Fall 10, 510 AV
We shouldn’t be doing this.
Come ON! Where is your sense of adventure?
The last time I was down here, I nearly got caught in the Strands.
You also got me.
I’m debating whether that’s a good thing
Oh, you’re impossible. How’s this then. I go and you come, or I go alone. Can’t rightly let me wander off without your say so, right? No telling what kind of trouble I’ll get in.
That’s extortion.
Only if I’m asking for money.
Wh-but…no, that’s…
Genius? Thank you fatface. Let’s go.
Stop calling me that.
Then stop stuffing your face.
The shadow of Wrenmae was a lithe addition to the menagerie collection huddled in the Alvadas underground. After he had found it the first time, relocating the entrance had been almost painfully easy. The yawning darkness below peeked from every corner, every sewer grate. It was as if his first accidental descent had tattooed his soul with an entrance key. Now the Underground wanted him back, to claim him, lose him, and make him a part of the illogically cavernous expanse.
But adventure had lingered too long in his blood steam, intoxicating the young storyteller with heights he could not reach living from pocket change and theft above ground. Now he crept between too-tall buildings, crouching in hidden places, watching.
Two men strode the streets with a direction born of familiarity. Neither spoke but both rivaled the other in height. Dressed in black they were mute phantoms patrolling an otherwise unknown urban environment. Wrenmae followed, aided only by the set cobblestone and his own soft soles.
When both men disappeared into one of the buildings, Wrenmae fell back to consider his options.
I say we check it out.
Sure. Follow two random strangers into a building that shouldn’t exist in a place that shouldn’t exist.
Right.
Risk my life for curiosity
Yep.
Do you have any concept of danger?
Limited. Your world doesn’t hold the same pitfalls as mine.
But this world holds plenty for me
I really don’t see how this is my fault.
Why does it have to be about you?
Because it’s always about you.
Well. Yes. It’s OUR life in danger.
I don’t feel threatened.
But I do.
Your character flaws as a coward are not my fault.
My what?
I can’t stutter in a telepathic link.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I’ll see what’s inside.
There’s the spirit!
SHUT UP!
Approaching the door, Wrenmae tried the knob. It was locked, the metal cool and unyielding against his palm. Sighing, Wrenmae stepped back from the door and held out both hands, directing the Djed within him to focus there. He closed his eyes, the first step to nothing, darkness. But there were steps beyond it, long flights of stairs that led to the very concept of nothing…there was no darkness more complete, as even trying to imagine the void was a paradox unto itself. A mage could only hope to imagine puncturing reality with his Djed, poking a temporary hole into the realm below the one resided in, hoping it was the nothing of the Void.
Pushing his Djed outward, Wrenmae tried to imagine slipping it into the reality where the knob existed and pulling it apart, opening a tiny hole into the underworld…no…no…not the underworld, more like into the face of oblivion itself.
He stood there like that for a few minutes, pushing that magic through his hands and fingers until a tiny point of black appeared on the face of the knob. It grew, slowly swallowing the doorknob entirely, pushing slightly against the wood of the door. Wrenmae stepped back, that blackness remained. Lowering his hands, the mage retreated backwards into an alley, watching as the little portal whirled, whirled, grew hungry, and then eventually collapsed in on itself. It left no trace of the knob and had cut a smooth groove into the face of the door. It was enough to open it, pushing the portal open and slinking into the shadows that lay beyond.
Cavernous hallways and impossible ascents and descents characterized this place, but no living soul made themselves known to the boy as he circled through corridors. Locked doors, closed doors, doors with dull murmurings. In time, the thief came to realize he was in a place very different from the upper Alvadas. Here there was danger, here there was menace. This was something much bigger than him and he’d unwittingly played the part of the curious sparrow, now caught in a trap.
By now he could not return, the halls seemed to move of their own accord, shift at a whim, and play merry with his passage. It was only when the hall ended in two large wooden doors that Wrenmae found where the strange building had led him.
A library…towering with books.
This is what we came for? A Library?
Fantastic!
Oh. Right. Yes. Amazing. Excuse me while I lament my decisions.
But Zan, didn’t you want adventure?
The real kind, not the ones chronicled in a book.
Maybe you should read one. Enrich yourself.
Oh yes, read a book. Sure. I’ll turn the pages with my real boy hands.
You could be more supportive.
With what? My bones?
Shut up Zan. You led us here, now deal with it.
Petcher.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
Come ON! Where is your sense of adventure?
The last time I was down here, I nearly got caught in the Strands.
You also got me.
I’m debating whether that’s a good thing
Oh, you’re impossible. How’s this then. I go and you come, or I go alone. Can’t rightly let me wander off without your say so, right? No telling what kind of trouble I’ll get in.
That’s extortion.
Only if I’m asking for money.
Wh-but…no, that’s…
Genius? Thank you fatface. Let’s go.
Stop calling me that.
Then stop stuffing your face.
The shadow of Wrenmae was a lithe addition to the menagerie collection huddled in the Alvadas underground. After he had found it the first time, relocating the entrance had been almost painfully easy. The yawning darkness below peeked from every corner, every sewer grate. It was as if his first accidental descent had tattooed his soul with an entrance key. Now the Underground wanted him back, to claim him, lose him, and make him a part of the illogically cavernous expanse.
But adventure had lingered too long in his blood steam, intoxicating the young storyteller with heights he could not reach living from pocket change and theft above ground. Now he crept between too-tall buildings, crouching in hidden places, watching.
Two men strode the streets with a direction born of familiarity. Neither spoke but both rivaled the other in height. Dressed in black they were mute phantoms patrolling an otherwise unknown urban environment. Wrenmae followed, aided only by the set cobblestone and his own soft soles.
When both men disappeared into one of the buildings, Wrenmae fell back to consider his options.
I say we check it out.
Sure. Follow two random strangers into a building that shouldn’t exist in a place that shouldn’t exist.
Right.
Risk my life for curiosity
Yep.
Do you have any concept of danger?
Limited. Your world doesn’t hold the same pitfalls as mine.
But this world holds plenty for me
I really don’t see how this is my fault.
Why does it have to be about you?
Because it’s always about you.
Well. Yes. It’s OUR life in danger.
I don’t feel threatened.
But I do.
Your character flaws as a coward are not my fault.
My what?
I can’t stutter in a telepathic link.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I’ll see what’s inside.
There’s the spirit!
SHUT UP!
Approaching the door, Wrenmae tried the knob. It was locked, the metal cool and unyielding against his palm. Sighing, Wrenmae stepped back from the door and held out both hands, directing the Djed within him to focus there. He closed his eyes, the first step to nothing, darkness. But there were steps beyond it, long flights of stairs that led to the very concept of nothing…there was no darkness more complete, as even trying to imagine the void was a paradox unto itself. A mage could only hope to imagine puncturing reality with his Djed, poking a temporary hole into the realm below the one resided in, hoping it was the nothing of the Void.
Pushing his Djed outward, Wrenmae tried to imagine slipping it into the reality where the knob existed and pulling it apart, opening a tiny hole into the underworld…no…no…not the underworld, more like into the face of oblivion itself.
He stood there like that for a few minutes, pushing that magic through his hands and fingers until a tiny point of black appeared on the face of the knob. It grew, slowly swallowing the doorknob entirely, pushing slightly against the wood of the door. Wrenmae stepped back, that blackness remained. Lowering his hands, the mage retreated backwards into an alley, watching as the little portal whirled, whirled, grew hungry, and then eventually collapsed in on itself. It left no trace of the knob and had cut a smooth groove into the face of the door. It was enough to open it, pushing the portal open and slinking into the shadows that lay beyond.
Cavernous hallways and impossible ascents and descents characterized this place, but no living soul made themselves known to the boy as he circled through corridors. Locked doors, closed doors, doors with dull murmurings. In time, the thief came to realize he was in a place very different from the upper Alvadas. Here there was danger, here there was menace. This was something much bigger than him and he’d unwittingly played the part of the curious sparrow, now caught in a trap.
By now he could not return, the halls seemed to move of their own accord, shift at a whim, and play merry with his passage. It was only when the hall ended in two large wooden doors that Wrenmae found where the strange building had led him.
A library…towering with books.
This is what we came for? A Library?
Fantastic!
Oh. Right. Yes. Amazing. Excuse me while I lament my decisions.
But Zan, didn’t you want adventure?
The real kind, not the ones chronicled in a book.
Maybe you should read one. Enrich yourself.
Oh yes, read a book. Sure. I’ll turn the pages with my real boy hands.
You could be more supportive.
With what? My bones?
Shut up Zan. You led us here, now deal with it.
Petcher.
