Luka sat with his legs dangling off a particularly tall cliff with little Leo in his lap. Below, dark water rippled into the tall basalt columns that made up the remnants of Emberwood Mine, the lake’s surface rough from the breeze. A question had long fluttered in his mind since Goddess Tippy stole his soul from oblivion: why?
Why him? Why now? Why here? Why, why, why?
He thought he knew. To build happiness. It was the goddess’ mission statement, her divine decree for his second life. He fought through the terrible memories of his past, he adapted to his new home, he even made friends and touched lives…
And yet, now, sitting with his legs dangling off a cliff and his mind filled with unanswerable questions, happiness seemed so far away. His illusions hurt Eve—and as much as she, Sol, and Franky promised it wasn’t a big deal, it was.
Luka had asked for very few things since arriving in this world, one of which was not to devolve into Earth Luka, the King of Bullets, the weapons creator, the supplier. And yet, seeing Franky gently ease Eve to the ground, all Luka could think about was Earth.
There was a moment, years before he died and years before he realized the fallout of his actions, that Luka walked the streets after his creations rolled through. He remembered the scorch marks; he remembered the bullet holes and the mortar craters. He remembered the laughing generals sipping drinks in their tents; he remembered a clap on his back for “a job well done.”
And most importantly, he remembered the catalyst: the image that would forever be seared into his mind, the scene that, eventually, made him question who he was and what he was creating.
He remembered a raven-haired woman, a woman whose skin was both charred black and whiter than snow—ash did that to a person. She was dead, her eyes locked firmly open, her skin frozen to the touch. And yet, she stared at Luka through time and space, judging, guilting, and forcing him to remember.
Luka didn’t know her name, but she would never be forgotten—not until his last breath.
“She looks like Eve,” a voice said, sliding beside Luka and recounting the dead woman.
He didn’t flinch at Goddess Tippy’s sudden arrival, in fact, he expected it. Prayer was interesting in this world—the gods sometimes actually materialized. And boy, Luka had been praying.
The question was, was he looking for advice or penance?
“Advice, I’d say,” Tippy mused, reaching out to give Leo a pat all the while reading Luka’s mind like a book.
Luka picked up a rock and tossed it into the murky depths, shifting his legs and Leo. The wolf hopped up, let out a tongue-curling yawn, then trotted over into the goddess’ lap, promptly falling asleep. It was late, far past the village’s bedtime. Luka had missed the park’s closure, not that they needed him to shepherd guests out—in fact, he was having a hard time seeing why they needed him at all.
The park could be built by Sol. It would take longer, and likely be more expensive, but Sol was an expert magic user. Eve understood the vision of what amusement parks could be, and Tram’s village management translated well enough into park management.
They didn’t need him.
And he was okay with that.
“No you’re not.”
Luka ignored the goddess and tossed another rock. Out of his peripherals, he spotted Leo’s tiny eyes peering up at him. Apparently, the wolf wasn’t as asleep as he seemed.
“Go to sleep, Leo. Tomorrow, you have another full day entertaining the guests’ mounts.”
The little wolf had taken it upon himself to play with all the mounts that came to the village. The barns and forest around Todd’s Bar were perfect for hide and seek, wrestling, and even fetch—if someone passing by threw the ball.
Luka’s words caused Leo to sit up and pant. The goddess stroked his white fur, but Leo wasn’t dumb—he understood Luka’s intentions quite well. And if he had to stay up the night with him, so be it.
Tippy chuckled. “Who’s a good boy?” she asked, scratching Leo with her fingers made of rose petals and supernovas. Leo’s back leg started thumping, that super itchy spot getting scratched juuuuust right.
Luka tossed another rock.
“Really? Even the wolf couldn’t pull you out of this funk?”
He turned and glared at her. “You think this is funny?”
“No,” Tippy said casually as if her divinity was a perfect mask. “I hate it when any of my people are sad. It breaks my heart.”
Luka ignored her tone and expression, instead throwing another rock. Just like prayer, the gods of this world were interesting. He had met multiple at this point, and so far, none of them had so much as genuinely smiled at him. Neb gazed at his stars like an elder waiting to die, and Tippy adopted a placated grin, one used more to ease the mortals she spoke to.
“Is that what you think?”
“Well, it’s true,” a new voice said.
Luka glanced to the other side of him, finding God Neb sitting. The man appeared as if he had always been there, his age showing in the deepness of his eyes and the hunch in his back. Neb wore the skin of a mortal but breathed the air of the divine. The god was a façade, a mask, a fake. He sat beside Luka on that bench nights ago to manipulate and familiarize.
Luka saw through it now. The showmanship, the mystique, the immortal arrogance.
Tippy waited long enough to read Luka's next few thoughts before saying, “It’s not. I do care about—”
“Save it, Tip,” Neb said with a yawn. “The kid doesn’t believe it, and he’s not going to just because you say so. He’s not one of your devout, and he’s a hell of a long way from becoming one.”
Leo hopped off the goddess’ lap to inspect the newcomer. He gave Neb a few cautious sniffs before sitting between him and Luka.
“What a brave little pup,” Neb mused.
Luka tossed another rock and counted the time it took to splash into the water.
“They couldn’t do it without you,” the old man then said, “build the park, I mean. Trust me, I can peer into the future.”
Which one? Luka thought.
“All of them. Tricky magic, but with some practice, even you could look. Learning to interpret what you saw is a whole other business.”
Luka rolled his eyes.
“I’m not telling you this to manipulate you—” Neb stopped himself when Luka twisted his head and stared unimpressed. “Okay, I am. Sue me. Just hear me out.”
Luka wasn’t going anywhere—and it wasn’t like he could refrain from listening if he tried. They were gods, after all.
Neb tapped his crooked, arthritis-ridden fingers against his cartilage-free knee. He made a face before sighing and holding out his hand.
“The ability to read the future means I already know what to say to get you out of this ‘funk’ and back to living your life,” he then said, much to Tippy’s irritation.
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The goddess groaned and snapped, “Don’t tell him that! Now it’s not going to work.”
Luka turned his head and eyed the goddess. He mutely shook his head and tossed another rock. Neb, likewise, gave her a withered glare, like a parent trying to get their child to shut up in front of the police.
“As I was saying,” Neb continued, holding out his hand, “just… watch.”
From his palm, a burst of magic flashed. Luka recognized the spellwork as an illusion. A picture-video formed; a stifling stone castle came into view. Like a bird soaring through the sky, the illusion wove through the clouds and descended toward a spire window. It hesitated to enter, instead highlighting the room.
A young woman—a girl, really—sat at the foot of her bed, lamely eyeing her breakfast. Luka instantly understood, just from watching the illusion, that the food was the same as yesterday, and the day prior. It was a special breakfast, one the girl’s parents deemed necessary for growth and development.
The girl audibly sighed, departed her bed, and grabbed a stack of paper from the nearby table. She then climbed out of the window, magically augmenting her fingers and toes to magnetize to the tower’s outer wall. She spider-climbed to the top, where she sat on the spire roof and began to read.
Neb’s illusion zoomed in on the papers, showing off a familiar local newspaper. The girl read the article titled “A WORLD WALKER OR A WORLD MAKER?” by Stell Metus of the Sneerhome periodical.
“The papers are a few days late this far from Sneerhome,” Neb explained. “The royals used to teleport the papers in, but that was a grossly inappropriate use of magical funds.”
“Royals?”
“Indeed. You are currently looking at the youngest princess of the Kingdom of Embers—in other words, the first ‘VIP’ World Walker Park ticket holder.”
“We don’t have a VIP ticket,” Luka slowly muttered.
“Not yet, you don’t.”
Luka twitched his hands, the gesture about what he was feeling on the subject. A princess was coming to the park? He honestly didn’t care.
“See, Neb?” Tippy ruefully said. “This is why we go with the future-proven things to say instead of winging it.”
The other god simply shook his head. “And I’m telling you, this will be better. Luka’s not stupid, and he’s a divine skeptic. He saw through your and my masks instantly. We look at the future and say whatever will get what we want the fastest. That won’t work here, not for Luka, not for the long term.”
“Long term?” Luka asked.
“If we had this conversation Tip’s way, then you would kill yourself six months from now after the park’s grand opening.”
Luka didn’t react, but Tippy’s eyes turned ablaze. Magic pooled around her, turning the immediate area to day. The moon hung overhead, the sky was pitch black, and yet, the light emanating from the goddess was like the glow of a sunny wheat field.
Tippy’s ire suddenly hitched, then drained. The light dimmed; her posture slumped. Leo barked at her.
“She just looked at the future,” Neb commented. “We gods might be gods, but we are not infallible. Sometimes, we forget to look farther into the future to see the outcomes of our shortcuts.”
“I’m so sorry, Luka,” Tippy whispered. “I didn’t—”
Luka tossed another rock. “What happens to the park?”
“What?”
“After I off myself, what happens to the park?”
Tippy hesitated to answer, but Neb had no problems. “The park is a smashing success. It innovates and expands, creating an entertainment empire spanning multiple continents. A monument of you is built at the entrance of each park where everyone entering has to look at it. Some take the time to read the plaque, others don’t.”
Luka grunted. “Seems about right.”
Tippy’s mouth opened and closed several times, the words just not forming.
Neb held out his palm and produced another illusion. A gruff middle-aged man was walking through a vault. “This next person is the crime lord in the Kingdom of Embers. After Mayor Tram removes a small-time street crew from Sneerhome and deposits them into the park’s employment, the crime lord investigates. He’ll like what he sees and attempt to take it over.”
Neb flexed his fingers, producing another illusion of a person. An elvish woman stood at the top of a tree several times taller than Earth’s tallest building and a few magnitudes larger in width. “She hears the trees whispering about World Walker Park in a few months because of the park’s newest sectioned land called ‘the Bestial Grove.’ She is the Elvin Consort to our world’s tree and likes what you will be doing with nature conservation.”
Neb flexed again, producing the illusion of a young, blue-skinned woman. Luka instantly recognized her as the girl from the other day, Sally, all grown up.
“Sally, here,” Neb whispered, “was inspired by your physics lesson and enters a prestigious magical university and studies natural law and how it relates to magic. In her lifetime, she will revolutionize the field and attract scorn from the oldest and most traditionalist of mages.” He crushed the illusion with his fingers, then leaned in. “And she will prove them all wrong.”
Tears fell silently from Luka’s cheeks.
“You will, or have already, touched each of these people’s lives. Most will end positively, but one won’t. In fact, you’ll hurt them—just like those people you hurt on Earth. But you’ll learn from it, grow from it, and continue to inspire.” Neb held out his hand one final time, summoning forth an illusion of the future. It was World Walker Park—what it would look like in a few months.
It was glorious.
Luka’s eyes sparkled as the illusion swept through the attractions, lines, and guests. But—the thought of a raven-haired dead woman with piercing, haunted eyes stopped him.
“I can’t hurt anyone anymore,” he muttered.
“Sure, you can,” Neb replied instantly. “It’s called being human—which is a phrase in this world, by the way. Everyone knows what you mean, even if they aren’t human.”
Luka shook his head. His hand reached for another rock, but he didn’t throw it. Instead, he held it in his hand, the weight pressing into his skin.
“I won’t hurt anyone anymore,” he said.
Neb nodded. “Then don’t.”
“But you said—”
“Tippy also implied that the future will change if you know about it.”
“How will I know who I’ll hurt? I can’t know the future for every guest that comes into the park.”
“You’re talking about illusionary sickness, right?”
“Illusion nausea,” Luka said.
“Right, that.” Neb scratched his wrinkled chin. “Well, shouldn’t Tippy’s blessing cover it? She did say she’d protect everyone from getting hurt on your rides.”
Tippy’s eyes went wide. “That’s right!” she declared. “I’ll recreate the blessing to include esoteric, magical illnesses as well.”
Neb rolled his eyes. “You know, Luka, I get the feeling that illusion nausea isn’t the real reason you’re in a ‘funk.’”
He didn’t react to that.
The god continued, “I think you just used the illness as an excuse to punish yourself. For as much time as you spent with Tippy in her heavenly domain, your past isn’t something you just get over. It’ll stay with you, just like Tippy or my past will stay with us.” Darkness shrouded the man’s face. “You don’t become a god without a few skeleton-filled closets. Trust me on that.”
Luka rolled his ring around his finger. Neb was wrong. It wasn’t that his past was derailing him, it was that his future was… was… He gritted his teeth and went over all of his responsibilities.
The park, the village, aluminum, Eve and Franky’s relationship with their aunt, and finally, the resurrection of everyone who died in the mine. What am I missing? he asked himself.
“The orphans’ happiness,” Tippy suggested.
Luka nodded. “Back on Earth, despite everything, I could see my path forward. But now, here, I’m blindly sprinting forward. Then I trip over something like Eve’s illusion nausea, and I’m reminded that I’m a terrible sprinter.”
Neb patted Luka on the knee. “Then slow down.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Is it? How’d you sprint on Earth without tripping?”
Luka thought about that. How did he do it? Did he trip at all? Ignoring the fact he ignored the implications of his work, how did he keep up with everything? After college, after his first engineering firm, after the government hired him, after the militia work… nothing stuck out as a tripping hazard. The worst he could think of was burn-out, but a three-day weekend of relaxing was all he needed to get back on his feet.
“You’re forgetting something important, Luka,” Neb advised. “I watched your entire previous life the moment you stepped onto this world, and there’s something you haven’t thought of once that was a huge part of what happened to you.”
Luka pressed his lips firmly. “It’s hard to think. Tippy’s mind-altering magic did—”
“No,” Neb slowly, ever so slowly, said, “Tip’s magic is completely gone.”
“But I still can’t remember everything. I’m missing huge chunks of my life.”
“Those were there before I did anything to your mind,” Tippy said, speaking for the first time in a few minutes. “You blocked those memories out.”
“Memories of what?”
The divine pair didn’t answer. Instead, they stared at him.
Luka’s mind went to a blue-skinned adult woman—the mother of the future mage, Sally. “Do you have kids, Mr. World Walker? Because you handled her excellently.”
A memory appeared: An Earth hospital. Flowery wallpaper. A waiting room. Nurses and doctors running around. A wife in labor—
“I have a daughter,” Luka said, the memories coming back. Horror stretched across his face. “And she hates me.”
“Well, technically,” Neb announced, “she’s dead, so she doesn’t feel anything.”
“NEB!” Tippy screamed, the night air turning to day again.
“What?” the old god asked. “It’s not like the kid doesn’t have a way to reincarnate people sitting right on his finger. The only question is: should he?”