwise fatal fall, but it looks like you might have had a rough landing anyway. It was like that for me too.” she said as she sat down next to him. “As for who I am. Call me Sumeria, mistress of forbidden necromantic arts.”
“You’re a necromancer?” Vaughn asked.
“I am a pioneer in necromancy. Don’t think I can’t smell the necro-fumes emanating from you and your unwashed self.” She said.
“Necro-fumes? Are those a thing?” Vaughn asked.
“It’s what I call it anyway. Here, let me get something for your pain.” She said as she walked away.
Sumeria returned with one of the glowing fruits that Vaughn could now see are pear-shaped. She told Vaughn to take a bite and held it out for him to grab. Vaughn was unsure about eating this random fruit he knew nothing about, but it’s not like he was in any position to refuse help. Vaughn took a bite of the incredibly soft fruit, it tasted like bananas and citrus.
He immediately felt strange, His body was tingling and the pain was being dulled. Vaughn was able to sit up and breathe easy. He looked around to the dimly lit forest around him and only saw more glowing flora. He looked up and saw a thick canopy stopping any light from above getting in. He turned towards Sumeria who was crouching beside him.
“What was that? I’ve never seen plants like this before.” Vaughn asked.
“Results of a seed sent here from another world. These plants kill worlds, overgrowing and choking the life out of whatever place they find. Thick canopies that block out the sun and wither everything beneath so they may feast on the corpse of whatever resided on that world. The result is fruit that is filled with life energy, your injuries should heal in a few days if you keep munching on these.” She said.
Vaughn looked around at the plants and the grass he sat on nervously. “Are you saying these plants will kill me!?”
“No, something went wrong with these. Something on our planet is halting their growth and taming its aggression. A goddess bottled this place up with the tower, both to stop it from expanding and to preserve these unique plants. I’ve survived for a long time down here, they weren’t made to handle things like us.” She said.
“How long have you been down here?” Vaughn asked.
“I don’t know, it's hard to keep track of time down here. Pretty sure it’s been a few years though.” She said.
“Well, I need to get out. I have someone waiting for me back in town, she might be in danger! I need to get to her quickly!” Vaughn said as he tried to stand up but felt the pain was still too great.
“When was the last time you slept? You were out for hours before you woke up. I have someone I resurrected watching over the town, I can see through if you want me to check.” She said.
“Please! I need to see if she’s okay! She’s the tiefling girl around my age!” Vaughn asked.
“Okay, let me focus….” Sumeria said as she sat down and closed her eyes. “She’s fine. She…. The situation’s been resolved, I can tell that much.”
“I need to get out of here. Let her know I’m alive.” Vaughn said as he struggled to sit up.
“Good luck with that. You’ll never be able to climb back up with your pitiful magics.” She said.
“Can you?” Vaughn asked.
“Indeed I can.” She said.
“Then why haven't you escaped?” Vaughn asked,
“Because down here is a place of death unlike anything in the world above. Here, I have been able to tap into necromantic energies never before seen!” She said.
“Graves and battlefields are the best places for that. What can a hidden garden of death plants teach you?” Vaughn said.
Sumeria held out her arm and turned it over. There is a leather brace on her forearm holding a long piece of blue metal. Etched into the metal are various symbols that Vaughn knew were associated with necromancy. With her other arm she pulled out a short metal stick with a grip from a knife. She struck the knife against the metal in a forward motion as if she were trying to shave it off. Purple sparks flew out and seemed to float in the air and multiplied, more and more sparks seemed to appear until something dropped out of the sparking mass.
A man who was clearly a construction worker had appeared. His body and clothes were black and white. He stood motionless with blank eyes and holding a heavy wrench in his hands. Sumeria stood beside him with a grin.
“I have just resurrected a whole man with nothing but my own will and my magic. No corpse or anything.” she said.
Vaughn looked at this memory and skipped ahead a good while. He knew Sumeria would impart her teachings onto him. She had a talent for teaching in his opinion, then again she’s only the second teacher he ever had. Still, he admired her skills. He continued to skim through the memories.
Sumeria had developed the technique all on her own. Ancient necromancer philosophers allegedly always theorized something like this was possible, but none of them ever found a place to develop it. That hidden garden soaked with the death of other worlds, it was what allowed her to make it a reality. For two years, Vaughn learned all she had developed.
However, she couldn’t see it reach its full potential. She told Vaughn that she had a genetic disease that was terminal and no such treatment for it exists due to it being so rare. She had tried for years to develop this necromancy, but it was only after she accepted her eventual death that she was able to make it reality. That was the major requirement for learning this technique. One has to accept a premature death as Vaughn did. Sure he was disappointed in his life at the time, but he was ready for death regardless.
At the end of those two years in the pit, Vaughn buried Sumeria when she finally succumbed to her fate. He kept her glasses as a memento of his teacher. With the magics he now knew, he summoned one of his teacher’s minions who climbed up the side of the pit with Vaughn on his back. For the first time in two years, Vaughn saw sunlight.
Vaughn stood on top of the Goddess’s Bottle, experiencing the breeze and view he had craved for so long. Then he looked down and saw the dilapidated town of Pimsaal and noticed it was in significantly worse condition than he last remembered. He quickly made his way down the tower and into town. Hoping that whatever disaster that struck had at least spared Seron.
The town looked as if a tornado had ravaged it. Vaughn saw bodies wearing familiar clothes belonging to his neighbors, they had already decayed into skeletons. Whatever happened here, it was not long after he had fallen into the bottle. Vaughn called out for anyone left but no one answered.
He made his way to the now collapsed shack that he and Seron had stayed in. There was a slab of concrete propped against a stone that wasn't there last time he was here. Etched into it was a message. He recognized it as Seron’s handwriting.
“This town was once called Pimsaal. After a gang killed my brother, I was overcome with rage and harnessed a hidden magic within me. I do not entirely know what I did, but when I calmed down I found the town destroyed and nearly everyone dead. I’m sorry if you knew anyone here.”
Vaughn looked inside the remains of the shack, all of his old stuff was there but all of Seron’s were gone. She had fled the town, yet Vaughn had no way to track her. So once again he was alone. Then he looked at the book Sumeria had given him that contained her instructions. He may be alone, but now he has a purpose. He will see the heights of this power that Sumeria couldn’t.
Vaughn decided he had seen enough and returned to the real world. He still hasn’t been able to find Seron. Just like him, she had no last name. Seron was also apparently a rather common name among tieflings. Vaughn focused only on his goal of expanding his power, that remained his single purpose in life. Yet, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t give to find her again.
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Yara was out of breath in the bathroom, she had finished hauling the two large people into the bathtub. She wanted to cut off the limbs and heads to make them easier to carry, but that would just make a bigger mess for her to clean up. She caught her breath and grasped her staff. Now she will make these corpses vanish.
Crystals grew out from their bodies, more of the odd latticework she always conjured. Soon their bodies were entirely encased by the crystals. She turned on the water to fill up the tub before leaving to get a bag she had left on a table. While out setting up the large man’s mysterious disappearance, she stopped by a store to grab a specific substance. She pulled out a large jug of powdered milk.
For reasons neither she nor her understood, the crystals react oddly to powdered milk and water. They dissolve and turn into a powerful but short lived corrosive. It eats through anything organic for a time before becoming completely harmless. Yara made sure to remove any non-organic items from their bodies before doing this, once the tub was full she turned off the water and held out the jug. She poured the powdered milk into the tub and quickly began to hear it sizzle.
Yara quickly left the room since it would take a good while for it to break down the bodies. As fancy as the apartment was, it only had one bathroom. At least she took a shower this morning. She looked out at the night sky between the buildings.
She felt a strange sense of wonder from looking out at the bright lights of the city. It has been a long time since she simply enjoyed the view. She wondered how long she had been since she started doing this. Chasing after her, murdering, assuming fake identities, and wearing that mask.
She pulled off her mask after realizing she had not taken it off since she showed her face to Tsilo. She had no reason to keep wearing it, no one else was here. Her face was unusual for sure, none of the bounty postings could even work out what species she is. Then she remembered why she always wore it.
“You’re no longer a person anymore. The only face that matters is the one I give you.” Her words echoed in Yara’s mind from a distant memory. “Do not sympathize with people, they are your enemy. See them only as tools and nothing else. Wear this mask to stop anyone from thinking you are like them.”
Yara stared at the mask, so many bad memories from it. Yet she could never bring herself to destroy it. The mask was one of the only aspects of an identity she had left. Only when Yara has finally found closure can she allow herself to destroy the mask.
Though for now she put the mask on a countertop before raiding the kitchen for any food. The freezer was found to have an oven pizza inside of it. Yara wasn’t in the mood to cook so she set the oven to heat up to cook it. She sat down on a recliner and stared at a blank TV.
That mask has gotten her thinking about her time with her. Yara quickly turned on the TV to push those thoughts away. Those memories only bring torment and rage. She never enjoyed the torment, but the rage was better suited for another time. Until then, those memories would be put aside.
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Hictor lay on the fold out bed as the sound of rain and thunder could be heard. He thanked the gods that this room had no leaks. He had taken off his labcoat and his goggles. In one hand he clutched the odd crystal which he had detached from the device.
“You could try to summon one from an alternate world.” another voice in the room said.
“No, these crystals are exempt from alternate reality laws. This is the only crystal of this shape that exists in reality. I’m sure others of different shapes are out there, but who the fuck knows where.” Hictor said as he stared at the ceiling.
“How did you even find it?” the voice asked.
“One of my former summons from the Astral Valley gave it to me. I drew him to me and when he appeared, he was holding it. He claimed his hands were free before he was summoned. Naturally I was curious.” Hictor said.
“You were an astral summoner?” the voice asked.
“Yes. Summoners can only draw beings from the limited places connected to this world. But by pure chance one of my summons got an object from outside any such place.” Hictor said.
“So what is it exactly?” The voice asked.
“Some kind of crystal that exists outside of or perhaps across dimensional space. I can focus a basic summoning spell through it to tap into other realities and pull something from it. There I can bind them to me like any regular summon.” Hictor said.
“Is that allowed?” the voice asked.
“Apparently not since now I got them after me! Guess some people don’t want things where they shouldn’t be.” Hictor said.
“What do they want with you?” the voice asked.
“I assume to take the crystal from me if not just outright obliterate me or put me on trial if that's even a thing they do.” Hictor said.
“So why keep provoking them by continuing your experiments?” The voice asked.
“Because it’s the one thing in my life that actually means anything to me! Nothing I’ve ever seen has the potential of this! All those other projects mean nothing to me anymore!” Hictor said.
“So you’re doing this for excitement?” the voice asked.
“No, not excitement. I’m doing this because I’m the only one who’s able to do anything with this! I’ll explore what possibilities this crystal gives and feel like I did something noteworthy for once!” Hictor said.
“And you choose to ignore the troubles these summons cause for you and others to do it?” the voice asked.
Hictor sat upright and turned towards the small figure sitting on the nearby coffee table. An egg-shaped creature covered in chitinous plates that stood on three bug-like legs. At the very top of the head was a small gap in the plates where three glowing yellow eyes peered back at him. Hictor had summoned this one to keep him company since it was one of the more intellectual of his summons.
“I’m dealing with an unknown field of magic and science here. I’m trying not to hurt anyone but people keep getting in my way and all I have to go on is trial and error here! Plenty of scientific endeavors ended in disaster due to people not knowing enough, magic is the same in that regard as well.” Hictor said to the creature.
“Scientific blunders are easy for me to understand. But my kind does not have magic, what did those early days of failed experiments bring?” The creature asked.
“Oh you have no idea, I could tell you for days about what happened. It’s all ancient history, but it was well recorded. Like the alchemist trying to turn lead into gold. She managed to do it yes, but then it turned her table into gold, then her floor, then the alchemist, and so it kept spreading until a band of heroic wizards cast a massive nullification spell to stop it. Couldn't do much for the few towns it converted beforehand.” Hictor said.
“You had an entire city affected by a spell of yours, correct?” the creature asked.
“How do you know about that? I never told you and I never got you until after it had happened.” Hictor asked.
“I’ve been able to scrape together details during my time here. Lots of minds have heard of it.” they said.
“How much do you know?” Hictor asked.
The creature told Hictor an accurate retelling of what had happened: It was not long after Hictor had acquired the crystal, he figured out how to harness it and decided to try summoning. When one draws out a being to summon for the first time, one must perform a complex ritual and focus their power through something. Only after the being has been summoned and bound can the process be as simple as any other spell. Hictor had obviously taken note of the crystal’s strange properties and tried to summon with it.
The being that came out was a white silhouette of a man devoid of any features save for what looked like a black outline of fire with the flames all directed towards the center of the being’s chest which was a hollow orb. The being was confused, said something about it being “Too dusty and dark” despite having been summoned in a well lit lab in the middle of the day. It shot through the ceiling and began to glow with a blinding white light. Then another one stepped out from the light and began to glow as well once it had reached a considerable distance from the original.
Hictor looked at the light through his tinted goggles and felt himself seeing through the radiance before him. His normal vision seemed to fade away as it was replaced by the “clarity” the light offered. The sheer sensory overload nearly made him faint, not to mention he somehow heard the thoughts of everyone who was also looking into the light. Hictor managed to tear himself away from the light and focused on the situation without much issue. The being was now multiplying at a considerably faster rate and was nearly covering the entire city.
Hictor held the crystal tight and performed a recall spell. The being and its duplicates vanished as they were sent back to where it came. Hictor’s involvement was somehow reported to the authorities almost the exact moment after it had happened. Governments all over the world were being pressured to arrest him, though they would not say who was pressuring them. Ever since that day, Hictor has been on the run. Something beyond his understanding is mad at him. He decided he would rather keep experimenting with the crystal than face whatever is now after him.
“Is that not how it happened?” the creature asked.
“It is. How did you know what I was seeing?” Hictor asked.
“I took a trip to Memory Lane. Saw your history there.” the creature said.
“Memory Lane is only supposed to show things you witnessed personally. How can you view a history that isn’t your own?” Hictor said.
“I can see your eyes, can I not?” the creature asked.
“I swear you all just have weirder and weirder abilities.” Hictor said as he lied back down. “One of these times I’m going to pull out a bus driver or something and they’ll seem so bland compared to the others.”
He had sent one of his other summons out to find some food. Actually to find money and buy food. Money usually wasn’t that big of a problem since he has a summon for hacking into ATMs to steal money. He paid for everything with cash since he had no bank account anymore. Hictor hoped the summon returned soon since he was getting rather hungry.
As he waited, he considered his next move. Hictor needed to strike against the bounty hunters that have tracked him here. Best to take them out early before they find his hiding place and word of its location gets out. He preferred to take them out quietly.
Encounters with bounty hunters are never good. Hictor’s bounty is so absurdly high that any hunter brave or dumb enough will come after him. History has shown that he couldn’t be fought solo. So lately they have all been grouping up since even a hundred-member team will still be set for life from the split reward money. Hictor had enough stress in his life and wanted to avoid adding bounty hunters to that stress as much as he can.
Hictor recalled something that happened the night after that first summoning with the crystal. He had a dream that he was sure wasn’t just a dream. He was standing on a rock floating in a cloud of neon-colored mist. He heard a voice call out to him from every angle.
“Hictor Alonsig Lindstrum. Your possession of the anomaly was a mistake. With your permission, we will whisk it away from your reality and your life will return to normal. Otherwise we will resort to using force to obtain it. State your answer now.” The booming voice said.
Hictor said nothing, he didn’t want to say anything. He was fully lucid in this moment and this crystal was the key to filling the emptiness in his life that had plagued him for years. With no answer given and his defiance clear, the voice simply said “So be it.” and he woke up the next morning.
Hictor grasped the crystal and held it out above his prone form. He drew out the invisible being he had used on Tsilo earlier. Hictor told it to find where the bounty hunters that they found out about are. The being made a noise like that of paper being crumpled and vanished. He hoped it located them before sunrise. Best to take care of them as soon as he could.
He dispelled the creature sitting on the table, Hictor wanted to sleep so no point in having it around. He already has a summon guarding the building so he felt like a good sleep was possible. The bed wasn’t half bad so he had that as well. He’ll get what rest he could before the summon getting food comes back.