Link for all the chapters available for free here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road
Deep in the groaning halls of sinew and bone he awaited his audience with the god. At a wave of his hand the ribs which held up the ceiling contracted, tendons shifting within the pink walls of the chamber as the jagged, calcareous spurs that composed the doorway sank back into the spongy masses of tissue, revealing a passage curving down and out of sight.
Menash stood before the yawning portal and considered eternity. This was no an idle thought: here in the Dawning Chamber, the concept was very real. His father, Yulan, had stood in this exact spot times beyond count. When he was struck down in his prime by the Night Weaver and her Leaper offspring, torn limb from limb as he fought to defend Chthonis from a raiding party, Menash’s uncle, Aqavarr, had carried his broken remains over that grinning threshold to join the hosts of the dead, never to return.
A hot and heavy exhalation rattled up out of the depths, wafting in the acrid scent of the bonding pools and the wet slithering sound of the rebirthing canals. Menash felt a crackle of static in the corners of his mind before the signal sharpened and he heard It whisper distinctly:
“Enter…”
The familiar dread crept its way up the small of his back, and he gave a little shiver. No matter how many times he had communed with the Vitalus, he’d never been able to shake the feeling of his utter insignificance. But he persevered, walking bravely down the slurping passage, past the rows of broad antechambers lining either side of the hallway. Each one held a slumbering shape immersed in a cryogenic bath, towering hulks of muscle encased in ribbed and riveted plates of chitin. No two were alike in size or physiology, but all seemed to emanate the same primeval aura of dread that tickled Menash’s fight-or-flight-instinct, skewing it very much towards the latter response. These were the Hollowores, soulless avatars of the Vitalus, each one a tool capable of eradicating an entire species. As Menash approached, one of the living weapons stirred to life. A pronged, anvil-shaped head emerged from the bath, umbilical feeder tubes detaching from its armored flanks as the rest of its bulk followed, its mauve exoskeleton as sleek and shiny as amethyst. The Hollowore extended legs as thick as grown pine trees and lifted itself above him, its pairs of crushing pincers dripping amniotic fluids as it herded him towards the central room.
Bundles of white gossamer filaments spread all across the floor, encircling steaming pools of pus and acid. He saw arms and legs, sensory organs and entire exoskeletons being knitted before his very eyes, the amino acid chains being stitched on a layer at a time, the weeping pus evidence of microphages fighting off possible infections as the Vitalus did Its work.
These were the next generation of exomorphs, yet to be assigned to their hosts. It was here that Vitalus constantly improved the only thing that could ensure the continued survival of Menash’s subspecies. Exomorphs were bonded to Gallivants at birth, the organisms supplying their hosts with the means to breathe an atmosphere they was never meant to endure, and the strength to fight in a world that was red in tooth and claw. They were as swift as the summer wind and could multiply their host’s muscular power by up to twelve times their natural output.
But for all their God-given might, Gallivants were still mortal. They could and often did perish in the endless struggle for existence that the Vitalus called the Great Game. But even in death they could still commit their essence to posterity, passing down their defining traits through the malleable genetic code of the gilt helix. It was the Vitalus’ greatest boon; through the gilt helix a single individual could become a progenitor of an entire generation, becoming at one stroke the father of whole nations and peoples.
One day he too would prove worthy of the honor that Yulan had earned with his life. But he was not alone in that ambition. Menash was annoyed to find the crimson-clad Vezda and the cowardly Racek waiting for him inside, standing next to a large ball of filaments that hung from a tonsil-like growth hanging from the walls.
This node pulsed, emitting a small storm of bioelectric activity, networks of fungi conveying commands in the form of oscillating voltages to their communities of symbiotic bacteria, the latter containing greigite mineral crystals aligned in the shape of electromagnetic coils. Other networks hidden in the walls modulated and amplified the signals, and the three Gallivants steeled themselves for the onrushing flood of information as the Vitalus tapped into their minds.
He was a candle before the raging heart of the thunderstorm. For an instant Menash touched a fraction of Its intelligence, the divisions of time and space rolling back as they joined the ocean of shared consciousness, becoming one with the living systems of Arachnea. From the tiniest aeroplankton floating above the waves of the golden coastlines, to the herds of ultrapods munching their way through swathes of trees in the savannahs. Menash felt himself pushing up out of the soil, longing and lusting and reaching for the sunlight with a trillion green fingers uncurling, alive with the furious movement of life.
But what was that flicker of orange to the east? That searing heat, that prickling pain spreading like a cancer down his side?
The Vitalus scooped them up and hurled them headlong into hell itself. A roaring wildfire was sweeping into the heart of the eastern rainforests. Menash tasted ash and ruin, felt pieces of himself wither and burn, his branches tongues of fire, wood cracking from the intense blaze, sap boiling instantaneously upon contact and rupturing, splitting him right down the grain. He fled in terror, running, slithering, digging, swimming, flying away in crazed panic from the walls of red death closing in on him. As his skin flaked off in clumps of charcoal he looked back and saw it towering over the treetops, the epicenter of this howling vortex of destruction: the grey behemoth. Its burnished metal hide gleamed like copper, reflecting the fury of the conflagration burning well into the night.
Menash pulled his mind away before it was lost forever in the storm of electric potentials. He saw Racek and Vezda swaying on their feet, breathing hard and fast.
“Heart of the World,” he managed to gasp, “What is your bidding?”
The Hollowore maneuvered itself until it was facing him directly. Tiny beady eyes fixed him in their blank gaze. The node emitted a blue pulse and the creature shuddered as it received the signal. It opened a maw powerful enough to chew boulders into gravel and rumbled:
“This one is the alpha which survived first contact with anomalous variable. It will tell Us what occurred, and from whence this threat emerged.”
“It came from the karst mountain range, where the yellowjacket Amit live,” Menash replied, “It was destroying the largest mound in that area, massacring its inhabitants. It brought the mountain down on them—we’ve never seen anything like it. Zildiz was the first on the scene. She warned us not to approach, and that it was dangerous, but some of us,” here he cast an angry look at Vezda, “Some of us went ahead and tried to scavenge from the bodies of the dying. Then the behemoth ignited the air and burned scores of us to cinders.”
“Irrational. Why did you do this?”
“W-we thought that you had spawned the grey behemoth,” Menash stammered, embarrassed to say the least, “That it was the newest addition to the Great Game, another species of ultrafauna that would help perfect Arachnea.”
“Not so. It was made by an evil far older than the All-In-One,” replied the Vitalus, “It is called a Divine Engine. In cycles past, this evil sought to undo this world and all that inhabit it. In that, it almost succeeded.”
Menash felt his blood run cold at those words.
“Is it the only one of its kind?” Racek piped up. Menash and Vezda both bristled at his interruption; subordinates were only supposed to speak when spoken to.
“There were several deployed here in Our infancy. We had thought them all destroyed in the War of Creation.”
“Your Munificence,” Racek went on, heedless of the venomous looks he was getting from the other two, “Most of us survived because Zildiz persuaded us to dive into the river. She saved all our lives! But as I washed up on the riverbank, I saw the behemoth casting a seedpod into the skies. I did not see where it landed, but it was travelling in a high arc due east. Is this the behemoth’s method of reproducing? If so, then how many offspring can it generate from this one seed?”
The Vitalus met his questions with a minute of silence. Menash had never known It to take so long to respond to a query, and felt another stab of unease in his gut. Unless he was imagining things, the Vitalus seemed genuinely disturbed by the scenario that Racek has raised, enough to convince Menash that the danger was far from hypothetical.
“That is a distant possibility,” It said somewhat cryptically, “Regardless, We cannot allow the Engine’s continued existence.”
“Then it must be destroyed,” Vezda said, her barbed tail eagerly perking up.
“We are not certain that it can be,” the Vitalus said, and Menash heard Racek audibly gulp at the admission.
“But Your Omniscience, you alone are the arbiter of growth and decay,” Vezda said in disbelief, “Surely you can unmake this monster as well?”
“Perhaps. The Divine Engines were built to withstand the extremes of temperature, gravity, atmospheric pressure, acidity and irradiation found on semi-inhabitable exoplanets. Worlds of bareness and desolation, glassed by thermonuclear bombardment or infested with alien microorganisms. In the wars of Our youth, the Betrayers used tungsten-alloy warheads fired from space platforms to crack their bulkheads. Not even Our vessels, the Hollowores, could damage them in any significant way. We will need time to gather the raw materials and fabricate the weapons needed to end this threat.”
“What must we do?” Menash asked.
“If this variable is not dealt with, it could upset the delicate balance We have sacrificed so much to achieve. Already the wildfire it has caused will release close to 400 million metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and destroy 2.3 million acres of forest before Our countermeasures can stop it. Time is our limiting factor. If the Engine cannot be destroyed now, it must be restrained.”
“It hasn’t moved an inch since we last saw it,” Vezda said brightly, “Maybe it has already died?”
“Yes, and maybe your mother was a horka toad,” Racek said snidely. Vezda scowled and took a step towards him, then stopped as she remembered that she trod on hallowed ground.
“Not so. It has merely gone dormant. Having expended its fuel, it is now running on the bare minimum of its reserves. My children, you must ensure that it does not wake again. Establish a quarantine zone around the Engine and let none approach, on pain of death. The Leaper kindreds will secure the ground while the Gallivants patrol the skies.”
Vezda and Menash exchanged troubled looks. Nobody wanted Leapers establishing a foothold in what was essentially a buffer zone between their subspecies. Once allowed to settle in a habitat, it would not take long for them to adapt and become masters of their new territory. Ousting them would become a battle of attrition, and given the lower birthrates of Gallivants, it was not one they could long afford.
“Respectfully, we do not require assistance from our brother kindred,” Menash ventured, “We are more than capable of safeguarding the area ourselves.”
The node throbbed again, the bioelectric flashes taking on an angry purple hue. With a sound like the grinding of a millstone the Hollowore clashed its claws together impatiently. All three of the mortals took a hasty step back.
“The alpha will obey, or another will be found that can,” the Vitalus growled at them, “All subspecies will observe a general truce during this period. This is a temporary addition to the Great Game. Those that serve Us well shall be rewarded. We shall also enlist the aid of your terrestrial cousins, as well as the Cataphract clans to replenish the soil, and lone Saints who shall rove beyond the quarantine zone.”
Menash’s unease deepened. The Vitalus was bringing together four different kindreds, some of which killed each other on sight, in a move that reeked of desperation. The kindreds had worked together before, of course, on complex projects such as altering rainfall patterns and husbanding struggling species, but never so many at once. This was bound to end in bloodshed.
“Those that break the truce shall be chemically neutered, and their gilt helix purged from the existing gene pool,” the Vitalus continued, “You will maintain this quarantine until We have dealt with the Engine.”
“It is understood!” Menash and Vezda said at once.
“But what about Zildiz?” Racek blurted out, again risking his entire lineage by speaking out of turn, “She might still be alive out there!”
“He’s right,” Menash found himself agreeing despite his dislike for Racek, “She’s our alpha, after all. It would be a shame to lose her helix. Do we have your leave to send out a party to recover her?”
The Vitalus pondered the request for a moment, then crushed his hopes when it said:
“Regrettable, the loss of the female. Valuable stock for the breeding program. But it has not responded to Our signals—it is unlikely to have survived. The female Vezda shall take up its duties as alpha.”
“But Your Benevolence—” both men cried out in unison.
“It is decided. She has risked the Great Game, and must abide by its outcome. To speak more on this would risk Our displeasure,” the god warned.
“We can’t spare the manpower anyway,” Vezda pointed out, trying not to look too pleased at Its decision. She darted a quick look at Menash, long enough for him to see the selfish desire festering in her heart. He turned away from her in disgust, baring his blades by the slightest of margins to let her know what he thought of her, then asked the Vitalus:
“But what of the Engine’s seedpod? Should we search for it?”
“Negative!” the Vitalus boomed, its node reinforcing the word with a spike of activity that sent needles of pain spearing into their heads, “We shall complete this task. It is dangerous and can be entrusted to no other.”
The Hollowore angled its massive head towards the cavernous ceiling, armored flaps on its back sliding aside as it unfurled sets of rigid sixty-meter wings. A wide sphincter on the roof gaped open and Menash saw the evening sky awash with the stars in their milky multitudes. The Hollowore took a deep breath through the spiracles lining its thorax and abdomen, pumping air through a pair of hollow tube-like protuberances under either of its wings. Menash and the others quickly scampered to a safe distance. Seconds later there was a scream of chemical combustion and the Hollowore rose into the evening skies, leaving behind a long trail of superheated gases, the backwash almost knocking Menash off his feet. They watched as the Hollowore gained altitude, making straight for the columns of billowing smoke on the horizon, a sweeping shadow blotting out the light of the heavens.
The Vitalus’ mental presence receded with it. When it did not return, they took it to mean that they were dismissed and likewise took flight and headed for Chthonis. They were hardly out of the Dawning Chamber when Vezda seized the scrawny Racek by his wings and anchored her feet right up against his back.
“Funny little man, are you? Crack jokes at my expense again, and I’ll see to it that you’ll never fly again!” she snarled, yanking hard. Racek yelled as his wings threatened to pop out of their sockets.
“Stop!” Menash said, ramming his shoulder into her and knocking the smaller male out of her grip. Vezda rounded on him, blades out and her tail aquiver with rage.
“As for you! No one should speak to the Vitalus like that!” she shrieked, “Much less gainsay It! Are you trying to get us all killed? It is the source and continuance of life itself—”
“But the Vitalus doesn’t always consider the individual scale of things,” Menash reasoned, controlling his rising anger as he tried to defuse the situation, “Its scope of thought is beyond ours. Therefore it is up to us to look after each other. None of us can win the Great Game alone. We need people like Zildiz for the species to prosper.”
“Your logic is flawed,” Vezda spat, “Empathy is a sham devised by the selfish action of the gene, which seeks only to preserve itself. At least I am honest enough to look after my own interests. Your obsession with that whore is misplaced. Heed my words, Menash. What happened today marks a change in the Great Game. Only the ruthless will reap the rewards of this era. Think on that, and act accordingly.”
The female darted off in another direction, leaving the two behind.
“Thanks,” Racek said, rubbing at his sore shoulders, “My, my. She’s really taking her promotion very seriously, isn’t she?”
“This doesn’t make us friends,” Menash said shortly, “We share a common interest, that’s all.”
The two flew together in silence for a time, the dark canopy unrolling below their feet. Racek had always been a bitter rival for Zildiz’s affections. In the mating seasons he and Menash had flown the damsel-dance against each other countless times, racing and dogfighting at top speed through the dense bamboo thickets in an effort to impress her.
But each time she had always chosen Menash. Naturally. He was the stronger, the braver, the son of the Scourge who had slain hundreds on his lightning raids into Leaper territory. Their pairings had been brief and passionate, yet she had always laughed at the end and gone on her merry way, a rose petal borne on a scented breeze, the dalliance as meaningless to her as other concerns like eating or breathing.
But not to him. Right now, all that mattered was her. And Racek was the only one in the whole wide world who knew exactly how he felt. Did that mean he could be trusted? Menash considered the enormity of what he was about to do, and wavered. Then he saw her face in the darkness of his home, the face she wore when they were all alone together, and he took a deep breath before breaking the silence, saying:
“I’ll be in charge of the quarantine. I can arrange for you to disappear for a few days. I can have one of the younglings mimic your magnetosynaptic signal, make it seem like you’re with the rest of us.”
“You’d do that? For me?” Racek said in astonishment.
“Hah. Not for you,” Menash laughed softly. He looked Racek straight in the eyes and continued: “What’ll it be, then?”
If he so much as hesitates, I’ll have to kill him here and now, Menash told himself.
“Why, yes. Yes, of course!” the little brown male said vigorously.
“Good,” Menash sighed with relief, “She’ll be very grateful to whoever brings her home. I’d do it myself, but as an alpha I can’t risk being seen as disobedient.”
“Then why give me this chance? After all that’s passed between us?”
“I should have thought that was obvious,” Menash replied. Racek digested that for a bit, then out of nowhere said:
“If I find her—when I find her—I’ll tell her exactly who it was that sent me.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Bah! Just so we’re even, that’s all,” Racek grinned, his mouthparts slanting askew.
“Thanks, I guess. I’d…I’d appreciate that. You do understand what we’re risking here, right?”
“Sure. We’ll be total genetic write-offs if we’re caught. But it’s not like I wanted to see tiny ugly Raceks running around the house anyway. What about you, though? Why are you putting your neck on the chopping block?”
“You know why,” Menash said quietly, his thoughts still lingering on her face.
“Yes,” Racek agreed with a wistful air, “Yes, I suppose I do.”
And the pair spoke no more until they reached Chthonis.
Link for all the chapters available for free here: Engines of Arachnea on Royal Road

The interplay between body binary scripts, biological changes, DNA evolution, and the mind is a fascinating and complex topic that spans multiple disciplines, including genetics, neuroscience, and psychology. Here’s a comprehensive overview:

1. Body Binary Scripts

Body binary scripts refer to the binary code-like instructions embedded in our DNA that direct the development and functioning of our bodies. These scripts are essentially the genetic instructions that determine everything from cell growth to the development of organs and biological systems.

2. Biological Changes

Biological changes are any alterations in the body’s structure or function. These can occur at various levels, including:

• Cellular level: Changes such as mutations in DNA, cell division, or cell death.
• Organ level: Changes in the function or structure of organs due to aging, disease, or injury.
• Systemic level: Changes that affect entire systems, such as the immune or endocrine systems.

3. DNA Evolution

DNA evolution refers to the changes in the genetic material of a population of organisms over generations. This involves:

• Mutations: Random changes in DNA sequence that can be neutral, beneficial, or harmful.
• Natural Selection: The process by which traits that enhance survival and reproduction become more common in successive generations.
• Genetic Drift: Random changes in allele frequencies in a population.
• Gene Flow: The transfer of genetic material between populations.

4. Mind Conjunction

The mind’s conjunction with biological and genetic factors involves understanding how our thoughts, behaviors, and consciousness are influenced by our biology. This includes:

• Neuroplasticity: The brain's ability to reorganize itself by forming new neural connections throughout life.
• Epigenetics: The study of changes in gene expression that do not involve alterations to the genetic code itself but are influenced by environmental factors, behaviors, and experiences.
• Psychological Factors: How emotions, thoughts, and behaviors can influence and be influenced by biological processes.

Integration of Concepts

Genetic Basis of Behavior and Cognition

Research has shown that certain genes are associated with behaviors and cognitive functions. For example, variations in genes related to neurotransmitter systems (like serotonin and dopamine) can influence mood and behavior. These genetic factors can predispose individuals to certain mental health conditions or cognitive traits.

Epigenetics and Mind-Body Interaction

Epigenetics provides a crucial link between our environment, behavior, and genetic expression. Factors such as stress, diet, and exercise can lead to epigenetic changes that affect how genes are expressed. This means that our lifestyle choices can have direct implications on our biology and, consequently, our mental states.

Neuroplasticity and Experience

The concept of neuroplasticity demonstrates the mind’s ability to change the brain’s structure and function. Learning new skills, engaging in mental exercises, and experiencing new environments can lead to physical changes in the brain, illustrating the dynamic relationship between our experiences (mind) and our biological makeup.

Evolutionary Psychology

Evolutionary psychology explores how evolutionary processes like natural selection have shaped the human mind and behavior. Traits that were advantageous for survival and reproduction in ancestral environments have been passed down and still influence modern human behavior.

Conclusion

The relationship between body binary scripts, biological changes, DNA evolution, and the mind is deeply interconnected. Genetic instructions influence our biological and physiological processes, which in turn affect our thoughts and behaviors. Simultaneously, our experiences and behaviors can lead to biological changes through mechanisms like epigenetics and neuroplasticity. Understanding these interactions helps in comprehending the complexity of human biology and the mind, providing insights into health, behavior, and evolution.

I just started writing a few months ago and this is my first one ever. It's a bit long but I hope it's a decent read for everyone.
Here I lay alone with this anvil on my chest up all night my body is screaming for some rest Smile on my face with a sickened soul Lost in the abyss, I see light but I feel so dull
loves all around me but I continue to feel alone Solitude is me, I can only reach a Gray tone Inside I'm yelling, SCREAMING! but I stay silent no one can hear me as my voice lays dormant
Im Lost in this sickness and not a soul can see The anvils holding me down, slowly drowning me The tunnel vision of suffication narrows my sight fighting to stay above, gasping, darkness takes the light
My Blinders aide me in protraying that im strong Blocking the darkness, but im weak, internally I feel wrong This haze called life is makeing it difficult to see I don't know how to handle this I'm losing me
Its as if im split in two, one watches as the others on the edge But the haze makes it difficult to see me on the ledge It looks like little hands, yes, little hands, my little angles Pushing me back from my inner demon entangles
But I trip and fall as my feet drag and become tangled Once agian Ive become bruised, scratched, and mangled Im moving to fast, I need to slow in order to gain a footing But the anvil has me running from a feeling of foreboding
I need a guide to help me, to help find my way But there's no one just me, can I find a better day? I've got noway out, trapped with a depressing attitude A Feeling of nothing better, I take who I am with gratitude
So I bury my darkness six feet deep in myself, in a tomb But along with my demons I'm trapped in this room some days I give all I have and still more is taken Draining my soul feeling empty and black as a raven
This allows my demons to seep through my inner walls While I'm still shackled screaming HELP! but it's an empty call Once again my demons place this anvil upon my chest Weighted down im imploding, I can't breath can't rest
Everything is so difficult while bareing this weight Especially when I have to fake being in a happy state They say a frown takes more work then if you smile I know this is a lie, because when I smile I feel so vile
My battery is draining, smiling over stretches my string Help! It's going to snap and the whip lash is going to sting The internal pain is becoming normal, I'm growing numb Broken in so many places im no longer whole only a crumb
The anvils weight is centered on my chest, i feel dred, doom My breathing is forsaken, heart skips a beat, I feel gloom I'm inches from an outburst I'm going to scream! I Can't take it anymore my brain is dreaming the obscene!
What I've been hiding for so long is about to be released The built up mixture of pain, sadness & anxiety is unleashed Tears begin to flow, then turn to sobs, but again I'm alone Locked in my room I need to be seen as if I'm hard as stone
I can't show weakness although I barely drag my own weight I'm a man, I need to be the balance to everyone else's plate Its bred in me to be the one that holds up this boulder I need to carry the weight and be everyone's shoulder
Help! I'm still alone with this anvil......
https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/s/lcaIunG8gv https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/s/7BzLtYUJJm

Context: Some say AI content gets penalized by Google. But everyone is using AI to write blog posts. Bottom line: Don't be scared and try the prompts below.

1. Brainstorm Article Topics

Act as an experienced SEO copywriter, tasked with brainstorming a list of compelling article ideas based on [topic]. The goal is to generate content that not only resonates with your target audience but also ranks well on search engines. Use your expertise to identify keywords and trends that align with [topic] and the interests of your readers. Each article idea should be designed to offer valuable insights, answer common questions, or solve specific problems related to [topic]. Focus on creating headlines that are SEO-friendly and compelling enough to drive clicks and engagement. Additionally, consider the potential for backlinks and social shares, which can further enhance the visibility of your content.

2. Gather Information & Sources

Act as an experienced SEO copywriter responsible for crafting a compelling and informative article about [topic]. Your task is to meticulously gather relevant information and credible sources that will provide depth, accuracy, and value to the readers. You should employ advanced SEO techniques to identify trending keywords and questions related to [topic], ensuring that the content you're preparing to write will rank high on search engine results pages. Your research should include a mix of primary and secondary sources, incorporating expert opinions, statistical data, case studies, and real-life examples. Make sure to verify the credibility of your sources and aim to provide a unique angle or insight into [topic] that sets your article apart from existing content. The goal is to create a well-researched foundation that will enable you to write an article that not only engages and informs the target audience but also drives traffic and boosts visibility online.

3. Create Detailed Outline

Act as an experienced SEO copywriter tasked with creating a comprehensive and engaging outline for an article about [topic]. The outline should structure the article in a way that is both reader-friendly and optimized for search engines. Begin with an eye-catching headline that incorporates the primary keyword. Following the headline, draft a compelling introduction that hooks the reader and clearly states what the article will cover. The body of the outline should be broken down into several sections, each with a subheading that includes relevant keywords. These sections should logically flow from one to the next, covering all the necessary aspects of [topic] in detail. Include bullet points or numbered lists where appropriate to make the information more digestible. For each section, briefly note the key points and any data or sources that should be included to back up those points.

4. Write the Full Article

Act as an experienced SEO copywriter, tasked with writing a [n] words long article based on the provided [outline]. Your primary goal is to craft a compelling, informative piece that not only adheres to SEO best practices but also ranks high on search engines for the chosen keywords. The article should be well-researched, engaging to the target audience, and structured in a way that enhances readability (using headings, subheadings, bullet points, etc.). Incorporate relevant keywords naturally throughout the text, without compromising the flow or quality of the content. Ensure that the article answers the questions or solves the problems outlined, providing value to the reader. Additionally, include a strong call-to-action that encourages reader engagement.

5. Edit for Clarity and Coherence

Act as an experienced SEO copywriter tasked with editing [article] for clarity and coherence. Your primary goal is to enhance the readability and SEO performance of the article without compromising its original tone and message. Focus on optimizing the content structure, ensuring keyword integration is natural and aligns with search intent, and improving the overall flow of the text. Identify and eliminate any redundant or unclear sentences, and ensure that the article maintains a consistent voice throughout. Pay special attention to headlines and subheadings, optimizing them for click-through rates and search engine visibility. Additionally, incorporate internal and external links where appropriate to boost the article's SEO value and user engagement.

Note: These prompts were originally published in my article: ChatGPT prompts for article writing.

We’ve been struggling through ivf for over a year now. Three egg retrievals. First two were unsuccessful… we were told we had a 3% chance of having biological children after the second failure. The third thankfully resulted in two euploid embryos.
First transfer was drawn out… had to do two months of Lupron depot which puts your body into chemical menopause (I have endo). We were thrilled to find out the first transfer was successful… my numbers were great and we heard the heartbeat at 6 weeks. I’ve never been happier. Five days later, I miscarried with no known reason as to why.
I spent two weeks crying every day. Finally I started to get a little better leading up to a preplanned trip to visit my fiancés family. This flight was planned to be at the end of my first trimester when we could tell his family the good news. After the miscarriage we thought about canceling… but decided not to about a week out.
I’m now preparing for my second transfer in July. Another two months of Lupron depot which I’ve already started. The morning of when we were supposed to fly out I broke down in sobs that were ongoing for an hour or two. But I kept pushing myself to just get to the airport to see how I’ll feel. On the way, we got a call from our nurse that there’s still HCG in my blood so I’m technically still testing positive. That made me emotional again. We got to the airport and I was so conflicted for about 30 mins. We got to check in and I told my fiancé I just couldn’t do it. It was a mix of the timing, the fact that we were flying (I’m an anxious flyer) and that we were going to be around his sister (who has always been very unfriendly and isolating towards us). We said goodbye and I went to my car. He then felt guilty leaving me and ended up not going either. I feel awful. I feel like I was completely incapable of handling my emotions (I kept thinking “this trip was supposed to be SO different”).
I feel like I’m just bringing down everyone around me. My fiancé, his family, my friends whenever they ask how I’m doing.
Is this normal to feel so constantly conflicted and have severe grief over a miscarriage last over a month like this? Has anyone experienced an emotional breakdown like this?

I'm trying to decide between a few different character concepts for the next 5e D&D game my partner is running. One of the character concepts I'm considering is already pretty fleshed out, and I'll probably still talk about her because I love her, but the other two, I'm struggling with.
(For context, the campaign starts because the gods are pretty much all dead except for a select few, and the idea is to either restore or replace the gods by the end of the campaign. The absence of Mystra specifically is making magic go haywire in a variety of ways, including making it that most spells require a roll on a magic table until enough fragments of The Weave can be brought back together. We are also using gestalt rules, so I'm basically taking 2 classes at the same time, and homebrew is allowed so long as I get DM approval first. And we're starting at level 4.)

1. A changeling who functions as a "daughter", protector and errand girl of a coven of hags. I'm loosely basing this backstory on Pathfinder changeling lore where changelings are drawn to their hag mother when they reach a certain age. In this case, though, when this changeling got to her "mothers", she made a deal with them that, in exchange for letting her remain the way she is, she'd act as their assistant and the first line of defense against adventurers who may seek to harm them so they don't have to expend energy on trivial things. That did seem to be a deal that worked for them, but the moment the gods died and the hags magic was no longer a reliable means to keep her there, she left as fast as she could. She knows the hags will be searching for her, though, so she stays in the form of a half-elf and joins the quest to bring the gods back for the sole purpose of giving her an excuse to stay far away from the hags. I imagine they're either actively searching for her or pushing her to bring godly power back to them so they can become goddesses. (Currently playing around with the idea of Archfey Warlock in addition to either a Fighter, Rogue or Bard subclass, but I'm open to anything.)
   
2. This construct was made to serve a wealthy family, specifically their young daughter. She only knowing two things about her purpose when she first awoke: teach the young girl to dance, and love her like she was an older sister. Unfortunately, despite genuinely loving the little girl, years passed and she never was good enough to be loved and accepted by her. She only grew more distant and resentful over the years, only to one day snap and tell the construct "You can't replace her!!" As it turns out, the construct was made in an effort to take the place of the family's eldest daughter, who was both the best friend and dance instructor of her younger sister. The knowledge of all of this weighs on the construct's mind for some time, but that's nothing compared to the horror she experiences when the gods die, the weave is fractured, and the magic that makes her function breaks, causing her to short circuit and injure her charge. She brings her to the family healer and runs away before she can be thrown away, feeling like a failure and not knowing what to do with herself. That's when she gets the call to help bring the gods back. Before her is an opportunity to perhaps fix her malfunctioning problems. Or, maybe even better, perhaps she can ask the goddess of magic, be it Mystra or someone else by the end of it, to change her into a flesh and blood person so maybe her charge, her student, her "sister" can finally love her back. (I'm feeling like Bard could be one of her classes, but I don't know for sure. Also, can you tell I was inspired by Pinocchio for this one?)
   

That's all that's really necessary to read for the sake of this post! I'm gonna go ahead and include my final character that I'm thinking about because I just enjoy her, but I'm more concerned about the first two right now.
[Bonus: Nitala Opalseeker was always more feisty and brash than the average deep gnome, and her family knew that she would get into trouble rather easily if they didn't encourage her to keep out of business that wasn't hers. They did what they could to curb her natural roguish tendencies and encourage her to be a Bard or maybe even a Cleric like her father. None of this becomes relevant until the day they decide to leave the Underdark, mostly due to drow oppression, but also partly due to Nita's mild allergy to mushrooms (which she still occasionally eats anyway). During the trip, a few deep gnomes are caught and kidnapped by drow and duergar slavers, including Nita's father. Once on the surface, the deep gnome refugee group takes a ship to get to another gnome settlement, but a storm wrecks the ship, leaving very few of the deep gnomes alive. Among those are Nita's mother, another deep gnome she views as an older brother, and Nita herself, all thanks to a kraken with a beef with the ocean goddess and a draw to the fire and spite in this deep gnome's heart, telling her telepathically that she'd "owe her a favor when the right time comes" before saving her. That experience alone curbed Nitala's rebellious spirit for a while, and she actually spent time trying to be a Bard in an effort to make her mother happy after everything they went through. That only lasted for a little while before she decided to study magic as in depth as she could, both because she didn't want uppity scholarly mages claiming she didn't know what she was talking about when it came to magic and because it kept her awake so nightmares featuring the ship wreck and the kraken didn't plague her sleep. That eventually wasn't even enough to satisfy her, though, and she finally decided to follow her brother figure out of town one night without telling her mother where she was going. Fast forward to now where she's had her own adventures with her "brother", but now, the gods have died, and her patron as called in her favor. Nita is to find Umberlee's godly power and bring it to the kraken, but Nita, who really doesn't like her patron very much, plans to take the petty route and claim godhood for herself just for the sole purpose of taking her patron's dream away from her. (I know she'd be a Fathomless Warlock and some kind of Bard, obviously. Just need to choose a Bard subclass.)]

Note: All of the following criteria are looked at in a vacuum and isolated from other matchups.
Connections:
How similar are the characters, are the connections to said characters true, and are they unique to both characters?
Note: Quantity is taken into account, but quality and uniqueness are what’s primarily taken into account for ranking.
0 : They do not exist and / or are all factually incorrect.
0.5: There is at least one connection that is factually accurate, but it is generic and surface level.
1-3: There is at least one accurate connection, and this one connection is of good quality and is unique. Everything else is either very stretched, generic, and/or wrong.
4-6: More than one connections that are mostly accurate, and there are a few unique connections, and any others are primarily made up of generic connections. Not necessarily bad connections, just ones that are not unique. There may be a handful of stretches. The number of connections isn’t as important up until this point.
7-9: There are a decent amount of connections that are all accurate and strong aside from a few stretched and/or generic connections.
10: A bunch of strong, unique connections that are all factually accurate with very little to no stretches.
Examples of Good Connections: Isaac vs Omori, Harry Potter vs Percy Jackson
Examples of Bad Connections: Darth Vader vs Sephiroth, Buddha vs Gojo
Thematics:
How similar are the character’s personal stories? And if they’re not similar, what about the stories of franchises overall?
Note: Contrasts are counted (as parallels) for when ranking Thematics. Uniqueness and quality also apply to thematics.
0: Character’s Stories and/or Series do not align or parallel at all
1-3: Character’s Stories and/or Series are vaguely similar
4-6: Character’s Stories and/or Series are decently similar and/or parallel each other
7-9: Character’s Stories and/or Series are very similar and/or parallel each other
10: Character’s Stories and/or Series either align/contrast nearly perfectly
Examples of Good Thematics: Ori vs The Knight, Ghost Rider vs Spawn
Examples of Bad Thematics: Luffy vs Ryuko, Giratina vs Yukari
Example of Stronger Connections but Weaker Thematics: Goku vs Sonic, Agent Jones vs Rick Sanchez
Example of Weaker Connections but Stronger Thematics: Monokuma vs Koro-Sensei, Duke Nukem vs Serious Sam
Animation Potential:
How easy would it be to produce a good looking animation? (Available models and sprites, effort required to draw by hand, etc.)
Note: Live Action episodes are too few and far between in both official episodes and MUs that would actually benefit from it, so it will not be taken into account for most MUs.
0: Neither Characters have assets that can be used to make an animation. Assets are going to have to be made in full for the animation to work (I.E. Making 3d models / Sprite sheets from scratch). Almost entirely relies on being hand drawn.
1-3: Only one character has assets, with them being low quality at that. Heavily relies on being hand drawn or assets being created and/or edited.
4-6: At least one character has high quality assets in both sprites and 3D with the other having minimal resources OR both characters have very low quality assets. Would need to rely on hand drawn a bit, but depending on the MU it could be excusable.
7-9: Both have high quality assets in either sprites and/or 3D and/or are very hand drawn friendly. (HD friendly characters EX: The Knight (Hollow Knight), Scooby-Doo, Mickey Mouse, etc.)
10: Both have high quality assets in all styles and are very hand drawn friendly.
Examples of Good Animation Potential: Yuji VS Denji, Scorpion vs Kratos
Examples of Bad Animation Potential: Junko vs The Major, Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III vs Guts
Fight Potential:
How do the characters' combat kits mesh well and/or bounce off of each other well? Do both characters have enough in their respective arsenals to make an interesting fight?
Note: This is based purely on the actual combat side of things, with more intelligence based MUs doing better in Story Potential.
0: Neither character has/can canonically fight
0.5: One character can fight, the other can not
1-3: Both characters are able to fight though very minimal means, usually just being just normal people throwing out basic attacks (punches, kicks, sword swipes, etc.).
4-6: Both have at least more than one ability that can bounce off / counter each other well somewhat dynamically
7-9: Both characters have abilities that bounce off of each other naturally, with both having a lot to pull from in their arsenals
10: Both poweskill sets bounce/match each other masterfully and has a very good and enticing dynamic
Examples of Good Fight Potential: Kaos vs Vortech, Skul vs The Knight
Examples of Bad Fight Potential: Shigaraki vs Mahito, Walter White vs Light Yagami
Interaction Potential:
How well do the characters' personalities, fighting styles, and environment mesh well with each other?
Note: Non verbal communication is taken into account, and non language based communication is also taken into account (roaring/screaming, body language, general expressions of emotion, etc.)
0: Both characters are mute and/or emotionless and cannot interact with one another.
1-3: Only one of the characters in the match up can speak/interact, whereas the other character is either unable or unwilling to interact with either character. The dynamic is one-sided
4-6: Both characters can interact with each other, and their personalities are able to bounce off each other at least on a surface level
7-9: Both characters can easily create unique dialog and banter that comes and flows very naturally.
10: Both characters involved have nearly the same personalities, or contrast each other in an extremely dynamic way that flows extremely naturally
Examples of Good Interaction Potential: Darth Vader vs Lich King, Blade Wolf vs Omega
Examples of Bad Interaction Potential: Giratina vs Wobblewok, Revan VS Dark Urge
Story Potential:
Do the characters involved have a good, in-character reason to want to fight one another? Is there potential for an interesting story to be told through the fight?
0: Neither have an in character reason to fight and have no interesting or dynamic potential for a story during the fight
1-3: At least one character has a reason to want to fight, albeit a reason that’s dubious. That, or the reason both characters want to fight fall into cliche storytelling tropes (for the fight to functionally work, you would need to force these characters into a situation that’s out of character for both)
4-6: Both have a good reason as to why they would want to fight each other, but it’s not unique to either character specifically
7-9: Both have a good in character reason to want to fight and have the potential for an interesting story to be told during the fight/grow some kind of relationship with each other
10: Both have a perfect reason to fight with a magnificent story being told during the fight that feels very official, aside from one having to die
Examples of Good Story Potential: Walter White vs Light Yagami, DIO vs Alucard
Examples of Bad Story Potential: Josuke vs Ichiban, Adam vs Asura
Music Potential:
Do the styles of the characters and/or series mesh well? How many types of genres can it be? Can it tell something of a story without vocals?
Note: We rarely if ever take commission tracks into account for this category, given it can either under utilize the source material or goes involves the commissioned to create an effectively original track
0: Neither have canonical music to work with
1-3: Both have music to work with but clash very hard in tone, instrument choice, genre, and composition/heavily rely on Brandon and Therewolf being Brandon and Therewolf
4-6: Both have music that can work together but would clash in tone, instrument choice, genre, or composition/rely on Brandon and Therewolf being Brandon and Therewolf
7-9: Both have music that can very clearly work well together and/or can work in multiple different genres
10: Matches up in tone, instrument choice, and composition, can reasonably work in multiple genres, can tell somewhat of a story, and can just fucking slap
Examples of Good Music Potential: Grimm vs Alastor, Teddy vs Faust
Examples of Bad Music Potential: Gojo vs Gyro, King Piccolo vs Sukuna
Debatability:
Can you reasonably make an argument for either character to win the fight?
0: Neither character has anything to work with in terms of debating. They have no feats, or scaling of any kind to work with
1-3: The winner of the match up is very clear cut. With the only notable discussion being how fast does the winner stomp the loser
4-6: Both have win cons, but it's still very cut and dry who wins. And/or the debate relies on what you buy for both
7-9: Very debatable with very reasonable arguments being able to be made for either character winning
10: It’s borderline, could go either way, and or is a tie
Examples of Good Debatability: Shang Tsung vs Raphael, Q84 vs Batter
Examples of Bad Debatability: Alastor vs Black Hat, Scout vs Rebbeca
Promotability:
How easy would it be to make promotional material for the matchup?
Note: Hand drawn fan art from artists both inside and outside the general Death Battle community are not taken into account when ranking Promotability.
0: Neither characters have official cannon designs to work with
1-3: Characters have at least one render for thumbnails, and minimal assets for track arts and next time trailers
4-6: Characters have a fair amount of content in decently high quality for thumbnails, trailers, etc.
7-9: Characters have a lot of good, high quality, and dynamic renders and footage to use. The matchup can be easily promoted and it be of good quality
10: Characters have an abundance of renders with dynamic posing and in great quality for thumbnails, next time trailers, etc.
Examples of Good Promotability: Springtrap vs Junko, Makima vs The Batter
Examples of Bad Promotability: Sans vs The Judge, Owlman vs Rick Prime
Recognizability:
Character recognition is how well known the characters / series are, how well documented the characters / series’ are, and how well established they are in and outside of Death Battle
Note: Character recognition is taken into account for both existing fans of Death Battle, and newcomers to the series. This does not account for popularity
0: The characters involved in the match up are either extremely obscure, to the point where only the match up creator knows who the characters are, or they do not exist
1-3: Characters/Series are at least semi known and have a decent following, but are still extremely obscure to the general public and to the DBM subreddit. At bare minimum the characters exist
4-6: Characters/Series are decently well known, and have a decently sized following. But are still not considered to be household names. More often than not brand names are carrying the recognizability more than the characters themselves
7-9: Both the characters and their respective series are massively well known and documented, both in and out of the DBM community
10: Household names that have reached across the globe. These characters are massively well known, with very few people, if anyone, not knowing who these characters are.
Examples of Good Recognizability: Homer vs Vader, Mickey vs Bugs
Examples of Bad Recognizability: Multiverse Monarch VS The Cockroach King, Uzi vs Izzy Fisher
Here is the outline for the overall finished grades. Mind you this is based on the Canadian grading system so anything below a 50 is considered to be a failing grade.
0-29: Any match up that gets a grade in this score really cannot functionally work as an episode of the show. Too much effort would be placed on the Death Battle team in order to make it happen.
30-49: Any match up that gets a final grade within this score could work as an episode, in theory. But in practice it would still prove too difficult for the Death Battle team to make a full episode on.
50-59: Any match up that gets a final grade within this score can functionally work as a full episode of the show. There is just enough for the Death Battle team to justify making a full episode on, but would still require significant effort to make the episode work.
60-69 (nice): Any match up that gets a final grade within this score can solidly work as a full episode with very few potential major issues. There may be a few that still permeate, but nothing that will bring the match up down overall in terms of making a full episode.
70-79: Any match up that gets a final grade within this score can definitively work as a full episode of the show. There is enough to make an episode work and then some, with only 1 or 2 potential major issues, but nothing too great that brings the overall quality down significantly
80-89: Any match up that gets a final grade within this score can work fantastically as a full episode. There would only be 1 potential major issue, but it would be minor in comparison to everything else the match up gets right.
90+: Why isn’t this an episode yet? This matchup is firing on all cylinders and has nearly every category going for it in its favor.
With all of this being said, does anyone have any further questions about the rubric? I would be happy to answer any and all questions.

Do you ever have childhood nightmares or dreams? As for me, at a very young age, I always got nightmares whenever we watched something scary or even just a mention of ghosts. Where I grew up in the Philippines, there was this fantasy show that we watched as kids. Thinking about it now, it's kind of creepy. Whether it was about fairies or friendly ghosts, I still got creeped out and had nightmares about it. There was this nightmare of mine that traumatized me as a kid. You don't really remember your dreams until you're eating breakfast and it suddenly hits you that you had a nightmare before waking up. It's about this island. Imagine the town/island where the Teletubbies are. That one, but imagine it with brown grass instead of green, complete darkness instead of the baby sun, and instead of open space, it's filled with creepy trees. All I remember is running towards that forest and something chasing me. I couldn't look back and kept running. I could feel the trees snitching on my location until I stumbled over a big root of a massive tree.
There's a scratch on my knee and I can feel it sting. With my petite body and out-of-breath lungs, all I did was stare at my bleeding knees. I wasn't crying, but I know I was scared. *Dum...dum...dum.* I could hear it, not in my ears but in my heart. It seems like my heart is synchronizing to the vibration. I still don't know what's out there, but I know I should be running away from it. I saw a silhouette walking towards me slowly. It's big, but not giant big. I close my eyes and then suddenly I am awake, lying down straight like a person in a coffin.
I never talked to anyone about my nightmares. It's normal to have nightmares, but the people around me are saying that it's not normal for a kid to sleep straight like a dead body. I never really took it seriously. I kept having weird nightmares of running in a dark place again. I still don't know who's chasing me. When you are a kid, you have very vivid memories of what your childhood was like. Mine is filled with nightmares. I did still enjoy my childhood and yet still able to be a 'normal' kid. I had plenty of friends, played in the street, and did such fun things. I still feel like something is missing and I tend to mix up memories with dreams. When you are a kid, you have such wild imaginations that you think it is real, but once you turn into an adult, you think that it's impossible for that to happen in the real world. That is just one of the nightmares that stuck in my head and that something I still dream about.
I remember having this dream, or perhaps something happened? Until now, it still confuses me, but here's how it goes. I was playing with my cousins and some of our friends. It was in the middle of the night, maybe 8 or 9 PM? I know it was dark, with streetlights shining through the street. Living in the busiest city in the Philippines, you would still see a bunch of people outside. We were playing hide and seek. I was thankful that I was not 'it' this time. As the seeker counted to 10, we all spread around and found a place to hide.
I decided to hide behind a motorized tricycle, as we simply call them tricycles (just Google what it looks like). One of my friends came with me, but I told her to go away as I didn’t want to get found. She ran off and found another place to hide. I was chuckling, and I could still hear people around me talking and laughing, but in my mind, I just didn’t want to get caught.
I didn’t hide far away from where the seeker was; I could still hear him counting 'and… 10.' Suddenly, everything went quiet. I was quiet too, as I didn’t want him to find me first. I crouched back behind the motorized tricycle, and I could hear him walking far away from me. I sighed with relief. I heard that he found someone far away, as I heard one of my cousins scream in excitement because the seeker found her.
I chuckled.
I didn’t hear any footsteps, but I could see a shadow coming towards me as the tricycle was parked just below a lamppost. I slowly moved around to avoid being found, circling slowly and getting into the rhythm of the shadow. Now, there was a gap inside the motorcycle where I could see the other side. I slowly looked through the gap and, to my surprise, saw a figure looking at me. I got startled, but I didn’t scream. I stood up right away, and to my surprise, I was back there again, on that island.
The tricycle that was in front of me became a tree. Not just a tree, but a tree with massive roots that made me stumble in my previous dream. I was confused. Even now, as I think of it, I know it’s not a dream, but it's getting weirder. My first thought was 'Where are my friends?' The figure I saw earlier was gone. I got out from behind that tree and searched around the forest for an exit. As I was running, I could hear mumbling sounds. I was a kid, and my brain was controlling this stuff, so I went and followed the sounds. One sound seemed familiar—it was my friend's voice—but it seemed like something was stuck in her mouth; it was echoing through the forest.
As the sounds became clearer, my eyes couldn’t believe what I saw. My friends and cousins were tied to the trees, their mouths covered with tape. In my mind, I had to get out of there because I was scared as hell, but at the same time, I wanted to help them. I ran to my cousin first, and as I was going near her, a figure appeared behind her tree. It had eight hands like a spider, but it was brown and shaped like a cockroach. It had a face like a human—technically an image of a human in a cockroach-spider-looking costume. His or her face had makeup that blended with what it was wearing, and it was smiling towards me; I could see its yellow teeth.
"We've looked everywhere for you," it said while slowly coming towards me.
I couldn’t speak or move. I was so scared. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't.
"Now we can start the game," it said in the friendliest way possible. "I won't hurt you or your friends. I just want to play," it added.
Being raised to be nice to everyone, I nodded. I still wasn't speaking.
"Can I get a hug?" it requested.
I nodded again.
It hugged me, and I could feel all of its legs on my body. The thing I thought was its costume? It was actually connected to it. It was warm, and I just closed my eyes. I touched one of its legs, and it felt sticky. Suddenly, I woke up and saw my grandma's husband staring at me, telling me to wake up as it's time for school, and then he left. I saw my left palm was kind of sticky, sweat, I guess.
That's all I can remember from that time. I went to school and lived the rest of the day as a "normal" kid, still thinking about that nightmare. Some of my dreams are not all nightmares; they are happy dreams too. But what's stuck with me is that every time I have a nightmare, it's basically a continuation of the other, but it only happens once I completely forget about it.
Later that same year, I dreamt about it again, but differently. I had already made friends with this creature. It seems that I completely accepted it, and I was not scared of it anymore, but I was not happy either. There was something about it that still seemed odd to me, but I was just not reacting to any of it. We would play tag, hide and seek, and other games. As I noticed the place getting darker and darker, I also noticed that a few of my friends who were in my dreams were getting fewer and fewer until it was just us. It still kept its attitude, lively and happy to play with me. I asked it, "Aren't you sad?" It just kept smiling for a good 5 seconds and slowly frowned, answering, "Why would I? You are all I need as a friend." Then it started jumping around like those mascots you see in kids' TV shows. I remained the same, not happy, not sad, but I went with its flow.
I also noticed that before I woke up, it hugged me, like saying goodbye and at the same time inviting me to see each other again. There was something about its hug too. I could feel the warmth of its eight legs covering my whole body and its breath around my neck. In my dreams, I kept touching at least one of its legs. It seemed that it became a habit, and I could feel it sticky. I woke up again in a straight laying-down position, and my hands were drying, but I could feel the wetness. Then my grandma's new husband was ready to take me to school again.
When I was 9, my mom decided that my siblings, my dad, and I would move to my mom’s side for 3 years before leaving the Philippines. It was my dad's side where I kept having nightmares. I don’t get those nightmares anymore. Sometimes I miss them, and sometimes I wonder if they miss me too. I stopped looking for them. I feel like they went away when I started going to church with my strictly Catholic grandmother. We had to wake up at 6 am to prepare for church, and every day for those 3 years, we had to pray at 7 pm for an hour. We knelt in front of the saints' statues, and my belief in God strengthened. I forgot about the nightmares. I lived like a normal child, had a great childhood, had a bunch of friends, and grew up to be a decent girl. My mom announced that we were all leaving for Canada, and I just remember being so excited about it.
I was 11 years old when I and my friends were playing outside my house. I know I was still a kid then, even if my grandma keeps telling me to stop playing as I am already a grown woman (culture things). Our neighbour's are like aunts and uncles to us; I play with their kids sometimes who're the same age as me. We are all close to each other, even the adults. They treat us as their own since my mom grew up with them as well. One of my neighbors, whom I called “Tito” (uncle in Tagalog), called me and asked me when we were leaving for the Philippines. I told him soon, and he told me how I looked like my mom. I told him how much I miss my mom and how I cannot wait to see her again. He gave me a hug, and then my world stopped. This hug looks familiar. I can feel his breathing around my neck and the warmth of his hug. His hands are playing on my back, slowly stroking it. I swallowed and told him that I had to go since my grandma was probably looking for me. He let go and smiled at me. I just felt tears running through my eyes, and everything came back.
I was SA when I was a kid. I was SA by my step grandfather at my dad’s side. I feel like throwing up, and I can feel everything crawling toward me. I remember the first time he did it. When my mom left, he started touching me. As a kid, I treated him as a monster and just created these scenarios in my head. Even my childhood friends saw it, but since we were kids at the time, what would they know? It was inside the motorized trycicle where he was touching all over, but he said that we were just playing hide and seek and that he found me. It was then that I was so ashamed to play with my friends, as I remember one of my cousins stopping coming over because he started touching her too. The place is my dark place. Now I remember everything. I was so mad and angry. I remember that I would wake up in those positions after he touched me and felt my whole body. And remember the sticky thing in my hands? Yeah, it was his semen that he wiped away before I got to sleep, which is why whenever I am about to wake up, he is almost always there.
Now that I am in my 20s, I have tried to move on, yet the trauma still lingers within me. That monster died a few years ago, and his last words to me were, “Do you still remember me?”. I never had a chance to confront him. I opened up about my experience to a couple of my friends and gave advice to those who have experienced it too. I help those friends of mine who are still experiencing it and assist them in getting out of that situation. My only regret is that I was too afraid. I used to blame myself, but not anymore. None of it is my fault; I was just a child. I was not strong enough to keep my peace, still thinking that it is all a dream for the sake of my peace of mind. I wanted to apologize to the kid in me for not protecting her during those times, but I will never let that happen again to anyone that I know of. I now live in Canada, working in an office and happily thinking that my monster’s body is burning in hell. Thank you for reading. Please always watch out for whoever is watching your kids, your younger siblings, as you never know even the very person you trust can do massive damage to your loved ones.

Let's start from the beginning. Buckle up because this is going to be a LONG post.
3 weeks ago, I'd decided I'd had enough and asked my family for support to talk with a therapist I was under before to try and improve my social skills. I'd deemed it necessary because after a hard, good look at my situation I'd realized that my social skills were affecting every SINGLE aspect of my life: lots of opportunities, friendships, fun events, memorable get togethers all wasted because my lack of social skills gave me anxiety. It was unbearable. The worse part was most of the events I had skipped was not with strangers, but with my best friends. I have been best friends with these guys for a decade, and my social anxiety was making it hard to talk with them. It was that bad. Imagine you'd trust these guys with your life and you can't even hold eye contact with them.
Finally, we'd decided on a day for my first session after a long time, it was on a Saturday, but there were challenges to be overcome before we even get to the session: I had to attend 2 social events I'd planned with my friends on the same week.
I have frequent mood swings and during a time of absolute high, while I was attending a seminar I'd talked with the group for hours and had made plans with them. During that moment I was happy and excited that I was taking the initiative to get myself out there; the next day however was a complete nightmare: I'd realized what I had done and I can't practically back out because I'd talked big about being there (I don't normally go out so they were excited to see me). It was a hard 2 days of overthinking and anxiety about how things MIGHT turn out - How I could mess it up for everyone; how we seldom meet due to work and I'd ruin that moment of peace for all of us. If the first meeting bombed, then the next meeting was a guaranteed no-show from me, and the therapy session on Saturday would be completely ruined for me too.
Now the night arrives, the day before the first meeting - we were gonna eat out, just us friends, then just fuck around anywhere we wanted. I couldn't sleep. This is where the shift in my mindset started. My mind had placed this event on a pedestal, and my thoughts changed from My dumbass is going to ruin the evening for everyone to I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT FAIL THIS TIME. The last time I'd attended with them I was a complete mute and was stuck to my phone the entire time, with some of them questioning me if I was alright, and all I could utter was a simple: "I'm just sleepy, is all" (And yes, I WAS NOT SLEEPY AND WAS JUST LOOKING FOR AN ESCAPE). That traumatized me to hell that I had been skipping get togethers since then, and I was hellbent in making sure the same thing DIDN'T HAPPEN AGAIN.
Eventually I fell asleep, and the next day came. I was feeling anxious, but energized. It was the same feeling I got when going into battle (like defending a project from a panel), yes at times I would get anxious due to overthinking, but I was more zoned in on preparations. Now keep in mind, I'm quite close with this group, but I haven't talked to some of them in years, some of them I barely talk to, and only 2 of them I talk to frequently. I'd lasered in on what I knew about these guys, their recent activities, possible topics of conversation, I'd replayed possible interactions, body languages, all of it. It was like preparing for a thesis: First you get the stomachache and headache, and anxiety 3 hours before, but the final hour before, you're just focused on nothing else BUT PREPARATIONS.
Now, I have a bad case of paranoia when walking to malls, and I often find myself fidgeting and sweating a lot because of this. Even worse because I was wearing accessories (I never wear any accessories when going out) and I felt conscious that it might look out of place or goofy. None of that happened. I was riding a motorcycle, and feeling the wind against my face seemed to put me under a spell: anxiety was slowly slipping from my brain. When I walked inside the mall to meet up with some of the guys, I didn't feel any anxiety, any paranoia. There was nervous energy, but it felt natural.
Fast forward and the first guy I meet is the guy I talk to the most, I thought I'd freeze up then and there, unable to talk or hold eye contact, but when I saw that he was happy to see me, and I was happy to see him too, all unnecessary thoughts went out. Everything just flowed instinctively. We talked for a solid 20-30 minutes trying to catch-up, it all felt comfortable, I didn't feel compelled to think too hard about what to say or do next, the words just flowed endlessly from my mouth; the body language I was completely conscious of was a non-factor. Then some of the other guys arrive: we make small talk, fun talk, but it wasn't as in the zone as the one I had earlier, but it felt natural. People pulled out their phones, I pulled mine too, but it didn't feel forced.
It felt as if I was playing a turn based game and I just knew what to do. At that moment there was no cause of anxiety because there was no need for it. I just knew what to do, when to back off and listen, and when there were dry / awkward spots well yes it felt awkward but my anxiety didn't spike up like it usually did.
Fast forward later and all of us have met-up and are going to a restaurant, and we're all sitting together. For the first time in years, I have never been so happy that I'd decided to go and didn't skip. It was a complete eye opener. I talked to everyone at least once or twice throughout the entire experience; we laughed, made jokes, we caught up with each other, we listened to stories: it was so different from what I normally knew, and I didn't care enough to ask how I was keeping up - I wanted to enjoy the moment. Eye contact, the one I dreaded the most, for once didn't feel forced and I felt comfortable enough to hold it with others. For the majority of the time, I think 90% of it I wasn't on my phone at all, I wasn't looking at the ground. I was having fun with them.
Most of the guys there were extroverts and introverts, but I was the only one with social anxiety. At that moment, I felt completely liberated. I know it's not a one-off thing because I noticed a lot of things during that moment. I noticed when I had to listen, when I had to talk, when to break off eye-contact, when to switch topics. It felt like the skills that I needed had been all there all along, and the only thing stopping it from manifesting was my own anxious thoughts.
Of course, my social battery ran out near the end. There were times where I'd try to crack a joke but my voice was too low and people would stare at me and ask "Ha?" but I'd just wave it off with a laugh and tell them to continue. Any other time an interaction like that would shut my brain off and torment me for days - but that wasn't the case. It became a passing "oh well" and I just went on and never lingered on it. When we got tired and were running out of things to talk about I felt comfortable sitting there just fiddling with my drink or listening, or just looking around and it never made me anxious, just an "oh..." and nothing more. When looking back to those awkward moments, all I can think about is how I could've handled it better - actually trying to learn from the interaction instead of letting it put me down, and I am completely sure that it wasn't me just being in a high because I don't regret a single thing, even the awkward parts. It's the first time I've had awkward situations where I didn't overthink or implode on the spot.
The entire experience has me thrilled even now hours after the event, because what I experienced during that event showed me what I could do; in a way, it felt like I had broken through an obstacle and I was glad I didn't stay behind to just sit behind my PC, because what I learned in those short 4 hours will outclass even thousands of hours spent on the internet learning about social skills (Keep in mind, the topic I normally talk about with them is video games; during the entire time, we rarely talked about games). It was a necessity, and now I'm even more excited to attend the second event (this time with some strangers), and eventually my therapy session!
If you'd read this far. Thank you! I just wanted to share this moment of victory with people who can relate to issues of social anxiety. If there's one thing I learned that I want to give out as an advice: Just give yourself a chance, no matter how small. I have only one life to live, and what compelled me was that I didn't want to spend the next 20-30 years as I was: I would rather embarrass myself completely in the pursuit of improving myself than stay in this nest of anxiety and depression. I want to live too, and my desire for a better life, I hope will completely eclipse my fear of the challenges that come with it.

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Memory transcription subject: Herq, Tilfish Junior Exterminator
Date [standardized human time]: December 3rd, 2136
“Understood, on our way.” Frankie stuffed his radio away.
“W-What? More Arxur?” I shivered.
“Don’t think so. Hope not. We gotta go to the van.”
The human didn't give me time to reply as he stepped over the body like it wasn’t even there. Swallowing some bile, I took aimed steps around it. The smell of blood wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It wasn’t any worse than burning flesh.
The stomps of Frankie’s boots down the stairs reminded me to keep moving. I scuttled down the stairs, turning the corner to see another body I was forced to step around. Two of them had come after us, two who were even more eager than the first group we encountered.
“Do you t-think it’s the same ones from before?” I asked.
The human grunted. “Hell if I know. But I wouldn’t doubt it one bit if it was. Guy got his ego hurt, and wanted some revenge. God knows if he was waiting there for an ambush.”
“They… couldn’t have known about the weapons, right?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. He at least knew we were stranded without a vehicle. Maybe put his bets on us getting some transport.”
I didn’t have much time to ponder it. Frankie was already peeking outside the building, shotgun raised. I came up behind him, checking behind as we scooted out of the building. Once he was confident, Frankie dashed towards the van.
We came upon it quickly. I was glad the Arxur he shot was on the other side to spare me from the gore. He turned around to the backside of the van, where his face contorted. “Holy shit.”
“What?” I asked, coming around next to him.
The scaly legs are the first thing I saw. They led up to its back, which looked like it had exploded. Blood was nearly everywhere around the gray, and I even thought I saw a piece of bone. My whole body begged me to run away from the gore, to find a corner to throw up in, but I couldn't look away. And that didn't even cover the Yotul.
The green-stained wraps around his legs were the first thing I noticed after the hulking mass of reptile. His right paw was a bleeding mess haphazardly wrapped in a loose bandage, and his other was curled around an Arxur gun—its gun, I realized. His face had speckles of red on it, much like the rest of the van. There was what could only be described as a huge gun beside him.
Relief washed over his features once he saw us, and he let the weapon clatter onto a bloody crate. “Where’s Luke?”
I watched Frankie for any signs of turning feral, despite the improbability of it ever happening. The copious amount of blood was more than enough to drive any predator into a crazed frenzy, but still Frankie showed enormous restraint. If anything, he almost looked… disgusted by it. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
He took a quick breath to steady himself. “Uh, Dusty took a few rounds, he’s patching her up. I see you can… handle yourself.”
“No,” the Yotul spat back. “It almost…” His voice broke, and he shook his head.
Frankie nodded. “Let’s get moving. I’ll… clear the way, if you could help him, Herq.” The human crouched down and gripped the monster's legs and gave a tug. He started sliding the body out of the way, a trail of blood marking every crate it was slumped over.
I took a step forward, suppressing a gag at the sights and smells. It was like walking into a predator’s den. Dark and damp and terrible, with evidence of what happened drowning my entire field of view. “W-What happened? It looks-”
“I shot the bastard.”
I twitched my antennae. “R-Right.” I took several breaths before finding the strength to proceed. I tried to ignore the blood marked across the walls and creeped in, though I couldn’t ignore the green smears that were on the crates. I did my best to avoid stepping on… anything, really.
The Yotul grabbed a red box full of first aid supplies and set it by his right side. He began to peel off the green-stained gauze on his paw. “I need an extra paw for this.”
“Of course. You’re Reno, right?” He ignored me. I felt a shiver spread through my carapace as he revealed the wound. “T-Those look like-”
“Yeah, I know.”
I gave him a flick of my antennae. He raised a bottle of what I assumed to be antibiotic solution, which I took. I gingerly uncapped the bottle and murmured, “This is going to sting.”
“Do you constantly state the obvious? Just get it over with.”
I took his paw in my feeler and generously poured it over the wound. He let out a small groan, but nothing more. I wiped it, then took some gauze and began wrapping it far better than he could with just a paw and a mouth. I tightened it, and sealed it with some adhesive.
“There. I-I think that’s good, but I don’t commonly work with other species.”
“I can tell.” The Yotul began to get up on their injured legs.
“A-Are you sure you should be walking?” He ignored me again. I stuck out an arm to help him. “Here, at least-”
“I don’t need your help,” he spat, slapping me away with annoyance. He shakily stood up, leaning precariously against the side of the van atop the crates.
I waved my antennae with concern. “I… Let me know if-”
“I won’t,” he coldly said, not giving me so much as a glance back as he hobbled out of the van.
I don’t blame him. The Arxur looked like he was inches away from tearing him apart. Not to mention the claw marks on his wrist… I can’t imagine what happened to him just moments ago.
I crawled out of the van after him, glad to be out, but probably not nearly as glad as him. Frankie came from around the van and dusted his hands.
“That was gross.” He turned to Reno. “You’re up already? Your legs are-”
“Worry about them when we’re in the truck. We need to get the fuck away from here.” He leaned against the van, catching his breath. He was clearly in pain, but didn’t want to show it.
“Gotcha. Luke should be—ah, right there.”
I followed his gaze, spotting the truck rolling towards us with its cracked windows and decorated doors. It stopped right beside the van. A human stepped out, the same one from the predator disease facility. He took one look at Reno, worry spreading across his face. “Holy shit.”
Reno grunted. “That’s what Frankie said.”
“I… We can talk in the truck,” Luke decided.
“Is my gun still in the building?”
“In the backseat.”
The Yotul lowered his head, letting out a breath of relief. I didn’t understand how much a simple firearm could possibly mean to him, but I wasn’t about to question him about it.
Lieutenant Holtas came to the other side of the van, whistling once he saw the crate. “Damn, this is… a lot.”
“Enough to turn the tide, I hope?” Frankie asked.
“There’s a chance it might be… If there’s anything left once we get back. Two of their bunkers are already swarming with Arxur.”
“T-Two?” I stammered. “Which ones?”
The predator shook his head dismissively. “Talk later.”
I shook my antennae in irritation, until another human then emerged from around the truck. It was the dark-skinned, dark-haired human from before as well, Dusty. Her vest had several lesions across it, far more than the few Frankie had received during his gutsiness. She wasn’t unscathed, however, as her left sleeve had been pulled up, revealing a stripe of bandaging. Her eyes regarded me with an expression I couldn't decipher, turning into a more shocked expression when they saw Reno. “...Damn.”
The Lieutenant turned to her. “Keep an eye out from where they came. Reno, do the same for the other side of the street. I’m not looking to get ambushed again.”
The two signaled their understanding. Luke’s gaze lingered a little longer on the wounded Yotul as he hobbled to retrieve his weapon from the truck.
Frankie grunted from behind me, picking up two big and bloodied crates. “Open the doors, would ya?”
I obliged, yanking open the hatches to the truck so the burly human could deposit the weapons. Luke walked past me, saw the mess in the back of the van, and shook his head while muttering something. Still, he crouched and grabbed two crates in each hand.
I couldn’t very well just stand around, so I begrudgingly walked over and picked the cleanest crates I could manage while repelling the numerous dry heaves my body wanted to conjure. I hefted them up, and followed the same path as Luke and Frankie.
I passed Dusty, who groaned, rubbing her left arm. “Why do these idiots use such a small caliber? You’d think they’d want to kill the people they’re shooting at.”
I nervously tilted my antennae. “You would… hope so.”
“They enjoy the thrill of the hunt,” Reno growled. “Use it to just incapacitate their prey. Dead ones don’t squirm while they’re eaten.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the street. As we continued to load the human armaments into the truck, the two kept a cautious set of eyes out on either side of the street. Frankie managed to fit the big gun back into its respective crate while Luke stared at it, incredulously. Dusty glanced back with a similar look, which gave me the feeling the predators were all thinking the same thing. The only one who didn’t break his focus was Reno.
The van got emptier, the truck got fuller, and soon enough we were ready to leave this place for good. Luke gave us the clear and got into the driver seat. Frankie took the front passenger seat, leaving the three of us to squeeze into the back. The windshield left a lot to be desired, and I wondered if Luke would even be able to see through it.
It was cramped, to say the least. I was forced into the side, with the Yotul in the middle, while Dusty filled in the remaining seat. From someone looking in from outside, it would be a very strange sight to behold.
She slammed the door shut. “Tight fuckin’ fit. Hope we have enough fuel.”
“Won’t be an issue,” Luke said, sending the engine revving as we began to accelerate.
Thank Formi we’re finally leaving. How long have I been awake for? How long have the Arxur been in Tepisil? And how are the exterminators from the human camp doing? There’s far too much to worry about.
I hoped Tealk was fine in the hatchery’s bunker. That is, if it wasn’t already compromised. Tepisil was given the tiny mercy of just a small warning prior to any bombs dropping. The shelters were likely packed to the brim. Just waiting for the Arxur to come.
“Frankie, give me some light, would ya?” Dusty ordered. She had pulled Reno’s hindlegs on her lap, and was now inspecting them with the help of Frankie’s flashlight. I could see the green blood that had leaked down his legs from the wounds, along with pieces of black debris.
Reno had no choice but to let Dusty tend to him. I tried my best to ignore the blood she was forcing out by ripping through the bandages, though I gagged upon seeing her dig into his flesh with a pair of tweezers, pulling out a small bullet while he hissed in pain. Those were the only noises for a time while the human used a strange syringe to push some sort of foam into the wound, then tightly wrapping his legs.
She did a better job than I ever could’ve. At this point, it shouldn’t have impressed me that the predators had a concept of medicine or even treatment for the wounded, rather than just leaving the weak for dead. The amount of care she put into someone from another species spoke volumes to the humans’ empathetic capacity.
The streetlights of the city finally receded from us. I could almost feel the weighty air in the truck lighten, like a part of the despair had been left behind in Dirlsil. It wouldn’t last for long.
At some point in the middle of all the crop fields, Frankie cleared his throat. “Can I be the one to break the silence? ‘Cause Reno shot that gray with a whole bloody anti-materiel rifle.”
“God, I’m glad somebody finally fucking said it. Point blank, too,” Dusty said.
The Yotul didn’t offer a response, only stared off into the distance. I felt nothing but sympathy for him. They meant well, but I suspected they did more harm than good. The humans clearly had no idea what he’d just gone through; the fear, the uncertainty, the possibility of being eaten alive. I had a feeling the only reason he was alive was because of his quick thinking, the Arxur’s cockiness, and luck.
Luke cleared his throat. “Uh, how did you fare, Frankie? I saw the marks on your vest.”
My human grunted. “Barely even felt them hit me. Once the shooting started we dove back into the toy shop. Arxur are damn cocky bastards, but I don’t reckon they’re used to whatever they’re chasing fighting back so hard. Shot one, ran up the stairs, shot the other. Easy as that.”
It was not, in fact, as easy as that. I was terrified the entire time. It was Frankie who did everything, and even then, he screamed and shouted during the entire encounter. He was fearless in the face of fear while I had been useless. Again. My only saving grace was that I didn’t freeze like I did at the PD facility, even if that meant I merely ran instead. I felt a stab of anger mixed with regret, an entirely unwelcome feeling that I decidedly earned.
I can’t rely on the Terrans forever. At some point, my uncontrollable fear is going to cost lives. I… I can’t let fear be the driver.
“We had four of the fuckers on us,” Dusty said. “Retreated into the store opposite yours. We were doing just fine ‘till one of them tossed a grenade.”
I felt Reno tense up to me. He had a thousand-lightyear stare.
“Then they came in after us, separated us from Reno. They were fucking relentless, didn’t give us a chance to fight. Forced us all the way back into the stockroom, then kept pushing their luck. Finally had a corner, then the bastards leapt forward rather than being smart, getting me tagged. Hurts like hell just thinking about flexing the muscle.”
“God, can we change the subject? I regret asking,” Lieutenant Holtas said, shifting uncomfortably. “Frankie, you want to try again with the UN? And Herq, now that you’re with us, can you contact Von and inform him of what happened?”
I almost flinched when he said my name. “Y-Yeah, of course.” I started to pull out my holopad. I hovered over Tealk’s contact before moving to Von’s. I tapped the icon, and it rang for only a second before he picked up.
“Herq?”
I pulled the pad closer, overhearing Frankie start his own call to the UN. “Yes, it’s me. We made it out of Dirlsil with the weapons, and we’re in one piece.”
“Formi is that good to hear. I won't sugarcoat it, things have gotten much worse. You may have heard it from the humans, but cattle shuttles just landed around Bunker Four… which has no one to defend it. Bunker Six had contact and they are at a stalemate, but won't stay that way. I… sincerely hope you brought lots of ammo.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I can’t say for certain what the predators brought with us… We’re driving as fast as we can, we expect to be there in forty minutes.”
“Too long… The grays are already going into buildings, trying to flush them out. We don’t have the firepower.”
“I… We need a rally point in order to distribute them as fast as possible.”
“One advantage is that they aren’t using their numbers prowling the empty buildings on the outskirts… Shit, Polle is calling me… It’s about Bunker Six. Listen, I’ll send you more information when I can. Call me ten minutes before you reach the city.”
“Yes, of course. Please, stay safe.”
“We both know that isn’t going to happen. Hurry.”
A tone signified he hung up the call. I tentatively swirled my antennae, seeing my company look away. “I-I’m guessing everyone heard that?”
Reno flicked his ears, and the humans nodded from the front seats. A steady silence came over us. It was probably well into the early hours of the morning at this point. My body was tired, and my mind more so. I knew well that I should have been more scared or worried, but I simply didn’t have the energy. It was like Frankie said earlier.
“Who wants a granola bar?” Frankie abruptly barked.
Luke shrugged. “I mean…”
The two humans accepted his offer, not like they had much choice since they were already being distributed. A bar was put into Reno’s paws, and suddenly, I was holding one too.
“It… doesn’t have meat, does it?” I asked.
“No, you idiot. I don’t eat meat,” Reno hissed, unwrapping his food.
“Sorry… I just wanted-”
“It’s just a bar of sugary grain. You’d think you would know by now that humans aren’t going to hurt you, or do anything else ‘predatory.’” He said the last word with distaste, like it personally offended him. He was clearly more used to the primates than I was, or ever could be. I knew they wouldn’t mean me any harm, but it was hard to shake off the thoughts that always lingered in my mind when around predators.
I thought his behavior was simply fried nerves from his close call with the Arxur, but there was something more to it, something bitter in his tone that hinted at more than just the last encounter. It reminded me of hearing about his outburst at my sister, Tealk, back at the hatchery. It didn’t sit right with me, but I wasn’t in any position to ask him about it, especially not at that moment.
Dusty was already stuffing the bar into her mouth, not much caring for how revolting I found it. I’d gotten used to their toothy smiles, but seeing her take a bite, just like she would chow down on a piece of bloody meat… If I wasn’t so hungry after so many hours, I would’ve lost my appetite.
Reno bit into the bar, and I carefully unwrapped mine, ignoring the female’s sickening mouth movements. I gave a cautionary sniff before taking a small nibble. It was acceptable, even good considering I hadn’t eaten for so long. I took another bite, then another, and then I noticed Dusty looking at me.
I couldn’t help the way my muscles tensed in agitation. She was instinctively sizing me up, now that food was on her mind. “W-What is it?” I stuttered.
She raised her eyebrows, glancing away. “Nothing. Just the way you move your hands, er… tarsals? Tarsals, across your mandibles when you eat. It’s… nevermind.”
My… tarsals? I flexed a feeler, inspecting it like something was wrong with it. I looked back at the predator, who was now looking out the window. At least she wasn’t… staring at me anymore. Humans got stranger every moment I spent with them. I thought there was a glimmer of hope that they wouldn’t all be as strange as Frankie, but that clearly had yet to be proven.
I took another small bite. Before I knew it, I had eaten the whole thing and had nothing left to occupy the time. There were only dark crop fields outside our truck, and predators or the predator-diseased inside. Nothing to distract me from the knowledge that Sillis was going to fall. Nothing to distract me from the thoughts telling me to give up, to run away, like a coward.
A muted atmosphere of haunting tranquility came over our vehicle, one that everyone silently and willfully acknowledged. We all knew what we were driving towards.
—
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Thanks to u/WCR_706 for proofreading. And, of course, thanks to SpacePaladin15 for the wonderful universe.

Thanks to Scott Burke for pointing out this Doka ("poem/song of the way") by Morihei Ueshiba that appeared in "Aikibudo o Kiku", from Shin Budo Magazine, October 1941.
Aikibudo o Kiku - 1941
”惟神光と熱の合気道, 世をば清めん八紘の玉”
Kannagara hikari to netsu no Aikidō, Yo wo ba kiyomen, Hakkō no tama
Aikido,
The Light and Heat of Kannagara,
Jewel of the Eight Directions,
Purifies the World.
Briefly, "Kannagara" refers to the "Way of the Gods", a metaphorical reference Morihei Ueshiba often used to refer to the interaction of Yin and Yang.
The interaction of Yin and Yang creates heat and light - a reference to the creation of internal power - martial power.
The "jewel" is a term that Morihei Ueshiba often used to refer to the Dantian - so, the interaction of Yin and Yang here creates internal power, martial, physical power through the Dantian.
What about the last section about the eight directions? Well, here we see, once again, Morihei Ueshiba's fondness for multiple layers of meaning.
In one layer we see that he is saying that the interaction of Yin and Yang creates internal power, martial power, physical power, through the Dantian, expressed in all directions through the body.
But that's not all! Yin/Yang and Heaven-Earth-Man cosmologies in China and Japan were commonly seen as kind of "universal field theories" that explained physical theories of martial body usage, mental theories of psychological balance, health oriented theories, and socio-politically oriented theories.
Here Morihei Ueshiba uses the Kanji for "Eight Cords", in reference to "Hakko Ichiu", the Japanese political slogan meaning the divine right of the Empire of Japan to "unify the eight corners of the world.", a slogan that formed the basis of the empire's ideology. It was popularized in a speech by Prime Minister Fumimaro Konoe, Morihei Ueshiba's patron and student, on January 8, 1940. Konoe was also on the board of directors of Morihei Ueshiba's Kobukai organization, the predecessor for the modern Aikikai.
In other words, there was another layer of meaning, in which Aikido was meant to be a process through which one worked to purify the world in order to unite it in a ultra-nationalist right wing Empire under the aegis of Japan and the Japanese imperial family.
Ellis Amdur referred to this concept in "Hidden in Plain Sight":
"Ueshiba saw himself as a kind of avatar, instrumental in ushering in a golden age of redemption, the unification of Heaven, Earth, and Man. To a considerable degree, he was unconcerned about whether others became avatars like himself. He regarded aikidō practitioners as living out their fate as appointed by their ‘chief guardian deity,’ doing the work of the ‘spiritual proletariat,’ accumulating merit and energy through aikidō practice, just as the followers of the Byakkokai did by prayer, while Goi, another avatar, did the hard work."
Morihei Ueshiba restated this basic idea in 1960:
合気道は宇宙万世一系の大いなる道なり。
"Aikido is the Great Way of the Universal Bansei Ikkei."

• Morihei Ueshiba in the "Takemusu Aiki" lectures, 1958~1961

"Bansei Ikkei" is the "unbroken Japanese Imperial line", and here Morihei Ueshiba again refers to one of his primary goals for Aikido, expressed both before and after the war, as a way towards establishing a "paradise on Earth" - in other words (as he would say elsewhere in the same post-war lectures), a right-wing ultra-nationalist religious utopia under the aegis of the Japanese empire.
One last thing - notice the interesting use of the word "Aikido"? The Aikikai states that the name "Aikido" was adopted in 1942. Minoru Hirai, who often claims credit for the implementation of the name through his work with Dai Nippon Butokukai, also stated that this occurred in 1942. But here we see that the phrase was actually in use somewhat earlier, concurrent with "Aiki Budo" (as in the title of the article).
This persisted after the war, as recounted by Hiroshi Tada:
"GuillaumeErard.com: When you started, was it already called "Aikido"?
Tada Hiroshi: When I was admitted it was not called that yet, it was called “Aiki-Budo”. There was no official name. "
Morihei Ueshiba himself stated in a post-war interview that the name "Aikido" was adopted some time after the war, at the suggestion of an official from the Ministry of Education, which throws another issue on the pile.
What does the naming mean? Likely, much less than many people think. It's common to read significant meaning into name changes, but the name of Morihei Ueshiba's art changed many times over the years, primarily, it seems, due to the influence of parties...other than Morihei Ueshiba, who was, as far as I can tell, massively disinterested in what the art was actually called.

(Warning, because I haven't posted in a bit and am not sure how this would fall for some folks, but this one is a bit "Horror Movie" inspired, and a bit gory/violent)
Traitors of Rath
Post Lord Daug's Disappearance
Lord Daug had vanished, reports indicating he may have been lost in battle with enemy forces that he had been hunting through the wilds. Jeremy snorted at that, served the fat bastard right, the rathians may hold the noble in high regard, probably brainwashed by something in the water on that damned planet they loved so much, but Jeremy wasn't from Rath and by the emperors sitting ass he knew better than to trust in a noble. Which had made what he and the guys were planning a lot easier to stomach.
He nodded at Nel as the man spooned him some gruel into his bowl, a mix of ration packs and of some kinda local plant the rats had said was good to eat. That was another thing! What kind of self-respecting man trusted those THINGS? Every single rath born trooper treated them like they were little mini officers, it was DISGUSTING. There was no way the stories about the nobles asses butler were even halfway true, just stories to keep the men in line. Like they would be scared of a rat.
Jeremy resisted the urge to spit and signed at Nel, making sure the seargent couldn't see the signs. Nel signed back, and Jeremy smiled, their plan was ago, after tonight they would slip off and signal to the xenos that they wanted to surrender. Of course, the seargent, the only brainwashed bastard of Rath in their whole squad would protest, but they had a way to fix that, emperor issued too. Sure, the xenos were barely better than animals, but they at least had food, and weren't a thrice blighted noble or officer telling him what to do.
Jeremy took a spoonful of the rather decent gruel and hummed to himself as he ate. He would be first watch, and then when time came for shift change the seargent was supposed to relieve him. Then they'd be ready to have a talk with the seargent all seven of their remaining men.
...
Jeremy stirred slowly, since they weren't gonna be part of the guard after tonight who gave an imperial damnation if he slept on duty. But something was wrong, he couldn't figure out what the bad feeling was, but he struggled his way out of the blankets he had tucked around himself vaguely panicked. He hadn't been with the reigment long, but he had been a scout long enough to know this silence...was bad.
Carefully he moved back towards the little outpost they had occupied, some kinda poured stone stuff, like he knew what that shit was, with a heavy metal door. Whatever was coming, it would be safer with a few more lasguns around him. Having reached the edge of the clearing around the outposts entrance he looked around carefully and seeing no sign of danger dashed for cover in the doorway, the inset door offered plenty of cover for him to take while he knocked the passcode.
Or would have, had the door not been ajar...and the scent of blood wafted from within. Jeremy froze. That was a bad sign...a very bad sign. That was a LOT of blood he was smelling...but if someone had attacked, why hadn't he heard it? Slowly carefully, he pushed the door open further with the barrel of his lasgun. Even if he would have preferred to retreat, doing so alone was probably certain death, especially considering all his kit was inside.
The door swung open stiffly, as if stuck on something...and then something fell from the top of it into Jeremy's arms, he fumbled for a second, catching it between his hand and lasgun. Then he screamed and chucked away Nel's head, his lasgun was back up and at the ready aiming at the door. While he panted in fear. Then he heard something crunch the snow behind him, he spun around and opened fire blindly into the small stand of trees that surrounded this outpost.
His shots blew chunks from the trees and caused steam to rise from new craters in the snow, but no figure emerged from the moonlit shadows to face him. And that only made the terror worse. Jeremy spun and body slammed the door, forcing it forward and entering the outpost. Quickly he spun and slammed the door back shut again...only to find his hands in a massive smear of blood. Trembling he looked down and saw Nel's body below, the object that had blocked the door. Slowly his eyes went upwards to the top of the door, staring at the gore.
Trembling he threw his entire body weight against the door as he felt something slam into it with incredible force, only him holding it and Nel's body being in the way kept the door shut, and he fumbled with the latch. It was a secure door, once he locked it, the door would hold, it HAD to hold! Jeremy struggled, every slam against the door forcing him to throw himself back against it, cursing desperately as it failed to lock again and again. Finally, with a heavy clank, the door closed, and its lock fell into place.
Jeremy exhausted, slide downwards in the pool of blood at the door, happy that the 33rds footwear had not slipped in the mess. Jeremy cursed to himself again and stood up trembling as the banging on the door seemed to end. Whatever was on the other side...he didn't see it, but it was no man. No human was that strong, no human could...use the top of a door as a upside down guilotine. With a shudder Jeremy turned from the door and surveyed the room, grimacing as he caught sight of... Jenny, he thinks that who it was, their head apparently inside the now upended stew pot, still.
On the left, Ramsos and Hinkle were both dead, crushed against a wall by the table they'd been seated at, Ramsos slumped forward, Hinkle pinned to the wall by one of the standard issue sporks through his throat. On the right, it looked like Vanessa had been torn limb from limb by something. Massive tears across her body and limbs missing. Looking around Jeremy realized there were two people missing, Lowozky and Seargent Tion. Hope erupted in his chest, maybe they survived? The seargent may be able to deal with whatever was attacking them, he was a veteran he had to know some way to stay alive!
Jeremy looked around frantically trying to think of where they could have gone. "Lowozky! Seargent!?" he called out and then his eyes fell on the only door deeper into the place, he rushed over to it, and pulled it open. Maybe Lowozky had hid in the latrine?
He had.
But he had not survived.
Jeremy wretched at the stench and stepped back. Lowozky had voided himself in death, unfortunately he had been shoved head and shoulders first down the latrine and not the other way around.
The banging at the door resumed, this time harder.
And then Jeremy heard the roar of a chain sword revving.
...
Seargent Tion strode through the snow, covered in blood, he would have changed, but this had been his last decent uniform. He carried his kit on his back, chainsword holstered at his side. His las pistol had been lost in battle days ago alongside his combat knife.
It had made the night more unpleasant than he would have hoped. Then again, it would have been unpleasant either way. Tion shook his head and lamented the loss of seven soldiers of the imperium. It was unfortunate but he could not hold this post on his own, and due to his failure seven men were lost. If the Lord was here he would report to command immediately but...as it was...
He would have to find other imperial forces to report his deriliction of duty, losing seven men to poor morale when they were in his care was a serious failure. Though the Rathian did have to wonder.
How in the world did Jeremy sleep through the racket? Tion shook his head at the mans poor discipline, yet another failing of Tion's, he didn't instill a proper attitude and it showed.

You know when you’re drinking with your sister or your best friend, and you start having all of these “great” ideas that are actually terrible? And the sentences always start with “wouldn’t it be great if…”? That’s pretty much what happened here, and the authors kept a running tally of “great ideas” and threw them altogether into one 1000+ page monstrosity of unnecessary word vomit.

Because this book lacked so much context, here are some thoughts without context.

1. I didn’t know we could coat our skin in metal to protect ourselves from being injured - would have been helpful in book 7, perhaps?
2. I also didn’t know that we could use water magic to control the bodies of our enemies through their blood. Seems convenient.
3. Maybe we should use a silencing bubble if we want to do belt play (which we’ve never done before in these books) in a semi-public space while we are supposed to be on a mission? It’s giving - Feyre and Rhys in the war camp.
4. Wow I’m learning so much about orders, but apparently a legitimate order is a drum roll crab? Like a crab? Seems stupid and doesn’t make sense with what we learned before.
5. On that note? Other academies? I’d just read an entire book on that.
6. Ladies, I didn’t need to know how long a character’s long Sherman was. And I don’t think you actually know what 10” is. Maybe because you’re British, but do some research.
7. Did every character besides Seth get a lobotomy? Because everyone’s personalities were wrong.
8. Back to the magic-apparently we can use magic to fix whole books? And reverse age them? Wow everyone must have done an accelerated course since last book.
9. Anatomically correct long Sherman out of ice that we can just create in the heat of the moment without thinking? (Wildly unnecessary) Wow I want to take that accelerate course.
10. The middle 700 pages were slow.
11. There were characters named Frank and Alice (Longbottom) that died together during the war. Get outta here.
12. Possessed chia pets come to save the day.
13. Darius, Xavier, or Tharix were not the ones to kill Lionel. Criminal. It was also too easy.
14. Apparently the stars do NOT interfere with their lives. They just observe due to a conflict in the past. Weird because I thought they did and we didn’t want to upset them.
15. I did not need to read about Xavier’s troubles with finishing. My eyes were bleeding.
16. “Horny for the horn” hasn’t been funny since book 3. Why was it added in the epilogue?
17. We learn nothing about how Solaria is running at the end. At all. No resolution with the celestial council, no scenes on figuring out how to restore the country, nothing about the lesser orders. The last 70 pages were RUSHED.
18. And finally - I will be adding “more than 4 children” to my list of hate crimes an author can commit against women in an epilogue.

Bonus - why did we need almost 200 pages of slow ass battle scenes? Just for Lionel to be removed so easily?

Content warning: Trauma
I got my first IUD on Friday. I had never had a pap or examine (32 yr) and have always felt guilty about being behind on preventative health care. I have also exclusively used withdraw since I was 18. I have only been in long term relationships and when the birth control conversation inevitably came up in the beginning of each, I would bristle. It would follow the ceasing of condom use and come with the implication that we (I) should be more responsible about birth control. I resented the suggestion that I alone should be responsible for altering my body to accommodate a man's, even my partner's, pleasure because they would rather not wear condoms and don't want to pull out. The idea of bearing the full burden of responsibility by inserting a foreign object in my body, in my most intimate organ has always insensed me on a fundamental level. But in truth, I always felt guilty for depriving my partner. and when friends would rebuke my choices as reckless- I don't know how many times I've been told I must be infertile if I haven't become pregnant yet while not using birth control. So when I went for my first exam, I thought it might be wise to do the responsible thing that I've felt urged to do from all fronts.
I wasn't nervous. In fact I saw it as a challenge to overcome. I listened to the information given to me during the consultarion. I felt like I had enough of a grasp of what was going to happen. I was offered xanax and lidocaine, but it was implied that lidocaine could be just as painful. I don't feel I was discouraged necessarily, but I felt it was not being encouraged. I wish I would have taken both offers instead of just the ibuprofen.
I was told of the potential pain and range of variable experience, that some women have felt the pain of insertion worse than child birth. But everyone that knows me knows that I have a high pain tolerance. And so say many women I imagine. The doctor told me I might have a "whoosh" experience, which I understood to mean fainting. I still didn't feel much fear leading up to the procedure.
I was told how the procedure would go, the assessment, the speculum, the measuring and the insertion. I was surprised by the size of the model iuds, though I'm not sure what I was expecting. I thought I understood the sounding- I didn't. I had no idea about the tenaculum. Once the examine was rolling it seemed all previously mentioned anxiety and pain management were off the table unless I insisted they stop.
I was uncomfortable from the beginning and realized I was in for an unpleasant experience if I couldn't get myself to relax. The resident MD was being coached by the doctor. I heard them discussing the tilt of my uterus as she seemingly went rutting around for my cervix. Even the cotton swab was painful. They brought in a nurse to squeeze my hand and try to distract me with idle conversation. He was a literal angel and I wouldn't have been able even attempt to mask the agony without him there.
I knew it could be painful but I had no idea. I have only ever heard of the "pinch" and some menstrual like cramps. I had only ever heard from women that had had relatively uncomplicated insertions with moderate pain if any.
The insertion was the single most excruciating event of my life. It is still so surreal as my mind is already trying to protect me from the memory days later. I was close to screaming but tried hard to laugh through the agony out of embarrassment and not wanting to make the doctors feel bad. I wish I had blacked out but I was acutely aware of every sensation. At peak pain, I did something I would normally never do and said "This Really Hurts". I can't put into words how much but I know some reading this may understand.
It felt like it lasted ages but eventually it was over. I felt absolutely broken. I was able to sit up even though I was in severe pain and all I could feel was my wrecked cervical canal and the device inside of me. I was able to dress and have some juice that was brought to me. The angel nurse came and sat with me some more to make sure I was okay. I was not, there was no position I could sit or stand in for relief but I again tried to put on a brave face, for a moment.
I felt delirious trying to make conversation and I suddenly realized I was sweating profusely. I informed him I needed to get undressed again. He suggested I lay back down. Terrible, no. I put my head under the faucet. My pelvis was screaming. Standing was awful. I hobbled to the bathroom across the hall and immediately took my shirt off again, more water. I felt like I needed to shit and puke. The pain was getting worse and worse so I weakly crossed the hall again shirtless back to the bed. Now the staff were concerned and coming to assist me.
I spent the next HOUR in pain again, nearly as bad as the procedure. Charlie horse level cramps all over from the waste down, the worst of which concentrated in my cervix. Fever chills and aches like the worst food poisoning/stomach virus you've ever had. The muscles in my hips were screaming and moving was not an option. I had ice packs on my head and warm packs all around my waste. I wondered if my body was in full assault mode against a perceived foreign invader. I am pretty sure I was in shock. I was hypotensive the whole time while a new nurse monitored my vitals. I struggled to respond to any one verbally.
The doctor overseeing the insertion swung by, placed pressure on my lower stomach and asked if it hurt. Yes. You're not gushing blood though are you? No. I don't recall him saying much else before a left again. Later, when delivering my exit consultation he reminded me of the "whoosh" sensation he'd told me about and explained thats what I had just experienced for the last hour and that it was not uncommon.
I felt like I was nailed to that bed for hours pouring sweat and trying everything to avoid the pain in my entire body. Eventually I noticed my breaths were finally seeming to connect back to my heart rate. I started coming back to life and immediately asked the new nurse if she knew why male birth control options were not available in the US after decades. She flatly responded, the patriarchy. I told her I had used tracking and withdraw for the past 14 years and I wasn't sure what I had just done to my body was necessary. She agreed, tracking could be a viable planning option she said. I still hadn't shed a tear during this ordeal.
Tears were to come and to come repeatedly in the following days, every time I remember anything about what happened. I was depleted and deeply depressed. I feel hurt and violated and alone. I'm not mad at any one in particular. I mad on the whole that we are made to feel we have an obligation to bravely endure Why?
The pain largely subsided after the worst of it but I could, and still can, feel the IUD inside me. I hope that awareness goes away and I can eventually forget it's there and what I went through for it. I was starting to feel better today until I got my medical report in my email. Notes for post procedure: "patient tolerated procedure well."
I am so beyond hurt and angry. This has to be a mistake? I've left voice messages with the clinic. This is very important for me that this is corrected, for my record and the larger record. I found it so hard to find stories like mine outside of this forum. Are they going unreported? How common is this? What are these statistics that are published?
I'm mad and exhausted and I hurt for anyone who had also experienced this. I want to hear your stories of your experiences, even if they were more fortunate than mine.
I don't not recommend getting any IUD, but I won't recommend it, at least not without pain management. do yourself the favor. But I feel more opposed to the concept now than ever before. I won't accept that this is the best option available in this day and age. Really?

She’s at Banfield vet right now and they said they would run tests for giardia and pancreatitis. I’m waiting to hear back from them and trying not to panic.
Would love to hear the results of other people who experienced this. She’s never vomited in her entire life before this :(
• ⁠Species: dog • ⁠Age: 8 • ⁠Sex/Neuter status: spayed • ⁠Breed: chihuahua mix (very tall and skinny, possibly some sort of sighthound) • ⁠Body weight: 19 pounds • ⁠History: She had 2 incidents as a puppy. She broke her long skinny front leg and needed a surgery to install metal rod and screws and was in a cast until it healed. And then she chewed up a tube of my steroidal psoriasis ointment and was hospitalized for a few days where they were worried about calcification to her kidneys/soft tissues due to the high content of vitamin D and something else I forget in the ointment. She ended up being fine but I’ve always been a little worried that something would happen later in her life
• ⁠Clinical signs: it started last night around 10pm where I put her to bed in her crate and she suddenly pooped in her bed which is very unusual for her. It was half normal poop and half liquidy diarrhea, with some bits that looked kind of like blood and kind of like her undigested supper. She gets kibble and probiotic in the morning and a premade balanced raw blend for dinner that we buy from a local farm. I’m confused how the raw blend could pass through her undigested within an hour or two.
I cleaned her up and put her back to bed but then she started whining again so I let her out and she paced around for a while and then started panting heavily which scared me. She then threw up twice within 30min, consisting of most of her undigested dinner and foamy white mucous. Even more concerning that she’s never thrown up in her life.
She drank some water and seemed to settle down so I fell asleep but when I woke up there were maybe 5 puddles of bloody red diarrhea and vomit around the room. So that’s when we decided to take her to the vet this morning around 8am. • ⁠Duration: see above • ⁠Your general location: Massachusetts • ⁠Links to any test results, X-rays, vet reports etc. that you have: none yet

Imagine if you will that you have been accused of a triple murder. Sentenced to a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Twelve jurors in Kentucky found the evidence convincing enough to convict Christian "Kit" Martin for the murders of his neighbors Calvin Phillips, Pam Phillips and Ed Dansereau.
His defense is that he was framed by a vindictive wife (Adele "Joan" Harman) that threatened to ruin him if he divorced her. The jurors got to hear very little about the backstory, a pattern of wild lies and deceptions and accusations against prior men in her lives when things didn't go her way, all discovered by private investigators.
This was a heavy circumstantial case. Joan and her son were allowed to plead the 5th and that fact was not disclosed to the jurors. Out of more than 100 DNA samples tested not one belonged to Kit. There were two key pieces of evidence that convinced these jurors beyond a reasonable doubt the Kit Martin was guilty. Kit claims those two pieces of evidence were planted so lets take a closer look:
First we have the dogtag. I mean, Kit must have done it because he left his dogtag right? There are four critical problems with this evidence:

1. The name on the dogtag read "Martin, Kit" so this dogtag is not military issue. The military only issues tags with the full name (not nicknames) which would have been printed instead "Martin, Christian." Fake souvenir tags can be purchased online (an even in kiosks in some locations) to read what you input on your order. I know a lot of military people and know exactly zero that wear their tags outside of work. But let's say for arguments sake that the souvenir tag really was Kit's. The murders were planned in "precise military fashion" according to the prosecution, yet Kit chooses to put on a souvenir tag with his name on it that morning? I find that very hard to believe.
2. This souvenir tag was tested for fingerprints and DNA and they found none. The prosecution argued that while Kit was cleaning up the blood from the carpet in the foyer, the tag must have kept getting in his way so he took it off and set it up on a shelf. That seems really far-fetched.
3. The tag was on a string and not a break-a-way chain which was also tested for DNA evidence and there was "some DNA evidence" but apparently not enough to make a comparison to Kit's. This seems really off to me. If someone had just committed three murders, I would imagine they would have sweat a bit leaving behind DNA. Yet interestingly there is no DNA evidence on the tag or string matching Kit.
4. Besides the most ridiculous idea that a murderer would even put that tag on before going to commit these murders, he had the forethought to wipe it down real good when removing it when it was in his way (to remove any fingerprints and DNA). Instead of putting it in his pocket, he places it on a shelf and then he forgets to take it when he leaves? Wow, really?

So the second major piece of evidence in this murder case was a spent 45 casing that matched the Glock found in Kit's safe. Here again there are a few problems with this evidence:

1. Kit was portrayed by the prosecution as a highly trained ranger who skillfully planned out these murders (or at least Calvin and Pam's as Ed was an unexpected variable). But then afterwards he walked across the street and placed the murder weapon in his safe instead of ditching it? That's not too bright.
2. The 45 casing was found by family members when cleaning the porch area FIVE months AFTER the murders. This was despite the porch area being processed THREE separate times; once by Christian County Sheriffs Department, once when Detective Scott Smith went to spray the scene with Blue Star (Luminol), and lastly when Crime Scene Investigators came in to try to determine where on the property the shootings took place.
3. The bullets found in Cal's body were not conclusively linked to Kit's Glock in his safe. But the 45 casing found by family members WAS positively identified as being fired from Kit's Glock.
4. Kit testified that when he first moved to the area he hung out with Cal some and did target shooting in Cal's backyard. There is no doubt that Kit was a gun enthusiast, but that does not make a person a murderer. He had spent casings in his backyard, Cal's backyard and in his truck bed. So it would be easy for someone to collect one of Kit's spent casings and plant it on the porch through the latticework.

So there you have it - so much reasonable doubt, zero DNA evidence yet Kit sits in prison with a life sentence. I want justice for the murders of Cal, Pam and Ed as much as anyone but I want the true killes behind bars. The entire case was aired on Court TV but a great book outlining this complicated triple murder along with much of the backstory was just released: https://www.amazon.com/WILL-RUIN-YOU-Twisted-Behind/dp/1960332651/ref=sr_1_1?crid=16F4EJ1ADIAFW&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.0Uv31xRkigJgf0YtFU_hoTDA5NKrUkmCjLdhWuYJt7PGjHj071QN20LucGBJIEps.JPhlG_WJosxW0v7nGrsHoDXG_IlDGM6632INYnJiFwA&dib_tag=se&keywords=emilio+corsetti&qid=1715785721&sprefix=emilio+corsetti%2Caps%2C184&sr=8-1
A good reference for this case is the Dateline episode "The Evil That Watches." https://www.nbc.com/dateline/video/the-evil-that-watches/9000190878
Another good shorter synopsis (though a HUGE mistake is minute 4:25 where he states the phone found in the driveway was determined to be Pam's. It was Ed's phone found in the driveway. Joan was actually the one that took Pam's phone into the ATT store about a month after the murders saying she found it and wanted to get it unlocked (that's a whole crazy part of evidence that also convinces me that Kit is innocent - #joanhadthephone https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2WbFF7SyeSg

1. Resistors:

Function: Limits current, divides current, creates voltage drops, adjusts voltage.
Variable Parameter: Resistance (R) - measured in Ohms (Ω).
Significance: The higher the resistance value, the lower the current through it, and vice versa.
Construction: A resistive core (carbon, metal, ceramic, etc.) coated with an insulating layer.
Operating Principle: Based on the collision of electrons with atoms in the resistive core, reducing the energy of the electrons and converting it into heat energy.
Applications: Widely used in electronic circuits, from simple to complex circuits. For example: limiting current through LEDs, dividing current in amplifier circuits, creating voltage drops for voltage regulator circuits, adjusting voltage in filter circuits...

2. Capacitors:

Function: Stores electrical energy, filters signals, blocks AC current, passes DC current.
Variable Parameter: Capacitance (C) - measured in Farads (F).
Significance: The higher the capacitance value, the greater the ability to store electrical energy, and vice versa.
Construction: Two parallel metal plates separated by an insulating dielectric (paper, ceramic, mica...).
Operating Principle: When a voltage is applied, an electric field is created between the capacitor plates, charging the capacitor plates. When the power is turned off, the electric field remains and keeps the capacitor plates charged.
Applications: Very diverse in electronic circuits, from power supply filtering to oscillator circuits. For example: filtering power for electronic circuits, generating pulses for oscillator circuits, blocking noise signals...

3. Inductors:

Function: Stores electrical energy in the form of a magnetic field, resists sudden changes in current, creates time delays.
Variable Parameter: Inductance (L) - measured in Henrys (H).
Significance: The higher the inductance value, the greater the resistance to sudden changes in current, and vice versa.
Construction: A coil of conductive wire wrapped around a core (plastic, iron...).
Operating Principle: When current flows through the inductor, a magnetic field is created around it. When the current changes, the magnetic field also changes, generating an induced voltage in the opposite direction of the current, counteracting the sudden change in current.
Applications: Common in power supply filtering, resonant circuits, transformer circuits... For example: filtering power for electronic circuits, generating pulses for oscillator circuits, converting voltage...

4. Diodes:

Function: Allows current to flow in one direction, blocks current in the opposite direction.
Variable Parameter: Threshold voltage (Uf) - measured in Volts (V).
Significance: The higher the threshold voltage, the higher the voltage required for the diode to conduct.
Construction: Two semiconductor layers joined together to form a P-N junction.
Operating Principle: Based on the principle of electron and hole diffusion. When there is a forward voltage, current flows through the diode. When there is a reverse voltage, the current is blocked.
Applications: Widely used in electronic circuits, from rectification circuits to protection circuits. For example: rectifying AC power to DC power, protecting electronic circuits from reverse voltage...

5. Transistors:

Function: Amplifies electrical signals, controls current, switches on and off electrical circuits.
Variable Parameter: Hfe (β) - current gain.
Construction: Three semiconductor layers joined together to form N-P-N or P-N-P.
Operating Principle: Based on the control of current through one semiconductor layer (base) by current in another semiconductor layer (emitter, collector).
Applications: Very diverse in electronic circuits, from audio amplifier circuits to microprocessor circuits...

Integrated Circuits (ICs): Operating Principle

Integrated circuits (ICs), also known as microchips, are assemblies of electronic components interconnected on a small semiconductor substrate. These components can include transistors, resistors, capacitors, diodes, and many other types. ICs are used to perform a wide range of electronic functions, from simple to complex.
The basic operating principle of ICs is to utilize the properties of semiconductor materials to create transistors and other electronic components. These transistors are then interconnected according to pre-designed circuit diagrams to perform the desired functions.
There are two main types of ICs:
Digital ICs: This type of IC uses electronic signals at two voltage levels (usually 0V and 5V) to represent data. Digital ICs are used in electronic devices such as computers, mobile phones, and many other devices.
Analog ICs: This type of IC uses electronic signals that can change continuously to represent data. Analog ICs are used in electronic devices such as audio amplifiers, filters, and other devices.

Essential Circuit Blocks in Integrated Circuits (ICs)

Integrated circuits (ICs), also known as microchips, are the cornerstone of modern electronics. These tiny marvels of engineering pack millions of transistors, resistors, capacitors, and other components onto a single semiconductor substrate, enabling them to perform a vast array of functions. Understanding the fundamental circuit blocks that make up ICs is crucial for comprehending their operation and appreciating their versatility.
1. Amplifier Circuits:
o Function: Amplify electronic signals (voltage or current) to enhance their strength.
o Structure: Comprises transistors, resistors, capacitors, and other components connected in amplifier configurations like BJT amplifiers, FET amplifiers, etc.
o Operating Principle: Utilizes the principle of controlling current through a transistor to modify the voltage or current at the output.
o Applications: Widely used in electronic devices like radios, televisions, computers, etc.
2. Logic Circuits:
o Function: Perform logical operations (AND, OR, NOT, etc.) on electronic signals.
o Structure: Consists of logic gates constructed from transistors, resistors, capacitors, and other components.
o Operating Principle: Employs the principle of switching voltage states (0 or 1) to represent the outcome of a logical operation.
o Applications: Employed to build central processing units (CPUs), control circuitry in electronic devices, etc.
3. Oscillator Circuits:
o Function: Generate electronic signals with a periodic oscillating waveform of specific frequency and amplitude.
o Structure: Comprises transistors, capacitors, resistors, and other components connected in oscillator configurations like LC oscillators, RC oscillators, etc.
o Operating Principle: Relies on the principle of charging and discharging a capacitor coupled with transistor amplification to produce an oscillating signal.
o Applications: Utilized in electronic devices like clocks, radio transmitters, etc.
4. Memory Circuits:
o Function: Store data in the form of electronic signals.
o Structure: Consists of memory cells like flip-flops, SRAM, DRAM, etc.
o Operating Principle: Employs the principle of altering the state of memory cells to retain data.
o Applications: Employed in electronic devices like computers, mobile phones, etc.

5. Pulse Generator Circuits:

· Function: Generate electrical pulses with square, triangular, or other waveform shapes at specific frequencies and amplitudes.
· Structure: Comprises multivibrators, 555 timer ICs, and other components.
· Operating Principle: Utilizes the principle of charging and discharging a capacitor coupled with transistor amplification to produce electrical pulses.
· Applications: Employed in electronic devices like clocks, computers, etc.

6. Filter Circuits:

· Function: Eliminate unwanted components from electronic signals, such as noise, harmonic signals, etc.
· Structure: Consists of inductors, capacitors, resistors, and other components connected in filter configurations like RC filters, LC filters, etc.
· Operating Principle: Relies on the principle of blocking or attenuating components with frequencies different from the desired frequency.
· Applications: Widely used in electronic devices like radios, televisions, computers, etc.

7. Comparator Circuits:

· Function: Compare two electronic signals and generate an output signal indicating which signal is greater, smaller, or equal.
· Structure: Comprises voltage comparators or current comparators constructed from transistors, resistors, capacitors, and other components.
· Operating Principle: Employs the principle of comparing the voltage or current of two input signals to produce an appropriate output signal.
· Applications: Utilized in electronic devices like control circuits, timing circuits, etc.

8. Signal Conversion Circuits:

· Function: Convert electronic signals from one form to another, such as converting analog signals to digital signals and vice versa.
· Structure: Consists of A/D converters, D/A converters, comparators, filters, and other components.
· Operating Principle: Relies on the principle of sampling analog signals, encoding them into digital signals, or decoding digital signals into analog signals.
· Applications: Widely used in electronic devices like computers, mobile phones, etc.

9. Control Circuits:

· Function: Control the operation of other circuits within an IC or an electronic system.
· Structure: Comprises logic gates, flip-flops, counters, decoders, and other components.
· Operating Principle: Employs the principle of processing logic signals to control the state of other circuits.
· Applications: Utilized in most electronic devices.

10. Communication Circuits:

· Function: Enable ICs to communicate with other devices in an electronic system or with users.
· Structure: Consists of communication buses, buffers, communication controllers, and other components.
· Operating Principle: Relies on the principle of transmitting and receiving data between devices.
· Applications: Employed in most electronic devices.

11. Voltage Regulator Circuits:

· Function: Provide a stable voltage supply to other circuits within an IC or an electronic system.
· Structure: Comprises transistors, Zener diodes, resistors, and other components connected in voltage regulator configurations like linear regulators, switching regulators, etc.
· Operating Principle: Utilizes the principle of adjusting the output voltage by modifying the resistance or current through the transistor or Zener diode.
· Applications: Widely used in electronic devices like computers, mobile phones, etc.
These essential circuit blocks form the foundation of ICs, empowering them to perform a vast array of functions that underpin modern electronics. From amplifying signals to processing data and enabling communication, ICs have revolutionized technology and continue to drive innovation across various industries.
Many sources

Part 14.3

Heracles VS Lernaean Hydra

Author Note: I was thinking about it and I really wish that GT9 used more draconic symbolism throughout the story when (or if) I revisit Team Crowley VS Rosencreutz I'll have symbolism of Aleister (TheBeast666), Aiwass (Codename: DRAGON) and Coronzon (The Dragon of the Abyss) all have symbology of them being Dragons preying on a God/Hero like CRC and the reversed conflict of Chaos VS Order you see in mythology, I also wanted to achieve something similar with Kakine Teitoku as he can represent the Fallen Angel and the Seraphim but for now I'll try adding draconian symbolism into Gunha VS CRC.
True Expert Christian Rosencreutz, with his golden rosy cross sword, clashed relentlessly against the indomitable force of the Strongest Gemstone, Sogiita Gunha. With each clash of their powers, the air crackled and compressed, and the pavement trembled beneath.
CRC, observed Sogiita with a mixture of intrigue and disdain. "You fight like the legendary Heracles," he remarked, his voice carrying over the din of battle. "But know this, I am the Lernaean Hydra, and no matter how many heads you sever, I shall always rise again!" Rosencreutz roared to slice the #7’s midsection.
Sogiita, his entire body wreathed in unknowable energy, met CRC's blade unyielding. "Bring it on, old man!" he retorted, his voice brimming with confidence. "I'll knock you down as many times as it takes! I won't stop till you come to your senses and remember your roots, like the roses you love so much, Rosencreutz!!"
Their clash intensified, that old man’s higher dimensional sword colliding with the raw power of that boy’s fists and kicks as they pushed each other to their limits with each sword swing, punch, kick and flash.
Sogiita unleashed a barrage of punches, each strike carrying the force of a meteor, while that silver young man countered: he wielded his sword in his right hand and released impacts followed by white light that was enough to previously take down all of The Bridge Builders Cabal.
As the battle raged on, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp and shift around them, bearing witness to the titanic struggle between two unparalleled forces.
The founder of Rosicrucianism who intimidated reality itself to obey his will and that Gemstone with an unstable personal reality that could change on a whim.
The atmosphere crackled with electrifying distortion.
Sogiita's fists tore through the air with the ferocity of meteors, their velocity enhanced by his ability to adapt and accelerate, surpassing even CRC's speed. As each blow was released, the friction with the surrounding air molecules ignited a scorching heat, intensifying the impact.
The rapid movement of molecules generated an escalating thermal energy, causing the air to seethe with increasing temperature. It was akin to a tempest of incandescent projectiles hurtling towards CRC, their speed surpassing the limits of human perception.
It was like a storm of brilliant fiery arrows was fired at Rosencreutz.
These blazing arrows of force were reminiscent of the elusive strikes employed by the Rose & Cross Leader, ignoring distance with deceptive agility.
With each thunderous punch, that bandana boy sought to overpower his adversary through sheer kinetic force, his unwavering resolve palpable in every motion.
But that wasn't enough for this superhuman.
CRC, wielding his cross sword with precision and skill, deflected each and every one Sogiita's flaming arrows with calculated strikes of his own. Each impact unleashed a burst of blinding white light, sending shockwaves rippling through the chaotic city.
"You think brute strength alone will defeat me?" the silver man taunted, his voice cutting through the chaos of battle. "You may be strong, but strength without strategy is nothing but raw power wasted."
Sogiita grinned, his confidence unshaken. "Strategies for cowards who can't handle a real fight," he retorted, his voice ringing with defiance. "I'll K.O. you with my fists and guts alone!!!!"
Rosencreutz's eyes narrowed as he parried another of Sogiita's punches. "Your arrogance will be your downfall," he warned, his tone tinged with certainty. "I may not match your overall speed, but I have something you lack: intellect and precision.”
Christian Rosencreutz then plunged his cross sword into the ground.
"This is what harmed Kamijou Touma," he declared, grinning and unleashing a torrent of lethal invisible attacks from his outstretched palms.
However, the #7 countered with a relentless barrage of flaming arrows from the thermal aftershock of his punches.
Each strike akin to a particle accelerator in its intensity and speed. That Gemstone was the particles being fired on the right and that True Expert was the particles fired on the left.
As the attacks clashed, the battlefield became a spectacle of raw power and precision.
“Roar!” CRC held his open palm to his mouth and blew gently on the tip of the middle finger.
That was all it took for a blaze easily outdoing a flamethrower to rush out. And this was not just any fire. It fed on the power of a ley line and stole vitality from space itself. This overwhelming mass of light and heat was wielded for no other purpose than to take lives. Anyone who tried to survive it using simple composite armor or special fibers would dry up and burn away in less than a second.
But that wouldn't kill another superhuman would it?
Of course not.
“Aaaaarghhhh!!!!” screamed the #7.
Some assaults bypassed the fray entirely, slipping through the chaos like elusive particles in a collider.
A smokescreen.
Those brilliant fireworks from hell weren't meant to take Sogiita’s life. They were meant to disrupt the Gemstone's senses and sight so he couldn't counter all of that old man’s deadly attacks.
Invisible strikes found their mark on that Gemstone, and the searing arrows of the arrows scorched Rosencreutz.
CRC was wounded but he rejected to make any whimpers. Instead with a sudden burst of velocity, the young silver man picked up his cross sword from the ground and launched a flurry of strikes, cutting at the #7’s body with pinpoint accuracy.
His arms, his head, his face, his stomach, his legs, his midsection, his back.
Each blow landed with devastating force, causing Sogiita to stagger back under the onslaught.
If that bandana boy hadn't had his defenses and general stats raised by the #5 he’d be cut to pieces.
The #7 fell on his back.
"There's a fire," Sogiita declared, his voice ringing out amidst the chaos of battle.
With each attempt to break his spirit, Sogiita's resolve only grew stronger, fueling the flames of his determination. "Every time someone tries to make me give up, it's like wind feeding my flames, making them burn even brighter just like my punches," he explained, his words carrying the weight of his unwavering determination.
He refused to stay down.
With a roar of defiance, Sogiita surged forward once more, his movements blurring with speed as he disappeared from view. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Christian Rosencreutz, catching the magician off guard.
"Hey, old man," Sogiita taunted, his voice filled with confidence as he seized Rosencreutz from behind.
Christian Rosencreutz's eyes widened in surprise as he realized he had been outmaneuvered.
As Sogiita Gunha faced off against Christian Rosencreutz in their airborne duel, he felt the flames of determination burning within him, driving him forward with unstoppable force.
Before he could react, the boy lifted him effortlessly and slammed him onto the pavement below with a resounding thud.
"I'm not just a kick-boxer!!" Sogiita sang.
As the impact reverberated through the air, the young silver man let out a pained cry. The force of the collision compressed the surrounding air, heating it up until it crackled with energy. Christian Rosencreutz's head struck the ground with a velocity equivalent to mach 20, igniting his body in flames upon impact.
This move is called a suplex.
Struggling to regain his bearings, Rosencreutz muttered in a daze, "The House of the Holy Spirit...the seven walls..."
"You said it yourself, didn't you?" the gutsy boy retorted, cocky. "My power and my guts can break through your impenetrable walls. And I can spread those same guts to the world around me."
With a grimace, Christian Rosencreutz acknowledged the truth of the boy's words. "Your uncontrolled AIM field grants you the ability to imbue non-organic objects with the properties of your virus," he observed, his voice tinged with begrudging admiration. "Allowing them to bypass even the defenses of the seven-walled tomb.”
"A virus? Don't be so gutless, CRC," the #7 retorted, his voice filled with defiance. "This battleground ruled by wills is a two-way road between you and me."
Christian Rosencreutz raised an eyebrow at the boy's words. "Hey Gemstone, you could've killed me if I weren't a superhuman with an idealized body that accomplished The Great Work and crossed the Ungrund, what then short-stack?" he questioned while fitting an insult against his height.
Even without the seven-walled tomb or sheets of diamonds Rosencreutz was cartoonishly durable.
"Sorry, old man," Sogiita replied, his tone tinged with annoyance. "I might've gotten carried away, but I know it'll take more than that to kill you. No matter how many heads you regrow, like Hydra, I will not give up until I've completed all my labors."
"Mhm, so you do know your mythology," CRC remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The Lernaean Hydra, or simply Hydra, is a serpentine lake monster in Greek and Roman mythology. Its lair was the lake of Lerna in the Argolid, known as an entrance to the Underworld. In the canonical myth, the monster is slain by Heracles as part of his Twelve Labors."
"Yeah, I know," Sogiita replied confidently. "I studied the tales of great gutsy heroes in school.”
"So, short-stack," Christian Rosencreutz began, his voice carrying a hint of scholarly interest. “Have you ever considered the parallels between our battle and ancient Near Eastern religions?”
Sogiita listened intently. "Are you saying you see yourself as a god of war or a hunter?" he inquired.
CRC chuckled softly. "In a sense, indeed. We are both assuming roles in this grand theater, are we not? I, the Hydra, and you, Heracles."
He continued, "Consider the Second Labor of Heracles. Eurystheus, the king of Tiryns, sent Heracles to slay the Hydra, which Hera had raised specifically to defeat him. Heracles approached the swamp near Lake Lerna, where the Hydra dwelled. To protect himself from the poisonous fumes, he covered his mouth and nose with a cloth and shot flaming arrows into the Hydra's lair, causing it to emerge and terrorize the surrounding villages."
CRC paused, drawing a comparison. “In our own clash, the flaming arrows that Heracles hurled at the Hydra find their echo in your lightning-fast fists, generating shockwaves that ignite the air with their speed and force. It's as though each strike of yours is akin to shooting a flaming arrow, much like Heracles did.”
“Huh? Are you suggesting we're caught in a time loop? That some enigmatic group, like the Bridge Builders Cabal, manipulated events to resurrect you, pitting us against each other in a timeless struggle? I've never met them, and I'm certainly no child of Zeus. Are you implying that our battle will be distorted into a Greek legend by a meddling time traveler?!” frantically asked the boy.
“No, no, you simpleton. This world contains synchronicities. In Sumerian, Babylonian, and Assyrian mythology, the war and hunting god Ninurta was celebrated for his deeds. The Angim credited him with slaying eleven monsters during an expedition to the mountains, including a seven-headed serpent, possibly identical to the Mushmahhu, and Bashmu, whose constellation was later associated with the Hydra by the Greeks. In Babylonian contexts, the Hydra's constellation is also linked to Marduk's dragon, the Mushhushshu.”
“Uhhh….” That shounen boy was dumbfounded.
"Hhm, I suppose calling it a time loop isn't technically wrong," Christian Rosencreutz began, his tone measured. "I'll break it down from history class and reconstruct it through the lens of the occult. Historic recurrence, young Gemstone, is the phenomenon of events echoing throughout time. Whether it's the rise and fall of empires or the repetitive cycles within a single society, it's all part of this grand plan that was decided when Adam ate the forbidden fruit."
The #7 with his guard up but curious listened: "So, history just keeps repeating itself? Just a series of coincidences?"
Christian Rosencreutz shook his head sagely. "There is no such thing as coincidences. Take, for instance, the Doctrine of Eternal Recurrence, pondered upon by thinkers like Heinrich Heine and Friedrich Nietzsche. While it's said that 'history repeats itself,' it's not quite that simple. Rather, these recurrences stem from identifiable circumstances and chains of causality."
He continued, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of philosophical debate. "Consider the phenomenon of multiple independent discoveries in science or the reproducible findings in natural and social sciences. These recurrences, whether in the form of rigorous experimentation or comparative research, are vital to our understanding of the world."
Christian Rosencreutz paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "G.W. Trompf, in his seminal work, The Idea of Historical Recurrence in Western Thought, illustrates the recurring patterns of political thought and behavior since ancient times. Through these patterns, history offers us invaluable lessons, often leading to a sense of resonance or déjà vu."
Their words reverberated like a challenge to destiny itself, a testament to their unyielding determination in the face of adversity.
That Gemstone didn't surrender his characteristic fervor. "History echoing through time, huh? It's like the universe itself is stuck on repeat, and we're just caught in the cycle. But you know what? If history's gonna keep looping, then let's break the pattern! Let's smash through those chains of causality and forge our own path. Who cares about déjà vu? We'll create something entirely new, something that'll shake the very foundations of this world and we’ll do it with guts!!!" He defied that silver monster.
But Rosencreutz wasn't finished. He pulled out his Crystal World Map.
The supposedly old man listened intently to that boy's impassioned response, his expression inscrutable behind his clairvoyant card. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke.
“Gemstone, you speak of breaking free from the chains of repetition, of forging a new destiny against the backdrop of eternal return. It is a noble aspiration, indeed. However, consider this: eternal return is not merely a philosophical concept or a whimsical notion of fate. It is the very fabric of existence, woven into the nature of time itself.” He pressed his finger on the Miniature Garden and a 3D holographic projection flew out—
“In ancient times, the Stoics grappled with the idea, seeing in it both a sense of cosmic order and a challenge to individual agency. Augustine and others recoiled from its implications, fearing it as a negation of free will and salvation. And yet, Nietzsche, in his brilliance, dared to confront the concept anew, exploring its depths in the crucible of human consciousness.”
Didn't Aleister Crowley say that he had to shatter every single phase in order to eliminate the concept of fate?
“I will shatter every last phase and put an end to all mysticism. It can be helped and we need not restrain our tears and bite our lip when faced with tragedy. I will bring back the pure world in which everyone can feel anger like normal and question it all like normal!!”
And didn't Coronzon appear to break down all the phases including the Pure World?
Partial destruction would be meaningless. If anything remains and an eternal distortion is born from that, then it will all happen again. I will eliminate the ten spheres, the twenty-two pathways, and the hidden eleventh symbol. Collisions between phases? Sparks and spray? You cannot save anyone if you only treat those symptoms. All of the fundamental clogs must be removed. All so we can pass the baton to whoever comes next.”
“Sparks and Sprays…” Rosencreutz muttered.
“Eh?” The #7 didn't quite hear him.
"Beside time stands fate, cruelty's steadfast herald. In the silent chambers of the soul, whispers the most profound wisdom. Humanity, in its folly, neglected to exalt life's splendor, its radiance, its grandeur. Truly, it is a rare gift to comprehend the forces that shape our existence.” That magician spoke in despair.
“From the moment man ate the fruit of knowledge, he guaranteed your species’ failure... Entrusting his future to the whims of fate, man clutches to a flickering hope. Yet, within the Miniature Garden lies the key to all revelation. Beyond the well-trodden path lies the ultimate terminus. It matters not who you are; Death is the sole certainty awaiting all.” he finished with scorn.
Shokuhou Misaki was currently linked to Sogiita Gunha so was overhearing the entire conversation.
“Are you okay, Leader?” asked Kamijou back at the hospital.
“Yeah…” she responded.
“Really?” Mikoto breathed a white sigh. “It wasn’t the shock of seeing their school destroyed. Nor was it the fear of having those rioters attack. …They’re afraid of their own power. And after learning how exactly to use that power to survive, they’re not sure they can just switch it off and return to their normal lives. So their gears have ground to a halt.” Tokiwadai Middle School was a prestigious esper development school.
The young ladies registered there were Level 3 at the lowest and Level 5 at the highest.
Almost all of the students had a power that surpassed that of a blade or handgun if used properly, but something had become twisted.
Yes.
“A lot of them weren’t really sure why they were training their powers.”
Shokuhou breathed a white breath, wrapped her own arms around herself, and rubbed her thighs together.
Why are you studying?
How many people could give a proper answer to that question? Because my parents told me to, because my teachers taught me to, because that’s how the world works. Those would be most people’s answers. Even the students with a clear vision of their future would only have something vague like “for the entrance exams” or “for my future”.
Only a small handful would have specific puzzle pieces in mind, such as “I need to learn how to use this equation so I can build a rocket”.
The young ladies of Tokiwadai Middle School were the same.
What if the very gears that humans have…their actions, reactions, inactions were all the result of some transcendental entity hovering above.
Like God or The Devil watching over humanity’s reality sphere and ordering around his system like everyone was a pre-programmed NPC that had specific events occur to them to get them to develop in the way that they did and determined their genetic bloodline that composed their psyche?
Is there truly a free will?
It was said that in order for you to break out of the system of society that the working class was stuck in you had to climb to the top where the corrupt elites resided.
Imagine Breaker negated sparks, Aleister Crowley could see through the veil thanks to Holy Guardian Angel Aiwass, Great Demon Coronzon could always see the cogs.
Christian Rosencreutz could view the entire world through his Miniature Garden.
The rest of humanity was at the mercy of their own destinies.
A Guardian Angel wouldn't arrive to save a parent’s child from fate every single time.
"Okay, nice poetry, can we get back to fighting already?" asked the #7 impatiently.
"Seems I got carried away," the old man conceded with a nod. "The synchronicities of this world, akin to the astral configurations in astrology, serve as an example of synchronicity, according to Jung. It describes circumstances that appear meaningfully related yet lack a causal connection, much like the parallel relationship between celestial and terrestrial phenomena. Synchronicity experiences entail subjective encounters where coincidences between events in one's mind and the external world may lack a clear causal link but still harbor an unknown connection.”
"Ah," Sogiita chimed in, recalling his philosophy class discussions. "We talked about synchronicity back then. Jung thought it was a good thing for the mind, but said it could get dicey in psychosis. He cooked up this theory as a kind of mental link between those meaningful coincidences, calling it a noncausal principle. This term came about in the late 1920s, and then he teamed up with physicist Wolfgang Pauli to dive deeper. Their work, The Interpretation of Nature and the Psyche, dropped in 1952. They were big on this idea that these connections, even the ones that don't seem to have a cause, could still teach us a lot about how our minds and the world work."
“Mhm, you know more than you lead on, Gemstone.” pondered CRC.
“Oh this? My teachers say I'm not good at remembering speeches hahaha…” The #7 looked slightly nervous. “You know, analytical psychologists really push for folks to get what these experiences mean to boost their awareness instead of just feeding into superstitions. But funny thing is, when clients spill about their synchronicity experiences, they often feel like no one's really hearing them out, or getting where they're coming from. And hey, having a bunch of these meaningful coincidences flying around can sometimes ring the schizo bell. Delusions aren't healthy.”
Where was this conversation going?
"Delusion! Hah! That's a good one coming from you," CRC fired back.
"The real delusion is thinking humanity isn't worth a damn," Sogiita shot back, pulling out some info from Johansen and Osman. "Some scientists think coincidences are just random flukes, but counselors and psychoanalysts reckon there's more to it, like some deep-down stuff needing to come out.”
"Delusion! Hah! That's a good one coming from you," CRC fired back.
"The real delusion is thinking humanity isn't worth a darn," Sogiita shot back, pulling out some info from Johansen and Osman. "Some scientists think coincidences are just random flukes, but counselors and psychoanalysts reckon there's more to it, like some deep-down stuff needing to come out. Unconscious material to be expressed."
Rosencreutz interjected, his expression reflecting a mix of confusion and concern. "Aleister Crowley's actions have left a lasting scar on this world and this city," he began, his voice weighted with solemnity. “The vacuum-like dichotomy between magic and science created by the use of that colossal psychotronic weapon, has damaged this world's memory irreparably.”
Psychotronic weapon?
The Archetype Controller?
He paused, his gaze piercing as he continued, "Jung's exploration of synchronicity as evidence of the paranormal paved the way for further inquiry, notably by Koestler and the subsequent embrace of these ideas by the New Age movement.”
Sogiita shrugged, "Some folks say synchronicity is impossible to test or prove, so it gets labeled as pseudoscience. Jung even acknowledged that these synchronicity events are basically just coincidences, statistically speaking. But hey, who's to say what's really going on without some solid scientific studies, right?"
"Dubious as his experiments may have been," CRC interrupted, "Jung believed in a connection between synchronicity and the paranormal, drawing parallels to the uncertainty principle and works by parapsychologist Joseph B. Rhine.” CRC posed a thought-provoking question, "How are we to recognize acausal combinations of events, since it is obviously impossible to examine all chance happenings for their causality? The answer lies in the fact that acausal events are most readily expected where a causal connection appears inconceivable upon closer reflection. It's impossible, with our current resources, to explain ESP or meaningful coincidences as mere phenomena of energy. This challenges the very notion of cause and effect, as these events occur simultaneously rather than in a linear cause-and-effect manner. Hence, I have coined the term 'synchronicity' to describe this phenomenon, placing it on equal footing with causality as a principle of explanation."
Getting closer to that Gemstone, CRC emphasized, "Esper abilities cannot be fully understood with science alone. They defy traditional cause-and-effect explanations, instead representing a convergence of factors that create a quantum phenomenon affecting both the micro and macro. Why were there the naturally gifted and the naturally ungifted?”
Why did some students get praised for their abilities while others needed to work harder?
Others among them would have worked every hour of their free time and not progressed anywhere in this city’s leveling curriculum.
Why did this city present such an unfair and unpredictable status quo of potential?
Why did hard work barely matter in a city of empirical evidence to record any possible progress?
Sogiita Gunha wasn't a normal Level 5 but he wasn't always this powerful. He went through the curriculum same as everyone but if the outside conditions for his Gemstone ability to manifest didn't form in the exact way that it did, in such an acausal form then would he even be here to challenge Christian Rosencreutz right now?
Everything just happened to fall right into place.
All those puzzle pieces that would lead to this moment here and now.
Was it all just talent? God picking a fool as his champion?
The #7 leaned back, absorbing CRC's words with a thoughtful expression. "So, what you're saying is, there's this whole other layer to reality that we can't quite wrap our heads around," he summarized, nodding slowly. "I mean, it's like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands—slippery and elusive."
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Historic recurrence, synchronicities, all these things—they're like pieces of a puzzle scattered across this substantial reality. And sometimes, they just... click into place, right? It's like the universe has its own plan, and we're just along for the ride."
That bandana wearing boy's gaze drifted, lost in thought. "You know, CRC, it's funny," he remarked, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Here we are, with all our powers and potential, but at the end of the day, we're still grappling with the same questions as everyone else. Talent, destiny, divine intervention—maybe they're all just different sides of the same coin."
He shrugged, the weight of the philosophical musings settling over the broken city. "Who knows? Maybe God does have a sense of humor, after all.” that boy chuckled.
There was a deep silence between them.
Rosencreutz’ response was swift and resolute, his tone filled with certainty. "All this ‘universe has a plan’ banter is just a distraction from the inevitable," he declared, his eyes narrowing. "We can debate the nature of us being all-powerful yet struggling with mortal issues until the sun burns out, but it won't change the fact that our fate was sealed upon the knowledge Adam learned."
“To think so many trivialities have developed while this old man wasn’t watching. Heh heh. Then I should assume the thread of fate has again begun to weave its strange connections between myself and some unknown human.”
He rose forward, his movements purposeful. "It's time to put an end to this dance of platitudes," CRC continued, his voice cold and unwavering. "We'll settle this the only way that somewhat matters—through objective action in this grand play."
“Silence, preserved doll. Illusionists are meant to remain silent. That is all we magicians are: wielders of substanceless illusions. Opening your mouth serves only to break the illusion.”
With a flicker of resolve in his eyes, he locked gazes with the #7. "I am Hydra, Gemstone," he said, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "Our battle ends now.” CRC opened both his palms and began shooting at their surroundings, the buildings, the pavement, the apartments, the rubble.
It probably wasn't random as it seemed to create a pattern.
“Huh are you getting senile old man?” asked the young Gemstone.
“What fun. I never imagined someone would bother diligently polishing their skills this far while knowing it is all essentially an illusion. Didn’t you ever feel silly going to the effort?”
Rosencreutz dropped to all fours, his rosy cross sword gripped tightly in his right hand.
He moved—
“Arrgh!” Sogiita yelled amidst the relentless and precise and precise strikes from that golden cross. “Old man?” he asked.
That magician didn't say anything.
That silver man’s movements became more beastly.
Faster.
Stronger.
Fiercer.
Something new was beginning to manifest.
With each strike of his higher dimensional blade that old man’s blows seemed infused with an otherworldly energy.
The wounds inflicted by his weapon burned with a venomous intensity, sending searing pain coursing through Sogiita's body.
That boy grimaced as the poison from that silver man’s strikes surged through his being, each wound feeling like it was ablaze with venomous fire.
"Damn... That burns…like a killer hornet’s sting," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice strained with effort. Gritting, he fought to maintain his focus, despite the agony threatening to overwhelm him.
Was this another application of The Four Stages? Citrinitas? No, there was nothing yellow here, it was more like a dirty purple.
But it wasn't just the physical damage that posed a threat.
As the Rosy Cross leader leaped on all fours his movements took on an almost erratic quality, he was bouncing from one building to another with an animalistic agility.
With each jump, a shockwave rippled through the air, carrying with it a palpable sense of dread.
Something was spreading.
The air around them seemed to thicken with a toxic miasma. The #7 struggled to breathe, the noxious fumes clouding his senses.
Like a chaotic monster’s venomous poison breath.
The once-clear air now felt thick and suffocating.
Gasping for breath, the bandana boy struggled to maintain his focus amidst the swirling chaos.
His vision blurred, his movements sluggish as he fought against the oppressive atmosphere.
Blinded that heroic boy could only fire a flame arrow without his sight.
His fists striking out with all the strength he could muster. Igniting in that poisonous compressed air.
It seemed to be flammable like a dragon’s breath.
???
At the hospital, Shokuhou's voice carried a mix of surprise and relief. “He caused real damage.” she exclaimed.
Kamijou turned his attention to her, intrigued. “What happened?”
“It's hard to see clearly, but it looks like the #7 managed to rip off CRC's left arm,” she explained. “Though, I'd say it was more of a lucky shot. I can read he acted on pure instinct.”
Kamijou nodded, a hint of melancholy in his tone. “Yeah... the psychic link and all.”
Had the #7 Level 5 given up on the old man?
Back on the battlefield, Sogiita cursed under his breath. “Dammit... Sorry, old man,” he muttered. “I was aiming to hit your whole body to maximize the surface area, maybe break a few bones as a casualty. We can probably get your arm reattached at the hospital. Heaven Canceller has enough guts to even fix me.”
It was clear—he hadn't given up.
It was an accidental strike of his arm.
“As each ghastly head was severed from its serpentine form, dreadfully, two more writhed forth from the abyss.” a cryptic voice amidst the chaos spoke.
Wasn't it said that the Hydra’s lair was the lake of Lerna in the Argolid.
Lerna was reputed to be an entrance to the Underworld.
The abyss.
The Ungrund.
There is no limit to the depth of the Alcyonian Lake, and I know of nobody who by any contrivance has been able to reach the bottom of it since not even Nero, who had ropes made several stades long and fastened them together, tying lead to them, and omitting nothing that might help his experiment, was able to discover any limit to its depth. This, too, I heard. The water of the lake is, to all appearance, calm and quiet but, although it is such to look at, every swimmer who ventures to cross it is dragged down, sucked into the depths, and swept away.
The keeper of the gate to the Underworld that lay in the waters of Lerna was the Hydra.
The serpentine Lake Monster.
“Rosencreutz……?” The #7 muttered.
That magician chuckled ominously. "Indeed, young Heracles," he intoned, his voice echoing with a bizarre resonance. “The Lernaean Hydra's curse is upon you now.” as he said that he ripped off a bit of his arm that was cuterarised and it began bleeding.
Anna Sprengel’s blood was said to create unknown miracles when spilled.
Christian Rosencreutz’ blood was so virulent that even its scent was deadly.
As Sogiita Gunha glanced at his severed arm lying on the ground, a creeping sense of horror enveloped him. "All fate is a curse and that curse," he murmured, his words barely audible over the din of battle, "extends even to my severed limb.”
Christian Rosencreutz’ left arm grew back.
No.
Two new arms grew in its place.
The arm was fully functioning with no defects.
Although one of the arms appeared somewhat scaly and lanky like a serpent.
It had human anatomy but something was abnormal here.
He almost looked like a spider as he emerged from the poisonous fog as he remained on all fours.
“So short-stack. Are you ready to complete your final labor: Crossing the abyss!!!” He challenged that boy with his cross sword facing him.
"Boss, what's up? You look kinda stuck," Kamijou asked, his tone concerned.
Two students were sitting together in the waiting room at a hospital.
"—abyss, Hydra, curse, synchronicities, Historic recurrence." she replied, her words carrying a weight of unease.
"Huh? What? Can you give me the lowdown?" Kamijou prodded, his urgency evident.
"Can't quite wrap my head around it. But what I can tell you is that after CRC started talking about these esoteric concepts, he leveled up his power ability, managed to seriously hurt the #7 despite me cranking up all his stats for the win condition," the honey-blonde girl explained, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Can you beam all that stuff into my head, like a memory download? You're a psychological esper, right? My right hand won't mess with it, and we've done the telepathy thing before," Kamijou suggested.
"Memory download's not quite it, but I can send you a recording," she clarified.
"Got it," Kamijou muttered as he absorbed the info.
"You got any ideas to help the #7’s situation ability, Kamijou-san? We're kinda desperate here," she asked.
"I wish Index was still here, dammit.” he lamented, “But you know about magic, right?" he queried.
"Yeah, people converting their delusions into reality right?," she admitted.
"Well, magic's not just about delusions; it can be tied up to the whole world. Not sure if it's relevant, but based on Idol Theory, Rosencreutz might be pulling in 'energy’ from the Greek 'phase’ of Heracles for an edge," Kamijou theorized.
"Like a chessboard flip?" Shokuhou Misaki inquired, her brow furrowed with concern.
"No, more like... imagine you're playing checkers with a buddy, and you're totally crushing it because you're a checkers pro. Then suddenly, your buddy switches it up and challenges you to an arm wrestling match, and you lose because, well, arm wrestling isn't your forte," Kamijou Touma explained, trying to paint a vivid picture.
"So, by taking on the role of the Hydra from Greek myth, he's essentially forcing the #7 into the role of Heracles? But didn't Heracles defeat the Hydra?" Shokuhou sought clarification.
"Yeah, but..." Kamijou recalled the tale from the movies he'd seen. "Lichas gave Heracles a shirt soaked in the Hydra's poisonous blood from his arrows, which ends up killing him by tearing his flesh down to the bone," he elaborated.
"It was actually Nessus seeking vengeance and tricking Deianira into giving it to Heracles as a gift, delivered by Lichas without disclosing the tunic's lethal bloodstained secret from the Lernaean Hydra, but you're right," Shokuhou corrected gently. "So, Rosencreutz is harnessing the power of that legend to slowly poison the #7?"
"Not literal. I mean the poison is real but his slashes do significant harm now so it's more like shifting the paradigm in his favor…shifting his position.” The spiky-haired boy wasn't in the mood to explain Phases, “Earlier, he mentioned Sogiita spreading his 'virus' throughout the world. A virus isn't a poison in the traditional sense, but the Rosicrucians originally sought to create a universal cure for all illnesses. Now, CRC is spreading a literal poison, positioning himself as the ultimate predator and his opponents as prey rather than his savior role, the paradigm has been shifted." Kamijou concluded, his voice tinged with gravity.
“So he’s changed the environment to get the win condition? The #7’s durability doesn't matter in the face of the world being forced to go about a certain way because of Rosencreutz stage play?” The girl asked.
“Yeah…if things keep going this way…Sogiita will….goddamnit….” The spiky haired boy swore. “I can't let someone else die after all that's happened but I feel like if I go out there I really will kill him…” he muttered that last bit while clenching his right fist that began shaking uncontrollably.
The girl’s eyes seemed confused. “What did you say?” The honey blonde middle schooler asked.
“Nothing, just mumbling to myself.” he spat out.
That boy and girl could never come to the right conclusion on their own without the aid of former Magic God Othinus by their side.
“Did you think I had challenged you with no hope of succeeding, you cesspool? The magic born on earth is bound by the directions based on the earth’s magnetic field and by the density and composition of the air which is determined by air pressure which is in turn influenced by gravity. That is inevitable when you are focused on the cardinal directions of north, south, east, and west or on the basic elements of fire, water, wind, and earth. But what you will find upon leaving the atmosphere is an unknown. Coronzon, are you sure there will be no malfunction in the magic giving you control of Avatar Lola? And before, my power was bound by the puny speck named earth which failed to become a black hole or even a sun, but once we enter outer space, just how far do you think that power will be released? I do not mind at all that I will lose the support of Academy City.”
Well the boy was half right.
“Let us test it out, you cuspidor. On one side, we have you using the planet and bound to an avatar. On the other, we have me exposed and freed from the planet. Now, who will be the star of this show?”
Christian Rosencreutz did not shoot at his surroundings for no reason.
The battlefield transformed into Rosencreutz's canvas, resembling the legendary battleground of Lerna where Heracles once clashed with the Hydra.
Yes.
He didn't unleash his powers randomly; every action was deliberate.
In the magical side of Idol Theory, mimicking an object, event, or person allowed one to tap into a fraction of its power.
And that even applied to locations that essentially worked as stage plays.
Idol Theory was so absolute that even the basic cross held a portion of the son of God’s power.
As Above, So Below.
As Below, So Above.
Macro to micro.
Micro to macro.
And the macrocosm and the microcosm are always linked.

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
Caution swearing!
Also, god I love you Conn… please never change!
Previous First [Next](link)
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
"Both of you get your suits back on."
"What the hell is going on!?”
Richards demanded, Adam took a deep breath,
"Captain Richards that was not an opening for a discussion, that was an order. Now put the damn suit on, or I swear I will knock you out and do it myself!”
The three of them were floating in the module staring at each other, hands resting against what must have been no more than a few millimeters of aluminum.
He stared at them, and they stared back.
Adam did not break eye contact with the two, willing them to do as they were told. Chavez was the first to move, hurrying over to her space suit and struggling to pull it on in a near panic as bright lights flashed from outside. Inside his heart was pounding but he tried to remain calm for the two standing before him.
He hurried over to help Chavez pull on her gear, finally sealing the helmet in place as Richards finally moved to do the same.
Adam helped pull the hard torso over the man's head and link it to the waist before helping him pull on his gloves and, eventually the helmet. Before he let go, he kept hold of Richards by either side of the helmet staring at him through the glass,
"I promise, if you listen to me, I will keep you safe."
He kept eye contact with the other man until Richards finally nodded, and Adam let him go to float over and put on his own suit. His hands were steady, for now, but he knew as soon as the crisis was over he'd be shaking like a leaf.
If he survived…
He gritted his teeth, cursing himself for thinking like that.
He was Admiral Vir for crying out loud. He had survived far too much to go and die now.
He returned to the helm of the command module as he looked out the thick window at the lights flashing on either side of them. Despite the war that was raging around them, everything seemed so strangely quiet. There was no sound no rumbling, not even a vibration as one of the jets flew past. Despite being at the controls of the vehicle, there was nothing he could do. They only had a certain amount of fuel to get them to the lunar surface, and if he wasted any of it at all, they would be either caught in orbit, or miss the moon entirely.
He had to keep his cool.
Another bright burst of light lit the window to his right. This one was closer this time.
His heart leaped up into his throat.
Richards and Chaves joined him buckling into their seats.
"What is going on?”
Richards demanded again, his mike distant and tinny with the sound of very old technology.
"I believe Anti-Alliance forces are attempting to assassinate me. They have been trying for months now, and I think they are being encouraged by very powerful members of the government."
They watched as another set of ships zoomed past.
He saw a flash of a silhouette, just enough to know that one of them was a Thunderhawk and the other was a silver Rundi drone.
It confirmed his worst fears. The Chairwoman had been behind this the whole time!
[…]
Red nearly collided with the rocket. The Thunderhawk had pulled up the last minute, but he had almost been too late. He jerked the stick to the side, throwing up his wing just in time to avoid hitting the rocket as it made its slow way through space. He dove down on the other side forced to break off pursuit and cut in front of another Thunderhawk coming in from above. He made to look like he was going to ram them, playing a dangerous game of chicken, which he won at the last second as the other pilot panicked and cut to the left.
There were too many of them. Only five out of the original twenty had been destroyed, and he and the rest of their pilots were busy just keeping the thunder hawks away from the rocket, much less to have any time of firing at them. He had sent one of his people down to earth and one of them off towards the moon for backup. The moon was still hours away yet, so the hope that some help would be sent from them was unlikely, and even the woman he had sent down to earth's surface was cutting it close.
He didn't have much hopes that they would be able to hold out that long.
Inside the cockpit his warning lights began to blink and blair as one of the other jets got a lock on him. He rolled right to avoid them and dove down, cutting off the lock but still being pursued by those behind him. Up ahead he saw one of the silver balls erupt into flames as it was targeted by an expert hit from one of the Thunderhawk pilots.
He rolled right.
Someone else rolled left. He cut up just in time to avoid being hit and raced forward to cut off another Thunderbird that was heading directly towards the rocket.
[…]
Eris hurried down the hallway, her knees screaming as she did her very best to sprint, but despite her human anatomy, she was a little too much like a starborn.
With a cry of frustration she reached up and tore off her hoodie, throwing it to the ground and engaging her anti-gravity belt. The ribbons on her back billowed out behind her.
Light spilled in from the windows on either side of the catwalk she was now on, filling her with a buzzing energy that she could feel radiating through the ribbons like electricity. She knew from her study of starborn that they could travel at thousands of miles an hour in the vacuum of space, especially when under the power of a star. She didn't think she needed to go THAT fast, but anything would be better than what she was doing now.
As if in response to her will, she suddenly began to glide forward, picking up speed as she swooped towards the end of the hall, wind catching her in the face and roaring along her cheeks. With her starborn skin, she barely felt a thing as she raced around the corner and out of the waiting door. Two men dressed in military ACUs dived to the side as she blew past them crying out in alarm and confusion as the "Alien" floated by.
Somewhere distantly, she could sense Conn racing in the opposite direction towards the base.
Sunny and Admiral Kelly had Admiral Massie in their custody and were dragging him out into the hallway.
She blew across the open ground her ribbons snapping and billowing behind her as she did. She didn't even have time to imagine what she looked like as she roared over the open field and towards the waiting news vans which were just beginning to pack up their things. They were close to leaving, but she set out a sharp hard telepathic pulse ordering them to stop.
Compelling them to stop.
They froze in their tracks and looked up to see her coming.
Someone scrambled to turn on their camera, not sure what was going on but sure it had to be something good.
She tried not to think about what they would see as the camera flared to life following her approach.
"Make us live."
She ordered,
The news people glanced between each other in confusion,
"But no… we aren’t-"
"What are-"
She came to a sudden jolting stop before them, her billowing black hair fanning out behind her like a curling halo.
"I said, put us on air."
This time the telepathic pulse was too strong to resist. Mostly that, paired with the fact that none of them were sure they really wanted to resist. She was way too interesting to pass up.
They hurried to do what they were doing, and Eris was given just enough time to feel nervous before the camera was turned to her.
They were live.
She read it in the minds of those behind camera who she cut off as she began to speak,
"Citizens of Earth, there has been a horrible conspiracy against you. The UN president has ordered the assassination of Admiral Adam Vir and has continually attempted to sabotage the mission. Just now General Massie was taken into custody after ordering the deployment of twenty Thunderhawk’s to harass the rocket and make its destruction look like some sort of collision with space debris."
The group gawked at her as she raised her hand with the small silver device and began playing the recording.
She knew something like this would never be admissible in court. She was pretty sure it would be considered entrapment of some kind, which is why it must be heard now, before everyone, so that the actions of the president could be judged by a jury of the world where it could not be hidden by political machinations.
"Communications have been lost with Apollo 11. And it is... Well... It is likely that he is already dead..."
Her voice broke,
"No matter what happens, I need you, and this nation to understand what is happening before it gets swept under the rug. I saw it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears and experienced their meeting in the thoughts of a man who is both xenophobic and hateful to his own humankind."
She kept talking trying to give them all the information she could, spilling thoughts she had heard in the head of the UN president and General Massie alike. Every meeting, every liaison, every name until her voice was beginning to crack.
[…]
The UN president was just standing to enter her vehicle when a slow muttering began in the crowd behind her. She turned as the ground before her went silent.
She watched as a wave ran through the people. A wave of nudging and whispering and showing off news feeds they had pulled up on their wrist implants. It wasn't long before the entire crowd was either staring down at their arms or clustered around someone else for viewing.
"What is going on?”
She wondered, turning to one of her men who was staring down at her own wrist.
"Madame president?"
He said with a look of confusion.
She could hear it now.
"Her and General Massie have ordered members of the UNSC to adjust funds in order to hide the twenty Thunderhawk’s they were squirting away for just such an event."
She hurried forward, grabbing the secret serviceman by the arm, staring at it as she watched the streaming newsfeed and the freaky white alien with the large dark eyes and flowing black hair.
"She is afraid of aliens, she wishes to isolate and eventually use humanity's superior forces to overtake trade in the galaxy, forceful if need be."
The muttering behind her had turned into an angry grumbling, and she turned to see the eyes of hundreds that turned towards her.
"Get me out of here."
She hissed. the Secret Serviceman took a step back with a look of confusion and indecision on his face.
"It's your job."
She snarled, but he just stared at her.
She hurriedly ran over to her car as the crowd began to filter in around them pressing close. A few of the secret service men pulled guns, but a large majority of them were frozen with indecision and were taken over by the crowd. She scrambled into the back seat of her vehicle and slammed the door shut screaming at the driver to get moving.
The crowd was surrounding them now, pounding at the glass.
She could hear their angry voices raised for her to be heard behind bullet proof glass.
Outside, she watched a lone figure step onto the platform where the lectern was and stare at her with its beady black eyes. The Chairwoman of the GA stood over the crowd like it's filthy alien lord.
And even though Rundi could not smile, she could swear it was smiling.
[…]
Baby K hit a rough patch of turbulence coming down from the atmosphere. She struggled with the controls as she was thrown left and right inside the cockpit of her rickety shuttle.
Donovan Red had ordered her down here to grab the UNSC, but she was so scared and full of adrenaline that she had dropped it at too steep an angle. The ride was much bumpier than it was supposed to be, and her teeth were rattling inside her head.
Just then two Jets suddenly cut in behind her out of nowhere, and she heard her console beep and warn her about a lock on, making it clear that she was just one click of a trigger away from imminent doom.
"This is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have crossed into restricted UNSC airspace, identify yourself or be destroyed! You have ten seconds to comply, over."
She scrambled for her communications, but her fingers felt as stiff as wood as she scrambled for the button.
"I repeat, this is Eagle Dispatch One, unidentified vessel, you have entered restricted UNSC airspace, you are ordered to identify yourself or be destroyed. Five seconds remaining. Over."
She slammed her first into the comms button nearly panicking,
"UNSC!"
Her voice was rattling,
"This is B-baby K, and I... The Apollo 11 is under attack!"
She was breathless as she forced the words out.
There was silence over the coms,
"Say again? Uhm I mean please repeat over.”
"Apollo 11 is under attack!"
”…”
”…”
More silence,
”Roger that. Please stand by. Over."
The lock lifted and the two jets pulled up to the side of her, staying close now.
She recognized those jets as two F-90 Darkfires.
They stayed by her side for a moment, and as close as they were she could see one of the pilots fidgeting with the coms, talking and wildly gesticulating, while his copilot was beginning to wildly flip switches.
Meanwhile, a second voice came in over the coms.
"On your left! Eagle Dispatch Two here, unidentified vessel, please land on UNSC base airstrip one. Just contact the control tower once you get close for guidance and instruction."
Baby K looked over into the other jet, just to see the pilot adjusting his helmet and clicking an oxygen tube to the front of his helmet. His co-pilot had already put the additional oxygen mask on and was also flipping switches.
”Uhm aren’t you going to escort me?”
Baby K managed to blurt out in confusion,
”Godspeed Baby K, Eagle Dispatch Two over and out.”
Both men in the jet to her left had apparently finished their preparations and gave her a quick salute.
Then suddenly, both jets adjusted their angle and cut engines, before switching to their big fusion engines, rocketing them up and out of sight within seconds.
[…]
So far it had been a relatively quiet day at the Ellington Field Joint Reserve Base. Most of the air traffic had been canceled due to the launch of the Apollo mission, so there was not much to do, leaving much of the Airport less staffed than normal.
In the Air Traffic Control tower of the base, only two men were working. Though “working” was stretching it, considering Senior Controller M. Fredrick was currently in the middle of his book (though he was at least in front of his station) and his comrade Senior ATC Instructor A. Millard was currently sitting in a corner, watching a movie on his implant.
”So what are you watching? One of those old Star Wars movies?”
”You bet! Those are the best! By the way any info on that “lost civilian” who got into our airspace?”
”No not yet, though I sent Eagle Dispatch and told them to be extra unfriendly, that will scare these civilians off for sure!”
”Pffft, why couldn’t they watch the start like any other person? There is always some dumb rich kid doing dumb stuff with daddies private shuttle… I don’t understand why we always let them off with a warning…”
The console started beeping,
”Oh look that’s them now!”
”Put ‘em on speakers!”
”Will do!”
…
”ATC this is Eagle, come the FUCK in!”
Fredrick rolled his eyes,
”Ahem… This is Elling Field ATC, calling Eagle Dispatch One. We hear you, over.”
”ATC what the FUCK took you so long!?”
”Ellington Field ATC, to Eagle Dispatch one, firstly: language, secondly: please follow standard radio rules, over.”
”THE APOLLO IS UNDER ATACK BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS!”
”Ellingt-WHAAAAT!? Repeat please! Over!”
”THE APOLLO IS BEEING ATACKED BY HOSTILE ELEMENTS! REQUETING IMMEDIATE ASSIST!”
Fredrick just stared at Millard dumbfounded. As the senior officer Millard was quick to collect himself and jumped up and towards his console.
”What are you waiting for Fredrick! Are we blind!? DEPLOY THE GARRISON!”
Fredrick ignored all protocol and just flipped the switch to connect his comms to every recipient available.
”ATC to all personnel and everyone who can hear me, the Apollo is under attack, I repeat, the apollo is under attack. I want all available planes that can reach the outer atmosphere ready ASAP! Get the darkfires on the runway I want them in the air yesterday!”
[…]
Conn raced towards the airstrip, feeling the wind in the ribbons at his back. He couldn't go nearly as fast as he wanted to with air resistance.
Why the hell did Adam always have to get into so much trouble, why did he always have to be the center of attention!?
Everyone either hated him or loved him, but the problem was people who hated him also wanted to kill him.
Why did he have to be so controversial!?
Why did he have to be hated for something that was such a big deal. Why couldn't he be hated for having controversial political opinions. Conn paused…
On second thought, controversial political opinions were kind of what had gotten them here in the first place, so he guessed that was kind of a useless comparison. How about being the kind of guy who liked to talk too much about fishing. That was a great way to make people hate you for being boring, but it didn't usually mean that people wanted to kill you.
Maybe they could get the man a hobby doing something that wasn't so controversial…
Like…
Kicking small Animals or…
Cannibalism.
He came roaring to the stop at the edge of the airfield just in time to watch an entire platoon of pilots racing towards jets. He could hear their minds and looked up to see a rather dinky shuttle descending from the sky. He floated forward towards one of the jets as two pilots leaped inside.
He was going to need a ride.
The pilots turned to look at him, but Conn just shook his head.
The pilots decided to ignore him in the confusion and Conn grabbed on tight.
Starborn, he had come to learn, were a very interesting species in comparison to others. Vertically, as in from the top down he was very fragile and likely to break his neck or collapse his spine if there was any kind of pressure, but with horizontal forces, he was practically indestructible. Below him the ship roared to life and soon they were gathering speed along the runway.
His grip was tight, and he used the extra energy from his ribbons to speed himself up along with the jet to reduce the pull on his arms.
His grip wasn't that strong.
They went vertical almost immediately, and he made sure to orient his body in the correct direction as they went hurtling into the sky.
[…]
Red's right wing had been hit. If there had been atmosphere around him he would have been a goner, but there was no air resistance here, so once he regained control of his roll, he pulled back into position and fired one last shot as the opportunity arose. The sixth Thunderhawk was destroyed in an eruption of debris, which he dodged only with difficulty, limping without the aid of the maneuvering jet on the end of his one wing. Things were only speeding up now, the Rundi were almost gone and the pressure was being laid thick on his people. They were hard to hit but the pursuit made it almost impossible for them to do any real maneuvering of their own. He was almost hit again as another Thunderhawk sped underneath him. They rolled this way and that rocking from one side to the other. Flying through debris and over strips of silver metal.
Below them the earth hung as a glowing orb.
Red cut in a wide circle coming in with the sun at his back, using it to blind one of the enemy Thunderhawk’s as he came in. He watched the group of them form up suddenly as a ring around the slow moving rocket, intending quite certainly to rush it all at once. He screamed into the comm trying to order his men around, but it was going to be too late, he could already see it coming.
The jets rushed forward, and he did too, screaming inside his helmet as they went to broadside Apollo 11.
And then with all the silence of space, sixteen F-90 Dark Fires came spitting overhead all at once, raining down a line of ordinance that cut through the group of unsuspecting Thunderhawk’s.
Space around them was filled with a myriad of silent explosions as each and every one of them was ripped to shreds.
All except one…
He saw it at the last moment.
It had been hit in the tail and had gone wildly off course.
It turned sideways, but had just enough force... For its wing to tear straight through the aluminum siding of the rocket.
FUCK!
[…]
Chavez and Richards had been ordered to strap into their seats.
Adam had taken it upon himself to lock down the rest of the main cabin. Outside the flashing lights were like a fireworks display without sound. He grabbed onto one of the rails, forcing equipment back into place, so that if anything happened it wouldn't fly out.
His legs were kicked up behind him as he floated forward reaching for some of the controls as a sudden bright wash of light filtered in through the windows. He heard a scream over his com, and then the air around him was rent with a horrific tearing noise, which suddenly went silent. There was a rush, and he jerked forward as he was sucked back... And out of the ship entirely.
His hands and legs kicked and flailed as he tried to right himself, hearing his own breathing as the only sound as he watched the rocket begin to spin, debris erupting around him as air, and whatever wasn't strapped down was sucked through the small opening.
The rocket was spinning wildly but still on course, while he was spinning wildly in a silent abyss.
Grunting against the force of his spin, he reached down for the controls to the CO2 canister built into the pack of his spacesuit.
He groaned, not sure which way was up or down or back. He tried to right himself against the spin by firing in the opposite direction to slow his spin.
He could see the rocket now spinning in the opposite direction with the sudden loss of oxygen. He hoped the other astronauts were ok. He saw the silhouette of a jet fly past in the distance making its way towards the spinning rocket.
At least there was someone here to help.
Maybe the others would survive-
And then he just… stopped, coming to a confusing halt in the middle of space.
That shouldn't have been right!
He should have kept going forever!
He tried turning his head, but he felt like the pillsbury doughboy in this two thousand year old suit.
What was happening?
"Did you miss me Baby?”
Well shit, now he sort of wished he could keep spinning.
There was a tugging on the outside of his suit, and Conn floated into view in front of his helmet.
"Hey sweetheart."
"You are probably the last person I wanted to see."
He said, though he didn't entirely mean it, and unfortunately Conn knew that too, the mindreading asshole that he was.
”I could hardly let the father of my child go spinning off into space without taking accountability for his family. After al child support is paying way more than widows pension."
"Shove it up your ass Conn."
"No really, not even the vacuum of space is going to save you from your responsibilities. Now, about custody, I was thinking you could have every other weekend and a couple of major holidays…”
He gave a rueful sort of smile as Conn grabbed him by the life support pack and started floating them towards the rocket.
The F-90s had somehow managed to slow the spin of the rocket, and pull it back on course with grappling magnets.
All around them space was filled with debris. No more working Thunderhawk’s were present and those that were were quickly being grappled. One sleek racing jet slowly cruised past them. One of its wings was damaged, but whoever was inside waved with one hand as he rolled past.
Adam lifted a hand as Conn brought him the last few hundred feet to the torn opening in the side of the ship, allowing him to step through.
Conn patted him on the side of the helmet,
"Make sure to be home by dinnertime sweetie."
Before blowing him a kiss and vanishing back out the hole.
Adam floated there, a bit nonplussed for a moment before turning back to the front of the ship where Chaves and Richards were still strapped into their seats staring at him and after Conn. He floated over to strap himself in.
"Admiral! You're ok!”
"Yes, it seems that I am, thanks to a... Friend of mine."
Just then Conn appeared again just before their right side window, and like the classy gentlemen that he was began rubbing his butt up against the glass.
He sighed,
"Friend is kind of stretching it."
"Apollo 11 this is Houston, do you copy!"
The man on the other end of the line sounded close to tears, and Adam hurried to respond,
"Houston this is Apollo 11."
On the other side he thought he heard the sound of voices cheering in relief.
"What is your status, over?”
"We are a bit beat up Houston, we have a tear in our hull, but our suits are ok, and we have help."
"Prepare to abort mission."
Adam frowned,
"Now wait a second there Houston! I didn't get sucked out the side of my own rocket to just quit now. Tell the boys to come up here and patch us up and we can finish the mission. All systems are still functioning, and we are back on course."
He glanced over at the others,
”That is, if the crew wants to continue."
There was a pause and then Chavez timidly piped in,
"I'd be ok with that."
Richards sighed,
"Roger Houston, patch us up."
Granted it may have been cheating. Apollo 11 hadn't had support with special tools that could just patch up a spaceship within ten minutes, but then again the original Apollo 11 hadn't been in the middle of a firefight while on their journey to the moon.
So it was with some trepidation that Houston allowed it, and before long they had air back inside the cabin back up to pressure, but they also had a sixteen-man rotating escort for the rest of the way.
The group of them were even shocked to see Rundi drones join the formation, only to learn that it had been the UN president who had allegedly called the hit on him. It was hard to believe, but they were only getting snippets here and then from over radio and from Conn, who floated around occasionally to rub another part of his anatomy against the window and give them teasing updates.
The moon was growing slowly in their vision.
"Hehe, I can see my house from here."
Adam remarked as they prepared to detach the lunar module from the rest of the ship.
They landed without incident, observed by mobile camera crews and news reporters as he made his own footprint on the never changing dust of the moon's surface. He gave them a thumbs up to let them know he was fine and hesitated only once before setting up the UN flag in the dirt. He refused to let his enthusiasm be dampened by the day's events and hopped around dancing and leaping for joy as another one of his childhood dreams was fulfilled.
…
That was before he plowed face first into the moon's surface and required help from Richards to stand back up again.
They left soon after taking another three days of escort back to earth before strapping themselves in for final entry.
Conn left them just as they were entering orbit with a very big and very drawn out middle finger for all three of them.
"Your friend is super delightful isn't he?”
"You don’t know the half of it, try having a child with him."
Adam muttered, refusing to elaborate even as they stared at him in confusion.
They fell from the sky and landed somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, picked up by the waiting navy vessel who was within nine miles of their landing site. They were fished from the water and returned safe and sound to the ship to cheers and cameras. Adam's legs felt a little like jelly after days of not using them, and he was finally able to relax lying on the deck of the ship under the sun as people ran around them on either side.
His hands shook slowly building up after the stress of the last week. He took long deep breaths and closed his eyes.
The next few days were going to be a real shit show.
And somehow it wasn’t because he was now known as the man who faceplanted not one, but TWO interstellar bodies…
The media was way to busy with the other story, a massive net of deceit and corruption that would now be uncovered.
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Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
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Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

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Note: Alright troops, it's my birthday tomorrow so I'm taking some shore leave. No new chapters tomorrow. Fantasy General will be back on Friday with a chapter that you won't want to miss...
Marcus sat silently in his chambers, his fingers drumming into the stone armrests of his chair that faced the balcony window.
Outside, there were chants being spurned on in his name. There were ratmen down there who were ready to throw their lives away just to get a look at him and to know, for certain, that he was still alive.
"They've pinned their whole hopes on me," he whispered."And yet, I'd sell them all out just to see Mari again."
He leaned back at stared at the empty ceiling above, tracing the cracks in the stones where the rats had probably done battle before.
"What kind of person does that make me?" he asked the vacant ceiling. "Someone worth believing in? Or something who lets his own selfish desires run his mind?"
The door to his room creaked open, and a small, robed rat shuffled in.
"I guess I'll find out soon enough," Marcus said as he turned to meet the visitor he had called to his room alone.
Deekius.
The rat-priest looked up at him with both awe and – Marcus thought – a small sliver of fear. Perhaps the rat himself now believed all the sermons he had delivered about Marcus the Shai-Alud. Perhaps he didn't, and the display of terror-stricken reverence was merely an act.
He bowed his head so low that his snout practically kissed the stones of Marcus's floor.
"Shai-Alud," he said. "It is being my honor to stand before you once again. How are your wounds healing?"
Marcus waved his trivial concerns away. "My bruises are psychological, at best," he said. "More importantly, tell me straight, can your Gloomraava do anything for Festicus?"
The rat-priest closed his eyes. His silence said enough.
"Then he truly is gone," Marcus stated, turning back to the balcony and the legions of baying fans waiting down there.
"We will be giving him a proper ceremony in the Grand Cathedral of the Unclean," Deekius stated. "Then, he will be afforded the highest honor – his body shall be returned to King Skylock of Marrow and consumed by their Clan's Queen. King Shrykul is making necessary preparations."
Marcus hesitated before he spoke his next words, his mind racing.
"Tell him to wait," he said.
Deekius blinked. "Sire? The King is giving order to –"
"Do the soldiers of Clan Marrow know their commander is gone?" Marcus asked. "Do they know how, and where, he died?"
"They…they are knowing the assassins struck here tonight. They are knowing their commander is pursuing them, but all his forces do not yet know he is perishing on top of the Foundry."
"Good," Marcus said. "We will be keeping it that way."
Now he turned back to the little rat-priest. The one who brought him here when it seemed his purpose in life had departed him. When he was at his most hopeless…
"The prisoner," he said. "Where is she being kept?"
"She is being taken to the dungeons on Gloomraava Verulex's authority," Deekius said. "Her execution is being scheduled for 6 hours from now. I am being sorry, Sire Marcus, but the priest of Glumrot is having final say in this matter."
"But not," Marcus added. "The sole domain of priest Verulex."
Deekius cocked his eyebrows at him, his fur furrowing beneath his hood.
"No," he said slowly. "But he is being senior priest here. Authority of Glumrot priests are second only to Prime Putrefact's."
"Yes, of course," Marcus replied. "And where is Gloomraava Verulex currently?"
"He is in his chambers resting," Deekius replied. "He is still recovering from his wounds – the poison of the Yokun Matron is working on him. But he shall be surviving yet. He is just needing rest after all his exertions."
"Yes," Marcus said. "He was gravely wounded. Wasn't he?"
Silence weaved its way between both rat and man as the hidden meaning in Marcus's words spilled out into the air around them.
"Deekius," the human finally said. "I know you have ambition in you."
Are you really going to do this? he asked himself. Once you take a step like this…there is no going back. This is the abyss.
Even as his mind fumbled, he recalled the image of Verulex's hateful eyes staring at him beneath his ragged hood. He recalled the feeling of the Yokun's blade against his flesh as the rat held it before him. And he recalled the ratman's statements in the war-chamber. He had realized, as he was brought back to this castle, why that little priest showed no fear in making such open threats.
Because he thinks I'm weak, Marcus told himself. He thinks my displays of mercy to be the whims of a coward. He thinks I am a tool to be exploited, and nothing more.
But I have tools of my own. I'm not just a history professor, anymore. Words no longer have to be my only weapons…
"Sire?" the ratman mumbled.
"I have heard the sermons you sing about me," Marcus said, stepping closer and bending low to look the ratman right in his sharp eyes. "About the power you wield now that He-Who-Festers has looked upon you as His chosen priest. After all, it was you who summoned the Shai-Alud. And it was you who called those illusions – at the palace doors and atop the Foundry tower – that led to the defeat of the Yokun assassins, wasn't it?"
"You are knowing my skills too well, Sire," Deekius replied with a humble bow.
Now's the time, Marcus. Do it. Show him who you are. Who you can be. Show them all.
"A rat like you," he began coolly. "A rat with such power flowing through him – a Gloomraava chosen by the Unclean – shouldn't a rat like that be the priest who commands the highest office of respect in this place? Shouldn't it be a priest of Fleapit – the priest of Fleapit – who speaks for the Shai-Alud and for his people?"
The light of an epiphany slowly began to creep into the rat-priest's dark eyeballs. His mind was catching up to the desire that lay at the core of his Shai-Alud's words.
"I could give you it all, Deekius," Marcus continued as he saw the light of the priest's own desires flare in his face. "You will be installed as the new Prime Putrefact. Your old leader – he was too weak. He was captured and rots with the enemy. This happened because He Who Festers did not see him as worthy. Not like you."
The eyes of the ratman widened now. Anticipation, excitement, and even a little bit of bloodlust had just taken root within his small mind.
"Sire," he smirked. "You really are having the soul of a rat."
This is it, Marcus. If you go forward now, there is no return.
One path led towards return to his home – the honorable path where he did his job and then shipped out. That was the path he had expected he'd follow. The path that had been causing him all his headaches recently. Now, with the Glitterpak gone, it would simply be even harder to force a surrender from the Kobolds.
But another path had just been opened – a path where Mari lay at the end. If it was true that she really was here, among the warriors of the Yokun, then that meant he'd be going home without her if he found Silas alive. It meant returning to his mundane life without the one thing that made it matter at all.
The right path was so obvious to him. So clear that it was almost comical.
But that's exactly the path he could no longer tread.
"I am knowing what you want to say," Deekius whispered. "If I may speak plainly, Shai-Alud, it is something your human honor will not allow you to voice. But you wish it of me, don't you, Sire?"
Marcus licked his pale lips, feeling the trembling that had set in them earlier fade away.
"Yes, Deekius," he replied. "I do."
A curt nod from the rat and – just like that – a conspiracy was born.
"How?" the priest asked.
"First, a promise," Marcus replied. "I want your word that you shall swear your fealty to no one but me, your Shai-Alud, from this night until the end of all nights. Do this, and I will give you all the honors within my power. King Shrykul will not deny me – I am the only hope of his ailing wife. The warriors of Marrow and Glumrot will fall into line – your sermons will see to that. And from this night forward, this empire will know the name of one priest only."
That was it. That was the final stoking of the fire that sent the rat into an almost trembling frenzy. And the future of the ratman race was decided by his last whispered words:
"Sire," he said. "This is a promise. Together, we shall be making history."
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A DE-based CT that's inspired by the Goosebumps book "One Day at HorrorLand", that allows the user to cast a DE that's reminiscent of the theme park from the book. This domain mirrors the eerie and dangerous aspects of Horrorland, complete with menacing attractions and terrifying monsters. The user can control and manipulate this park, using it to trap and frighten enemies. Upon activation, the user is automatically transported into a master control room of sorts that allows them to oversee the entirety of the park and opponents via cameras strewn about the park.
The user can also summon and control an innumerable amount of green-skinned, muscular horned shikigami dubbed "Horrors" to be used for offensive, defensive, or support purposes. These shikigami are not only physically strong, but also immensely durable, to the point where nothing can really hurt them. The only thing that can kill these shikigami is pinching them.
The main sure-hit effect of this domain, revolves around the gameshow-based aspects that this domain has to offer. Upon getting caught in this domain, the opponents are randomly placed in different sections of HorrorLand where they are then forced to participate in games involving the various attractions or rides. Everyone is then given 3 lives, that can't be brought or won back, and if all exhausted will result in the death of the opponent.
The unwilling participants and/or participant is able to freely pick which ride or attraction to compete in, with each one having the same win condition: SURVIVE. The how doesn't matter, as long as you survive. They must survive a total of 5 games in order to win, which will then transport them to the exit point of the theme park, or in other words, forcefully deactivate the users domain, which results in a heavy amount of backlash on the user. If there are multiple opponents caught in this domain, only one of them needs to win in order for the whole group to win.
Some of the notable rides and attractions (because it'd take forever to list EVERYTHING lol), as well as their effects are as follows:
Attractions:
Deadly Doom Slides: 10 monstrous slides, each with a different interior and effects. The slides themselves are way bigger on the inside than outside, being more like tunnels than actual slides, or even separate realms entirely. The slides are as follows:

1. Ear Wax Alley: Appears as a twisted tunnel filled with grotesque, towering sculptures made entirely of ear wax, that can attack whoever enters, with their main method of attack involving coating and immobilizing victims in earwax that slowly corrodes their skin.
   
2. Electric Banshee: Appears as a realm of perpetual thunderstorms, where lightning strikes indiscriminately and the air is filled with the haunting wails of spectral banshee-like shikigami that are capable of attacking opponents. The ground crackles with electrical energy, and those who enter risk being struck by lightning or driven mad by the banshees cries.
   
3. Worm Belly: Appears as the stomach of a massive, writhing worm. The walls are lined with pulsating organs, and the ground is covered in squirming, slimy worms. The air is thick with the stench of decay, and stomach acid that slowly eats away at those who dared choose this slide.
   
4. Dragonbreath Drive: This slide leads to a fiery landscape dominated by a colossal dragon-like shikigami. The sky is filled with smoke and ash, and rivers of molten lava flow through the terrain. The dragon's fiery breath scorches everything in its path, and those who enter must evade its wrath to survive.
   
5. Just-a-Drop: A normal slide in appearance at first glance. The effect of this slide however, takes the form of a massive bottomless pit that the victim must figure out how to escape from.
   
6. Hairy Luge: This slide is coated in a thick layer of writhing, sentient hair that grips and pulls at anyone who enters. The hair seems to have a mind of its own, forming into grotesque shapes such as hands or weapons, and faces that leer and taunt those trapped within.
   
7. Carpenter's Delight: This slide leads to a realm where everything is made of sharp, splintered wood, that unless your entire body is reinforced with CE, you'd easily get impaled. Trees twist and contort into nightmarish shapes, and the ground is littered with jagged wooden shards.
   
8. Sewer Slide: This slide descends into a maze-like network of dark, dank sewers filled with toxic waste and monstrous shikigami that can spew toxic waste that burns flesh. The walls are slimy with filth, and the air is thick with the stench of decay.
   
9. Infinity Dreadful: This slide leads to a dimension of infinite darkness, where the concept of time and space are warped. Those who enter find themselves trapped in an endless void, with no hope of escape. The darkness consumes everything, including the minds of those who enter.
   
10. So That's Where All the Axes Went!: This slide transports individuals to a realm where every surface is covered in sharp, spinning axes. Surviving in this realm requires constant vigilance and agility to avoid being struck by the deadly blades.
    

Rides:

1. Bumper Carnage: This bumper car ride is set in a twisted, nightmarish version of a carnival midway. The cars are equipped with spikes and blades, and riders must dodge not only other cars but also the deadly obstacles that litter the track.
   
2. Calamity Canyon: Victims board a seemingly normal log flume ride that quickly descends into darkness. The waters become murky and filled with unseen shikigami that pull riders under, only to spit them out onto a crumbling, narrow path along a cliff's edge. The ride culminates in a final drop into a pool of blood-red water.
   
3. Dead Ringer: Riders board a carousel where each horse is adorned with a skeletal rider. As the carousel spins faster and faster, the skeletal riders come to life, reaching out to grab and pull a riders soul out of their body, and then them into a another skeletal rider.
   
4. Wheel of Misfortune: This Ferris wheel takes riders to dizzying heights before suddenly stopping, leaving them suspended in mid-air. The cabins then begin to rotate rapidly at supersonic speeds, causing disorientation. Some cabins even detach randomly and plummet to the ground.
   
5. Monster Mash: This haunted house ride is filled with animatronic monsters that come to life, chasing and attacking riders as they make their way through dark, winding corridors.
   
6. HorrorLand Derby: Riders board decrepit bumper cars that take on a life of their own. The cars steer themselves, crashing into each other with bone-jarring force. The arena is shrouded in darkness, and eerie laughter echoes through the air as the cars relentlessly pursue their terrified opponents.
   

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Memory Transcription Subject: Elias Meier, Former UN Secretary-General
Date [standardized human time]: July 13, 2160
The irritability coursing through my psyche was palpable. Every sound was dialed up to eleven, stabbing at the core of my sensory processing. Constant awareness grated on me after days without sleep, never having any break from the stream of information I needed to digest. There was no way to shut the world off and reset, and no reprieve from the unsettling reality of my physical experience. I was curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth; I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on like this.
Virnt scuttled over to me in the spaceship, jostling my shoulder. “Elias? Would you like to turn back from this mission?”
I remembered how I’d spent most of the trip, standing under the water in the shower. There was a special shampoo they’d provided for synthetic hair, like a wig. I held out my phony hand and emptied most of the bottle’s worth of goop, zoning out; I was trying to soak in the distant sensation of liquid running down my spine. Once upon a time, this had been the most relaxing time of my day—letting muscle tension fade away and cleansing grimy skin oils. Now, I knew neither of those two still existed in my day-to-day life to assuage.
Did it even matter to slap soap on some metal frame? There were no consequences of letting hygiene go by the wayside. I didn’t sweat in order to start to reek, and I couldn’t get skin conditions or be affected by bacteria. It could be that I was bathing out of habit, clinging to my old lifestyle, that I kept going to wash up. Perhaps the shower had become my favorite haunt because I felt disgusting in this body. Everything was a reminder that I was an inhuman scrap pile, and it was wearing on my sanity. It wasn’t like anyone related to what I was going through.
I used to spend so much time fussing over making my suits look crisp and perfect—immaculate ties, UN pins adjusted just right. The heavy jackets would trap my body heat in the summer; now, it no longer had that effect. I could bundle up as much as I wanted in 40 degree Celsius heat, unless there was some limit that would fry my circuits. Shit, I might not need a spacesuit in the vacuum of space—I couldn’t freeze or suffocate, after all. Being left out in the void for all eternity didn’t sound that much different from my present experience.
I hate what I’ve become. I hate what they’ve done to me; all I do is think, and every part of my new self lives in the uncanny valley. There’s nothing positive. Maybe it’s time to call it…death was better than this. I can’t bear another day of this hell.
“Hey, stay with me! Distractibility, depression, being unable to maintain concentration—these are natural consequences of sleep deprivation. I’m surprised it carries over without a physical mechanism to grow tired…but I’m working on a sleep suite, I promise,” Virnt said, glossy eyes staring at me.
I groaned. “I’m not tired, but it’s just nonstop. I…I’m having trouble remembering what I read.”
“Here, I’m going to try a temporary fix. You look like you need it. I don’t want you to suffer; just turning you off and on isn’t the same. I’m going to emulate GABA, uh, shut off your optic sensors, decrease the activity in your prefrontal cortex, and simulate delta waves for an hour. We can see if it somewhat fills the need for deep sleep, okay? Relaxation, no processing: worth a shot, right?”
I nodded mutely, staying in the fetal position. I didn’t have the will to move, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up that Virnt’s plan would be any mercy. The sensation of the Tilfish tinkering with my settings was strange, as if my brain was being overridden in the moment. There was no process of falling asleep to give it the air of naturalness. Suddenly, I was blind, trapped in darkness—and a modicum of drowsiness kicked in, limiting my movement. Thoughts died down, offering much-need relief; I faintly wished I could remain in this state.
When I came to, there was a sudden influx of information as the rest mode was switched off; it was hardly a seamless waking, but I’d take it. Peace in my own head was something I’d never take for granted again. I hadn’t thought myself to be a weak-minded individual, but I hadn’t realized how much it wore on you: feeling out of place in your own body every waking second, and not trusting your senses. Brain function had been restored enough that I could get a grip on myself, and rise in my disheveled state. A peek out the window revealed we’d completed our intra-atmosphere transit to the Duerten embassy.
I rubbed my eyes on reflex, but there were no gifts from the Sandman there. “Why couldn’t you have just added everything to start with, Virnt?”
“The humans I talked to said they wouldn’t want to sleep, unless they had to! I put the most focus on your emotional matrix and your facial expressiveness, since I thought that has the highest importance of what makes you human,” the Tilfish replied.
“You could’ve made it at least optional.”
“I sent the option to your holopad for the future, to trigger this program for as long as you’d like. This is a learning process, so I’m sorry for anything that’s off. All trial and error here, but it’s only going to get better! That’s the positive.”
“There are a lot of patches needed. For starters, you’re missing two of the senses: taste and smell. In spite of that, ever since I walked past the Terra Technologies staff eating tater tots, I’ve been craving them at random intervals. I’m not hungry—I can’t consume food!”
“Predator instincts,” Virnt teased. “The Federation was right.”
“I’m serious! Why on Earth would that be a thing? I literally can’t satisfy it, so it’s almost cruel.”
“It’s psychological, Elias. I looked into it after I saw it in your transcript. When humans are under a lot of stress or otherwise feeling down, you seek dopamine from food. It’s something familiar that activated your memories, and promised emotional comfort. That’s why you have the phrase ‘comfort food.’”
“I can already see how the Federation remnants would spin that. A predator’s so-called emotions are tied to food, and stimulate appetite to fulfill their whims.”
“You seem in better spirits. To add to your improved mood, we announced the success of your memory transplant to the world. The response was overwhelmingly positive—history looked back fondly on you. You got a lot of well-wishes, and I was able to get almost all of your social media re-activated. At least, the platforms that are still active.”
“I’m…allowed to share my honest experiences?”
Virnt eased me out of the shuttle, into the sunlight; cameras were waiting, causing me to stiffen. “Of course you can. I’m not here to muzzle you, my friend. Quite the opposite, in fact: I want your experiment documented as thoroughly as possible! You’re the spokesperson for—”
I shielded my face from the reporters, who were lobbing questions. “What is this? I don’t have a prepared statement. This is an ambush.”
“Terra Technologies has a mission of transparency, and improving sapients’ quality of life through digital means. We had to announce such a monumental breakthrough, but you’re under no obligation to speak with them.”
“Good,” a warm voice chimed in from next to me, making me jump. “The poor guy’s come back from the dead, Virnt. Give him a break. He’s here to speak with the Duerten Forum and their ambassador, for some semblance of his old life.”
I turned my head, beaming as I recognized her. “Erin? Oh, sorry: that’s Secretary-General Kuemper, isn’t it? You’ve moved up in the world. The United Nations is in good hands.”
“It’s good to see you, Elias. I bawled my eyes out at your funeral. You cared so much for peace and taking the high road; there isn’t a person out there who could’ve handled first contact with more grace. You inspired me, and an entire generation of future diplomats.”
I embraced Erin, who’d once been a passionate SETI researcher giving me all of the bad news about aliens. As we flailed about in the dark to save humanity and adjust to the galaxy, finally acquiring a few friends, she’d become my Secretary of Alien Affairs. I’d trusted her to do whatever it took to stabilize our extraterrestrial relations. It was a bit of a relief to see a positive reaction from someone I knew; I wasn’t sure how my friends would take my return, but I hadn’t been expecting a welcome with open arms. It brought me solace and comfort to know about the legacy I’d left behind, and the ripple effects my tenure had on the United Nations.
It is strange to see how much she’s aged. That’ll be the reality of anyone that used to be an acquaintance of mine.
The alarm bells pinging in my head faded into the backdrop, and I forgot that the wind gusting against my face only felt like a dull push. My mind slipped away from food cravings that failed to get my mouth to water, how there was no feeling of tightness from my dress shoes, and the stillness of my non-existent diaphragm. I was simply happy to see someone I cared about and enjoyed working with, in my old life. There was safety in having a person I trusted to be on my side. My brain snapped back into diplomat mode, falling into a familiar flow of conversation. If I had nothing else, I still had my social skills—an ability to navigate various cultures.
“So the Duerten Forum agreed to meet with the two of us. They know about the Sivkit attack, but not the full threat,” I spoke aloud, after breaking away from the rather soul-affirming embrace. “I read the strategy meetings for briefing them, and I’m on-board to appeal to nostalgia; humanity saving their homeworld was after my time, but close enough to it that I could serve as a reminder. A blast from the past.”
Erin nodded, her security forming a wall between us and the cameras as we walked toward the embassy. “I always wondered what you’d think of modern Vienna, Elias. All of the aliens willing to be here on our world, and to treat us like people. Friendship used to seem like a pipe dream; we were happy if they’d allow us to exist, tolerate us to that extent. Look at us now.”
“I almost gave up hoping that they could care about us, or stand beside us at all. We couldn’t do it alone then. It’s time we remember to stand together—to rise to the occasion once more. I can’t bear the thought of anything threatening our home, or our friends. I saw enough needless death twenty-four years ago.”
“That pain is a lot more recent to you. It’s completely okay to be wrestling with grief. A billion of ours died.”
“We didn’t become the monsters they thought we were, and we pulled through. We revealed their hatred and treachery, and have chosen a future set on rectifying every right they trampled. I’ll always mourn what we lost, but I’ve never been more proud of humanity in my life.”
Kuemper patted my shoulder. “You sound like yourself, my dear old friend. It’s very good to have you back; you were much better at smiling while they spit in your face than I ever was. Let’s do what’s necessary to get the ball rolling with the Shield.”
“I’m right behind you.”
The exterior of the Duerten embassy had a distinct construction style, with metal and concrete forming the bulk of the outside structure; on Kalqua, sturdiness was at the foremost of their priorities. Winds on a normal day could ratchet up to what we’d consider a tropical storm, according to my brief review of their culture. The door was evidently heightened to facilitate foot traffic from humans, despite the exit hatches on the upper floor which seemed frequented by the avian staff. Their personnel could literally fly away during an emergent situation. I tailed Kuemper into the lobby, and noted how much of the inside’s floor was concrete as well. It was resilient and easy to clean, a perfect surface to avoid being marred by talons.
Most of the gray avians used perches instead of chairs, with several staffers working on paperwork at their desks; in private areas, some met with any humans who had business with the Duerten Forum. The lack of reaction to a predator’s approach was new to me, but a welcome change. Kuemper confidently led the way to an elevator, which had the English and German words for “Welcome to the Duerten embassy!” written above the opening. The generic Shield logo was painted on both sides of the door, and emblazoned with a representation of Kalqua. There were no buttons inside, apart from an emergency exit; a camera surveyed us, before a watching staffer summoned the car upward. I felt a jolt as we reached the top floor.
“To be visited by two Secretary-Generals: one of whom is a ghost! Let me express the Duerten Forum’s honor and delight. Not, of course, that I don’t cherish Ambassador Hannah Marston’s visits.” A silver-feathered head poked out of a door at the end of the hallway, past a spacious lounge; his beak was the precise yellow of corn. “Please, come in. Make yourselves at home. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Kuemper shuffled forward, giving me a knowing look. “Water would be lovely for me. Thank you for the warm welcome, Ambassador Korajan.”
“I second that gratitude. Enchanted to meet you. I’m sure you know, but I’m Elias Meier.” Taking a gamble that the ambassador was more than acquainted with our customs, I extended a hand. Korajan strode forward with confidence, ensnaring my palm in his wingtip. “We appreciate you taking the time to sit with us, Ambassador.”
“Just Korajan,” the avian said, feeling my artificial hand with undeniable curiosity. He finally released my grip, and waited for us to get seated. “There’s no need for formalities, especially when I’m in such esteemed company. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve come to seek your assistance in the fight against the Sivkits’ assailants. The Sapient Coalition needs allies to back us against these menaces,” Kuemper stated. “Any help we can get would make a difference.”
“I see. I heard about your unfortunate defeat in your prior engagement, but I don’t see how it involves or concerns us. The Duerten, as you well know, aren’t in the position we used to be. We’ve turned our focus inward for years, shoring up our defenses to watch out for our beloved planet. The potential benefit it might offer you is so negligible that it’s hardly worth increasing our vulnerability. The risk far outweighs the rewards for any party.”
I studied the avian, careful to avoid a direct stare. “I understand that it’s a lot to ask. However, small bits of help from across the Shield can accumulate to be a massive difference maker. We want to stop this genocidal force from getting anywhere near Kalqua; if we play our cards right, you won’t need defenses.”
“Elias—sorry, may I call you Elias?” Korajan asked, continuing after I nodded. “We’re, of course, concerned to have a predatory species with such power and intentions, outside our known terrain. They bear a striking resemblance to the Arxur, and my government does appreciate the advance warning from the SC so we can make preparations. Yet the Forum is concerned by several of your recent initiatives, which would make us doubly unwilling to back your cause.”
“Go on. What initiatives have unsettled you?” I hope he doesn’t mean me, with resurrecting dead humans; that’d hit close to home, and I don’t know how to defend it. “Perhaps we can clear up our rationale and intentions, ensuring that there are no misunderstandings.”
“I hope I’m not impolite to point it out, but my government is beginning to see a pattern in your recent connections to carnivores. The Sapient Coalition is attempting an uplift on one race, despite what we all know happened on Wriss, and has brought them into your mix while they are at war with each other. We’re also aware of these Osirs—a race you are resurrecting to live among you, despite having no idea what they’re capable of. Present company excluded, species that need meat are not trustworthy types. These Osirs are weapons: look at the fangs.”
“Anything is a weapon in the wrong hands. Respectfully, we don’t feel that it’s right to judge a species for their diet. If I’m not mistaken, your own kind were once omnivores, Korajan.”
The Duerten fluttered his wings in acknowledgement. “The Federation changed us greatly—some things for the better, others to erase our intellect. We’re an individualist species, and they tried to make us…what do you humans call it? A ‘hive mind.’ Hive minds, of course, are fiction, yet they tried to make it real. Still, sometimes when you’re changed enough, it makes it impossible to go back to how things were.”
“I of all people grasp that sentiment,” I sighed, without moving an abdominal muscle, reflecting how my life would never be the same in this state. “We believe all sapients deserve a chance at life and happiness. Equality isn’t a principle we withhold based on any factor, and we don’t change species to fit our own whims.”
“This is why we’re content with our relations as is: separate, so we’re not connected to your disputes or obligated to get involved. The Duerten will always have differences between what are considered acceptable behaviors, and our guiding principles and overarching goals.”
Kuemper tapped her fingers on her knee. “Regardless, our choices with the Bissems and Osirs will have no impact or tangible effects on the Duerten. Nor is it a reason to shy away from protecting herbivores, the mandate that led you to stand up to the Federation in the past.”
“That cost us everything. Kalqua took a beating worse than Earth did. We don’t set out to attract the ire of powerful enemies these days.”
“We saved Kalqua. We were there when you needed our help to keep your innocents safe,” I reminded him, knitting my eyebrows with earnestness. “We answer when others call for our help to stay alive; the Duerten know what drives us to answer the bell. Isn’t that worth a smidge of reciprocation?”
“If Earth, or for that matter, Leirn were under siege, we would come. However, it appears to us that you entered their territory, not the other way around.”
“Think of the type of species…no, the kind of governments that would glass worlds. The old-school Arxur Dominion. The Kolshian shadow caste when they were defied. The Krakotl extermination fleet because they hated us. That’s what we see in the Osirs, and the gluttonous killing of Sivkit civilians while refusing to speak. We can’t turn a blind eye.”
“I’m sorry, Elias. Even if I wanted to help you, I don’t have the authority. I’m expressing my government’s position, and I’ve been told the Duerten Forum isn't going to war under any circumstances. I apologize that I can’t be of more use, and regret if you might feel your time has been squandered, leaving empty-handed.”
I shared a look with Kuemper, recognizing that we had been stonewalled; there was an implication in Korajan’s last statement that the discussion on this matter was over. The Forum hadn’t given him any negotiating room, so I didn’t get the sense I could do better than asking for him to take a message. If this was the most friendly party we’d be interacting with, I wasn’t off to a good start wrangling support for an alliance. There were a few other Shield races we could try, but an endorsement from the founders might’ve gotten the whole union on board. We had to find another angle—negotiating with the Fed remnants would be impossible without the Shield as an intermediary.
“Of course we don’t feel that way. The back-and-forth was enlightening, productive communication, as much as humanity would love to stand side-by-side in this endeavor,” I offered. “We appreciate you hearing us out, and do hope you’ll pass along our rationale to the Forum, for clarity.”
“I will,” the Duerten responded. “Your words, as always, deserve to be heard and treated with respect.”
Kuemper followed my lead, rising as I stood. “Korajan, I want you to know I deeply appreciate what you said about coming to Earth’s aid should we ever fall on hard times. That stood out to me, as a reason why our cooperation is so precious and beautiful.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. I do wish you the best of luck in your future engagements; my people hope you emerge victorious.”
“Thank you. Our door will always be open if you have a change of heart.”
In my mind, I had already vacated the Duerten embassy, but it was necessary to retrace my steps to depart the ambassador’s office. Aliens were much more diplomatic in rebuffing us now than in my era, which was the proper way to express disagreements between nations. It wasn’t lost on me that the differences in “behaviors” and “principles” Korajan meant were things such as hunting, omnivory, accepting carnivores, exterminators, and predator disease facilities. The Forum still clung to much of their old lifestyle; the gray avian had stated that some Federation changes were “for the better.” That was telling about how much of their ideology they’d yet to shed.
“Forgive my impertinence, but before you go, Elias…may I ask a personal inquiry? It’s not on my behalf of my government,” Korajan called, as our shoes cleared the threshold of his office.
I turned around, giving him an encouraging smile. “Of course. Go ahead.”
“What…what was it like? To die…to be dead?”
“It wasn’t like anything. It was a singularity of all outcomes: all I ever was, and all I ever could be, condensed to nothing. There are no words to describe emptiness and infinite rest. It’s a peace that knows no equal.”
The Duerten dipped his head. “Thank you. It gives me some…personal solace, to know…to know my daughter is resting peacefully. She died in so much pain after only a short period of remission. Ahem…if you’ll excuse me, I…”
“We’ll leave you in peace,” Kuemper replied, softness in her voice.
I folded my hands behind my back, mulling over the choked-up ambassador’s words. How could I let a few days of mental suffering defeat me, when kids suffered through such terrible diseases—never getting to reach adulthood? This program could give children like Korajan’s daughter a chance to grow up, and be a kid, free from pain. As soon as I was alone, I knew I’d be cast back into a maddening state of consciousness, with my brain struggling to stay tethered to this reality. Where I’d been ready to give up before Virnt’s quick fix, the avian’s story made me want to remain in the fight.
The Tilfish had been right: there was the potential for the technology that had brought me back to do a lot of good, and save others a great deal of heartbreak and suffering. No personal sacrifice was too great to ensure that one day, no parent would ever have to bury their child.
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