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xinoehp512

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  1. xinoehp512

    Page 10

    By xinoehp512,


    Pages
    monster, quickly dissolving away into inky black mist. Had that... just worked? 
    "Hah!" he said, leaning on his sword, too exhausted for more than a quick bark of laughter. "Take that, 'Queen of Shadows'!" Behind him, he could hear the ragged cheers of the remaining Narrators as they realized what had just happened.
    Astra let out a screech of fury and despair. "No! You will die! I will destroy you! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU-"
    The last of the withergeists swirled around and into her. Her eyes will empty pits of Void as she flew at Xino, her hateful mantra dissolving into incoherent screams of rage. Xino braced himself, raising his sword into a defensive stance. This was his opportunity. Astra was powerful, certainly, but in this moment her emotions were causing her to let her guard down. She would hit hard, but she would take a devastating blow in return. This battle was over.
    And then he looked into her empty, black, void-filled eyes, and he realized the truth. Astra knew she would die. And she didn't care. As long as she could destroy Xino in the process she didn't care. Her love was gone- what was there left to live for except revenge?
    Oh, Star, thought Xino in despair. How did it come to this?
    He'd never meant for any of this to happen. But it was all his fault. Facing down his death, a Narrator who had once been a friend, he knew it to be true. It was all his fault. And there was nothing he could do to fix it.
    Unless...
    I don't know if your listening, Fate, he thought. Maybe it's too late to ask. But I... I could use a miracle.
    Astra let out once last final scream of defiance, ink-black sword forming in her hands as she prepared to strike the lethal blow. Xino stood his ground, resolute, waiting to die-
    And then time stopped.
  2. xinoehp512

    Page 5

    By xinoehp512,


    Pages
    the man screamed.
    "You thought to defy me," snarled Tom Joebob. "You thought to turn them against me, to steal rule for yourself. Well. Now you pay the price for your defiance."
    He turned the machine on once more, more powerful than ever. Rage and hate and pleasure blended together inside of him as he watched his enemy suffer.
    And then- Ralvan began to laugh. Just a chuckle at first, so quick Tom might have missed it. Then a giggle, his chest spasming slightly. Finally a long, drawn out, maniacal cackle. It was a laugh of fury and malice and joy- and Tom Joebob realized with a shock that it paralleled his emotions exactly.
    With some desperation he reactivated the machine, pouring more and more power into it until it could take no more. But no matter what he did, Ralvan would not stop laughing.
    "Fool," spat Ralvan at last, his mouth twisted into a mockery of a grin. "I do not fear pain. I do not fear Death. I do not fear anything." His eyes glinted with hate. "Unlike you. So full of fear. No matter how many times you give it up, you always find your way back to it." His eyes glinted with malice. "Tell me, Tom Joebob. Where are your family? Your friends? Your subjects? You thought yourself so clever, hiding them away. Pushing them away."
    "Safe," snarled Tom Joebob, but his heart had begun to tremble. "Safe from your lies. They would never betray me."
    At this, Ralvan devolved once more into laughter, until it seemed he could no longer breath.
    "Indeed," he replied, his face alive with hateful glee. "They never will."
    Tom's heart stopped. Surely he couldn't mean... no. That was impossible. It was impossible. He fled the cavern, Ralvan's laughter chasing after 
  3. xinoehp512
    The Silver Knight stared at the ______. For all that his friend had told him, he'd expected something... different.
    "Beautiful, isn't it?" she said now behind him, as if on cue. The Silver Knight simply continued to stare. Was she seeing something that he wasn't? When he looked at the ______, all he felt was... confused. 
    "Hey," the young woman said, her voice suddenly concerned. "You're shivering."
    All of a sudden, Silver realized he'd started to rub his arms without thinking. "Yeah," he replied, looking away from the ______. Somewhere in the last few minutes, the temperature had taken a plunge. Goosebumps had risen up on his arms, and he was barely able to keep his teeth from chattering. "Guess there's a cold spell. Weird."
    The woman studied Silver for a moment, her face unreadable. "It's... not that cold outside. The temperature hasn't changed at all, in fact."
    Silver blinked. What? The cold certainly felt real. Was it just a figment of his imagination? His eyes flicked back to the ______. It couldn't be that... could it?
    "So, what do you think?" asked the woman. Silver realized with a start that her voice and all the other sounds around him were slightly muted, as if he was hearing them from a long way off. "The ______ is pretty incredible, right?"
    Silver shook his head. "I... I don't understand."
    The woman cocked her head. "What's there not to understand about it? Look! The ______, the ______, the ______... even the ______ is ______!" She leaned closer in. Her expression no longer looked friendly. "You're the one that's not making any sense. The ______ is a good thing. A great thing, even. Why can't you understand that?"
    The Silver Knight took a step back. "What? I don't- That's not what I-" He cut off, feeling a sudden lurch in his stomach as he realized that they were no longer alone in the clearing. A small crowd of people were standing between each of the pillars that surrounded the space, their faces showing expressions which could only be described as hostile.
    "You hate it," the woman hissed, all traces of friendliness gone. "You want to destroy the ______, don't you?"
    "What?" stammered Silver, taking a step back. "No! I don't- that doesn't make any sense!"
    "I won't let you," the woman replied, her eyes narrowing. She stepped forward, pushing Silver further and further back. "None of us will."
    Abruptly Silver's backwards retreat was halted when someone behind him shoved him forwards. He cried out, barely managing to keep his footing as he stumbled. When the next push came, he had no chance. He fell to the ground, shivering, as the faceless crowd closed in around him.
    It was cold. So cold.
  4. xinoehp512
    The Silver Knight felt the nightmare coming before it arrived.
    It started as it always did- a burst of sudden dizziness. His vision narrowed, the world seeming to spin around him. He tried to stand up, but the ground was rocking beneath his feet like a ship in a storm. Someone grabbed his arm, steadying him - thank you, Black - but his vision was already starting to darken. The world around him dimmed as though covered in thick black fog. As his consciousness drifted away, he could hear the shouts of the Black Knight.
    "Remember!" he roared. "Prepare yourself!"
    With that, the light fled.
     
    The Silver Knight opened his eyes to a blue sky.
    He pushed himself to his feet, careful not to strain any of injuries- then abruptly realized that there weren't any injuries. Stunned, he raised a hand to his shoulder and felt only soft fabric. Glancing down, he realized that instead of armor, he was wearing a silver T-shirt and black shorts. His hands, too, were different- the callouses and scars gone. He turned them over a few times, marveling, then looked up and around at his surroundings.
    A few feet  in front of him, a creek poured over a small cliff in a burbling waterfall. The river wound away and out of sight behind one of the many trees that surrounded him on all sides. He stood on a path of smooth white stone that wound parallel to the stream in both directions. Slowly, haltingly, still not entirely believing what his eyes were telling him, the Silver Knight took a few steps forward and knelt down by the side of the stream. He reached out, letting his fingers trail through the pouring stream of the waterfall.
    "You're awake!" a voice suddenly spoke out behind him. The Silver Knight jumped, spinning around to face a young woman with red hair who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She raised her hand to her mouth. "Oh! I'm sorry, did I startle you?"
    The Silver Knight exhaled, relaxing. "Only a little bit. Was I... asleep?"
    "Of course!" the young woman replied. "You've been dozing here for almost a whole day!" She suddenly looked at the knight with concern. "You do feel well rested, don't you?"
    "Uh..." the Silver Knight blinked, suddenly realizing that he felt extraordinarily awake. "Yeah," he answered, surprise evident in his voice. "Yeah, I do!"
    The young woman smiled. "Great! The others thought we should move you somewhere else, but I didn't want to risk waking you up when you were sleeping so peacefully... I'm glad it worked out!" All of a sudden, she grabbed his hand and started dragging him down the path. "But anyway! Something happened while you were asleep! You need to see this."
    The Silver Knight stumbled forwards as he was dragged along behind his new- or maybe old? - red-haired friend. "Something new?" he gasped once his breath caught up to him. "What is it?"
    "The ______!" she shouted back over her shoulder. "Or at least, that's what we call it!"
    The Silver Knight stumbled all of a sudden, tripping over a branch and nearly yanking his companion to the ground. She paused, helping him get back to his feet, looking at him with puzzled eyes. "Are you alright?"
    "Yeah," Silver replied, his eyes fixed on branch he'd tripped over. At the end of it was a brown leaf, shriveled and dead. He looked up, but the trees looked as green as ever. He pulled his eyes away. Something about what she'd said... was it just his imagination? "Yeah. I just tripped."
    The young woman's hand flew to her mouth again. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have dragged you. Here, we can walk the rest of the way. It's not far." She started off in a quick, bouncing stride, and Silver hastily followed her. "The ______ is going to blow. Your. Mind. I just know it!"
    Goosebumps rose up on Silver's arms. He pulled them close to himself, shivering. Had he imagined that chilling breeze when she said... that strange word? He rubbed his arms and tried to put it out of his mind as they reached an archway blocked by a closed door.
    The red-haired woman stopped. "Here it is," she whispered, excitedly. "Are you ready?"
    Silver nodded, trying to keep the knot of tension slowly building in his stomach from manifesting in his expression. "Yeah! I'm excited. You've been hyping this up pretty hard."
    His companion gave him a sly smile. "When you see it you'll understand." She reached out and grabbed hold of the door handle, pulling it open dramatically. "I present... the ______!"
  5. xinoehp512
    Clang.
    Clang.
    Clang.
    It was dusk.
    The two men had been fighting for hours, ringing their weapons against each other under the slowly setting sun. Or at least, it had felt like hours; time was strange here, in this land of dreams and shadows. As far as they knew, it had always been dusk.
    To anyone watching, it was clear that the taller of the two was winning. Clad in all black, and wielding a spear to match, he swung as though he had only just begun to fight. Each movement was precise, controlled, and powerful, and he pressed the offense relentlessly.
    His opponent, by contrast, showed every second of their battle upon his face. The clattering of his tarnished silver armor mingled with his heavy breaths as he struggled to block each of the Black Knight's terrifying swings with his own weapon- a broken sword, the blade snapped off a few inches above the hilt. Despite all this, he somehow seemed to be managing to hold off his opponent's unyielding attack.
    But then his foot caught on a patch of uneven ground, throwing off his stance. It was only for a fraction of a second, but that was enough. The Black Knight's spear crashed into the Silver Knight's shoulder, knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling to the ground in a clatter of metal on stone. "Yield," the Silver Knight forced out immediately, but his opponent - the clear victor - had already halted.
    "That was well fought," declared the Black Knight.
    The Silver Knight looked up balefully. "Don't lie to me."
    A snort. "You of all people should know I would never give you a false compliment. Besides, you didn't let me finish. I was going to say, that was well fought for someone who insists on fighting with a broken sword."
    The Silver Knight glanced at his sword. The jagged edge of the break was dull, worn down by time. His eyes closed. "You know why I use this weapon. Why I have to."
    "It won't last you forever," warned the Black Knight in a low voice. "You know that."
    "Yes," replied the Silver Knight tonelessly. "I know." He flexed his legs, preparing to sit up - then let out a grunt of pain and grabbed his shoulder. Leaking out from under his collar were a few drops of blood.
    The Black Knight immediately knelt down to take a closer look at the injury. "What? I didn't hit you that hard... did I?"
    "No," the Silver Knight panted, his eyes closed. "Old- old wounds."
    The Black Knight sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh."
    They sat for several minutes in silence, remembering.
  6. xinoehp512
    As discussed prior, the energy of the multiverse can be divided into four quadrants. Each quadrant has its own mechanics associated with it, including a solid form of that energy. These solids are known as fundamental substances, for it is from them that the worlds are made.
    Chaotic-Darkness: Mordite
    Unlike other forms of chaotic-dark essence, mordite does not destroy things it comes in contact with. Under most circumstances, it is inert. It can even be alloyed with other materials.This does not mean it is not dangerous, however; in fact, due to one simple property, mordite is perhaps the most dangerous thing in all of existence. This property of mordite is its ability to kill anything. No being is safe; not humans, not robots, not gods. Even the Witherlord could be slain with a mordite blade (that is, barring his ability to simply control any mordite that might be wielded against him). Just because a mordite blade can kill doesn't mean it always will - a glancing blow, one that does not strike the core of a being, will only gravely wound. But it will wound, resisting whatever magical healing factor the creature might have.
    Ordered-Darkness: Nullite
    Not much is known about the nullite: it is only the ennullers that have access to it, and they are notoriously secretive. Nullite is used to power the magic system of Silence, including the barriers that keep the most powerful entities in the universe trapped. 
    Chaotic-Light: Prismite (commonly known as Narrativium)
    Prismite is by far the most common of the fundamental substances, especially within the confines of the Wall. Pieces of it are known as dream crystals and are used by various dream artists as a source of power for innumerable magic systems. Dream crystals are also used by dyrlings in a similar fashion to power their wild magic.
    Prismite is the substance that forms the matter of the world. Each dream crystal contains within it its own world, known as a dreamscape. Dream artists manipulate this dreamscape- consciously or unconsciously - and then project it onto the prismite of reality. The most powerful examples of this are the Narrators, who dictate whatever they desire.
    Ordered-Light: Luxite
    Luxite has been almost completely eradicated from reality in the present day. It specializes in the manipulation and the control of energy. Its best-known use is as a weapon against chaotic-dark entities, but it is also critical in maintaining the structure of the universe. Luxite forms the foundation upon which everything else is built, and without it all of reality would be subject to the ravages of the Void. 
  7. xinoehp512
    Nautilus
    On Nautilus, water is life. The liquid that elsewhere in the multiverse is merely a combination of hydrogen and oxygen here acts as a reservoir for mystical power that sustains the many fantastical beings that call this world home.
     
    The Southern Continent
    The entire southern hemisphere of Nautilus is covered with land. At the south pole is the one and only mountain on the continent, from which all rivers spring. These rivers act as conduits for the great storms of the sea, who shower life-giving energy along their shorelines as they travel back and forth from the Great Mountain. But the storms travel only in set corridors: outside of these paths, the continent is a barren desert. 
     
    The Northern Sea
    The entire Northern Hemisphere is covered with water. Most beings who dwell here do so beneath the surface in places where the water is shallow enough to be powered by the light of the sun. Not all make their home beneath the waves, however; for the sky is filled with floating islands.
     
    The Mountain
    The mountain of the southern pole is the largest mountain on the globe. Indeed, it is the only mountain on the globe. It is surrounded constantly by the combined power of hundreds of storms all resting atop its peak; this alone makes it impossible for any human to scale. Every drop of water in the Continents rivers comes from this eternal storm. The storms gather here because of the southern lights, which energize water more powerfully than any other light on the planet.
     
    The Storms
    The storms of Nautilus are no mere collections of clouds: they are alive. While they are powerful and dangerous, without the energy that they rain down upon the surface nothing on the continent would be able to survive. Storms gain intelligence upon their first trip to the Mountain. The storms must remain over water in order to maintain themselves: otherwise, they will subside and become a caelichi.
     
    The Islands
    The islands of the North Sea come in a variety of sizes, from the smallest newborns barely a few yards across to the most ancient islands wide enough to block out the horizon. In their youth, they soar the skies; as they grow, however, they sink to ride the waves. Whether they are old or young, however, the islands are dependent on the sea for energy. Their abilities are powered by the aqueous crystals that form their hearts. These crystals also grant them great connective power. It is by connecting to the plants and animals that live upon them that the islands gain sentience. The heart-crystals are formed from captured storms; these storms do not desire this fate. This has led to many wars between the two groups. The islands have the advantage over the storms, (hence why the storms are confined mostly to the continent), but steer clear of the Continent in order to avoid getting ganged up on.
     
  8. xinoehp512
    Here we go, said Cirrus as Cynthia jumped over the edge.
    For a moment, she felt weightless as she fell. Then with a flash of blue, Cirrus's power kicked in. The winds gathered around Cynthia, slowing her descent - then redirecting it upwards. Cynthia let out a laugh as she rocketed upwards. It was shockingly cold, but what did that matter? She was flying.
    All of a sudden, a Hyxali was directly in her path. Cynthia yelped and tried to dodge out of the way. She wasn't quite fast enough. Instead, she bounced off the worker and went into an uncontrolled spin, careening off in a dizzying spiral.
    She felt the winds buffet her to a stop in midair. Slow down, Cirrus advised.
    Of course, thought Cynthia, chastised. She shot up in the air again - but this time at a much more manageable speed. Still, it was only a minute or so before she reached the top of the chamber. As she approached, she noticed thousands of person-sized holes in the crystalline barrier through which Hyxali would occasionally fly. Curious, Cynthia let the winds carry her through one of the holes.
    The first thing that struck her eyes as she ascended beyond the ceiling was how bright it was. High in the sky hung a light source so brilliant it was painful to look at. A sun, she realized. She resisted the urge to stare at it. It really was bright. Much brighter than she could have possibly imagined. It made the brilliant white of the structure even more blinding. Looking around now, she realized she could see large white stone columns in the distance. Other Outposts, she supposed.
    Twirling around, she was immediately struck by the massive pillar at the center of the structure, easily double the height of  the one she had just flown out of. Then, as she flew higher and higher, she realized that it was actually miles away.
    Wonder how long it took them to build this, Cirrus mused.
    Me too, thought Cynthia. Her father probably knew, but that knowledge had not been passed to her. Probably a long time. Look, it's still under construction. Sure enough, near the circumference of the Outpost were several columns midway through construction. There didn't seem to be many Hyxali working on them, however. Odd.
    Where should we explore first? asked Cirrus.
    The center column, Cynthia decided after a moment of thought. But we should try to get there through the tunnels. We'll see more that way. 
    Makes sense to me, Cirrus replied. Cynthia sank on the winds back down into the column. She picked a hole that seemed to lead in the right direction and started flying. For the next several minutes, she flew through the tunnels of theh Outpost. Layout wise, it seemed to consist of mulltiple giant columns of empty space connected by short tunnels. Made sense for a species whose primary method of locomotion was flight. The other thing she noticed as she flew through the outpost was the color of the Hyxali. Most were olive-skinned, but many were... gray. Lifeless-looking. They acted more or less the same as the non-grey Hyxali, although Cynthia found their buglike eyes hard to read. Altogether, they seemed to be about half of all the Hyxali she passed.
    What do you think? she queried Cirrus.
    They look... undead, Cirrus replied. Cynthia felt a slight chill at the thought. What reason could they have to use so many reanimated corpses? Perhaps that was simply the custom here, to make the most use out of each worker. Cynthia made a mental note to ask her father about it later.
    How close do you measure us to be? she asked Cirrus after several more minutes of flying.
    A mile or so, Cirrus replied. We should- He cut off suddenly. Wait. What was that?
    What was what?
    Something red. It went down the tunnel to your left. 
    Cynthia turned down the tunnel Cirrus had indicated - and nearly flew into a red, scaly humanoid. She took a step back, stumbling, and swallowed. A holed, she realized. He was looking right at her now, along with the Hyxali who had been conversing with him just moments before. Her eyes, unlike the other Hyxali, were unmistakably human. Cynthia didn't have much time to think about that, however, panicked as she was by the holed's appearance. She stood frozen like a squirrel in the eye of a fox for a few moments, too terrified to move.
    Run! Cirrus hissed in her mind, and she snapped out of it. With a burst of blue energy, she dissipated herself into nothingness.
  9. xinoehp512
    The Dies Luxfrang
    It all started with Xinoehp. He was a young luxsprite; at only sixty-four years of age, he was the youngest noble to ever sit on the King's Council. This unique situation came about due to his parents waiting until their early nine hundreds to have a child, right before their millenium of life elapsed. 
    This backstory gives context to his actions that fateful day. In pursuit of power free of limitations, he inadvertently opened a crack in the defenses of the luxsprite's energy network. The very heart of the empire was left exposed to the creatures of the Void.
    One in particular took notice. He had been a human, once, dissatisfied with the luxsprite's reign. He had found a spirit of darkness, a mighty one, and sought to gain its power. But before he could use his newfound power to topple the luxsprites, he was caught and exiled to the Void. For years he had waited for an opportunity to take his revenge... and Xinoehp had just handed it to him.
    In the blink of an eye,  the Witherlord struck. The crystal that powered the luxsprites' empire was shattered. The luxsprites were thrown into disarray as an army of withergeists swarmed into the now-vulnerable reality, destroying anything and everything they encountered. Within hours, the unprepared leaders of the luxsprites had been broken and turned by the Witherlord, becoming his new most powerful liutenants. By the end of the day, every living luxsprite shared their fate.
    All save for one. Xinoehp, the last luxsprite, got what he wanted; he became the first Narrator. Unfortunately, as his powers shattered, so did his memories. As more mortals took up the shattered power of the luxsprites, he faded into the background- just another Narrator among hundreds.
  10. xinoehp512
    Rekaerb Cerelius
    Rekaerb does not know how he came to be.
    The very first memory he has is waking with two pieces of knowledge in his mind. The first was his signature ability: replicating himself. Rekaerb can split himself into multiple bodies that all share a single consciousness. This ability makes him practically impossible to kill - and, therefore, very, very dangerous. Thus the second knowledge: he cannot interfere with the course of history. He is an observer, nothing more.
    He has used his unique opportunity to learn everything he can about the world. He has explored universes that no human has ever set foot on. He has studied the fundamentals of reality in greater detail than almost anyone else. Along the way, he discovered and bonded an entity known as Cerulean that contained the ability to manipulate space- an ability that, as an explorer, he has used to the fullest extent.
     
    Relationships
    Besides Cerulean, Rekaerb has only one relationship of note; his daughter, Cynthia. Created by accident while experimenting with his replication ability, she shares his powers (including a cloned spirit of Cerulean named Cirrus) and restrictions. She inherited much of his knowledge and all of his curiosity. Rekaerb cares deeply for Cynthia, although he is often reluctant to show it. Her transformation into Y has left him disillusioned and withdrawn from the world.
  11. xinoehp512
    Withergeists
    Withergeists are entities of chaotic darkness. Originally of the Void, they are enraged by the Light of existence. Their presence in reality is based in one goal; the destruction of everything. They make their way through the cracks in reality, taking form as incorporeal spirits that decay all that they touch.
    But existence in reality is painful for them, especially the light that fills it. In addition, most are no more intelligent than animals in their goals of destruction. This combined makes the weakest of their number no more dangerous than a plague of cockroaches or mice. Even most of the more powerful withergeists lack the cunning of man, making them simple to deal with once one has become familiar with them.
    The real danger, then, is not the withergeists themselves, but those who seek to use them. By bonding with a withergeist, mortals can gain a number of powerful abilities- including the ability to control other withergeists. Some take this power for their own gain; others believe that they can use it for good. All, however, eventually find their perspectives warped to align with the spirits that grant them their power.
    Inevitably, this power will destroy them, and their spirits will join the ranks of the withergeists.
    The Fallen
    The greatest and most powerful of the withergeists are the luxsprites who were corrupted by the Witherlord. When other withergeists see only a tower to be torn down, the Fallen see a stronghold for an army that will tear down a kingdom.
    A few of their number are:
    Erechon, former King of the Luxsprites, is adept at manipulating life- and death.
    Verdellia, former Queen of the Luxsprites, specializes in extending her ability beyond her original host.
    Adrastos, former Prince of the Luxsprites, has mastered creating dark reflections of existing energy systems.
    Naseir, once a great scholar, gives his hosts the knowledge to forge implements of shadow.
    The Fallen work to bring about the return of their master, a spirit more powerful than even they, known as the Witherlord.
    The Witherlord
    The moniker of "Witherlord" can refer to two things. First is the mantle of dark power that represents Chaotic Darkness itself. This mantle enjoys limited sentience but lacks consciousness, rendering it essentially impotent until it finds a host. These hosts also bear the name of "Witherlord", for they merge with the memories and knowledge that the Dark Mantle holds.
    It was the first bearer of the Dark Mantle that destroyed the luxsprites. It would not have stopped there, had it not been for the intervention of the Ennullers. They destroyed its host and trapped it in a prison inside of a prison, sealing it beyond the reach of any who might be tempted by the power it promised.
    Or so they thought.
  12. xinoehp512
    Cynthia awoke to a colorless world. Walls, floors, ceiling, bed- all were formed from spotless white. She sat up, raising her hands in front of her face. They looked normal. It's just the room, then. That was a relief; she rather liked color.
    Where are we? she asked Cirrus.
    Your guess is as good as mine, he responded. I passed out when you did.
    Apologies, Cynthia replied. I will limit myself next time.
    Don't worry about it, Cirrus replied. I've never gotten knocked out before! It was fun. You should look around.
    Cynthia agreed. She was quite curious about her new surroundings. she walked over to her door and peeked out into the hallway. It wasn't very long. Across from her on the opposite wall were two doors each leading to their own room. At the end of the hall to the left was a bathroom, the door ajar. To the right the hallway opened up into a larger room.
    Cynthia decided to check out the door directly across from her first. She opened the door. For a moment, she wondered if she'd traveled in time- there she was, lying on the bed, in a room nearly identical to the one she'd been in moments before. Quickly she realized what it was: a clone of herself. She stared at it for a moment before leaving the room.
    At the end of the hallway was a kitchen leading into a dining room. To the left was what looked to be some sort of living room. Windows lined the walls, the first windows Cynthia had seen so far. They straddled a door leading outside. Curious, Cynthia went to investigate.
    The door opened easily, and she stepped out onto the balcony. As she took in the view, she stopped. The door she had just walked out of was one of many lining an enormous cylinder that stretched for thousands of feet both upwards and downwards. The air wasn't empty, either: it was filled with thousands upon thousands of flying people zipping back in forth in an elegant bustle. Entranced, Cynthia walked up to the edge to get a better view.
    "Careful," a voice said behind her. Cynthia spun around to see her father, Rekaerb, standing in a place he had most definitely not been a few seconds before.
    "It is perfectly safe," she assured her father. "I can fly. Even if I could not, I would simply return to a clone of myself if I were to perish."
    "Spoken as one who's never fallen off a skyscraper before," Rekaerb commented drily. "And yes, I did have Cerulean. Panic does strange things. Which, incidentally, is why I brought you here! Universe Hexagon, the safest place I know. You'll be able to practice your abilities here until you're a little more... adept."
    He meant until she could maintain control of more than one clone for an extended period of time. That was what had caused her blackout prior to awakening here - attempting to use multiple perspectives at once. Once she could do that, she could do what her father did and split herself across the multiverse to learn about everything there was, safe from death by sheer number of clones. But while cloning was undoubtedly the most powerful of her abilities... Cynthia felt her gaze drawn to the fleets of insectoid beings flitting through the air.
    "I see flying appeals to you," her father commented.
    "Yes," Cynthia replied, the sighed. "But I know cloning is more important."
    Rekaerb waved a hand. "Eh, you've had enough practice cloning. Go have some fun. Explore. Talk to some of the Hyxali, if any are up for a chat. One thing though - if you see any lizzardlike people, stay as far away from them as you can."
    "More than that - they're important. Remember Rule #1?"
    "Observe. Don't interfere," recited Cynthia.
    "You got it." Rekaerb nodded. "Go have some fun."
    Before he had even finished the phrase, Cynthia was airborne.
  13. xinoehp512
    One moment, there was nothing.
    The next, there she was.
    It was no birth in the mortal sense - messy, involved, painful - just a flash of light, and awareness. Clean, simple, and detached. Just like the man who faced her now with a curious gaze.
    “Strange,” he murmured. “Why are you disconnected?”
    In response, unbidden knowledge rising to her lips. “I am not you.”
    She felt the words settle like a cast-iron mold around her, shaping her mind and soul, their truth made incontrovertible by her own declaration. She might have been made from his power, created with intent to be just a different form of him, but she was not just another of his clones. Her will, her identity, her memories were all out of his grasp now.
    She saw that realization cross his eyes, saw his surprise deepen into shock that just as quickly hid itself away.
    “If you are not me,” he said, calm, “then who?”
    She felt the sounds pass her lips without thought. “I am Cynthia Cerelius.”
    She felt the words fall over her in a whir of strokes like a thousand painter’s brushes, each imprinting the smallest touch of color. Each carried a single emotion with it - sadness, joy, fury, contentment, regret, pride, countless others - all spelling out the characters in her autoeponymous command. She gasped. She had a name. She was Cynthia.
    But Cynthia could feel there was something missing. Two statements she had given, shaping and coloring her soul. There needed to be a third- and as soon as the thought entered her mind, she knew what it was.
    “I am your daughter,” she finished.
    Cynthia felt the words explode into her, filling her soul with bright blue light. It sang with freedom, with movement, with touching the sky and escaping into the stars, breaking the limits of dimensional reality. She knew it for what it was; the spirit bound to her father’s soul, reborn in her own. It would need a new name, of course; like herself, it was distinct from the power from which it had been formed. Cirrus, Cynthia thought - and he was named. 
    Her father - Rekaerb - simply stared at her, his mouth agape. 
    “Well,” he finally managed. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
    --
    Cynthia watched closely as her father split in two. It happened in an instant: one moment, there was one of him; the next, there were two. Both copies opened their eyes and looked back at Cynthia with eerie synchronicity.
    "Replication," they said in unity. "The power at the core of our essence."
    Cynthia returned the gaze with curiosity. "What does that mean? We were created from that power?"
    The Rekaerbs blinked, and one vanished out of existence. "I... well, I don't know. I don't remember how I was created. That was a long time ago, in a different world." He shrugged. "I've had the ability to replicate for as long as I could remember. It's the power I use the most, and the one I understand the best." He looked at Cynthia, then sighed. "Well. Thought I understood the best."
    "I apologize for disturbing your own self-understanding," replied Cynthia solemnly. 
    Rekaerb raised an eyebrow slightly. "...Don't mention it." He shook his head. "Anyways. We're not here for me, we're here for you. You have the ability to replicate, I take it?"
    "Yes," replied Cynthia. "I am certain. It is my birthright."
    "Do it, then."
    Cynthia closed her eyes and reached within.
    At first, the swirling threads of blue representing her energy to her mind's eye were unreadable. She moved her mental gaze from one thread to another, following the threads like one untying a knot. But the power shifted ever so slightly as she viewed it, frustrating her attempts at understanding it. Thoughts snuck into her mind. What if... she didn't have the ability her father had? Her heart rate quickened at the thought, her eyes twitching behind her tightly shut lids, and her hands clenching into fists.
    "Don't think about it too hard," advised Rekaerb. "Like I said. Just... do it."
    Cynthia hesitated. Perhaps...? She reached out to the tangled knot in her mind, but this time- instead of untangling it - she pulled.
    Cynthia opened her eyes and saw herself.
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