Goddess Tippy and her brother, Rion, sat patiently on a conjured replica of Luka’s Ferris wheel. The attraction slowly rotated, raising them up, allowing them to see all of Tippy’s divine domain. For them, the view wasn’t impressive—after all, they could create far better views with a simple flick of the wrist.
And yet, both were smiling greatly.
“Your golden boy seems to be making waves already,” Rion said, eyeing a particular fastener connecting the bungalow to the mechanical wheel. “This little piece of metal alone is going to revolutionize the door industry.”
Tippy rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, you and your doors. Can we talk about something other than—” She stopped herself. “Apologies, brother. I… am not myself today.”
Rion regarded her empathetically. It wasn’t every day that a god invited a mortal into their domain and couldn’t get them to leave. Such was life, he supposed, when World Walkers were involved.
“Just how long was he here?” he asked.
“Nine years.” Tippy sulked. “I had to enchant his, and the wolf’s, mind so they didn’t go insane. Then, when he finally left, I had to rewind the cosmic clock in here so that he wouldn’t be time-skewed.”
That was… far longer than Rion had expected. “Just what was he doing all that time?”
“Crying, mostly. Then snuggling with the wolf and asking me what happened to Earth after he died the first time.” She slowly shook her head. “I’ll tell you what, brother, sometimes this whole ‘Goddess’ thing is taxing.”
Rion nodded in agreement. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. My head priest won’t leave me alone. His daughter just had a child, and he wants me to bless the child with ancient swordsmanship. He thinks the kid will be a professional duelist fighting in the colosseums.”
Tippy tilted her head. “What’s wrong with that? Seems reasonable for a head priest to request such a thing from you.”
The god glared at his sister. “The child is an infant—it has no idea what a rapier even is!”
“Then why—”
“My head priest saw the child waving around a twig, thinking it was a sign from me!”
“Was it?”
“No! The kid just found a twig and was waving it around.”
Tippy chuckled. “Just bless the kid—at the very least, you’d score favor with God Griss. Griss sure loves his duels. It’s almost as if—”
“—as if God Griss is the God of the Duel or something, aye sister?” Rion finished her statement with a glare. He leaned back in the bungalow, the Ferris wheel cresting the peak. “I was always going to bless the child. I just wish the boy had chosen a path for himself, you know?”
“Just because you bless him doesn’t mean he has to do anything with the blessing.”
“I know—it’s just—” Rion stopped himself. He didn’t know where he was going with this; just some things didn’t feel right. Everyone wanted something—mortals, gods, everyone—and yet, sometimes, the thing they wanted wasn’t correct for them.
But then again, Rion supposed that was the way it usually was. Greed and need were two different things. He watched his sister closely. The World Walker had changed her. Nine years speaking to him? Even if he himself didn’t remember all of it, Tippy surely would. Nine years may just be a blink of an eye to her, but Rion knew better—she had placed all her chips on Luka.
If the World Walker was successful, everything would change. If not, well, Rion feared for Tippy’s divinity. None of the other gods would challenge her, of course, that wasn’t how the heavens operated.
No, Rion feared Tippy would strip herself of divinity if Luka was unsuccessful. Nine years was nothing to her, but it was also everything. No other god—himself included, would have sat with the mortal that long. A few vague words of wisdom, an esoteric prophecy, and a recommendation to speak with a priest or priestess—that would have been all Rion would have done for the lad.
But again, Rion knew he and the other gods were different compared to his sister. She kept her mortal body all these years, after all.
How did Tippy phrase it again? “Our world is happy, but superficially.”
Rion looked at his sister carefully. She’s happy, but superficially, too.
He cleared his throat, the Ferris wheel finally descending. Luka would pull through—he just knew it. Sitting in the World Walker’s attraction, Rion knew the mortal would save his sister’s life.
Could he help in any way? Maybe.
Rion took Tippy’s hand softly. At first, she protested, but a gentle smile removed her annoyed façade. She practically melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Millennia of stress and fatigue seemed to disappear in that moment—from both of them.
They may be gods, but they were family first.
And family helped each other.
***
Three days after Luka built the Ferris wheel, Emberwood Village was to “open” to the public. Night and day, twenty-four-seven, the attraction spun, illuminating the starry sky with pulsating light glyphs of all colors. It towered over the tree line for all of Sneerhome to see, especially those riding to and from on the highway.
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There were three reasons Mayor Tram delayed Emberwood’s opening by a few days. First, to drum up intrigue. Todd’s Bar was, officially, the hottest bar in the area, serving up ten times its normal nightly sales to a completely packed house. People, merchants, and Sneerhome locals mostly sat at the bar’s sticky tables discussing what was behind Emberwood’s freshly created gate—and the mystique that was to come.
Eve and Franky were paramount in this endeavor. They whispered rumors to the drunk patrons, explaining how even they—Emberwood residents—weren’t privy to the happenings inside the village. This was, of course, a lie, but a lie fashioned by the mayor to create even more excitement. Eve and Franky knew exactly what was going on, even adding their two cents to the planning.
The second reason Emberwood’s opening was delayed was because of Luka—the World Walker needed time to create something befitting of such guile mystique. And towards that end, he gathered needed materials, money to buy more materials, and garnered the other villagers’ blessing. A lot of changes were coming to Emberwood Village, and Luka would only create if every resident agreed to the plan:
Emberwood Village was going to become an amusement park.
One created gradually. It wouldn’t happen in a day, week, or month, but eventually, as Tram and Luka discussed earlier, Emberwood would become a hub for entertainment, local retail, dining, and something truly unique—something alien.
The third reason was to give time for the villagers to prepare. They needed time for merchandise, “merch” as Luka called it, to be sewn together or chiseled from an old stump. Small things, like wooden trinkets designed to look like one of the five first-day attractions, were easy to create. Shirts with designs and words embroidered across the front? Those were a bit more labor-intensive.
Luckily, Emberwood had nearly three centuries of combined experience when it came to the needle and thread. All tallied up, the elders of the village were masters at sewing. The designs themselves held a bit of contention. Some elders went the traditional route, opting for simple tunics of burlap color and texture. Others took the modern route, the World Walker approach, choosing to revolutionize the graphic-tee industry.
Luka was especially proud of the flagship shirt design he had dreamt of. It was a simple shirt that only said, “I conquered the WHEEL!”
“The WHEEL” was the name for the Ferris wheel, and in his mind, the shirt brought a thrill to the uniqueness of the attraction. Where else could you find a mass of rotating metal that loomed over the trees? Riding it, as some of the villagers confessed, was the scariest thing they’ve ever done in their lives
Luka got a good laugh at that, thinking of rollercoasters and drop towers.
Booths and stalls were set up around the attractions, as well as covered narrow walkways for line entrances/exits. Some booths sold merch, others sold food. Smash burgers, pizza, bakery pastries, and grilled ribblelits were the staples, along with juice, jrum, and—oddly enough—tomato juice. The red liquid was a fan favorite of many orcs.
During all of this, Luka created three new attractions to go with the WHEEL and the tentatively named carousel, “Dire Run.” The newest attractions were simple, created to quell the estimated crowds.
The first was a teacups-style spinning ride. Luka designed a simple version that sparkled with light glyphs and could house two dozen riders per ride cycle. Riders would sit in four-person “teacups” and rotate a centralized disk that would spin them. The floor the teacups sat on also spun, albeit in a different direction than the teacups. Dizziness was no joke, especially with the strength of an orc.
Franky made himself puke twice before Luka added a limit to how fast the teacups could be spun.
The second new attraction was a spinning swing set that raised riders a few dozen feet off the ground. Paired with the speed the ride moved at, as well as a simple buckle and lap bar as means of restraint, and the ride gave a significant thrill. The villagers who said riding the Ferris wheel was the scariest thing they’ve ever done quickly changed their tune.
The third and newest attraction was a simple lighthouse slide meant for kids. A staircase inside a lighthouse façade wound in a circle, leading kids to the top, where they could then slide down an outer spiral slide. A stack of cut burlap sacks the kids brought up the stairs with them and slid down on made the attraction more interesting and faster.
And it was in these last three days that Luka finally came to terms with his previous life. The tears had dried out, and the smiles started to come back. Little Leo slept curled up in his bed every night, and seeing Ren and Nicole walk around the village together reminded him of the reasons for all of this.
Guns, planes, missiles, war, none of it mattered anymore, Luka thought on the second day. He rested under an emberwood tree, snacking on a sandwich Ren had made and brought him. It was good—a bit heavy on the mayo, but good. He stood up and flexed his magic, completing the roof of the teacups ride.
None of it matters, not when I’m here, alive, today. Goddess Tippy was right to mock me. Luka thought of his last memory of Earth. He was drunk, his crimes of countless deaths weighing on his old soul. He had been kicked out of the last bar in town that would still serve him. He had pills in his pocket, and he was homeless. That night was colder than usual.
I’m alive today, he silently told himself, and I’m going to do better than last time.
Then hesitantly, he thought, for myself and those around me.
Eve had devised the mantra, and Luka knew he had to adopt it. People relied on him now, and he had to live for himself first and foremost—lest he let them down. He worked into the night that day.
On the third day, an hour before the gates opened, Tram found Luka and walked over with him. The conversation started with simple pleasantries, but both were busy people; business quickly followed.
“We need to talk about buying materials from Sneerhome. I’m all out of the rusted, rotted stuff the villagers had lying around,” Luka said.
After the Ferris wheel was built, and the prospects of opening an amusement park were raised, Tram had convinced the villagers to fork over any unneeded materials they might be hoarding. Which, as it turned out, was the perfect amount to create three new attractions.
Tram smiled at the World Walker. “Let’s wait until the day’s over. Who knows, maybe today will pay for itself and then some.”
Luka chuckled at that. Tram would be right, he knew. In the limited time he’d known her, she hadn’t been wrong once.
“Done worry so much,” she added. “The gold will be rolling in.”
They continued discussing and joined the growing crowd at the gates. The planned opening wasn’t for an hour, but Tram thought it wise to hold a small meet and greet with the early arrivals. She stopped Luka before they mingled, however.
“I thought of a name for the park.”
Luka raised an eyebrow. “Emberwood Park not good enough?” It was the name he’d been calling it. What better than the name of the village—everyone already knew it.
Tram shook her head. “You’re forgetting the most interesting part of this whole thing—you. You’re a World Walker. For that reason alone, people are going to come. So, the smart move isn’t to name the park after Emberwood.”
He could see the logic. “What’d you have in mind, then?”
The mayor of the dwindling village smiled greatly, a glimmer in her eye. “World Walker Park—fitting, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, yeah, it is.”