Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The key did not fit perfectly into the keyhole.

You'd think, after years of owning this apartment, Skizz would know how to hold his key so that it would smoothly slip into the hole and open his door in one fluid motion. Yet, the exhaustion of the day had hit him a little harder than he'd expected. He must've taken it upside down in his hand, as he tended to do when he was tired.

Skizz stared at the lock for a second. “If you're gonna keep doing that, it's never going to work, y'know.”

The lock didn't respond. Obviously. Instead, he held the key correctly and slotted it extra carefully into the lock. This time, he could open his apartment door and step inside. 

He took a step inside and took a deep breath. He set his briefcase to the side and ran his finger at the collar of his necktie, loosening its death grip on his neck. He had never fully agreed with his work place’s dress code, but on days like these, it was especially irksome.

Not that his work was that bad. Truly, it kept him afloat financially and he was doing something he loved. It's just that projects keep piling up without regard for the fact that the current projects had barely finished and they were expected to put in the same amount of effort for all equally. Skizz had told his team's supervisor multiple times that this was not a good way to work. To her credit, she did tell the boss, but she was no miracle worker and nothing seemed to change. At least Andy was on his side.

And today was only Tuesday!

Well, time to shut off the brain for work and relax a bit. Which included dinner prep and thinking about nothing at all.

That was a lie. He was thinking about work. Specifically, he was thinking about how he could rephrase his concerns with the growing amount of projects. Perhaps a presentation about the percentage of work done for any given project in one day might convince the higher-ups to change their mind. Or perhaps it would convince them to hire more people to make the workload at least bearable in the long term.

Skizz sighed. That train of thought wasn't turning his brain off at all. He had to try something else.

So he put some water in a pot on the stove - it would take a while before it boiled either way - and moved to his living space with his briefcase, keeping the door open.

He pulled a worn book out of the briefcase. The title read “war of the watchers” and the cover depicted the white symbol of an eye on a dark purple-blue-ish backdrop. With only about 200 pages, Andy claimed the book was an easy and exciting read. Though Skizz’s genre of choice was sci-fi and included epic tales of robots and explosions and large wars, which explored the concepts and aspects of humanity, the way Andy spoke about the book piqued his curiosity. The “war of the watchers” was set in a fantasy world where a group of psychics, prophets and oracles - the eponymous watchers - have been keeping a secret for a long time, which a young watcher discovers and breaks to the world. The plot was engaging enough and the questions the book posed regarding information and how much an organization should or shouldn’t keep from the public was something he figured Skizz might like.

Well, Andy had brought his copy today and given it to Skizz. So that he could read it, if he was interested. He'd already seen the first chapter seemed short - only a handful of pages - so if dinner prep itself wasn't helping turn off his mind, then perhaps reading one chapter would do the trick.

Book in hand, he sat himself down on his living room couch and started to read.

The first page of the book was interesting. Of course it would be - any book wanted anyone that picked them up to continue reading after the first page, and this was no different. So far, it seemed his coworker had been correct. From the first page, he could see the care that had been put into every word and though he wasn’t fully sold yet, this was a rather solid start.

He did not get further than the first page.

He could feel it before he saw it. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up, electricity on his fingertips. When he looked up, it was almost as though the electric current had escaped his cables and swirled around its own axis, like a sideways cyclone. It created some sort of roundish shape only a few feet away from Skizz’s face, taking on this strange purple hue, and seemed to gently suck in the air from the room.

He was certain he screamed when he first saw it.

Slightly behind the purple hue, Skizz could make out a face. He couldn’t see it quite clearly, but the head it belonged was almost as large as the surface of purple, which in itself was a few feet wide.

“Greetings, human!” A bombastic voice said, reverberating within his apartment - yet it sounded as though the head spoke from a distance. “Congratulations, for you are the chosen one! Come join us and be the hero we need. What say you?”

Skizz did not react. The shock - from this strange thing appearing in his living room, to this giant head (that did appear to be connected to a pair of shoulders) - was all too real. Anything he could have possibly said, was stuck in his throat and head. So, he didn’t respond at all and merely clutched the book to his chest.

The head let out an exasperated sigh when it did not immediately receive an answer.

“Oh, for crying out loud–” The talking head receded, disappearing within the purple hue that made up this strange phenomenon. For a second, nothing but that purple hue hung around.

What just happened? was the first thought that crossed Skizz’s mind again.

Perhaps, in a second, he’d be able to wake up from this strange dream. Yeah, he was reading a book, perhaps this had been one of those days where he fell asleep on the couch and had a weird dream. Could happen. Sounded logical, even.

A large hand burst through the purple hue, nearly shattering it. Yet, a paper-thin layer of purple remained on the hand as it wrapped itself around Skizz’s torso. Skizz screamed yet again as he was pulled into the purple hue.

He landed with his butt on a cold, stone floor. If he’d had any food already, it’d be decorating these tiles by now. These tiles were a nice sandstone pattern that depicted some sort of scene or story. The part Skizz briefly focused on was one where a farmer raised their pitchfork against a great formless eldritch danger.

Did that farmer actually swing its pitchfork or did Skizz just imagine it?

Skizz stood up, lifted his gaze elsewhere. Almost immediately, his jaw dropped to the ground. The roof of this room was incredibly tall, held up by a row of intricately chiseled sandstone columns. Looking right in front of him, he could see the very back of this big room and the double doors leading out. Off to the side, to his left, stood three people he couldn’t quite recognize. They were wearing dark purple cloaks with big hoods that completely obscured their faces, but one of them seemed to have a large head of hair, based on the shape of the hood. These cloaks were also adorned with an eye symbol that looked familiar to Skizz.

He glanced down at the book he’d been clutching. It was the exact same as on the cover.

Where had he ended up?

“Welcome, human!” That same bombastic voice spoke. “What is your name?”

Skizz spun around and again was shocked with the image. The room’s purpose finally became clear to him when he saw the raised platform and the enormous throne that stood upon it. He couldn’t see it in too much detail, though, for it was currently occupied by a tall ogre. At least, he seemed like an ogre, and Skizz’s only point of reference was Shrek. The difference with Shrek was that this ogre seemed to look a little more human, with brown hair that did have a weirdly green streak in it. The ogre also wore a white toga and as at least fifteen feet tall. The ogre looked at him expectantly.

“Your name?” The ogre said. He’d dropped the act for just a second. “We haven’t got all day, what’s your name?”

“Skizz Leman,” Skizz responded. Perhaps best not to lie to this ogre or the strange people in robes. 

“Skizz Leman! I knew that already, of course!” The ogre repeated enthusiastically, and then cleared his throat and continued with the same bombastic tone. “Skizz Leman, you are the chosen one!”

“Am I?” Skizz wondered out loud, pointing at himself. Him, the chosen one? That seemed ridiculous! Then again, being pulled to what in hindsight was a portal also is a little ridiculous. Just as it was ridiculous that these robed people to the side had the sign of the Watchers from Andy’s book on their cloaks. 

He had to be dreaming. No other explanation.

“Yes, you are, for you have been prophesied to come to these lands and defeat a great evil within.” The ogre paused, likely for dramatic effect. “Do you have any questions?”

Skizz nodded. So, so many questions.

“Yeah, er… where am I? Also, who are you?”

“You are in my kingdom - the Lore Kingdom.” With the way the ogre drew out that name, he placed a lot of importance on what it exactly was. “My name is Joel, the god of Lore and the ruler of this fine kingdom.”

Skizz supposed that he should care about everything Joel just told him. However, he was new and none of this had any importance to him. Still, he figured the best way to deal with these hyper-realistic dreams was to go along with them and nod as though he fully understood everything that was just said.

“The Lore Kingdom itself is located within Hermiton,” Joel explained further. “It is what the land is called. It would be similar to what, if I’m not mistaken, your kind calls ‘Earth’. Which is a rather functional and largely unfulfilling name. Couldn’t you have been more creative?”

Skizz thought it best not to draw the comparison to “the lore kingdom” in the presence of a god. Instead, he focused on another set of questions.

“So you’re a king?” Skizz wondered.

“Yes.”

“And also a god?”

Joel nodded. “A very tall and handsome god.”

“And I have to defeat great evil?”

“As was foretold by the prophecy,” Joel responded, and he glanced over to where the robed people stood. When Skizz cast a glance, he saw that they were nodding in agreement.

“Okay,” Skizz said. “So how do I do that exactly? You know, defeat great evil.”

“That’s for you to figure out.”

Well, then. That was not something that Skizz had necessarily thought he’d hear. Then again, he hadn’t necessarily anticipated any sort of answer. Still, being pulled into a brand new world you’re not at all familiar with with a quest that needs to be completed, only to be told to ‘figure it out’ was not fun.

“I’m sorry, what?” Skizz said.

“Well, the prophecy merely mentions that you’d come here - that’s already happened - and that you’re going to defeat great evil,” the god-king explained, leaning forward a bit. “What did you expect, a manual? A step-by-step guide on how to defeat evil?”

Skizz nodded. “It would be helpful.”

“Well, we don’t have that.” Joel turned to the robed trio. “Right? We don’t have anything like that here, right?”

“No, we don’t,” said the middle one of the robed people with a bit of a lisp.

“How am I supposed to defeat evil, then?” Skizz wondered out loud. Perhaps he shouldn’t have gone along with what this dream suggested. “I don’t know what to do.”

Joel sighed deeply. “You’re the chosen one, Skizz Leman. I don’t know how to help you unless you tell me in which ways you need to be helped.”

“And why is that?”

“Rule number 16 of Lore and Prophecies: ‘The chosen must come with specific ideas before any help may be given’.” Joel said it with such a deadpan that from the very first word, Skizz realized that he did not agree with that specific rule. “I’ve been trying to get that one changed, but some people don’t want to do away with it.”

He shot a short glare at the robed people, but quickly pulled his gaze back to the chosen one. Skizz followed that gaze and saw that the robed people did not flinch or even change their stance when Joel shot them a glare.

“But you’re a god-king,” Skizz argued. “Can’t you just change it?”

“When it concerns prophecies, I’m unfortunately bound to the interpretations of the Watchers,” Joel said and he waved in the direction of the trio. “Is there anything else I could help with?”

Skizz’s stomach chose that moment to growl so violently that it hurt. 

With this whole ordeal, Skizz had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be making dinner. He’d already been hungry when he arrived home, but he figured he’d be done cooking soon enough that he would be able to satiate his needs. However, he was a little occupied and didn’t currently have access to his stove. But his stomach did ache from the lack of food.

Perhaps this wasn’t a dream after all.

Skizz placed his hand on his belly and looked up at the god-king. “Do you have anything to eat?”

Chapter Text

The food was delicious.

Skizz ate everything they served him. Well, not everything: a couple of things that the palace staff served him seemed a little too strange to eat. Some weird purple shell apparently hid a hearty and tasty core, but Skizz had too much trouble breaking that shell open to taste it and he was too embarrassed to ask for help.

Every meal was introduced and described using all sorts of ingredients. Beyond the more mundane, Skizz recognized none of the ingredients. He could just about recognize some meats - beef and pork and chicken - but the more outlandishly named ingredients lost him. Some of them already tasted like something familiar, but with a weird touch or aftertaste that threw him off. He didn't get to ask, for most of the time, the food was already in his mouth. Still, he nodded and ate almost everything they placed in front of him - just enough to satiate him and not leave too many leftovers.

Afterward, right when he was about to get up from his seat and explore, one of those people with purple robes and hoods so far down he couldn’t see a face entered the room and approached him. One of the Watchers, if he heard that name correctly. His mind was still on the book he clutched. He hadn’t released it since he arrived, and hadn’t dared to open it since, either. What if something strange happened?

With the book closed, nothing weird seemed to happen, so he kept it closed. Instead, Skizz focused on the Watcher who approached him. They were different from the trio that were present for his arrival - this one appeared to be a little smaller and wider, yet the robe fit all the same and the hood obscured their face. For a second, Skizz feared they would trip over their robes.

“Welcome, Skizz Leman, to the Lore Kingdom,” their booming voice said. “I am Watcher Crann, and I have been tasked with showing you the way around the palace. If you would follow me.”

They did not wait for a response. Skizz had to run after them to follow.

The tour he received was brief. Though the layout at first glance seemed confusing and hard to follow, Watcher Crann made one thing abundantly clear: whichever room he wished to visit he only needed to think about, and he would arrive there after he’d turned the next corner. The palace itself didn’t seem to operate according to any building that Skizz had ever been in back home, but the Watcher had said it so often that Skizz didn’t need to fear forgetting it. It almost seemed like those words had been etched into his mind.

The tour ended in the courtyard; a magnificent place that was open to the public, where all sorts of people and creatures wandered and ambled around. Some, Skizz noticed, looked quite normal. Most others, however, had strange and unusual features. Some had animalistic features, such as beaks and claws and fins, while others had several limbs and other weird stuff that Skizz could barely see before his eyes were drawn to something even more extravagant. All these people had gathered here to do business, it seems, on an open market, trading all kinds of goods. Skizz and Watcher Crann stood upon a balcony, from which they could look over the bustling marketplace that seemed to come to a close, for the sun was slowly setting in the distance, bathing the whole palace and the courtyard in a gentle golden light that made everything ten times more beautiful, and all the people below so much more interesting to look at.

He was so interested he barely heard what Watcher Crann told him.

“That concludes our tour of the palace,” Watcher Crann said. “Is there anything else you desire to know?”

“A lot, actually,” Skizz said. “First off - where am I? I mean, Lore kingdom. Its palace, even. I got that. But where is here? What’s Hermiton exactly?”

The Watcher merely nodded and spoke in that same tone as before. “Our God-King made an admirable attempt to explain, though he too misses the nuances. He hasn’t seen the beginning, just as he is unaware of the end. His ascension and eventual deposition are nothing more than a blip in the currents of history.”

Skizz blinked once. “What?”

“He knows little,” the Watcher elaborated. “You have been brought here, to Hermiton. The God-King has likened it to Earth, but he conflated a whole world with a fraction of a continent.”

“There’s more out there?” Skizz could barely imagine what it would look like. The Lore Kingdom was one thing, but a whole wide world out there filled with all sorts of adventures and crazy places… The Lore Kingdom palace already blew his mind. What would these other places look like? What would they have to offer?

“Indeed,” Watcher Crann said. “More than even we are currently aware of. Hermiton is merely a continent, of which the Lore Kingdom occupies its space comfortably. Though its importance cannot be understated, it co-exists with several other powers. To the north, our restless neighbors of the Undead Republic hold the eternal darkness at bay. To the south, the brimstone barrens of the Fire Plains are forever cursed to bask in scorching daylight. To the east, we find the Ice Kingdom in a struggle for survival against the cold and the looming threat of loss of magic. To the west, the waters are dominated by the lawless who have claimed the Pirate Archipelago as their home.” Watcher Crann left a pause, to allow for Skizz to process all of that information. However, their pause was not that long, and they continued to speak. 

“Even so, other powers emerge every now and again. The Great Jungle encroaches on the established territories and threatens to swallow all over time. The Wildlands know no hierarchy and are only governed by the inherent laws of magic. The once great Demon Empire, now named the Evil Empire after its conqueror, have settled into a cycle of violence and trouble that is yet to be broken. Beyond those, many other micro-realms and nations may exist that we have yet to discover or make contact with.”

The Watcher looked expectantly at Skizz, who gave them the blankest stare he could possibly give them.

“You lost me at ‘co-exist’,” Skizz said sheepishly. He could feel the embarrassment rise; they just gave a lot of information believing that their chosen one would be able to process all of that information. He would just feel bad asking to have all of that repeated to him. 

Even so, Watcher Crann nodded once in what Skizz assumed to be understanding.

“You shall learn all of this anew in time,” they said. “For where you will go, you will learn this information again when and if it becomes relevant. I merely wished to introduce you to these concepts.”

“Okay. Sounds good,” Skizz said. Perhaps learning this information in bite-sized bits as he was traveling around - if that was indeed what this Watcher implied - might be the better pace for him to absorb everything that was just said in the span of a minute or so.

Skizz’s questions didn’t stop there. “So… you’re a Watcher?”

“That is indeed my title,” Watcher Crann nodded.

“So, what do you do exactly?”

Watcher. Such a strange title. How could they be doing so much watching when they couldn’t even properly see, with that hood constantly hanging in front of their faces? They might just know the palace better than anyone else, yes, but that didn’t mean that was entirely what this title encompassed. Of course, there was the added dimension of the book and the supposed war that was brewing within the Watcher community, but that was something Skizz could ask about later. First, he needed to understand what they were before he could get into the meat of it.

Fortunately, Watcher Crann seemed… well, not ‘happy’ happy to answer the question, since their tone remained neutral, but they weren’t unhappy with it, either.

“We are the Watchers of the Lore Kingdom. We peer into the Threads of Fate and see what will come to pass. We do not weave the future ourselves; rather, we unravel these threads to offer guidance to the God-King and any who would seek our help. Beyond this, we offer all sorts of psychic and psionic help and guidance.”

Okay. It would help if the Watcher spoke more plainly. With words that didn’t speak in metaphors. Still, Skizz thought he caught the gist of it.

“So you saw me coming to this world?” he asked.

“We foresaw your involvement in the coming war and advised our God-King to allow you to travel here.”

Well, that was mighty convenient for them. Not so much for him, though, for he just remembered what he was doing right before he got yanked into this strange and wonderful new world.

“Couldn’t you have picked a better moment?”

“You were invited into this world at the right moment.”

“My water’s still boiling on the stove, y’know. And I’ve got vegetables out of the fridge. They’re gonna go bad if no-one puts ‘em back.”

“That is of no concern to us,” Watcher Crann spoke with that same neutrality. “We only see beyond the borders of this realm when it concerns us. We do not know what will happen to your vegetables.”

“So you won’t know what people will think if they can’t find me?” Skizz wondered out loud. The thought hit him like a truck. He still had people he cared about in his own world, even if he didn’t see them very often. What would they say if they found out he wasn’t home anymore? Or anywhere to be found at all, for that matter? What would they do?

“We cannot see how your immediate environment reacts to your disappearance.” 

In this instance, Skizz did not particularly like the neutrality in their voice.

“Wh- does time even run differently here? Is that a thing? Is it like, one day here is one millisecond of a millisecond there, or perhaps the opposite, or are they kinda lining up?”

This time, Watcher Crann sighed briefly before they responded.

“The passage of time in your realm of origin is none of our concern.” The neutrality in his voice started to show cracks, a slight annoyance peeking through. “We glimpsed your involvement and shared this vital information with our King. He then proceeded to invite you into our world.”

“So you can see in the future here,  but not in my world?”

The Watcher nodded. “Precisely.”

Skizz leaned in just a little closer. “What will I have for breakfast?”

Once again, Watcher Crann did not immediately answer. “Whatever will be offered to you. Knowing our king, a banquet will await you come morrow.”

“Where will I be in four days, three hours, and thirty-seven minutes?” Skizz asked excitedly. “And ten seconds?”

The Watcher tilted their head slightly and folded their robed arms. Not even an inch of skin was visible. “Are you testing me?”

“Yeah! You can look into the future, that’s so cool!” Not only was it extremely cool, it was also very helpful to have a direct line with someone like this. Especially because Skizz, despite knowing how to navigate the palace now, still had no clue what he was supposed to do in this world to help make his prophecy come true. “I have so many questions! Who am I gonna be fighting? Who is this great Evil I’m gonna have to defeat? Do I get help, what kind of help do I get? Is there–?”

“We are burdened with seeing the future as it is presented to us,” Watcher Crann interrupted Skizz. “We cannot narrow our searches within our fields of interest or inquiry. Now, the tour has concluded, so you must excuse me–”

Watcher Crann moved to walk away, but Skizz still had questions for them.

“You’ve gotta be able to tell me something, right? I’m not gonna be traveling alone, am I? Are the people I’ll be traveling with nice?” He gasped dramatically. “Oh, are you gonna come with me? That’d be awesome.”

Watcher Crann turned to Skizz. Somehow, they seemed to grow a couple of inches. Were their robes always this dark of a purple or had that been a trick of the eye? 

“Skizz Leman, you are actively contributing to a distracting environment in which I cannot properly do my job, which is a violation of Watcher policies,” the Watcher said in a strict, authoritative tone. “For this transgression, you shall find that henceforth and until eternity, your sleeves no longer provide you with insulation or protection from whatever threats you may face.” 

An itch developed in the back of Skizz’s neck. He subconsciously raised his hand to scratch, but it soon disappeared. Or rather, it traveled down his neck to his shoulders and into his arms. A strange energy emanated from this itch that settled within his arms. He looked at them; not directly, because his sleeves were in the way.

“This concludes the tour,” Watcher Crann said. They seemed to have returned to normal. “For further questions, you may direct your attention elsewhere.”

With those words, Watcher Crann turned around and walked back through the door they just came from, leaving Skizz alone on the balcony. Skizz didn’t pay attention to the Watcher, since he had other concerns. What did they mean, his sleeves would no longer protect him? Yes, his arms were feeling just a little weird right now, but his sleeves were still present. His arms were still attached to his body. Once again, he did not fully understand what the Watcher had told him and at this point, it may be too quick to ask about it. Perhaps he would find out before he had the chance to ask.

Oh well. He’d figure it out. 

Skizz remained on the balcony for a while, watching the people below. They had no idea he stood there. From here, he could also see the city this palace overlooked. A nice, quaint town, it looked like, with creatures regularly flying over from one place to the other. Towering above it all was a floating tavern of sorts, with a retractable staircase made of clouds that spiraled down to the streets of the town, disappearing behind the tiled rooftops of the town.

He could have sworn he saw one of the houses stand up on its wooden legs to walk and sit on the other side of town.

Skizz couldn’t stay on the balcony forever, and the sun was quickly fading, so he walked back inside. Once he was back within the seemingly endless hallways of the Lore Palace, he wasn’t quite sure where he wanted to go. Perhaps he should go to the room they had assigned him - which he could use, free of charge, whenever he was passing through or staying in the Lore Palace while he was on his Watcher-given quest to defeat great evil.

What if he would go somewhere he hadn’t been yet? What would be a good place to go where there would be people at this hour (or rather, in the evening, because he had no idea what the time was right now)?

How about the stables? There’d be some animals there, and he figured the king may have some horses at his disposal. Skizz may be able to parse out what is considered an animal and what is considered a person, considering he’d seen all sorts of people with animalistic and otherworldly features that still baffled him. Perhaps he’d even meet whoever was in charge of taking care of these creatures and make a new friend! He would need a friend. The God-King Joel seemed a little distant and he definitely didn’t make a good impression on Watcher Crann. Still, his arms itched a little.

In any case, he thought about the stables and turned to the right. He followed the hallway that all of a sudden became shorter than it looked, making a turn to the left. Skizz followed it, still with the stables in mind, and followed the hallway to its end, where a plain wooden door awaited him, as it did so often.

Immediately upon opening the door, Skizz’s nose was assaulted by the smell of poop. He had wandered into the caretaker’s area of the stables, which seemed to perpetually reek of the feces of the creatures that were stabled here. A row of locked stable doors greeted him, and on the far left, he heard the noise of someone speaking to, presumably, whatever was stabled here.

Skizz courageously walked forward to take a look at the one directly in front of him and placed his hand against the cold wood. Through the window, he could see one of the largest creatures he’d ever seen in person. It was almost as big as a rhino, but it distinctly wasn’t a rhino. In fact, it was the only reference Skizz had in mind when he saw this beast. It seemed to lack a tail and its legs were large and muscular. However, Skizz was drawn to the beast’s head. Two horns protruded from it and a big clump of a nose rested on it as well. Its mouth was massive, and yet Skizz’s attention was drawn to those eyes. Those uncanny, eerily human-like eyes seemed to pierce into his very soul.

As soon as this beast spotted him, it rushed forward and smashed against the wood. Skizz yelped and jumped backward, pulling his hand close to his chest. He stared at the door in disbelief - with such force, why didn’t the wood break just then? How strong was the wood? Those beasts were too big not to have the strength to just barrel through the doors at any given moment.

“Careful with that!” A voice from his left said. “She can be a little feisty, so we usually give her some space.”

When Skizz turned his head, he was… well, not necessarily surprised to see someone that might have been human if not for that glaring non-humanness of their being, but he was definitely not expecting to behold the sight that he was beholding. A man ran up to him. What struck Skizz the most was that this man had no hair; instead, a flame seemed to be perpetually burning on his head. His eyes were just pools of red with no discernable pupils or irises, and a tail with a similarly flaming tip dangled from behind. Beyond that, this man wore the exact clothes one would imagine a zookeeper to wear. The man was holding a bucket with one hand and the other was in a pocket.

The caretaker was looking at Skizz, likely expecting to see someone he knew. Instead, a frown came on his face before his jaw literally dropped. Almost dropped the bucket, too, but he was quick enough to fumble with it for a second as it fell before he found purchase on the metal surface and grabbed it.

“Y-You’re human?” He stammered. After his initial panic had subsided, he cleared his throat and watched Skizz cautiously and curiously. “You are human, right? I’m not just assuming wildly inappropriate from a new face - did Zed send you?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean–” It was quite difficult to answer when the questions asked had ‘yes’ and ‘no’ as their respective answers. “I’m human. I wasn’t sent by anyone. Just wandering about.”

“Oh, fun,” the man said. “Just don’t wander into their enclosures. Trust me - they will bite.”

Something told Skizz this man spoke from experience, especially with the way he glanced to the stable doors on the far left. Perhaps that was where a currently ongoing small feud started. Or perhaps this man had already forgiven the creature, but how does one even survive a bite from such a creature? Unless it was a baby…

Focus, Skizz!  You’re having a conversation with a new person, try to keep that going. Maybe you’ll have a friend in no time.

“Y’know, why would being human be inappropriate?” Skizz asked. “I’m human, so… am I inappropriate?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean- that was the wrong word,” the man said, and he placed the bucket to the side to be able to gesture while he spoke. “I didn’t mean inappropriate, I meant something else. I meant– Okay, so… human?”

He spoke in such a tone that suggested he asked again, for confirmation. 

Skizz nodded. “Very human.”

“Very human. Okay.” The man rubbed his hands together, briefly glanced away. What thoughts were rushing through his mind? “What do you know about this world?”

“The Lore kingdom is this place. There’s other places, too. The Watchers saw me coming.” Skizz paused for a few seconds. “That’s it.”

The majority of the lore dump from the Watcher had already left his mind. He knew there were about five or so other different countries in this world, but that was the best he could do when recalling that information. Luckily, he would learn all of that throughout the adventure as well.

For a second, the man frowned, but then his eyes widened again.

“Oh, the Watchers saw you. so you’re the chosen one?” He held out a hand, waiting for Skizz to shake it. “Nice meeting you! You can call me Tango.”

At this point, with Crann and now Tango, he should expect the names to not be like they were at home. He kinda liked it, actually. That meant he wouldn’t come across any boring stereotypically human names. Like John. Or… whatever other boring names existed.

Skizz shook Tango’s hand. “Skizz.”

Tango nodded and gave him a warm smile. Now that Skizz thought about it, the hand was rather warm, as well.

“So, Skizz - first of all, welcome! Hope your stay has been good so far,” Tango said, gesturing around him. Skizz was sure he meant the palace and not just the stables. “Actually… how long have you been here?”

“I think it’s only been an hour and a half, or something like that,” Skizz said. “I’ve had a meal, then had a bit of a tour with Watcher Crann. Well, tour, they told me how to navigate the palace and then left.”

The mention of the Watcher was enough to pull his attention back to the strange feeling that lingered in his arm. It was a word mix of growing pains and numbness that he couldn’t quite place and didn’t really know how to deal with, either. It wasn’t like it was itching all that much and if he wasn’t paying attention to it, he definitely didn’t notice it. So, if he ignored it from now on, would that mean his problem would be solved? Hopefully, because he was gonna try that.

“So you’re very new,” Tango said. “Okay. If there’s anything you need to know - everything’s important, but this especially - everything here is suffused with magic. Drenched in it.”

Skizz’s mouth nearly dropped as far as Tango’s did. “Everything?” he whispered. “Including the door?”

He pointed at the stable door he’d placed his hand on - the one that the beast was unable to completely demolish, as it should have been able to. Still a little weird.

“Yeah, certainly.” Tango nodded. “I mean, it’s in everything and everyone. You don’t go looking like this without a bit of magic. So, base line, if you see anything or anyone for the first time, it’s got at least a sliver of magic in it, you can be sure of that.”

That opened up a whole world of possibilities. Everything was magic? That explained so much about this place! Skizz wasn’t that up-to-date on his fantasy lore and what the limits of this magic could be. Maybe there wasn’t even a limit and anything could happen. That was both so extremely exciting and a little terrifying, but more exciting than terrifying. 

Then the thought hit him.

“So am I magic now?” Skizz asked and Tango immediately shook his head.

“No, not yet. You basically just arrived, so you’ve got no magic right now.”

“Oh, because that’s important, isn’t it?” Skizz then asked. The gears in his head were turning and reaching a conclusion, which seemed to escape Tango who just stared at him with a confused gaze. "Right? I mean, I’m aware of this whole prophecy thing, I’ve been brought here because of it. So it must be important that I have no magic to defeat this evil that I’m supposed to defeat.”

“Not really,” Tango responded with a shrug. “I think it just means we really do need you to fight evil.”

Oh. So he didn’t need to not have magic; so he could use magic. Awesome! Now he just needed a fancy magic sword, some serious training with that sword to become super awesome with it, and then he’d be set! Although, there was one slight hitch in that plan, and that was the vagueness of this whole ordeal.

“Now we’re on the topic… what would you say is incredibly evil that needs some butt-kicking?”

Skizz looked at Tango expectantly, hoping for an immediate response like he’d received before. Instead, Tango stared at him - though this time, he knew something. Skizz could sense it.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Tango said.

“Absolutely!” Finally, someone who got it! Yes, he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing. “I’ve tried to ask Watcher What’s-Their-Face and they were extremely vague. And Joel won’t help, either.” Skizz frowned. “King Joel. Is it appropriate to call him Joel? I don’t know.”

“Not to his face. In his presence, he prefers ‘my liege’.” Tango bowed slightly, as some sort of mockery of bowing before the God-King, as the Watcher had called their ruler. “Beyond that, you can call him what you want.” 

Tango then folded his arms, looked at Skizz up and down, nodding to himself. “You know what? I’ll help you out.”

Skizz gasped. “Really?”

“Yeah. You need the help, you need someone who knows the land and to be honest, I could use a vacation.”

Skizz glanced around the room. If this was what Tango was doing all day every day, then he could understand why he would want to get away. Especially when those stabled creatures are dangerous enough to want to eat your face off.

“So this is your day job?”

“Yep. Nobody knows how to handle the ravagers like I can. I just need a little bit of magic-” He pulled one hand out of his pocket, showing off some sort of playing card and twirling it in his fingers. Skizz couldn’t get a good look at it, for it soon disappeared into Tango’s pocket again. “-and they’re as good as docile. Well, most of the time.” 

Tango glanced at the door where the ravager lived that Skizz had agitated before turning his gaze to the visitor again. “But I’m just about done here, so I’m ready to help you out. Oh, we should definitely ask Zed if he wants to come, too. It would be so helpful!”

Skizz nodded enthusiastically. “I have no idea who that is.”

“You have to meet him. I’ve got a feeling you’ll hit it off right away.”

“Yeah, baby!” Skizz pumped his arms into the air. “I’ve got some help!”

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air. It was a quick sound, rapidly unfolding. Before either Skizz or Tango knew what was going on Skizz could feel how the sleeves of his suit - now detached - slithered off of his arms, jumped away from him, and disappeared within one of the many ravager pens. At the exact same time, that strange energy within his arms - that had only bothered him when he truly focused on it and was even kinda present during this whole conversation - disappeared. As though the sleeves fleeing from his suit lifted this strange pressure that Watcher Crann had put upon him.

Somehow, it felt good to be rid of the sleeves. His first instinct was to go after them, but his second was to stay still. He didn’t need sleeves; he could go without them just as easily.

Or perhaps that was Watcher Crann’s magic making him think like that…

Oh well. It didn’t bother him, either way. He could do this, with or without sleeves.

“That’s weird,” Tango said. Then, not even a second later: “Let’s go to Zed.”

“Let’s do that!” Skizz said enthusiastically, and he followed Tango to wherever this Zed was living.

Chapter Text

The walk to where this Zed lived was rather short. Because of course it was short, Skizz was following Tango who had the location in mind and guided him. The next door they walked through, they entered a strange room.

Cluttered, with half-finished contraptions stacked on top of one another in perfect balance, even if it should look like they should not be able to be stacked like that. To the side, there stood a set-up that Skizz would liken to a medieval or magical drug lab alchemical-like set-up. Just intriguing and interesting enough to draw Skizz’s attention, but not enough to address the… well, not the elephant, but the sheep in the room.

Turning his head when the door opened, this sheep-man looked. The face was very much human, but he had the white sheep hair and the floppy sheep ears and a coarse brown shirt beneath a lab coat. He lifted safety goggles off of his eyes and looked with an acquired interest at the people who’d entered his room.

“Hi, Zed!” Tango greeted him.

“Hello, Tango! Welcome back to my humble abode.” Though he spoke to the stablemaster (if Tango was a stablemaster), his gaze was firmly on Skizz. That piercing, curious gaze almost made Skizz feel like he was standing there naked.

“Are you a sheep man?” Skizz blurted out.

“Of course not!” Zed responded. “I want you to know, I’m only 77 percent sheep.” Then, he gasped. “Wait a second…”

Zed closed the gap in an instant with those sheep legs of him, but when he pulled a little magnifying glass, his hands were fully human, complete with five fingers. Skizz glanced at Tango, who just watched with a curious glance, paying more attention to Zed than to Skizz. Zed, in the meantime, seemed to inspect every inch of Skizz with that magnifying glass, speaking to himself in the process.

“Four appendages… no tail, no horns… rounded ears… no fins, gills… no wings, either…” Zed put the magnifying glass away and looked at Skizz as though he was a unicorn. “You, sir, are fully human!”

Skizz nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

Was that something to be proud of? He didn’t know, but Zed didn’t seem to think it was bad, so it was good to keep that.

Zed held out a vial - where did he get that from - and almost pushed it into Skizz’s hands. “If you would please spit in this vial?”

“Take it easy on him,” Tango butted into the conversation. “He’s only arrived today.”

Another gasp escaped Zed’s mouth. “A very new human.” He produced another vial from another pocket. “If you would also please urinate–”

“ZED!”

Zed turned to Tango. “He’s the most unaffected human in this world, Tango, he’s going to give me the best samples! I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this.”

“Who says those samples won’t be affected?” Tango questioned.

“I say so,” Zed said with the confidence of a child set out to eat as many candies in one sitting.

“Samples? Affected?” Skizz said. “What are you talking about?”

Was being a human that rare here? Based on Zed’s attention, it likely was. What was the reason for that?

“Oh, where are my manners?” Zed then said. He took Skizz’s free hand and forcibly shook it. “You can call me Zedaph, or Zed. Welcome to Hermiton! You are a human completely without magic, but not for long! It won't take long before the magic of this world will start to assault and batter you until you are no longer human.”

Skizz stared blankly at Zed. “What?” How was he supposed to process all of that information?

“Non-lethally, of course,” Zed continued, as though that was what Skizz was referring to. “And not harmful, either. Unless you have ill intentions toward magic.” He leaned in a little closer and narrowed his eyes. “Do you have ill intent toward magic?”

“No?” It was difficult to say. Magic has been wonderful from what Skizz had seen, so he had no ill intent right now. Of course, if magic was used to hurt him, that would be a whole different matter - but as of right now, he would say that magic was pretty great.

“Excellent!” Zed exclaimed, going back to his chipper self. “Then that’s settled! It’ll just mean that you’ll become what you may call weird.”

“Hey, er, Zed?” Tango drew his attention again. “Didn’t you have that necklace right here?”

“Oh, right!” Zed clapped his hands together. He disappeared behind his piles of clutter and swiftly returned with a beautiful necklace. Chains of some sort of blue-ish metal that Skizz was certain did not exist on Earth, with a blue gemstone that seemed to hum gently and be completely silent at the same time. Rather pretty.

“This, my new friend, is the state of the art expertly crafted magic necklace,” Zed said. “None of that was me. However, I’ve been tasked with its safekeeping until the time comes to pass it along to a human who may need it. Today is that day.”

He handed the necklace to Skizz, who stared at it. Then, he lifted his head again. “What does this do?”

“Oh, this little thing will allow you to walk around within these lands without being overwhelmed by magic. I’m not sure how long it would take, but this would at least make your passive intake of magic all the more bearable. It also stores all the excessive magic that would’ve grabbed a hold of you long before it can even reach you, so you can traverse these lands a little more safely. Truly a quality make.”

Skizz watched it all turning it to see every inch. He put it on and nodded when Zed was done speaking. “This is awesome! Thanks, dude.”

“Oh, no problem,” Zed said.

“What we actually came here for…” Tango said, placing his hand on Skizz’s back. “Zed, this is–”

“The chosen one, of course!” Zed said. “Why else would a human show up in the Lore Kingdom and be brought before me within a very short amount of time? Wouldn’t make any sense.”

That was something Skizz could not disagree with. At least, the appearance of humans didn’t seem to be so common, so at least Zed was on the right track.

“That’s a good observation,” Skizz said. “Tango says we could use your help while we’re traveling the world to… we were gonna gather support, right?”

He didn’t know why he wanted to check with Tango, but it seemed important enough to check. Tango was nodding along to what Skizz was saying and took the opportunity to start explaining the matter himself. Which Skizz was grateful for, as Tango knew Zed better than he did.

“Exactly,” Tango said. “The plan is to travel all across Hermiton to gather support. I expect a lot of weird and crazy situations. We’d love to have you around for it.”

Zed immediately became even more enthusiastic, if that even was possible.

“I’d love to travel with you”, he said. “I’d wager we’re gonna be the best team! Oh, thank you so much for the invitation. I’ve been dying to get out of this place for a while.”

Skizz didn’t mind the emphasis on dying - for all he knew, dying in this place wasn’t so bad. Or perhaps being in this location was not as great for Zed as Skizz had thought. He seemed extremely happy to be here, from what little exposure Skizz had gotten from this weird alchemist or scientist type part-sheep man. No, Zed seemed to be happy to be here, so it might just be a turn of phrase where he’d apparently emphasized the ‘dying’ to a point that made Skizz put way too much thought into just one inconsequential word.

“Awesome!” Tango said, taking Skizz out of the thoughts that had gone way off the rails. “Now, for the first step of this journey - ask Joel for help.”

It turns out, Joel could be a stickler for wording sometimes. They quickly ran Skizz through the basics and assured him that he would be okay. And, if something Skizz was worried about or had questions about, Tango and Zed could easily fill him in at any point before, during or after asking Joel for help.

In a moment where the two friends were deep in discussion about something that didn’t quite matter to the topic of conversation, Skizz did spit into the vial for Zed. He wasn’t sure if either of them noticed he put the vial somewhere on a tower of contraptions.

Then, after that quick crash course, they were off to the throne room. Which, as per usual, was a short walk. He could really get used to how quick the trips were from one place to another, it really cuts back on travel time. Why couldn’t that be a thing on Earth? Would make things a whole lot easier.

When he finished that thought, he already stood in front of the decorated double doors that lead into the throne room. Skizz held up his hand to knock, but Tango stepped forward and touched the door. Apparently, at the merest touch, the double doors already slowly swung open, and granted the three access to the throne room.

As expected, the god-king Joel sat on his throne, lounging and likely just enjoying his peace and quiet as the monarch of this country. He noticed how Joel sat up straight to appear more regal and straightened the fabric of his toga. Glancing around the space, Skizz saw nobody else. No Watchers here, just the god-king on his throne.

“Your lordship,” Skizz addressed the god-king, remembering that he liked to be flattered. At the same time, he bowed. Perhaps a little too deeply, but you shouldn’t take any risks when it comes to a literal god who could probably smite you for wearing the wrong color on Thursdays.

A glance at Zed and Tango made clear that these formalities were not necessary. At least, they weren’t bowing excessively for their god, so Skizz quickly straightened his back again. Even though it wasn’t necessary, Joel seemed pleasantly surprised and pleased.

“Ah, Skizz Leman!” Joel said. “I see you’ve made some friends already. That’s very good.”

Skizz cleared his throat. “Your gracehood, I have a very important question to ask.”

An awkward silence fell over them.

“Which is?” Joel prompted when it was going too slow for him again.

“I’ve come to officially ask for your help in my quest. Or quests.” There could always be multiple quests that Skizz would be sent on. Help with all of them would be great. “Wait, that wasn’t a question. Will you help me?”

Joel sighed in relief.“Thank goodness, I thought you’d never ask!” He let out a laugh. “I was wondering when you would.”

Skizz frowned. “You didn’t tell me to ask!”

Really, he started to like the attitude of the king less and less. The king and his kingdom, very fun, as well as the people within his  kingdom. But this whole god-king attitude regarding Skizz and everything he was supposed to do was slowly getting old. How was Skizz supposed to know to ask? Without Tango or Zed, he would have never jumped to that conclusion because he was not given any instructions. 

“You’re the chosen one,” Joel argued. “You’re supposed to figure out on your own that you can’t actually do this on your own and that you need help. It’s all part of it.” Joel nodded once, resuming with that same bombastic and regal tone he had used during their first meeting. “But yes, I shall offer you aid.”

Skizz triumphantly pumped his hands in the air. “Yeah!”

Mission accomplished, baby! Though he wondered why neither Zed nor Tango were celebrating along with him. Perhaps it was not yet over…

“But first, you must do something for me,” Joel said.

Dang it, there was a catch!

Joel must have noticed Skizz’s disappointment. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s the rule of reciprocity in full effect. When you ask a favor or help from someone, you must be willing to perform one task for that person in turn. Do you accept?”

“I do!” What choice did he have?

“Wonderful!” Joel said. “In exchange for my aid in your fight against evil, you must retrieve a ring.”

“Is that it?” The words left his mouth before his mind caught up. That was a rather easy task. Unless it was a Lord of the Rings type situation, in which case it would become way more complicated. Was there even a volcano in Hermiton to throw it into?

“This ring is of grave importance to me. If I’m not mistaken, it has been left in the Church of Cod, near the shoreline.” Joel paused for a second. “I do really need to get it back.”

“Oh, so it’s somewhere along the shoreline?” That was already more help than Skizz had expected from the god-king. It was a start, at least, even if he didn’t know how far away the shoreline was or where even this church of cod was located. Eh, Zed and Tango could tell him.

“It is,” Joel said. “I haven’t really got a time limit, but I would like to have it back as soon as possible. It’s a rather sensitive topic, so I’d rather you don’t ask me.”

Well, that did nothing to quell the millions of questions in Skizz’s mind. Zed and Tango - who still hadn’t said a word, perhaps they wanted for Skizz to talk through this whole conversation - did seem to have an idea what this was referring to, so he could always ask them. Because Joel could not just say that and not elaborate, that was just cruel.

Joel took the silence as an agreement to his terms. 

“But it has grown late. You might wanna go to bed and make sure you’re well-rested for the journey.”

Skizz found himself agreeing with Joel. Even though he wasn’t feeling particularly tired, he agreed with the king. He definitely needed to be well-rested for this journey. Zed and Tango agreed as well, because when Skizz turned around, the two were already walking away as well. Skizz could always speak to them in the morning. For now, it was time to go to bed and to rest up.

The walk was rather short. Then again, any walk through the palace was short, because Skizz was thinking about his bedroom and that was literally right next door.

The room, which he’d only glanced in because Watcher Crann was eager to finish the tour, was rather spacious. Complete with a couch, a window overseeing a mountain range in the distance from where tiny plumes of smoke rose, and a king-size bed with cerulean bed sheets. Taking off his shoes, the floors were pleasantly warm, as was the temperature in this room. His room in the palace, for as long as he needed it.

In this silence, he found a moment of peace.

A moment of reflection.

Had he even had a moment to think about all that had happened since he’d come home? How did all of this even happen?

Okay. A moment to breathe and to just go over everything.

Coming home. Stressful day at work. Cooking didn’t quell his frustrated brain and so he sat down to read a book.

Cue the god-king and a massive hand that dragged him into Hermiton. Cue all the news and the knowledge they wished to stomp into his brain in a matter of minutes. Most of what he had caught was that Joel was a god and the King of the Lore Kingdom, and Skizz himself the chosen one.

Then, dinner. Because he was still hungry.

And a quick jaunt through the palace. Through the halls that only needed a thought to navigate to your destination. From the Watcher’s care to the stables, where he met a new buddy with a flaming tail and hair. And where he lost his sleeves, but that was neither here nor there. Then an overly enthusiastic not-quite sheep-man, after which they helped him to find a way to get help from Joel. Then, to bed.

And only a couple of hours have passed since then.

Andy’s copy of ‘the war of the watchers’ had survived so far.

Skizz plopped down on the softest bed he had ever been on - it was so impossibly soft! - and took the book that came with him. The first few pages he had read had remained the same, but he could have sworn that the book itself had been fifty or so pages shorter. At least, the volume hadn’t changed, but when he turned to the final page, a different number was printed than the one he’d looked up back at home.

Already, the book was changing under the influence of the land’s magic. How quickly would it grip him?

The necklace sat comfortably upon his chest. It was rather strange - Skizz could barely feel it there and had already forgotten three times over that he was wearing it. It could protect him from the magic. Not that he felt any particular animosity towards it (hey, he’d already lost his sleeves, couldn’t get any worse), but it was all just… strange.

Guess that was the overarching feeling. Strange. It was strange.

And wonderful, too. A life that did not require him to be locked into an office, stressing over projects that must be finished despite lacking resources. It was a welcome change of pace, at least, to travel a strange land and have some awesome adventures with a bunch of cool people by his side. In the end, it would all lead to the downfall of evil. Who wouldn’t want that?

Skizz put the book aside. Tomorrow, the adventure would start in earnest. 

He couldn’t wait.

Chapter Text

When Skizz woke up, he was still at the Lore palace.

He would’ve thought he’d wake up at home. His head lying in a half-cut pile of cucumber, one of the slices stuck to his cheek as he desperately tried to salvage a half-prepared meal from total incineration. Fortunately, he didn’t find himself in that awkward situation. Instead, he was still in this magical world.

He didn’t need much. He checked that he was still wearing the necklace - he was - and that he had his book - he did - before he left for breakfast. At breakfast, he had a wide variety to choose from, all kinds of food that tasted just as good as the last thing he had eaten. Soon enough, both Tango and Zed joined him. It was still a little weird to see them like that, with flaming hair and about seventy percent sheep, but he figured he would get used to it real soon. If he was going to be traveling with them, he would have to.

Fortunately, he wouldn’t need to worry about supplies. Joel had his watchers create a helpful backpack that contained everything Skizz would ever need in case he would go on a hike that lasted three months. Perhaps so many supplies was a little excessive, but if it meant he had enough of those tasty sandwiches (which, with the help of some magic placed on the backpacks, wouldn’t go bad) it was all good to him. He could get used to a magical backpack that did not weigh much and still contained everything they needed not to starve.

King Joel himself watched them leave, as was apparently prescribed. Skizz waved them all goodbye - the king, the watchers, and any interested civilians who wanted to see the chosen one in the flesh.

And then, it was off to a grand adventure with his new friends, to retrieve a ring and secure themselves some help from the Lore Kingdom.

“I have some questions,” Skizz said.

“Sure,” Tango said. “What do you want to know exactly?”

Everything. But that was likely not the greatest goal to have in mind. So, instead, Skizz focused on what he knew he should ask about because it was rather relevant.

“So, what’s Joel’s deal?” Skizz wondered out loud. “What’s up with this ring he wants us to get back? Why is it in a church?”

“Oh, that's where Joel married the ocean,” Zed said.

Skizz almost stopped walking while he tried to figure out what exactly that meant. What did happen was that he continued to walk at the same pace, but with a face of pure confusion and bewilderment at what was very much meant to be a casual statement. Zed had said it so matter-of-factly, and Tango did not pull any weird faces, either. It was safe to assume that this was common knowledge and seen as not weird.

To be fair, Skizz would like to know what would be considered weird in this place. 

On second thought, maybe he wouldn’t like to know.

“...the ocean,” he eventually said. That was what his mind latched onto. Joel married the ocean. Did that mean the whole ocean, or just a part of it? What about international waters, did he marry that part too? How would such a marriage even work? Why was he asking so many questions about this topic? Why did he try to apply logic to a world that operated on a completely different set of logics than he was used to?

“Oh yeah,” Zed said, nodding.

Skizz frowned. “How does that even happen?”

“Usually, when people get married, it includes a ritual where both parties exchange vows in which they swear to love each other no matter what happens in the future. It also includes exchanging rings as a symbol of love unending,” Zed explained as though Skizz came from a place that did not have any marriage vows or rituals. However, Skizz’s blank stare was enough for Zed to realize Skizz wasn't wondering about how a marriage worked.

“Oh, the church! Right, a visitor built that one. He’s the one who called it a church, though I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s prevalent where he came from. He was a human, too.” He paused for a second. “What's a church, anyway?”

“A church?” Skizz said. “That’s... a place of worship. You pray to a god there. Church service on Sunday. Community comes together. But you said he was human?”

Zed listened with great curiosity and though he clearly was interested in the topic, he was currently more interested in answering Skizz’s question and giving him the answers he wished for.

“Yeah, that was a human man. We still don't know how he got here, though. When we finally found him, this church had been built and he'd gone quite insane. He’d already transformed into some sort of aquatic creature and dedicated the church to the Cod. Though, in hindsight, you’ve mentioned a god, so maybe all of us misheard it when he was talking. He did have a rather raspy voice at that point, couldn’t really understand him well. The ocean did grow fond of him. Perhaps she helped him become more aquatic.”

Zed then turned to Tango. “Hey, Tango, wasn’t this church where Joel first met the ocean?”

He hadn’t said a word yet - Skizz assumed that meant that Tango agreed with everything Zed had been talking about and that he did not wish to add or amend anything that had been said. 

Tango nodded. “Yeah, they met there. That’s why they married there, too, I think. It wasn't too far from the ocean itself.”

That was lovely and thoughtful. So the ocean did not need to travel too far inland to attend their own marriage. Still, Skizz had a hard time visualizing what had actually happened during this wedding ceremony.

“I’m gonna assume the ocean looked like a person or something,” Skizz said.

“They did, for the ceremony,” Zed said. “I was there, they looked beautiful! They chose to go as a blue axolotl, which is-- not sure if you know, but it is extremely rare and seen as a sign of good luck.”

“So…” Skizz then said, leaving a bit of a pause while he tried to find the right words to concisely share his thoughts. “We’re basically here to finalize his divorce, is what I’m hearing.”

“Basically,” Tango confirmed.

Okay. Skizz thought he was starting to understand what they were supposed to be doing. A guy from his world came, built a church of Cod (or god, if he was not speaking well), and became a fish or sea creature of some kind. The ocean took him in and Joel came to look and there they fell in love. They married in the building where they first met, but later divorced - or they are in the process of getting divorced either way.

“What happened?” Skizz asked. “Why are they getting divorced?”

“We don’t talk about that,” Tango was quick to say. “Look, all you need to know is that the Lore Kingdom used to have a bit more territory to the west.”

To the west. Where the ocean was located. Skizz thought he knew what Tango was alluding to. 

So it was some sort of messy divorce, huh?

“I’m sure it didn't help that Joel ordered his troops to stab the water after that,” Zed added. The way he was speaking had grown a little more intimate and sorrowful, as though he remembered what happened after that. It did not give Skizz a good feeling about this divorce.

“Did those people die?” he wondered. That was one of the thoughts that hadn’t crossed his mind yet. This world he had entered had been amazing and whimsical and fun so far. So much so that it was easy to forget that actual people lived here, and likely also died here. He hadn’t expected a reckless action to be the cause of death of some people - would stabbing the water of the ocean even hurt, or was it just the statement from a bitter or emotional god?

“Only some,” Zed replied in that same sober tone. “Yeah, some were drowned. Others just drenched. Those were the lucky ones.” Zed shuddered once, trying to shake off the thoughts that crossed his mind.

Tango took that as a sign to take over. “Hey, if Joel thinks the ring is in the church, that's where we’ll find it. It's not uncommon for divorcees to leave their rings at the location where they were married. Unfortunately, that church is now also located underwater, so we’ll have to come up with a plan.”

“Okay,” Skizz said, nodding once. “So, we’re just gonna swim there, or... is it far from the shore?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Tango said. “I guess we'll have to see when we arrive.”

Skizz could tell Tango didn’t sound too enthusiastic about entering the water. For a second, he wondered why Tango would not want to go underwater when he realized that he’s got literal fire for hair. That might be an issue.

Or maybe it wouldn’t be. Skizz didn’t know the extent of the magic that Tango had, so it was difficult to tell what would be an issue at this point and what would not be. In either case, neither Tango nor Zed had anything else to say about this situation and Skizz didn’t want to sour the mood even more with pointed questions about what happened to those the ocean had taken.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine it. He imagined the soldiers marching to the shoreline. One short order from a commander and they drew their swords. They waded into the water and started to plunge them into the water. For the longest time, needlessly puncturing the water, wondering what the point was. Two buddies talked to each other about what kind of nonsense this was. Then, the water receded abruptly. The buddies stared at it, dumbfounded, and one wondered whether their actions had actually caused the ocean pain. Their comrades and brothers in arms were just as shocked.

A cry from the commander drew their attention. Not an order, but a warning to run. Most listened  but some stood around confused. In the end, they all ran from the tidal wave that rushed to crush them.

It almost felt like Skizz could physically hear their cries. Almost felt like the water seeped into his lungs through his closed lips - closed to keep the water out.

“Skizz? Breathe.”

A firm and warm hand on shoulder, a gentle squeeze. Skizz opened his mouth and gasped for air while Tango placed his second hand on Skizz's back. The feeling of water in his lungs was dispelled, but not instantly. Deep breaths brought him back to the present, cleared his mind. When he looked around he didn't see a shoreline and no water. Only the rolling verdant hills, a tree every now and again, and the concerned faces of Zed and Skizz.

“Drink this,” Zed said, giving Skizz a vial with a deep purple liquid. “When you're ready, of course. Take your time.”

“What just happened?” Skizz asked.

“You were living a memory, weren't you?” Tango said. “It’s never good to think about the past, especially negative ones. It tends to swallow you whole.”

“What I just have you will temporarily ward off those memories,” Zed added. “They're quite nasty sometimes, tend to cling to ya. Now you know, it shouldn’t be too much trouble. And if you drink the elixir, you'll definitely be left alone for a day or two.”

Skizz nodded. He didn't understand half of what they were saying, but he knew now that he probably shouldn't be thinking too much about the past of this place. What would have happened if it persisted? Would he have drowned, like some of them likely had? Would he–?

He pulled the cork from the vial and dumped its contents into his mouth. He couldn't risk falling back down that rabbit hole.

He could already feel the effect. Somehow, he felt a little lighter and the need to think about those memories was diminished. And, weirdly, he started to feel less sticky, too. Felt rather nice, actually. That felt a lot better than he was before. Tango and Zed did keep an eye on him for a little while longer, and he was grateful for their concern. He was feeling fine, though, and they soon backed off and spontaneously started to share some minor details about the landscape and the world so that something like this wouldn't happen again.

In the late afternoon of the third day of travel, a trail of smoke drew their attention. As they approached, they could see a little campsite in the distance. A campfire had been lit and three people seemed to be relaxing near it. A couple of stacked crates stood behind them, some closed and others shut. Skizz wondered whether it would be a good idea to approach them - he still wasn’t sure what this world’s etiquette was around approaching strangers - but neither Zed nor Tango seemed to have too much against going over there. In fact, it seemed like they were at least a little familiar with these people.

The folks around the campfire were a strange bunch. Skizz's gaze was drawn to the woman first, for she was the most imposing of the three. Two eagle wings sprouted from her back and were currently folded in her back, her legs proper bird legs with bird feet with what looked like sharp claws. She stood around and was sharpening her sword. Her blond hair reached to her waist and a pair of goggles rested atop her head. She watched them with… well, with eagle eyes, though her stance was rather relaxed. 

The men with her were quite a sight as well. At first glance, they seemed to be humanoid, but upon closer inspection, key details betrayed them. One stood nearby three crates stacked on top of each other, rummaging through the top one. He had short black hair, pale pointy ears coming out from underneath. Piercing blue eyes looked up at Skizz with mild curiosity, as though they laid his soul bare at just a glance. Skizz could swear he saw some spectral wings poking out from his back, tiny and electric blue and ethereal - but he blinked and the wings were gone. On his neck, almost hidden by his collar, a particularly nasty bruise that was so dark blue that it looked like his bruise developed bruises, tiny light blue dots. 

The other man was sitting at the campfire, but stood up when the visitors approached. He was taller, with long majestic brown hair that a non-existent breeze seemed to play with at all times. A wide grin spread across his scarred face like the Cheshire cat’s and mischief twinkled in his eyes. It almost looked like his shadow moved on its own, but his flowing purple wizard robes that were way too long for him drew more attention.

“Well, hello there!” the wizard said loudly, the wind carrying his words to the approaching travelers. “Travelers of the Lore Kingdom, might we perhaps bend your ear for just a bit?”

“No, but we’re willing to listen,” Tango said immediately. Skizz was taken aback with how direct Tango spoke, but the smile on his lips betrayed that there was no bad blood between them. Even if this wizard now seemed mildly disappointed. “How’s it going, Scar?”

“We’re doing well,” the wizard - Scar responded. “Business is booming, as usual. Going where the travelers are going was a very good tip.”

“You’re welcome,” Tango said. He was glancing around the camp, potentially looking for something. “And how’s Jellie doing? Where is she?”

Scar’s grin faltered. “Oh, you know her. If she’s not here, she’s out there. You know how she can be.”

Tango nodded knowingly, as did Skizz. Even though Skizz didn’t know who this ‘Jellie’ was, they must mean a lot to the wizard. He could only hope the two of them didn’t have some big fight or something that made Jellie walk away.

“I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Tango said in comfort. Then, he turned his attention to the other man. “Hiya, Cub!”

“Hi, guys,” the other man said. The conversation naturally gravitated towards Cub, and both Tango and Zed engaged in conversation with him. The unnamed woman just watched it all unfold and continued to sharpen her already sharp-looking sword.

And Skizz could feel Scar’s gaze almost literally burn into his back. if he didn’t know any better - and, let’s be clear, it might actually be the case - his back was smoking from Scar just staring at him. Skizz turned around and met his way too curious gaze that almost begged him for a conversation of his own. It seemed Tango and Zed seemed to have Cub covered, speaking about making deals and discussing payments. Skizz was not needed in that conversation, which freed him up to indulge in the wizard.

“Hi,” he said to Scar, approaching him a bit more closely.

“Hello,” Scar said. He leaned in a little closer. “Excuse me, but are you a full human?”

“Yes, sir!” Skizz said with a direct and affirmative nod. He suppressed the urge to salute. 

Scar’s interested eyes widened even more - that didn’t seem quite possible - and that grin somehow became a little more curious. A shiver ran down Skizz’s spine when it almost looked slightly predatory. Yet, that tiny hint disappeared as soon as Scar started to speak.

“Oh, that’s so… very interesting,” Scar said. He quickly glanced to his side, where Cub, Tango and Zed were still talking. “And have you been here for a long time, or…?”

“Oh, I just arrived here,” Skizz said. “I’m the chosen one.”

“Are you now?” Scar said. “You know, I’m sure the chosen one has a name, but if you’ve already mentioned it, I didn’t quite catch it. So, may I have your name?”

Skizz nodded. “Sure. I’m Skizz!”

“Skizz.” Scar tested the name. “Oh, okay. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, but it does kinda hang in there pleasantly. Skizz. I could get used to that.” He looked at the chosen one and gave a slow nod. “Well, thank you very much, good sir.”

The chosen one nodded as well and let his gaze glide over the little encampment: over the crates, the campfire, the bird woman who was still sharpening her sword - wasn’t she done? She’s been doing that since they arrived, likely since before they even saw their visitors. Wasn’t it already sharp enough? Why did she even sharpen it?

Focus . His thoughts were drifting again. He refocused on the crates, where Cub pulled some sort of pearl from the crates and showed it to Zed and Tango. Zed almost instantly reached out to take one, but Cub slapped the hand away and the conversation continued.

“So, this is your business, huh?” the chosen one said. “Traveling merchants? Is that your whole thing?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Scar said, leaning against… the chosen one couldn’t quite see what he was leaning against, likely something invisible that the merchant knew was there. “Me and Cub and False over there. Oh, don’t mind her. She doesn’t talk too much, but she’s hanging around. She’s quite fun, actually, once you get to know her. She’s also our bodyguard.”

“Your bodyguard?”

The chosen glanced at the bird woman - False - again. She looked at him, narrowed her eyes. He instantly turned his head again. Scar, unaware of this interaction, rambled as a response to the chosen one’s words.

“It’s always good to have a harpy around, especially one that’s in debt. You never know what can happen on the road. These are troubling times, especially for us travelers.” Scar nodded to himself, reminiscing about all sorts of things that the chosen one could only fathom.

“In general, life on the road is a lot of fun. No roots anywhere, lots of juicy gossip wherever we go.”

A moment of silence dominated their space, at which point Scar gasped at something that he likely thought was exciting. He leaned in closer to the chosen one and lowered his voice and used a more conspiratorial tone. “Did you know that xB has now officially sworn that the unicorn may never approach his lake again without repercussions?”

The chosen one blinked a couple of times.

“...Okay?” he said with a slight frown. “Is that… is that important?”

Scar nodded fervently. “It definitely is! Especially for Keralis. Boy, does that unicorn love that lake. Unfortunately, its guardian doesn’t like the unicorn too much and now his magic compels Keralis to stay far, far away from it. He’s gonna be pissed about that for a very long time.”

“Did he do something to the lake?” That was the only logical conclusion the chosen could come to. Why else would this guardian not want the unicorn to be at its shore?

For a few seconds, Scar remained silent. Then, he shrugged. “Not that I know of. I just know that xB wasn’t very happy with Keralis’ presence.”

“Huh.” The chosen one would guess that made sense in this world. Somehow. He lost his sleeves because one person was annoyed, it didn’t seem too far-fetched that someone would try to make sure that someone else wasn’t invading their personal space (or lake) anymore.

“Do you have any gossip to share?” Scar then asked. “I’m always in the market for some.”

“Er… no?”

The chosen one wracked his brain, but he couldn’t find anything that might interest this merchant. All he had were old office stories that in this wonderfully weird world likely wouldn’t resonate as well.

Scar shrugged. “What a shame. Perhaps next time you’ve got a story to tell.” He sighed dramatically before he regained his composure and vigor. “Would you like to buy a crystal?”

From a hidden pocket in his robes, he pulled out a crystal. It had the stereotypical shape of a diamond, but instead of the pale blue, it had a purple-green-ish sheen. It looked so pretty - one of the prettiest gemstones he had ever seen, shimmering with a pulsating energy that resonated with the tiny gem on the chosen one’s own magic-absorbing necklace.

“What does it do?” The chosen one asked, eyes wide.

“No!” Tango’s voice called out. Before the chosen one could truly react, Tango had pushed past him and interposed himself between Scar and the chosen. He turned his head to the chosen one.

“No, we’re not buying their crystals.” Then, Tango turned to Scar. “C’mon, man! He’s been here for only a day or two. Give him a break.”

Scar nodded knowingly, as though he listened to everything Tango said.

“All the more reason to protect yourself from evil,” he said in a sing-song voice, waving the crystal around. It left a trail of that energy for but a second, which the chosen one was looking at.

“We’re not dealing with evil yet,” Tango said. “We’ll be able to manage ourselves, thank you very much.” He looked at his wrist, as though he was looking at a watch. “Oh, would you look at the time! We do need to go, we’re on a quest for Joel, so we’ve gotta move on! It’s been lovely speaking to you, bye!”

At the same time, Tango was starting to walk away and Zed was holding the chosen one’s collar to drag him along with them. Scar waved them goodbye enthusiastically, while Cub watched them leave and False resumed her task - as though her sword still wasn’t sharp enough!

Once they were out of earshot, Zed released the chosen one. Not that he struggled too much against being dragged away from the merchants, but it was nice to be able to fix his collar back into its original position. 

“Those crystals could’ve helped, y’know,” the chosen one said.

“From their stock, the crystals are the weakest,” Tango said. He seemed to speak from experience. “Besides, we’re not heading towards evil. We’re going to retrieve a ring, we don’t need the crystals.”

“Plus,” Zed added. “We’ve got the actual goodies.”

The chosen one gasped. “You did?”

From his pocket, Zed pulled a couple of small beads that almost looked like pearls, except they had a weirdly cerulean sheen to them. He looked extremely proud to have them.

“Water breathing pearls,” Zed announced. “Didn’t cost us much, don’t worry about it.” With a free hand, he dug into another pocket to reveal a playing card. It kinda looked similar to Tango’s card, in the sense that this too was briefly flashed in front of the chosen one’s eyes before it disappeared back into the pocket. Except, this time, Zed made a point to make a little bit of a flourish with it and gave the chosen one and Tango a wink. One that Tango seemed to understand the meaning of, it seems.

“Hey, er…” Tango began as Zed put the pearls back in his pocket. He paused for a moment, frowned, then looked at the chosen one. It was a weird sensation, to see a man who hadn’t been really serious this entire time look at you with a weirdly intense look. “What did you talk about with Scar?”

“Why do you ask?” the chosen one wished to know.

“I have a feeling that I don’t like,” Tango said, folding his arms. “What did you talk about?”

Zed glanced at Tango weirdly, but quickly backed him up. When the chosen one first arrived here, he hadn’t thought he would be in a situation where those he would consider friends would turn against him - or literally question him! - about something as banal as talking to a wizard fellow. 

“Just some gossip,” the chosen one said. “Apparently, a unicorn has been harassing a guardian of some lake, or something.” Was that what they wanted to know? That couldn’t be it, right?

“Oh, we know. That’s just Keralis being Keralis,” Zed said out loud. “Harass is a really heavy word to use here. Keralis would be more of a nuisance.”

Not that the chosen one would know about that - he didn’t quite know these people and from what Scar had said, the chosen one wasn't looking forward to meeting either of them. 

“I was talking about something else,” Tango said.

“The crystals?”

“No, it’s…” Tango sighed and shook his head. “Okay, you're not getting what I’m putting down. Tell me your name.”

“What?” That was a weirdly direct way of asking for something that Tango should already know about. It was enough for the chosen one to wonder whether everything was okay with his new friend. He glanced at Zed, hoping for some support from that corner, but Zed's eyes had widened. He seemed to be siding with Tango in this case. Lovely.

“Just try it,” Tango said in a gentler tone. “Say your name out loud. You’ll see.”

If that was all he had to do, easy!

The chosen one opened his mouth, expecting his name to just roll out like it always had. Unfortunately, not a sound came out of his mouth and his mouth itself didn’t even form the necessary letters. 

A frown appeared on the chosen one’s face. That was odd.

He stretched his neck, cracked some finger knuckles, and stood ready to try again. Again, he opened his mouth, ready to say his name. Nothing.

The chosen one couldn’t really explain what was happening. He knew his name - obviously he knew his name - but whenever he thought about it, he was drawing a blank. He was a Leman, sure, but his first name seemed to have been surgically erased from his mind. The muscle memory that came with saying his name seemed to have been similarly surgically removed.

No. He knew his name. The chosen one was sure about it. He just… yeah, he needed to be nonchalant about it. That would help!

“So, my name is–” Once again, it stopped. That didn’t help.

“Okay, it starts with a–” His mind couldn’t even conjure that.

All the while, Tango watched with mild curiosity and extreme concern. 

“What’s going on?!” The chosen one exclaimed, turning to his new friends for guidance and comfort.

“You just gave Scar your name, didn’t you?” Tango said.

“He asked if he could have it,” the chosen one tried to defend himself. “I didn’t think–”

“You should never do that!” Tango yelled back at him. His hair flared up a little, but he regained his composure pretty easily after a couple of deep breaths. “It’s fine. You’re fine. Scar has it, so he’ll likely just keep it. He’s not going to use it for evil. But still!”

“How was I supposed to know!?” the chosen one asked. Nobody had warned him about name-stealing traveling wizard merchants.

“Let’s keep going,” Zed then said, placing a hand on their backs. “The shore’s still a while that way.”

In other words: they could have this conversation on the road and not just while they were just out of earshot from the merchants. So they continued, while the chosen one remained flabbergasted that he lost his name.

Chapter Text

‘A while’, it turned out, was more like a day or two worth of travel.

More than enough time for the chosen one to think. Or, rather, for Mr. Leman to think. He’d been fortunate enough not to mention his last name. He could still use that one, though it didn’t quite roll off the tongue as his actual first name, whatever that had been. It was better than going by ‘chosen one’, though, and a lot less pretentious. It was getting really old really fast, and at least Tango seemed to be glad to have something else to call him than ‘chosen one’.

Two days to get used to being called Mr. Leman. It didn’t quite sit right with him. It almost sounded like he was a teacher - which he very much was not. He would give it a good try, of course, but it wouldn’t be his passion. Someone else would be better at the job than he could ever be at his best.

His hand often found the necklace. Randomly, too, because he kept forgetting it was there. So either he’d already gotten used to it, or it was just so comfortable there that it was too easy to forget that he was actually wearing it. Late last night, it had started to hum, as if just under its breath. This hum was monotone, but it was present and it drove Mr. Leman insane until he realized it was the necklace. After that, he didn’t seem to mind as much. That necklace was made specifically to keep out all the magic, after all. Besides, if memories could literally attack him, why shouldn’t a magic-absorbing necklace hum?

How much magic had it already absorbed? Mr. Leman couldn’t be sure. The hum, he presumed, was a sign that it was working. He’d asked Tango, who confirmed that was how it was supposed to work. He’d asked Zedaph, who was happy to hear it was humming again and wondered out loud whether or not it would start to sing. Mr. Leman wasn’t sure what that would entail, but it was a little too creepy to consider what that would even sound like.

His back itched a little. Then again, his feet were also hurting from the travels on foot, so it might just be a side effect of prolonged travel that he wasn’t used to.

Mr. Leman almost sighed in relief when the salty smell of the ocean hit his nose. It was good to know they were close to their goal. All this travel had been fun and all, but he was really hoping to get some action. To be fair, he just really wanted to use those water-breathing pearls and see how those worked, because they’ve fascinated him since Zedaph had acquired them from the merchants.

But the lands started to be more flat and the clusters of trees smaller. At long last, the shore came into view.

Mr. Leman had initially expected a beach. Even after hearing the story of Joel and the ocean, he had been picturing the shoreline with a bit of a beach. He didn’t expect the road they were traveling to literally disappear within the water, what looked like flooding that stretched up to the horizon, with little grasses at the very edge of the water.

They were not alone. Sitting on a tree stump was a man, looking quite human. The red shirt stood out against the water. A bushy dirty blond beard hid most of his face while a hat rested on his head. He sat there relaxed, throwing out a fishing line into the shallow water.

Mr. Leman could have sworn he had seen this person before, though he couldn’t quite place it and couldn’t quite see his face from this angle.

He leaned in closer to Tango. “Do you know this person, too?”

From precedent, it seemed Tango (and Zedaph, too) just happened to know people they had come across. True, it had just been the fey merchants that took Mr. Leman’s first name, but it did set a precedent that he would want to mold into a pattern.

Tango, however, didn’t immediately answer. He glanced nervously at Zedaph, who seemed to be a bit more curious than nervous about the fisherman’s presence.

“Oh, we do,” Zedaph responded casually. Though Mr. Leman caught an undercurrent of awkwardness in it. “That’s, er… that’s a peculiar person right there.”

“Don’t worry too much about him,” Tango added. “He’s weird, alright? Don’t think too much of it.”

That was all either of Mr. Leman’s new friends wanted to say about that. He wondered what could make the flaming hair guy and 77% sheep person say that a normal looking fisherman was weird. Even without interacting with him, Mr. Leman thought the fisherman looked familiar to him, which could have something to do with it. Interacting with him would likely help figure out this fisherman’s deal.

The ocean was right there, and they just needed to follow the road to reach the Church of Cod. So they would need to pass the fisherman, because the ocean couldn’t be trusted to keep them on the right track to this church.

“Don’t say anything,” Tango deadpanned before they continued their journey.

“I wasn’t gonna!” Mr. Leman said indignantly, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to control himself if the fisherman said something that elicited a reaction.

“You shouldn’t initiate the conversation, though,” Tango said. “I don’t want you to lose the name you have left because you said something wrong.”

“On the flip side, it would be funny,” Zedaph added. “Only for a little while, though. Now, chosen one, shall we?”

Zedaph had not stopped calling Mr. Leman ‘the chosen one’. Tango rolled his eyes and followed the road. Mr. Leman didn’t mind it every once in a while, even if it could be pretentious. Zedaph didn’t do it often, so it was fine. Besides, they shouldn’t focus on what to call Mr. Leman right now when the fisherman was right there as another mystery person on their way.

“So…” Tango said as they approached the fisherman. “Picked up a new hobby, huh?”

The fisherman barely acknowledged their presence, his gaze on the bobber of his fishing rod. The water was so shallow that the hook scraped across the dirt. He wasn’t going to be able to catch anything here.

“It’s good to be here,” the man said. “It’s calming.”

“What brings you to these parts this time, Grian?” Zed said ina jovial tone. Somehow, Mr. Leman thought it sounded more forced than usual. “The existential dread that accompanies the endless horizon, or a fight against the tide?”

“Yes.”

The fisherman - Grian - turned his head to look at the group. Mr. Leman’s jaw dropped instantly.

“Dude, your eyes!”

Or rather, the lack thereof. Grian had no eyes. Or, no, he had eyes, but they were pitch black. Did he even blink? He wasn’t sure, but just staring into the void almost made him nauseous. That was not something he expected. Just looking at that face nearly induced vertigo, so Mr. Leman looked away. It almost reminded him of Coraline, except those people had buttons for eyes whereas Grian’s were just black for no good reason. The general vibes unsettled him.

He started to realize why people thought Grian was weird.

“What about them?” Grian said nonchalantly.

Mr. Leman could almost feel the silence wrap around them as it tried to swallow them. Knowing what memories could do in this place, he suddenly feared that this possibility could become true.

“I’m assuming you already know why we’re here right?” Tango said, trying to pull the conversation back on track and away from the awkward topic of Grian’s eyes.

The bobber reacted as though it had caught something. Grian pulled the line back to him. A book sat comfortably on the hook. As Grian took it off the hook, the book appeared to be completely fine, as though it hadn’t just been fished up from shallow water in a place where it should’ve been impossible to even catch a guppie. Engrossed by his catch, Grian opened the book and stared at a random page. He said nothing, but took a satchel on the ground next to him and put the book inside of there. It didn’t bulk up as though a book had just been put inside. Mr. Leman wondered whether the same magic that had been placed on the backpack was also placed on that satchel.

Grian still did not answer the question. Instead, he turned to Zedaph and gave him a respectful nod. Then, he turned his head to Mr. Leman. A shiver ran down Mr. Leman’s spine. Grian seemed to look through him piercing his soul in a way that few have been able to do. That gaze, emotionless as it was, still seemed to carry hints of concern and grief. For a second, Mr. Leman could feel himself split into a million versions, but he pulled himself out of his thoughts when Grian slightly tilted his head.

“You… you’re not from this world.”

“How do people keep noticing?” Mr. Leman said before he could think about it.  Grian’s statement wasn’t a question, merely an observation. As though he’d pulled the knowledge right out of Mr. Leman. In hindsight, that’s what it felt like, anyway.

“You look completely human. It’s going to take a while before people stop assuming that you are one.” Grian shook his head. “Not before you get your name back. That was unfortunate, but to be expected.”

Mr. Leman glanced at Tango or Zedaph. Neither of them had addressed him as either Mr. Leman or the chosen one, and neither of them had mentioned this. Right? No, they couldn’t have, Mr. Leman was there the entire time and not once had it been mentioned. It seemed that Grian had a knack for knowing things he shouldn’t and that terrified Mr. Leman on a personal level.

“I know you’ll be in trouble out there,” Grian said as he threw the line back into the ocean. The bobber landed in the exact same place it had been floating before. “It’s not easy being the chosen one, especially the ocean. I don’t know why Joel believed this was an easy journey. Chores are not quests, yet he keeps giving them. To go in the ocean at all is to invite trouble. It is not for the faint of heart. The water changes people.”

Mr. Leman blinked a couple of times. More cryptic messages he could do nothing with.

“... Okay.”

“Is there any way we can mitigate this trouble?” Tango then asked. “If you say there’s going to be some…”

“Call me when you have the ring and need help,” Grian said. “I can send you away from a potentially bad situation.”

“What, are you gonna fish us up?”

A few seconds later, Mr. Leman realized this joke would not have landed, no matter what had been said. It did not even elicit any chuckles from any of the people in his company. Once again that silence snaked through the air, watching hungrily.

“You don’t want me to do that,” Grian said in a flat voice.

“Noted,” Mr. Leman said. Before either Tango or Zedaph could interrupt, he continued to speak. “So, what do we say, then? How do we call you?”

“Just say my name. I’ll hear it.”

Another shiver ran down Mr. Leman’s spine, and the same happened to his new friends. Though Grian hadn’t said his name out loud, it seemed to now be etched inside their minds. The name was on his tongue, but Mr. Leman didn’t dare say it for fear that saying it now would nullify whatever magical effect Grian had just placed upon it.

“Thank you,” Tango said. “We can use all the help.”

“Naturally, if you want to take a dive into the ocean,” Grian said in response. He turned to Zedaph. “Keep an eye on him. We wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to this one, too, now, would we?”

Zedaph was already nodding. “Oh, I’ve been keeping a very close eye. Nothing’s happening to him on my watch.”

“I’m feeling flattered,” Mr. Leman said, “but I can handle myself. I can’t help but feel you know something that we don’t. What is it?”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. It nearly made Mr. Leman dizzy, but it was released when Grian spoke again.

“The ring is sought after by another. If you don’t go soon, she will beat you there.”

“What?” Tango exclaimed.

“I didn’t know we had competition,” Mr. Leman said. From the way Joel had phrased his quest, it sounded like it was just lying about, forgotten in a church. He should have realized that the ring of a god-king might be powerful in itself and that many others may be looking for it.

They had to take it before this woman Grian was referring to reached it.

“Let’s go, then,” Zedaph said. “No time for dilly-dallying.” He passed the water breathing pearls around. Mr. Leman took one, waiting to see what would happen or how to activate it. Luckily, Tango and Zed knew what they were doing. It needed to be crushed between his fingers to activate it and though he couldn’t see anything change about it, something must’ve happened. It must’ve worked, because Tango and Zed already walked into the ocean.

Mr. Leman took one look at Grian and the bobber in the water.

“Goodbye, Mr. fisherman.”

“Take care, Mr. Leman.”

Mr. Leman took his first steps into the shallow ocean waters, ready to snatch that ring before this woman could.

Chapter Text

The journey into the ocean wasn’t what Mr. Leman had expected. Mostly because he’d thought he’d dive right in, swimming behind Tango and Zedaph, into the depths where the fish were larger than himself and as friendly as everything else in this world so far, only to find those decrepit ruins at the bottom of the ocean.

But no. First they had to trudge through knee-high water at most, which wasn’t particularly fun or quick. It wasn’t like going into the ocean at all - no steep decline that made you wonder how deep you were able to go without feeling the sand between your toes, no strong tides that either seemed to push you away or reel you in. It seemed stagnant where they walked and a certain unease fell over him as he traveled, as though the waters themselves wanted to make clear that he and his traveling companions weren’t welcome here.

Did the ocean know why they were coming?

Maybe. Maybe not. It was difficult to tell, especially because Mr. Leman did not know how to communicate properly with the ocean. Hopefully sending it good vibes was enough to convince if they didn’t want to overstep their boundaries or do something they would regret. After all, anything they did, they would be at the mercy of the waves, anyway.

Mr. Leman turned to look at his traveling companions. They took walking through the water in as much stride as he did - as in, they kept their complaints to themselves. At least Zedaph seemed to enjoy himself, walking around with a calm smile as though he was just strolling through downtown. If downtown was flooded, that is.

When Mr. Leman’s gaze fell on Tango again, he frowned, and something that had been silently bothering him finally clicked.

“Wait a second!” he said, stopping in his tracks. It caught Tango and Zed’s attention and they immediately grew worried.

“Is something wrong?” Zed asked.

Mr. Leman wasn’t looking at Zedaph, though. His gaze was firmly on Tango and the flames that acted as his hair. “How are you gonna go into the ocean?”

Now Tango frowned. He shared a confused look with Zed before looking at Mr. Leman again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... you’re made of fire,” Mr. Leman said, gesticulating wildly. “You’ve got fire magic. How is that gonna work when we need to go under the sea?”

Again, Zed and Tango looked at one another. Zed couldn’t suppress a slight giggle while Tango seemed… well, not annoyed, but he likely hadn’t seen that comment coming. Which he should have, obviously - fire and water famously don’t mesh well.

“One, I don’t have fire magic,” Tango said. “Second, I’m gonna–”

“You don’t have fire magic?” Mr. Leman wondered. His gaze was drawn to the flames atop Tango’s head. What the heck was that, then? That was definitely fire, it couldn’t be anything else.

“I don’t!” Tango exclaimed. For a second, his flames flared up in a paler yellow. “No, of course I don’t have fire magic. What gave you that idea?”

“It might be those flowing locks of fire dancing atop your head,” Zed helpfully said. Tango didn’t seem to think that comment was all that helpful.

“You told me when we first met, dude!” Mr. Leman said. “That’s your magic!”

Didn’t Tango say that? It had been a week or so since they first talked in the ravager stables, but Mr. Leman could have sworn that Tango had said that. If not that, then something similar.

“No, it’s not!” Tango said. “That’s just how I look. I can’t control these flames.” He gestured wildly at his head and the wild flames on top of it. “I think I said the way I look is the result of magic, but everything is magic here! This - all of this - is passive, it isn’t something that I can just turn on and off at will.”

“Would be cool if you could,” Zed noted.

Tango grumbled something under his breath in response. Neither Mr. Leman nor Zedaph could understand what he was grumbling about. 

“Well… do you have any magic you can control?” Mr. Leman asked, directing the magic to both his friends.

He had been under the assumption that his companions were able to do magic. He’d seen Joel do magic - he literally opened a portal to pull Mr. Leman into this world - and Watcher Crann had done away with Mr. Leman’s sleeves. So, yeah, of course he would assume that Tango can do fire magic based solely on the way he looked. Even though Zedaph was more of an enigma, he was convinced that the part-sheep man was capable of magic, too.

Tango took a deep sigh and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a deck of cards, and from that deck pulled a card. He showed this card’s face to Mr. Leman. At the top, it read ‘SNEAK’ in bold letters and it depicted a person crouching as it tried to pass something in the distance. 

Mr. Leman wasn’t sure if he stared too long, or if the silhouetted person in the picture actually moved extremely slowly.

“I’ve got some cards I can use,” Tango said. “Before you ask: yes, they’re waterproof.”

Tango tucked the card back into the deck, and the deck back into his pocket. Mr. Leman nodded, trying to figure out how those cards could be used. Might be a conversation for the road, since he still had to evaluate Zedaph’s magic.

Zedaph was just standing and watching. Once the attention turned to him, he gave Mr. Leman a wide grin and a half-bow. “What do you think, oh, chosen one?”

Tango almost physically cringed at the epithet Zed used.

“You’re very good with potions,” Mr. Leman said.

“Correct!” Zedaph exclaimed as he clasped his hands together. “Given enough time, I can make you any brew you can think of, but I’d need the time to prepare. I am also in a highly esteemed apprenticeship, but that one doesn’t involve brewing potions.”

“Can you brew me a beer once we’re done here?” Mr. Leman asked, barely registering any information after Zed disclosed he could brew anything.

“Beer’s always been a little tricky with my skills,” Zed admitted. “But I can give it a try.”

“We can have this conversation on the road,” Tango said, trying to wrangle Mr. Leman and Zedaph into continuing this journey. “Let’s keep moving. I don’t like the currents here.”

The three continued walking. They seemed to be going a little more slowly than before, though the terrain hadn’t yet dipped. It almost felt like the water was heavier and pushed against their legs, trying to keep them from reaching their destination. The force was not enough to completely stop them - it merely hindered them. Even so, it was exhausting to fight against a current when you are thigh-deep into water and trying to move around.

It didn’t take long before the terrain sloped down and the travelers had a chance to swim properly. Mr. Leman instinctively took a deep breath before he disappeared beneath the water, unsure how the water-breathing pearls would work. As Tango and Zed swam down, bubbles appeared around their heads, allowing them to breathe air while underwater. Sure enough, Mr. Leman had one around his head, too. Seeing it up close, it wasn’t so much a bubble as it was a pocket of air that perpetually pushed the water out of the way, giving Mr. Leman’s head some space to remain dry and to always have a ready supply of air. 

He couldn’t resist the urge to poke this pocket of air like it was a bubble. The finger passed through the barrier where the air repelled the water and nothing happened.

The ground was no longer what it used to be. Hills had been flattened, the grasses torn away and replaced with sea life and the roads… well, there were no more roads. They just had to trust their sense of direction and fortunately, Tango knew where they were going. Every now and then, a remnant of previous surface life - a waterlogged house, a weathered sign post - presented itself, which Tango used to orient himself.

Sometimes, Mr. Leman thought he spotted a suit of armor following them from a distance. Which was ridiculous. What would a full suit of plate armor be doing underwater?

“There!” Tango eventually said. “The church!”

He pointed ahead of him and through the murkier waters, they saw the outline of a building. Only the foundations and some walls hadn’t been toppled, and the general shape had remained as well.

Mr. Leman nodded. “That’s indeed a church.” It had the same general outline as the ones he was familiar with from back home.

“As we’ve arrived…” Zedaph swam over to Mr. Leman and motioned for him to turn around. Mr. Leman did as he was told. Zedaph reached into the backpack, his arm nearly fully disappearing into it. Eventually, he made a triumphant noise and pulled the thing he was looking for from it.

“Here you go,” Zed said, presenting a sword to Mr. Leman. “Wouldn’t want you to be defenseless, now.”

“Really?” Mr. Leman’s eyes lit up. He had never held a sword before. The little kid inside him could not hide his enthusiasm when he took the sword from Zed and - at a safe distance - gave it a couple of swings. 

“Are you sure that’s the right call in the water?” Tango asked. “Look at him! It’s going so slow.”

The water did make it difficult for Mr. Leman to make quick, powerful swings. 

“It’s going just fine,” Mr. Leman said, not wanting them to take the sword away from him. “I can do it.”

“Have you had formal training?” Tango asked. “I don’t know what they teach you in… wherever you’re from. Do they teach you underwater combat? With swords?”

“I haven’t had underwater training,” Mr. Leman said, in a moment he didn’t know what to say. He was just happy was able to swim with his clothes on and a backpack. The backpack didn’t weigh a lot, so that was good, too, but he figured he would be caught on his lie if he said he had been trained underwater. Was it too much to ask to keep this awesome-looking sword?

“Get him the dagger,” Tango said almost immediately.

Zed nodded. “On it.”

“C’mon!” Mr. Leman said. “Can’t I keep the sword?”

“Let’s try that on land,” Tango said as he took the sword from Mr. Leman. He didn’t need to wait too long before Zed handed him a finely-crafted dagger. He glanced from the dagger to the sword, just before Tango handed it back to Zed so that he could put it back in the backpack.

“I want the sword.”

“On land,” Tango said firmly. “A dagger might be better anyway. In case we run into any trouble, it might give you a better chance to defend yourself.”

“Oh, smart thinking,” Zed said. “I’m gonna get a dagger for myself, now.”

That shut Mr. Leman up. Not necessarily because he didn’t have anything else to add to the conversation, but because a realization hit him like a truck. Staring at the dagger, waiting for Zed to take one from the backpack for himself, the thoughts crept into his mind.

In case we run into any trouble.

It hadn’t occurred to Mr. Leman before they would be running into trouble. Yes, it sounds stupid, especially considering he was on board with the whole ‘defeat evil’ thing. It sounded just vague enough that he didn’t think about the possibility of actually having to fight, even though that kind of is the trope associated with one such prophecy. To fight, to kill, to save the people he had been summoned to save.

Would this dagger - or the sword - stain red at the end of his journey? Would he be competent enough to give the people what they saw in him? What good is a chosen one who couldn’t even defend himself? What good is a chosen one who dies before their purpose has been fulfilled?

Couldn’t think about that. He had friends who did know what they were doing. Tango has his weird card tricks and can wrangle strange hostile animals, and Zedaph is a brilliant alchemist who may or may not brew good beer. He wouldn’t have to do this alone. Perhaps, in a moment of downtime, he could ask to be taught a bit. At the very least to know how to defend himself until he was trained enough to attack as well.

Then, what? What would that make him?

The thought was left to run through his mind as they approached the church. Their journey had been pretty uneventful so far - except for the name thing - so they shouldn’t expect too much trouble. Unless the ocean would throw them a curveball. Even then, the three had reached the church. If the ocean so desperately wanted to keep them away, it could’ve done a lot worse.

“Heads up,” Zed said. “We’ve got company.”

Swimming in above the entry archway, their gazes were drawn to the cracked and weathered stonework. Fine details washed away, and yet Mr. Leman could almost see it in its old glory. He could see the columns rise on either side of him, a young man wandering through the middle, babbling incoherently. His face turned from the colorful stained glass windows to the altar, upon which reality bled through and a brilliant ring lay.

Mr. Leman took a deep breath. He recognized the feeling now - no way he’d let a living memory sneak up on him again. Instead, he directed his attention to the ring on the altar - it was right there - and the woman who stood between them and the ring.

‘Stood’, as a matter of speaking. Instead, this human-looking woman floated. Her intense gaze and piercing eyes were on the three men. Her long braided red hair was at the mercy of the water and her pale, blue-ish skin matched the darker blues of her torn clothes. Her wings - she had wings, useless beneath the waves - were destroyed, plucked in places, and weathered in others. In her hand, she held a wicked trident.

The sight sent a shiver down Mr. Leman’s spine. All of those features just screamed “zombie”, and he didn’t like zombies. He glanced at his companions, hoping for some strength and courage. Instead, Tango seemed a little uneasy, with one hand in his pocket. Zed had dropped any sense of silly and just stared at the woman in such a weird way that Mr. Leman could not guess what was crossing his mind. The seriousness of his friend was enough to make him question who they were facing.

Though, there was one thing that Mr. Leman knew for sure.

... Okay, there were two things.

One, this woman could be dangerous and inspired anxiety within his friends. Two, she stood between them and the ring. Hopefully, Mr. Leman would not need that dagger.

“Hi!” Mr. Leman said as he approached the woman. Her gaze snapped to him, her head barely moved.

“Who are you?” her voice seemed unhindered by the ocean. “What brings you here?”

“Easy, we don’t want to do anything, m’kay?” Mr. Leman said. “What’s your name?”

The woman shook her head as she grasped the trident with her other hand as well. “I’m not falling for that.”

“What?” Mr. Leman frowned. It only took him three seconds to realize what was implied. “Oh, I don’t want your name. I don’t want to take it, honestly! I just wanted to know what to call you.”

“Gem,” she answered curtly. Her attention was fully on Mr. Leman. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, we’re–”

“What brings you here?” She interrupted him, enunciating each word. Her eyes started to glow and if Mr. Leman didn’t know any better, he’d think they were heating up to shoot laser beams at him.

“Listen, Gem,” Mr. Leman said. “We don’t want any trouble. We don’t want to fight, believe me. All we’re here for is that ring over there.”

She glanced from Mr. Leman to his friends and back to him. With renewed curiosity, she looked over all of them. “So you’re the ones looking for the ring.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Leman nodded. “We were given a quest, you see. We have to retrieve the ring.”

She gave a short laugh. “You won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because the ocean doesn’t want to give it back.” She moved the trident in such a position that it would be easier to stab Mr. Leman. “That’s why I came here. You won’t return the ring to the lousy ex-husband.”

Behind him, Zedaph conspicuously leaned closer and stage-whispered at him, in such a way that Gem could also still hear it. Defeating the point of even attempting a whisper.

“Chosen one, I don’t think this is working.”

Gem’s eyes widened in shock. Her mouth was agape for a few seconds, but she recovered rather quickly after that, her full attention on Mr. Leman.

“Chosen one?!”

Somehow, she sounded offended.

Tango physically pulled Zedaph back. “Did you really think that was the smartest move?”

Zed shrugged. “I dunno, it was worth a shot?”

“What was?” Mr. Leman asked. As he was turning his head to look at his friends, he caught how Gem moved.

Mr. Leman barely dodged out of the way of the trident.

“What the heck?”

“You’re going to die,” Gem snarled at him and charged. 

Mr. Leman tried to swim away from her as quickly as possible. At the same time, Tango drew a card and threw it at Gem, which would have looked a thousand times cooler if this happened not within the water. Gem’s muscles locked up and she started to float in place, unable to move too much, struggling against the temporary restraints. Zedaph closed the gap between himself and Gem and just about managed to reach her before the card’s power ran out and she regained some of her ability to move.

Zedaph grabbed her trident and locked her into a strange hug from behind, in an attempt to keep her in place. Mr. Leman, seeing his opening, took his chance and swam in the direction of the altar.

“Don’t you think that was a little overreaction?” Zedaph asked. “He hasn’t even done anything yet.”

Gem didn’t respond. Instead, she forced her trident to point at Mr. Leman - even with Zed still holding onto it - and she released a scream that seemed to come from her very core. The trident started to shine with brilliant sunlight and a concentrated ray of radiant energy shot from the trident straight at Mr. Leman.

It grazed his arm and a panicked yelp escaped his lips.

Don’t look back, Mr. Leman told himself, just swim as fast as you can. Which he was doing, but the ocean itself seemed to slow him down. He was still making progress, just more slowly than he’d wished. Stupid currents, stupid ocean trying to keep him from what he was supposed to be getting.

She tried to shoot a beam of concentrated sunlight at him again. However, Zed holding onto the trident and trying to bend it away from Mr. Leman - as well as Tango throwing another card that deflected the beam into a different direction - helped protect the chosen one.

“Gem, you don’t want to do this,” Zedaph said in a fruitless attempt to talk her down. “Look, I know you’re–”

“Oh, I do want to do this,” Gem said. She almost sounded gleeful. “So let me.”

“Could you perhaps reconsider? The future of this world kind of depends on his survival.”

“Really?” Once again, she sounded offended. “It hinges on him? On him ?”

Mr. Leman tried very much not to let those words get to him. Because, for one, fair. But, for two, it really wouldn’t be a good idea if he started to listen to basically a corpse when she insinuated he wasn’t good enough. Yes, she was a scary corpse who could definitely kill him if she wanted to and if Tango and Zed weren’t holding her back, but Mr. Leman still shouldn’t listen to her.

Didn’t stop the words from reaching his ears, though.

Just a little further…

In that time, two more beams of light almost pierced through him. Mr. Leman didn’t want to look at the struggle going on behind him, where Zed and Tango tried to keep Gem at bay. Hopefully they could keep it up until Mr. Leman had reached the altar. No matter how much the currents tried, Mr. Leman approached slowly but surely.

He outstretched his hand to the altar, where the ring sat.

He breathed in relief when his skin made contact with the cold ring. It was a nice, beautiful yet simple golden ring. He turned, clutching the ring in a closed hand.

“I’ve got it!” he enthusiastically exclaimed. “I’ve got it!”

Zedaph had just been thrown off of Gem, a card from Tango deflected by the trident. Mr. Leman’s cries of victory drew their attention and Gem’s eyes widened.

“Put that back!” she shouted. “I will pry that ring from your cold, dead hands!”

She surged forward with a speed that Mr. Leman had not expected, unimpeded by the currents that had kept Mr. Leman away from the ring. Her speed did not allow for Zed or Tango to stop her before she left their reach.

“Grian!” Mr. Leman called out. “Any second now!”

Something changed, almost seemed to bubble up within him. When he placed his hand on his stomach, it almost felt like his clothes didn’t feel like wet fabric, as he would have expected. When he glanced down, he nearly panicked. His whole body was shifting, changing, and seemed to turn into bubbles. All the while, this feeling light-headedness spread throughout his head and body, and he intrinsically knew that this had to be Grian’s influence. The blue gemstone on the necklace glowed softly, though it couldn’t stop all of the magic focused on Mr. Leman.

From the looks of it, the same seemed to be happening to Tango and Zed. They seemed to be weirded out, but they were not in a panic. They seemed to accept the process and, eventually, the result. They would be leaving here soon.

“No!” Gem shouted when she realized what was going on.

Mr. Leman took one more breath and allowed himself to be whisked away.

Chapter Text

When you put your trust in a strange fisherman with weird vibes that even your friends seem to think is weird, you shouldn’t expect a neat result that ties up all loose ends nicely. The help was extremely nice and selfless, and - to Grian’s credit - it did whisk them away from danger. They were no longer under threat of that drowned zombie woman who seemed intent on killing Mr. Leman for no apparent reason. So, that was good. The ring was safely in their hands and the group was safely out of the water.

Instead, they were at the freaking north pole.

Probably not the north pole. There were some magic crystal thingies in the distance that signposted that Mr. Leman wasn’t just teleported to the arctic of his own world. No, they had arrived in a very cold place in this fantasy world that Mr. Leman did not know. He had no idea how to get back to the Lore Kingdom from here. So much for trusting the fisherman!

And it’s cold! Freezing, even. He tossed his backpack off of him to reach for a towel. Though his head was dry and the backpack of holding appeared to be water-repellant, his clothes were not and now he was soaking wet in the middle of a tundra. He didn’t want to wait to find out what would happen if he just left the drops of water freeze on his skin - likely, it won’t be good.

Even before he could grab a towel, his bare arms were trembling from the cold. It didn’t stop once he’d wiped off the water.

“Mr. Leman!” A voice called out his last name. “Mr. Leman!”

Mr. Leman looked over where Tango and Zedaph were standing. They, too, had finished drying themselves off and were now rushing to where Mr. Leman was standing. Based on the footprints they left behind in the thin layer of snow that covered the ground, they had been a similar distance away from him as they had been while they were still submerged.

“Do you have it?” Tango asked him. “Do you have the ring?”

For a second, Mr. Leman did nothing. Then, he fished the ring out of his pocket.

“Got it right here!” he exclaimed proudly. He’d put it in his pocket while he grabbed his towel. He held it out proudly, but soon wanted to put it back in his pocket for safety. Except, that might not be the safest place to put it. Also, the safety of the ring was rather secondary to the cold that seemed to encompass his consciousness and thoughts.

“Could you put it in the backpack?” he asked, handing the ring to Tango. “Don’t want it to accidentally drop outta my pocket. Or displace it.”

Tango took the ring as he was requested and safely stashed it away in the backpack.

As soon as the ring no longer was in his hands, a weight had been taken off of Mr. Leman’s shoulders. Or rather, it freed up all the mental energy he had allocated to keeping it safe - which was instantly redirected to the perception of cold and how it affected him and his arms.

“Gosh, it’s freezing here!” He exclaimed.

Tango nodded as he put the ring away. “It does tend to freeze here.”

Zedaph immediately took off his coat - made out of rough white wool of an undefined source. Mr. Leman had never questioned whether a part-sheep person would need a coat, or other clothes, but he wasn’t in the right mindset to question that now, either.

“You can have my coat,” Zed said, holding out the coat for Mr. Leman to take.

Mr. Leman grabbed it before Zedaph could finish his sentence. He was just about to put it on when he took a more critical look at his friends. It seemed like Zed would be fine, with his own wool shielding him from the cold, but Tango had not had a change in wardrobe either since they left, always wearing these lightweight clothes. Yeah, they worked well in Joel’s kingdom, but they wouldn’t protect him from the cold here. Mr. Leman’s own clothes barely protected him, and they were wet and also had no sleeves. So why did it look like Tango’s clothes were dry compared to Mr. Leman’s?

“Don’t you need a coat?” Mr. Leman asked him. Tango stood up and folded his arms, just staring at Mr. Leman. Who eventually caught the flame dancing on Tango’s head and connected the dots. “You know what, never mind. That was a stupid question.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Tango said. “For all you know, the flames could have been cosmetic. Truth is, I’m rather warm-blooded. I can handle the cold. I don’t like it, but I’m okay.”

“I’ll be fine, too,” Zed added, already rubbing his hands together for added warmth.

Mr. Leman looked at the coat he’d received from his friend and held it out. “I can’t take this.”

“Just wear it.”

“But you need this!”

“Nonsense! You take it,” Zed insisted. “You’re the chosen one. I’d happily relinquish my coat to you.”

Now with the express permission of Zedaph - again - Mr. Leman put the coat on. Whatever Zed had done, it had expelled all the water and cold from it. It could well protect him against the freezing temperatures of this place. He breathed a sigh of relief when the skin of his arms touched the rough wool. Sure, he would need to get used to the feeling after about a week of no sleeves, but this felt nice and warm and cozy.

The sleeves instantly ripped themselves off of the coat and evaporated.

Mr. Leman stared for a moment at his bare arms. For a second, he’d lived in a world where he hadn’t been cursed by a Watcher to never have sleeves. For a second, he thought the sleeves thing only applied to this suit and that he hadn’t needed to worry about other sleeves. Well, at least now he knew how exactly that curse worked.

Mr. Leman shot Zed an apologetic glare. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, really. It was just an old coat, anyway,” Zed already waved Mr. Leman’s concerns away. Mr. Leman found it difficult to tell whether Zed truly was okay with the situation or if he was masterfully masking it. “Perhaps you can drape it over your shoulders and wear it like a cape? In the right position, it can shield your naked arms from the cold.”

Mr. Leman nodded, taking off the coat. “I’ll try that.”

He hoped that would work, or else this man’s sleeves had just disintegrated for nothing. That would be bad.

“Don’t you have some potions for this kind of thing?” Tango asked. “You’ve got concoctions for just about everything…”

“Normally, I would, but I wasn’t exactly prepared for this.” Zed motioned to the snowy landscape around him. “Yes, I could easily brew some, but we’d have to stay here for a while and, based on how far the mountains are, we might be closer to the border than we think.”

Mr. Leman followed Zed’s gaze - of course he looked at the mountains as he mentioned them. Indeed in the distance, Mr. Leman spotted some ominous-looking peaks that he did not want to go to or mess with. At all. Especially not in these conditions.

“So we’ll just walk until we reach the border?” Mr. Leman asked. Hopefully, it meant reaching a warmer biome.

“I could be quicker than me brewing a couple of potions for us,” Zed admitted.

Tango grabbed the backpack and swung it on his back, taking a glance at the chosen one. “Then we should get going before your arms freeze off.”

With those words, they started their journey. It was just slightly slower than Mr. Leman would’ve liked, the snow just being deep enough to be a hindrance for walking but not so much so that they had to plow through it. Still, it bothered him to a degree that it shouldn’t bother him. Perhaps he was just used to not seeing that much snow. Even if there had been snow at home, it never was that much and never to this extent, with these extreme temperatures.

Snow, he discovered, was nice to look at, but not nice to walk through.

Fortunately, Tango and Zedaph identified a road. How they managed to do that was a mystery to him, but the ground beneath his feet felt like he walked on frozen cobblestone. With his friends nearby, they were able to point him in the right direction to go back to King Joel and return his wedding ring.

He wasn’t really enjoying this journey. It was cold, he had to walk through snow, and the holes in the coat were at just an annoying angle that, no matter how he turned the sleeveless coat, some part of his skin would be exposed to the elements. Which wasn’t fun. It also wasn’t fun when the wind started to pick up and blew in his face. Frigid winds that he wished would have just not blown in his face, because the last thing he needed was to be cold in his face as well. Oh, how he wished for a nice bonfire after they left the ice behind them.

The necklace he was wearing hadn’t hummed in a while. Which was odd. If magic was everywhere and this necklace absorbed incoming magic to help shield him from most of the exposure, shouldn’t it be doing its job?

Mr. Leman looked at his environment, trying to discover whether something stood out. Something did stand out, though he had no idea. Ways away from the road were all sorts of crystals. Some were as tall as decent homes, while others were smaller clusters the size of dwarves. What tied them together was the strange sickly-green core that seemed to glow in the otherwise clear material. It didn’t look like his necklace - it was a nice blue, and all of it was blue - but with his limited knowledge, he dared to think they may be connected. At the very least the crystal may be of the same material as the gemstone used in the necklace.

The wind picked up again and blew cold air into Mr. Leman’s already freezing face. He wasn’t happy.

“Couldn’t Grian have dropped us off at the palace?” Mr. Leman grumbled. “This is ridiculous.”

They had to be joking. There had to be something that Grian could have done to drop them off closer. With the kind of power he had - teleporting three people out of the ocean too far away after one of them only said his name - you’d think he was powerful enough to do more. You’d think he would be able to deliver them right to the doorstep of the palace without much trouble. Why wouldn’t anything happen?

“I haven’t been able to try myself, but I’m sure there’s something that prevents that kind of teleportation in there,” Zedaph said. “Tango? Any insights?”

“There definitely is,” Tango said with the utmost certainty. “He doesn’t want bad guys to just teleport in like that and I’m sure the Watchers value their privacy, too. So the whole palace is protected. Nobody teleports in. I think they’re able to teleport out, but not in.”

“Couldn’t he have dropped us off at the threshold, then?” Mr. Leman wondered. “Anywhere closer than here, wherever ‘here’ is.”

“This is the Ice Kingdom,” Zed helpfully said.

Mr. Leman stopped in his tracks to stare at Zedaph.

“Really?” he said. “That’s the name of this place?”

“I mean, the names pretty much reflect the places here,” Zedaph explained. “We’ve got the Lore Kingdom, which is Joel’s, and then the Ice Kingdom, Undead Republic, all that good stuff. From your reaction, I take it you’re not from the Human Kingdom.”

That was a fair assessment to make.

“It’s all humans,” Mr. Leman said. “There’s no one human kingdom, because there’s many countries out there. Not all of them are kingdoms, either.”

“So what do you name your countries?” Tango asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. “I’ve always wondered about the naming conventions of the human world. How does one name a country in your world?”

“I dunno.” Mr. Leman shrugged. “I guess someone said something random in the past and then it sticks. Personally, I’m from the United States, so… it’s not a good example.”

Mr. Leman realized he probably shouldn’t be weirded out by the place names in Hermiton being descriptive when his own country’s name is basically a set of states that are united and thus also describe what it’s about. The irony did not seem to be lost on Tango or Zed, but neither commented too much on it. 

“Wait!” Zed said, raising his finger as though he had an epiphany - one that promptly escaped him again, as suggested by the frown that followed. “Oh, I almost had it. What did that one guy say again?” He snapped his fingers a few times, as though that would magically bring him the answer. It could have - anything is possible in the world, Mr. Leman supposed - but it didn’t. Because he didn’t follow it up with anything that sounded remotely like an answer.

“Are you from - and Tango, help me out here, where did that one guy say he was from again? The one from the jungle?”

Tango also needed a second to think. “Was it Nashville?”

“Yes!” Zedaph exclaimed, a wide grin on his face as he turned to look at Mr. Leman again. “Are you from Nashville, Tennessee?”

Mr. Leman blinked a few times. “I’m from Arizona.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Zed responded in the same tone and cadence as before, “but I’m going to assume it is a different place than Nashville, Tennessee.”

“It is.”

The conversation continued. It took Mr. Leman a while to realize that the conversation successfully distracted him from the cold. And, of course, when he noticed that was what was going on, it no longer worked as well. The cold lingered on his arms and face, the rough wool scraped his skin and made him itchy. The longer they walked, the closer they allegedly came to the border, the closer they came to a modicum of warmth. The thought was enough to keep Mr. Leman trudging through this cold. That weird itch on his back also acted as a distraction, though it wasn’t a good one.

All the while, their journey was punctuated by these large crystal clusters that regularly appeared, with their green pulsing cores that sometimes seemed to emit a different light. In the twilight of dusk, their colors were strong enough to light up the area near them. It might be a good idea that, if they had to set up camp in the cold, to stay near one of the crystal clusters.

“What about those crystals?” Mr. Lemaneventually asked. “What are they for?”

“They’re no good,” Tango responded immediately. “We shouldn’t be too close to any of them. They suck the heat right outta you.”

“Don’t forget the magic,” Zed added. “They suck that out of you, too.”

“They can do that?” Mr. Leman wondered. His hand touched the now frigid gemstone in his necklace. The properties were different - his necklace absorbed the magic, but dispensed it every now and again - but the similarities that existed were striking. The cores of light in the crystals, was that the magic they had absorbed? Did they ever discharge the magic and heat they caught? 

Seeing these heat-sucking crystals in a frigid landscape made a bit more sense. It did raise another question - how many were there? Many, Mr. Leman would wager, if that was how this kingdom got its name.

“Yeah, they can,” Tango said. “It’s not harmful from a distance and if we’re just passing through, but it is a constant when there’s as many as there are in the Ice Kingdom. The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”

“And that’s why we’re sticking to the path,” Zed said. “We wouldn’t want Tango’s cards to become useless.”

Mr. Leman noticed Tango held his tongue in favor of staying on the road in the fading light. The longer they walked the more it seemed like they would have to camp out in the cold for one evening. Not something Mr. Leman had thought they would have to do nor something he was looking forward to. Again the thoughts about Grian dropping them off in the Lore Kingdom crept up on him and he did not silence them.

They were not the only ones on the road this frigid evening. The figure rode a dark horse with beautiful black fur. This horse also carried some packs and supplies, which included a cage that they later saw a cat sit in. As the person came closer, he sat comfortably atop the horse, the reins loosely in his hands. A dark hood and cloak adorned with unfamiliar crimson symbols hid most of his features.

As Mr. Leman, Tango, and Zed crossed this person, they had a chance to look under the hood. The sight of Scar’s face confused Mr. Leman - this clearly couldn’t be Scar. Though the face was neutral, his face had something sinister to it. When he noticed that those he was passing by were watching, the Scar-look alike gave them a polite nod, but otherwise said nothing. The cage on the packed belongings held a cat with a gray back, white belly and a curious gaze aimed at the group.

Mr. Leman looked behind him for a while. He was certain that cat was staring at him. But she and the lookalike steadily continued without a care in the world.

“Quick question,” Mr. Leman said once they were well out of earshot of the lookalike. “Does Scar have a twin brother or something?”

“No, he does not,” Tango said. “We’d have known if he did. If he had, he would’ve tried to pin his crimes on him.”

“So you don’t know that guy?” He frowned as he pointed behind him.

“We don’t know everyone we come across, chosen one!” Zed said. “There’s a lot of people out there, we can’t possibly know everyone.”

“That was Jellie, though,” Tango added. “At least, I’m sure it is. I’d recognize her anywhere.”

Zed frowned. “Was it?”

As Tango nodded, Zedaph’s eyes widened. “Oh, it was, right? In the cage?”

“Yeah, in the cage. I’m so sure that it was her,” Tango said. He shook his head. “That bastard stole Scar’s familiar.”

“So we get her back for him,” Mr. Leman added.

The silence only lasted for a moment, but during that moment he could feel the judgment from both his traveling companions.

“We are on a schedule and you’re all but freezing to death,” Zedaph said. 

True. And Mr. Leman did truly despise that. However, he could not stand idly by when a cat who clearly did not belong to that person was being kept from her elf. Or whatever Scar was. Mr. Leman still wasn’t quite sure what to call Scar beyond ‘merchant’ and that was just his occupation. 

“We’ve got a caged cat and a face that looks like Scar’s. That’s enough for me to know this guy’s not good at all. And if he stole Jellie, well…” he shrugged. “Maybe we’d get something for her safe return?”

“We’re not keeping Jellie hostage,” Tango said.

Zed folded his arms. “I’m not even sure we could if we wanted to.”

“I wasn’t suggesting keeping her hostage!” Mr. Leman exclaimed. “No! I was thinking we’d keep her around and bring her back to Scar and ask him for a reward. I don’t plan to keep Scar from his cat.”

He could only hope Scar was kind enough to return Mr. Leman’s name to him for returning his cat. After spending a few days without it, he would love to have a first name again. ‘Mr. Leman’ sounded way too official and ‘chosen one’ also did, but in a completely different way. He would love to just be addressed by the first name that he’d so carelessly had given away. That wouldn’t happen again.

But first, before he would let his dreams get the better of him, they’ve got a cat to rescue.

Chapter Text

Neither Tango nor Zed trusted Mr. Leman not to run his mouth or say something that would identify him as not from this world. So, while Zed and Tango were keeping the lookalike of Scar occupied and distracted, Mr. Leman could sneak around and free the cat from her cage. He had argued about transporting the cat in the cage for safety’s sake, but Tango and Zed insisted that the cat – who apparently is called Jellie - be set free and released from her cage as soon as possible.

If that’s what Zed and Tango wanted - and they seemed rather adamant - then Mr. Leman would do it. He just needed to lay low and stay out of sight while his friends approached Not-Scar.

This person had set up camp at the side of the road. A small plume of smoke rose to the sky while the warm firelight illuminated the horse and tent set-up. Not-Scar sat near the fire and warmed his hands, while the horse stood out of the man’s normal line of sight, needing to fully turn his head to be able to see it. The supplies had not been loaded off of the horse, and the cage sat on top of there as well.

They waited for night to fall. Tango and Zed approached, with eyes naturally being drawn to Tango’s flames in the night. Mr. Leman would stay to the side, out of the light, silent until it was his time to act.

Mr. Leman stood crouched. It was surprisingly difficult to tap your foot while crouched - especially if that was a position you wanted to stay in but also wanted to tap your foot because the nerves were getting to you. He really shouldn’t be surprised that it didn’t work, but it did take away a nervous tic that he relied on while his friends approached a potentially dangerous individual.

Tango and Zed knew how to handle themselves. All Mr. Leman had to do was wait and hide in the shadows, hoping his sneaking closer wouldn’t draw any attention to him at all.

Not-Scar had seen Tango and Zed before they spoke. His face was turned away from where Mr. Leman was sneaking closer from, which was exactly what they were hoping for. Tango appeared rather neutral, while Zedaph had plastered his best jovial smile on his face.

“Hi!” he said, waving at the figure sitting at the campfire.

“Hello there.” A shiver ran down Mr. Leman’s spine. He sounded like Scar, too, but the cadence was off. There was no whimsy, only caution wrapped in a layer of confidence. “We’ve crossed paths earlier, didn’t we? Do we know each other?”

“I’m not sure if we do, but you do look familiar to an old friend of ours,” Zedaph said.

“We’re just curious,” Tango added. “Are you familiar with Scar, by any chance? Wizard, traveling merchant?”

“We do have a connection of sorts,” Not-Scar said as he tilted his head. “Please, do tell me who I have the honor of speaking with on this fine icy evening.”

While Tango and Zed introduced themselves, Mr. Leman used that as his cue and snuck closer to the horse. The conversation naturally progressed, but Mr. Leman tuned out at that point. He needed his full focus to ensure he wouldn’t make any noise. After all, if this all failed because he couldn’t remain quiet, it would be rather embarrassing.

Fortunately, Not-Scar seemed to be preoccupied listening to and conversing with Tango and Zed. Any caution he may have previously shown had melted away, sitting there relaxed and holding a confident conversation.

Mr. Leman somehow managed to sneak all the way to the horse. It did not seem to acknowledge Mr. Leman’s presence, and he only had eyes for the cat in the cage. Jellie had been trying to sleep, her eyes opening to meet Mr. Leman’s. A strange intelligence seemed to lie in her eyes, which he had not yet seen before in an animal. They could definitely be smart, but not the extent he just gleaned from her eyes.

“Hi, Jellie,” Mr. Leman said in that tone a pet owner would use towards their pet. “I’m gonna get you out of there, okay?”

He could have sworn she nodded. But cats didn’t nod – not like a human would, anyway – so he ascribed that to his own thoughts running wild. Then again, perhaps animals were generally smarter in this world and he didn’t know it. In any case, he decided to take the opportunity to move slowly with his hands. He found the latch of the cage and slowly, carefully - without any squeaking - opened it up.

He held onto the metal cage door, as though it would creak the second he released it. But it didn’t, and Mr. Leman let go once the cage door was fully swung open. Even Jellie waited and seemed to hold her breath, waiting for an unfavorable response. Yet, Tango and Zedaph were still chatting with Not-Scar, who hadn’t noticed a thing. They were in the clear.

“There you go,” Mr. Leman whispered and he motioned to show the cat that she could leave. She stood up and cautiously climbed out of the cage, on top of the other packed goods. Once she had fully left the cage, she stretched her front legs, her nails digging into the burlap sacks.

“Thank you so much,” a warm, female voice came from the cat. “I haven’t been able to stretch in days.”

Mr. Leman shrieked.

He couldn’t help it. It was a reflex that he couldn’t turn off. As soon as Jellie started to speak, he couldn’t not shriek. Because, let’s be honest, why would he be expecting a talking cat? This was a magical world, so it wouldn’t be out of this world’s ordinary. Mr. Leman still hadn’t fully adjusted to everything just yet, however, and a speaking cat was both a cause for concern and a reason to shriek reflexively. And to nearly fall when stumbling backwards. Even Jellie was startled.

The conversation between Tango, Zed, and Not-Scar fell silent.

“Thank you,” Jellie said. Mist coalesced and swirled around her, obscuring her. When the mist dispersed a second later, the cat was gone. Mr. Leman watched, dumbfounded, as panicked protesting noises from Tango and Zedaph rose.

He had to get out of here.

Mr. Leman turned around, ready to leave. The first footsteps were already taken, panic setting in. He had to leave, now.

“Halt.”

His muscles lock into place, his body stopping for just a moment before he was able to move them again. It broke his momentum, freaked him out to the point of standstill. He looked at his hands - did he really just stop? - and turned his head to the source of the voice.

Not-Scar, the catnapper himself, had his hands in his pockets and watched Mr. Leman with mild curiosity. For one second, he glanced at the now opened and Jellie-less cage, and back to Mr. Leman. He didn’t appear to be annoyed, though now Mr. Leman enjoyed his full attention.

“So there’s the third person of the little entourage I saw. I was wondering where you were. Stay.” He paused for a moment to flash Mr. Leman a creepy smile as he continued to speak in that sickly calm tone. “Do stay. I’ve got some questions for you.”

He wanted to run. He needed to run, but his feet were glued to the ground. He placed his hands on his leg to pull, but nothing happened. His feet and legs refused to move.

Mr. Leman looked up at how calm and collected Not-Scar was. It sent a cold shiver down his spine.

“Mr. Leman!” Tango shouted as he and Zedaph came into view.

Not-Scar nonchalantly raised a hand as though to say ‘stop’. “Stay out of this.”

Zedaph and Tango stopped in their tracks, now just watching silently as Mr. Leman regained his footing and stumbled backwards away from Not-Scar. He spoke with such confidence and authority, not a hint of fear or discomfort. Mr. Leman got the feeling he was exactly in the position he thrived in. With his gaze and attention still on Mr. Leman, he lowered his arm.

“So, Mr. Leman, is it?” he said. “Tell me, who are you?”

“I’m the chosen one.” The words rolled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “King Joel took me from my home.”

Recognition flashed across Not-Scar’s face. That, and a hint of pity and amusement. Mr. Leman frowned. Did the man think this was funny?

“You poor thing,” Not-Scar said in a semi-mocking tone. “Dragged away from your comfortable home and made to fix the messes another one left behind. All to satiate a selfish man’s conscience with the thought he’d done everything he possibly could.”

“Who are you?” Mr. Leman dared to ask.

“Don’t speak,” Not-Scar snapped at him, fire in his eyes. Mr. Leman’s mouth instantly closed and stayed that way, unwilling to part. Not-Scar sighed with annoyance. “I do hate to be interrupted. You should do well to remember that.”

It sounded like a threat. Mr. Leman nodded.

“So…” Not-Scar composed himself and looked Mr. Leman up and down, appraising him. “The god-king found himself another toy to play with. Let me guess, he gave you a quest to prove your worth? Something personal, something that feels like he should’ve done himself but which he turned into a grand quest just for you.” Every word, every syllable suggested that this man was having the time of his life.

Mr. Leman’s mouth may be sealed shut, but his feet no longer were fixed to the ground. He started to back away from Not-Scar, almost tried to place his hands against his head to try to block out the words.

“Stand still,” Not-Scar said. Once again, Mr. Leman couldn’t move at all. “The same goes for you.”

The man only barely glanced at Zedaph and Tango, to whom the words were addressed. Neither Tango or Zedaph did anything - they were just as shocked by this man, who had the situation fully under his control. They stood, faces a shade paler than usual, barely able to whisper to one another without being noticed and shut down by this man.

With the chosen one locked in place and the other two scared into submission, the man walked over this pack horse with a smile on his face. From two scabbards, he unsheathed two beautifully crafted swords. He quickly decided between the two swords and then tossed one onto the ground, in front of Mr. Leman’s feet. It sunk a little into the snow.

“You know, I’ve never really needed a weapon,” the man stated, still seemingly inspecting the weapon. “With my gifts, why would I ever feel the need to draw something as crude as a blade when my opponents could use theirs?”

Not-Scar’s gaze fixed onto Mr. Leman. Adrenaline rushed through Mr. Leman’s veins, his fear heightening. “But for you - oh, chosen one - for you, I’d happily make an exception. I wasn’t expecting to run into you, but we can make this so much more interesting.” The man glanced at the sword on the ground. “Pick up that sword.”

Mr. Leman’s body obeyed. He bent down and picked up the sword. He couldn’t control the tremor, the fear and panic that coursed through his body. He didn’t expect his second time holding a sword to be forced upon him in these dire circumstances. He desperately attempted to unclench his hand, but it firmly held onto the weapon. The man he faced may have called Mr. Leman a toy of the god-king, but went out of his way to toy with him even more than Joel ever would consider.

“I don’t want to do this,” Mr. Leman said.

A wry laugh came from the man - nothing like the warm laugh from Scar that Mr. Leman had heard once before.

“Even better!” the man exclaimed. He grasped his own sword and focused on the chosen one. “Now… attack me.”

Mr. Leman had no choice. With the weapon in hand, he stabbed forward and ran. The man easily deflected the weapon and stepped aside, allowing Mr. Leman’s momentum to bring him down. He just about barely managed not to fall over and hurt himself. Mr. Leman looked up to where Zedaph and Tango were standing. They had been whispering, but stopped when Mr. Leman looked at him.

“Help me,” Mr. Leman pleaded with them.

“Again!” Not-Scar barked at him, and anything Zedaph and Tango were doing was shot down at the same time. “You can do better than that.”

Mr. Leman pushed himself to his feet, grabbed the sword and attacked Not-Scar again. Years of not being trained with a sword shone in the next sequence. Mr. Leman used moves he’d only ever seen in rare glimpses of movies, which Not-Scar expertly parried. He didn’t think about going on the offensive, only ever seeing what Mr. Leman was doing. At some point, Not-Scar tripped Mr. Leman and he fell to the ground. He landed rather painfully on top of the sword. It only superficially cut him, but blood spilled and mingled with the packed snow nonetheless. He groaned and started to wonder whether freeing Jellie was worth it.

Zedaph and Tango whispered with each other again, and Zedaph nodded once. Mr. Leman couldn’t understand them.

“So disappointing,” the Scar lookalike said walking over to where Mr. Leman lay. “Not surprising in the slightest, but still oh so disappointing. I’d figured the god-king would’ve picked a more competent individual. Not gonna lie, I hoped you’d put up more of a fight.”

He crouched, uncomfortably close to Mr. Leman, the blade of his sword on Mr. Leman’s neck while his gaze was pulled to the witnesses. “I wonder what they’re talking about. Probably whispering about the failure of a person who’s bleeding out in the snow. I mean, just look at you! You came to save the world, and you don’t even know how to properly hold a sword, much less how to use it!”

“I’m sorry.” The words came out before Mr. Leman could stop them. They were addressed more to his friends than this bully. “Please. I’m sorry that–”

“Silent!” Not-Scar snarled. He grabbed Mr. Leman’s hair with his free hand, locking him even more into place. He then continued in a sickly sweet tone, as though they had been friends for a long time. “No, Mr. Leman. You shouldn’t be sorry for anything. That self-proclaimed god-king should be sorry for adding another one to his long, long list of failures.”

He caressed Mr. Leman’s hair once or twice before he pushed Mr. Leman’s face back into the snow and leaned his head close to his ear.

“Stay completely still,” he whispered. Not-Scar pulled away and left Mr. Leman lying in the snow, his muscles locked up and unable to move at all. With his back in the snow, one hand lingering a few inches above the ground and his gaze fixed on where Not-Scar had just been.

He held his sword, staring down at Mr. Leman with a relaxed smile. He had to be the only one enjoying himself. “You asked me who I am. Names… names are so overrated. I am the bad times. I am your worst nightmare. I leave you floundering and speechless and helpless. When I speak, you listen. You always listen. And tonight, well…” he took a satisfied breath. “Tonight, I will be the one who delivers you to Death’s open arms.”

Panic. Adrenaline. Every instinct in his body kicked in, wishing for him to do something, anything, to get away from the situation. Yet, his muscles refused to move even an inch. Mr. Leman could only watch as the sword plunged into his unprotected chest.

Mister Badtimes didn’t strike the heart. Instead, he seemed to be going for his own enjoyment and a drawn-out, painful death for his victim. The sword pierced him right in his abdomen, slowly pushing deeper. Still unable to move, Mr. Leman’s scream was stuck in his closed mouth as the pain slowly spread from his abdomen to the surrounding area, a searing pain that couldn’t be quelled and took up all of his attention and being.

A flash. Not near himself, but near Badtimes’ face. Something bright and painfully yellow hit him in his face and exploded upon impact. It was only a small explosion, yet effective. Badtimes dropped the sword and stumbled backwards, falling over while he screamed in pain. His hands were on his face as he fell and Zedaph and Tango rushed forward.

If Mr. Leman were in a better state of mind, he would have assumed that Zedaph threw a concoction of his own making. Instead, Badtimes’s hold on him faded, so Mr. Leman could scream and cry at the pain in his abdomen. He pulled out the sword and pressed his trembling hands against the wounds.

Zedaph and Tango rushed into view at the same time. Zed grabbed a hold of Mr. Leman’s shoulder with one hand and pressed his hand against the one from Mr. Leman that covered the wound, applying a bit more pressure. He glanced around wildly, mostly to and from Mr. Leman and Badtimes and Tango. Tango fished a playing card out of his pocket, gave it a little twirl in his hand. Mr. Leman could have sworn Tango muttered ‘evasion’ before slamming the card into the ground in between the three of them.

Badtimes’s screams cut out. The next time Mr. Leman opened his eyes, his surroundings were different. There was no little camp, no horse with a cage, no person who was just Bad Times Personified - just the three of them in the middle of nowhere, near one of the crystals.

The proximity alone was enough for Mr. Leman to feel his heat slowly be siphoned away from him. Not much, but enough that he noticed it was happening. The necklace’s magic - whatever it had been gathering all this time - slowly bled out of the gemstone as well, straight towards the crystals. A trail of multi-colored ethereal light trailed away from that necklace towards the green core of the nearest crystal, nearly as tall as a bear. It fascinated him for one reason or another, his eyes following this trail of light.

“How far did that take us?” Zed asked Tango. “I don’t want to–”

“Far enough,” Tango responded. He’d held onto the card and put it away again. “Closer to the border with the jungle, at least.”

Tango pulled out another card, one that Mr. Leman could only quickly see - something about wind. Tango pressed the cold material against Mr. Leman’s skin. The searing pain numbed, no longer ravaging his abdomen and chest. He could breathe better now, and with the pain diminished, he could refocus on his friends.

“Thanks,” he said. Speaking seemed to take some effort, still.

“You’re welcome,” Tango said. “We’re not out of the woods yet. We’ve gotta keep moving.”

Zed and Tango helped Mr. Leman stand up. Almost automatically, Zedaph pulled Mr. Leman’s arm over his shoulder.

“I can walk,” Mr. Leman said. His legs were weak - must be the blood loss and freezing cold and shock - but they could still support him. Not all the time, though. “... I may need help.”

“That’s what I’m here for, buddy”, Zedaph said. Mr. Leman hadn’t noticed before, but he had an iron grasp on that arm. “If at any point you need to stop–”

“I’ll tell ya,” Mr. Leman said and they went on their way.

The numbness from whatever playing card Tango had pressed against it did wonders. It spread evenly out from there, even beyond the radius of pain. It slowly traveled up and down his chest, reaching his hips and shoulders after a while. At the same time, a cloud seemed to descend upon his mind and he found himself easily distracted, glancing everywhere and walking on autopilot.

He couldn’t feel the wound anymore.

Mr. Leman had been pressing against it with the one hand that Zedaph didn’t hold on to. Mr. Leman slowly removed it to look at. The palm of his hand was crimson, as were his clothes and skin where he had been stabbed. Beyond that, they were a deeper and darker red than he would’ve expected - almost black in places, with small tendrils of the color leaking out of him and spreading across his skin.

The cold stroked it. Mr. Leman placed his hand on top of it again to shield it from that freezing cold. It was the one place that felt warm. Everything else seemed cold, no matter how many blankets Tango piled on top of him as they walked. It only weighed him down.

The longer they walked, the more exhausted he became. He didn’t want to admit it, though - they were still on the run from the Badtimes and they needed to make as much distance as possible. But that became so much more difficult with every passing minute, as his feet started to drag more and more and his consciousness faded into and out of reality. How long had they been walking for? He didn’t know, but the sky had darkened and the stars had appeared overhead, performing for those who happened to watch them. That didn’t include Mr. Leman, though.

“Mr. Leman?” Zed’s voice seemed to come from afar. That shouldn’t be right; he was the only one that kept Mr. Leman on his feet. He was right there. “Hey? You still with us?”

“I need to sit…” he mumbled.

Instantly, Zedaph helped Mr. Leman sit down. Tango had taken a blanket out of the backpack and laid it out on the ground, so that Mr. Leman wouldn’t be sitting in the snow the entire time. As soon as Mr. Leman sat down, he fell over onto his side. The blanket was big enough to allow for Mr. Leman to spread out as much as he wanted to, but he didn’t have the energy to do so. Like the heat and magic, it seemed his energy was being tapped from him as well.

Tango helped Mr. Leman to lay on his back and repositioned the bajillion blankets on top of him to keep him warm and comfortable. He peeled back the blanket layers to take a closer look at the wound. Mr. Leman’s head rolled to one side, where both Tango and Zedaph were. The face Tango made wasn’t very promising, shaking his head in terror and confusion.

“Crap, the blade was Netherite?” Tango muttered before he turned to Zedaph and raised his voice. “Zed, he needs a potion of health immediately! That guy had a Netherite sword.”

“On it!” Zedaph said. He immediately dropped whatever he was doing - and in doing so nearly dropped what he was holding onto - to set up his alchemy set. Mr. Leman frowned. Wouldn’t that take a long time?

The strand of magical energy distracted him again.

Tango placed a hand on Mr. Leman’s shoulder and squeezed it once. It brought Mr. Leman back to the moment and he realized he’d completely missed the first part of what Tango had said.

“Hang in there, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Mr. Leman said. Somehow, it was even more difficult to speak now. And beyond that, the exhaustion weighed on him and made him yawn. “Gosh, I’m tired…”

“I know, friend. I know…” he turned to Zed again. “Make potions quicker! He’s withering away.”

“I’m going as quickly as I can here!” Zedaph retorted. He’d set up his whole set-up (wow, Mr. Leman thought, that was quick) and now held two smaller test tube-like bottles in his hand, one of which had a premade concoction of clear liquid in it. He put them aside and tried to get it going but sighed.

“It’s so darn cold here! Tango, could you make a fire?”

“Be right back,” Tango told Mr. Leman before walking the few steps over to Zed. There, he grabbed some dry wood and attempted to set up a campfire. All the while, Zedaph watched Tango with the most neutral or potentially slightly annoyed face that Mr. Leman had ever seen on him.

“You– Tango, you know that is not what I meant.”

“What am I doing?” Tango asked, not looking up from his work.

“You are creating friction between two twigs!”

“I am making the fire.” He looked up at Zed, the flames on his head burning a little brighter. “You asked me to do this! Do you want me to make you a fire or not?”

“I would like one within a second, not ten minutes!” Zedaph seemed to grow more agitated as time passed. “C’mon, I need that fire to get brewing.”

“Why don’t you already have some on hand?”

“I have potions, thank you very much!” Zedaph said, sounded offended. “Not one that can counteract the withering. Not ones that work against a Netherite blade - I didn't even think we'd come across someone who had those yet. Tango, all it needs is one spark. It’s not like he’s gonna notice.”

Zedaph motioned to Mr. Leman, and both heads turned to him.

To be completely honest, Mr. Leman was only picking up bits and pieces of the conversation while understanding none of it. He was watching and trying to look, but didn’t catch anything of importance. His gaze was fluttering back and forth, following the strands of ethereal light that seemed to be coming from the necklace and were drawn to the nearest crystal, far away and well out of sight. Though, the more he looked, the more black strands intermingled with the spectrum of color he had been seeing. He’d reached out once or twice to try to touch it, but his hand was too weak. Then his arm was too weak. Then he couldn’t lift anything anymore or even turn his head. He was stuck in this position with not enough energy to do anything anymore, including having critical thought or consciously listening to the words his friends were saying.

The numbness from the wound had climbed. His heart was going slower than he was used to. His eyelids were close to fluttering shut for a while. Gosh, he was so exhausted - the way his friends bickered was enough cause for concern that he wished to stay awake to see the end of it. He wouldn't want them to start hating each other because of… something.

It looked like Mr. Leman was staring off into the distance, his gaze sometimes lazily drawn to something either of his friends were doing.

“See?” Zedaph said. “He won’t know. Tango, he needs this. You know it, I know it, and I can’t continue without fire. For goodness’ sake, we don’t know how long he’s got left until…” He shook his head. “What makes it so bad to use your native magic?”

“I am not having this conversation right now,” Tango responded. “I’m making a fire in the way that I know to make it safely.”

“Tango, you stubborn, stubborn man!” Zedaph exclaimed. “I swear, if this is the reason why we lose another chosen one–”

“He’s not gonna die,” Tango interrupted him. “He’s not. You are gonna make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“It would help if I had a fire–”

“I’m working on it!”

“Well, work faster, then!”

Zedaph stood up to give Tango the space he needed - and potentially to get away from the incredibly stubborn man who was annoying him. Instead, he approached Mr. Leman and crouched next to him, patting his side.

“Hi, buddy,” Zed said. “How are you doing?”

Mr. Leman didn’t have the energy to respond. Didn’t even have the energy to turn his gaze to where Zedaph’s face was. He was so exhausted, so tired. He’d been watching to see… something, really. He wasn’t quite certain anymore. Tango was working out his frustrations by rubbing two twigs together whereas Zedaph had stopped near him.

He wanted to sleep. He could use some sleep, yet his gaze was caught by the strands of light flowing from him. Zedaph didn’t react to it; perhaps he didn’t see it. Almost all light had been removed from it, leaving only black strands. Comforting darkness that he could so easily lose himself to, that lulled him to the sleep he was longing for.

He’d held on for so long… why shouldn’t he take a break?

“Chosen one?” Zedaph’s voice sounded so far away. He barely felt hands grab his shoulders and shaking him. “Skizz? Skizz!”

Skizz closed his eyes and slept while his mind followed the black strands of light.

Chapter Text

Oh, the bliss to just be with no expectations.

He was floating. Or perhaps gently falling. Or perhaps lying on something soft, but it did not matter. This aspect of bliss did not determine how good of a time he was having.

Bliss. Peace and quiet wrapped in a layer of tranquility. His mind was slow and sluggish, but in a good way. He needn't think here. He needn't perceive anything, be that with his eyes or ears or hands. He needn't do anything but be steeped in that all-encompassing sense of bliss that he was slowly slipping into.

“Skizz?” A familiar voice said. “Skizz Leman.”

No…

He understood he was being addressed. He understood how the sing-song voice coaxed him into a response. But he was resting now, and he didn't appreciate how this voice tried to disturb this heavenly sense of peace.

“Wakey, wakey, Skizz,” the voice continued. Skizz recognized it as Zed's. “Open your eyes and wake up…”

“But I don't wanna…” Skizz whined.

The voice - Zed - didn't just disturb his peace, he was shattering it. Skizz became aware that he was neither floating nor falling, but lying on something soft. He became aware of the darkness he found himself in; not because he was in an exceptionally dark space, but because his eyes were closed. The more Zed spoke, the more Skizz became aware of everything, and he hated it.

“I know this is comfortable and cozy, but you gotta open your eyes. Give it a try.”

Skizz groaned. He really did want to. Couldn’t Zed's voice just leave him alone?

Apparently not. Perhaps, if Skizz did what Zed asked of him, he would be left alone.

Skizz opened his eyes to pink smoke. Except, on closer inspection, it was more like pink wool. Something in the middle distance moved, and Skizz could swear he could feel something breathe - something that he was lying on top of. A head briefly raised up and he frowned. Was that a sheep?

“Good job!” The voice said from next to him.

Skizz turned his head, instinctively ready to tell his friend not to mess with him and to leave him to his rest. 

The sky was a strange pink-ish yellow, unnatural and a sharp contrast to the dark robes and long hood that reminded Skizz of death. The biggest jumpscare was Zed's wide smile underneath this large hood.

“What in the–” Skizz shot up into a sitting position, his gaze fixated on the figure with Zed's face. No way this was his friend.

“You did so great,” Zed said. “Opening your eyes is the most difficult part, well done!”

No, this wasn't something that chose to wear Zed's face. With those mannerisms, those speech patterns, it had to be Zedaph. How could he have thought this was anyone else? Once more, his gaze glided over Zed in his Death cosplay, becoming even more confused.

“Zed? What's going on? Why do you look like–?”

“Oh, these old robes?” Zedaph looked down at the dark robes that hid most of his body. He lifted his head to face Skizz again. “That's for my apprenticeship.”

“Apprenticeship?” Skizz frowned. It took a good five seconds before he made the connection and his eyes widened. “You're the apprentice of death?”

Zed was nodding preemptively and continued after Skizz had correctly guessed Zedaph's side-gig. “Yep. Neither of us saw it coming, to be fair, but it is a splendid opportunity.” He placed a hand next to his mouth and leaned in conspiratorially, as though he was ready to reveal a secret. 

“Legally, I'm not allowed to do this, but the world kinda needs ya, so I'm sure death won't mind me bending the rules a little bit.”

It took another three seconds before that realization hit.

“I'M DEAD!?”

It all made sense all of a sudden. The enormous pink sheep he was on top of, the weird sky colors, the image of Death as worn by its apprentice, that ever-peaceful bliss. Okay, perhaps only the final two of those made a little bit of sense, the other two were plain weird, but still! Zed remained too calm for the situation as Skizz instinctively looked down where he'd gotten hurt. Where this sword had struck him, no wound was visible. He looked back at Zed, unsure how to even continue. He'd been breathing the entire time, hadn't he? Or was that just something he did because he'd always done it?

“Yes, you are,” Zed said unhelpfully in the same tone as before, “but I've stopped your soul from drifting too far. Wouldn't want ya to be out of my reach.”

“Would that be a problem?” Skizz wondered out loud, realizing he knew the answer as these words were spoken aloud.

“A little bit, yeah,” Zed admitted. He reached out a hand. “Take my hand if you want to live.”

As soon as Zed began to speak, Skizz took the hand.

Already, Skizz lost his grip on the hand and tumbled. The sheep on top of which they stood, disappeared. Skizz dropped instantly, falling away from Zed and the strange situation that he’d found himself in as darkness wrapped around him. It drove him to the edge of unconsciousness and nearly lost himself to it, yet he never crossed that threshold. Instead, though he’d lost most sensations for a moment, he slowly but steadily regained his senses. The darkness was no longer something he was falling into, but a presence because his eyes were closed. He lay on something soft, but only a layer of softness laid on top of a rough surface. In fact, he was wrapped up in this soft, warmth - perhaps a blanket - that warded him from the cold that reached his cheeks and the parts of his face that were exposed to the elements. His ears picked up the sounds of a nearby conversation at a nearby crackling fire.

A spot on his abdomen felt warmer than the surrounding skin.

Skizz instinctively attempted to move his hands. They were wrapped up along with the blanket, making it difficult to move them. With a frown he lifted his head and attempted to open his eyes; immediately his vision swam in front of his eyes and his head began to ache. The conversation stopped.

“Skizz?” Footsteps approached and a hand was placed on his shoulder.

Skizz forced himself to make another attempt to open his eyes. The flames atop Tango’s head were too bright. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out yet. 

Tango sighed deeply in relief. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You should rest.”

Another attempt to lift his hand failed. Perhaps because Skizz tried to do that as well as trying to turn his head to better face Tango, even if his vision wasn’t great and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Rest, Skizz,” Tango said. “You need it. Rest.”

Skizz couldn’t struggle against Tango’s orders. He let his head rest and stopped moving his hands. Tango released his shoulder right as Skizz helplessly drifted off to a restful sleep. Time passed him by once more - though one thing could wake him up.

The scent of freshly-cooked bacon hit his nose and gently pulled him out of his sleep. He groggily opened his eyes and turned his head in the direction of the smell. A campfire had once again been made on the… meadow? It was still a little chilly, but Skizz saw grasses and flowers and trees instead of a layer of snow. His movements attracted the attention of his friends, their heads turning towards him.

“Good morning, Skizz,” Tango said. “Bacon?”

“Yes,” Skizz said with a hoarse voice and he nodded. Tango got up with a plate of food and a bottle of water. Zedaph also came over, to free Skizz from the prison of blankets that he had been wrapped into.

“Welcome back,” Zed said with a wide smile, helping Skizz sit up. Skizz tilted his head slightly, looking at Zed. The memory was vague, but still present. He could have sworn he had seen Zedaph in the weird black robes and hood of Death. He had been dead, but didn’t remember much of it - but he was alive now. He breathed in air. He was hungry and was about to get some pretty good bacon. He was alive again and he had his friend to thank for it.

Tango handed the plate of food - a nice bacon sandwich - to Skizz.

“Here you go,” he said, patting Sizz on the back twice. He immediately dug in, quelling the hunger deep within. Gods, he could eat a full horse right about now.

“So…” Zedaph said. “How are you feeling now?”

Good question. He didn’t have a clue.

He did have a good think about it. Beyond the hunger that he didn’t know he had until he smelled bacon, he didn’t really feel anything. Even the chill was just the environment clinging to the blankets and attempting to get to him, but his friends had done a great job at keeping him warm. Though, there might just be one thing.

“I’m feeling weirdly numb right about here,” Skizz said, placing his hand on his chest where this numb feeling persisted. Even placing his hand almost made it feel like he was pressing fabric into skin that wasn’t his own.

Zed nodded. “That’ll happen, yeah. It stays for a bit, but you’ll feel like yourself in no time.”

Curiosity got the better of him. He lifted his shirt to look at the wound left by Badtimes. The edges still had a darker coloration, but looked more like a bruise reaching its darkest coloration rather than necrosis eating away at him. That was the spot that felt numb, and it surprised him that they A) hadn’t disinfected the wound and B) hadn’t put a bandage on it.

“You might want to keep an eye on that wound,” Zed said. “The sword you got stabbed with was made of Netherite, a highly corrosive and damaging material that is not great for a body, let alone a purely human body. These should help, though.”

From his pocket, Zedaph pulled a vial with a dark red liquid in it. If Skizz didn’t know better, he would have likened it to blood. Perhaps it was blood. “This can help counteract most of the bad side-effects of being stabbed with a Netherite blade. You’ll still feel a bit weird for a while, but nothing that actively harms you or your body.”

Okay, that was a good thing to know. He took the vials from Zed, taking a look at it. He should put it into the backpack, where they would be safer, but for the time being, it would help to know he had one of those in his pocket in case of emergencies. If only for a little while.

“Thanks, buddy,” Skizz said after he swallowed his latest bite of the bacon sandwich he was devouring. “What do I owe you?”

For the vials of Netherite protection, for the resurrection. It still kind of felt unreal something like that was happening. He wondered if he should freak out more about having been dead, but perhaps his mind had made peace with it during the time he was recovering from the wound. Perhaps it hadn’t had any time yet to process any of it and used this time to procrastinate that. In any case, his back continued to itch like it had the past few days and he needed to know what he owed Zedaph for his incredibly generous help.

“A smoothie.”

“A smoothie?” Skizz frowned. “I… I don’t think we have the ingredients for that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zed waved Skizz’s concerns away. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Zed…” the way Tango drew out the name made Skizz think he said it as a warning. Perhaps Zedaph interpreted it in a similar way.

“Don’t give me that tone, Tango.”

“I’m not giving you anything,” Tango responded.

“Pretty sure you just did.”

“I’m just saying, don’t push it. He just got back from the dead and is still recovering from a Netherite wound. Don’t make it too ridiculous.”

Zedaph stared at Tango with an exaggerated fake-shocked look in his eyes.

“What kind of person do you take me for? Of course it’s going to be ridiculous from time to time.” He turned to Skizz. “One aspect of coming back - you kinda owe me.”

Skizz nodded. That much he already guessed, hence his previous question.

“I swear, I’m making you that smoothie as soon as possible.” He wasn’t even sure how he would be able to do that without a blender, but this world had already been more surprising than he could have hoped for. Who knows, maybe someone had a magical blender somewhere that he could use to make that smoothie.

“Oh, not just that,” Zed said. “You see, I brought you back to life. You are bound to my service now until I release you. It’s a whole thing.”

Sorry, what?

“Well, that’s stupid.” The words escaped Skizz’s mouth before he could think about it.

“It is. But, it could also be fun.” Zed nodded once, slowly, as though to convey it would be really fun. “Just be glad it’s me and not one of them fairies from the west. Now, those guys would just work you to the bone.”

Skizz had no idea what that meant, and at this point, he didn’t want to find out, either. Right now, with a full mouth, he thought it best to nod and agree and remember to ask about these fairies later. After he’d finished eating his plate, Tango took it from him, so that Skizz didn’t have to get up and clean it. 

“Skizz, you sure you’re okay?” Tango asked him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Though I did want to…”

He stopped in the middle of his sentence. Wait a second–

Skizz glanced at Zed and Tango with wide eyes. “My name!”

Zed nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s my name!” Skizz exclaimed. He tried to form it in his mouth and found that something no longer blocked him from even mouthing it. It really was back. “How did I get my name back? "When, even?”

“That happened when you were dead,” Zed said casually, as if death really did not matter. A knot formed in Skizz’s stomach. “We were talking about you and realized we could use your name. I guess Scar was extremely happy to see his familiar again.” 

“What did you want to say?” Tango quickly changed the subject. He must’ve seen the strange look on Skizz’s face when death was mentioned.

“What - oh, right.” For a second, the joy of his name and the strange feeling about his death distracted him from what he’d wanted to talk about to his friends. Something that kind of felt weird to talk about, but they were the experts of this place and if this was something strange, Skizz wanted to know about it instead of letting it fester. If it was bad, he didn’t want it to fester.

“I’ve been having this itch,” Skizz confessed, and he described the itch on his back and when he started to feel it to the best of his ability.

“Lemme see,” Zedaph said, immediately moving behind Skizzleman and easily slipping back into his secondary role as group doctor. “We just got you back, I don’t need anything else to–”

He rolled up the fabric of the shirt and exposed the part that had been itching. Instantly, Zedaph stopped talking.

“You just went quiet,” Skizz said. “I can’t see what’s going on there and I don’t like that silence.”

“Talk to me, Zed,” Tango said. He remained within Skizz’s view, as calm as he could be. Perhaps he stayed calm so that Skizz wouldn’t start freaking out. “What are you seeing?”

“I honestly don’t know if this is good or bad news for you,” Zed said. His tone, at the very least, suggested nothing too alarming. So perhaps this bad news wasn’t so bad. Still, Zed called it ‘bad news’, so Skizz truly had no idea what to think.

“Why not?” Tango wondered out loud.

“It appears the magic of this world is clinging to you in a way that the necklace is not exactly keeping up with all too well.”

Skizz glanced down at the necklace. It has been doing a great job keeping magic from influencing him. At least, that was what he was told. That was what he had been assuming all this time. So this news did come as a little bit of a shock. Still, Skizz couldn’t really feel weirded out or shocked - that numbness within him seemed to numb what he was feeling emotionally as well as physically.

“Which means?” Skizz asked.

“You’ve got some stubs in your shoulder blade area,” Zedaph responded. “So, basically… you’re growing wings.”

Wings.

He was growing wings .

“What kind of wings?” was all Skizz could say about it.

“Hard to tell at this stage,” Zed responded. “Looks like you’re gonna be magical quicker than we anticipated.”

Well… that was something.

Despite all the emotions that should be swirling around in his mind, he could not scream his thoughts and vocalize his feelings, to try to figure them out for himself. Instead, that weird numb feeling around his wound had settled in his stomach, and prevented him from truly sorting out what he thought about everything.

Chapter Text

Badtimes always felt a lot better when he arrived back at the Evil Empire. Its former name was long forgotten, both through mundane and magical means. All that was left was the name of the being who reshaped the demon kingdom into the fierce enemy that it was today. 

An enemy that none but the natural citizens see behind the closed borders. Nature within these borders did not necessarily thrive, but it didn’t grow either. Almost as though some big cosmic force was holding back their growth, or some parasite way below the ground siphoned all the resources they would need to flourish.

Cities had never truly existed here, and they certainly didn't now. Most citizens - all demons - aggregated around the main tower, at the foot of the mountains, living their best lives in the service of their Lord and Savior, their enigmatic faceless leader. From the distance, Badtimes relished in the sight of the tent camps around the deepslate castle that rose above and towered over the people. Perhaps only a well-timed lightning strike behind the castle on a clear day could make it any clearer that this place was perfectly steeped in evil.

As Badtimes rode through the tent camps to the main gates, he could feel how dull the citizens of the already dull empire were. The demons stopped talking while he passed, and all of them cleared the way for him. They bowed their heads, afraid to make eye contact, and a grin crept up Badtimes’ face. 

Surely resentment hung in the air; surely some would be smart enough to report that behavior to the nearest enforcer. Yet, Badtimes rode fearlessly, for none of them would ever dare to attack a personal employee of their leader. None of them could use their inherent risk-based magic to attack him, either, for in these lands their magic was too weak to have any lasting impact on anything.

The promise to use that magic elsewhere was enough. Their thirst for power - the promise of an opportunity to be that powerful - was enough to sway the majority and keep them complacent. Train now, stay obedient, and be a beast in combat later.

Badtimes paid no attention to these people beyond the misery they chose to continue to live in. Instead, as he rode the bridge to the castle gates, he could feel a lingering memory creep up his leg. He did not bat it away, for he knew exactly which memory lingered, and he loved to revisit it from time to time.

In the memory, Badtimes rode up the bridge, as he’d done so many times. Two guards at the gate watched him arrive, and spoke with one another. The gate wasn’t raised, as Badtimes was used to. No problem, for nothing was a problem for him in the Evil Empire. So he rode up, and the guards refused him entry. Badtimes said nothing as he allowed the guards to argue their case. Then, after they were done talking, Badtimes only needed one sentence.

“Do I need to tell you to let me through, or are you just going to do it?”

It hung between the guards for a second, but they decided to allow him entry. The shiver that ran down their spines was marvelous and the panic in their eyes satiated him in a way that was so pleasantly comfortable.

Badtimes shook the memory off of him, shed it back onto the bridge for the next time he felt like experiencing it. When he opened his eyes again, this set of guards had already opened the gates for him. They bowed for him as he passed through, but he barely spared them a second glance. He was back home, in the tower where he was created, and with the person whom he called master.

He couldn’t wait to tell his master that he had dispatched another chosen one before it became a threat.

The horse was stabled; since his arrival in the Evil Empire, this steed had grown almost as dull as the environment. All Badtimes did was give the horse to the stablemaster and immediately leave for his evilness’ private chambers, all the way at the top of the tower.

The top of the tower was not only a strategic position within the castle, but also was a test of loyalty in itself. The many, many stairs that lead up were enough to make even the fittest demon sweat and pant before they even reached three quarters up. Of course, for someone like Badtimes that was no problem - as a being created by pure magic, he did not adhere to any laws of naturally-born creatures. Exhaustion played no role, neither extreme heat nor extreme cold could fell him, and his loyalty to the master knew no bounds. Only those his evilness wished to speak to and his three loyally created manservants would ever see the top of those stairs.

Except for today. Badtimes arrived at the top floor and the hallway that led to the magnificently decorated wooden door that gave access to the emperor’s private chambers. In that hallway, a demon loitered around.

At first, Badtimes believed this may be a cleaner. Sometimes, one of the demons who worked in the castle was tasked with going up here to keep the area immaculate. This one did not wear the dreary crimson of a cleaner, though, and he appeared to be standing around near the door. Almost as though he was listening in to any conversation that was happening inside.

Badtimes did not give this demon the benefit of the doubt. If he was supposed to be cleaning, he would have been cleaning when Badtimes arrived.

“Ahem.”

The demon froze and slowly turned his head as Badtimes briskly walked up. This demon seemed to be rather meek, all things considered; his dirty yellow jacket had almost lost all its color, and his horns had been polished to the best of his ability with the little resources that were made available. So, he had enough time to take care of his appearance before doing any of the jobs that were made available to him.

“Tell me your name,” Badtimes said, the inherent magic flowing from his lips into the poor demon.

The demon fought to keep the name in, but he could not resist. None could resist his commands. “Impulse.”

“Well, Impulse…” Badtimes said casually, “The next time I see you loitering in this hallway, you are dead. Understood?”

The demon - Impulse - nodded quickly. The fear was almost palpable, and Badtimes relished in it. He let it linger for a second, letting this lowly demon know that he meant it. As he always meant it.

“Leave.”

Though the command was magically given, Impulse hurried away as though Badtimes was chasing him with his Netherite blade. For a second, Badtimes fantasized about drawing a bow and shooting this demon in the back. Or perhaps chasing this fool and actually striking him in the back, to teach him a lesson he would never forget - for never would only be a few more seconds. But Impulse disappeared behind the corner, and the chance disappeared just as quickly.

With no more distractions at the door, Badtimes turned and stepped through the magnificently decorated door.

The room was lavishly big, with pillars with spiral designs holding up the roof. Certain parts of the room were sectioned off by semi-transparent draperies made of fine silks. The central area was a grand throne room, with a golden throne that towered above everything else. A little behind it stood a desk, where the more official business was conducted. On a raised platform, to the back left, out of his view, was where their master and the leader of the Evil Empire lived.

One of these sections to the left belonged to Badtimes; a bare area with a bed and some books, to keep busy until he was needed again. To the right, two more areas were currently occupied by the loyal servants. One had a nest a couple of feet off the ground, where currently a harpy sat with a book. Her hair was tied back and her eyes only briefly lifted off of the pages of her book when Badtimes entered. She nodded at him, and he nodded back. In the section after that rose a cacophony of noises. Badtimes needed just a glance to see an armored man tear into a training dummy that had a picture taped to it. Once, the picture showed a seal, but Helsknight’s repeated cuts and stabs made it unclear.

As soon as Helsknight realized Badtimes had entered the room, he turned all of his attention to his fellow servant, holding his own Netherite sword loosely in his hand.

“Would you look at that,” Helsknight said, ambling out of his little spot. “The bad times have returned.”

Badtimes bowed slightly for the knight, his lips a thin smile. “Always a pleasure to be assaulted by your stench, good knight.”

“Really?” Helsknight said. The grip on his sword tightened, yet he did nothing. “Immediately launching into personal attacks?”

“I merely wanted to be ahead of your insults aimed at me,” Badtimes explained with the arrogant politeness of a store manager who believes themselves to be in the right - the exact type of person that Helsknight could not stand. 

Almost immediately, Helsknight launched into a barrage of insults, which did not seem to hurt Badtimes in the slightest. The returned diplomat even glanced briefly at True, who was shaking her head. Badtimes, however, was never truly one to heed warnings.

“Shut up.”

Instantly, Helsknight’s mouth snapped shut, unable to open it anymore. It infuriated the knight even more, making all sorts of obscene gestures and getting to the point where he might use his sword against the man who’d shut him up. Badtimes just grinned, for he thought it was funny.

“What did we say about using magic on our allies?” True’s voice rang through the chamber. She’d put the book aside, but hadn’t left her nest. Her piercing blue eyes stared at Badtimes, who could not ignore that gaze or the affirmative shouts and pointing from Helsknight.

“Fine,” he said with the deepest sigh. “Speak, if you must—”

“You are the most arrogant, vapid, stupid–”

“There we go!” Badtimes exclaimed, spreading his arms. “Come on then, bad boy, say it!”

“ENOUGH!”

The voice thundered through the room, and in its wake only silence reigned. All eyes were pulled to the section to the left, to the raised platform where their master lived.

They have never seen their master’s face, for it was concealed by a strange helmet. From the vizor, two red eyes narrowed and gazed at the servants he had once created. This leader had named the empire after himself, for the Evil Empire belonged to Evil X. Currently, their ruler rose from their seated position, water dripping off of his skin and back into the hot tub that was the centerpiece of Evil X’s space.

The servants waited and averted their gaze while Evil X clothed himself.

As soon as they heard the footsteps descend the stairs, the servants lifted their heads and looked at their leader again. Evil X sauntered over in a crimson bathrobe, those glowing red eyes focused primarily on Badtimes.

“You will accomplish nothing with infighting,” Evil X said, the venom nearly spitting from his mouth. 

True gauged the reactions of Badtimes and Helsknight, who conceded and nodded in agreement. They were incapable of disagreeing with their leader, after all. Once they did, Evil X fully turned to face Badtimes.

“How was your journey?” he asked. “I expect it was fruitful.”

“I came across the person I was modeled after. He didn’t seem to notice, but his familiar was around. I caught her, but she unfortunately slipped through my fingers. The Jungle remains impenetrable, too. It refuses me entrance,” Badtimes admitted - he was incapable of lying to his master. “The Ice Kingdom, however, still proves to be more easily swayed. Their queen was rather agreeable, even if her gruff bodyguard was not. I’ve secured a deal that allows your armies to march through unimpeded.”

Badtimes fished his copy of the contract from his pocket. It had been crumpled up during the journey, but the paper had survived. He offered it to Evil X, who took it and attempted to uncrumple it. His eyes scanned across the document, then lifted his gaze. Though his mouth was not visible through the helmet, their master appeared to be pleased.

“Well done,” Evil X said. 

Badtimes took a little bow. “I only wish to serve.”

The intense glare in his back - courtesy of Helsknight - only made the moment all the sweeter.

“Why should you get all the praise?” Helsknight said, the resentment brimming inside. He gestured at himself and True. “We’ve been working our butts off, too!”

“Have you?” Badtimes asked, with half a smirk.

“Yeah!” Helsknight exclaimed. “Because of us, the Ice Kingdom is the wasteland it is today. Because of us, there’s discord among the fae of the Wild Lands. And because of us,” his voice became a growl, “the chosen one is dead.”

This was supposed to frustrate Badtimes, to make him feel lesser than Helsknight. Badtimes didn’t allow this to get under his skin - instead, he was feeling like doing that to his not-so-friendly rival.

“Well, because of me, another has died.”

What little color Helsknight’s cheeks drained as that shit-eating grin disappeared from his face. “What?”

Badtimes let it sit between them for a second before he turned to Evil X again.

“Your evilness, on the road back home, I came across a new chosen one. Another useful idiot the god-king conveniently found in another world to do his dirty work. The poor fool did not stand a chance.” He paused for dramatic effect, glanced at Helsknight. “My blade hasn't seen blood in a long time. That night, it was bathed in it.”

That last sentence was specifically said to egg on Helsknight. It seemed to have done its job, for the knight was fuming and trying his best not to blow up. Evil X folded his arms and appeared to be amused by the friendly rivalry and the attempts at keeping friendly in his presence.

“Where’s the body?” True chimed in from her nest.

Badtimes slowly shook his head, the perfect smile on his lips breaking a little. “True…”

“You would’ve dragged their corpse here, just to make a mockery of it,” the harpy continued. “I don’t see it here.”

This statement prompted Evil X to step forward and turn his most critical gaze to Badtimes. “Where is the chosen one?”

Badtimes cleared his throat. “After I dealt a lethal blow, his - I assume - court-appointed babysitters intervened and teleported him away. I've no reason to believe he survived the Netherite.”

“Without a corpse, there's little proof you've done your job,” Helsknight said, delighted by this turn of events and the lack of a corpse.

“Need I remind you that you threw the previous one in the ocean?” Badtimes said.

“She’s still dead.”

“She’s un dead,” Badtimes corrected his rival. “There’s a stark difference—”

“So the current chosen one may still be alive,” Evil X interrupted, looking at Badtimes. “Yes?”

Badtimes gulped and nodded. “Yes, your evilness.”

Evil X narrowed his eyes - and with it, the tension in the room heightened.

“Then I suggest you ensure your second strike will pierce his heart.”

“Yes, your evilness,” Badtimes briefly bowed his head again. “When I kill him, do I get to use the hottub?”

The silence was left between a servant who’s asked too many times and a master who made the promise once in the past and is thoroughly regretting it. Evil X bit his tongue; though the hot tub would only serve as motivation, his created servants needed no such motivation. They would do his bidding regardless. Yet, the hot tub served its purpose well, and perhaps it may have equally beneficial effects for these servants.

“Only when you drag the chosen one's lifeless, unmoving corpse into this very room.”

“I’ll mutilate it right in front of you,” Badtimes promised. 

Helsknight rolled his eyes and groaned. Badtimes shook his head again and, without looking at his rival, placed a hand on his shoulder. Helsknight batted it away immediately, but Badtimes had already made his point by then.

“Not to change the topic,” Badtimes began, “but I still think we should’ve gone for the third merchant. Perhaps we would be more… amicable.”

“I will cut you open!” Helsknight hissed under his breath, so that only Badtimes could hear it. Badtimes did not respond, only looked at Evil X, who sighed deeply.

“This again?” he said. “We've discussed this a million times.”

“The third is corrupted and could come out wrong,” True said, parroting what Evil X had said those million times before. Evil X nodded, thankful that one of them remembered what had been said about the third traveling merchant.

“We still don’t know what ails him,” Evil X explained further, in the hopes that the two male servants would imprint that knowledge into their minds. “Whatever it is, we can say it has a similar point of origin as what is currently plaguing the Undead Empire. As long as he is as corrupted as that dying country, we can expect his copy to come out wrong and be out of control, and our efforts could be better spent elsewhere.”

In other words, Evil X didn’t want to waste any resources on a potential failure.

“I’ll do it,” Helsknight blurted out. From the corner of his eyes, he glared at Badtimes. “I’ll find a way to un-corrupt him.”

“I’m not sure that even is a word,” Badtimes said.

“I don’t care!” Helsknight turned his full attention to his evil master. “Sir, I will go to the Undead Empire and I will discover how to expel this corruption from a person. Once I know how to do that, you can make that copy of a fourth person. I don’t doubt they will be an excellent addition to the cause. And then–” He cast one more glare towards Badtimes. “–then you’ll see how the dynamic changes. I’ll still be needed and you’ll have a fourth to contend with.”

“They’re only ever gonna be on our side,” Badtimes casually said, motioning his head to True.

“We’ll see about that,” Helsknight huffed and he stormed to the door, slamming it on his way out. 

True descended from her nest and softly landed on the tiled floor. She looked at Evil X. Ever the professional, her opinions were kept behind tightly-sealed lips and only occasionally revealed. Now, she gave her master a little nod.

“I’ll go with him,” she said. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t make any mistakes.”

“Yes. Go after him,” Evil X commanded her. “Go and be the voice of reason when he inevitably does something rash.”

True bowed her head and followed after Helsknight. The door softly fell into its hinges, leaving Badtimes with Evil X. As soon as True left the room, Badtimes focused his attention his master again.

“I would not mind to have another here,” he truthfully said. “Especially if it means that Helsknight has a new target for his frustrations. Who knows, maybe he can even retire.”

“Don’t speak about an ally like that,” Evil X scolded him. The mere tone of the statement nearly made Badtimes flinch. “He has my best interests at heart, so you shall treat him with the–”

“Your evilness?” Badtimes wasn’t one to interrupt his master, but what he saw warranted the behavior. Hedared not say anything else, but his gaze was firmly open Evil X’s hand.

It used to be a hand. A minute ago, it resembled a gloved hand. Now, however, it was merely a formless blob with five little stumps where there once were fingers. As soon as Evil X noticed, his brow furrowed to focus. With some effort - both concentration as well as shaking and molding it back into shape - he was able to have it return to the semblance of a hand it was supposed to be.

Evil X’s eyes snapped at Badtimes. The servant was smart not to mention it and to avert his gaze from the hand.

“Get out of my sight!” Evil X snarled at him. “And don’t return without the chosen one’s corpse.”

Badtimes wordlessly bowed his head and walked out of the room. Only Evil X was left at the top of the tower. As soon as he was all alone, Evil X stared at the misshapen hand. It looked like a hand again, yes, but anyone would be able to see that it looked wrong. This was not a good sign.

Evil X turned around and returned to his hot tub.

Chapter Text

Travel wasn’t that difficult. It was still cold, of course, but it wasn’t as freezingly cold as it was deeper into the Ice Kingdom. It was the presence of the jungle, according to Skizz’s friends - the closer they came, the warmer it would be. Which would be great, because his arms were still kinda freezing off. With every new step he took, all Skizz could think of was the warmth of the jungle. Pretty sure he was gonna kiss the first jungle tree he saw and thank the jungle itself for saving his poor, sleeveless arms from a slow and painful death. 

Fortunately, the snow was melting and other colors beyond white began to pop up. As well as the temperature rising. That was great; good times all around.

No, what made the travel challenging - not difficult, but challenging - was Zedaph. He wasn’t necessarily doing anything, but he was making Skizz do a lot of things that were time-consuming at best and tedious at best. All in the name of repaying him for bringing him back to life. They were never harmful, though - only just tedious.

Such as this one. Skizz hadn’t minded hopping on one foot for a while, but it’s been dragging on for a while and he was getting a little tired of it. Fortunately, Tango noticed.

“Zed, stop it!” 

“Why?” Zedaph asked innocently. “This isn’t harmful.”

“No, but it could be a detriment. We’re almost in the jungle, do you think it’s a good idea to have him keep doing this?”

“I kinda agree with that?” Skizz said. His legs were starting to get tired. “I could keep doing it, but, y’know. Jungle.” It may be a nightmare to hop through a jungle on one leg. It would also just be extremely tedious and exhausting to keep doing it.

“Alright, fine!” Zedaph said in a tone that feigned indignance. He turned to Skizz. “You don’t have to hop on one leg anymore.”

“Thank you!” Skizz immediately put down his foot and stopped hopping. He didn’t remember for how long he had been doing it, but boy, had he underestimated how good it would feel to just stand with both feet on the ground for even a second.

“We’ll continue these after we’ve come out of the Jungle,” Zed said.

Skizz didn’t have any response to that. Tango just grumbled a little, but Zed either didn’t hear it or pretended not to hear it. At least they allowed Skizz a moment to take a breather before they went on their merry way again.

To the jungle. 

Why is it, every time that Skizz blinked and realized they’d covered a lot of ground, he only then started to see the changes? Same as the autumn leaves. All’s good and well and the leaves still hang on the trees then, boom, one day, you look and your pavement’s covered in the red and orange and yellow and brown leaves that no longer could cling to the trees while the others were still holding on for dear life. The same applied to this landscape. From one moment to the next, Skizz noticed there were fewer and fewer crystals around. Not only that, the temperature was warmer and there was no snow anymore. You’d think this was something he’d noticed sooner, but no. Maybe he couldn’t because he was fulfilling Zedaph’s ridiculous tasks as payment for being resurrected.

On top of that, in the distance, a bunch of tall thick trees were clustered together, claiming the whole horizon. The famed jungle that Zedaph and Tango were talking about was right in sight, ready to be crossed by this trio. Nothing would stand in their way!

Well, one person stood in their way. Though she wasn’t necessarily blocking the path, moreso standing on the side of the road. Like almost all sentient creatures that Skizz had met on the road, she appeared rather human from a distance. However, when they got closer, he realized that she very much wasn’t. Her clothes were elegant and breezy, an easy wear - which probably was a requirement when you have moth wings that could completely cover your whole body if you rolled yourself up in them. A mail bag was slung over her shoulder. 

Skizz looked at his friends to see whether he should treat this person as a threat or not. By how relaxed they both looked and Tango even got a bit of a smile on his face, Skizz figured this person was not dangerous at all and could be safely approached.

The moth woman pushed her brown hair out of her face and waved the group over to her position.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” she called them over. As they came closer, they noticed she had an envelope in her hand. “I’ve got a letter for the chosen one! Is that man you’re traveling with the chosen one?”

Zedaph and Tango glanced at Skizz simultaneously.

Skizz raised a finger. “I am.”

“There ya go!” the moth woman handed over the envelope with a smile. Scribbled on top of it was ‘chosen one’. For a second, Skizz wondered who would have forgotten his name - until he realized that he literally got his name back days ago. Skizz opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

“Did you lose your name?” the moth woman asked. “I don’t tend to deliver mail to unnamed persons, but king Joel insisted I bring this to you.”

Oh, so it was a letter from Joel. Lovely.

“Oh, yeah,” Skizz said when he realized the woman was waiting for an answer. “Briefly. I got it back, though. I’m Skizz.” 

He held out a hand for her to shake. The woman took him up on the offer and shook his hand. She had a rather firm grasp.

“My name’s Pearl.” 

After this small exchange, Skizz read the letter while Tango and Zed chatted with her. From the conversation, it seemed that Tango knew Pearl well, while she and Zed were more like acquaintances. Skizz couldn’t really pay attention to the conversation because he was reading the letter from the king of the Lore Kingdom. Turns out, he was just getting a little worried and impatient, asking him whether or not he had the ring and when he would be returning because this journey shouldn’t be taking that long. A lot of words to basically say: ‘I want that ring now, I’m annoyed I don’t have it yet, where are you?’

Skizz lifted his head and butted into the conversation.

“Can I respond to this?” he asked Pearl.

“If you quickly want to write up a response, you can definitely do that!” Pearl said. From one of her pockets, she took a pen. Skizz simply turned the page and started to write. It wasn’t an essay like the one Joel had written him, but one that still included the basic facts: that he lost his name and got it back, that they snatched the ring from a nasty drowned woman (that totally wasn’t his ex-wife, another nasty woman) and that he managed to die in the Ice Kingdom but he was okay now, heading back to the Lore Kingdom as quickly as possible.

Skizz finished writing his letter when Pearl, Tango and Zed were finishing up their conversation. He handed the pen and the new letter back to Pearl.

“Thank you, Skizzley,” Pearl said. She saluted the men. “I’ll see ya next time!”

She tucked the letter into a pocket of her mailbag and then spread her wings. Without any delays, she lifted off and flew up, higher and higher, away toward the Lore Kingdom, probably, to deliver the letter. If there weren’t any other letters to deliver elsewhere, of course.

“She’s fun,” Skizz noted once she was out of earshot and almost out of sight.

“She actually is,” Tango agreed with a nod, followed by a moment of silence. A moment during which Skizz became aware of the itch on his back.

Skizz smacked his forehead. “Dang it, I should’ve asked her about her wings!”

“You’ll get that chance one day,” Zed said. “Now, no more dilly-dallying! We’re at the Jungle, we should get through as quickly as possible! The sooner we lose the path, the better!”

“What?” Skizz said, a frown on his face.

“You just wanna stay close,” Tango said. “Don’t lose line of sight of either of us, okay? You don’t want to get lost here.”

“...Okay.” Skizz nodded cautiously.

As they walked into the jungle, following the road ahead of them, Skizz’s mind was still kinda stuck on the wings. The last time he seriously thought about it, was when he was just brought back to life and feeling a little out of it. He still couldn’t tell whether it was a symptom of being resurrected or because he was given something that made him feel numb - pretty sure it could’ve been the potion they gave him to combat the withering effect on the wound until it was fully suppressed - but that was when he learned about it.

He could’ve been more excited. In fact, he should’ve been more excited. He was growing wings! The prospect of it made him feel giddy; never had he expected to be developing this as a side-effect of traveling into a whole new world. Granted, he never thought or even dreamed of being whisked away to a strange magical world, but this was so awesome! The itch less so, but it reminded him of what he was growing. He was integrating into this world at a nice, slow pace - as was what the necklace should’ve been protecting him from - and he couldn’t wait to see what his wings would turn into!

Yet, there was this stupid nagging voice in the back of his mind that claimed to be ‘reason’. This voice unnecessarily pulled his mind back to his own world - the real world, as this ‘reason’ called it. He wasn’t thinking of staying here, was he? Because after all this mess, he’d have to go back home. A pot of water was boiling over in his apartment. Don’t even get this voice started on how Skizz had already died once and that he had been lucky to have made the right friends because without them, there would not have been a second chance. Without them, there would have been death and nothing more. Why would these wings even be any different? For all he knew, he could enjoy them massively for a bit until he figured out what a massive hindrance they were in his day-to-day life as the chosen one. Even then, he wasn’t a chosen one at home. He wasn’t going to be a moth at home. No, he’d return home and lose the wings and, if common tropes were to be believed, possibly his memories of this world. What did it matter what these wings would become? They wouldn’t last, because his time in this world wouldn’t last, either.

Skizz shook his head, in an attempt to shut up that voice in particular because it wasn’t a very nice voice. These were all things that he didn’t want to think about. Why would he even think about that? Why couldn’t he grant himself the joy of thinking about the wings without immediately launching into depressing thoughts of going back home and leaving this colorful world behind?

The jungle. Let’s focus on one thing at a time. The jungle they had to cross to get back to the Lore Kingdom. After that was done, then he could think of the next thing, and the next and the next. He didn’t know what was going to happen, so why bother letting something take up space that shouldn’t be taking up space.

This jungle was rather dense - the road tried its best, but trees and shrubs and roots and all other kinds of foliage grew all over it in an attempt to drown it. Skizz kept a very close eye on his friends, though that wasn’t always as easy. Zedaph, for one, decided to immediately go off of the beaten-and-not-quite-visible-anymore path and Tango, for some reason, decided to lightly follow behind. They already disappeared from sight more often than Skizz would wish and every time he couldn’t find either of them within the next second, anxiety welled up within him.

Relax, Skizz, he told himself. Though Zedaph was eager to move forward and off of the road, he didn’t go that quickly. Tango often looked over his shoulder to make sure that Skizz was still following. He wouldn’t get lost all on his own in this jungle. 

This suffocating, strangely dense and menacing jungle that shouldn’t be half as scary as it already was. The more he looked around, the more he believed that this jungle was gunning for them not to survive or to even find their way out. The path, at this point, must be far to the side, as Zedaph was now just cutting through the jungle without following any kind of straight path. And, looking around at the place, Skizz couldn’t be certain which way they had even come from. And that everything looked so similar.

“Guys, wait up!” Skizz said. “Have we… have we been here before?”

He could have sworn they walked past a specific bush before, which Skizz only recognized because he paid attention to the nice red and yellow flower that looked unlike anything that he had ever seen before. Almost like asset duplication, this one flower and bush now appeared next to a tree in the exact same position as it had done when they walked past a couple of minutes ago.

If it even had been a few minutes. They could’ve been walking for a longer time and Skizz wouldn’t have known.

“Probably,” Tango responded with a disinterested shrug, as though Skizz’s comment didn’t matter. “It’s a moving place, after all.”

Skizz’s jaw dropped. “The jungle moves ?”

“It changes, mostly. The Jungle doesn’t tend to stay one way, anyway.”

Now that was news. Now that would’ve been good to know before they entered these moving trees. Skizz looked around, hoping to catch a tree uproot itself and move somewhere, but that didn’t happen. It did explain the strange feeling he’d gotten within this place. Although, if neither Zed nor Tango had thought it important to mention, then perhaps they thought that in Skizz’s world, the jungles also moved. Or perhaps they assumed that was just a thing that happens, one of those normal things that they wouldn’t dare question outside of the bubble of magic that they were raised in. Of course the jungle moves, why wouldn’t it move – what do you mean, yours doesn’t?

Perhaps that was a conversation for after they left the jungle, because quite frankly, Skizz didn’t feel like discussing this - or even thinking about this - while the trees were within earshot. Who knew what they would do against him if they realized what he was thinking.

“But why does it move?” he still asked.

“I dunno. Because it likes it?”

“We do need to try to find one of the guardians,” Zedaph piped in. He came from behind a tree, checking to see if his friends were still following him. “We’ve come this far, we’ve almost lost the path - I hope - so once we have completely lost it, one of them will hopefully show themselves and give us the chance to get out of this place at the location of our heart’s desire.”

“Come again?” Skizz asked.

Over the course of the next few minutes, Tango explained to Skizz what the deal was with the Jungle - capital J Jungle, because that apparently was warranted for such an ancient location as this. Magic was seeped into every leaf, every bug that crawled around, every square inch of the Jungle. This is the bane of cartographers, for it changes constantly, meaning that its borders shift along with it. The Jungle, without any guidance, was a hungry primeval place with little to survive off of, for you do not survive in the Jungle before it completely gets to you. Instead, the Jungle is home to four guardians, who keep an eye out for travelers who find themselves stuck within. Not so much guardians of the Jungle, they instead are champions of the people  who have adapted and learned to live within the bowels of the Jungle, unable to leave lest dire consequences would befall them. 

And, if they wished to make it to the Lore Kingdom from here, the quickest way would be to lose the path completely - even the notion of where the path could be had to be completely scrambled - before a guardian could show up and show them the way out.

Skizz wondered if some sort of price would be for their help in getting out of here.

They trudged forward, with Skizz uncertain of the price and attempting to forget where the path was. That was not a very good idea, so he just tried to focus on where Zedaph was going and not to think about any paths or roads of the like. Until eventually Tango had to distract him with some conversation topics - turns out that Tango not knowing about American football was a good enough reason for Skizz to go off and to rant to such a degree that he almost even forgot that they were trekking through a jungle.

“Well, well, well!” an unfamiliar voice came from a group of bushes at some point. “Are you a little lost? Do you need some of my help?”

Skizz looked at the bushes, waiting for some sort of creature to jump out of it. However, as time ticked on and a few seconds had passed, he realized that the group of plants was the person who’d spoken. In their full height, the humanoid-shaped plant creature - made up completely of moss and vines and leaves - came to about Skizz’s chest in his full height. Two holes where its eyes would be if it had an actual head were looking at Skizz, Tango and Zed.

“Hi, Bdubs!” Tango said, a bit of a strained smile on his face. So this was one of the guardians, Skizz assumed - though the mischievous glint in his eyes that accompanied it did make him a little nervous.

“Hiya, Tango. Well, what are you waiting for?” the moss creature continued. “Do ya need some help to get to your destination or not?”

“We do need to go to the Fire Plains,” Zedaph said.

“Don’t we need to go to the Lore Kingdom?” Skizz wondered out loud.

“The road goes through the Fire Plains,” Tango responded. “The road begins there again, this Jungle doesn’t border the Lore Kingdom.”

“Yes, your best way to go to where you need to go is to go via me. But first!” The plant dramatically raised a finger.

“Here we go…” Zed said, almost bouncing in anticipation.

“Before you may cross the Jungle, you must first answer my riddles! Answer them correctly, and you shall be given a straight path to the Fire Plains.” Bdubs paused for a moment. “Or perhaps, you know, as straight as a path in the Jungle can be. Which isn’t too straight. But it’ll lead ya to the Fire Plains, that I can guarantee you.”

“I think Skizz should answer these,” Tango suggested.

Zed nodded. “Hard agree.”

Skizz glanced at each of them, confused. “What?” Why should he answer the questions? He wasn’t from around here, he was going to fail them!

“Alright then!” Bdubs clapped his hands together, ready to recite the riddles that Skizz would need to answer.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Skizz exclaimed. “What if I make a mistake? What if I don’t get it, what then?”

“Then you’ll have to find your own way! Or hope another guardian wants to help out,” Bdubs said. “Now… are you ready for your first riddle?”

“No,” Skizz said, but he quickly corrected himself. “I mean, yes! Yes!”

Bdubs cleared his throat - which is amazing if he didn’t have a throat because he consisted mostly of plant matter and stuff. But he cleared something so that he would be able to say his first riddle better, and Skizz listened intently.

“I bare my face yet cannot see - and one may find a man in me. I'll vanish often, though not for long, and only sing my brother's song. What am I?”

Skizz already los the plot after the first line. Once Bdubs was done speaking, he frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bdubs shrugged. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. “I mean, if you don’t know…”

“I do!” Skizz quickly said. “I just… give me some time, dude!”

He hadn’t expected riddles when they entered the Jungle, and now he was stuck doing them. All very good and stuff - very familiar rhyme schemes and things, sounds like they could come straight from his own world - but the question was whether or not it referred to something native to this world or some more general thing that Skizz could feasibly guess correctly? It had to be, otherwise Tango and Zed pushing him forwards as the person to answer the questions was useless.

Speaking of, both guys were standing there also enjoying themselves as they watched their friend struggle with the riddles.

“Do you have any idea what it could be?” Skizz asked them. Both of them nodded and made agreeing noises. So they did know! “What is it, then?”

“Have you tried looking up?” Zed suggested in a playful tone. “At the sky?”

“I can’t, there’s trees in the way,” Skizz said, motioning to the canopy above his head.

“During a particular time of day?” Tango added. The shit-eating grin on his face couldn’t possibly grow wider than it already was. “Not this one?”

“You’re not helping!” Skizz exclaimed, looking up. He didn’t know what he expected, the canopy was indeed in the way! 

“Oh, we’re helping,” Zed said. “You just don’t get it yet.”

Skizz groaned. “Again, extremely helpful, 10/10, now get out of my face and let me think!”

This exasperated reaction made Zed and Tango snicker a little, but they soon allowed silence to return so that Skizz could indeed properly think about it all. What has a face that can’t see? Did it have a mouth? It can sing a song - particularly that of its brother - and it seemed that it was capable on disappearing on people for a little bit, but not for long, so it couldn’t quite hide.

Again, he glanced up - nothing had changed. Perhaps a different time of day. What time of day was it? Day? So did they mean night?

Then it clicked.

“The moon!” Skizz turned to Bdubs as he said it. “The answer is: the moon.”

“Correct!” Bdubs exclaimed, and Skizz took a breath in relief. “Ready for the second one?”

“I was born ready,” Skizz proclaimed, more than ready to receive the second riddle. This first victory had him pumped and increased his confidence for the next one.

“When you don’t have me, you want me,” Bdubs said in that same mysterious tone. “But when you do have me, you don’t know it. What am I?”

Okay that sounded more doable.

“At least it’s shorter,” Skizz said under his breath. This one sounded a little more manageable than the previous one, and he aced that (after some help, but he wasn’t really thinking about that). “So… what wouldn’t you know you have? Someone can’t be that forgetful…”

Correction: yes, someone can be that forgetful. If it’s something that people want when they don’t have it, you’d think they’d know when they finally got their hands on it.

“This one’s simple,” Tango said. “You should get this one easily.”

“Think of the previous answer,” Zedaph volunteered the hint that Skizz hadn’t asked for this time around.

“What’s the moon got to do with this?” Skizz asked, and he pondered about that a little longer. You don’t know that you have what you want, perhaps when the moon was out? But what did that have to do with–

It clicked again.

“Is it…” he began, but then turned to Bdubs. “It’s sleep, right?”

“That’s right!” Bdubs exclaimed and another rush of adrenaline shot through Skizz’s body. This was going so very well! “Now comes the final riddle. If you get this right, you are able to leave the Jungle and go to the Fire Plains. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, baby!”

“What do I have in my pocket?”

For a second, Skizz’s mind blue-screened. “What?”

“You heard me right!” Bdubs said. “What’s in my pocket right now?”

“That’s not a riddle!” Skizz said. “That’s a question! You can’t do that!” Besides, up until this point, Skizz hadn’t really seen any pockets. That was a dirty, dirty trick on the creature’s part, and it didn’t help that Zedaph and Tango still looked as relaxed with those same shit-eating grins on their faces as before. Luckily, these faces weren’t very punchable and Skizz wasn’t that frustrated to begin with, but it was still rather annoying.

“Of course I can do that,” Bdubs argued. “I’m a guardian of the Jungle! My riddles, my rules.”

“But I can’t–”

“It’s a pocket watch,” Tango said.

“Correct!” Bdubs yelled, pointing at Tango as he did so. “Congratulations, folks, you have answered all of my riddles correctly! Now, the Jungle shall give you an easy path to the edge of the Fire Plains!” He pointed in a random direction, which everyone took as the way they needed to go to get to their destination. “It’s gonna take a little while, you know how She can be, but you should be able to get there safely, now.”

“Thanks for the help, Bdubs!” Zedaph said and he waved at the plant creature. “Bye!”

“See ya!” Bdubs shouted back at them as they walked away from him. It was scary to see how easily the man blended back in with the surrounding foliage. Skizz only blinked once and in a few seconds, the plant creature seemed to have disappeared again, melded with the trees. This was, on second thought, rather scary.

If this was one of the guardians of the Jungle, Skizz didn’t want to know what the other ones would look like.

“How’d you know he had a pocket watch?” Skizz wondered out loud. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“He always asks these questions,” Tango revealed.

“What?” If the foliage wasn’t as thick, perhaps Skizz’s voice would’ve carried even further. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Zedaph said with a nod. 

“Then why did I have to answer them?”

“Because it was funny,” Tango admitted.

Skizz decided not to speak to them for a while. Which lasted all of five minutes before he had to call out to his friends to find them again after losing sight of them. Together, they trudged through the Jungle, now on their way out of there to go to the Lore Kingdom via the Fire Plains.

Chapter Text

For as much fun as the Jungle was, Skizz was extremely happy to just get out of the forest and finally see the sky again, breaking between the canopy. The trees were not as packed together, and they could even see the semblance of a path leading out and away. Skizz was the only one who dared question whether or not this would bring them where they needed to go, but he quickly silenced that thought. It was best not to dwell too long about that, and he had no idea whether the Jungle could read thoughts or not, so he’d rather not come off as an ungrateful brat.

When he’d heard that they would have to travel by the Fire Plains, he hadn’t really given it much thought. Specifically because it was ‘not Ice Kingdom’ and that was more than enough for him. However, now exiting the Jungle, he got to have a first, proper glimpse at what people called the Fire Plains.

Well… it certainly lived up to the name.

The Jungle had been hot and humid. The Fire Plains were just hot. Rolling hills as far as the eye could see, all made off of the same red dirt-sand-like underground. Every now and again, deep brown plants dared to try to grow out of this barren landscape. In the distance, he could see one or two lava pools that just bubbled without a care in the world. Upon closer inspection, the ground seemed to be scarred as well, with some holes and pockets within the dirt and sand, where small rocks could easily fit into. But where there should be rocks, there were none at all.

Beyond that, it seemed like Tango, Skizz and Zedaph were the only people in miles.

From right next to him, Tango took a deep breath. “Right. Here we go.”

Skizz frowned. He’d seen Tango when he had been serious before, but that couldn’t even properly describe this. This seemed more… solemn. The fire of his hair and tail burned a little brighter, a little more yellow, too.

“You okay, Tango Top?” Skizz asked him.

Tango responded after a pause that lasted a second too long. He nodded, but he refused to make eye contact with either Zedaph or Skizz.

“Yeah,” he said. “We should go. I don’t want to stay here longer than I need to.”

Before Skizz and Zedaph could answer that question, Tango already started to walk down the road. It was only visible as a road because it was a lighter shade of reddish brown than the others and because of the few footprint trails would guide them in the right direction. They only needed to follow the road and the trail, and they’d end up in the Lore Kingdom eventually.

So, they continued their travels. Tango was walking a little faster than usual. It wasn’t massively faster - it wasn’t like Tango was sprinting or anything - but he was walking at a quick enough pace that Skizz and Zedaph noticed. They tried to keep up as best they could - and they could - but they weren’t used to traveling at this pace and soon, as the sun started to dip behind the western horizon, they asked to make camp.

Skizz found himself constantly glancing over his shoulder. It was just the general mood the place gave him. This massive barren scarred landscape must be hiding something that he’d rather not think about. Like that one big hill, maybe even a mountain, over to the south. It was far enough away that nothing could feasibly come up to them from there - unless it had wings and could traverse large distances in an instant - and yet Skizz worried about the imaginary threat. At the same time, he wondered what had scarred the landscape so that these small pockets of where rocks were supposed to have once been were taken? What kind of rocks were they, even?

Zedaph and Tango weren’t helping. Tango was a little grouchier than he usually was and while in this bad mood, he wasn’t exactly the most talkative person, either. And because Tango wasn’t saying anything, neither was Zedaph. I mean, Zedaph was talking, but the things he was talking about were none of the things that Skizz cared about at the moment. Perhaps he was yapping to fill the silence and to entertain Skizz, but there was no real substance to the conversations he was attempting to have.

You’d also think that, in the Fire Plains, it would be very easy to make a campfire. They could’ve camped closer to one of those lava pools, but Tango refused - it was just too dangerous. You don’t mess with lava. So Skizz was left gathering what little materials he could find to then try to make a campfire out of those materials while his friends made sure everything else was set up right.

And then, for the campfire itself.

Skizz was trying to remember everything that the boy scouts and television had taught him about making a fire. Smashing two sticks together seemed to be a good start. Create friction so that sparks could ignite the rest of the flammable materials that Skizz had gathered. However, that was way easier said than done, and Skizz found himself getting gradually more and more frustrated.

He pushed back against those emotions the first few times. It was going to work out, he just needed a little more time and then it would all work out fine. Except it didn’t. He didn’t want to ask for help, either - he could do it on his own, thank you very much. He’d seen Zed and Tango do it multiple times, why shouldn’t he be able to do it, too? He’d better do it soon, though, because the sun was setting and they needed a fire for food and warmth reasons - though, whilst here, more likely just for food.

The materials refused to make him fire.

“Stupid stuff,” Skizz stammered frustratedly as he threw the materials he’d been holding onto the pile, “why won’t you make a fire!?”

With a dramatic woosh , the pile lit itself on fire. It elicited a scream of shock from Skizz and drew the attention of Zedaph and Tango. Skizz stared at the flames and then looked at the palms of his hands. His mind was filled with just one thought.

No. That’s a lie. He wasn’t thinking anything because any thought evaporated as soon as it appeared. 

“How did you do that? Did you do that?” Tango asked, shaking Skizz’s shoulder. “Skizz, was that you?”

It seemed to help him pull back to reality. Skizz looked up from the palms of his hands to Tango. He’d been grouchy all day, but now shock and despair seemed to be the emotions that dominated him. Weakly, Skizz nodded, and he glanced back at the campfire. A perfect little campfire.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think I did that. Don’t know how, though…”

Tango let go of his shoulder and walked a few paces away. Then, a string of strange noises that only Tango could make came from him and he ran his fingers through the flames on his head, like a nervous tic. “Out of all people, why…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence before he devolved back into whatever panic he seemed to want to quell.

Skizz stood up, ready to comfort him, but decided against it last-second. One, because he seemed to be the source of the panic, and two, because Zed had the exact same idea and he may understand a little better what Tango was going through than Skizz.

“Tango, breathe,” Zedaph said. “It’s okay, calm down. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine, just breathe.” From his seemingly bottomless pockets, he fished a bottle with a clear orange-y liquid.- and held it out for Tango to take. “To calm your nerves?”

“I don’t need your potion!” Tango exclaimed. Zedaph did not retract his hand, though, and Tango eventually took it from him. He didn’t wait a second before pulling the cork off of it and drinking it all in one go. Immediately, Tango took a deep breath and his shoulders lowered a bit. Zed’s concoctions always worked extremely well, even from the first second. Tango had grown calmer, though the worry and despair hadn’t fully left him yet, either.

Watching the scene, Skizz couldn’t help but feel the shame and guilt rise within him. He tucked his hands away in the pockets of his pants. 

“Was that bad?” he asked. “Am I not supposed to be able to do that?”

Magic, as it turned out, affected all sorts of people. This was something the necklace was supposed to ward against, but it became increasingly clear that it was not doing its intended job. First with the wings he was growing, and now with this outburst of fire that clearly had made Tango uncomfortable and worried. Did Skizz have to worry, too? Was he doing something so bad and evil? Was the great evil he was supposed to defeat lurking on that large hill in the distance? He wouldn’t be surprised now.

“No, you’re okay,” Tango immediately said. “It’s just… why did it have to be fire magic, of all things?”

“Because we’re in the fire kingdom?” Skizz suggested, as an attempt at a joke to lighten the mood. It didn’t work.

“No, not that,” Tango said. “I meant, why did you have to develop it? That’s not supposed to happen until way later, when you’ve acclimatized enough. When you don’t need your necklace as much.”

Yeah, that was the conclusion that Skizz had come to as well. What he couldn’t quite figure out was why Tango was so worried about it when Zedaph didn’t really seem to mind and seemed to be preoccupied playing nurse again. Skizz looked at his hands, half-expecting another flame to leap off of it. His gaze was drawn to the fire and then back to Tango, his head flames and tail flames the same hue of yellow as the campfire, and just as wild.

Finally, the dots connected and Skizz gasped loudly. “Oh, you do have fire magic!”

“Yeah, say it louder, why don’t ya?” Tango exclaimed frustratedly. Though the potion had quelled his emotions, these frustrations still shone through. “Make sure that the dragon hears it, too.”

Skizz’s jaw nearly dropped. “There’s a dragon nearby?”

“Over there somewhere.” Tango motioned vaguely in the direction of the large hill, then at the ground. “She hoards redstone. It’s why you won’t find any just lying around anymore.” 

Skizz wasn’t sure whether he should take more offense to Tango being so casual about there being a dragon in the Fire Plains or the way he didn’t want to admit that he did have the magic that Skizz had thought he controlled.

“Dude, when I talked about you having fire magic, right before we went into the ocean, you said no! You could’ve said yes! You do have it, I was right!”

“What if I didn’t want to say yes?” Tango countered that question. “Then what?”

Skizz frowned. That was not what he had expected. “Why not? It’s awesome!”

“It’s dangerous, okay?” Tango sighed as his eyes darted across the Fire Plains. Another emotion crossed his face - a sense of homesickness that Skizz hadn’t picked up on yet. Based on that glace alone, Skizz believed that Tango might have originally come from the Fire Plains, but it was best to leave that can of worms unopened while they were dealing with the first one. That, and Tango hadn’t finished speaking yet.

“Fire magic, especially here, is extremely dangerous. It’s volatile, unpredictable, and tied to the emotional state of the person. Which is why this–” he motioned vaguely at Skizz. “–is not a good thing.”

For just a moment, Skizz wondered what Tango could possibly be talking about. Then he realized he did wear his heart on his torn-off sleeve and his emotions weren’t easily hidden. Or, in Tango’s eyes, controlled.

“I’ll keep an eye on it! I’ll control it, I swear.”

“How?”

“The way that you do,” Skizz simply said. “Clearly you’ve got it under control, so teach me! I’m a fast learner.”

For a moment, Tango looked at Skizz in stunned silence before a single chuckle escaped his lips - the first one since they left the Jungle behind them.

“I am not dropping you in front of a ravager,” Tango said. “It’d be entertaining, but I’m afraid that’ll only make things worse for both of us.”

Now Skizz almost completely had lost the plot. “You were thinking about ravagers?”

“Yeah,” Tango said as though that was the most obvious thing ever. “What were you thinking of?”

“Your cards, dude!” He pointed at the pocket where Tango usually kept his playing cards. Tango’s hands slipped into that pocket and he quickly glanced at it, too. 

“Oh, no, that’s something else entirely,” Tango explained. “No, I learned to suppress my fire around the ravagers. They’re very jumpy creatures and they don’t take well to being set on fire. Specifically, they’ll try to trample you, and that’s not a fun thing to happen. So that’s where and how I learned.”

Well, that certainly was a way to learn how to keep it under control. Not one that Skizz was too keen on, though.

“I’m not coming anywhere near ravagers,” he said

Tango agreed with a nod. “That’s definitely for the best.”

“This probably isn’t going to be the end of the world, as Tango thinks,” Zedaph butted into the conversation. While Tango and Skizz had been talking and it seemed like Tango was going to be okay, Zed had taken it upon himself to start cooking dinner for the evening. “We just need to be a little careful, get ya some training - just a little bit. I can’t keep bringing you back from the back.”

“Don’t say that,” Tango groaned - he’d rather not be reminded of that, and frankly, neither did Skizz.

“But we’ll have to keep an eye on that,” Zed continued as though Tango had not just tried to interrupt him. “We’ll make sure that nothing happens, alright?”

Skizz nodded. That sounded reasonable.

“Okay. I’ll try my very best not to set things on fire by accident.”

“I’m gonna have to live with that, I guess,” Tango muttered.

With that, their conversation came to a natural close and they all focused on helping Zed with his food prep. The sun now had finally dipped its toes behind the horizon, ready to fully sink down. It painted the sky in such pretty lights. This night, however, its shifting colors almost reminded Skizz of a forest fire, beautiful and powerful and dangerous - much like the place they were currently camping in.

The temperature did not decrease - as expected, they remained just hot. Skizz would’ve liked for it to cool down just a little, for the benefit of his own beauty sleep, but he’d just have to deal with that tonight and however many other nights they’d have to spend in these plains.

While eating dinner, Skizz caught something from the corner of his eye. Traveling down the road, only a few feet to the side of it, was a person. At first, he seemed pretty normal - a human man with a blank bandana, traveling steadily down the road. Nothing much to remark. Only five seconds later did it occur to Skizz that just seeing a normal human in these part - such as himself - was not usual at all.

He shifted his gaze to the man again, to double check he hadn’t missed any features this guy had that Skizz had completely looked over. But no - that person seemed to be completely, 100% human.

He put his plate down, got up, and started running down to the person.

“Hey! You!” Skizz called out. Zedaph and Tango, who had already decided to pay the traveler no mind, had to scramble to put their respective plates down and follow after Skizz as he approached the stranger. 

The man looked around, confused, but stopped when he noticed that Skizz was approaching him. As soon as he saw the speed with which Skizz was coming, he calmly placed one hand in his pocket and turned to let the other shoulder stand in the way of Skizz and the contents of his pocket.

Skizz came to a stop, panted a little and then looked at the man with a wide smile. “Hey! I’m Skizz.”

“Hello,” the man said warily - especially now that Zedaph and Tango were approaching, too. “You’re not going to rob me, are you?”

“You’re human!” Skizz exclaimed excitedly.

The man suspiciously narrowed his eyes. “So what if I am?”

“No, I’m just excited to see another human, ‘s all!” Skizz was nearly bouncing up and down - another human! This could be so much fun, at the very least to hear the stories this man could tell. “Where did you come from? United States, too, or are you from somewhere else? I won’t judge.”

Skizz looked at the man expectantly. The man, in return, stared for a second and then sighed briefly. Any tension that had been building inside him melted away. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I grew up here, in the wildlands.” The man paused for a second. “Call me Hypno, if you must.”

Skizz hadn’t thought he’d be that disappointed. He got swept up in the excitement of not being the only human in this world. This Hypno, however, was a local. A very human-looking local, but a local nonetheless. He nodded once, hoping that that would mask the crushing disappointment. Hypno didn’t seem to mind too much, though heh hadn’t stopped being suspicious of the group that had approached him.

“And still you’re…” Zed said, placing his finger on his chin as though trying to figure something out. He was looking at Hypno with a scientifically curious gaze. “Something’s missing, isn’t it?”

“I know. Weird, huh? Magic just didn’t take on me.” Hypno shrugged nonchalantly, but Skizz could read from Zed’s face that it wasn’t just ‘weird’. “So, are you going to keep interrogating me, or can I go? I’m actually on my way to meet up with a friend.”

“Oh, sorry,” Skizz immediately apologized. He didn’t want to hold anyone up. “I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay,” Hypno waved the apologies away. “Have a nice evening, guys.”

“You, too,” Skizz called after him as Hypno started to walk away from the group, at the same pace he’d been walking before Skizz so rudely interrupted his journey. Skizz, Zed, and Tango watched him for a bit and trekked back to their own camping spot.

“Is it possible for magic to… not to take?” Skizz wondered after a while. “If so, what was all this for?” He gestured at the necklace, which had apparently refused to fully commit to what it was supposed to do. And then there was the fact that he clearly had something in his pocket. But what?

“Something’s not right there,” Tango said. He didn’t seem to trust the whole thing. “Everyone in Hermiton is affected by magic. Everyone. He should be, too.”

“We shouldn’t look that deeply into it,” Zedaph added. “Perhaps his magic manifests more mentally and emotionally than physically, such cases do exist. Perhaps he just lost the lottery and is one of those very, very rare cases where it doesn’t manifest in bodily mutations.”

Tango frowned. “And you really believe that?”

“It’s one explanation,” Zed said. “Rather, it’s the only plausible one in my mind.”

Tango seemed to be able to live with that answer. He leaned back again, taking a bite of his food.

“Why would anyone even willingly go to the Fire Plains?” Tango wondered out loud. “There’s literally nothing out here but trouble and explosions.”

Skizz frowned. “Explosions?”

As though he’d dared the universe itself, far away from their current location, something exploded. The silence carried the noise all the way to them and they could see a little cloud rise where the explosion had taken place. It had made Skizz jump and Zedaph look, but Tango hadn’t reacted to it at all.

“Yep,” Tango said in response to Skizz as though he hadn’t just heard one. “Exactly.”

Skizz decided to leave that question for another day. First, time to dig into the food he’d left without any further interruptions.

Chapter Text

The trek through the Fire Plains lasted two full days. They had to camp out one more night, but nothing major happened. At least, not when Zed and Tango were asked. Skizz, on the other hand, always jumped when the random explosions sounded. He’d tried to count them, but he lost count as soon as he was trying to tally them all up when an explosion happened extremely nearby. It didn’t harm them, which was good, but it was close enough and the bang was loud enough that Skizz literally jumped up and nearly fell on his butt. It did elicit a hearty laugh from Tango, who’d been tense throughout their journey of the Fire Plains.

Tango wasn’t having a great time in this place. He was a native from this kingdom, although Skizz shouldn’t call it a kingdom. There was no king, there was not even really a central government, there were just people and tribes and groups of ravagers - not the large bitey creatures, but people - that wanted to grab your gold and go. And a dragon, of course, sitting atop the highest hill where it supposedly was hoarding all of this redstone that Skizz has been hearing about. He hadn’t seen any redstone yet, because even the smallest amounts had been forcefully taken from the ground and then hailed back to the dragon’s hoard.

Thinking about how Tango described it, Skizz was very happy not to have seen it, especially when he was jumpscared by that nearby explosion. Apparently, redstone made explosions worse, so that was the one good thing about the redstone being gone: less volatile explosions.

Yet, eventually, the reddish brown of the Fire Plains slowly shifted back to the dark brown and greens of grass. For the second time in the same week, he was extremely happy to see a tree. For a second, he wondered whether or not this was where the Jungle reached, but no. It wasn’t the jungle, it was just a very nice environment that wasn’t the Fire Plains.

Which just meant that this must be the Lore Kingdom again.

Skizz’s assumption was incredibly correct; wherever the grass grew, was the Lore Kingdom. At least, it was the case at the border of the Fire Plains. These borders appeared to be rather strictly enforced by nature, or perhaps the borders had been drawn based on these clear biomes. Whatever the case was, the grass was the lore Kingdom, and Skizz was very glad to be back in a temperate biome that wasn’t too warm or too cold and where his arms didn’t always feel like they were either on fire or frozen solid.

Zedaph and Tango were glad to be back in the Lore Kingdom as well. Tango’s bad mood improved and Zed was more enthusiastic than before. It was only a day or two of travel before they would reach the capital city and the palace, where the god-king Joel impatiently waited for their arrival. Skizz could easily picture the large figure tapping his foot and wondering where they were. If that person wasn’t a king, Skizz would have suggested waiting a day longer specifically to spite him. 

Also because it would be funny. Especially because it would be funny.

In the afternoon, at the edge of a small group of trees, was a familiar sight. A campfire, a trail of smoke idly floating higher and higher. Three people - two humanoid-looking ones and one harpy woman - sat around the campfire, with a couple of stacked crates behind them. This time, there was a wagon, too, with a massive cage that could easily fit one person. As soon as Skizz saw the cage, he glanced at the scary harpy woman. He was certain that cage belonged to her - not as a place to stay, but as a place to keep people and stuff in. More likely people than actual stuff.

Skizz recognized the merchants instantly, and amazingly enough, these traveling merchants also recognized them. The one difference, he noticed, was that the cat that he had rescued from the cage was now snugly sitting at Scar’s feet.

“Look who’s there!” Scar exclaimed, waving at Skizz. “The chosen one himself!”

“Hello again, Scar,” Tango greeted the wizard merchant.

“Oh, hi Tango! Zed! It’s so so good to see all of you. But…” Scar clasped his hands together, his attention switching back to Skizz as easily as he looked at Skizz’s friends. “Mr. Chosen One, you have done me a great service. You have brought my Jellie home to me. For that, you have my many thanks. Did you receive your gift?”

“I did, yeah!” Skizz nodded. He double-checked to see if he could think his name in his head - he could, he still had his name. “Thanks for that!”

“You also have my deepest gratitude,” said the not-quite-as-familiar voice of the cat that sat at Scar’s feet. It took everything within Skizz not to scream at that again, because that would just be rude.

“You’re welcome,” Skizz said. instead, trying not to let it get to him that he was talking directly to a cat. “Sorry I screamed in your face. I’m not used to cats talking.”

“Then you better get used to it,” Jellie responded with a smile. “I’m not the only familiar who speaks.”

“Oh, far from it!” Scar said. “You should see the rest of her litter, oh, all of those little chatterboxes…”

Instantly, the conversation was derailed as Scar rambled about all of Jellie’s siblings and the differences between them and Jellie. All the while, Jellie listened and corrected Scar whenever he said something that didn’t quite make sense or that was plainly untrue. Skizz barely got a word in edgewise and just had to listen.

He glanced to his side. Zed and Tango were currently engaging with Cub and False, and Skizz managed to catch Tango’s gaze. Nonverbally, Skizz tried to ask for help, to be released from the ramblings of a wizard with a special interest. Tango just shook his head compassionately, though Skizz read that as ‘I’ve had to endure it in the past and now it’s your turn’. 

It was all interesting, though. Skizz quite liked animals, so at least the subject of the ramblings wasn’t anything too strange or bad.

As he glanced at Tango though, Skizz’s gaze shifted from his friend to the silently watching harpy. This time, she wasn’t sharpening her blade, since it was already quite sharp. Instead, she silently seemed to observe the place, keeping an eye on him. Skizz figured he gained a bit of a reputation as the chosen one and that might interest him, but the way she looked at him made a shiver run down his spine.

Better not keep up that eye contact, then.

When Skizz was able to get in something edgewise, he talked about all of his exploits as the chosen one in as much detail as he could remember with only minimal deviations from the main story he was telling. He detailed his adventure under water, how that drowned woman wanted to kill him, how Grian the fisherman yeeted them all the way to the Ice Kingdom, which he did not like, and how they then had to pass through the Jungle and Fire Plains to finally set foot in the Lore Kingdom again. Grian helped, that’s for true, but his help also put them into danger.

Skizz did conveniently leave out that he died. He didn’t want to think about it, anyway, and it was not an important part of the story. Instead, Scar was to believe that Skizz was merely grievously wounded, but not dead. Either Scar believed it, or he was only quietly disagreeing to allow Skizz to believe the lie he told.

In the meantime, Zed and Tango finished their conversations with Cub and False. They were ready to say their goodbyes as easily as they said their hellos. They did not need anything from the merchants currently - any supplies that Zed specifically needed for his experiments were all bought beforehand. So, with the most cordial of greetings, the party left the merchants to their own and continued their way to the palace to finally hand in the quest and save Joel from his cursed impatience.

They didn't travel too far - the sun was already setting and though the Lore Palace was nearby, they were certain that Joel should wait one more night while Skizz, Zed and Tango took a little break and breather. This was their first night back in the Lore Kingdom, after all: the first real night in friendly territories that were relatively safe. The roads and surrounding bushes knew no bandits and crime was swiftly and quickly punished. Unlike the Fire Plains, the Jungle, or even the Ice Kingdom, they wouldn't need to have any guard shifts tonight.

Perhaps the proximity to the palace had made them complacent.

In his sleep, a stupid mosquito stung Skizz. Half-asleep, he raised his hand and slapped where he'd felt the prick. He didn't catch the bug, though. Instead, his hand slapped onto his own skin and a small, cold surface that had embedded itself into Skizz's neck.

Skizz frowned. That was weird.

He sat upright in his bedroll. Immediately, his gaze found his friends. They were sound asleep in bedrolls of their own, finally able to rest without concern. He sighed in relief - for some reason, he'd thought that something bad had happened that he had to remedy. He turned his head away from them.

He stared right into two piercing blue eyes that coldly looked at him.

A shriek failed to break from Skizz's mouth. He'd moved his mouth, he could feel his vocal chords quiver, and yet not a peep came out of his mouth. Only after a second, he realized that his ability to speak had been taken from him. His hands automatically found the smooth cold surface - no bigger than a pin prick or so. Was that preventing him from speaking? Did that prevent him from making any noise whatsoever?

He looked at the creature in front of him, and instantly recognized her. Her blonde hair, those cold blue eyes that betrayed no emotion, the sharpened blade and, of course, the razor-sharp talons and strong wings. The harpy of the merchants, False, was looking at him intensely, as though she had designated him as her prey. That cold shiver from before seemed to have been warranted.

He turned around again, looking in the direction of where Zed and Tango were safely off to dreamland. He shouted to get their attention, and yet he made no sound. No vocal sounds, anyway. He could hear the rustling of his bedroll as he moved around. He could hear the footsteps behind him as False changed something up in her stance.

The ropes of a net wrapped themselves around him, restricting his movement to the point that he couldn’t really move or even keep himself upright. Struggling against these ropes, he was dragged away from the campsite. He screamed as loudly as he could, tried to get even the littlest of sounds to get out of his mouth and to reach his friends, but to no avail. His voice remained silenced, and he remained helpless against being kidnapped.

He wanted to say so much to the woman who was doing this to him. How could you, I thought you were my friend, let me out of here, the king won’t like this. All the while, he could feel his vocal chords push back against the magic that was preventing them from making any sound. He was pulled on top of a cart, into the cage that he’d seen when they were actually at the merchant’s.

Skizz hadn’t seen a donkey. Or a horse, or any other animal that could pull the cart. Turns out, it didn’t need it, because the cart was driving itself around the same way some of those self-driving cars were doing back in Skizz’s world. Except in this world, they seemed to be able to be slightly sentient as well, giving them just that bit of an edge over what Skizz had heard modern technology had been able to achieve. 

If only he could enjoy it, because right now, it was being used to drive him away from his friends.

It was racing at a considerable speed, too. To such a degree even that they reached the merchants’ camp quicker than Skizz had believed they would. Perhaps because he lost a lot of time just trying to get False to listen to him and free him from this silence. Cub and Scar both looked up when False rolled in; Skizz could only see their silhouettes beyond the campfire while the cart was still pulling up to the position that he remembered it standing in.

“Woah, False, what are you dragging in?” Cub asked, standing up and glancing curiously.

“Newest bounty,” she responded. She’d already hopped off of the cart before it had come to a complete standstill. Then, as though he was some sort of circus animal, Scar also wandered over with the biggest smile on his face.

“Oh, fun!” He did not seem to mind False’s pastime activities either. He did raise an eyebrow when he noticed who was trapped in the cage. “Is that Skizz?”

“It is,” False responded. The silence lasted a second too long, but she filled it. “It’s not a contract from the Evil Empire.”

“Oh, so someone else wants the chosen one. Wonderful.”

No. Not wonderful. Not wonderful at all. Skizz already couldn’t figure out what the heck was going on here, but some questions were answered and a lot of new ones were raised. What’s the Evil Empire, and why would they want him? And why didn’t they give her this contract? Had she taken contracts for the Evil Empire before? Who would want to have him at this point? Could it be the guy that had killed him? No, it couldn’t be. That man was way out of their way and Skizz didn’t see him working together with a woman who also regularly worked with the guy he looked exactly alike. 

And why were Cub and Scar so casual about this kidnapping?

“Are we still leaving before dawn?” False asked.

“That’s the plan,” Cub said with a shrug. Within the light, the blue rash that he’d been suffering from seemed to shine ever more brilliant. And was that looking alive? Like, it seemed as though the colors shifted and faded, as though they were alive. It was a little freaky, to be honest, but not enough to distract him too much about his personal situation.

“Great,” False said. “We need to go past the shore.”

“For the one who put the bounty on his head?” Cub wondered and False nodded. “Then we’ll go past the shore.”

With that, the conversation ended. Skizz shouted again, moved wildly, tried everything in his power to get their attention. Yet, Cub and False ignored him, and the same could be said for Scar. Skizz did notice the jovial merchant glancing at the cage he was trapped in every once in a while. It was enough for him to try to get Scar’s attention, to ask for Scar to get him out while he still furiously tried to get the thing out of his skin that kept him from speaking and shouting and getting their attention.

At some point, the cat came up to Scar. Jellie walked closer, beckoned him to lower his head. Scar did as Jellie asked, and she talked about something that Skizz could not hear because of the distance. He wished to know what they were talking about, because that would be one way of passing the time in these horrendous circumstances. Scar nodded and then went about whatever his business was this late.

Apparently, it was going to bed, because False was getting ready to sleep, and Cub returned to the sleeping bag that he’d rolled out before the cart had rolled in. Scar also was getting ready for bed, but he was taking a ridiculously long time. So long that Cub and False were already fast asleep - and Skizz nearly again as well - and Scar was still only getting ready to crawl into his sleeping bag.

Scar didn’t crawl into his sleeping bag, though. Instead, he walked over to the cage where Skizz had long since given up trying to get anyone’s attention. Skizz had been sitting and leaning against the iron bars in the most comfortable position - the position that didn’t make his back ache like crazy - and lifted his head when Scar approached.

“Hello there, Skizz,” Scar whispered in such a low voice that Skizz not only had to lean in, but crawl closer to hear him. “Heads or tails?”

Skizz frowned. First of all, what? Second of all, how could he answer the question if he couldn’t speak? Skizz shrugged and swung his hands-semi wildly to make sure that Scar understood that he wouldn’t get a verbal response to this.

“Okay, that won’t work,” Scar said, realizing his mistake. “Nod for heads, shake for tails.”

Still Skizz couldn’t really understand what the reason was for all of this. Though he was quite confused, Skizz decided to nod.

Scars smile widened, almost unnaturally so, and he took a coin from… somewhere, likely his pocket, Skizz didn’t see it. But Scar tossed the coin and caught it again in his hand a few seconds later, peeking at it mysteriously before he was willing to show the result.

“Heads!” Indeed, the heads side of the coin was pointed upward. “Amazing choice, my friend.”

Scar reached into another pocket and pulled a key out of there. Better yet, it was the key for the cage, because Scar put it into the lock and then unlocked it. He carefully swung the door open, stopping it an inch or so from where it would creak. 

Skizz looked at it suspiciously, then glanced at False. She was asleep, as was Cub. If Skizz wanted, he could get out and return to his friends. He then looked at Scar again, wondering whether or not there would be some point to it. Would Scar wake up his friends for a hunt? Would there be a payment in some weird thing that Skizz wouldn’t know about until he realized he was missing a skill or a memory or something?

It didn’t seem to be the case. Scar just waited for Skizz to get out of the cage, it seemed like. From the darkness in the medium-distance, Jellie was also watching the scene.

Skizz got out of the cage. He tried to be as quiet as possible - because even though he couldn’t speak, everything else he did was still possibly loud.

“Good luck getting back to your friends,” Scar said, pointing Skizz in the direction of where Skizz and his friends had originally gone. 

Skizz glanced in the direction, then looked at Scar, and then ran away from the campsite. His footsteps were dampened by the grass and his panting masked by the thing that False had shot at him that silenced him. He only dared to glance back once - the campfire was still burning. Those who had been asleep were still asleep now, and Skizz was home free.

Now to run back to where Tango and Zed were so they could fix him being mute.

This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

Skizz had never thought that he would be grateful to see the Lore Palace come back into view. Its majesty, sitting on the hill in the distance, was just as impressive as the strange architecture that he still could not quite place. He did sigh in relief when he saw it.

An audible sigh of relief. Skizz had woken up his friend in a frenzy, motioning at his neck and hoping that they would understand what had happened. He could still feel that cold metal against his skin and wanted it gone. Fortunately, Tango was quick to assume someone had silenced him and he and Zed looked at the thing that False had shot into his neck. Zedaph commented on the craftsmanship, declaring that this nifty little invention not only had the ability to silence someone, but that the person it was used against could not remove it themselves. While Zedaph explained this magic, Tango carefully took the thing and pulled it out of Skizz’s neck, directing Skizz to press his hand against the small wound to stop the bleeding. The first thing Skizz did when he realized he could speak again, was to thank his friends profusely and then demand that they leave to put as much distance between themselves and the merchants.

At this point in time, Skizz didn't know what had gotten into False, or who would want him. Honestly, at this point in time, it also did not matter at all. They were back at the Lore Palace, after all, and nothing bad would happen to them.

Skizz glanced around as though something would grab him at the last second. Fortunately, that was not the case, and he and his friends walked into friendly territory. The people who lived in the city at the foot of the Lore Palace greeted them cordially, and some even bowed their heads to Skizz. It appeared these people had accepted him as his chosen one.

So which one of these wanted him to drown?

No, these people had nothing to do with that. Skizz had to tell himself that none of these people had paid False to bring him to the shore. Someone else was responsible for that part, and Skizz hated not knowing who it was.

For a second, Skizz had forgotten what it looked and felt like to traverse the Lore Palace. Specifically, the notion that you only needed to go to the next door and open it to reach the specific room you wanted to reach was what tripped him up. So Tango, Skizz and Zed walked into the throne room through what appeared to be a side door, and they turned to face the god-king.

As though he had never left or lifted his butt out of the chair, Joel still lounged on his throne. He leaned back heavily, his hand under his cheek, seemingly waiting for something exciting to occur. They had caught his attention by merely walking into the room and he perked up when he recognized that the chosen one had finally returned.

"Ah, there you are, Skizz," Joel said. He paused for a second, then continued. "The fact that I can say your name means that you've regained it! Or is this a new name for you?"

"It is my name!" Skizz exclaimed. "My actual name."

How dare the god-king suggest that this name was a replacement. It was his name. A nickname a buddy gave him, yes, but one that had become so ingrained into him that the only place he didn't use it was in government documents. Yet, the Lore Kingdom and everyone in it - when he'd first arrived - used it as though it was his first name. He was certain he would know and remember what name he had when he came.

And yet, for a second, doubt set in. A certain doubt that he expelled almost immediately. Skizz was his name, and he wasn't given a weird replacement one. Why would he even think that would be the case?

Because the god-king was being a little weird, that's why.

Perhaps it was more confusing to see him throw up his hands somewhat defensively. "Geez!" he said, "no need to be so defensive about it. I just asked you a question."

He lowered his hands again, looking at the group that stood in front of him. Skizz instinctively straightened his back a bit and lifted his head, as a sign of respect. Besides him, Zed and Tango did not follow his example and just stood there, waiting for Joel to continue to speak and potentially getting ready to speak as well, if they needed to do so.

"Now, to the more important matter," Joel said and he extended a massive hand towards Skizz. "You have my ring, right?"

Skizz nodded once. With everything that had happened since he had acquired the ring, he had almost forgotten that he was carrying it throughout all of his misadventures. Fortunately, neither Zed nor Tango would make him forget that he had it in his pocket. So Skizz merely had to put his hand in his pocket, take the ring, and present it to Joel. The god-king's eyes widened as Skizz tossed it over to him. Joel expertly caught the ring, only a small trinket in his hand, and stared at it the same way Sméagol would. He closed his hand and looked back at Skizz and his friends.

"This is amazing," Joel said. "Thank you so much, Skizz, for retrieving this artifact of great value."

Skizz nodded. For all the grandeur that Joel put into his voice, he had no idea what was going on. He had no idea the trials and tribulations Skizz had had to go through for the ring. He ought to get more than a thank you. Way more.

"Thanks," Skizz said, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Just had to die for it, 's all."

"Oh, don't whine about that," Joel said dismissively, with a look of annoyance on his face. "Clearly it didn't take."

Excuse me?

Skizz nearly said it out loud, but his respect for the monarch of a foreign country outweighed the overwhelming urge to speak up. He had expected a little sympathy, at the very least, for the circumstances that he had found himself in. However, the reminder that he had died had only conjured annoyance about the 'whining'. This implied a few things: one, he may be familiar with what Zedaph was capable of with his internship position. Two, he didn't seem to be too bothered by Skizz being alive again after claiming that he'd passed away once. Three, he didn't care for the fact that Skizz died, either just because he passed away, or because he had come back. Whatever the case, it wasn't a good look on the god-king.

The closest Skizz came to violence was balling his fists and biting his tongue.

"And?" Tango asked, which Skizz was extremely grateful for.

Joel glanced weirdly at them. "And what?"

Tango glared at him, Zed observed the situation, and Skizz tried not to simmer too much. Fortunately, Joel caught on to what he had promised he would do.

"Oh, right." He cleared his throat and spoke loudly and with a strange clarity that seemed to befit a newscaster. "Henceforth, let it be known that the chosen one has the unwavering support of the Lore Kingdom in his fight against the great evil he is prophesied to fight."

It... kind of felt like a letdown. Perhaps Skizz had expected something that had a little more fanfare. Perhaps an actual fanfare, with trumpets and drums and all the other folks that participated in a fanfare normally. Perhaps Joel could have also been a little more impressive, like handing over some sort of scroll or signing a decree in the presence of all of his Watchers. Then again, he was the new person - this may be the most impressive thing that Joel could have done in this moment.

Judging by the way Zed and Tango seemed unimpressed, that may not be the case.

"Awesome," Skizz responded with a sarcastic tone. "Thank you for your gracious support."

"You'll need to give me some time to have it written down somewhere," Joel said, motioning to a place on his right. Two people in the all-covering purple cloaks of the Watchers were looking down at pieces of paper and furiously scribbling with a quill. "But very soon, it will be anchored in our archives. You, as the chosen one, have our support."

"Does that usually take long?" Skizz wondered out loud, glancing at the Watchers. Were they describing what was being said in real-time? If so, that was a rather impressive skill. He wouldn't want to add too many other new words that these poor Watchers would need to write down.

"No, I'm certain it'll be done by the end of the day. Now--" Joel clapped his hands twice. "You are dismissed. I would assume you'd come to me after you've made a plan for your next step?"

"Of course," Skizz said. He wouldn't want to, but this was still the god-king. Though he was quite certain that Joel could not revoke the support of the Lore Kingdom, Skizz didn't want to be on his bad side, either.

"Wonderful," Joel said. "You can go now."

With the second hint that they were no longer welcome in the throne room, Skizz and Zed and Tango left. They went back the way they originally came in and Skizz took a breath of relief, placing his hands in his hips. That meeting could have gone better altogether, and Zed and Tango likely had also expected the conversation to have gone differently.

They stayed in the hallway. At least, for a little bit. They didn't really have any idea where to go, and none of them made any moves to invite the others over to their place. So, as a compromise, Skizz invited them to his bedroom for the following meeting. Not that they'd meet people randomly in this hallway, anyway - everyone walked through their own deserted hallway if they wanted to go from one place to the other. At least, Skizz was pretty sure that was how that worked. In any case, he invited them over to his bedroom and let them in.

It had been a while since he'd been here. It hadn't changed at all. Well, perhaps the bed had been made, but otherwise, nothing else had changed too much. The War of the Watchers still lay on the bedside table, nearly a mockery of the world he'd left behind, where places like these would be relegated to the realm of fiction.

He shouldn't be thinking about that. Instead, he should be thinking about one of those last things that Joel had told them.

"So..." Skizz began. "Joel's really not gonna help us make a plan?"

"Nope," Tango said, shaking his head once. Skizz had figured that they would at least get that opportunity, but apparently not.

"I wasn't really expecting it, anyway," Zed chimed in. "But hey, we completed the quest! We have the support of the Lore Kingdom now!"

Tango nodded as though it made complete and total sense. To Skizz, however, all of that sounded rather vague.

"What does that support even entail?" he asked his buddies. "I've got no clue, dude. Does that mean I get to command an army now, or something different?"

"Something different," Tango responded. "I mean, the Lore Kingdom does have soldiers, but I doubt Joel's gonna wanna use them or send them in before he knows this is a fight already won. No, we have something better than soldiers. We have the power of stories."

After spending a significant amount of time in this world, you'd think that Skizz would kind of start wrapping his head around the logic in the world and to pick up on certain details that would help him decipher these riddles. Except, no, that wasn't what was happening, and Skizz was just as clueless as he had been when he'd asked his question. So, yeah, the power of stories eluded him for a second.

"And how exactly are stories gonna help us?" he asked.

"Stories are what makes this kingdom work in the first place!" Zed said with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. "Stories are extremely powerful, and the lore that is interwoven in it is extremely potent. You do realize Joel's only this tall because he spread the rumor that he's tall, right? Over time, he grew to the size that people referred to him as in those rumors. He grew tall because the people started to believe he's tall and, well, now it's fact."

In all honesty, if Zed hadn't given the example of Joel, Skizz likely wouldn't have gotten it. Now, he kind of understood what they meant when they said that stories had power. It was some sort of saying in his own world, too, but he hadn't thought it would be made literal in this world.

Skizz frowned either way, because even with the example, that was just crazy. "That's a thing that can happen?"

"Among other things, yeah," Zed said. "So as long as the people of the Lore Kingdom believe in us and our capabilities, we have a major advantage!"

Skizz didn't quite share Zed's enthusiasm yet, and neither did Tango.

"We would, if it weren't for the fact that they also believe the Evil Empire is very intimidating and powerful," Tango said. "Even if Joel manages to bolster our image, we are going to be fighting people who will be intimidating because these people here believe that they are."

Skizz was about to open his mouth and add something to that, but he quickly closed it when the conversation took a turn he wasn't expecting. He frowned, looking at Tango and then at Zed and back at Tango. It wasn't so much that they spoke with one another, but a detail that had caught his attention and now stubbornly refused to not let go.

Why was this literally the first time that he heard about the 'evil empire'?

Fortunately, one of his friends noticed rather quickly.

"Is something wrong?" Zed asked. "Or do you have a question? You're looking at us like it's on the tip of your tongue."

"Evil Empire," Skizz said dryly, regularly glancing at Tango as well. He wouldn't want to leave either of them out of this conversation.

Zed nodded. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Would you say that great evil would be coming from there?" Skizz asked.

Zed nodded. "Oh, most likely."

"Awesome, that," Skizz responded, nearly throwing his hands in the air. "That would've been good to know, like, yesterday. Or perhaps even the day that I arrived."

Tango and Zed exchanged a glance with one another, one that didn't really say much to Skizz. It was a concerning glance, and Skizz supposed that neither of them had any idea why Skizz had just said what he'd said.

"Didn't one of the Watchers give you a history lesson?" Tango asked out loud. "I've heard that you were given a tour, at least."

"They did. They said so much, I'm not even sure that they mentioned the Evil Empire." He paused for a second. "Maybe they did mention it. But they literally said everything about every empire and kingdom ever, I can't remember all of that after a boring one-hour history lesson!"

Skizz thought back to the tour. However, whenever he thought of Watcher Crann and the stories he told, all he could really remember was the moment where the Watcher cursed him. How his sleeves deserted him not even that much later. Every time he tried to recall some of the extremely important information that Watcher Crann had attempted to pass on to him, he failed in every regard. Turns out that giving a tour of the Lore Palace did not go hand in hand with attempting to teach him something new about an environment he knew nothing about.

"That's okay," Tango said. "They're Watchers, they were probably yapping way too much. But yeah, you're gonna have to go up against the Evil Empire."

"They weren't always known as the Evil Empire, though," Zed said. "Previously, we knew it as the Demon Empire."

And that made a difference, how?

"Because demons aren't evil?" Skizz tried to guess, hoping that he was correct in this assumption. Even if he would normally not associate demons with anything good.

"Exactly!" Zed exclaimed. "They were taken over by something evil that basically renamed the empire after themselves."

Skizz raised an eyebrow. He'd never thought that this would be the reason for the name change. "Really?"

"Really. We don't know about that day. All we know is that one day someone called Evil X appeared out of nowhere and took over the whole thing in a day or two. The borders were shut and all communication stopped. Anyone that Joel sent over there to check it out in the beginning didn't come back, so we stopped sending people. We don't really know what's happening over there anymore."

Skizz nodded, tried to listen to the story that Zedaph was trying to tell him. However, once again, his mind was hung up on the one detail that stopped his thoughts and couldn't let go until it was resolved.

"The leader I'm supposed to defeat... calls themselves Evil X."

If he hadn't been in this world for such a long time already, he would have believed that this was a joke. There was no way that the great evil he needed to defeat was a person who didn't even have a proper name. They just are 'evil X', with 'evil' in the name! That just screamed storybook villain. Then again, this whole journey so far kind of screamed storybook story and he was the beaten down protagonist whom the author liked to punch down only to then allow them to rise up again. Now, was he thinking that because it was what he truly was feeling or because the Lore Kingdom and the talk about stories from earlier was getting to him?

"Indeed," Tango said with a nod, as though he sympathized with what Skizz was going through. "I think we might have already come across one of their henchmen."

He didn't need to say who it was, because Skizz knew exactly who this person was. It was who had killed him that one time, commanding him to do things, and his body obliged.

"I can see them being associated with evil, yeah," Skizz said, rubbing his side where the Netherite sword had pierced through him. "So... how do I do this? How do I defeat this Evil X if we know next to nothing about them?"

"I am certain that the information will find its way towards us at some point," Zed said. "Especially when Joel urges the people to believe in us. With their belief, some of that knowledge may just be dropped right into our laps."

Skizz opened his mouth for a second, then sighed. "I still can't believe that's how this kingdom functions..."

He composed himself, clasped his hands together, and looked at his friends. "Okay, if I remember correctly, I'm supposed to gather support from other places that aren't the Lore Kingdom. Right, top?"

For a second, Tango looked confused. It wasn't the first time that Skizz had used the nickname, but this apparently was the first time that he picked up on it without being grumpy because he was at the Fire Plains when Skizz had previously used the nickname. Once he got over the initial shock of hearing the nickname without his actual name being placed in front of it, Tango nodded.

"Yep," he said, "it is best for us to unite as much of Hermiton against this threat."

"Okay, great," Skizz said. That sounded great, to unite Hermiton. If only he could remember the big places other than the Jungle, the Fire Plains and the Ice Kingdom, that isn't the Lore Kingdom either because they've already secured the support of this kingdom. "Where can we go, then?"

"We could go to the Undead Republic, to the north," Tango said. "They've got a lot of numbers and the Evil Empire is also perpetually shaded by ominous-looking clouds, so we could ask them for their help. The Ice Kingdom could help with some anti-magic stuff as well. Can't really think of what anyone else could help us with right now..."

"Do we have to go back to the Ice Kingdom?" Skizz wondered. "Because I really don't want to go back there."

For multiple reasons, all of which should be fairly obvious to Tango and Zed. The least of these reasons was actually the cold. Fortunately, Zed and Tango were quite understanding of this.

"Not right away--" Tango said, but Skizz instantly interrupted him once he got his answer.

"Then I say we go to the Undead Republic," Skizz decided for the group. "Sorry, guys, but I'm not going through the Fire Plains or the Jungle just to go to the Ice Kingdom. Undead Republic sounds cool."

Especially because this seems to be the only place that indicated that it wasn't ruled by a vicious ruler. Republic kind of made it sound like they were ruled justly by some sort of council. In either case, the place should be fun. Full of undead. If Tango could talk about it casually, these undead people must be nice. Or, at the very least, not threatening in the slightest. Plus, it was 'not the Ice Kingdom', so that was all good.

"But first, let's take the evening to ourselves," Zedaph said, throwing his arms around the shoulders of his friends. "Let's celebrate! We've completed the first quest, now we've got some time to unwind before we leave again."

Skizz had never been happier to throw a small party than right that moment.

Chapter Text

Even with a party at such a short notice, it was a great success. Zed, as a skilled alchemist, knew exactly where to get some of the best-tasting drinks that they’ve ever had in their lives. Skizz and Tango watched Zed mix all sorts of drinks with all sorts of ingredients. Skizz only knew about half of the ingredients, but it all tasted extremely good. He never truly could place the different aromas, but it all tasted better than the one that came before.

While Zed was distracted talking to Tango, Skizz noticed that the alchemist had left his stuff to the side, and some of the more exotic fruits were left. The weird urge to create something overtook him, and Skizz walked over to the mixing stations. For one second, he wondered how the heck he was going to be able to do this. Yet, he pushed his panic aside and let his gut instincts take it from there.

Only when he was almost done mixing the pieces of the fruits did Zed notice something was happening with his materials.

“Skizz?” Zed asked. “What have you been doing with my stuff?”

Now finished, Skizz poured his mixture into three glasses - he’d made enough for three servings - and handed one to Zed. “Making you a smoothie.”

Zed’s face lit up, pleasantly surprised. “Why, thank you!”

Whatever Skizz had cooked up wasn’t nearly as good as what Zed had been mixing together all evening, but it wasn’t terrible either. A pleasant taste that all three of them enjoyed. Even so, Skizz couldn’t help but compare what he’d made with everything that Zed had made.

“Your mixtures are awesome, dude,” Skizz said. He briefly lifted his glass to make his next point. “Wish I had your type of magic, this smoothie could’ve used it.”

“Oh, my magic’s not mixing drinks,” Zed responded.

If Skizz wasn’t holding on to his glass and didn’t want to make a mess, he would’ve dropped it. “It isn’t?”

He could have sworn that Zed was an alchemist because that was his particular brand of magic. He looked back at their adventures together so far, and he could not think of any other time that Zed used something that Skizz could classify as magic. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the internship would be the type of magic, but it couldn’t be.

“No,” Zed said so casually, using a tone that suggested that this should be something that Skizz should have already ascertained after working together for a while now. “Being an alchemist is just my day job, but it’s not the magic that I grew up with.”

“Well, what’s your magic, then?”

A smile appeared on Zed’s lips, a mischievous smile of someone excited to show off. He put the glass on one of the shelves, then pointed his opened hand at it. For a second, nothing happened. Then, the glass started to shift and change. Within a matter of seconds, a straight round glass became distorted, with a square at the top and all sorts of strange bends and angles at the bottom. Zed closed his hand, and the glass remained in the same position that he’d forced it in.

“Reality distortion,” Zed said proudly with a self-affirming nod. “I don’t really use it all that much, especially as an alchemist. Well, perhaps a little at the internship, but beyond that, I don’t really use it much.”

“So, how did you actually become affiliated with Death?” Skizz wondered. Now that Zed had mentioned the internship, it became the perfect opportunity to ask about now that their lives or the quest wasn’t on the line. 

“Oh, that’s a fun story,” Zed said with a cheerful grin. “One day, Death appeared in my lab.”

“So, actual Death–”

“Yep. Black robes and scythe and all,” Zed nodded. “Yeah, I’d just discovered the key to immortality.”

Skizz’s mouth almost fell open. “Really!?”

“Yeah!”

“How?”

“Haven’t a clue,” Zed said with a shake of his head. “I was busy with a lot of things that day and before I knew it, Death was knocking at my door.”

“Did you die?”

“No, but we had a great conversation about how I did what nobody ever was supposed to be able to do.” The way Zed spoke about what had happened gave the impression that he seemed to be rather proud that he managed to do the impossible. He was indeed beaming and almost unconsciously puffed out his chest.

“He’s still trying to figure out how I did it,” Zed continued. “In the meantime, I get to be his apprentice. It’s been pretty fun so far, quite enlightening, too.”

“Yeah,” Skizz nodded, having no idea what the tasks of an apprentice particularly entailed. He was just glad that Death didn’t smite Zed where he stood - mostly because it meant that Skizz still lived.

“I’ve already done and seen so much,” Zed agreed with Skizz and, as a result, with what he’d just said. He glanced at Tango. “In fact, Tango and I actually met through my apprenticeship.”

Skizz gasped loudly and whipped his head at Tango, who’d just been listening to Zed telling his tale. “Did you die?”

Tango sputtered for a second, trying to find a way to come up with a way to make it either sound better or more elegant. After that second, he gave up the fight and sighed. 

“Look, I’m not proud of it.” 

“You don’t have to be proud of it, death is a natural part of life,” Zed commented. “Funnily enough, we were actually in the Ice Kingdom when that happened.”

“I’m pretty sure it was the border of the Ice Kingdom,” Tango argued.

“You were way too cold for a person at the point that I found you, I’m certain we were a little deeper into the kingdom than that.”

At that point, Skizz made an assumption that he was pretty certain that he was right. He looked at Tango with wide eyes, completely in disbelief.

“You froze to death?”

Tango sighed again, confirming Skizz’s assumption. “Skizz–”

“You’ve got fire magic and you froze to death?” Skizz raised his voice in disbelief, but already resolved that he would return to his normal volume in a second.

“You know how I feel about fire magic,” Tango said, leaving it at that.

“Did you have to do ridiculous things, too?” Skizz wondered, pointing at Zed. Skizz’s only point of reference was what Zed had made him do. One, to give Skizz the opportunity to make a smoothie, and two, to do all sorts of weird and little ridiculous things that satisfied the whimsical mind of Zedaph.

“Nah,” Zedaph interjected. “He paid me something real good.”

From the pocket of his jacket, he pulled a playing card. Except, upon closer inspection - and because Zed allowed it to be more closely inspected - it was not a playing card like the six of spades. A special card, displaying the silhouette of a person with a text written in clear handwriting: swagger .

“That’s my best card,” Tango said. “It’s one that gives good luck.”

“And it’s been really helpful since then,” Zed said, putting the card away again. “So, once again, thank you very much for the card.”

“Thank you for not letting me freeze to death,” Tango responded, genuinely grateful to still be alive. 

“What about those cards, anyway?” Skizz wondered. “What are they, if they’re not part of your magic–”

“I guess you could call them magic items,” Tango explained. His hand went into a pocket, which Skizz assumed was the pocket where Tango kept his deck. “Those are items that are specifically infused with magic by a person. It’s a hobby of mine.”

Tango pulled out the deck, showing a multitude of cards. Each of which had to have been infused with magic. Skizz’s jaw almost dropped again.

“You call that a hobby?”

“Of course!” Tango said. “I’ve been developing this deck on my own. I’ve been putting some interesting things in there.” 

He pulled out a couple of examples and held them out for Skizz to see. For each of the cards he showed, he explained how they worked. The first one, sneak , allowed for people to walk around a little more sneakily and silently. Another, eerie silence , cast a bubble of silence around yourself, allowing nobody outside of the bubble to hear what was being said inside. The final one that Tango showed, named reckless charge , allowed for a person to run at a slightly faster speed and, if they hit something as they charged, the damage would be significantly bigger. With each of the cards, Skizz looked with awe and listened interestedly.

“Some of these cards are a little older and have a little less magic in them than the more recent ones,” Tango ended the explanation, putting the cards back in the deck and the deck back in his pocket. “But they’re all quite powerful, especially the newer ones.”

“That is awesome, dude!” Skizz exclaimed.

“Thank you!” Tango said, nodding with pride. This was definitely something to be proud of, and Skizz’s respect for his friends grew with every passing second.

“And what about you?” Zed then asked, looking directly 

Skizz pointed at himself, confused. “Me?”

“Yeah!” Tango said, agreeing with the alchemist. “Tell us a bit about your world! What’s it like over there?”

“Alright,” Skizz said with a deep sigh, “if you really want to know…”

He didn’t think he’d have a lot to say about his world. In fact, once he got going, he really got going. By the end of the evening, Tango and Zed would likely be able to draw out Skizz’s apartment in excruciating detail. At the same time, They may also be able to name all of Skizz’s colleagues by name, by nickname, and by the defining character trait and tale that Skizz had shared. He didn’t say too much about the world itself, but more so about his world and his direct environment. Even if it wasn’t exactly what Zed or Tango had asked for, they listened with interest and asked questions.

A pang of sorrow hit his chest. Skizz may not have liked his job, but everything else was pretty sweet. Most of his colleagues were fun, and his life didn’t have too many major hiccups before Joel pulled him through the portal. He hadn’t thought he would miss that simple, boring life. Yet, there he was, reminiscing and feeling kind of sad about what he’d left behind - a stark contrast to the enthusiasm he’d been feeling for this world.

He didn’t dwell on it in public. Zed and Tango left soon after the conversation ended, to prepare themselves for the journey they’d start tomorrow. Skizz dropped on his bed and tried to sleep, but the emotions from the stories he told remained with him. A maelstrom of thoughts that he hadn’t anticipated, but which dominated his mind.

Did his colleagues miss him? Did they curse him for ditching them and leaving them with his work? Did they worry about his absence? What about his family, were they worried? Were they looking for him? Or was this the type of deal that, when he returned, no time would’ve passed at all back on earth?

He might still have to take his pot off of the stove.

Those questions, all unanswered, carried him into a surprisingly restful sleep. He awoke not having had any dreams, good or bad. Well-rested, he lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling, his mind completely blank, trying not to let any thoughts flood it.

He did have to start thinking and get out of bed eventually, so he did. He got himself ready and prepared for the journey. When he thought he had done everything he needed to do, he decided that he may want to talk to Zed and Tango and hear their advice about what he needed to bring along to the Undead Republic.

He opened the door.

"Letter for Skizzley!"

An ungodly screech came out of Skizz. It took him a solid second to recover from the heart attack, and another to realize that the person who was standing in front of him was none other than Pearl, the moth-postwoman who came to his door. Who might have been about to enter right before Skizz opened the door for her. Skizz leaned against the doorpost, one hand on his heart, while Pearl stood there with a smile on her face.

"Pearl!" Skizz said in between breaths and pants. "You can't scare me like that."

Pearl slightly cocked her head, unaware of any wrongdoing on her part. "Like what?"

Skizz stopped for a second. Then, he realized what she said and that she truly thought that she wasn't doing anything wrong.

Oh well, back to the normal conversation, and to the envelope that was in her hands.

"Did I get a letter again?" Skizz wondered, and he glanced down the hallway. Not that that would change anything, but he thought it would help. Something popped into his mind as he was doing so. Was the god-king that lazy, to send him a letter instead of asking for him to come to the throne room? Then again, writing would take a long while, even if dictated, so Skizz wondered who had written this letter to him.

"That I do," Pearl said, handing the letter over to Skizz. "Here ya go!"

Skizz took the letter from her and looked at it. The envelope did not give him any indication about who had written it. When he looked up, Pearl was already walking back down the hallway.

"Wait!" Skizz said, "wait!"

Pearl stopped in her tracks and turned to Skizz again. “Do you have a letter you wanna send?” she asked. “I can wait here while you go fetch it.”

“No, I don’t,” Skizz said. “I just… I wanted to say, I just love your wings!”

Pearl’s polite smile grew wider and became more enthusiastic. She unfolded her wings and spread them out, as though to show them off.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed. “I do try to take good care of them.”

“I can see that, they’re awesome.” Skizz’s eyes were fixated on the moth wings. The brown wings had a total of four eyespots on them, rings of lighter brown accentuating a black center that mimicked an eye. They were so incredibly fascinating that Skizz had trouble looking away or even remembering where he was going with this information.

“I’m actually growing my own pair, y’know,” Skizz said, rather proud of himself.

“Really?” Pearl said, her interest in Skizz skyrocketing. Was it too early to call her a friend? They spoke so easily with one another, she might as well be considered one. 

She tilted her head slightly, still looking at him. “How long have you been here for?”

“Long enough to start growing ‘em,” Skizz responded. “Two-three weeks, I’ve lost count, don’t really know. I mean, I don’t even know what they’re gonna be like. Right now, they’re just itchy.”

Summoned by the power of mentioning a topic that you then become hyper-aware of, the itch on his back between his shoulder blades returned in full force. It was the type of itch you couldn’t scratch. Even though Skizz was doing his best to care for them, it was just the awkward phase of knowing you have wings and are growing them, and that they were useless until they were bigger. Skizz couldn’t wait, though, he’d be so curious to see what would happen.

In the meantime, Pearl nodded knowingly. “Yeah, that always happens with new wings. A lot of folks grow their wings later in life, it’s completely normal to have that itch. It just means they’re growing. And, from what it sounds like, yours are growing rather quickly.”

Quickly?

Skizz nearly bounced up and down, unable to contain his enthusiasm for this pair of wings. Inside his head, an idea formed that he could not push out even if he put all of his energy into it.

“Oh, that’s so good to know,” Skizz responded. “I know it might be a little weird, but… could you take a look at them? I don’t know what it’s gonna be, yet, and my friends haven’t really looked since they were unidentifiable stubs, either. Now, I don’t want to keep you from your work–”

Before he could finish that sentence, Pearl waved the concerns away. “I’ll take a look for you.”

“Thank you so much!” Skizz said, and he already turned around and took off the jacket and shirt. While Pearl inspected the wings, Skizz paid sudden attention to the shirt and jacket. He’d been wearing those when he’d come to this world. Despite the obvious lack of sleeves on either piece of clothing, they both appeared rather clean. In fact, he was certain this was what he had been wearing while he was actively bleeding to death and then returned. Yet, neither his shirt nor his jacket seemed to have blood stains on them, or even showed where he had been stabbed. So either his friends were doing his laundry for him in his sleep, or the world made doing the laundry unnecessary. He wasn’t sure which was actually going on, but he knew that he quite liked that. One less thing to concern himself with.

“Congratulations, Skizzley!” Pearl said, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You’re getting dragonfly wings!”

Skizz frowned and turned his head. “Dragonfly?”

“Yeah!” When she saw the frown, she tilted her head a little again. “Aren’t you happy with that?”

“Oh, I’m thrilled!” Skizz said. No words could explain how much he had been looking forward to this. “I don’t actually know what type of wings I was expecting, but apparently, it wasn’t dragonfly wings.”

Then what had he been expecting? Perhaps, the only wings he’d ever think of putting on humans were either leathery demon-like wings, or the full white-feathered angel wings. Though he’d seen Pearl’s moth-like wings and the wings of other creatures and people he’d seen out and about and in the street, his mind hadn’t made the obvious connection yet: step away from human assumptions and see what was going to happen.

“Are you okay with it?” Pearl then asked. Her enthusiasm hadn’t waned, but concern had snuck into her voice. The concern of someone who thought they’d seen the enthusiasm fade from the person whose back she just inspected.

“Definitely!” Skizz said, hoping to convince Pearl that he was still as happy with what was happening as before he knew what kind of wings he was growing. “Don’t get me wrong, I love these wings and I’ll cherish them forever! Thank you for taking a look at them.”

The words seemed to have convinced the mailwoman. She took a small bow. “You’re welcome.”

With these words, she turned and waved his goodbye, ready to deliver some more letters to other people.

Right! He’d received a letter.

Skizz looked at the envelope again. It was a plain, white envelope with nothing written on it to see who could have possibly sent it to him. It simply said, in neat handwriting: for the Chosen One.

Skizz frowned. He’d gotten his name back. If someone who knew him would want to write a letter, they’d likely use his name instead of the title. Especially since Pearl apparently only delivered letters that had a clear name on them.

Skizz opened the envelope and read the letter.

A shiver ran up his spine and grabbed him by the throat. The words on the page almost shot venom at him, the malice behind them almost seeping into Skizz’s fingers. The message was barely a couple of sentences long, yet they said everything that its author wanted the Chosen One to know. Evil X wished to threaten Skizz, to get him to second-guess himself and promised hell on earth, to give Skizz a painful death or otherwise to subjugate him to the point that Skizz would willingly kneel and praise him. While he put Skizz down, Evil X praised himself in the same breath.

Skizz closed the letter and crumpled it. He no longer needed to see those heinous words, that made his stomach churn even to read it. His thoughts went every which way and before he knew it, the piece of paper was smoldering in his hands.

Skizz dropped it. The paper harmlessly fell onto the stone tiles of the hallway. It slowly burned to a crisp while he watched, trying to get that shiver out of his spine.

He ought to find Tango and Zed soon. It was high time they left for the Undead Republic.

Chapter Text

The journey to the border with the Undead Republic took about three days. Those three days, Skizz was proud to say, were rather uneventful. Together with Tango and Zedaph, he made his way to the north, following the winding roads and camping out next to the roadside. It started to pour on the second day, and only at noon the next day did the sun start to finally push through the clouds again. Skizz wouldn’t have it any other way.

Well, he’d change one thing.

The road ran next to the ocean. The ocean, where a memory had once almost grasped him and drowned him. The ocean, where he knew someone lived who wanted to see him captured. He didn’t know whether this person lived in the ocean or outside of it - False hadn’t specified when she was talking to her friends - but either way, the ocean was terrifying terrain to be near. That, and the intense drowned woman with her trident who was mad at Skizz for completely no reason also lived there, so it was generally best to steer clear of that place.

By the end of the third day, according to Tango and Zed, they were supposed to reach the border of the Undead Republic. Already, Skizz was keeping his eye out for the obvious border. Of course, he likely shouldn’t assume that the Undead Republic had an obvious border, such as the Jungle or the Fire Plains or the Ice Kingdom or, as a result, the Lore Kingdom. Yet, since it was always clearly defined before, he didn’t think it’d be any different here.

Near the end of that day, he saw a change in the landscape. It wasn’t a gradual shift, so much as it was almost a literal line on the ground. On the side that Skizz and his friends were on, the weather was sunny and light. On the other side of this line, it was darker and cloudy and even in the sky, one could see where the clouds were packed together and where they just stopped, creating this barrier and this line on the ground.

Skizz glanced at his friends. “Over there’s the Undead Republic, right?”

“That’s correct,” Zed responded.

“So, would you know any reason why the sun doesn’t shine there?” Skizz wondered.

“It’s always been like that,” Zed said with a shrug.

“In this world, our undead don’t like sunlight,” Tango explained. “It basically burns them here, so if they wanna survive, they have to stay out of the sun.”

That seems reasonable. If Skizz had something that he absolutely should not be around in order to survive, he’d also take steps not to be around the thing that he definitely isn’t supposed to be around. Thematically, it also made sense, really, that zombies and skeletons and vampires and what-have-you would prefer to stay in a place that’s a little dark and gloomy.

“So they decided to live in the one place where the sun can’t shine?” Skizz wondered out loud. He glanced up at the clouds - a lighter gray, not quite storm clouds, but rather reminiscent of those.

“I’m pretty sure a god packed those clouds for the benefits of the undead,” Tango said, then shrugged. “I could be wrong about that, too. At least the clouds haven’t dispersed since… well, ever.”

With no other questions left, they had reached the border proper. One more step, and they walked from the sunny to the cloudy, from the warmth into a crisp breeze. Despite Skizz’s assumptions of doom and gloom, it actually felt rather comforting. Walking around here, he no longer felt the sun against his skin, but the light filtered through the clouds felt refreshing in a way that pure sunlight never could. The air itself didn’t seem cleaner, but it seemed fresher, too. A bit more crisp than it was a few seconds ago. 

Perhaps that was the usual atmosphere within the Undead Republic. He could get used to that.

What he couldn’t get used to, however, was the proximity of the road to the water. It just refused to leave the shoreline, which only put Skizz more on edge. Speaking of edges, the land kind of rose up, creating a cliff side that they were now walking right next to. Well, there were a couple dozen feet or so between the road and the cliffs, so there was no real threat of plummeting, but it was still a situation that Skizz was hyper aware of to the point that he barely took in any other details in the landscape. His sole focus lay with the cliffs and how far they reached, hoping that the land sloped down again so he could at least see the shoreline.

And, at the edge of the cliff, where the road finally bent away from the ocean, Skizz’s attention snapped to two people who stood rather dangerously close to the edge. One of the figures - tall and lanky - didn’t look familiar, but the other person might have crossed paths with the group before.

Skizz squinted his eyes. “Is that… could that be Grian?”

It indeed was Grian. The closer they came, the more Skizz realized this was definitely Grian, despite the changes. He still seemed to have those two void-holes for eyes, but at least he had shaved. He also seemed to have shed his fisherman clothes, leaving him with just the red shirt and the gray pair of pants. The other person was utterly unknown. This tall, pale man had jet black hair and a well-maintained moustache and wore a nice three-piece suit, complete with red tie. The outfit reminded Skizz of what his bosses back at the office would wear, while the man’s complexion just screamed ‘undead’.

Skizz wasn’t quite sure whether he liked that he saw Grian a second time or not, but it came at quite an opportune time. He didn’t have to seek out this enigma of a person and he would be able to tell him what he thought about the help that he offered in retrieving the ring. Especially about that latent teleport - oh, Skizz knew exactly what he wanted to say.

“So, you shaved your beard,” Skizz said when they’d come close enough to Grian and his friend. They’d been standing there in silence for a little while, and Skizz figured that meant he was allowed to speak.

“I don’t shave,” Grian responded calmly, without looking away from the random spot on the ground he and his friend were looking at.

“Oh.” Skizz didn’t exactly know how to react to that. Obviously Grian had to shave, right? His chin and cheeks had no hint of ever growing a beard ever, but Skizz did clearly remember seeing him sporting one of the mightiest bushiest beards he’d ever seen. With every new word out of Grian’s mouth, Skizz understood the man less and less.

“What brings you here, then?” Skizz asked, hoping to at least try to get a conversation started. “Better fish to catch from up here?”

“We’re not here to fish,” Grian’s friend responded, sounding a little defensive - as though he was offended that Skizz dared to assume what they were doing. Skizz could almost feel Zed and Tango behind him grabbing his shirt to get him to stop talking or potentially aggravating Grian. Yet, those phantom hands didn’t scare him - only if Zed or Tango actually gave his shirt a tug, that’s when he’d start to pay attention to them and their worries.

“Well, in that case, are you here to give us your help again?” Skizz asked, keeping his tone quite casual. “I mean, last time our paths crossed, we went on a quest for Joel and you offered us help, unsolicited, and right now we’re kind of on our own quest again. Although, let’s talk about that help you offered, m’kay? We really appreciate it, but dude, you threw us all the way to the Ice Kingdom!”

Skizz still believed that being dropped off closer to home would have been better.

“I pulled you to safety, as I promised,” Grian said.

“You call the Ice Kingdom ‘safety’?” Skizz exclaimed. “Dude, the Ice Kingdom was freezing! I died over there.”

That seemed to catch Grian’s attention. He finally lifted his head and looked at Skizz with those dead, void-like eyes. Then, after a few seconds, he tilted his head slightly, a curious frown on his face.

“You’re not as human as you were before,” Grian said, righting his head again. “Congratulations on the wings.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

He liked the compliment, but it felt a little weird that it came from Grian. Instead, he glanced at Tango and Zed. They had been quiet this whole time - perhaps they allowed Skizz to speak, perhaps they were simply trying to figure out what Grian and his friend were doing here. It could be anything, really, though their gaze was drawn to where Grian and his friend were looking.

Had Tango’s face gone a few shades paler, or was Skizz still adjusting to how everything looked through the gloom-filter of the Undead Republic?

“I didn’t come here to offer help,” Grian stated plainly. “Mumbo and I were reminiscing about what came before and what may still happen.”

Skizz finally decided to follow their gaze when Grian decided to look again to where his friend - this Mumbo - was still watching. In the periphery of his field of vision, Skizz had already not noticed anything spectacular, so what exactly were they looking at that even Zed and Tango had become silent?

Skizz watched. The ground was largely dirt, with some blades of grass poking through. On this dirt, he saw one big stain, now a more brownish red. For a second, he wondered what it was. When he realized it was a blood stain, a shiver ran down his spine.

He could feel it creeping up on him, similar to what he had felt before. A living memory that didn’t ask to be known but imposed itself upon Skizz. 

Without his consent, the memory dragged him into the maelstrom of the memory and dropped Skizz in the middle of a battle. He stood opposite his opponent, a man in a dark set of armor, a plume on his helmet that was as red as his eyes. A dark Netherite blade sat in his hand, and the knight lunged at him.

Skizz reacted. Or, rather, the person whose memory he was watching reacted. They parried the strike and deflected it, countering it with a strike of their own. Here, at the cliff’s edge, with how the fight progressed, each of the combatants was closer to the edge at some point. The fighter jumped up and flew around, wings like an angel in the corner of her eyes. Mid-flight, they raised their non-sword hand and threw an enormous ball of light at the knight.

The knight could not dodge the attack, and he nearly stumbled, clutching his side. The fighter descended again, confident in their abilities, striding closer to deal a devastating blow and potentially end his life.

The knight struck suddenly. The Netherite sword lashed out, and cut through the wings. The fighter cried out in pain and surprise, closing their eyes for a second. During that second, the sword pierced her stomach. The pain spread across their stomach, immobilized them, and they dropped to the ground instead.

They opened their eyes. Their sword lay on the ground and the knight - who had faked that life-threatening injury - now strode closer. Yet, the fighter focused on the wound. A pale hand pressed against the wound on the stomach beneath the dark blue fabric of their clothes, while the other reached out for the maimed wing. They pulled their hand back, now stained a dark red. Through this fighter’s gaze, the effect of the Netherite was clearly visible, as necrotic energy spread within the wound and crawled out further, nearly creating a web of pain. The all-too familiar numb feeling spread, too, drained whatever energy they had left.

The knight crouched next to the fighter. Despite the helmet, they could almost hear the grin. The fighter desperately reached for the sword despite the pain. The knight stepped on her hand, crushing it beneath his metal boot. If the knight was gloating, they didn’t hear it.

The knight released the hand. With the same boot, he first kicked the fighter to add insult to injury and then tipped them over the edge.

They’d fallen close to the edge of the cliff, the ocean roaring beneath them. The little push of the knight was all it took. They tried desperately to fly and use their wings, but they refused to work. Their gaze remained on the evil glare of the knight as they plummeted. The impact with the water broke their back, and water filled their lungs. The pain, the numbness, the lack of energy ensured they could not make it to the surface again. A hand, stained with blood, reached out to that surface as they drifted down as the air in their lungs slowly ran out.

“Skizz?” Zed’s voice pierced through the memory again. “Breathe. You’re okay.” 

Skizz took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. It had happened before, sure, but this had been the first time he actually got into someone’s head and saw the scene from their perspective. The end of a brutal fight that ended in their death, plummeting into the ocean. His gaze drifted back to the blood stain, where this person had been struck by a similar Netherite sword that he had been killed by.

“Who was that?” Skizz asked. Who was that knight? Who was the person whose memory invaded him? The context would be great to have.

“Helsknight is a loyal follower of Evil X,” Mumbo responded. “He’s a really nasty person.”

“This is where the Chosen One died,” Grian added.

A stone dropped in Skizz’s stomach. He slowly lifted his head again and looked at Grian.

“Okay, let me see if I heard this correctly: did you say ‘chosen one’?”

“I did.”

Skizz caught his breath, stabilized himself before he could lose his footing. For a second, he wondered whether he was going to faint or not, but then he realized this place was gloomy in and of itself and the darker areas were not him losing consciousness. 

He didn’t know why it was such a surprise. Or perhaps he did - because according to common tropes in this kind of situation, there’s only the one chosen one. There’s never a back-up, and if two or more people were chosen ones, then the prophecy would have mentioned multiple people. But it hadn’t - it only referred to one, and Skizz had fully and completely believed that he was that chosen one who would defeat great evil. He’d already died, yes, but not here. Not in the way the memory showed him.

Grian knew. Mumbo knew, too, obviously. Yet, most egregiously, when his gaze fell upon Tango and Zedaph, he didn’t doubt that they were aware of this, too.

“You knew, didn’t you?” he asked his friends. Their lack of answer and them avoiding his gaze was enough of an answer. “You knew there was a chosen one before me and you didn’t tell me about it?!”

Tango sighed, took a deep breath. “Look, it didn’t seem relevant–”

“Not relevant?” Skizz interrupted him. “I’d say this is very relevant. I’m a chosen one! They were, too! They died! They– did they even have the same mission? Were they supposed to defeat a great evil, too? They were fighting a follower of Evil X.”

Again, the question remained unanswered, and Skizz found the answer within the silence.

“They were supposed to defeat a great evil, too,” he said. “Exactly what I have to do.”

“You’re going to succeed,” Zed said, either in an attempt to make him feel better - wasn’t working - or to express his faith in him.

“How?” Skizz wondered. “How am I going to succeed if I’m not even half as cool and bad-ass as the previous one? What do I have that they didn’t?”

The chosen one had been a fighter. They performed combat maneuvers Skizz didn’t even recognize, fluidly switching between flight with ranged light missiles and close quarter combat with a sword. Skizz could barely hold one without hurting his friends. If she couldn’t even defeat one of the followers of Evil X, what chance did he have to do this?”

“You have us,” Zed responded, pointing at himself and Tango. “She… she insisted on doing things herself. She was very competent, none of us questioned her competence.”

“And she died,” Skizz said.

“Well, yes, but–”

“Am I going to die again?” he said and everyone fell silent. “Is that what’s gonna happen? Are the henchmen of evil gonna kill me over and over again until we’re separated and you can’t bring me back anymore? Because if that’s the case, you could’ve just left me in the snow.”

Silence reigned for a second. Nobody dared to speak or break this fragile silence that Skizz left.

Skizz surprised himself with these words. He hadn’t thought his death weighed on him that much, but it did. Death was final in his own world, and it hadn’t been for him. He wouldn’t have wanted to die, but to be revived over and over again was also not something he was looking forward to, if that lay in his future.

With his track record, it just might. Then, another chosen one would be plucked from his world in the hopes that this one didn’t perish.

Tango stepped forward “Skizz–”

“I’m gonna go ahead already,” Skizz said, already taking the first steps away from this place. “You can follow, but I’ve got an Undead Emperor to speak with.”

Chapter Text

The group needed to travel another day before they reached the capital city. Skizz didn’t mind, because it meant he could get a feel for the Undead Republic before they even arrived at the largest bulwark of civilization.

The colors within the Undead Republic were a bit toned down, all now having grey-ish undertones mixed in. All of the colors that would usually pop were toned down, and it seemed the world seemed to follow its example and also be toned down. The dark and gloomy, as expected, did not really go away. The clouds above them remained a light gray that blocked the direct sunlight, but through which enough light filtered that they didn’t constantly need torches to be able to see. Beyond that, the crisp breeze remained a strong feature as well, catching the travelers every once in a while. 

Along the road, they found nothing of interest, only one or two friendly ghosts who kindly asked that they stay on the road to avoid trouble. Since all three of them were new here, they heeded the words of the ghosts and stayed on the road. It singularly continued onwards, with no crossings or other roads meeting this one. They even camped on there - fortunately, this road wasn’t well-traveled, so they weren’t particularly blocking anyone’s way when they camped like this. 

Then, at around noon of the next day, they finally reached the capital city of the Undead Republic.

This city could not possibly be compared with the Lore Kingdom’s capital city at all. Skizz would have guessed the atmosphere would be ‘gothic Dracula castle’, where a lightning bolt conveniently illuminated its silhouette from behind. Instead, it all seemed so mundane. Almost as though no magic was here at all. No buildings randomly stood up and walked to go wherever the sun was pointing, no roads traveled where they wanted to. No, it seemed as though nature and creature-built structures had come to some sort of understanding that allowed this city to stay the same.

Perhaps it was a result of those who lived here. These undead wandered the streets, one more colorful than the next. They had homes, too. Skizz did not know how they died or why they decided to return to some form of undeath, but they might wish for some stability in their lives. The fixed homes and roads, laid out in a neat and orderly manner, would give them some of that structure and stability where they themselves had none.

These creatures had almost all of the same traits as the people Skizz had seen walking around the Lore Kingdom, except they had sallow skin (if they even had skin), visible bones, and a general sullen disposition. According to Tango, that was just how they looked - some of his good friends were zombies, and they were great to be around.

Skizz didn’t respond to what Tango had said. Instead of the elaborate explanation that often had an addition from Zedaph, it was now only a couple of sentences long. Skizz didn’t really mind it that much - or that’s what he told himself. In fact, he did miss those elaborate info-dumps that always tried to make sure he was up to speed. Yet, since the revelation of yesterday evening had stuck with him as much as it had with them.

The mood was weird and slightly uncomfortable. Skizz didn’t want to stew on this for too long, yet he couldn’t let it go. Someone else had been a chosen one before him, and she died. Someone else had tried to defeat this great evil, and she had failed. It clung to him like a stain, like a scent you can’t quite shake. He could try to ignore the feeling in favor of a better atmosphere, but it was difficult to break through the facts and the assumptions about him that followed from those facts. 

As a result, neither Zed nor Tango knew what to do, either. They tried to break the silence, they tried to make conversation, but Skizz didn’t feel ready. Therefore, their conversations only encompassed the absolutely necessary.

“So, where do we need to go again?” Skizz asked.

“The palace,” Tango said. “Over there.”

He nodded to a road right in front of them. It was a wide road and at the end stood the massive palace of the Undead Republic which reminded Skizz of a courthouse that was modeled after one of those old Greek temples or buildings, columns and white stone and all. So that was where they needed to go.

They couldn’t even walk three paces before they were stopped. “Hey! Hey!”

Since they arrived in the Undead Republic, the undead that roamed around had watched them as though they were an exotic species. They walked around with eyes on them, for the living barely came to visit the Undead Republic. However, these people were generally respectful enough not to stare too much and to give them space to do what they came here to do.

The person who called out to them wasn’t undead - or, rather, they didn’t look like one. Skizz instantly noticed a pair of leathery wings as well as a tail. The small horns on his head were polished enough that if the sun shone on them, they might just reflect it. Beyond that, a plain pair of pants and a dirty yellow jacket with a black shirt completed the look. And, unlike most of the people that walked around here, this person seemed excited and was very much breathing.

“You’re not an undead, right?” Skizz asked, just to be sure. He didn’t want to be rude by accident.

“No, I’m not. I’m still very much alive.” The person extended a hand to Skizz. “My name’s Impulse.”

Skizz took the hand and shook it. “Skizz.”

“Nice to meet you!”

“Are you a demon?” Zedaph asked, looking at Impulse a little warily.

“Yes, I’m a demon, but I’m good!” Impulse immediately went into defense mode. He even held up his hands to show that he could be trusted - or at least that he didn’t hold anything harmful. “I didn’t want to stay there. When I heard there was a new chosen one and the rumors said that you were coming here, I just had to come and see you.”

“What, so you can stab us in the back?” Tango wondered cynically.

“Not at all!” Impulse exclaimed. He glanced at Tango and Zed, but Skizz believed the demon could feel that they were not as receptive to his story as Skizz was. Impulse looked at Skizz while he was telling his tale. “I want to help you. I… my home has changed dramatically. I barely recognize it anymore since it was taken over. I don’t like what it’s turned into and I’d like to change it back. I’d like to help save it.”

Impulse straightened his back and lifted his head as a sign of honor or pride or something. Perhaps as a sign that he was serious about this. “If you’ll have me, I’d gladly join your group. You won’t regret it, I swear.”

Skizz briefly looked at Tango and Zedaph. Hearing this story, his mind was already made up. Despite what happened yesterday, he still valued the opinion of his friends. He mostly hoped that his friends would understand the demon and look past the appearance. Yes, the demons of the Evil Empire were the enemy, but this man genuinely seemed to want to help.

Zed and Tango weren’t too keen on the demon’s presence, though.

Tango cleared his throat. “Thank you for the offer, but–”

“Of course you can help!” Skizz interrupted Tango before he could finish his sentence. “Yeah, you can definitely join us.”

The demon almost visibly lit up. He perked up and smiled brightly, almost pumping his fist into the air.

“Yes!” he shouted. “Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!”

Impulse grabbed Skizz’s hand again and shook it. The enthusiasm only confirmed that Skizz had made the correct choice. Neither Zed nor Tango were too happy about it, but neither of them wanted to tell him no. 

In the meantime, Impulse just continued. “You know, I know my way around the empire. If at some point, you wanna know how things are going there, I can easily get you in there without any trouble–”

“That all sounds amazing,” Skizz responded, “but we came to the Undead Republic for a reason. We’re gonna do that first.”

First . Skizz hadn’t made up his mind about the plans of the demon, but they could be useful. However, the atmosphere would need to get better before Skizz considered going into the Evil Empire with them.

Impulse became a bit sad. “Right, of course,” he said, nodding to himself. “Sorry.”

The group took a couple of steps in the direction of the palace, but Impulse didn’t follow them. Skizz stopped them and looked at Impulse.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Impulse pointed at himself, confused. “I can come with you?”

“You’re part of the group now,” Skizz said. “So, yeah! Come along!”

“Sweet!”

So, the group continued as a four-people party. Impulse seemed to be happy to be there, while Zed and Tango were a little more reserved about Skizz’ decision. Was it bad to feel so petty about his decision?

Maybe only for today, it was okay to feel petty. After those few days, it would be time to set the petty aside and focus on the mission again.

For now, to the palace!

Chapter Text

The palace lay in the middle of the city, separated from the rest with an iron fence gate. Through it, the palace itself could be admired from a safe distance: its marble greek-like columns evoked a sense of authority and justice that Skizz gladly associated with a figure out authority. Hopefully, it meant that the prime minister was a just person who would want to hear them out.

As they approached the main gate, the guards stood out to Skizz. Their iron armors were polished and they stood at attention the whole time, their swords in their scabbards. Skizz thought it was admirable that, even though the streets were relatively calm, these guards were taking their jobs as seriously as they would be if they were at war. Upon closer inspection, however, they were just the armors. Skizz attempted to look through the vizors to see if he could see any faces or skins or bones, but he saw none. These were just two sets of armor that stood at attention and sometimes turned their helmets.

Either these armors were animated via magic, or ghosts inhabited them. Whatever the case would be, Skizz liked the idea very much. In fact, this sparked an idea of himself…

“Halt!” a nondescript metallic voice came from one of the armors when Skizz and his friends came too close to the gate. “State your names and your business.”

“Hi,” Skizz said, in case these armors were ghosts. “I’m Skizz Leman, I’m the chosen one. These are my friends, Impulse, Tango, and Zedaph. We want to speak to the prime minister.”

Skizz waited for any response from the armors, but there came none. So he continued to wait, but nothing happened. He glanced at his friends. Impulse didn’t seem to be sure what was happening with these armors, but Tango and Zed waited a little more patiently. Even though Skizz was not currently quite on the same page as Tango and Zed, he still cared about their opinion - so if they were still waiting instead of panicking or worrying, then Skizz would do the same.

He really ought to let go. Tango and Zed likely thought they were doing the right thing by keeping this information away from Skizz. Perhaps they hadn’t even done so consciously - it might have genuinely slipped their minds. Even so, this was something that they must have been aware of. There had been a chosen one before Skizz that they heard enough about to know that she prefered to do things on her own.

“Wait at the steps,” the metallic voice announced, taking Skizz out of his thoughts and back to reality. “Someone will come to speak with you.”

The iron gate fence slowly swung open, creaking a little as it did. The iron armors turned their vizors away from them and back to the streets, where danger may be coming from. Not that that would be the case today - hopefully - but it was always better to be safe than sorry, he guessed.

Skizz watched them for as long as he could while he passed by them, through the gate along with his friends. They walked over to the steps, where a second pair of imposing suits of armor waited and urged them to wait here for someone to come and collect them. Though it was grey overhead the entire time, it wasn’t raining and thank goodness for that, because this holding area did not have any place to take shelter.

“So…” Impulse, the newcomer, said. “Are you always this quiet, traveling together?”

With this sentence, he broke the silence between them. Skizz glanced at Zed and Tango and their gazes actually met. The tension was still palpable, but it wasn’t as great as it had been earlier that day.

“No,” Skizz responded honestly.

“We’re working through some things, ‘s all,” Zed added, which Tango added to with an assured nod. “Nothing that a few good nights’ sleep can’t fix.”

These answers seemed to satisfy the demon, though he still appeared to be a little skeptical. As was Skizz - was this really a problem that would be solved over the course of a few days? Maybe. He had noticed he wasn’t as mad at Tango and Zed for not telling him about the other chosen one as he had been when he’d first learned about it. In future, he could definitely see himself get over it and fully forgive his friends for not telling him sooner. Didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to get salty about it from time to time, but it shouldn’t impede his ability to work together with his friends.

Skizz glanced at Zed and Tango again. Perhaps he really should let go of his little grudge sooner than later.

Before anyone could say anything else, someone exited the magnificent building and descended down the stairs. This man was rather strange to look at. At first glance, Skizz couldn’t determine whether or not this man was translucent or not. One second, his hand seemed to be a physical hand and the next, Skizz could swear he could see the steps through that very same hand. A weirdly green glow came from him, but it did not in any way impede his visibility or made him stand out all that much. His long, brown hair remained affected by gravity all the same and the funky glasses still rested upon his nose, as though he wasn’t some sort of ghost or something. 

If he even fully was a ghost. Skizz wasn’t really sure about that.

“Howdy, y’all,” the man greeted them jovially. “I’m Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee. Are you the chosen one and friends?”

Skizz’s jaw dropped when Joe introduced himself. For a second, he wasn’t certain whether he could trust his own ears. It was rather random, wasn’t it, for this maybe-ghost of the Undead Republic to introduce himself as being from a place from Skizz’s home world. Perhaps that was why he was a little weirded out - but it was possible that some place in the Undead Republic had a similar-sounding name to what Skizz knew as Nashville, Tennessee. 

Wasn’t it?

He glanced to his side. The way his friends frowned at the unusual place name said enough.

“Yeah, that’s us,” Tango said. He pointed at Skizz first and then at himself and the rest of the entourage. “Chosen one and friends.”

Joe nodded. “Then you can follow me. Prime Minister Cleo is waiting for you.”

He turned around and started to walk up the stairs, clearly expecting the four visitors to follow. They did as was expected of them and followed.

“Dude!” Skizz whisper-shouted at Tango, to get his attention as they climbed the stairs.

“What?” Tango responded in a similar manner.

“You didn’t tell me there was another chosen one!”

Tango frowned, genuinely confused by the situation. “There… is no other chosen one?”

“Nashville, Tennessee!” Skizz said. “That’s a place from my world!”

It was easy to assume, wasn’t it? People from Skizz’s world were randomly plucked from their homes to fulfill a prophecy that was just vague enough that it could be about them. It wasn’t a big leap to make that this Joe Hills was once also pulled from his home. Except, unlike Skizz and the unknown chosen one before him, he may have said ‘no thanks’ and left. Perhaps he, too, had once given it a good try, which left him in this ghostly state and may have caused him to retire while he still had the chance.

All Skizz took from this was that this once again may have been a chosen one that came before he ever set foot in this world.

“Joel didn’t bring him here,” Zed said, immediately shattering that theory. “I’d remember a man like him. I’ve never seen him before.”

“He…. Joel didn’t bring him here?” Skizz wondered.

“Nah, he didn’t,” Zed said.

Now Skizz was confused. “Then how did he get here?”

“I dunno,” Tango said with a shrug. “Maybe you should ask him.”

Maybe. It would be a good thing to talk about. For now, Skizz realized that they’d fallen behind and made an effort to try and get back closer to Joe Hills, who was actually keeping the door open for them. Skizz thanked him and they at long last entered the palace.

The inside of this palace looked… well, a little like what Skizz imagined the inside of the White House looked like. The wooden floorboards they walked on did not give away even an inch and therefore did not produce any amount of creaking. The walls were squeaky clean and fully painted white, with no bricks or seams to be seen anywhere. Ornate wooden side tables held strange flowers of all kinds - likely native fauna in the Undead Republic - and some of the walls were adorned with large paintings.

One of those paintings stood out to Skizz. It was a scene that could have easily come from any sort of action fantasy movie out there. A man with wild brown hair, a crown bleeding crimson placed upon his head. His hands rested on the hilt of his sword, the point of which was resting on the ground. The background was a murky brown-ish black, putting the focus fully on the proud and growling king, bloodthirsty and ready to strike at all those who would oppose him.

A shiver ran down Skizz’s spine. At least this place had a prime minister.

“So, have any of you visited the Undead Republic before?” Joe asked them casually, before Skizz had the chance to ask about Nashville.

“No, we haven’t,” Tango said, speaking for the whole group. 

Skizz glanced at the newest member of the party. Though Skizz could easily believe that Tango and Zed had never been to the Undead Republic before, he wasn’t quite sure about Impulse. At first glance, Impulse also shook his head - no, he hadn’t been here before this journey, either. It would’ve been great if Impulse knew - he would be able to prove himself much more quickly - but it didn't matter.

“Are you aware that we have a prime minister now?” Joe then asked.

Zed nodded. “Yes, I have heard about the rumblings of your country’s political shift.”

“Yeah, I don’t even know about that,” Impulse said honestly. He seemed to be most out of sorts with the news. It made Skizz wonder how much Impulse knew about the current situation in this world that didn’t come directly from evil sources. Or even if any news made it to the Evil Empire’s population at all.

“Well, we do have a prime minister here,” Joe helpfully said. “Prime minister Cleo was officially elected as our prime minister a while ago, and she runs the republic. In this capacity, they are being helped by their right-hand man, Ren.”

Impulse’s eyes lit up in recognition, and both Zed and Tango also seemed to recognize the name. As was expected, Skizz had no idea who that person was, but based on the reaction of his friends, this ‘Ren’ must be important.

“Now, that’s a name I have heard before,” Impulse said.

“Wasn’t he the king before you guys introduced elections?” Zed asked.

“That he was,” Joe responded with a nod.

Skizz waited for the half-ghost to fill the silence with a more in-depth explanation. Unfortunately, Joe never fulfilled that duty, leaving Skizz to guess. Before he could ask any of the burning questions on his tongue, he remembered the painting they had passed. The royal, the king, with a crown dripping blood on his head. Was that the Ren that was mentioned? If so, what business did a rather evil-looking king have in any prime minister’s cabinet? It was enough to shut him up and swallow his questions, out of fear that any answer may put Joe in danger.

All the while, Joe guided them through the maze that was the palace. Through these hallways, they came at long last to a set of double doors. Joe opened them and motioned for the guests to enter.

This room must have once clearly been some sort of throne room. Today, no throne graced this room. To the sides, Skizz was more storage space than he’d ever seen in his entire life, all of which was occupied by what seemed to be mountains of paperwork. Skizz could not even guess what it was all about, because every sensible guess would likely be true. At the far side of the room, atop a raised platform, stood a wide desk with two chairs that faced the door. Two people sat on these chairs. The conversation they had stalled as the doors opened and revealed the visitors.

They were quite a pair. The person whom Skizz assumed to be Cleo stood up. She was, plainly, a red-haired zombie in a suit. Her skin was a sickly green, a line of stitches running across her face. Her wavy red hair reached a little beyond her shoulders, looking as healthy on her as it would on a person who was still breathing. Her sharp and potentially judgmental gaze landed on the visitors and Skizz felt incredibly seen. Almost naked. Impulse seemed to have a similar reaction, while Tango and Zed were able to stay more calm and collected.

After that first impression, Skizz focused his attention on the other person in the room. dog-like ears peeked out of the wild brown hair. The red shirt he wore was reminiscent of the red cape that the king depicted in the painting had worn. This man, presumably Ren, also wore a pair of sunglasses - what was the point of those when the sun didn’t shine here? - and sat rather relaxed in his seat, leaning back a little as he allowed the prime minister to take it from here.

“Howdy,” Joe said to prime minister Cleo and he motioned to the visitors. “These are Skizz - the chosen one - and his entourage.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Cleo said with a nod. Joe similarly responded with a nod and closed the door. Skizz frowned, for Joe stayed within the room. He’d expected the half-ghost to stay outside and leave them to the conversation, but that apparently wasn’t how things were done in the Undead Republic.

“So…” Cleo said, her gaze turning to Skizz. “You are the chosen one?”

Skizz gulped and found his voice again after a few moments. Why was he so nervous? It probably was the presence of the dog-man who looked like the red king from the painting.

“Yeah,” Skizz said. “I… I came to ask for help. In defeating the great evil that I’m supposed to be. Do you think there’s anything we can work out?”

Skizz could almost feel Impulse flinch in embarrassment next to him.

“You’re rather direct,” Cleo responded without any change in her facial expression. Was she just like that or was that just a side-effect of her being a zombie?

Skizz nodded in agreement. “I don’t know what else to say, so…” he shrugged. “I mean, we’d be willing to help with anything that we can handle.”

He glanced at his friends. They didn’t mind that Skizz offered their help in exchange for the help that they needed. Even Impulse, who hadn’t really been brought up-to-speed with what they were trying to do and seemed to not like how Skizz was handling these negotiations, did not speak up against Skizz. Emboldened by the inherent trust that had been placed upon him, Skizz looked at Cleo and waited for an answer.

Cleo tilted her head a bit when she heard they were willing to help. She turned her head and met with Ren’s gaze - at least, Ren also appeared to be looking directly at Cleo. It was rather difficult to tell with his sunglasses. Yet, he faced Cleo and Cleo faced him, likely sharing a thought and confirming whether the other had the same idea.

“What help would you ask of us?” Ren asked, his tone feigning a certain nonchalance that Skizz immediately picked up on.

It was a good question, though. What kind of help was Skizz asking for? His first thought would be ‘help’, but that was entirely too vague and he figured that Impulse might actually have an aneurysm if he heard Skizz say that. Instead, within a second, Skizz tried to think of what kind of help they may need in this fight, and what they could reasonably ask for.

His mind went to the armors outside.

“I saw some suits of armor out there, standing guard,” Skizz then said, and he continued with all the confidence he could muster. “I don’t know how things are around here, but lives are… well, they’re one-and-done. I have to defeat a great evil, but I don’t know if I’m going to reach them, especially if they have an army. I don’t want to put people in danger, though. If you’ve got more of those suits of armor to fight against the Evil Empire, that’d be great.”

“That’s quite a demand,” Cleo remarked dryly. It was difficult to tell whether she was being sarcastic or if she was seriously considering his request. Not at all a great person to negotiate with.

“I know,” Skizz said. The confidence melted away, leaving only the sincerity in his voice. “I don’t know what we’d have to do to get access to even a few of these soldiers, or even any other help we may receive, but… please. You do want the Evil Empire to not be evil anymore, right? We’ll take what we can get - what you’re willing to offer.”

Cleo turned her head to stare at Ren again, and Ren did the same. The way they looked at each other - and based on some of the facial expressions Cleo made - Skizz wondered whether these two actually had a telepathic connection that they used to have a quiet conversation with one another. Either they did, or the time they used to stare at each other only seemed way too long from Skizz’s perspective. The serious looks on their faces didn’t help, either.

“I mean…” Ren said at some point with a half-shrug. “They could help.”

“You’re right,” Cleo said. She turned her head to her visitors again. “Looks like we might be able to help each other.”

A massive weight dropped from Skizz’s shoulders as he sighed in relief. “What do we have to do?”

“We’ve been waging a war ourselves,” Cleo explained. “It’s an underground threat that has been advancing on us for a while. This lichen, this sculk , takes and takes relentlessly. We’ve been trying to keep it from spreading, but it’s become difficult to reign in. My puppets ensure that no unlives are risked while they fight to keep the sculk contained. This sculk consumes everything it comes into contact with and we can’t risk anyone coming too close.”

“Alchemists and scientists were naturally curious about this newest lifeform,” Ren continued. “They’ve been trying to figure out a way to stop its spread, actually, as well as to help those who have already been infected by it. They recently traveled to a new outbreak zone, closer to the surface. We lost all contact with them about three days ago.”

“Perhaps you and your friends can take a look,” Cleo ended the explanation. “Go check up on them, and let us know if they’re too caught up in their work to contact us, or if something worse has happened.”

Skizz listened intently, a knot starting to form in his stomach. He didn’t know what this sculk was all about, and the way that Cleo spoke about it didn’t provide a clear-enough picture for him. For one, they didn’t describe what this sculk looked like in general. For two, it just sounded like something that was ripped straight out of a horror movie, and Skizz never cared for horror much. Especially if he was forced to live it.

Fortunately, they weren’t asked to fight this sculk. No, they just needed to find the scientists and alchemists who were studying it. That sounded like a manageable task. Perhaps they didn’t even get to see that sculk.

“We could do that,” Skizz said. “Right, guys?”

Tango and Impulse seemed to be up for the task. Zed, too, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere, too. He actually took one step forward, a certain glint in his eyes indicating he had an idea, and he spoke up.

“Are there any alchemists still around here,” he wondered, “or did all of them go to the outbreak zone?”

A good question, since Cleo and Ren both needed to think about it a little bit. Ren looked directly at Cleo again.

“I think one or two stayed behind,” he said. “Didn’t they?”

“Yes, two of them did stay here,” Cleo responded. She looked directly at Zed. “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Zed said, “I do not doubt my friends’ capabilities in handling your request and I’d love to accompany them, but I also would like to make an offer of my own.”

“Sure,” Cleo said, allowing Zed to make that offer, probably intrigued by what the part-sheep person would be able to offer her.

“While my friends go and fulfill your request, I would love the opportunity to stay here and help out your alchemists. I’m an alchemist in King Joel’s employ, you see. I fully understand it can’t be easy for my colleagues to be the last ones and to live in that uncertainty. Perhaps, while my friends are busy, I can help your alchemists and perhaps we can learn a lot from one another. More specifically, if they’ve already been working on other samples taken from this sculk, a fresh look from someone who’s never seen it might cast a new light on it, which may lead to a breakthrough.” He took a moment to let the request sink in before he continued. “All theoretically, of course. I’d just love to be of assistance here.”

Skizz’s first instinct was to protest this suggestion, but he said nothing. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, his first concern was what would happen if he happened to lose his life again and Zedaph was nowhere to be found. To be pushed into death’s arms - for real this time - without any apprentice to save him from that cold embrace. 

On the other hand, Zedaph spoke passionately. He really wanted to stay and engage with his fellow alchemists. Besides, if Skizz’s first theories were correct, then they may not even have to engage with the sculk after all. They would be alright. Zed could do what he wanted without having to worry about his friends.

“One of Joel’s alchemists, you say?” Ren asked him.

“The head alchemist, actually,” Zedaph said with a sense of pride that rarely reared its head.

“Then I believe he should be given that chance,” Ren said, briefly turning his gaze to Cleo again.

“Alright,” Cleo said. “Then you’ll stay here with my alchemists. As for the rest of you… Ren, would you point them the way to the outbreak zone?”

“Gladly,” Ren responded with a wide grin. Was it just Skizz, or did the dog-man have some very sharp teeth?

“This is settled, then?” Skizz said, in an effort to gain a little bit of control about the situation again - and to not think about those sharp teeth. “The three of us help you in this outbreak zone and Zed with your alchemists, and you’ll see how you can help us with puppet soldiers?”

“Yes,” Cleo said.

“That’s amazing!” Skizz then exclaimed. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re very welcome,” Cleo responded, a modest smile now finally appearing on her face. She glanced at Ren, who also finally stood up.

“Now,” Ren said to Impulse, Tango, and Skizz. “Shall we?”

Chapter Text

When Skizz learned the journey would take about a day and a half, he had expected to have to weather the storms that he still expected to come from the dark clouds overhead. What he had not realized, however, was that they would be going underground as soon as they left the capital city. He had thought they would continue to journey eastward, to a town simply marked as Zondale - instead, they turned to the north and followed a road sloping down to Aeston-Below-Palace, which Ren simply named Aeston-Below. 

The slope down eventually became a tunnel, tall and wide enough for two carts going in two different directions to comfortably pass each other. The lichen against the walls and the ceilings gave off just enough light to see a few feet around them. Every so often, they came at an intersection of tunnels, marked by a torch that shed more light than the lichen.

“The roads are used for travel,” Ren explained. “Most people stay with their communities. We’re not a people that tend to travel too much, but traders do pass by. Food and other resources need to be taken to these towns, after all.”

They ignored the sign pointing down to Aeston-Below and instead followed the most eastbound road again, which sloped down only a little more than the other tunnels. Sometimes, they even sloped up again before they eventually went down again. A group of bats that called this specific section their home flew up and around and away, startled by the people that disturbed their peace.

Ren must have seen the confusion on Skizz’s face and offered some more explanation about how this Republic worked. Some people lived on the surface, yes, but those towns were few and far between. No, most of their people felt more comfortable living within the bowels of the earth, making their Republic more vertical than horizontal. Their capital city was located on the surface for easier trade purposes and because traders from outside were more likely to get lost in the labyrinthine tunnels of the Republic. All kinds of undead mingled and lived in peace with one another, though the occasional rotten apple still presented themselves. Such was the way of society; not every single person would be good, nor as grateful they had received a second chance at life as a zombie, skeleton, or otherwise.

The notion of evil individuals within the kingdom interested Skizz - in the sense that it drew his attention back to the painting he’d seen. He still couldn’t get past the idea that Ren looked like the evil-looking king in the painting. Neither Tango nor Impulse were all too concerned - or perhaps they hadn’t made that connection - and the curiosity almost ate him up. He needed to know, even if it may cost him his head.

“So…” Skizz eventually asked. “This place used to have a king, right?”

“That it did,” Ren responded with a nod. “The Undead Republic used to be a kingdom! But alas, the kingdom has fallen and something better has come in its place.”

“What happened, then?” Skizz wondered. “I’m new in this world, so I don’t really know what’s going on with this place. I’d like to learn, though.”

Next to him, Skizz could see Impulse nod in agreement. He seemed just as curious as Skizz to learn something new about this kingdom - a curiosity that Tango lacked. Tango could still enjoy a good story, but from the way he looked around and how he seemed to tune out at certain moments made it appear like he already knew the tales. Unlike Skizz and Impulse, who likely heard these stories for the first time.

“Perhaps you’d be interested to know the kingdom isn’t all old as you may believe it is,” Ren said, as he launched into the story with the widest grin like a true storyteller. “It was the brainchild of two good friends. With so many undead around, wouldn’t it be a good idea to unite the downtrodden and outcasts? A place where undead could live without fear of repercussion, or without being feared themselves. Of course people in Hermiton know that undead aren’t inherently evil, but superstitions do still exist. In this kingdom, there would be no superstitions. It became a refuge for those who would be unable to survive elsewhere, and for those who did not want to experience feeling different from the rest. Only one of the friends could be the king, though. It was a fun time, it was a good time for everyone. However, the king realized after a while that the kingdom would be better off in the hands of his good friend.” 

Ren nodded once to himself, getting caught up in a memory - an ordinary memory, for no living memories lingered here. The smile faded slightly. “And of course the first thing they do is turn it into a Republic! I should’ve seen it coming, really, but it allowed the people to vote who they wanted to lead them.”

Skizz frowned. “They voted out the king and his friend?” The tone and smile that lingered on Ren’s face conflicted with the words he’d spoken, and Skizz wasn’t sure what to assume or believe.

“On the contrary!” Ren exclaimed, his voice echoing through this section. “The people of the Undead Republic overwhelmingly voted in favor of Cleo. Since my name came out second, I was grateful to be able to help them with their work as Prime Minister.”

Finally, it clicked in Skizz’s mind. “So it is you! You’re the king!”

“ Was the king,” Ren corrected him without any hint of resentment. “Not anymore. Now I’m the right-hand man to the Prime Minister.”

More and more questions came to mind - most of which Skizz pushed aside because they may be too inappropriate. The story was a good one, and explained what Skizz had wanted to know. Any other piece of information, such as how the decision was made to step away from his power, was not relevant to the story and not something that Skizz necessarily needed to know, even if he wanted to. Everyone had a right to privacy, including Ren.

“Doesn’t it sting?” Impulse wondered. “To lose that power?”

“A little,” Ren admitted. “But I’ve learned to live with it. I mean, I gave it up for a reason, and our republic is in the best hands.”

Skizz nodded. That sounded reasonable.

“Okay, cool,” Impulse responded. “Next question: is it normal for bats to follow us around?”

Impulse tried to subtly point behind him, the subtlety of which was lost when three heads turned almost simultaneously to take a look. Right behind them, ten-ish feet away, flew a bat. It seemed to keep the same pace as their group did, staying behind them at the same distance as much as possible. 

For a moment, Skizz worried about enemies. It would be easy to ambush them, in the middle of a tunnel, with nowhere to run, especially if pincered. What if this bat was a spy for the evil forces - would they even use bats? Skizz wasn’t sure.

No, that was a stupid question. If Impulse was pointing it out, the bat likely wasn’t a spy. It also helped that as Ren took a look, he did not seem to be concerned in the slightest.

“It wouldn’t be normal for bats, no,” Ren said, “but this likely isn’t a bat. This could be a curious vampire following us around.”

Skizz’s mouth nearly fell open. “This place has vampires?”

“Of course there are vampires,” Tango responded. “They’re undead, too.”

“They indeed exist,” Ren added. “They don’t tend to live near bigger population centers, out of general concern for the obvious, but they do exist. If that bat is a vampire, they clearly just want to observe us and not interact. This means we ought to respect their wishes to remain at a distance.” He took one more glance at the bat and shrugged. “Or it could indeed be just a bat. You can never really tell.”

Skizz was convinced that bat was a vampire, though. Even as they came to another intersection, the bat did not peel off to go elsewhere; they continued to follow Skizz and his friends at a respectable distance. The bat didn’t need to wait long for any conversations it may want to hear, as Ren quickly changed the topic and walked beside Skizz.

“So, what is your strategy?” he asked.

Skizz frowned. “What do you mean?”

Ren glanced at Impulse. “Well, you’ve got a demon on your team. From what I’ve heard, the last chosen one didn’t bother with any friends, let alone a demon. So, what’s your plan? Full-on assault? Infiltration?”

“Oh,” Skizz stammered. Good question. What was his plan? To gather support, yes, but then what? Would infiltration - something that Impulse had already suggested - be a good idea? He didn’t know. “I mean, I’m not–”

“I’ve only joined them a day ago,” Impulse jumped in. “We haven’t really had the time to discuss any plans.”

“A day ago?” Ren raised an eyebrow. “That really isn’t that long.”

“It’s really not,” Tango said. It appeared that he, too, was slowly trying to grow back towards Skizz by trying to accept that Impulse was a part of their crew now. “But it does bring up an interesting question. Why did you leave your home exactly?”

“Good question,” Skizz then said, looking straight at Impulse. “You said it’s changed, right?”

Impulse nodded cautiously, as though he wasn’t quite sure whether he should share his story with Ren. In the end, he decided to just look at Skizz - who seemed to care the least that he was a demon, in a good way - and address him specifically.

“It’s different,” Impulse began. “I was young when Evil X arrived. It was… I don’t know if things were better back then, but they must’ve been. I’ve heard my parents talk about houses before. But he arrived and he instantly took over. We still don’t know how he did it, but he did. Then, the messages came.” He grimaced, spoke dramatically as he recited the messages. “The rest of the world hates you. Why shouldn’t you risk everything? Your type of magic is valid even if it isn’t inherent. They despise you for this. They already no longer wish to trade with us, why even bother?” 

Impulse shook his head, perhaps in an attempt to dispel the thoughts about those messages. “I could go on and on, but I don’t want to bog you down. They were relentless.”

Skizz listened, shocked at what Impulse was telling him. How could one survive being bombarded with that kind of messaging? “That’s what you’ve been hearing all the time?”

“Not just hearing. It’s what we were taught,” Impulse said. His voice had gone quieter, but within the silence of the tunnel, everyone could still hear him clearly. “It didn’t take long for some of us to hedge their bets. They took the risks. They proclaimed loudly to be in support of the new government when they really weren’t. Unfortunately, other demons fully bought into what Evil X was saying. They ratted out their fellow demons. I can still see their corpses sway in the wind.”

Impulse shuddered. His words had resurfaced a memory he abhorred for good reason. Skizz couldn’t imagine what it was like to see that, and he was glad that he couldn’t.

“Oh.”

“It didn’t stop with the messages,” Impulse continued. “Something else happened, something strange. Our magic was fading from us, from our lands. Evil X blamed the rest of the world for their unwillingness to share. He promised to us that he would do everything in his power to get it back. But to get it back, he couldn’t do it alone. He needed us, he needed an army, to take back what had been stolen from us. Most of us believed him. I did, too. For too long.” Shame rose within him, and he took a deep breath.

“I could’ve still been one of those desperate soldiers. But a chosen one died. We heard about it. We saw her as an enforcer of the Lore Kingdom, and in extension also of the rest of Hermiton. My people celebrated, but I thought… a chosen one is usually picked out by the forces of good, right? If that chosen one  fought against Evil X, then that had to mean we were the evil ones.”

“That’s horrible,” Tango said.

Skizz folded his arms. “So, the forces of someone named Evil X are evil, now?”

His tone still suggested respect for the demon for opening up and he realistically knew how the demons could have been deceived after hearing everything, but he couldn’t help himself from making the comment.

Impulse stared for a second. Surprisingly, a singular chuckle came from it.

“We’ve been hearing that name for so long, we barely connect it to its original meaning anymore,” Impulse said. That temporary funny moment disappeared soon after as the gravity of the situation hit him once more. “Either way, it didn’t feel right to support Evil X. Not anymore. But it's deadly to doubt our leader, so I kept my thoughts to myself. It was rather difficult to keep up appearances, but I managed. I survived. Then, of course, there’s rumors of a new chosen one and… well, here I am.”

Impulse shrugged as he said the last part, motioning to the silent space around him. The bat that had been following them - the vampire - decided to hang from the ceiling and warily watched them continue down the tunnel.

Skizz could only feel a sense of admiration for this person. The things that he had been through as a citizen of the Evil Empire, all the trouble he'd gone through, and then the decision to finally leave and make his own path. And all of that despite the threats that have been levied against those who would go against their leader.

“Did you tell anyone you’d leave?” Skizz asked him.

“No. I wanted to live,” Impulse said. “I don’t know what will happen if we go there. Maybe they’ll forgive me. Maybe not. But I do want to help you.”

“Even if you won’t be able to go home anymore?”

A single humorless dry laugh escaped Impulse's mouth. “I left. There’s no going back until Evil X is defeated.”

How could Skizz be any more impressed with this demon? “That’s quite a risk you took.”

Again, Impulse shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m a demon. It’s kind of our thing. At least, it used to be.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Impulse,” Skizz then said. In all genuine seriousness, Skizz was glad that Impulse had made the decisions he's made - to leave a toxic and dangerous environment - and that he had chosen to follow his own path. Impulse wished to help his people, even if it outcasted him. It showed true courage and strength and already made Skizz wonder how they could minimize the damage they'd do to the Evil Empire.

Impulse smiled and released the tension that he must've been holding onto since he first approached them. “Thanks.”

Coming from ahead of them, from around the next corner, a strange clicking noise caught their attention. Tango, Skizz and Impulse didn't recognize the sound, but Ren immediately stopped in his tracks and held out his arm to stop anyone from walking even further. The clicking noise stopped as soon as it started, lasting only a second before it faded. Once more, the group was bathed in uncertain silence.

“Did you hear that?” Tango wondered. The clicking noise returned and Ren shushed him. Again, they waited until silence had returned.

Quietly, Ren snuck forward and the party followed. They walked around the nearby corner and were met with an unusual sight. The tunnel continued, but the lichen was different. It was now more of a moss-like structure with veins crawling out some bigger patches. A blanket of dark moss had been cast over the tunnel, and within it, dots of teal light faded in and out. Beyond that, closer to their position, a thicker patch of this moss rose out of it, with four vines growing up without any support, swaying in a non-existent breeze.

Ren motioned at them to stay quiet and stay back as he approached further. Each step was carefully chosen and taken, cautious until the last moment. Little by little, Ren snuck closer until the vines. Then, he reached out his hand and in one quick movement, he grabbed the vines and tore them out of the moss. The clicking again filled the air, but it faded quicker than usual. Ren waited, as though he anticipated something, but sighed in relief when nothing happened. He tossed the vines further onto the moss.

Its dull impact on the moss seemed to be more confirmation that Ren was looking for. He instantly dropped the caution and walked back to the rest at a normal pace. It was enough to signal to the others that it was safe to stop being quiet and sneaky.

“What is that?” Tango asked, his gaze still on the vines that lay on the moss.

“Sculk.” Ren spoke with as much venom in his voice as he could muster. “It's what our alchemists and scientists are researching. Don’t touch it.”

Skizz frowned. “But you just…”

“You can pull out the sensors if you grab them at their vines. That’s the safe part to touch. Everything else will suck your energy and use it as nourishment to grow.”

Ren glanced behind him, and the others did the same. Where the vines had fallen onto the sculk, they already disappeared. The sculk itself hungrily climbed on top of the vines, to cover them completely and take whatever energy and nutrients they could get from it. They could see the veins advance, slowly but surely.

“That's gross,” Impulse said.

“Those things click when it hears something,” Ren explained further. “There was no shrieker nearby, thank goodness, but we should be careful if we hear one. We don't know if a shrieker could be around, hidden in the walls.”

Skizz nodded. “Noted.”

He glanced at the sculk. He couldn't help but wonder whether this was what had taken out the alchemists and scientists. It might have, considering what they were studying. And if so, what were they going to come across when they found the potential remnants of these brilliant minds. Skizz didn't want to have to fight them, though that is what it was looking like it might be.

“This tunnel’s been compromised,” Ren said. “We’ll go around. Follow me.”

Ren pushed past them to be able to show them another way to get to the newest outbreak zone. The vampire/bat that hung on the ceiling waited for them to pass by before they followed again at a respectable distance.

All the while, Skizz hoped the scientists and alchemists had forgotten to contact the palace. However, now having seen the sculk first-hand, Skizz feared for that ideal situation.

Chapter Text

The way to the camp was quiet, but not inhumanly silent as the sculk wished. The time was spent in pleasant conversation or comfortable silence. They camped in a resting cave for a while (similar to what a campsite would be above ground), close enough to the surface that a hole in the ceiling gave them access to the sky. A zombified trader from a place called Cerylle camped there, too, going in the direction of the capital city with his skeletal llamas and cart. And, of course, the bat/vampire followed them even now, still keeping its distance from the group.

They would arrive soon, according to Ren. Which was great. It only made Skizz wonder more and more whether or not the scientists and alchemists they had to check on were going to be okay.

They hadn’t made contact, while they were supposed to be in regular contact. That was what Skizz made of it. Something had happened to them that made them unable to make that contact. Skizz still hoped that somehow, their communication device had broken and that they’d come upon these people, surprised to see Ren, only to tell him they’ve sent out one of their own to request a new communication device. Though it didn’t seem likely, Skizz hoped that they were going to find these accomplished men and women alive and well, with the excuse they forgot about this integral part of their job, just because they found something exciting.

That may not be the case, though. Especially when the sculk seemed so abundant.

On their journey over, they came across three more such sculked-up passages. Ren had only deemed one of those harmless enough to pass through, but only on the condition that all of them remained quiet. Within that silence, Skizz could only imagine the carnage they may find the scientist and alchemist camp in, covered in sculk, the people themselves reduced to nothing more but feeding cells for this aggressive form of moss. If it even was moss. Skizz wasn’t sure, that part never really was explained to him.

When Ren slowed down a bit, and if Skizz’s inner clock was correct, they had to be close to their destination.

“Are we here?” Skizz asked.

“Almost, just around that corner,” Ren responded in a whisper. Skizz could feel the tension, the worry that their noise was going to be picked up by those sensors. However, they still made some noise as they approached and they weren’t met with any kind of clicking sound. That was good. On the other hand, if the camp was just around the corner, it wasn’t a good sign that nothing but silence awaited them.

The group braced for the worst and walked around the corner.

The tunnel widened out into a cave, providing enough space for the camp. A couple of tents still remained standing, but near everything else was destroyed. Alchemical sets, complete with vials and tubes - similar to Skizz had seen Zed used - were smashed, shards of glass scattered across the ground. Other items that Skizz could no longer recognize were also completely destroyed, and pieces of armor were dented and broken beyond use or resurrection. Not even the puppets, who were supposed to defend these people of science, were spared.

What caught his attention, however, were the corpses. Within what little light the lichen on the walls and ceiling provided, it reminded Skizz of some sort of horror movie. It all contributed to an eerie environment and atmosphere which sent shivers up Skizz’s spine.

Skizz knelt down at one such corpse. The person’s throat had been slit so deeply that it almost looked like someone tried to chop off the head and only got halfway through. He took a deep breath.

“Well…” Skizz said, breaking the tense silence. “This can’t have been sculk, at least.”

“It couldn’t be,” Ren responded. His tone emphasized his sorrow and the underlying anger that boiled beneath. He had been inspecting a chest, mostly hidden from sight, that had been spared from destruction. He held out a vial, properly stoppered, that had a little bit of sculk inside it. Skizz approached and noticed how this sculk was unmoving and the fading dots of blue were weaker than what he was used to seeing.

“There,” Ren said. “They knew how to keep their research contained, and it can’t escape. It wasn’t the sculk.” 

“Someone murdered them all,” Impulse then said. Skizz was glad that Impulse had said what he had been thinking and hadn’t wanted to speak it into existence. All four of them could clearly see that sculk had nothing to do with this, as they all must’ve believed. Looking at the wounds on the corpses, someone had done this. Someone had come and cut down these scientists and alchemists who were just doing their job. Their demise was a tragedy.

“Who would do such a thing?” Tango wondered, his skin a couple of shades paler than before. Ren shook his head, Skizz remained close. Impulse wandered around a bit, to the other side of the cavern where the road continued. Nobody had looked there yet.

“None of our own,” Ren said, as Impulse started his silent investigation. “Our people know the work these brilliant men and women are performing. Without them, the sculk can grow relentlessly without any pushback. Without them… it takes time before new alchemists and scientists have been trained and hired. We don’t know how quickly the sculk can grow or spread.”

And they had no idea how easily these new folks would be able to study the sculk and find a solution to this ongoing problem. The gravity of the situation hit Skizz harder and harder with every second that passed by.

“Over here!” Impulse called out. “I found something.”

Almost immediately, Tango, Skizz and Ren rushed over to where Impulse kneeled down. One of his hands was on the ground, next to some dried blood. These splotches did not seem to connect back to any of the corpses in the campsite. 

“What is it?” Ren asked before he’d reached Impulse.

“It’s a trail, I think,” Impulse responded. “One of them may have survived.”

Hope, though welcome, may be dangerous. It would be nice if one of them had survived, but in what state would that person be? They had no idea when this assault had happened, and if this potential survivor was still alive at this point. Hope, however, was all they had right now. It would be great to end this mission on a positive note instead of having to return to Cleo with the sad news that their scientists and alchemists had perished to something other than the sculk.

“We ought to be careful, still,” Ren said. “Though sculk didn't take out these people, we can never know whether sculk is lurking around the corner.”

The others agreed and left the camp behind them. They snuck forward, not letting the temptation of conversation get the better of them. In total silence, however, their thoughts were allowed to run wild, and Skizz couldn‘t help but think of a million things they'd find once the trail of blood ended. Some were positive, most were negative and a few were rather gruesome. Most of them did include a man with flesh and bone, alive, for zombies did not have that much blood running through their veins anymore. At least, that's what Skizz assumed. If possible, Skizz would want to make sure they would save this person in this life and not let them move on to a state of undeath.

They snuck for what felt like hours and must've only been fifteen minutes or so. The trail had ended - the blood dried up - but voices had risen in the distance. Voices that did not sound friendly in the slightest.

So, naturally, they followed the voices. Off of the beaten path, in what pretty much was a dead-end sidecave, these voices sounded loudest. The group snuck closer and closer  until they could come no further without being spotted.

Torchlight flooded the room, strategically placed in the middle. Off to the side, to Skizz's left, the action took place. A woman in a white lab coat, similar to one Zed wore, stood in front of a table that had a still intact alchemist set. The table looked dinged up and the alchemy set seemed like it was one gust of wind away from falling into pieces. The alchemist herself looked like she had taken a beating, gashes in her lab coat that was covered in blood spatters. In the side that they could see, a larger blood stain was visible around one tear in the fabric.

Her hands trembled as she worked slowly, clearly under duress. She was not the only one in this cave, after all.

The voices came not from her, but from the two others. A knight in dark armor, with a red plume coming from his helmet, seemed to be unable to stand still. His tone suggested a certain agitation and impatience that the other person could barely temper. A female harpy stood there, her arms folded. Her long blond hair was currently in a ponytail, his wings folded on her back, her sword sheathed and her tone cautious yet menacing.

Skizz’s jaw dropped, for the woman looked exactly like the one who had almost succeeded in kidnapping him. So False was a traitor!

The knight sharply turned around and walked over to the alchemist, his armor clanking as he did. He slammed a flat hand on the table, making the alchemist flinch. “Is this going to take any longer?”

The alchemist stuttered, stumbled over her words. “I-It takes time to–”

“That's not what I asked,” the knight snarled and he ostentatiously rolled his eyes. “Geez, and you’re supposed to be one of the smart ones in this washed-up republic?”

“Patience, Helsknight,” False said. She didn't even step in, only quietly observed. On the one hand, she did exactly what Skizz would expect of her. On the other hand, there was something that kind of felt off about her. Something that Skizz immediately swept under the rug because this clearly was False.

“Patience isn’t going to get us far,” Helsknight said, without turning his gaze to his ally. Instead, his hungry eyes stayed on the poor alchemist. “You still haven’t answered my question. How long until you’ve finished that antidote?”

Skizz frowned. An antidote? Was that why these two had come here - for an antidote? Why take one of the alchemists and kill the others, then? What were they on about?

Since Impulse had seemed to have lost all color in his face, Skizz assumed these two were cronies of Evil X, too.

The alchemist was shaking even more clearly now, trying to keep her emotions under control enough to respond to the questions. “It’s not going to be–”

One of his hands grabbed her shoulder, the other on the hilt of his sword. A panicked breath escaped her lips as she tensed up her body, afraid to scream or say anything else. 

“I need to start hearing some numbers,” Helsknight said. “Now.”

“Let her go!” Ren stepped forward, out of the shadows. He was seething, a glare in his eyes that one could feel from even behind the sunglasses. He had no weapon on him, but he balled his fist and looked more than ready to punch the knight in the face. He marched into the room, determined to save the one survivor, unwilling to stand for the horrible treatment she was getting.

Skizz saw this happen and, after one more second, he came out of hiding, too. He could have stayed in the shadows, but he would rather not let Ren confront two of them on his own. Especially because Skizz knew the purple glint of their dark, Netherite blades all too well. And, to support Skizz, Tango followed as well, less confident than the others.

Impulse seemed to shrink even more, trying to keep out of sight.

Helsknight and False reacted immediately. False drew her sword and spread her wings, her eagle eyes on the opponents that presented themselves. She glanced around, taking in every single detail that she may be able to use to her advantage. At the same time, Helsknight gripped the alchemist and used her as a human shield, the blade of his sword uncomfortably close to her neck.

Surprise crossed Helsknight’s face.

“Oh, really?” he said, a sadistic grin spreading across his face. He glanced at False. “True, would you look at that? The King hath arrived to save his subjects.”

Skizz wasn’t sure whether Helsknight meant to say ‘truly’ or whether “True” was a way that he used to refer to his companion. Skizz leaned to the latter option, especially now that he saw her wings. They were a lot darker than those False had, and he’d seen them up close well enough. Folded up on her back, it was impossible to make out whether this was False or this impostor, but now that she’s spread those dark brown wings, it became clear that Skizz had been wrong about False betraying them.

It did still raise the question, why did False want to capture Skizz so badly? And would she do it again?

“Oh, wait,” Helsknight said, pretending he just realized this something. “This place doesn’t have a king anymore, does it? Shouldn’t have used that useless title.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Ren responded, likely holding himself back with every shred of caution he still had. “But it has a wonderful Prime Minister.”

“Well, you say ‘wonderful’, but the glare in your eyes says otherwise,” Helsknight taunted him. Having had his fun with the former king, he turned his own red gaze to Skizz. “And there - looks like Badtimes wasn’t as thorough as he’d claimed. You’re still breathing. This is going to be so much fun.”

“Perhaps killing isn’t fun, y’know,” Skizz said, emboldened by Ren’s response to try some in return. “You could take out your anger on something else.”

Helsknight playfully moved his blade closer to the alchemist’s neck. Skizz held out a hand, as though that was going to stop it, and quickly spoke. “No, not like that. I was talking about rage rooms and stuff. Controlled environments. You could still have fun there.”

Did they have rage rooms in Hermiton? He wasn’t sure, but this was not the moment to wonder about that. 

“Don’t worry, kid,” Helsknight responded. “I’ll have my fun, once I flay you and use your skin to decorate my room. I’ve been missing a good rug.”

Skizz, to the best of his ability, tried to mask a gulp. That man was hardcore, and the woman… if she was even a little bit like False, she also should not be messed with.

“You're not going to succeed.”

The voice came from behind Skizz, shaky yet projecting some confidence. Impulse had gathered enough courage to come out of hiding. He walked closer, but refused to go beyond the protective line that Ren, Skizz and Tango formed. Still he was afraid - the color hadn't fully returned to his face yet - and still, he approached, despite the mockery of their enemies.

“Is that a demon I see?” True said.

“You’re not going to win,” Impulse said, unwilling to interact with what True had just said. He, too, balled his fist as he drew his own sword with his other hand. “Victory will be ours. You can't stop this.”

“I'm not sure,” True said. “All I see is a traitor among enemies.”

 “Enough talking!” Helsknight said. He pushed the alchemist to the side, and she scrambled, crawled behind the table. His evil gaze fell on the party and a nasty grin appeared on his face. He opened his mouth one last time, to deliver a one-liner that he must've been thinking about for less than five minutes.

“You may have outsmarted the bad times, but you haven't seen nothing yet.”

Chapter Text

It all started way too quickly. One second, Skizz was looking at Helsknight and True - the False lookalike -  and the next, the two rushed forward to initiate combat. They forgot about the alchemist whose colleagues they’d killed and whom they forced to work on an antidote in favor of eliminating a threat. 

Fortunately, Skizz wasn’t alone - Tango, who was by no means a fighter, decided to rush past the two combatants and toward the alchemist, to help out in whatever way he could. In Zed’s absence, he was the de facto healer, with his cards and some vials and potions that Zed entrusted them before they parted ways. While Skizz drew his dagger - the one they gave him at the church -, Impulse clenched his own sword, ready for years of training to pay off. Ren, for his part, did not draw any weapon. Instead, he grew a couple of inches in size as hair began to cover every square inch of his skin. Within seconds, the former king had transformed into a bipedal humanoid wolf-like figure with sharp teeth and sharp claws to match.

So he was a werewolf. That actually kind of made sense.

Skizz didn’t have much time to think about it, for he and Impulse were immediately assaulted by the harpy.

She was fiercer than Skizz could have thought she was. He didn’t quite know what to expect - the only thing he knew about her was that she looked like False. Skizz had only seen her capture him in a net and drag him off, not even needing to use that sharp sword of hers to take him. She may have been holding back - and if she was, then True was a savage they needed to look out for.

Impulse stepped in before she could strike Skizz. Training kicked in and for a short time, Skizz could just watch as Impulse defended him. True was focused on Skizz, tried to get to him - yet, Impulse countered all of her attacks and was the one line of defense between her and Skizz. It actually was quite impressive to watch.

True spread her wings and flapped them, straight into Impulse. While he managed to land a blow, the wings did hit him, leaving him a little dazed. As soon as the wings pulled back, she swiftly pushed him aside. The momentum sent him to the side, stumbling over his own feet. Impulse fell, his sword clattering to the ground, and he didn’t immediately stand up.

As though in a movie, True slowly turned her head to look threateningly at Skizz, who nearly shat his pants.

Skizz grabbed his sword like a person who learned how to hold a sword one week ago and just remembered how to defend himself with it. It helped him all of two seconds as True barreled towards him and tackled him, knocking the sword out of his hands. It would've been described as ‘expertly’, but Skizz was a novice with a sword and it must have felt like taking candy from a baby.

Skizz fell on his back, hitting his head. It throbbed, and he was disoriented for a moment. He was pulled back into the present as True towered over him and thrust her sword.

A couple of things happened at once. First, Skizz screamed. Secondly, for a moment, it felt as though he was back in the snow, the grin of Badtimes widening as he plunged his sword into him. Except this time, Skizz could move and prevent it from happening.

He didn't roll out of the way. That might've been the smart thing to do. Instead, he instinctively grabbed the blade with his bare hands and physically held it back.

True did not relent. Her smart thing to do might have been to pull her sword back and try another attack. However, it seemed like her pride didn't allow her to do so. She pushed harder, but Skizz did not want to give her even an inch.

The sword cut into his hands, unsurprisingly. He didn't feel much about that, though. A now familiar numbness spread through his palms, slowly making its way to his wrists as blood poured out of the open wounds. That couldn't be good.

Skizz focused all of his attention on that blade. He didn't think of the numbness, or the blood, or the fact that Zed wasn't here to bring him back if True killed him. Instead, fire was on his mind. Fire, like the one that near-exploded in Skizz's face. Fire, like the one that burned Evil X's letter. Fire, so warm that it would hopefully melt the Netherite and make it unusable.

The sword, unfortunately, did not burn. That was not only a bummer, but his only plan. In the span of milliseconds, his focus changed to sheer panic - the same kind of panic that could incapacitate even the strongest and bravest of heroes. It washed over Skizz instantly and his breathing instantly became more ragged and quicker.

True saw the panic and pushed harder. The sword, however, did not pierce through the hands and into Skizz’s torso. Instead, the sword bent unnaturally in half.

She frowned, and so did Skizz. Quickly, she glanced around the room to see who could have done this. Impulse only now started to stir again, Tango had pulled out a card to help the alchemist out, and Ren still engaged with Helsknight in his werewolf form. As far as she knew or saw, nobody else in the room could have bent this sword.

Skizz realized the same thing, except he wasn’t looking at the room. He looked at his hands and tried to weaponize his panic. No more focus, just letting the panic run wild, all the while just staring at the bend in the sword that he may have caused.

He indeed had caused the bend, and with his rising panic and confidence, the sword bent even further. Fault lines seemed to appear on the sword, and it almost seemed to fold in on itself, twisted about 47 degrees to the right at the top and 125 degrees diagonally to the right at the bottom. The sharp edges peeled off as though someone cut through butter and fell off. 

Before True could even do something and turned her head back to the sword, it had become twisted to the point that her sharp Netherite blade was unusable. Skizz let go of the sword when True pulled it back, staring at it in disbelief and shock. Skizz barely paid attention to her face, more worried about his own wounds. He could barely feel his hands at this point and the edges of the wounds had become a sickly black. That wasn’t great.

What he also realized was the raw power within him. He looked up at the sword and a grin spread across his face. He could make his hands produce fire - or at least to set things on fire. Now, he could also change what an object looked like by holding it - he’d made True’s sword useless just by holding onto it, and that was awesome.

“Oh yeah!” he exclaimed, looking directly at True. How far could he push his luck? “Now turn around and go back where you came from! There’s plenty more where that came from.”

For a moment, True said and did nothing, and Skizz would like to believe that she was weighing her options.

She took a few steps back and turned her head to Helsknight.

“Helsknight!” she called out. “Fall back.”

“And leave empty-handed?” He swung at the werewolf, but Ren blocked it and it glanced off of him harmlessly. “Don’t think so.”

“Would you rather leave empty-handed, or as a corpse?” True asked him.

Helsknight was about to try and strike Ren again, 0but he faltered and aborted his attempt midway through. To avoid a claw from Ren, he jumped backwards and continued to back off, in the direction of True - though he did not seem to like it that much.

“Thought so,” she said. As Helsknight ran back to her, True fished something out of her pocket - something that looked like a small crystalline red orb that couldn’t be bigger than one inch in diameter. When Helsknight had reached True, she crushed the orb in her hand. Red mist escaped from it, enveloped her and Helsknight alike, now lost within that red haze. The mist vanished as soon as it had appeared, and their adversaries had disappeared.

The werewolf took a deep breath and he seemed to grow smaller. He shrunk back to his normal side, the hairs receding until the werewolf had made way for the former king again. 

“Is everyone okay?” Ren asked 

Silence filled the cavern. Impulse attempted to push himself back to his feet, saying nothing. Skizz glanced at his hands and back at Ren, also saying nothing. The motion was enough for Ren to figure out that Skizz likely may not be alright. Tango nodded as well, still near the alchemist to take care of her.

“She’ll be fine,” Tango said. “She didn’t get hurt, but…”

Tango trailed off, leaving the implications in their mind. It likely wasn’t too easy, to watch your colleagues be needlessly slaughtered. For some reason, this woman - who appeared to be human, alive and well - was chosen to be the sole survivor who would give Helsknight an antidote against… against the sculk, right? What did the minions of evil want with an antidote, and why did they choose to kill the others? Why did they even do this if they surprisingly shared a goal with the Undead Republic?

That might be something they could try to figure out once they had a bit more information.

For now, the adrenaline faded from Skizz's body and he ran up to Impulse. The demon had already gotten up and only now regained his footing, just in time to see Skizz running up to him.

“You were amazing, dude!” Skizz said. “I know you said you were good with a sword, but that was so cool.”

“Yeah… the perks of growing up in a society being trained for war, I guess,” Impulse responded, looking at Skizz. “I couldn’t quite see what was going on there, but, er… I mean, it looks like you fought against True and won. Now, that’s not something a lot of people can say. I wish I could say the same, but it seems I’m not that awesome.”

Impulse was seriously underselling himself. If the circumstances were just a little different, Skizz would launch into a ten-minute monologue covering why you shouldn’t be harsh on yourself, the harm you cause when you do so, and then add something specific about Impulse’s situation to not only make him feel better but hopefully give him the right tools to gain a bit more confidence.

Then again, True did violently push him aside and Impulse overestimated Skizz’s abilities. He didn’t quite fight True - he just survived her for long enough. Big difference there.

“Might’ve looked awesome, but it didn’t feel that way.” He glanced down at his hands. It still hurt, it still had that Netherite residue and his hands were getting a bit numb. That couldn’t be a good sign. 

He lifted the palms of his hands to show Impulse. “We need to do something about this. Before, y’know, my hands fall off or something.”

He wasn’t quite sure what the Netherite would do to his hands. All he knew was that it likely wasn’t going to be pleasant. At all.

“Oh, here!” 

Everyone turned their heads to Tango. He was holding a vial into the air, which Ren came to fetch and bring over to where Skizz was standing next to Impulse.

“Zed gave us parting gifts, remember?” Tango said. “I’m so glad he did. You just need to apply that on the wound, that should help.”

Ren wanted to give the vial to Skizz, but given his wounds, that would be impossible. Instead, Impulse took the vial and applied the ointment on Skizz’s hands. Instantly he could feel the relief it provided. It would’ve immediately heal the wounds, but at the very least it would quell whatever Netherite infection tried to worm its way through his body. They were rather quickly this time and the wound that applied the withering effect wasn’t deadly in itself, so Skizz felt rather confident that he would survive. Even if it would take for his hands to heal.

Skizz said nothing, allowed Impulse to do his work. It distracted both of them from what they had just survived. In the meantime, Ren walked to the alchemist. Tango scooted aside to have Ren kneeled down next to them.

“Are you alright?” he asked the shaken alchemist. She nodded, unable to say anything just yet.

“She will be. Couldn’t find any injuries. She just needs some time.”

“Perhaps more than some,” Ren corrected Tango. He placed a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“You’re welcome,” Tango said. He took this as an invitation to step away, to allow Ren to take care of the woman in his employ; Tango stood up and then walked over to Skizz, where Impulse was just finishing with putting the oil on Skizz’s hands.

“Skizz,” Tango began, “are you–”

“Still hurts a bit, but I’m okay,” Skizz announced. He was gonna live. No need for Zed to bring him back from the dead. Again. The memory had already faded, but it hadn’t given him any bad feelings. It may not be as bad as he thought it had been, but that was no excuse to try to let it happen again. He came back from the dead once, and he wasn’t planning on making that a habit. It made a shiver run down his spine, settling in his shoulder blades…

Wait, no. That was just the itch.

“In unrelated news,” Skizz continued, “my back is itching again, so…”

So his wings - what little stubs they were - were acting up again. Growing. How long until they were fully grown, then? It would be nice to know, so he could practice with them when he needed to. But so far, they weren’t even big enough to warrant wearing specialized clothing that facilitated these wings. Oh, he was not looking forward to having to rip more holes into his suit and shirt.

Okay, he was totally willing to do that, but that didn’t mean he was actually looking forward to it. He only had one suit, y’know, and he’d already lost the sleeves. Best to keep it preserved for as long as he was able to.

“The threat has gone,” Ren said, breaking the silence. “We should leave, too. Melia needs to be returned home.”

Home. Back through the tunnels to return to the capital city, where the few colleagues who stayed behind were waiting. And, hopefully, a pretty good psychologist for Melia. Probably couldn’t be good for her to watch these minions slaughter her colleagues - some of whom were likely friends - and set them back on their research. Hopefully, she’d also get a raise and a period to just rest and not have to work. She deserved that much after this .

“Sounds good.” Skizz was more than ready to leave these horrible caves behind him. And to get the promised aid from the Undead Republic.

All the while, his back itched.

Chapter Text

The road back to the Undead Republic’s capital city was as eventful and interesting as it had been to travel this far. That is to say, it wasn’t eventful at all and the journey itself was rather monotonous beyond the conversations they initiated with one another. Skizz, Tango, Impulse and Ren tried to engage the scientist in their company, to try to distract her from the horrors that she had witnessed. Still, she said very little, and Ren focused on getting them through the tunnels without triggering any nearby sculk, so the burden of conversation fell to Skizz’s little team.

Skizz couldn’t quite keep himself focused. The general itching on his back, where his wings were growing, had become more of an ache than an itch. One that didn’t hurt, but it was rather annoying and he didn’t know how to get rid of it. It had grown into that ache since they started traveling back to the prime minister.

A thought had popped up into his mind: every time that his wings had a growth spurt, he’d used some sort of magic, or strong magic had been used around him. That necklace, for what it was worth, was rather useless. Why had they insisted he wore it again? Who had wanted him to wear it again? Because it certainly wasn’t doing what it was supposed to be doing. Perhaps it was too late to return it and ask for a new one, especially now that he was growing wings - which shouldn’t have happened - at a quicker pace than it should have been.

In any case, Skizz couldn’t come to a conclusion. The distractions for the scientist also served as a distraction from his ache. Impulse didn’t suspect a thing, while Tango gave Skizz some suspicious looks. Perhaps he did realize that something was going on, but he said nothing. Good, because Skizz wasn’t ready to explain any of that right now.

Also, the bat. It had witnessed the battle, it witnessed them leave, and it flew back. It flew away, out of sight. Skizz had a feeling they wouldn’t be seeing that bat again. Or vampire, if it indeed was one.

They stopped at a resting cavern, where they were the only ones to set up camp. Ren ensured that the scientist had everything she needed, while Skizz, Impulse and Tango set up their little camp. As these resting caverns were considered safe spaces, they didn’t need to set up a guard system. Everyone could just rest the way they wanted or needed to, and all would be well by the time the morning came - even if it was difficult to say what was morning in the Undead Republic.

Well, almost everything would be well.

The ache expanded its reach, going all the way to his nerves and his back. It made Skizz nauseous, it made him go to bed earlier, it generally was not a great feeling to have. It almost felt like he was growing extra limbs, now more so than ever. He could feel things he could never feel before, and moving those phantom limbs felt stranger than anything he had ever felt, especially as they appeared to be restrained by something, limiting their overall movement. 

A fever dream - that had to be it. This was the definition of a fever dream, where he dreamed he grew strange restrained phantom limbs he couldn’t move well. All the while, the ache expanded ever outward, leaving him balancing on the edge between being awake and being asleep.

The familiar sound of his suit’s fabric tearing alerted him that this may not be a fever dream after all.

He sat up. The nausea had gone, but the ache stayed, even if its effects had lessened. Those phantom limbs were still there, but this time, it no longer felt like they were restrained. Most disturbingly, as he looked over his shoulder to see if he was truly imagining those limbs, he noticed two wings, one broader and a little shorter than the other, dark blue veins running across a set of transparent membranes.

He turned his head. He had those on the other side as well.

An ungodly loud shriek came from Skizz. It filled the cavern, echoed around and out of the cavern, into the tunnels they had come from and those they would go through in the morning. If anyone else was already asleep, they weren’t anymore, and all attention went to him.

“Could you keep it down?” Ren asked in a lower tone. “There could be sculk–”

The werewolf cut himself off, probably because he was able to see the wings that had torn through his suit and now protruded from his back.

“Skizz?” That was Impulse. He, too, stopped in his tracks when he noticed the dragonfly wings. “Oh.”

Skizz only regained his words when Tango came into view. Tango, who knew he was gaining wings and who had heard about the stubs that Skizz had been growing. It didn’t help Skizz that the way Tango was looking at him was one of bewilderment.

“They’re big now,” Skizz said, stumbling over words. He wanted to point at them, but touched them instead. Gosh, they felt weird. “Is that– that’s how that’s supposed to happen, right?”

“Yeah…” Tango said, drawing out that one word for quite a while. At the same time, he was nodding and didn’t seem to be able to stop. “Yeah, that’s - yeah.”

Impulse regained his composure and stepped a little closer. “Demon wings grow a little more, er, gradually than that.” Skizz wasn’t sure what Impulse was trying to do, but if relating this event to experiences he knew about in the past helped, then sure buddy, go for it.  “How big were they before?”

“Last we checked, the palm of Zed’s hand.”

Zed had been following up on the changes closely, and had measured one final time before they left for the alchemist camp. He hadn’t been certain whether measuring something by the palms of a hand would help, but it appeared quite helpful in this situation. Especially when they were now bigger than the palm of Zed’s hand.

“That’s very quick, then,” Impulse remarked, awkwardly unsure what else to do or say.

“Are you okay?” Tango then asked.

Good question. Was he okay?

“Yes. I think.” He glanced to his sides again, where he could see the wings poking out into his field of vision. Thinking about whether he was okay laid bare all the complicated emotions whirling around inside. What was he feeling? What did he want to feel in this situation?

“It’s a little weird, y’know,” he continued. “I was looking forward to getting them, but I wasn’t expecting them to pop out fully grown, like, two minutes ago!” He’d hoped for a more gradual growth, but oh well. He blamed the necklace not doing its job. “It’s - I mean, they are fully grown, right?”

He turned around in a 360, to show off the wings. Afterwards, he looked expectantly at his friends.

“They look fully grown to me,” Tango said, and Impulse nodded. Skizz had no choice but to believe them. He could already tell that he would scream again if they grew even bigger than they did now. 

“Okay. Now what?” That was the next big question. “Wasn’t really expecting them so soon…”

“Don’t worry about them,” Impulse said. “I’ve got wings, too. Yes, they’re a little different, but the same principles do still apply. If you want, once we’re out of these caves, I could give you some flying lessons, so you can get the hang of it.”

Skizz nodded. “I’d love that!”

Impulse beamed, happy that a suggestion he made was useful. Skizz couldn’t wait for the flying lessons and, from the look on his face, neither could Impulse. That was gonna be fun!

“Maybe that’s something we can discuss tomorrow.”

Everyone turned their heads to Ren and the scientist, who had just been watching the scene without saying a word. Ren looked a little confused, while the scientist took in everything she saw with an equally curious and analytical gaze. Neither of them probably had any idea what was going on with him.

“We've still got a day's travel ahead of us. We don't know how far the sculk has spread. We need our rest.”

The scientist nodded. She had been fast asleep before the commotion and looked exhausted. After everything she's seen, she had lost a lot of energy. She definitely needed that rest.

Not just her. Everyone else needed it, too, even if she needed it the most.

Everyone went back to sleep. Skizz tried to sleep, but the wings made it a little difficult to find a comfortable position. No, that was an understatement, they made it quite difficult to find a comfortable position. Another thing that a gradual growth would have made a lot easier. He ought to consider himself lucky that sleep eventually took him so that he still had had a few hours.

But the morning came eventually, and the group had to set out again. All the while, Impulse stayed close to Skizz. The demon sometimes pierced through the silence to give some quick tips to Skizz, often sounding like he just thought of that little tidbit and how it could be useful for Skizz. Skizz listened with an open mind and an open heart, though he would likely have to ask Impulse again at some point. For the time being, he listened, nodded, and his mind trailed to where it truly was: the wings themselves.

The feeling itself was odd. It might be because he was feeling tired - not having enough sleep definitely weighed on him - but it was just an odd situation altogether. He was glad to have the wings, but he never thought it would feel like this. For now, while the wings were rather new, it felt like he’d grown a couple of new limbs that he didn’t quite know what to do with or how to hold them. He had felt some of those burgeoning nerves when they were the size of Zed’s hand, but the explosive growth had not helped this strange feeling. He’d have to get used to it while having those wings, and that was just weird.

It would also be weird to have these wings and not being able to fly, but that was something they could remedy as soon as they had reached the surface again.

Ren masterfully guided them through the tunnels, the same as he had done on their way to the camp. Beyond that one patch of sculk they’d come across previously, they did not encounter any sculk this time around, and they were able to use the wider tunnels. The most interesting thing that happened on the way back was that they came across a cart, pulled by skeleton oxen and driven by a zombie merchant. It greeted them with a moan - the poor thing’s mouth had almost fully rotten away - as they crossed paths, the zombie going in the opposite direction as Skizz and the others. For a brief moment, it distracted Skizz from what had demanded his attention this entire time, and Skizz wondered how this zombie merchant was able to sell their wares if they weren’t able to speak. He also wondered how the oxen were able to pull a cart, especially since they were literally skeletons and, by all logic, shouldn’t be able to pull anything at all.

He should stop trying to fit his homeworld’s logic into this one, because that kind of logic clearly didn’t apply here.

At long last, the tunnel sloped upwards and a chilly breeze greeted them. Skizz imagined what it would be like, to step out of the tunnel and to be greeted with the warm sunlight on his skin. Oh, it would be awesome! Except when they exited the tunnel, the same gray clouds that had been there before apathetically drifted above their heads. Oh well. The disappointment in his chest was on him, as he was the one who hyped himself up while he should have known that the sun was only right outside the Republic’s borders.

Now that they were back on the surface, the journey seemed to go so much faster! Probably because they could actually see where they were going instead of only seeing ahead to the next corner. The capital city in the distance grew bigger and bigger until they walked back between the houses, straight to the Palace.

The suits of armor were not a problem this time around. They noticed Ren and immediately allowed him and anyone traveling with him to enter the Palace. Back to the intimidating interiors, past that painting that sent shivers down Skizz’s spine, and back to the main office of the Prime Minister.

Ren opened the door without announcing himself. The door swung open and Ren just walked in.

“Cleo, we have returned!”

It would have been awkward if Cleo hadn’t been there. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), the Prime Minister was sitting at their desk. The paperwork on their desk didn’t seem to have diminished at all, and they lifted their head, a pen in their hand as they saw Ren, the Chosen one, and everyone else filter into their office.

“I can see that,” they responded in a dry manner. It reminded Skizz that Cleo may be difficult to read, if they continued to use that deadpan, dry, near-sarcastic voice. They put their papers aside to give their full attention to the visitors. “So, how did it go?”

“The situation is dire,” Ren said. The group allowed him to tell the tale, only volunteering extra information when Ren directly asked for it. The whole time, he used a serious tone, giving each word the weight that it deserved. 

The scientist also remained silent, her gaze in the middle distance. Either she was disassociating, or she was caught in that memory, as it had grabbed her and made her relive that. In fact, Skizz saw something in her eyes. They appeared to be glazed over, but in a way that it actually looked like she was blind - or at least, how the blind were portrayed in movies, the eyes almost all white. Was that what it looked like to be caught in a living memory? The way Tango helped shake her out of it, and how that glaze disappeared soon after, at the very least confirmed that this was a living memory in the making. Which brought with it a whole lot of other questions, especially considering what decided where a living memory would settle and whether some could actually cling to people, to settle somewhere away from the traumatic memory site. These logistics almost made his head spin.

He missed most of Ren’s explanation as a result. Cleo, however, listened carefully to her right-hand man, her face sour when Ren mentioned Helsknight and True. It helped to illustrate how big the threat of the Evil Empire was, and Skizz - for one brief selfish moment - hoped that helped push the prime minister to help him.

“What were they doing to our people?” she asked. “What did they think they could accomplish?”

“An antidote for those who have come into contact with the sculk,” Ren responded. “We caught them forcing Melia to create this.”

Cleo remained silent for a little while. Soon, she started to shake her head, utter disappointment and resentment in her eyes.

“They could have waited,” she said, more to herself and Ren than to her guests. “Do they think we’re not spending all available resources to develop that? They could have not slaughtered our scientists and alchemists and waited .”

She almost spat out the final word.

Skizz stepped forward, hopefully not making her more angry with his words. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save them. They were dead before we arrived.”

He could almost see the corpses in front of him - almost. He wouldn’t let the memory jump from the scientist to himself. No way another living memory, no matter how recent, was going to jump him. What was more prominent was an itch on the palms of his hands. They still looked rough from when he foolishly grabbed the blade of True’s Netherite blade. It was healing nicely, but it was still feeling numb in places and he was certain that some of those wounds would remain as scars.

“You helped Melia survive,” Cleo responded, in a kinder tone than before. “That’s more than we could have hoped for, given the circumstances. Thank you.”

Skizz nodded. “You’re welcome.”

“Now…” Cleo sighed. “Ren, we can discuss the best course of action going forward later today.  First, we need to discuss the deal.”

What was she talking about? She was looking directly at Skizz - if she had been confused about the wings, she never showed it. He could feel his own anxiety rising, worried that she would follow it up by telling him that the deal was off. He’d already not presented the best version of himself the first time around, might as well.

“Yeah… we couldn’t fulfill the mission, I know.”

Cleo raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“We had to help your people, right?” Skizz said. “Well, we only managed to save one. That… I mean, to be completely correct about the situation, doesn’t that mean we failed our end of the deal?”

“I asked that you accompany Ren to the camp where we last heard from our people. I never said you had to save them.”

Now that was something Skizz hadn’t been expecting. “So, you’re keeping your end of the deal?”

“Skizz, you and your friends have literally done everything in your power to help. That is enough,” Cleo said. “I will uphold the deal. I’ll create puppets for you to attack the Evil Empire with.

“Sweet!” Skizz instinctively said, pumping his fists in the air. The next second he remembered he was in the presence of a prime minister and attempted to regain his composure. “Thank you so much. I won’t make you regret it, I promise.”

Cleo nodded once, slowly. It was difficult to tell whether they were being genuine or already second-guessing themself. 

“I have been thinking about what could be the most efficient,” Cleo continued. “You said you were still gathering your forces?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Now they had support from the Undead Republic, it was time to move their gaze southward. They had to see what other nations had to offer. Perhaps the Ice Kingdom would be visited last, but that was more than okay. He wasn't looking forward to going back there anytime soon.

Cleo nodded once. “Then I’ll wait with the delivery until you have gathered those forces and are ready to attack. They stay here and they won’t be a target because you won’t be here. What do you think?”

“That…” he paused for a second, letting the words sink in. “That's actually a really good plan.”

Selfishly, Skizz also thought about the responsibilities. If the puppets stayed here for as long as possible, that would mean Skizz wouldn’t be responsible for them until the big day finally came. He didn't believe that he was ready for that kind of responsibility. He wasn't even fully sure about being the Chosen One, but that was something extremely difficult to shake off. He wished he could sometimes do that, though.

“One more thing,” Skizz said. “Where's Zed?”

They could have guessed that Zedaph was in the lab. Of course. Where else would he be? At least the palace had given him a room to stay in as well, though they had no idea whether Zedaph would have actually used it or not. Knowing him, he might have chosen to stay in a far-off corner where he would be most out of the way of the other alchemists that had stayed behind.

In any case, speculating about what Zedaph had done while they were away did nothing. Instead, Skizz, Impulse and Tango just walked to the lab after being given directions. As soon as they had picked up Zedaph, they were supposed to be leaving, off to their next destination.

Where would that be? Let’s first get Zed and worry about it a little later.

Fortunately, they found Zed rather quickly. They didn’t even need to get into the lab to find him. Instead, he was waiting at its front door, his backpack swung over his shoulders, ready to go - they must have given him a heads-up as soon as Skizz, Impulse and Tango arrived at the palace, otherwise he would not have been standing there.

“Zed!” Tango called out as soon as they saw their alchemist from around the corner. “We’re here!”

“I can see that,” Zed responded. His eyes grew wide as soon as Skizz came into view. He immediately rushed over, his full attention on the wings that Skizz had sprouted in Zed’s absence. “Hello, look at you! Your wings have grown!”

“Oh, they have!” The experience in itself hadn’t been great, but the more Skizz got used to them, the more they felt right. “What do you think about them?”

“These wings fit you wonderfully,” Zed said, his analytical gaze fully inspecting the membrane and the veins on one side. Skizz could see him having to hold back on asking all the questions that were swirling inside his mind. “I’ve heard it takes a while to get the hang of, but you’ll definitely be able to do it. I’m sure of it.”

“And if not,” Impulse added. “I’ll be here to help.”

“Thanks, guys!”

In that moment, the sense of friendship overwhelmed him. Each of these three guys he was now traveling with was an absolute delight to make this journey with. Even if Impulse had only been here for a little while, Skizz could already tell they were going to get on extremely easily. If their conversations in the tunnels were anything to go off of, they would all be fine.

Now that they had reunited with Zed, they left the palace behind. The iron gate shut behind them and they walked down the streets, back towards the Lore Kingdom. The mood, Skizz was happy to report, was happier and lighter than it had been when they first arrived here. Skizz had fully forgiven his friends for keeping the other chosen one a secret - they didn’t do it with malice in their hearts, or perhaps they simply forgot, but they had no ill intent towards Skizz. That was more than enough.

He was going to be different than this other chosen one, though. No way he was dying to Helsknight. He’d already died to Badtimes once, he wasn’t planning on dying again. That, and he accepted the help that he so desperately needed. He wasn’t going to do this alone, and this little team that they assembled was a great team. Now, what to call their team?

But first, they had a bigger problem to identify.

“So, where do we go next?” Tango asked, itching to leave this place. “Ice Kingdom? The Jungle or the Wildlands? Pirate Archipelago?”

“There’s pirates here?” Somehow, Skizz hadn’t expected that. Tango opened his mouth to respond, but Skizz stopped him. “No, don’t answer that. I know the answer.”

The answer being: pirates co-existed alongside everything else that Hermiton had to offer. Based on his knowledge about pirates from all the movies and series he’d watched, he knew he didn’t really want to go there, nor did he expect those folks to be willing to help him either. If he had to guess, the pirates may like the plans of Evil X better, whatever they were. Beyond that, the Ice Kingdom was an immediate ‘heck no, not in a million years’ where a million years meant ‘let’s leave that one for last’. The Jungle was… well, Skizz wasn’t exactly excited to go back there, nor could he see how they would help. Had they discussed the benefits of contacting the Jungle guardians before? If they had, Skizz had completely forgotten about it. The Wildlands were something he was wholly unfamiliar with, but if it was lumped in with the Jungle, then Skizz wasn’t too keen on finding out what awaited there, either.

That didn’t leave a whole lot of places they could go. Except for the Fire Plains, but that was a wasteland and Tango may not want to go back there. So, where could they even go?

Skizz’s mind looped back to the pirates, and that thought he had. They may like Evil X’s plans better - but what were those plans? What was he doing, what was he planning? He was raising an army, according to Impulse’s stories, but to what end? At that moment, Skizz realized he knew very little about the enemy he was supposed to defeat, and he figured that Zedaph and Tango had no real idea either. Though Impulse was raised there, no important information was shared with him, either, as a lowly foot soldier.

“What about…” Skizz began, looking at the demon. “Impulse, you said you could get us into the Evil Empire, didn’t you?”

Impulse nodded. “Yeah, I could.”

“Skizz,” Tango then said. “You don’t really want to go there, do you?”

Skizz could almost feel the disappointment drip from the voice. Why would he want to go to the one place where everyone wanted him dead? A good question, yes. Though he understood Tango’s caution, he had already made up his mind.

“We don’t know what it’s like up there!” he argued. “I mean, other than Impulse.”

“I am familiar with my home, yes,” Impulse responded. Only some of the initial excitement from their first meeting remained, as most of it had been replaced with the same caution that Tango showed. That was understandable - Skizz obviously knew the place would be dangerous.

“As for me, I don’t know anything about the place,” Skizz continued. “Nothing about from before Evil X moved in, or what happened afterward. Does anyone here - other than Impulse - even know anything from after Evil X moved in that Impulse hasn’t told us? Because from what he’s said, the borders were closed pretty much as soon as he called it his home. If no demon knows what’s going on in the rest of the world, then perhaps the rest of the world doesn’t know what’s going on there, either. How am I supposed to defeat this great evil if I don’t know what they’re capable of?”

None of his friends said anything. Of course they didn’t, because what Skizz was saying was - presumably - true. Neither Tango nor Zedaph knew what was happening in the Evil Empire, and what they did know, they learned from Impulse. Impulse, on his end, barely knew anything about the outside world. It appeared that Skizz’s theory was correct.

“And about Evil X - does anyone even know anything about him? I keep hearing that he’s evil and he did send me a threatening letter, but do we know what he’s all about? What does he want? What’s he got?”

Another question, followed by some more silence. Tango and Zedaph couldn’t answer, and Impulse had only one fact to share after he thought about it for a bit.

“He’s got a hot tub,” Impulse said.

Skizz frowned, as did Tango. “A hot tub?”

“ Very interesting,” Zed said, nodding.

Impulse turned to Skizz. “Oh, a hot tub is–”

“I know what a hot tub is!” He may not have owned one in his homeworld, but he would have loved to have one. Impulse frowned a little at Skizz’s reaction, and Skizz quickly clarified. “We’ve got hot tubs in my world, too. I just… It didn’t cross my mind that they could exist in Hermiton, too.”

He left some more silence, to see whether any of his friends could add to the list of what they knew about Evil X. However, the silence spoke louder than any words could.

“Anyway, is that it?” Skizz said after a while. “We only know that he has a hot tub?”

“It seems to,” Tango said.

“I tried to figure out a little more before I left,” Impulse shared. “I, er… I got caught and sent away. I knew I had to leave home shortly after that. I’m pretty sure they would have killed me.”

Well, that wouldn’t have been great. Already, Skizz wouldn’t know what to do with Impulse around. He was a good guy to have around, and a great friend and member of their team. Then again, he wouldn’t really have known what a team without Impulse would look like moving forward from this point in time if Impulse hadn’t been around. They would never know, as the days of a three-member party was over. It was officially a four-member party now.

“Okay, then it’s settled!” Skizz said. “Let’s go to the Evil Empire and see if we can’t find out some more about the place and Evil X!”

Chapter Text

Skizz didn’t know how much he’d missed the sun until she shone upon his skin again. He almost outstretched his naked arms up to the sun, to let them bask in her light and warmth, but that may look a little weird, so he stopped himself in time. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like his friends had noticed, each of them enjoying the warmth and light in their own way.

They didn’t dwell too much on this, however. They still needed to do some adventuring. Instead of reporting back to Joel back at the Lore Kingdom, they decided to make a quick detour to the Evil Empire. The quick, few-days-long extremely dangerous detour that in hindsight may not prove the safest place to go. 

Yet, Skizz’s interest in the forces of evil trumped any sense of self-preservation that wasn’t kicking in just yet because he was still too far from that point. Though Impulse provided a lot of information, how was he supposed to defeat a great evil if he had never seen it? Yes, this Evil X had sent him a threatening letter, but that was the extent of their communication. Not that Skizz would want to meet Evil X before he knew one hundred and twelve percent that he was ready to do so. No, he just wanted to jump over there and see what Evil X was up to. Would always be helpful.

What would also be helpful was a good teacher.

As they traveled from the Undead Republic to the mountain range that separates the Evil Empire from most of Hermiton, some of that time was spent focusing on Skizz and those wings of his.

Since Impulse was the only other person in their company with wings, he naturally gravitated to trying to teach Skizz all about flying. It would be even more helpful if Impulse spoke in ways that Skizz could a) understand, and b) transfer into actionable things that he knew how to do.

It still felt rather awkward. He no longer likened his new wings to new arms that just suddenly sprouted from his back, though it still felt like it. Large, unwieldy wings that he needed to learn how to move to that he could fly in the long term. That would be rather neat, wouldn’t it, if those wings were able to do something for him instead of just being there and looking as pretty as they always did.

Skizz started with the basics: hovering. Just flapping those wings (was the right verb still flapping if they were dragonfly wings? He wasn’t sure) so that he could stay in place. Turns out that demon wings needed fewer flaps than whatever a dragonfly needed. So, once they figured out that the speed did matter, Skizz tried moving them a little faster. His full focus went into the wings, into the tension on his back and the strangest sensation that came from the use of his wings. For a second, he believed that he might strain or break one of them.

The next second, he slowly rose off of the ground. A feet or so into the air, his feet no longer touching the dirt path that sloped upward which they had been following.

“That’s it!” Impulse exclaimed,a proud smile on his face. “You’re doing it! Just like that.” A little while away, Tango watched with folded arms and a curious look, while Zed stood nearby and seemed to analyze every little thing that Skizz was doing.

“I don’t feel like I’m doing anything right,” Skizz responded. He was just moving those wings as quickly as he could, and this was the result. Was this even the right way to do this?

“You’re flying!” Zed said. “You couldn’t do that a few days ago. That’s progress!”

Progress or not, that didn’t mean Skizz knew what the next step was. Which was, how to safely stop flying without unintentionally falling on his butt.

“I can’t get down,” Skizz announced. “I need some help. Please pull me down.”

Zed and Impulse reacted almost immediately. They grabbed him at his waist and his legs and pulled him down. As soon as Skizz’s feet hit the ground again, he instantly stopped the wings and was also instantly hit with a dizzy spell. Perhaps they should indeed try to figure out a way to slowly stop the wings and not just stop all at once. Fortunately, his friends were nearby and were able to catch him. He hadn’t even realized he was about to fall, but Zed caught him.

“We’ll find a way to get you to zoom across the sky,” Impulse said. “It’s only flying.”

“Don’t tell me it's just like riding a bike, because that's… that's kind of what it feels like, actually.”

He wasn’t sure where his mind was going with the allegory initially, but it kinda was like riding a bike. At least, that’s what it felt like to him. It was a skill he wasn’t born with, something that he needed to learn but which - if he knew it - would be a great skill to have and use regularly. 

“I was actually going to say it’s just like crawling,” Impulse said. “Or swallowing, or breathing.”

“So it’s supposed to come naturally,” Skizz took from Impulse’s words. He wasn’t too happy with the answer, but he could kind of understand where Impulse was coming from. His wings likely grew early on in his life so that he had time to acclimatize and grow alongside them. He was certain that Impulse didn’t suddenly have a set of fully-grown wings that he needed to learn to use as quickly as possible.

Looking at Tango, he likely had the same questions. “Were you born with your wings?”

Impulse nodded. “Yeah, I was.”

“Ah.” That did explain a lot. Of course it felt like crawling to him, he developed those skills naturally because he was born with those wings. That didn’t take away from the fact that he was trying to teach Skizz in a way that he was familiar with, which may not be what Skizz needed.

“It doesn’t help me all that much,” Skizz responded. “At least I can hover in place. That’s indeed something. Now for the part where I can actually move when I’m in the air.”

“We’ll get there, no worries,” Zed said. “You’ll learn how to do it.”

“Eventually.”

That was the keyword to Skizz. Eventually. Wouldn’t it be great if he could just rise in the air and be a natural? But no, that would apparently be too easy, even for this world’s sometimes dubious standards about what is and isn’t possible. At some point in the future, he would know how to fly. Until then, he would have to continue to put time in - which he would gladly do, obviously, he’d work hard to gain this skill if that was what was required of him. Until then, he would have to fail. Every time he did it again, he would fail a little less until he was able to fly as well as Impulse was. Even if Impulse preferred to walk around.

The road they followed sloped upward, guiding travelers closer to the mountains. At some point, there would be some sort of fork in the road. There, they had the choice to go deeper into the mountains and into the Evil Empire, or to continue following the road to the Wildlands. Skizz believed the road to the Wildlands would be better traveled than the one to the Evil Empire - who would even want to go there?

Or, rather, what kind of sane person would even want to go there?

Skizz had his reasons, and he was lucky enough that three other people felt brave enough to make that journey with him. Honestly, without them, he wouldn’t really know what to do. How did that previous Chosen One even do it without any help? She must be extremely capable to do all of that. 

She could have used some help fighting Helsknight, too. Nobody was perfect, and neither was she.

All the while, Skizz looked around as they traveled. Again, the clear divide between what was Evil Empire territory and what belonged to something else was rather clear. Especially when, on one side of the road, plants appeared to be growing normally and on the other, the few bushes with yellow-brown leaves stubbornly tried to hold onto them for as long as they could. The merest touch might make it disintegrate.

As he took in his surroundings and the environment, his eye fell on a little campsite just off of the side of the road, on the lush side. It might as well be a little pocket of the Evil Empire that had crossed the road, as everything within a few feet was barren. An old campfire, which hasn’t been lit in a while, still held the ashes of its last use, the tent that stood there abandoned , torn apart to the point that a few pieces of fabric had become the wind’s playthings. What drew his attention the most, however, was likely where someone would’ve sat close to the campfire, now the most concentrated spot of small crystal protruding from the ground.

Crystals, such as he’s seen only once before.

Skizz had stopped walking, and so did his friends. 

“Guys, you’re seeing those things, too, right?” He pointed out the crystals on the ground. The longer he stared at the abandoned campsite, the more of these crystals he spotted, randomly popping out of the ground.

“What?” Impulse wondered. His gaze followed Skizz’s finger. “Oh, those…”

“They kinda look like the ones from the Ice Kingdom, don’t they?” 

Skizz wanted to hear their second opinion. Mostly, he just wanted to hear that he wasn’t crazy. That he didn’t equate these crystals to the ones in the Ice Kingdom because that was where he died and those were the crystals he remembered best. For all he knew, there were different types of crystals that he didn’t know about and in that case, he didn’t want to mistake them for the cold, magic-sucking ones they had steered clear of as long as they had to trudge through ice and snow.

Tango tilted his head. “Maybe a little bit…”

Zed shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Impulse just looked a little lost and confused. “There’s an Ice Kingdom?”

“There is,” Skizz said. He walked closer to the crystals. They were small and it appeared safe to walk onto the campsite. Since nothing happened to him, his friends also approached as closely as they felt was safe. Zed, like Skizz, focused his attention on the crystals, while Tango and Impulse inspected the remnants of the campsite. “I do think these may be from there…”

“They’re not necessarily connected!” Zed argued.

Skizz knelt down and touched one of the crystals before anyone could stop him. This one couldn’t be bigger than the palm of his head. When he placed his fingers against it, he could feel the inherent cold within. However, he didn’t feel the innate drain of magic that he was expecting. Perhaps these were too small to do such a thing yet.

“I mean, they’re cold to the touch,” Skizz said, as though that was all the arguments he needed.

“All minerals are initially cold to the touch,” Zed said. He pressed his hands together and launched into an explanation. “We have seen this natural phenomenon within the Ice Kingdom and the crystals that have been growing there, yes, but they have found a unique location within Hermiton to do so. It doesn’t make sense that they would be growing here, in the remnants of a campsite. Unless it does and I could be overlooking something big, but I don’t think I am. If these crystals could grow anywhere, we would see them everywhere.”

“This place has been abandoned for a while,” Tango offered up some information. “Looks like at least a couple of months old.”

Skizz was impressed that Tango and Impulse were able to figure that out in such a short amount of time. Right when he was about to ask how they determined how old the camp was, Zed jumped in.

“Oh, then this definitely isn’t connected to the Ice Kingdom,” Zed explained. “You see, when the crystals at the Ice Kingdom first appeared, they came out in full force. Those crystals have been noted to grow exponentially fast until they reach what we call their greatest density point, from which they can’t grow or expand any further. This is a process that has been said to last as little as a week. The ones over here are tiny in comparison.”

“Alright, Zed, I believe you,” Skizz said. Whatever Zed was saying sounded plausible. He seemed knowledgeable about the subject, whereas Skizz was still just a visitor trying to learn the inherent rules of this world. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t. I know nothing of the stuff.”

“It was an interesting explanation,” Impulse admitted. He had been listening just as interestedly as Skizz, perhaps even a little more interested than Skizz.

“Thank you!” Zed said, proud of both his explanation and the fact that he taught his friends something.

“Do any of you mind if I take one?” Skizz asked his friends.

Impulse shook his head, warily looking at the crystals. “That might not be the best idea.”

“Somehow, I’m agreeing with the demon,” Tango said.

“You shouldn’t do such a thing,” Zed said, already pulling something out of his backpack. “Allow me to do it instead. I’ve got the metaphorical magic touch and very real experience.”

Without waiting for Skizz’s approval or Tango and Impulse’s disapproval, Zed focused on the nearest patch of those small crystal growths and methodically started to remove one from the ground.

“Why don’t you want us to take one?” Skizz asked.

“It seems dangerous to carry around. We don’t know what it is,” Impulse responded. “Why do you want one so badly? We don’t know what it does.”

“That’s just it, really. Because we don’t know what it does. It’s something weird in this world, a little side mystery to solve!” Though, by the way Zed was looking at it, perhaps it seemed more like a mystery for Zed to solve. 

“Also, if this is anything like what’s in the Ice Kingdom, maybe it’ll work better than that necklace.” It would be great to enhance the properties, especially if it appears they had the same properties. Skizz didn’t want to have to upgrade that necklace, but if it helped protect him from magic, then that might be something to look into.

“Also also, to compare it to what’s in the Ice Kingdom,” Skizz concluded. If they ever even had to get back there. Likely, if they could ask for support.

Impulse’s excitement grew a little. “Oh, so you wanna go back there?”

“No! Absolutely not!” Skizz reacted instinctively. There was no way he wanted to go back there. It was cold and miserable and there they fought Badtimes and it wasn’t fun because the dude killed Skizz, so it was a whole thing. The longer Skizz stayed away from the Ice Kingdom, the better.

As a result of this reaction, Impulse’s excitement waned. For a moment, Skizz wondered what that was about. Then he realized Impulse had no idea about the Ice Kingdom at all and likely wanted to visit this new place. Well, tough luck, because as long as he traveled with Skizz, he’d have to wait until it was absolutely necessary to go there. He’d have to be patient. Hopefully, he would be.

Zed finished taking a few of those crystals from the ground, having put them in safe containers and vials. As soon as he stowed them in his backpack, they were ready to continue their journey to the Evil Empire.

On the way, Impulse told them what to expect of the road. Apparently, this was the same road that he used to escape the Evil Empire from. According to him and his recent experiences, they would need to be extremely careful. The path was going to be steep and dangerous, past cliff’s edges and sometimes with large pot holes or unstable ground. It all seemed pretty normal for Impulse, but the rest of his company seemed mortified.

Demons naturally took risks - or, at least, they did before Evil X arrived. Perhaps this was one of the easier ways they were able to take risks and perhaps power their magic. Deals were an easier and more stable way to gain and hold magic, sure, but to take risks and to reap the rewards from it was quite powerful indeed. Therefore, to travel that road was preferable to Impulse. Skizz wondered if it meant that was how Impulse would get a taste of the magic he never had a chance to develop - taking risks.

Was talking to the chosen one in the hopes of being adopted into the party not a risk in itself? Wasn’t fighting True a risk, as well? Hopefully, it would not translate into miscalculated reckless behavior - which, from what Skizz had already seen from his newest friend, likely wasn’t the case.

Close to where the aforementioned fork in the road would be, another traveler approached. They must have come from the Wildlands, now traveling west past the Evil Empire. It was… well, Skizz couldn’t quite know how to describe this person. He looked like a person, sure, and he had all the basic shapes and appendices, but he looked off. Almost like an ooze, trying to find his shape and keeping it semi-competently. He didn’t appear to wear clothes, because like a chameleon, those clothes were projected onto him, morphed to look decent. His face was just slightly off, but just friendly enough. That, and a small bone seemed to stick out from his shoulder.

“Oh, hello!” he greeted the party, waving at them as they crossed paths.

“Hi!” Skizz said to be polite, still trying to figure out what was going on with this creature.

“You look like you are quite well-traveled.” The ooze-man said, reinforcing his findings with a simple nod.

“So do you,” Zed responded. Unlike the others, he wasn’t too apprehensive of the stranger. Tango, on the other hand, seemed more curious than apprehensive. Impulse had folded his arms and had taken a few steps back, watching the stranger as though he would attack soon.

“Thank you. I do travel a lot,” the stranger said. “Do you have any bones to spare?”

The question came out of the blue, spoken in the same intonation he had used before. As though what he had just asked was the most common question in the whole world. However, it wasn’t, and it left the whole group stunned for a second. Impulse moved his hand to his scabbard, where he kept his sword, but didn’t draw it out yet. Zed half-heartedly kind of pointed over his shoulder, in the direction of the Undead Republic where there would be bones. Tango just stared, dumbfounded - so it seemed it was up to Skizz to respond.

“Did you just say ‘bones’?”

“Of course!” the man said. After he still didn’t get any positive response, he gasped. “Goodness me, I should probably explain myself before asking.”

Skizz nodded. Yeah, that would be great.

The strange humanoid-shaped ozze-like creature raised his hand again in a half-hearted wave, as a way of greeting them once again. “I’m Xisuma. I’m a void being and I eat bones to sustain this form.”

He gestured to his current state of body.

“That’s… did you make that?” Skizz asked. He was more confused than he was before. Though he may have learned to roll with whatever the world threw at him, there were still some things that were just a little too weird to just let slide. Such as this.

“I did, yeah,” Xisuma said, nodding. “Bones keep my structure… well, structural. In a good shape that’s beneficial to me. That, and bones are just a treat.”

Skizz couldn’t help but glance at the piece sticking out of the shoulder area. Did he know it was there? Or was he oblivious?

“I don’t want to be rude or anything,” Skizz said, cautiously pointing at the shoulder. “But, er… you’ve kinda already got one.”

“Where?” Xisuma glanced at where Skizz was looking and then turned his head back to Skizz, a look of understanding in his eyes. “That little thing? That’s not gonna sustain me yet, I’m still growing it.”

Now Zed stepped forward, curious as ever. “You’re growing bones and consuming bones? How does that work?”

Xisuma nodded. “Well, it’s a whole process. I need bones not to be a shapeless blob, and it does help me keep my structure. They’re nice to consume, but there aren’t many places that have bones lying around. After consuming a lot, I guess I kind of learned how to grow my own. They’re not nearly as tasty as ones that aren’t homegrown.” Xisuma looked over the group. “I’m guessing you haven’t got any bones to spare.”

“Unfortunately not,” Skizz said.

“Undead Republic might have some,” Tango offered some advice.

“I’m aware they could have some. That’s why I’m traveling there,” Xisuma said. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to pull bones straight off of skeletons, that’d be barbaric! But if they have some just lying around–”

“I’m sure they’ll help,” Impulse said, still rather apprehensive, still wanting for this traveler to move on and leave.

“Sometimes. Not all of them are particularly nice,” Xisuma said. “Either way, I don’t want to hold you up any longer than I already have. Have a good day!”

“You too!” Skizz said, and they parted ways. Xisuma continued toward the Undead Republic while Skizz and friends continued to follow the road to the Evil Empire.

“That was a weird fella, right?” Skizz asked, to gauge the reaction of his friend.

“I didn’t like him,” Impulse said plainly.

“He’s weird, yeah, but I’ve met weirder,” Zedaph admitted.

“If he’s just eating bones and not taking them from random travelers,” Tango said, “it all seems good to me.”

Well, then that was settled. No more words were spared about this strange traveler (didn’t he describe himself as a ‘void being’?). They had an Evil Empire to infiltrate, anyway, and it wouldn’t help to dwell on every strange traveler they came across on the road.

Chapter Text

When Skizz and his friends wandered into the Evil Empire, he thought he knew what he would be laying his eyes on. He believed that he was as prepared as he could have been, what with Impulse’s thorough explanations of all the sights they would be seeing and the route they needed to take.

Evil X usually dwelled within the Evil Tower he’d built at the foot of the mountain range. This tall, deepslate, gothic monstrosity dominated the landscape and Skizz couldn’t help but make the comparison to Sauron’s tower near Mount Doom. Except that there was no active volcano around - thank goodness - and that demons lived at the foot of this tower.

A tent camp, the size of a decent city, sprawled out as far as the eye could see. Every now and again, a partially destroyed building popped up between the tents, serving as a public building where the demons could go to receive some basic services. The one body of water that Skizz could see was a pond with water that had a rusty coloration and did not look healthy. And then, beyond the encampment, the landscape had little to show for. Every now and again, a bush stubbornly tried to grow and take root, but its barren exterior revealed it had failed before it could thrive. The ground appeared dry and cracked. It wasn’t hot like in the Fire Plains, though. One would expect such a barren wasteland with predominantly reddish coloration all throughout to be at least warm. Instead, the temperature dangled somewhere in between warm and cold; not quite chilly enough to be called cold, but not warm enough to deem it as such either.

The sight struck something within Skizz. He found it difficult to believe that the demons of the Evil Empire had been able to survive for this long in these circumstances without outside support. 

And yet, they did.

They didn’t need to pass through the tents. Impulse knew a way around that would prevent them from entering the city and bring them to the base of the tower. A precarious path - because of course it needed to be precarious - around the very edge. It gave them little space to maneuver around, with just as little cover from below. All the demons below them needed to do was to look up to see a demon, a sheep hybrid, a human with clunky dragonfly wings, and a man with blazing fire for hair, try their best to sneak their way to the Evil Tower. They weren’t the most inconspicuous bunch, especially not in that configuration. 

“You can feel it too, right?” Zed asked out loud. “I’m not going crazy here, right?”

“Yeah, I can feel something,” Skizz responded, and Tango nodded as well. 

It was present, invasive and strange, but not harmful. At least not in any capacity that Skizz and his friends could feel. In a weird way, Skizz almost felt like a battery being put into a device that used up a lot of energy. With every step, more of that energy seemed to be drained, but only in small increments and it did not actually exhaust him. Quite a weird feeling to have.

Skizz’s wings started to feel more and more like dead weight.

“Yeah, I know,” Impulse said. He did not seem surprised by this feeling. “You get used to it.”

“Wait, is this–” Skizz didn’t finish the sentence. Everyone realized what it meant - was this feeling what drained the demons’ magic from them?

Impulse nodded. “Yeah.” He looked ahead at the path. “It’s not much further. We should reach the passage soon.”

Impulse didn’t want to talk about it; which was fair, all things considered. It had to be an awful situation for him. To have that taste of freedom, to know what magic feels like, only to return to the place where it was once again suppressed and drained. Perhaps you did get used to it, the same way one got used to persistent but not pervasive background noise. You barely notice it until it’s gone. It only made Skizz glad that they would only be in the Evil Empire for as long as their mission lasted.

They had not been spotted. Or, at the very least, none of them screamed from below and pointed up at them. Skizz decided to take that as a good sign, especially as they then reached the bottom of the Evil Tower.

From a distance, it was menacing. Up close, it was also menacing, but in a different way. From a distance, it looked like the eye of Sauron should be sitting atop of it. From up close, Skizz could only think of the countless amounts of flights of stairs that they would have to climb. Hopefully Evil X had some sort of elevator, which would save them some time and some energy.

Impulse pointed them in the direction of one of the staff entrances. This one, this close to the mountains, hadn’t been used too often. It led into a hallway, from where they had free reign of the tower. Evil X didn’t have a lot of employees, and more often than not the ones who work here disappear after a while.

Skizz was glad that Impulse got out of this pitiful situation when he had the chance.

However, the real tragedy still needed to be faced: the stairs. The spiraled upward inside the tower, with no railing and no central pillar. Sometimes, it leveled off for a doorway, leading somewhere that Impulse ignored. Worst, of all, the prospect of an elevator promptly vanished.

“Please tell me Evil X doesn’t live on the top floor,” Skizz asked.

“He does,” Impulse said, matching Skizz’s energy - which wasn’t all that high to begin with.

Skizz didn’t keep count of how many stairs they climbed. Impulse had tried a few times, but never finished it. Exhaustion caught up with him before he could finish - it only ever proved how inhumanely tall this building was, with no railing or elevator. Perhaps this was what the ‘evil’ in Evil Tower actually meant.

Every now and again, Impulse used his wings to fly a bit. Skizz almost wanted to follow his lead. Every time, he reminded himself he'd likely plummet. He wouldn't want to give Joel or the Lore Kingdom the pleasure of having to find a new Chosen One - as far as Skizz was concerned, they were stuck with him.

At long last, after too long, the stairs stopped. A landing provided some comfort, a moment of reprieve. Not too long - it was still a little ways away to Evil X’s main room. Skizz had to physically pick himself off of the ground before he could continue.

Around the corner, a wide hallway led to the door to Evil X's room, where the door stood open at a crack. 

Impulse stopped in his tracks, glancing suspiciously at the door.

“What's up?” Skizz asked him in a whisper.

“The door's open,” Impulse said. “It's never– it shouldn't be.”

“Are we walking into a trap?” Tango wondered out loud, also glancing suspiciously at the door. “It feels like we're walking into a trap…”

“It is quite possible,” Zed said in a tone that was somehow still a little too casual. “But we're here now. We're close. Are we turning back now?”

Turning back would be to go down those ungodly long stairs again. Then again, this very well could be a trap, since they didn't come across anyone in the tower either. So that was either extremely good luck, or they were indeed walking straight into a trap.

In which case: how did they know Skizz and friends were going to be here?

“Let's get some information before we're actually caught, then,” Skizz said. As Zed said, they were here now. They might as well do something while they were here. It would mean their journey would not have been for nothing. They wouldn't have climbed those stairs for nothing.

He was the first to step forward, the other three quickly following behind him. Knowing it could be a trap was both strangely exciting and terrifying. Yet, they pushed forward - Skizz even quickened his pace. The sooner they were in, the sooner they would be able to leave, too.

Even so, after the first few steps, Skizz stopped and looked. “Whoa.”

Whoa. Currently, the only correct response to walking into this room. Perhaps Skizz had been expecting an office area, similar to what the Undead Empire had, with a door leading to private quarters.

Well… he was wrong. For starters, the room was at least ten times bigger than he'd imagined. Wide, tall pillars with spiral designs held up the high roof. The fine silks of semi-transparent draperies sectioned off parts of the big space, while a golden throne on a raised platform dominated the middle section. Slightly hidden behind the throne stood an ornate desk. 

It seemed Evil X shared his throne room / office with others. The three sectioned-off areas were weirdly decorated, as though three separate people had a say about what it looked like. The weirdest item was a nest a few feet above the ground, affixed to the wall.

“Looks like we're in the clear,” Zed said after nobody jumped out of their hiding spaces to get to them.

“I don’t like this,” Impulse said. “It's too quiet.” His anxiety nearly jumped out of him - and, knowing this world, it may as well physically manifest itself if Impulse stayed too stressed out.

“In and out, remember?” Tango said, possibly to calm him. “This place gives me the creeps, I don't want to be here any longer than we need to.”

Skizz's first and only target was the desk. It was the one thing that may have the information they were looking for. As he approached, however, his attention was immediately drawn to something else. Over to the left, on another raised platform, stood what Skizz could only assume was that infamous hot tub.

Close to this hot tub was a door, likely leading to Evil X's evil living quarters, but Skizz paid no attention to that. He just walked straight up to the hot tub.

To be honest, it was a little underwhelming. Somehow, Skizz had built an image of this mythical hot tub in his head; one that did not match the reality in the slightest. In fact, it looked like a very normal hot tub, with a black and red exterior that fitted the color scheme.

No, what was most interesting about this was the water. It had a color that he would describe as rather strange, because it was almost the exact shade of blue that cartoons would use to signify small, clear bodies of water such as ponds or rivers. That exact type of blue now sat within the tub. It wasn’t the hot tub walls, either - they clearly continued the color scheme on the inside, as the water didn't reach all the way up. This very much had a strange cartoon color of water.

He dipped his right hand into the water. It kind of tingled.

“Careful!” Impulse's voice pulled him back to reality. “You don't want to mess with that! He'll notice.”

“I'm not messing with it,” Skizz defended himself. He barely dipped his hand in, not much more than that. “I just– does that look like normal water to you?”

Impulse frowned and approached him. As soon as he saw the water, his eyes widened in surprise and shock.

“No,” he said. “That’s… That’s not what our water naturally looks like.”

“What does it look like, then?”

“Murky. With a rust color. It’s definitely not this blue.”

Skizz glanced back at the water. His hand still tingled, but in a pleasant kind of way that didn’t really demand his attention or hurt him. Whatever that water was, it definitely wasn’t normal, especially if Impulse portrayed it as such. It did beg the question, where did this water come from and why did Evil X go to potentially such great lengths to fill his hot tub with it?

“We might have found something interesting!” 

Though Zed didn’t literally shout it, it almost did feel like it when he raised his voice. When Skizz looked over his shoulder, he saw that Zed and Tango were unfolding some papers and spreading them out onto the desk. 

Alas, the mystery of the hot tub had to wait. Time to actually do what he came here to do.

He and Impulse approached the desk, and looked over the shoulders of their friends to see what was being laid out in front of them. At the center lay a map of Hermiton - the first time Skizz saw an actual map of this place. The jungle, it turned out, was way more massive than he had first thought. Most of the main regions appeared to be roughly the same size, and finally the geography clicked in place in his mind. This was what Hermiton looked like.

It also put into perspective, once again, how far Grian had teleported them away from the coast. What had that menace been thinking, dropping them off in the Ice Kingdom like that?

“What’s this guy’s obsession with the Ice Kingdom?” Tango muttered under his breath. “This whole stack’s just communications with its queen.”

The stack in question was a couple dozen pieces of official paper, signed by both parties, discussing all sorts of relations. It seemed that Evil X had been lying to the demonfolk. He had been doing business with the Ice Kingdom, however limited that fashion was. Then there was the question of the crystals that grew from the ground, which Evil X apparently also seemed to be quite interested in, talking about a “testing phase” and that it “goes according to plan”.

A half-written down plan on scattered pieces of paper. A puzzle where some puzzle pieces were thrown out of the window, making people unable to solve it. Even so, some things were rather clear: Evil X was interested in the Ice Kingdom, using it as a testing ground - which the Ice Kingdom may or may not be aware of, but definitely was allowing the Evil Empire to do.

“Joel needs to know this,” Zed said. “The world needs to know it.”

“What are they even doing?” Skizz said.

“I don’t know,” Impulse responded. “I don’t understand, we were preparing for war. This doesn’t feel like–”

“Halt.”

A strange and strangely familiar feeling washed over Skizz. For one brief second, he stopped. His muscles stopped moving, his mind stopped thinking. It even felt like, for that one second, he stopped existing. The feeling of - almost like coming back online - was one of the weirdest experiences of his life, and he’d died and also sprouted wings.

When he looked at his friends, it looked like they had experienced the exact same thing. When he looked at the source of the voice that had spoken, Skizz nearly died all over again.

Three people walked into the room, casually. Three people that Skizz had hoped he would never see again, three people he’d hoped would never be in the same room as one another, three people he dreaded seeing again because of course he’d have to see them again.

To the left, the knight in dark armor and a red plume affixed to his helmet walked forward menacingly, his weapon drawn. In the middle walked the only woman, a harpy with her blonde hair tied, her wings folded, almost the spitting image of the traveling merchant’s bodyguard. Then, on her right, the same almost-spitting image of Scar walked beside her, looking the most relaxed out of all of them. With his hands in his pockets and a self-indulgent smile on his face, he seemed a little too happy to be here.

“I told you they’d try something stupid,” Badtimes told his compatriots. Then, turning his attention to Impulse: “And I believe I told you that you’d be dead the next time we saw each other. Rather fitting it’d be here, don’t you think?”

Impulse’s face went incredibly pale hearing those words.

“There’s no time for your games, Badtimes,” Hels snarled at him. “They’re trespassing. Let’s just get them!”

True only had eyes for Skizz. “You owe me a sword.”

Right. Skizz had mangled her sword until it wasn’t useful anymore. He still couldn’t quite believe he did that. It did make her mad at him, however, and that wasn’t good.

“Oh, I do know you love the thrill of the chase,” Badtimes responded to Helsknight, in a tone that seemed to infuriate the knight. Badtimes looked at the trespassers. “What do you say? Do you prefer a quick death or to be chased around like the prey you are?”

Skizz glanced at his friends, to gauge what they thought and to find a sliver of comfort. There wasn’t much comfort to be found, however - Impulse seemed deathly afraid of Evil X’s evil henchmen. Tango and Zed weren’t that much help, either, as both were frozen in place instead of trying to think of any clever plan to get out of this situation. Skizz was kind of relying on them to do that for him, since the only thought in his mind was one elongated scream of terror.

Zed meekly raised his hand. “I’d prefer a quick death, please.”

“A quick, clean death.” Badtimes seemed to savor the words as Zed lowered his hand. “Unfortunately, that’s not for me to decide. Hels?”

“I’m going to tear you limb from limb.” It looked like he was barely able to hold himself back any longer.

“You heard the knight,” Badtimes then said to Skizz and his friends, a grin curling up higher on his face. “Run.”

Chapter Text

“Run.”

The word had left Badtimes’ mouth. It had been directed toward Skizz and his friends. Fortunately, the command did not specify any direction, allowing them to run whenever.

Helsknight gave chase immediately. With his sword drawn, he approached immediately, aggressively, ready to destroy the chosen one and his friends. True dashed as well - not to the intruders, but in the direction of where Skizz had seen that giant bird’s nest. In the meantime, Badtimes stayed where he was and just smiled, enjoying the moment.

Running. The group spread out. Helsknight dashed after Skizz. For a moment, Skizz felt indignant - why would the knight target him, of all people? In his sheer panic, he briefly forgot that he was indeed the chosen one and that it must be the reason why he was chased first and foremost.

It was also why he was being shot as the group reconvened near the still opened door. Skizz looked behind him; True had taken to the skies, a bow in her hand and a filled quiver slung over her shoulder. She drew another arrow and shot so quickly that Skizz barely had time to process what was happening. If Impulse hadn’t pulled him down, the arrow would not have dug itself into the wood of the door, but in Skizz’s chest instead.

“Let’s go!” Impulse yelled, and the four men raced down the hallway, around the corner. Helsknight and True gave chase, while Badtimes stayed behind.

It didn’t feel safe to climb the stairs, and it definitely didn’t feel safe to race down the stairs as quickly as possible. They were going down a lot quicker than they were going up, but it was all too dangerous of a situation still. There were no railings, and one misstep could not only mean hurting yourself on these stone stairs, but to fall off and to your doom.

It didn’t help that Helsknight kept up the pace and True merely needed to fly down to continue to harass them with arrows.

“Where do we go?” Skizz asked. Doors on their sides gave access to different floors, but they hadn’t entered any of them. Any of them could give them temporary reprieve from the pursuit.

“Down?” Impulse suggested, unsure about his answer. “It’s going to be difficult to shake them, but we can do it. Maybe.”

“Maybe!?” Skizz yelled.

“Have you seen them in action?” Impulse yelled in turn.

Yes, Skizz had. And yes, Skizz was experiencing that now, since Helsknight and True were relentless in their efforts. Seriously, didn’t they ever get tired or something?

“I’ve got an idea!” Tango yelled out, expertly dodging one of True’s arrows. He nearly stumbled, but stayed on his feet.

“Do it, then!” Skizz yelled. The sooner they’d get out of this place, the better.

Tango then reached into his pocket, pulling out the deck of cards. Every time Skizz glanced over at Tango, he was looking through the deck as quickly as he could. His hands trembled and he nearly dropped a couple of the cards, but was able to keep running. Even if Zed had to pull him closer to the wall so that he wouldn’t blindly run off of the edge while his focus was elsewhere.

Two more arrows were shot in their direction. Behind them, Helsknight’s taunts seemed to be coming closer.

“Work faster!” Skizz shouted.

“I’m trying!” Tango responded, not looking up from his deck. Not even a few seconds later, he finally found what he was looking for and pulled a card from the deck. Though they were running, Skizz believed he recognized the card. As much as he could, since the last time he thought he saw that card was when he was actively dying. Evasion - the card Tango had previously used to get away from Badtimes.

“When I say now, you’ll have to stand still and stay close to me,” Tango tried to say, trying not to let the assault from True interrupt his process.

“Are you sure about that?” Impulse wondered - he hadn’t seen the card in action. He didn’t know what it could do.

“Do you want to get out of here or not?” Zed asked.

“This’ll get us out,” Skizz added, hoping it would let Impulse know it was a viable solution.

It worked. At least Impulse didn’t say anything against it, nor did he protest. There was no way of knowing what Impulse was thinking about, but he did shake his head twice, still running as quickly as he could with his friends.

Alright. Impulse was on board. Now they just had to wait for Tango’s signal and–

“Now!”

Skizz didn't come to an immediate stop. He skidded forward a little bit, but so did the others. They still stayed relatively close to one another, to Tango's joy. He slammed the card against the ground.

A flash of light engulfed them. Skizz pinched his eyes closed, so that it wouldn't blind him. At least this flash of light was good. At least, when he opened his eyes again, they would be out of danger and able to safely continue their flight.

Skizz’s heart sank when he opened his eyes. The walls were the similar black with red accents. Racks filled with all sorts of materials filled the space, leaving only narrow walkways. Instead of meeting the open air with some green-ish bushes fighting against the influence of the Evil Empire, they had been teleported to the evil storeroom - or something similar.

When Skizz looked to his side, Tango was looking just as confused as Skizz was feeling.

“Um, Tango?” Zed's voice pierced through the silence. “Where are we?”

“I don't know. We're supposed to be out of the tower!” The card was still in Tango's hand, and tango gave it the biggest confused stare. “What, not even my cards are as powerful here?”

“I know where we are,” Impulse's voice came from the other side of one of the racks. “I know how to get out of here. Follow my voice.”

Impulse started to move, and so did everyone else. It didn't take long for the whole group to be reunited within these  near-claustrophobic walkways. Impulse took the lead for as much as that was possible, guiding Skizz, Tango and Zed through the storage racks. After what felt like way too long, they found the door and escaped the evil storeroom.

And they were back into a hallway. At least they no longer had to contend with the stairs, as Impulse quickly led them through the corridors. Skizz started to recognize the corridors as the ones they used to enter the Evil Tower. The way out appeared not much later, and Skizz and his friends rushed out into the oppressive air and unfriendly wasteland.

Rather, Impulse pulled them away from the servant's entrance a little deeper into the mountain, to a cave partially hidden out of sight. The perfect place to take a quick breather and get their bearings before they could move on.

“Are we gonna be safe here?” Tango asked.

“For the time being,” Impulse answered honestly. “We can catch our breath here, but probably not for too long. They’ll want us dead and they’d stop at nothing to make sure that happens. At least while we’re within the Evil Empire’s borders.”

“Lovely,” Zed responded. “At least this can be a quick pause.”

“So…” Skizz then began. It didn’t feel right to start talking about it right away, but he needed to start the discussion. He wanted to get it off his chest, just in case. Not that it would matter if Evil X’s cronies found them, anyway. Still, it was important to discuss.Better do it now the information was still fresh on their mind.

“What do we know?” Skizz said. “We know that Evil X has communication with the Ice Kingdom, and that he wants to do something to them behind their back.”

“Not just the Ice Kingdom,” Tango said. “It looked like he wanted to target more than that, it just starts there.”

“Not just that kingdom, no,” Impulse confirmed. Skizz had seen him dour before, but not as serious as he was now. “Evil X is ambitious. He wants everything and hasn’t minced words about it. He wants it all. I only don’t see what’s so special about the Ice Kingdom…”

“It has massive crystals you don’t want to get near,” Zed explained. “It doesn’t do well near magic.”

Impulse nodded. “Noted.”

“And what about that hot tub, then?” Skizz wondered. The subject just couldn’t leave his mind. It seemed too important to ignore, even if they had very little time. There was a lot to unpack about this one unusual point of interest within Evil X’s evil office/throne room, but they would have to tackle it one subject at a time. “The water in it didn’t look like it came from the Evil Empire. What’s up with that?”

The silence after this statement said enough.

Impulse glanced at him. “How’s your hand?”

Skizz looked at his hand. It didn’t look weird, or deformed, or necrotic. Instead, it looked as normal as it had yesterday.

“It still tingles a bit,” Skizz responded.

Impulse crossed his arms. “You should get that looked at.”

“It’s not a bad feeling!”

“Yeah, and Netherite only makes your hands feel numb,” Impulse said. “You should be more careful in the future.”

“I am careful!”

“Can we focus for a minute?” Tango interjected, making sure that this discussion wasn’t going to go out of hand. “We just learned Evil X wants to do something bad to the world, and he wants to start with the Ice Kingdom. Joel needs to know about this.”

He had a point. Bickering wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

“We do need to do something about it,” Impulse agreed with a nod. “Perhaps we could warn the Ice Kingdom, go there–”

“No!” Skizz reacted instinctively. His exclamation was met with a confused frown. “I mean… we could do something about it, but perhaps Joel has a different idea. Maybe there’s more useful work we can do in the meantime.”

As Skizz was spinning this tale, Impulse was looking at him incredulously. A moment of pause.

“I don’t really know, anyway,” Skizz continued with a shrug. “Just spitballing here. We could do a lot.”

“You really don’t want to go to the Ice Kingdom, do you?” Impulse said

“It’s where we met Badtimes for the first time. He killed me.”

That seemed to be news to Impulse. The confused frown appeared on his face again. His gaze looked at Skizz from head to toe, likely searching for the evidence of the claim that Skizz had just made.

“Killed you?”

Skizz nodded. “I got better, though.”

Impulse mirrored the nod, albeit a little more hesitantly. “I can see that.”

“So we’re not going straight to the Ice Kingdom,” Zed said, once again trying to steer the conversation back to what was more important. “So we’re going straight to Joel’s, right? To tell him about what we discovered here?”

“We should go there anyway,” Tango added. “Maybe the Watchers have more info for us, based on what we can give them. They’re gonna spit out some nonsense prophecies and stuff, but some of the things they say could actually be useful.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Skizz said. He couldn’t agree more with going back to the familiar ground of the Lore Kingdom. “First we get out of the Evil Empire, and then we go back.”

“Don’t we at least need to warn the Ice Kingdom?” Impulse asked. “I don’t know much about them, but they should get a warning…”

“They're tough people,” Zed said. “They’re facing an everlasting winter and magical inconsistencies on a daily basis, they’ll be fine.”

“Besides, they’ve been working together with the Evil Empire,” Tango added. “I’ve met the Queen once or twice. She’s not dumb. Could Badtimes have tricked her or outright forced her into any agreements? Yes. It’s just as likely she did it out of her own free will. But I’m hoping that she knows what’s going on isn’t right. I’m hoping she’s prepared to be double crossed and has plans in place.”

When Skizz looked at Impulse, he noticed the demon didn’t really like the answers. From the way Impulse spoke about it, he wanted to visit the Ice Kingdom and give them a warning. However, the answers and Skizz’s rather positive response to them seemed to have lessened his enthusiasm for this cause.

“I hope so…” Impulse muttered under his breath, leaving it at that. “We need to move, now. We’ve rested enough.”

With those words, he started to get everyone out of the cave and out of the Evil Empire. The way back was harrowing - people had to be watching them traverse that small ledge and go into the mountain pass - but nothing happened. At least, nothing that they could see happened. Though Impulse assured everyone no invisible mechanisms or magic guarded the path and they should be safe, it didn’t reduce that restless, anxious feeling.

All the while, as they approached the border, they could feel themselves being invigorated. Their magic, suppressed to less than maximal effectiveness within the Evil Empire, was restored to them. To Skizz, it felt like that pleasant tingling sensation in his hand spread across his body and made him feel better.

Chapter Text

The atmosphere within the throne room was tense - tenser than usual. Badtimes dared not to look to his left or right, where True and Helsknight stood, respectively. They, too, remained quiet. They, too, dared not to move even a muscle, to open their mouth for a smart-ass comment, for that was not something they should do now.

In front of them, Evil X paced up and down. He only ever walked a couple of feet before he turned. Even though his face was obscured by the helmet, everything from his posture screamed that he was seething. 

Badtimes watched, waiting for the other shoe to drop. His mouth had run dry, for he had been the one to break the bad news.

“You…” Evil X began at a lower tone, his tone trembling a little - not out of fear, but out of pure anger. He raised his voice, his glare nearly tangible. “You let them get away?!”

He stopped pacing. His glare landed on his henchmen, each of them too afraid to move. They did not often feel his wrath, but once they were subjected to it, their discomfort grew and they could feel the full force. They had no idea what Evil X would throw at them, but from what they had seen before, they wished not to be subjected to the cruelty of his touch. 

“Yes, sir,” Badtimes said with a nod, doing his best to keep his back straightened and his dignity intact.

“It’s all his fault, sir!” Helsknight gained the courage to say, pointing at Badtimes. “Badtimes just wanted to play his little games with them before True and I could attack. By the time it was our turn, they had already fled.”

“As far as I know,” Badtimes dared to speak plainly, without sparing Helsknight a glance, “I’m not the one who was frothing at the mouth for a chase.”

“SHUT UP!”

The henchmen flinched, instinctively taking a step up or two back. Evil X’s glare remained on the three, though his focus seemed to shift more towards Badtimes, as their spokesperson. Badtimes gulped as quietly and unnoticeably as he could, but Evil X noticed. His focus turned to Badtimes, though his words applied to all of his henchmen.

“I don’t care who let them get away,” Evil X snarled. “I don’t care who was in charge of murdering them, I don’t care who played which role. The fact that their corpses are not laying around and their blood doesn’t stain the floor is proof enough of your general incompetence .”

He spat out the last word. Badtimes tried his best not to flinch and keep his composure. He didn’t quite succeed, though he did puff his chest for a response.

“It won’t happen again, sir,” Badtimes said. “It–”

Evil X rushed forward and grabbed Badtimes by the throat. He crushed it enough to make Badtimes uncomfortable and to leave him gasping for air, but not enough to actually suffocate him. Still, skin made contact with cold skin, and Badtimes struggled.

None of the henchmen could see it, but Evil X closed his eyes. In that moment, he relaxed his body as his ungloved hand held Badtimes’s throat in a tight, invigorating grip. Badtimes buckled under the touch, fell to his knees as he tried to pull himself free - an entirely normal instinct to have, yet it did nothing. With this coldest touch, energy that was put into Badtimes’s creation such a long time ago, now siphoned back into Evil X. That magical energy, freely given, can always be taken away. 

Badtimes’s skin turned pale, leaning closer and closer to shades of gray. Though normally there was not a hair out of place, he began to look disheveled. Some tufts of hair turned gray, too. The grunts and gasps changed, his breathing growing more and more ragged as this simple act slowly became too difficult. All the while, his energy - magical and otherwise - was sapped from him, directly taken by Evil X, who relished in the moment.

All the while, Helsknight and True watched, unable and unwilling to lift a finger to help.

Evil X released Badtimes. The henchman began to wheeze as he finally could take deep breaths again, his freedom returned to him. His gray skin slowly reverted to just being pale, but the gray streaks in his hair stayed. Badtimes sat on his knees, likely trying to get his bearings again.

“Oh, get over yourself and get up,” Evil X said as he rolled his eyes. 

Badtimes, ever a good servant, did exactly as he was told. He pushed himself back on his feet, still a little wobbly. Again, neither True nor Helsknight offered a helping hand, though they watched warily. The threats, once levied against Evil X’s enemies, now were used against his closest confidants and servants. If True or Helsknight ever doubted that Evil X would use his magic against them, those doubts were now expelled.

Evil X turned his attention to the one who hadn’t spoken yet. He could feel the fear emanating from True, just as he wished it to be.

“So, did the chosen one find anything here?” Did they take anything? 

At first glance, nothing appeared to be stolen, even if some documents had been laid out on his desk that hadn’t been there when Evil X last left this space.

“They found your plans for the Ice Kingdom, sir,” True said, speaking in as steady a tone as she could. “They unfurled your map and found the documents and contracts, but it doesn’t look like they dug all that deep. At most, I believe they may realize that you are in contact with and have plans for the Ice Kingdom, but with no idea what these plans are.”

Evil X nodded once. He would have preferred if his plans were kept under wraps. If they didn’t know what was coming, he still had the element of surprise. He didn’t have to change it, which was good. They’d come so far with the Ice Kingdom, it’d be a shame to throw it all out now.

“There was a demon among them, wasn’t there?” Evil X recalled them saying something about a deserter. That deserter may be slightly more involved and know a little more. “What does he know?”

“Just as much as the idiot he follows,” True said. “He’s neither a soldier nor tactician. He doesn’t know.”

“Good.”

Good. His plans could still go as planned. Unless…

Another idea popped up in Evil X’s mind. As his gaze drifted to his hot tub, that idea ruminated and took up his attention. It wouldn’t be bad. The plans were revealed, the intruders had gotten away. Soon, the world would know the Ice Kingdom - and potentially the rest of the world - was in danger. The timeline needed to be pushed forward

“Find them.” Evil X whipped his head back to his henchmen. “Find them, cut them up into tiny bloody pieces, and feed their remains to your steeds. Figure out how the chosen one survived the first time around and make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

The henchmen nodded once and scurried away. They couldn’t leave the room fast enough. Badtimes hobbled behind, still trying to get his bearings after most of his energy had been siphoned from him.

Evil X didn’t pay any attention to them after the order had been given, however. Instead, he walked over to his desk, where the war plans were still laid out. True had been correct - the chosen one had uncovered there were plans with the Ice Kingdom and that contact had been established, but not what exactly those plans were. The crystals were just described, but their functionality was not explained. That was the one document they had missed, which played into Evil X’s favor.

They would find out what it meant sooner rather than later, anyway.

“Congratulations, chosen one,” Evil X said under his breath. “Your interest in the Ice Kingdom just sealed their fate.”

Chapter Text

The way back to the heart of the Lore Kingdom was, surprisingly, rather easy. Yeah, there were some small rainfalls every now and again, but the weather was all-around rather nice and the roads ahead were mostly clear. There didn’t seem to be many people traveling these days, but Skizz didn’t particularly mind. Though he’d love to see and meet more people, they didn’t really have the time to stop and talk to most of them. Besides, the landscape itself was lovely and a delight to travel through.

“You know what?” Skizz said, a relaxed smile on his face. “I quite like this. This is nice.”

“Indeed,” Zedaph said, spreading his arms. “A light breeze, and open and free road… this is good.”

“Is it?” Impulse asked. He looked ahead on the dirt road - not a soul anywhere. “Is… are these roads bad to travel? Are there bandits?”

He already started to tense up a little, his eyes on the nearby treeline to ensure nothing would randomly jump out and attack them. His hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, ready for anything.

“No, not really,” Tango said. “I mean, we do need to watch for some folks, but we know who they are.”

“Who, then?” Impulse asked. “If we see them, do we kill them?”

“Of course not!” Tango said. “They’re a group of merchants. Hard to miss. Two of them, er… two of them look like True and Badtimes.”

Impulse stopped in his tracks. For a second, Skizz thought this would only last a second and they could continue to move on from there, but that wasn’t the case. Impulse stayed rooted where he’d stopped, his hand now grasped the hilt a little too tightly. He tried to appear in control of himself, but the way his face went one or two shades paler showed how much that fear was instilled in him.

“What?”

“They’re nice people!” Skizz said, hoping to mend the situation. “They are nothing like True and Badtimes. I mean, Scar still yaps like Badtimes but a bit more chaotic, I think, and False is a strong warrior, but she hasn’t hurt us yet.” Skizz paused for a second, then remembered the last time he saw False. “Well, she hasn’t hurt them and technically hasn’t hurt me, but she does want to kidnap me.”

“Because you’re the chosen one?” Impulse asked. Already, Skizz could see Impulse relax a bit.

“Maybe?” Skizz shrugged. “Someone wants me, and they’ve hired False to get the job done. That’s as much as I know.”

Impulse nodded a few times. He released the hilt of his sword.

“We’ll have to look out for this False, then,” Impulse said.

They definitely would have to. She had once found Skizz on her own, without the help of her friends. Now, if Scar and Cub were around and they would meet each other on the road, nothing bad would happen at that time. They would have to keep an eye out after they left, though, since that was exactly when False had taken Skizz the first time. 

But Impulse hadn’t been there for these events, so they quickly caught him up to those stories as they continued down the road. Impulse listened carefully, trying to take in all of the details he had been given. The idea of doppelgangers seemed to spook him a little bit, but he tried not to show it too much.

Instead, Skizz offered to take his mind off of things. He didn’t quite say it in as many words, but he did ask Impulse to help him fly. He didn’t need to be able to get up high (and, if so, not to come back down) but it would help tremendously if he could just fly forward. No fancy tricks, no turning, just going straight forward. Once he’d mastered this, Skizz figured that everything else would come much more easily. Fortunately for him, Impulse had the exact same philosophy.

Did it slow their travel to the capital of the Lore Kingdom? Yes, very much so. But did Skizz make progress learning how to fly? Also yes. Even if it still looked a little wonky and he couldn’t quite make any turns as smoothly as he would wish he could, at least he could say that he could fly now. Now the landing might be a good thing to work on, since leaning forward to the ground and head-butting the ground every time he wanted to land didn’t quite look graceful nor did it feel good.

It did feel good, in general. To be able to fly… he never would have thought this possible, yet there he was on the road, flying about two feet above it while trying to keep to a straight line. He’d get better at this the more he practiced, he was certain of it.

In any case, this journey was made that much more enjoyable because of these activities. Before they knew it, they walked right back into the capital city, where the Lore Palace awaited.

Skizz secretly kept an eye on Impulse. The demon walked around, deeply aware of his surroundings as well as deeply aware of who he was, walking through these peaceful streets. Fortunately, the people of the Lore Kingdom barely spared him any glance, let alone a suspicious one, and they left them all alone. Perhaps someone looking like a demon didn’t raise any alarms because the people here were so varied-looking and so wildly different from one another. It did feel good to see Impulse relax as he realized he wasn’t going to be judged based on how he looked. Now, they didn’t know what would happen if Impulse did identify himself as a demon, but for the time being, they would keep that detail under wraps. For everyone’s safety and comfort.

The palace, as per usual, dominated the skyline. All major roads connected to the palace, and the main road led them up to the palace gates. The guards recognized Skizz as the chosen one and instantly, without questioning them, allowed them to enter. It almost was enough for Skizz to wonder what would happen if someone had magic to change into him and walked into the palace. Clearly the guards wouldn’t stop this trickster, since they didn’t even say a word to Skizz. Perhaps Skizz should bring that up to Joel, because that felt like a major security risk.

As they entered the palace, they were faced with the familiar singular hallway that would bring you anywhere you needed to be by just thinking about it. Skizz tried to visualize the throne room in his mind. It’s been a while and the details escaped him, but it was good enough - and his friends were helping, of course - that they were able to make it to the grand double doors.

Skizz timidly knocked on the door. They echoed through the hallway, but the door did not open. They waited for a few moments - perhaps Joel was busy. Perhaps Joel hadn’t heard it and didn’t notice. Skizz knocked again, with similar results. As his patience decreased, he pushed against the door and even pulled at the handles.

Still, the door wouldn’t budge.

“Is this… is this supposed to happen?” Impulse asked, glancing between his friends.

“It should open,” Skizz said, shaking his head. “Why doesn’t it open?”

Zed shrugged. “Perhaps he’s busy? I mean, that’s the only thing that I believe Joel wouldn’t let us in.”

“But if he’s busy, shouldn’t he put a little sign on the door?” 

Skizz believed that wasn’t too big of a stretch. At least a little ‘do not disturb’ sign would at least help them know that, hey, perhaps the God-King didn’t want other people in his throne room for whatever reason they could come up with. Instead, the door refused to open without any sign or warning that Joel was indeed busy.

“It would be the polite thing to do,” Impulse agreed with Skizz.

“Well, he’s busy, so…” Tango shook his head. “Go back to the courtyard and figure things out ourselves?”

Yeah. It seemed that was the only option they had left. To linger in the hallway maybe wasn’t the best idea, even if nobody else was going to run into them in this metaphysical space. In the courtyard, in the open air and sun, they might be able to formulate a plan. Maybe, if they didn’t go off-topic too quickly. That tended to happen sometimes. It was good fun, but not if you’re trying to make a decision and an hour later, you’re talking about what the best consistency of a roasted marshmallow is and you still haven’t made a decision.

Back onto the courtyard, with its beautiful paved sandstone tiles and nice view of the main road ahead. As Skizz was about to revel in the tranquility of this courtyard, something else caught his attention.

“Wait, are those…?”

In the shadows of a few oak trees, two people were chatting. Skizz could have sworn that he hadn’t seen either of them when he and his friends walked onto the courtyard and entered the palace proper. Yet, the two stood there as though they had been chatting there for far longer than the few minutes it took Skizz and his friends to go into the palace. Grian’s soulless black voids that served as eyes were still as creepy, while Mumbo looked as immaculate as the first time Skizz had ever seen him.

“It is them!” Skizz exclaimed. Without a second thought, he approached the two, and Tango, Zedaph, and Impulse had to follow.

Skizz wasn’t quite sure why he approached the duo. At least, not consciously. Perhaps something in his subconscious saw them - and especially Grian - as some sort of authority figure. Zedaph and Tango appeared to respect him. Impulse had no idea who this was. Plus, Grian had teleported them away from the ocean to somewhere else. He was a powerful being, and if they couldn’t get to Joel today, then perhaps Grian was a decent substitute. Perhaps not quite fitting, but at least decent.

“Hi guys!” Skizz greeted them. Zedaph and Tango remained quiet for the time being, while Impulse joined them to watch what was about to happen.

Grian and Mumbo halted their conversation - Skizz found it difficult to recall what they had just been talking about - and turned their heads to Skizz. Mumbo jovially greeted them back, while Grian seemed to wait for the pleasantries to be finished.

“Hello,” he said. He turned his gaze to the demon. “I see you’ve made a new friend.”

Impulse sheepishly raised a hand. “Hi.” Then he leaned in a little closer to Skizz. “He’s a bit creepy.”

Skizz nodded, and Tango responded: “He’s always been like that.”

“So, what have you been up to?” Mumbo asked them. “Did you finish your business in the Undead Republic?”

Well, now that he’d asked, Skizz felt free to tell them everything that had happened. He told them about the Undead Republic and their missing scientist problem, how it hadn’t been the sculk but True and Helsknight who slaughtered them in search for a cure against being sculked - which was what the scientists had been trying to figure out in the first place. He told them that their opponents retreated and only one scientist survived. Cleo had promised to deliver puppets when the main battle was about to start. And, because he was on a roll and needed to share this, Skizz also told them about their disastrous infiltration of the Evil Empire and the plans they discovered while snooping around.

Grian seemed unfazed with everything. Mambo listened carefully and curiously, but he also had some sort of weird look on his face while they discussed the events of the Undead Republic; almost as though he’d heard that part of the story before. Odd.

“...and now we’ve come to a little bit of a problem,” Skizz concluded his tale, and he addressed everyone in the vicinity. “What do we do now? I mean, we came here to ask Joel to help with the Ice Kingdom and– just saying, it’d be great if they could handle that, so that we can focus on gathering allies and strength. Don’t really know what more strength would look like…”

Zedaph, Tango, and Impulse said nothing. They each looked at Mumbo and Grian, as though they would like for the duo to have the first word in this regard. Skizz thought this was strange, since his friends had never been shy to give their opinions. Perhaps they, too, respected Grian and Mumbo in this regard.

Fortunately, these two had an idea.

“The Jungle could provide you with help,” Grian said.

Mumbo frowned. “The Jungle? Are you sure? Between The Jungle and the Ice Kingdom, I think I’d prefer the Ice Kingdom…”

“That’s because you prefer bureaucracy,” Grian told his friend in the most casual tone that Skizz and his friends had ever heard Grian use. The mysterious man with void-eyes turned his attention to Skizz and his friends. “The Jungle is a wild place. Unpredictable. The boons Their guardians could provide could prove to be helpful to your cause.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Skizz said. “We either go to The Jungle and have a bit of adventure, or we’re going to be stuck in a red tape mess of the Ice Kingdom? I know what I wanna do.”

The Jungle, any day. It may be hot and humid, but at least it wasn’t cold. At least it didn’t feel like he was tired the whole time he moved around there. At least he didn’t have any particularly bad or traumatizing memories about The Jungle. He could still feel it, phantom pain in his stomach where the Netherite blade had pierced it and from where its numbing, withering curse spread. Fortunately it numbed the senses and the pain; Skizz didn’t want to imagine what that otherwise would have felt like. 

The more he thought about the Ice Kingdom, the more present this phantom pain became. Skizz shook his head and focused back on the conversation - he didn’t want to think about the Ice Kingdom. He didn’t want this feeling to become like one of those living memories that he’d been assaulted by twice over now, and he definitely didn’t want to inflict anyone else with the same things he had gone through.

“We could–” Tango began, but Impulse quickly interrupted him.

“I’d feel bad not going to the Ice Kingdom,” Impulse said. “Extra help is great. Those boons do sound interesting. But, we know the Ice Kingdom is under threat. It has caught the attention of Evil X. I don’t want to leave them to their fate.”

“Yeah, but what are we gonna do about it?” Skizz wondered out loud.

“You’re the chosen one,” Zed said. “You–”

“But what am I gonna do about it? Huh?” Skizz grew more agitated than he thought he’d be. “I’m just one guy, chosen or not. I-I can do things, sure, very chosen one-like, but most of that stuff has been an accident. Hell, I can barely fly properly at this point! Yeah, I’m better than I used to, but what am I gonna do then? Flatten myself against their window because I couldn’t stop my wings in time?” 

The words tumbled out of his mouth just as easily as movie quotes. He hadn’t thought it bothered him that much, but - as it turned out - even Skizz learned something new about himself every day. It was strange, to let that out when it hadn’t been on his mind and when he believed he was extremely excited about his role.

Perhaps that was something else that had changed during the journey. Being the chosen one seems fun and all until the implications of everything that came alongside it hit him.

At the very least, this confession had silenced everyone.

“I say we go to the Jungle again,” Skizz said, capitalizing on the silence and his authority as the chosen one. “Let’s see what they have to offer us. If this doesn’t take us too long, we can always check up on the Ice Kingdom and see any help.”

Skizz turned to Grian and Mumbo. “But, er, could you warn the Ice Kingdom in the meantime that the Evil Empire’s coming? Or, could you at least tell Joel to warn the Ice Kingdom? As Impulse said, they are in danger. We should give them a heads-up, just in case.”

Mumbo nodded. “Yeah, we could do that.”

Grian remained silent, but Skizz interpreted the general stance as Grian agreeing with this notion as well.

“Great.”

But, before they left… perhaps they could linger in the Lore Kingdom one more night. Perhaps they would be able to talk to Joel after all and explain everything. It would, most of all, be great to spend at least one day in an actual bed. Zedaph could return to his room to grab more supplies and take a look at the necklace he’d create - because it shouldn’t be possible that something of his creation wouldn’t work. Tango could check up on his ravagers in the stables. Impulse could learn a bit more about the Lore Kingdom and the world outside of the Evil Empire.

And Skizz could have some time alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Skizz’s guest room in the Lore Palace was foreign to him.

He could still walk around barefoot. The ground beneath his feet was still as pleasantly warm as the room he was in. The spacious room held a dark green couch sitting near a fireplace that burned with no wood, a king-size bed with cerulean bed sheets and a cabinet with all sorts of books. Skizz was certain that the cabinet had not been there when he first slept here. When he investigated the books, they all appeared to be history books or books that discussed mythology. They each contained the information that Skizz would need to understand the world around him.

One book caught his attention.

The book on the bedside table almost taunted him. Its dark purple cover was almost what Skizz had remembered, but its title had remained the same: 'the war of the watchers'. Skizz had intended to bring it along, but he must've left it on this table.

He picked up the book, looked through it. The font looked different. He was certain it had been a smaller size, too. When his colleague had given him the book, it might have been a lot smaller. Skizz was willing to try a book of about two hundred-ish pages; yet, the final page had the number 416 printed on it.

He almost turned back to the first page. After everything, Skizz had forgotten how it started. Still, after holding the book for a few seconds, he placed it back on the bedside table. Once, he would've been willing to give it a try. Now, he was certain he would forget what he'd read because of everything else that was going on.

Skizz walked over to the balcony. Had there been a balcony before? Perhaps, perhaps not, perhaps Joel had it built or had the room changed while Skizz was away. Either way, Skizz leaned against the railing and stared ahead. The sky was painted in soft reds and oranges, intermingled with the occasional purple or blue streak. Verdant forests and fields dominated the foreground, while the background drew the attention to a mountain range, small plumes of white smoke rising behind them.

Skizz and his friends had been there about a week ago.

He took a deep breath and watched. Watched the fields, watched the forests, watched the mountains. Tried to think about what those plumes of smoke meant to keep his mind off of whatever it had on it. In this moment - truly alone, for the first time in days - the smile that seemed to have been permanently glued to his face faded. The smile, the enthusiasm, the excitement slowly peeled off. The surface perhaps might look glamorous, but he also hadn't dared to look too far below either.

A knock on the door pulled him out of those thoughts before he could drown himself in them. When he turned his head, the door was already opening. Impulse's head poked through the crack and in a few seconds, Impulse stood in the room, the door closed behind him.

"What's up, buddy?" he asked.

Skizz couldn't help but chuckle a bit. He hadn't expected for Impulse to turn one of Skizz's catchphrases on him.

"Hi, Impulse," Skizz greeted his friend as Impulse walked over to him on his balcony. "Do you have a different view from your balcony?"

Impulse shook his head. "No. It's exactly the same."

He joined Skizz on the balcony. Mirroring Skizz, he placed his arms on the leaning and looked out over the forests and the fields and the mountains. His gaze lingered on the mountains, and whatever light smile had been on his face now fully faded.

"Beyond those mountains, the Evil Empire is preparing something."

"Something big?" Skizz wondered.

"Probably." Impulse nodded to himself once, then turned to Skizz again. "But... that's not what I came to talk about. How are you doing?"

Of course. Of course Impulse would come to visit him to check up on him. A nice gesture that Skizz appreciated very much.

"I'm fine."

Impulse raised an eyebrow and looked at Skizz. "You can be honest."

"Okay, I'm not quite fine." It still was difficult to admit it out loud, especially when he hadn't really consciously processed all of the emotions of what he'd said and thought about in the courtyard yet. "It's about what I said about being the chosen one, right?"

Impulse nodded once. "Wanna talk about it?"

No. But also yes. If Skizz didn't talk about it right now, then he would be walking around with it still with nobody else knowing what he was thinking. In that case, he figured it was better if someone knew.

"I'm still okay with being the chosen one," Skizz started. A truth. At least, he hoped it was still true. "I never asked for this job, but chosen ones never do. I was excited about it in the beginning and I guess I still am, it's just..."

It just - a lot of things could fit behind those two simple words. Many things, which Impulse reduced to the one phrase he'd already heard Skizz mention.

"It's just that you're one person."

A chosen one was a chosen one. A chosen one, even with friends around, was still just an insular person with a unique perspective on the mission because of all the mythical things they were supposedly capable of, or because they had been chosen for this mission for reasons potentially still unknown to them. Or, in Skizz's case, he might have just had the worst luck ever.

"I'm just one person," Skizz agreed with Impulse. "I do have a whole team around me, and I really appreciate all of you so very much, but still. There's only one chosen one." Only one chosen one, but one awesome team! A team worthy of a name. Skizz frowned. "We probably do need to get a good team name for us..."

"You're changing the subject," Impulse said.

"Am not!" Skizz instantly defended himself. Then he realized what he'd said before that. "Okay, maybe a little. Unintentionally, though."

Impulse nodded once. Skizz wasn't sure if Impulse believed him or not. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's totally fine."

"I do! I just got distracted." They did need a good team name - but that was something to consider in the future. "Being a chosen one... it looks fun and all, but it's also-- what do you do? How do you know what to do? How do you learn, how do I learn? I can just about fly in a straight line, and that's it."

Impulse let the words sink in, and Skizz took that time to let them bounce around in his mind a little longer, too. It's just one aspect, but it's the one that loomed the largest in his mind. He was just Skizz. He knew how to run a team, but he had no idea how, or even if those skills would be useful in a fight against an evil force with swords and bows and all sorts of threats that the modern world he hails from no longer prepares people for.

It would be ridiculous to even know how to use a sword unless you're a LARPer or do things like history reenactment. Skizz, unfortunately, was neither.

"Perhaps you need to spend some time training with magic, too," Impulse suggested after a few moments. "What you did to True's sword was awesome. Let's try to make that happen consistently. Just like you just can't learn how to fly in a matter of minutes, you can't just learn how to do magic in such a short amount of time if you're not familiar with it. It takes time and effort and practice, but we'll get there."

Skizz shrugged. "And when are we gonna do that?"

Their days, after all, were rather packed. When, in their busy schedules, would they be able to try and train Skizz's use of magic?

"We'll do it in the quiet moments," Impulse responded. "We've carved out some time for flying lessons, let's do the same for your magic. We'll do it during the breaks, the quiet moments before bed. There's nothing quite like accidentally turning a ceramic mug into grass before going to sleep, or something."

Impulse took a step closer towards Skizz and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll help," he said. "Not sure how helpful it is going to be, but we'll be there."

"Thanks, buddy." That felt really good to hear, and he impulsively pulled Impulse into a hug. The demon hadn't expected it and just stood still for a second or two as Skizz's arms were wrapped around him. Eventually, he relaxed and he returned the embrace.

"Anytime, dude."

They released each other, knowing they would cherish this moment forever. 

However, Skizz's mind turned back to the conversation that preceded it, and another aspect of being the chosen one that might have always felt wrong reared its head. For a second, he wondered whether he should bring this up as well, but then decided to go for it. He was having this chosen one conversation now, anyway, so another time might not be the right time anymore.

"I guess..." Skizz hesitated for a moment, but continued anyway. "I guess I'm also thinking about the end."

Impulse frowned. "What about it? What do you mean?"

"I have to defeat a great evil, or something," Skizz said. "I'm going to have to defeat Evil X's armies and then Evil X himself. But I... I don't wanna kill. I can't kill."

Because that was what it would come down to, wouldn't it? Chosen ones were chosen for a reason. Whether they had the skill or not, the reason was often this great evil. An evil that needed to be eradicated from this world. And, in order to eradicate this evil, it would need to be destroyed at its root. In this case, that root was Evil X and when that root was a person, common trope knowledge would suggest that Evil X needed to die. Skizz needed to become something he did not want to become.

"You shouldn't think about that," Impulse said. "We can... we can worry about that once we're stronger. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? Let's focus on one problem at a time. Control of your magic is the first step. We can have this conversation properly once we know what exactly you're capable of. I've seen what you can already do, perhaps this won't need to be a question at all."

It may not be a question at all. Skizz nodded a few times - it wasn't the direction he thought this would be taken, but he did appreciate the words of comfort.

"Alright. You're right, I'll try." For Impulse's sake. "I mean, I have to try, right? It's not like I can quit."

"Why not?" Impulse said. "You could always say 'no'."

Now that was interesting, especially because he hadn't expected that from Impulse. However much Skizz would love to be able to just take a break for a second, he couldn't say 'no'. He could not ignore what the world was going through.

"We've been doing a lot of good here," Skizz explained. "Even if I quit, they'll still hunt me down. Evil X will want to find and kill me. And if- if Joel brings me back home, which I'm not even sure he wants to do, then what? I go back to my previous life. I go back to being overworked and I'll be left to wonder how things are over here. So, yeah, no. I can't quit."

Impulse nodded once, looking impressed. "That's a noble thought."

"Thank you," Skizz said. He didn't feel particularly noble, though. He just felt like he shouldn't be selfish in this particular scenario. Whether he quit being the chosen one or not, Evil X wasn't going to rest until Skizz was dead. It may not matter to them whether Skizz had quit or not. As long as Evil X was still around, Skizz's job wasn't done.

However, Skizz couldn't think about Evil X right now. He could not let those thoughts consume his mind. So, instead, he turned his attention to his companion.

"How about yourself?" Skizz asked. "How are you doing? Okay?"

Impulse nodded and he turned his gaze to the landscape outside. The sky had darkened a little more, and the dark blues and purples slowly pushed away the reds and oranges. When Impulse looked around the forests and fields and mountains, his eyes seemed to be filled with stars and wonder.

"The world is... it's marvelous. It's wonderful. It's been here the whole time and I couldn't..." His voice trailed off, and his gaze found the mountains.  "I could never have thought this much beauty awaited me when I left."

Now, it was Skizz's turn to place a hand on Impulse's shoulder. "You're here now, buddy. You're gonna take care of me, but guess what, I'll be taking care of you at the same time. For questions you'll have to ask Tango and Zed, they know way more about all of this than I do, but I'll be there. Moral support."

"Thanks," Impulse said, genuine gratitude in his voice.

Skizz waited to see if Impulse had anything else to say, but it stayed quiet. So the conversation was likely over. Before he could start talking about something else, the door burst open. Without knocking, the satyr-like shape of Zedaph rushed into the room.

"I have discovered the problem!" Zed triumphantly declared. Zed stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the room, when he saw that Skizz was not alone in the room.

"Oh," Zed said. "Do I– am I interrupting something?"

"No, not at all!" Skizz said quickly. Zedaph actually had come in right on time, after all the important conversations had been had. Skizz left the balcony alongside Impulse and met Zedaph in the middle of the room. As Skizz approached, he realized what Zedaph was holding in his hands.

"Wait, that's my necklace!" Skizz exclaimed. "Do you know what's wrong with it? Is that why you came in here?"

"I have indeed discovered the problem, yes," Zed said. He looked quite caffeinated, like he was about to bounce through the room. There also seemed to be something else brewing beneath the surface; something that almost felt like fury. Zedaph held up the necklace, and showed the backside to Skizz and Impulse. "If you take a look at the back, what do you see?"

Skizz only saw some scratches into the golden necklace. Perhaps the scratches meant something, but whatever it was, Skizz did not know what it said. When he glanced at Impulse, the demon didn't seem to know, either.

"Yeah, it's an... inscription," Skizz said, almost forgetting the word 'inscription' before he used it.

"Yes!" Zedaph reacted. "I had carved some alchemical runes into it - protective runes and binding runes that would make this necklace do what I originally promised it would do. Now, I wasn't the only person handling this particular necklace. So, if you take a closer look over here..."

Zedaph pointed out a particular section of the backside. Skizz and Impulse leaned in a little closer, to try to see what this was about.

It took them a long time to see what Zedaph was pointing out. At long last, Skizz did see something different, which was likely what Zed had been alluding to.

"It's just a smooth surface," Skizz said.

"Exactly!" Zed exclaimed. "One of the most important runes to keep its whole purpose, gone! It turned it almost into nothing more than a trinket, because - it still stores some amount of energy, but not nearly as much as it should, and I don't even know where it discharges all the absorbed energy to." As he was speaking, he became increasingly more heated, and more and more absorbed into the plans he was making. "What I can do, is to go and visit everyone who's worked on this necklace alongside me. It was me and two other people primarily, but if they also had some help and that help looked for help, who knows how many people have laid their eyes and fingers on this necklace before it went around your neck. I will find the culprit and--"

"Zed, easy. Don't forget to breathe," Skizz said. Zed had been speaking for so long that Skizz legitimately believed he might have been running out of air. "You don't-- it's fine."

"No, it's not!" Zed said. Skizz had never seen Zed this agitated. "Someone has tampered with--"

"I know they did, I know," Skizz said, hoping to calm down Zed. It only partially worked. "Zed. We're fine. I'm okay, I've got a pair of wings and nothing else happened to me."

"Zed." Now it was Impulse's turn to speak up. "We know this is important to you--"

"Extremely!" Zed exclaimed.

"--but if you stay here, you won't be able to help us on the road."

That was a good argument. Too good to pass up on.

"Impulse is right," Skizz said. "We need our alchemist on the road. Especially if we go to The Jungle."

"You can always come back to this at a later moment," Impulse added, as the final thing he would say on the matter. Skizz hoped that what they had told Zed was enough to convince him to stay. As Impulse had said, Zed's expertise would be of immeasurable worth in times to come.

"Alright," Zed said eventually. "Alright. I'll leave it for now, but I won't let it go."

He pocketed the necklace again - didn't even offer it up to Skizz again. He still was mad at whoever had messed with the necklace, but he tried to push it down. "Good night, gentlemen."

With one bow, he turned around and left the room. Both Impulse and Skizz wished Zedaph a good night as well. As soon as the door closed, calm and stillness fell back over the room.

“I should probably go to bed as well,” Impulse said. “Good night, Skizz.”

“Good night,” Skizz said, as Impulse walked to the door. “Oh, and Impulse?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the conversation,” Skizz said. “I needed it.”

Impulse smiled. “You’re welcome.”

He closed the door behind him, and Skizz remained behind. Though he was alone in his room, he didn’t quite feel as lonely anymore. Conversations with friends really did do wonders.

Chapter Text

The sunrise was beautiful as always, and the chosen one and his fellow adventurers left the Lore Kingdom’s capital city behind them for the next leg of their journey: to venture to the Jungle and see if the Guardians had something to help them in the fight against the Evil Empire. Skizz would have prefered to stay a little longer after that good night’s sleep, but the chosen one can barely sleep without being harassed by fate. He was going to have to do his job and he would do it as well as he’d be able to at this point in time.

Fortunately, he still had his friends by his side. Impulse was walking right beside him, his sword in its sheath and his eyes on the road ahead, making sure that no trouble would be found there. He might be taking “keep an eye out for False” a little too seriously, but it was better to have someone keep that eye out rather than nobody paying attention to their surroundings at all. Tango, himself, had grabbed a larger backpack. Fresh scratches and bruises graced his arms and legs, of which he said that “the baby ravagers were too enthusiastic to see him again”. The reunion with the ravagers had invigorated the rancher, who began this leg with the journey with a surprising spring in his step. Of course, Zedaph also still came along, though he was walking a bit more slowly than the others. His backpack was a little unwieldy, but trying to do something to the ornament of that famous not-quite-working-well necklace while also keeping an eye on the road was not the greatest combination.

“Still working on the necklace?” Tango asked. “Didn’t you get enough time in your workshop?”

“I prefer the term ‘laboratory’,” Zed replied. “But no, I didn’t. I spent most of that time identifying the problem and now that I know what that problem is, the next logical step is to start repairs. I can fix what’s been done to it, but I’m afraid it might come a little too late.”

Tango didn’t look surprised or confused when Zed mentioned the problem, so Skizz guessed that Zed had also told or perhaps ranted to Tango about what he’d discovered. However, Skizz wasn’t quite sure what might be too late.

“Too late to fix it?” Skizz wondered.

“Too late to hand it back to you!” Zed said. He’d motioned with his hand as he spoke and almost accidentally threw the necklace forward. He still had a good grip on the chain, though, so it didn’t fly through the air. “I mean, if you would want it back, of course. It’s utterly useless and with everything that’s already happened to us, it’s not gonna do all that much for you anymore.”

“It’s… it’s fine.” If it didn’t work, then he may not need to wear it anymore. It did suck that it never worked as intended. “You focus on fixing it, and I’ll… I’ll try flying every now and again, I suppose.”

True to his word, Skizz did try to fly every now and again. Sometimes only a minute or two, during which he learned that if he flew forward, he was doing so at the same speed as if he was sprinting. Except he wasn’t getting as tired of it as he would if he actually sprinted. He never really was the sprinting kind of guy, anyway, he much preferred drumming, which required a whole different kind of stamina. Impulse was able to keep him in check, so that he wouldn’t fly too far away. That, and the little tips that Impulse gave him really helped.

The journey continued, past green fields and clusters of trees. As noon turned to evening and eventually to night and morning, the forest in the distance had come a bit closer. The road still continued through the fields, calmly ambling along the green hills of the Lore Kingdom.

At some point, however, they came to a literal fork in the road. Their path met with another, almost perpendicularly. When the group had reached this fork, they stopped and glanced in each of the directions presented to them.

So, now what?

“Where do we go from here?” Skizz wondered out loud, inviting every type of answer. “How do we get to the Jungle the fastest?”

“We go straight ahead,” Tango said resolutely.

Skizz frowned and stared straight ahead. “But there’s no path there.” 

“If we go left, we go in the direction of the Ice Kingdom and Wildlands, which isn’t something you want to do. If we go right, we can only reach the Jungle if we cross the Fire Plains.” Tango paused, and Skizz’s mind completed the thought - the Fire Plains wasn’t a place Tango wanted to go.

“Going straight ahead brings us to the Jungle anyway,” Tango continued, “maybe even a little faster. And who knows, maybe we’ll even get lost in the Jungle more quickly if we’re entering without a path to begin with.”

“I see,” Skizz said with a singular nod. Tango was not a fan of the Fire Plains, after all, and Skizz wanted to be as considerate about that as possible. “So, straight on it is! Does everyone agree?”

That was mostly aimed at Zedaph and Impulse, who didn’t protest all that much. It was decided, then - they’d leave the beaten path behind them to step into the wilds, in the hopes of reaching that Jungle just a bit more quickly.

Skizz was rather glad that this choice had been made. He’d stuck to the paths all the time because it was the safest option - and because Zed and Tango might drag him back to the path if he deviated from it. Now, it was not only a sound strategy, but a nice way to get to know the wilds of the Lore Kingdom. It had been nice seeing the countryside from the roads that crossed this country, but Skizz hadn’t quite seen that wilder side. Now he had that opportunity, and the change of scenery in this now familiar kingdom was quite refreshing, too, actually.

They walked in as much of a straight line as they could. More and more trees stood in their way until they entered a forest. Not a jungle, not quite the right biome or tree type, but at least they had walked into a forest. It wasn’t dense per se, but it did have its more claustrophobic corners that the group tried to avoid. 

The mood shifted alongside the scenery, from more free and carefree to a smaller, more cozy vibe. Every now and again it once again shifted to spooky forest vibes, but never for too long. Especially with friends around who walked like they knew the forests and weren’t afraid, it was easier not to be spooked by the shadows and the strange wildlife noises that Skizz couldn’t place.

Impulse didn’t quite feel at ease, either, but he didn’t allow the presence of friends to lull him into a perceived false sense of security. His hand was glued to the hilt of his sword and he perpetually glanced around, searching for danger among the bushes.

“Everything okay?” Skizz asked him.

Impulse shook his head. “Something’s off.”

“What is?”

“I don’t know.” Still, he looked around. He couldn’t even pull his gaze away to speak with Skizz. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

Skizz mirrored Impulse. The bushes were wide and almost poofy, able to hide people and block their sight of any dangers lurking. Impulse’s paranoia almost made him alert as well, waiting for the moment that a pair of glowing eyes opened as a prelude to danger trying to get the drop on them. Skizz wouldn’t want that at all. He already had one person - well, two people - hunting him, he didn’t want to be hunted by anyone else.

“We might be,” Zedaph said in a casual tone. “A group of minotaurs and dryads do live in this forest, so I’m not surprised by that.”

It incentivized Skizz to look around even more. Could a dryad be watching them this very moment? Or perhaps a minotaur was lying in wait with its big bull head…

“Are they usually lurkers?” Impulse asked. The knowledge appeared to have lessened his suspicion of the environment. He still held his hand on his sword, but he wasn’t keeping an eye out as stringently.

“The minotaurs not too much, I believe, but the dryads do like to lurk,” Zedaph confirmed. “You just need to be careful not to run into any tree, if you’re deciding to walk around without watching where you’re going. The dryads are nice, but you don’t want to anger one by running into their tree, even accidentally.”

Now that made a shiver run down Skizz’s spine. “Alright then…”

So, he wouldn’t be seeing minotaurs unless they ran into one, but the dryads were curious enough to lurk. And apparently dangerous enough if you disturbed their tree. It was more than enough for Skizz to try and at least a few feet away from any tree trunk he possibly could. He even glanced at what lay in front of his feet more often, to ensure that he wouldn’t accidentally stumble on a root. It almost made Tango laugh, but Skizz noticed that he too was being careful. As was Impulse. As was Zedaph, too.

The quickest way to the jungle, sure. But also rather dangerous if you didn’t look where you were going. Oh, the dryads had to be laughing so hard when they noticed the lengths Skizz was going to ensure he didn’t disturb their peace. Hopefully, they would also feel the respect that emanated from him and therefore could feel it in their hearts to forgive him, should he make a minor mistake. 

His slowed pace made him fall behind his friends. He wasn’t too far behind; Impulse was always close enough and frequently glanced over his shoulder at Skizz. Zed and Tango regularly stopped to make sure that Impulse and Skizz were still following (they were). Though they traveled more slowly  now, they still made progress. They would still make it to the jungle much more quickly than if they’d gone via the Fire Plains or the Ice Kingdom.

Hopefully, the messages had already been sent to the Ice Kingdom. The quicker they could prepare against an assault from the Evil Empire, the better.

Something caught Skizz’s attention, pulled his thoughts back to the present. A little bit of movement in nearby bushes. He stopped and stared. He couldn’t quite see it again. They’d been traveling without any wind for a while, so the rustling of bushes wasn’t the wind playing with it. Something had been there - someone had been there.

For a second, he wished it was a minotaur. Then he realized he would’ve already noticed if it was a minotaur, so likely it had to be a dryad. He wasn’t quite sure what they were supposed to look like, but he now knew that they liked trees. Perhaps it did make sense that dryads had wings; he did see a flurry of feathers behind the bush.

The creature jumped out of the bushes, flew through the air towards him. She held her sword in one hand, her blonde hair whipping behind her. The goggles still rested upon her head and this time, she launched towards him with her sharp talons aimed at him.

Skizz recognized her about a second too late.

A scream escaped his lips as False’s talons dug into his shoulders. Her speed and weight knocked him back and knocked him to the ground, knocked the air out of his lungs and ended the scream. Immediately, he had to grab her wrists as the sword came down on him - not to stab, but to knock out. He pushed them aside for just a second, his hand prints on the cloth of her sleeves.

Skizz glanced at his hands for a second. They didn’t look any different than before, but there was some light steam coming off of them. Pressing his fingertips against the palm of his hand, he could feel the heat coming from them. His hands weren’t burning and engulfed in flames, but they were hot. For now, his only defense against False, who still wished to capture him.

She did not let up. Her talons dug a little deeper into his shoulders, her grasp on him a little tighter now. She quickly glanced to her side and then proceeded with another attack. Instead of using her sword, she reached out to grab his wrists and bind them together. He tried to flail his hands around, to grab something else to burn and protect himself, but it proved a little more difficult than he first believed, especially when she was decidedly more competent than him. Not even placing his hands on her talons for a moment helped him too much.

Skizz didn’t have to fend her off for too long. Whatever False had seen, she had been too late - or Skizz had stalled long enough. Impulse came from the side, pushing his shoulder into False as he rushed forward. The shock was enough for False’s grasp on Skizz’s shoulders to fade, and Skizz crawled away as quickly as he could. False attempted to pursue him, but Impulse had drawn his sword now and stood in the way.

Zed and Tango quickly crowded around Skizz, helped him stand up. Zedaph offered him a healing potion, which Skizz gladly drank. The wounds created by the talons slowly healed again, though the holes in his clothes would need to be sewed back up at some point.

When Skizz looked at Impulse and False, it looked like False surrendered. Her sword had fallen to the ground and Impulse held out his own, ready to strike if she decided to get her sword back. She didn’t quite put her hands in the air, but she had stopped her assault. Now, she looked at the group, her gaze jumping from person to person, though it lingered the longest on Skizz.

“Are you alright?” Impulse called out.

“I’m fine,” Skizz answered. Then, he looked directly at False. “Could you stop doing that?!”

There was not even a single shred of remorse on False’s face, even as Skizz was getting agitated. It made Skizz believe that, without his friends around, she would have dragged him all the way back to Scar and Cub and put him back into that cell.

“It’s nothing personal,” she answered calmly.

“It does start to feel like it,” Tango responded, folding his arms. “It’s happening way too often.”

“Can’t you just not fulfill the contract?” Zedaph suggested. “Skizz is the chosen one, after all. I’m sure we’ll be able to pull some strings at the Lore Kingdom–”

“I have to keep trying,” False interrupted him. “My employer really wants to have him.”

“Who’s that, anyway?” Skizz wondered. If that question was cleared up, perhaps they could take their own precautions. Not that they would be able to meet that employer, but they would at least know where to deposit their complaints or where to stay away from. “Who’s out to get me?”

Impulse took one step closer, never lowering his guard or his sword. “Speak, harpy.”

False nodded once. “My employer is the drowned champion. Gem.”

The name rippled through the group, seemed to linger in the air. All held their breaths as that realization washed over them. The forest grew a little more claustrophobic and the tension rose instantly.

“Gem…” Tango breathed. His face had gone just a shade paler.

“Wait, isn’t that…” Skizz’s brain was working overtime - he’d heard that name before, only once, and he wasn’t sure if he was correct. “That’s the winged woman at the underwater church, isn’t it? The one who wanted to kill me?”

Tango nodded once. “That’s the one.”

“Now it makes sense…” Zedaph muttered.

Skizz frowned. “What does?”

“Who hired False!” Zed said. “She used to be a pirate, you know, and it does make sense that she’s taking contracts from creatures that can’t really leave the ocean without extended and intense harm to themselves.”

That sounded rather painful. That had to be so sad, knowing that you have to stay in the ocean or hurt yourself trying to go on land. The same went for the undead at the Undead Republic, even if they had carved out a piece of the world for themselves and shrouded it in eternal clouds to prevent the sun from reaching them. What truly confounded Skizz, though, was False apparently had been a pirate. He really shouldn’t be surprised pirates existed here - perhaps it had already been mentioned once - but he would have never guessed that False would have been a sea-faring scoundrel in a past life. Maybe that was why she was such a good swordswoman.

And then there was the nature of the contract between False and Gem, and the why behind it. Now that was the biggest mystery.

“I don’t understand,” Skizz said. “Is she still that mad that we took the ring? I don’t really know what else it could be.”

He looked at his companions. Perhaps they would know or understand - they did know the world a bit better than he did, after all, and they might have more success gleaning the reasons behind the actions of others more readily.

“It doesn’t matter,” Impulse was quick to say. He still kept his gaze on False. “At least we now know what’s up, so if anything happens, we know where to go for complaints.”

That put a new idea into Skizz’s mind.

“Oh, if we have some free time and we’re ever near the ocean again, we could clear stuff up.”

That would be great. Visit the oceanside and dip their toes in, wait for the drowned champion to find them. And then they would be able to ask her why herself instead of guessing or hearing it from a second-hand source. Perhaps they could even part as… well, not as allies, but at least she might call off the contract after whatever perceived sleight against her has been resolved. That would be great.

“It might not be smart for you to go and see her in person,” Tango said, ever the cautious one. “But, yeah. Maybe.”

“May I go?” False then asked. She glanced at the sword at her feet. She didn’t make any attempts yet to pick it up, waiting.

Impulse wasn’t so keen on the idea. “Will you pursue Skizz in the future?”

“I have a contract,” she simply said, as though that answered the question. It did, but more so in a roundabout way. Enough to give Impulse pause and not to immediately do something.

“Let her go,” Skizz said. Impulse glanced behind him, a questioning look on his face, but Skizz nodded. She didn’t mean him any actual harm, and didn’t want to kill him, either. She just needed to bring him to Gem, and that wasn’t a crime - just a stupid contract. He did point a finger at False. “But you can’t do anything to me for the next 24 hours. That’s how that works.”

Impulse frowned and whispered. “Really?”

“I don’t know,” Skizz confessed in that same whisper tone, “but please play along.”

Impulse nodded and turned to False again, putting his sword back in its sheath. His hand still rested upon it, though.

“You heard him. Leave.”

False bent over and picked her sword from the ground. She, too, sheathed it and glanced over the group one last time. 

“Until next time.” She unfurled her wings, turned around and flew away. Impulse watched her until she had left his field of vision, while the others were quicker to let their guards down again. Tango even sighed in relief because she had left. 

“That was intense,” Zedaph commented.

“At least we know more about this situation than before,” Skizz said. The answers were simple enough, though the reasons behind them were still unknowable for the time being. “It just doesn’t make much sense to me. Why would Gem want to see me captured? Unless…” He looked at Impulse. “She’s not an agent of Evil X, is she?”

“No, she’s not,” Impulse responded. “She fought valiantly against him, actually.”

“Oh.” That was a detail Skizz hadn’t been expecting. “Okay, good to know.”

Then it made even less sense. If he was supposed to defeat Evil X, and she had fought Evil X and his plans in the past, then shouldn’t they work together? Shouldn’t she put some effort into making plans together instead of trying to capture him and hinder progress? Sure, being in the ocean when the Evil Empire is decidedly nowhere near it is not great for her, but that didn’t mean she had to actively work against the Chosen One. Right?

Perhaps she really was still bitter about the ring. Then again, Skizz would never know unless he asked.

But those were worries for a later time. They were nowhere near the ocean and False had left. They would be reaching the Jungle soon and seeing what they needed to do there. So, for now, Skizz cast Gem out of his mind and focused on what lay before him.