I (32F) have been getting my bloodwork done every 2-4 months due to Graves’ disease management. I noticed that my MPV found has been high the last 2 years. It’s consistently stayed between 13.5-13.6.
I also had vitamin D deficiency and have been taking supplements for two months now. I had another CBC work up this week and I’m really starting to get worried. My doctor literally shut me down when I brought it up.
Should I be worried? My last labs this week showed it went up to 14.1 now. Everything else was in the normal range except for WBC would was slightly low at 3.88 (normal is 4.5-11). Other than those two values, everything else was normal.
I’m currently dealing with really bad GERD. Medication isn’t helping and I’m starting to develop pain in my left chest/rib area. I’m guessing it’s around upper stomach related….also having numbness in my left foot sometimes but it’s not too bad.
I’m not looking for a medical diagnosis lol just trying to get suggestions. Also, thinking about going to see a private hematologist or finding a clinic that can give me a more in depth workup.
So is this look concerning? Sorry about my English.

(29/M/Gay) here, found out my partner of 4 amazing years (36/M/Gay) had been sexting guys on Grindr for about 7 weeks (EA with randoms no PA) during a really rough patch in our relationship. It's just over a month since Dday and I wanted to share this breakthrough.
I have noticed that the mornings for some reason are incredibly hard for me. My partner and I have a successful company together with demanding schedules and after waking up at 4:30AM, having a great workout, I get home around 6AMish.... That's when it hits.
It's like my mind just self destructs. I want to go through his things, I want to shout at him, I want to find something new that will cut the wound deeper, I get traumatizing flashbacks of the sexual messages, the videos he took of himself, the d*ck pics and I can't believe this is the new relationship we have to start. For some reason at this time in the morning during my daily routine, the pain is unbearable and naturally, affects my whole day by making me late.
But today? I pulled into my driveway and told myself:
You are stronger than this. You know everything there is to know. Get your day started, just like he is starting his. Open that car door and feed the cat and dog. Then take off your clothes and get in the shower. If you can just do that your day will be better. Please just do this one thing for me.
And I did it. I got to my desk the earliest I have ever since DDay and I feel... hopeful. This was a really big step for me and I hope I can do it again tomorrow.
I hope when we start CC at the end of the month things will get better. He has been so good since this all came out, i can't fault anything he has done. We both want R, we both love each other. We were just in such a dark place with our relationship and this has jolted us into new territory that I am trying to navigate each day. I had no idea my WP was so crushingly insecure and anxious. Of course the pain is horrible but looking back on how I felt about 3 weeks ago I am proud of the progress I have made and hope this will inspire someone out there that an upwards trajectory can happen.

I saw a post the other day that said something along the lines of; "You are not giving your child access to the world, you are giving the world access to your child." Along with it was an image of a little bastard scrolling on a smart phone. Even though the post or the words didn't really resonate with me, it did incept the idea into my consistently firing brain of mine. When should humans, as a society, collectively introduce the internet to our offspring? And at what age is considered responsible enough for the crazy shit they are about to have access to??
Before any of you decide to start commenting or putting your two cents into this issue, let me give you the run down of how it's going so far.
I was with a girl for almost two years and she had a small child. She would let her child watch cartoons on her iPhone while she did some chores around the house. I watched this small little baby, barely two years old with his little finger, skip a YouTube video in order to get back to his cartoons. That fucked me up. This kid couldn't form a sentence but could recognize that something was delaying his interaction with a show, on a screen and how to actionably use your body to make your show come back on. This to me, is too far.
I completely understand as parents, especially a single one, you have to constantly find creative ways to keep your child entertained. You can't always engage with your child and any parent needs some relief. It's so much more convenient to hand over the iPad or Galaxy phone and let them go to town. It keeps them engaged for hours, they seem to be having fun and you can move on with your day.
I am an all around digital marketing professional. I understand how just about everything works when it comes to anything online. Would I personally intentionally give a small child a smart device to play around on? FUCK NO! It's already a FACT that most games and apps aimed at children are just straight dopamine creating factories to get a child addicted to the interaction so that EVENTUALLY they will ask the parent or guardian if they can spend REAL MONEY on this in order to elevate their online experience! I'm talking only mobile games and apps, not console games, those are basically harmless.
Or the twelve year old girls that get an Instagram account and strive to be an influencer because they think it's job security for the future?? Yes, that really happens! A child can easily get on to any social media account without anyone knowing or lying about their age to get access, all because they have had a smart device since they were little and know how to use it efficiently. I look at smart devices as ADULT devices. I've never looked at smart phones as any kind of child entertaining device. The blue light that radiates off the screen alone is extremely harmful to developing eyes.
I don't want to stray away from my point too much. Giving any small human a smart device at a young age exposes them to so much information, plenty of ad targeting and algorithms to keep them engaged which may shift their personality permanently. Along side with mental illnesses that arises from long term interaction with social media apps and bullying online.
I know we will never be able to completely shield children from the harsh realities of the world. There are too many access points to unlimited amounts of information. Hell, I was looking at rotten dot com when I was like, twelve. Kids will always find a way to get what they want, especially if they want it bad enough. A desktop computer and a laptop are more different than a smart phone. At least then you have some control over what a child can do and restrict some stuff online. With a smart phone or devices, I feel that even if you try to restrict access to it and certain apps, it doesn't work. I've tried putting a device on child mode, the child freaks the fuck out because they no longer can just download apps at will! It's too handy and too convenient. It's too easy to conceal and hide, yet, it is the most powerful thing that humans have ever had just sitting in their pockets.
You can drink when you are 21, you can legally drive at 16, enlist in the army at 18 so at what age or time in life, do you think a human being, is capable of responsibly and morally able to handle the complete and complex access to the world and all of it's fuckery? In hopes, to drown out the illnesses and disfunctions that have surfaced over the past twenty years of early and long term smart phone users? Because this shit right here, in the present, is not working out anymore.

I’m working on the Cashmerette Loftus wireless bra and… struggling a bit with the side seam area. With the size 44F, the bottom of the band fits snugly but I had a lot of excess at the top of the band. I pinned out the excess and that took care of 95% of the fit issues in the cups. But I had to pin out more than 2 inches on each side.
My instinct from typical garment making would be to slash the band piece in several places and take in that ease across the length of the top edge. I would be inclined to try to preserve the shape of the side seam, which is kind of hook shaped (curving forward). But that method would make the back band curve up. I’m new to bra making and wondering if that’s a terrible idea.
On my test bra I just took the excess out evenly from the band and side cup and then reshaped the armhole line (since the side cup slopes upward pretty dramatically by the side seam). Should I just transfer that change to pattern and call it a day, or is that curved seam worth preserving?

So I (20f) went to babysit my cousin Lisa (fake name 13f) over the weekend. Around noon my cousin asked me to look at a pimple on her back. Lisa explained that her mother my aunt wanted her to leave it alone, but over the past week it’s became pain to lean against anything.
I agreed and had her sit at the dining table. When I pulled up her shirt I saw a giant hamster sized pimple on her back. It was so swollen and had a white tip meaning it was ready to pop. Now I’ve suffered with bad acne all my life but this was new even to me. I suggested to take a picture and send it to her mother before doing anything. Lisa agreed but still wanted me yo do something about it.
And I agreed that if her mother didn’t text me back in a few hours then I’ll pop it myself.
Well I sent the picture and texted my aunt explaining that I planned on popping it if she didn’t get back to me by 2.
She did not get back to me.
So I grabbed a box of Alcohol wipes, bandages and q-tips along with a blue diabetic needle the small ones to help test your blood sugar. If you know you know. Anyways I explained what I was gonna do before I leaned Lisa against the dining table and cleaned the area. Before taking the needle and punctured the pimple puss immediately started pouring out. I took a q-tip and whipped up some puss smelling it before leaning in and sniffing the pimple it self. Luckily there was no smell.
I continued squeezing the puss out saying there was a lot would be an understatement. Eventually I stopped after a minute because of Lisa’s begging do to the pain. So I stopped and cleaned her back again before touching the pimple feeling something hard still under her skin. I apologize to Lisa before violating pushing down on her back and removing a hard piece of puss. Blood began to drip from the bigger hole so I cleaned it again before putting on a bandage.
Lisa complained about soreness and took an aleve from the bathroom.
Her mother came home three hours later. She immediately went to check on her daughter but when Lisa explained what happened my aunt lost it.
It turned into a huge argument where my aunt accused me of being immature and stupid for preforming a medical procedure with her permission.
I explained to my aunt that I’ve done it before on my self and that it was safe.
She went on to scream that I was supposed to be the adult in this situation. And Lisa had no idea what she was getting into. I just left arguing with my aunt is like fighting a brick wall.
I talked to my mom about it today and she said I should’ve just apologized. Now I wanna know if I’m the asshole for helping Lisa?

I get a lot of messages asking about my cancer, so before I get to my story: I highly recommend visiting BCAN.org and asking to be paired up in their survivor to survivor program. Every diagnosis is different and the survivor to survivor program pairs you with someone with similar age, gender, and diagnosis, so you can ask all about their experience. I have enjoyed volunteering with the program and the newly diagnosed that I speak to seem to as well.
My story:
In March of 2020, I was diagnosed with Stage III muscle-invasive bladder cancer. Leading up to that diagnosis I had recurring episodes of extremely painful urination for nearly two years. Not a drop of blood in my urine. The episodes were becoming longer and more frequent. I had urgency and an extreme pain that had me calling out sick from work. It was pure misery and by the time I was diagnosed it was actually a relief.
The test I urge anyone reading this to get is a urine cytology. I am not a doctor and this is not medical advice. In my experience the urine cytology saved my life. It's a cheap "pee cup" test you can get at any urologist's office. More info here. My easy to remember rhyme is: if it burns when you pee, get a urine cytology.
Up until that test, doctors had been meandering down a path that was not focused on cancer. I was 33 years old (37M now) and due to my young age they didn't consider cancer. I had been in some mountain bike accidents with pelvic trauma so I was misdiagnosed with Pudendal Neuralgia. Symptoms matched but the treatment offered no relief.
I did my urine cytology. 15 minutes later "Atypical cells" led to a bladder scope and I was looking at my tumors in the urologist's office. The tumors were biopsied and I was scheduled for TURBT. This is where my stage III diagnosis was given. I felt immediate relief from the painful urination after tumor removal. The tumors were pressing on my ureters so it felt like kidney stones all the time. We immediately started chemo and my doctors began telling me I would lose my bladder. I did MVAC chemo for four rounds over the summer. This was very intense: what you think about when people say chemo. Lost my hair--gained weight which is not uncommon--and overall felt like shit. After that I was given a few weeks to recover and then had a radical cystectomy with neobladder diversion in August of 2020. This was not an easy decision but the prognosis was best. I tend to trust the data.
SHOUTOUT to my medical team: Dr. Bupathi & Dr. Monticelli of Rocky Mountain Cancer Centers; as well as Dr. Shandra Wilson my urologist and surgeon. Their skills and expertise assuaged all my concerns and made me feel so confident. THANK YOU SO MUCH. For those reading: get a good team; ask lots of questions; and don't be afraid to get multiple opinions. I keep several journals, which help a lot and I'll detail that at the bottom of this post*
Recovery from the neobladder surgery was the hardest part. I had a foley catheter and "grenade" for six weeks or so. My cath bag looked like a bag of red wine due to blood. They walk you around a lot to recover faster. It involved a lot of bed-rest intermixed with short walks. I think I was out of the office for at least a month. I am in generally very good physical shape and even several weeks after this procedure it was hard to walk more than 1/4 mile.
From there I thought I was cancer free. I lead my life with my family**. Here is what saved my life again: Signaterra testing. Dr. Bupathi had these tests scheduled every six weeks. It tracks genetic cancer markers in your blood. The test results look like the stock market except you want it to go down. After several months we noticed it was rising again. We ordered a PET scan, found enlarged lymph nodes, and determined my cancer had returned (or never left). I began a second chemo regiment followed by immunotheraphy (that I just completed yesterday!!!). CisGem chemo was quite difficult. The C in MVAC stands for cisplatin and it's generally one of the hardest drugs to tolerate. After a few difficult rounds we switched to carboplatin and it became much more tolerable. After that I did two years of Bavencio/Avelumab. My Natera test results showed that my cancer had dropped to untraceable levels during chemo, so I effectively beat it before starting the PDL1 inhibitor therapy. However, my team strongly encouraged me to complete the immuno. To me, it felt like putting out a campfire: add water, stir, add water, stir. You gotta make sure it's really gone!
The bavencio PDL1 therapy caused me a lot of mood swings and sometimes caused immune system flare ups (i.e. "immuno flu"). For the physical flare ups I used prednisone, as needed. I tried to do so sparingly as it basically cancels out your treatment. The mood swings were the worst. I would often be despondent and depressed for a few days after treatment. Other times, I'd feel no mood alterations. Most often, I'd be extremely irritable for about a week after treatment (treatments were every two weeks so it was very difficult).
I'm now two years cancer free and beginning my recovery from the immunotherapy treatments. I am so happy to live in an age of modern medicine. Within my lifetime many cancers will become manageable diseases--it appears to me that bladder cancer already has. Reach out to BCAN support groups and DM me if my post didn't answer a question of yours. Good luck! You got this!
*Journaling helped me tremendously. I had three journals (google docs). The first was an overall journal detailing my doctor visits. The second was a symptom journal. The third was an insurance journal/spreadsheet. The first journal served almost as a blog, which I shared with close friends and family. That way I didn't have to have the same conversation over and over. It's nice to have family and friends interested, but it does wear at you when you have to tell the same doctor visit over and over to people. This cut down on those discussions and allowed me to have more enjoyable calls with well-wishers. The second journal I would write down daily side effects and 1-10 pain scales. This was extremely important because I could bring it up with doctors and I wouldn't have to remember how I felt, I could look it up. It also helped me understand insidious side effects that take months to reveal themselves. This was the most important journal and kept me sane. There are soooo many side effects and when you start a cancer treatment program you often have no choice-- so why read them? Well this journal would help me understand when something was a side effect. Often just knowing that it wasn't you it was the drug would have a calming effect. The third journal was so I could fight insurance and get what I deserve. Insurance companies try to reduce payouts through exhaustion. They want you to give up. By documenting your experience you give yourself ammunition when you have to escalate a claim or file an appeal. You have everything laid out in an organized manner. You can get it out of your head and onto a spreadsheet so that you don't think about it when you go to bed at night. I had to file appeals several times, sometimes with Colorado Division of Insurance and my record-keeping was a tremendous boon to my case. Don't pay a bill as soon as you get it! Wait until you get the claim record from your insurance company and make sure the number on the bill matches what the insurance company told you to pay. If you cut that check wrong, you'll seldom get that money back!
**Neobladders do not have musculature like your normal bladder. I had several very severe bladder infections--a few that led to hospitalization. During the first 18 months or so, I was not catheterizing becuase I was under the impression that my new bladder worked. I peed constantly; however, I was retaining over one liter of urine at all times. This urine kept becoming infected and putting me in miserable situations. Under my urologists advice, I began cathing and immediately felt great. I lost nearly 10 lbs in "water weight" and no longer have any urgency issues. I can sleep through the night, but often will cath around five hours into the night just so I can sleep in later. On average I cath about once every three hours. It's not painful when done correctly. It's honestly just tedious. However, after all of this the only way my life is abnormal now is my cathing. I can swim, climb, play with my son and do any physical activity; it just takes longer to pee now. I'll take that win!

Skewing some details to ensure our privacy.
I’ve (M, 29) have been in a very VERY private relationship with my partner (M, 36) who is an illegal immigrant to the US. When I say private, I mean literally no one else knows. I came out super early (around 11 y/o), so everyone in my orbit knows I’m gay, but no one knows about him. I was born here in the US, he was not.
As I’ve said, for our own reasons, we’ve been very private about our relationship. We’ve been together long enough where we’ve discussed getting married as a hypothetical, but I’ve honestly always pushed him away. Not because I don’t want it, but because I’m an overthinker who’s genuinely afraid of consequences that could come from it. Specifically when it comes to him applying for citizenship.
Let me explain. Everything in me wants to marry him. However, after we (hypothetically) get married, naturally the next steps would be for him to apply for citizenship. I know that it might seem silly, but him being an illegal immigrant is something that he’s always been very insecure about; I won’t unpack that on his behalf, but those who understand will get it.
He’s told me lots of stories about the process. It’s very intense and I’m genuinely afraid that whoever “checks” to see if we’re a “legit” marriage won’t understand our context - specially because 1) we’re queers in system who won’t “get” us and 2) we haven’t really documented our lives together in a traditional way that they’d “look” for. We’re genuinely just two gay men in love with each other, but don’t feel the need to be public about it. We like what we have - we don’t want to change what we’re doing. We just want to be married while keeping it to ourselves. I know how it sounds, but we’re happy. (Please dont offer any advice for “coming out” or labels of internalized homophobia - believe me, I know how it comes across. Those comments won’t be helpful.)
From what I’ve heard, I’m genuinely afraid they’ll think we’re just trying to scam the system because we don’t have a “trail” to prove ourselves or anything along those lines. I’m afraid they’ll end up deporting him. Deep down I know our love is real, but I’m honestly so afraid they won’t understand our situation and accuse us of something that could jeopardize everything we have.
It’s a really big deal for me and I’ve looked everywhere online and can’t find helpful advice.
I’m desperate. I don’t know what to do. Please help.

i really regret dropping math.
i want a job where i can do my own thing instead of being outspoken, and i want to migrate out of singapore. STEM or engineering would be perfect for this, but i don’t qualify for non-medical STEM fields because of the math background i lack. idw to become a doctor or work in allied health. seeing people in pain makes me feel like 💩 and i can’t imagine feeling like that every day. ig i could consider vet science (i don’t need to be rich, and that’ll help me migrate) but people advise me against going into that field without passion.
i’m thus looking at the next best option; technical skillsets in an MNC. that way, i can ask for a regional transfer after i work there for a few years. but a lot of these technical jobs require math? and i’ll definitely lose out to those people with better math and tech skills?
any tips on how i can relearn math again? from scratch as i really have no foundation in it.
and any tips on what degree i should choose???? or any advice for me?
in terms of interest, i really like geog and envi science. but i can’t do much with that degree outside of govt work and teaching. i want to move out of singapore. govt work is not the way to go. i detest kids. i probably shouldn’t teach. it wouldn’t be fair to the students anyway. i was looking at specialising in GIS, but the field is so tiny in singapore and it’s mostly govt work. what’s the likelihood i can migrate with that? its v unlikely i’ll get a job overseas an an international graduate. i gotta be realistic. after studying abroad its likely i’like need to come back to sg for a few years before i make my move again.
in so pissed at myself. i know i’m not dumb; i did very well in whatever subjects i took, and honestly i think i would have done better at math if i just persevered; i really was just lazy and now im facing the consequences to my lazy choices. 😭😭
i’m panicking now and i really dotn know what to do. i’m so angry at myself.

currently he's 12 years old and wasn't allowed to have a phone with tiktok (he's only allowed to have YouTube and tiktok) until like last year. since then, he's changed a lot.
I know that being a difficult kid around this age is very common, I myself went through that and I spent a lot of time on the internet too, but I suspect that he's watching dangerous content and trying to "replicate" it? he has increasingly become more sexist and is constantly making fun of fat people and saying misogynistic things. I don't know exactly what kind of videos he watches on tiktok but he's obsessed with dark humor, and nothing inherently wrong with that but it feels like he just wants to be controversial rather than make a good joke. and it's not the first time I've caught him watching openly transphobic and sexist videos, even if they're jokes he takes them seriously. for example he has said that he agrees with a far right homophobic political party from my country while having no idea what they stand for literally in front of me (a lgbt+ person) and my parents.
I sometimes get shitty "dark humor" videos in my Instagram feed (I don't have tiktok) and he acts and talks just like the people in them, and again a joke is a joke but him and a lot of these videos are just trying to be edgy.
he sometimes treats me and my parents like shit, and maybe saying this makes me a hypocrite because I as a teenager have a hard personality too. everytime he's more insufferable, he talks back to them and starts yelling insults and swearing when he loses in a video game and when my mom tells him to not do that he ignores her. and he talks really badly to me for no reason sometimes too. it feels like he doesn't take anything seriously, his grades have dropped because everytime my parents tell him to go study he takes it as a joke. he's always getting in trouble in school too.
today he crossed the line: according to my friend's sister (she's in the same grade as my brother), he refused to pass a water bottle to some girl if she didn't let him touch her boobs. he's always acting like women are inferior and thinking he's better because he likes "masculine" things. I'm 100% sure I'm telling my mom about this, I don't want him to do anything like that ever again. and I refuse to think that he just happens to have these ideas: I think someone must be encouraging this behavior and I'm sure it's the media he consumes and all of his friends who act the same way.
once I was talking about how some people exclude me for my appearance with my mom and he told me to just dress like everyone else does to be accepted, and it made me think that he acts this way just to be accepted by others. I mean, the fact that I'm trans has fucked up his late childhood and tween years in many different ways.
my dad has a hard time managing his anger and it feels like when my brother gets angry he's mimicking him, they act the same way. sometimes my dad takes his phone for a long time and he isn't allowed to use his console anymore, but he still is on social media by watching YouTube in the tv and through friend's phones.
I already told my parents that he's becoming more annoying overtime and they agree he is influenced by social media but everytime I tell them that he's always the troublemaker in school they just say that it's because of his age, which of course is relevant but I don't see other 12 year olds sexually harassing women other than him and his friends. I've never had a great relationship with him but I just wanted to vent and I hope all of this fades away as he grows up

Standard mixed cat, almost 2 years old, neutered male. 10.1 lbs. Fully indoor, northeast USA.
I took my boy cat into a vaccination clinic on Saturday. He got a rabies shot, his 3-in-1, and a dewormer. He was overdue by several months on his vaccines, because he'd broken his hip the week before his boosters and they recommended we wait until he fully recovered from surgery to put his body through any extra stress.
We asked if the vets running the clinic could be sure to give him the vaccines in his left leg, because the right was the one operated on, and they agreed. But then they let a girl who was training(?) do it and didn't say anything to her, told me I wasn't allowed to come closer to say anything to her, she couldn't hear me trying to call past the employee holding the line, and the employee on the line refused to leave his post to tell her either, so she injected him right where his surgical scar is. I'm beyond pissed and won't be going back there, but that's beyond the point.
We kept an eye on him, and he was tired and seemed sore, but not more so than when he's received vaccines in the past.
He had a vet appointment to renew a prescription (asthma inhaler) on the 2nd day after his vaccines, so we asked his usual vet then if she'd check him over. She gave him a full physical and said he seemed to be doing just fine, that his vitals were normal, good gums, normal eye responses, etc. She told us he'd probably be back to normal the next morning, he was just probably extra sore because the vaccine clinic irritated the surgical site and he was grumpy because of that.
That was two days ago and he's still being much more low energy than his usual. He does still run for treats, but he won't chase a toy farther than a couple feet and he won't jump. He seems to be going 50/50 on whether he walks normally or if he favors his good leg. He's been spending most of the day sleeping in my laundry basket, when usually he'll rotate through the windows in the house and sleep in the open on my bed or the couch. Usually he's a major lovebug, but he hasn't let anyone touch him except me (and the vet) since his vaccines. He loves being carried on a normal day, but squirms out of my arms, and hissed at my friend (he *never* hisses) when she lifted him to take him off the counter yesterday. He comes over randomly to sleep on my chest in a weird position he's only ever slept in before when he was freshly post-surgery.
I have another vet appointment at his usual veterinarian, but I couldn't get one in before Friday. I'm willing to take him to an emergency vet but it'll put me in a deep hole and I'd like to avoid that and save the money for a different emergency if I'm just overreacting here.
He's still eating, drinking, and using the bathroom normally. There's no bump at the injection site. I know he's in pain, but is this a normal amount for the circumstances? I'm just so worried about him and I feel like I've failed him by letting someone hurt him like this. Was his normal vet right in saying that he's just extra sore because of the area and otherwise okay? Is there anything I can do to help him be in less pain? He's never had dewormer before afaik, could it be a tummy issue in combination with his leg that's making him feel so bad?

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 to death?"
"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!
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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.
"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.
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.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
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.
   

Nestled in the heart of Massachusetts, Woburn offers a unique blend of history, natural beauty, and small-town charm. In this blog post, we’ll take you on a virtual tour of this picturesque town and uncover some of its hidden gems. From historic landmarks to outdoor adventures, there’s so many things to do in Woburn, MA.

Things to do in Woburn, MA:

Exploring Woburn’s Historic Charm:

As you wander through the streets of Woburn, it’s hard not to be captivated by its rich history. The town’s well-preserved architecture and quaint storefronts offer a glimpse into its storied past. Take a stroll down Main Street and admire the elegant Victorian buildings that line the road. Stop by the Woburn Public Library, housed in a beautiful Victorian building, to delve deeper into the town’s history and heritage.
Woburn’s history dates back to the early colonial days when it was first settled in 1640. Originally known as Charlestown Village, the town was later renamed Woburn in honor of Woburn, Bedfordshire, in England. Throughout its history, Woburn has played a significant role in shaping the region, from its involvement in the American Revolution to its contributions to the Industrial Revolution.

Nature and Outdoor Activities:

For nature lovers, Woburn offers plenty of opportunities to explore the great outdoors. Head to Horn Pond, a peaceful oasis in the heart of the town, where you can enjoy a leisurely walk along the shoreline or rent a kayak for a paddle on the water. The Middlesex Fells Reservation, just a short drive from Woburn, is a nature lover’s paradise, with miles of hiking trails, scenic overlooks, and opportunities for wildlife spotting.
In addition one of the best things to do in Woburn, MA is visiting parks and recreational areas where you can enjoy outdoor activities such as picnicking, biking, and birdwatching. Whether you’re looking for a peaceful retreat or an adrenaline-filled adventure, Woburn has something for everyone.

Culinary Delights:

After a day of exploring, treat yourself to a delicious meal at one of Woburn’s many restaurants. Whether you’re in the mood for classic New England seafood, international cuisine, or hearty comfort food, you’ll find plenty of options to satisfy your appetite. Be sure to save room for dessert – Woburn is home to several bakeries and sweet shops where you can indulge in a decadent treat.
If you’re a fan of craft beer or fine wine, you’re in luck – Woburn has several breweries and wineries where you can sample locally-made libations. And for those with a sweet tooth, don’t miss the chance to visit one of Woburn’s ice cream parlors or candy shops for a delicious treat.
Important tips: A Guide to Parks in Boston

Conclusion:

As you can see, Woburn is a hidden gem just waiting to be discovered. With its rich history, natural beauty, and vibrant culinary scene, there’s something for everyone to enjoy in this charming New England town. And if you’re planning a move to or from Woburn, be sure to consider Premium Q Moving and Storage for all your moving and storage needs. With our years of experience and commitment to customer satisfaction, we’ll ensure that your move is smooth and stress-free. Remember, at Premium Q Moving and Storage, we move lives, not things.
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Listen/Watch Life Beyond Boxes Podcast Episodes Below

Catch the latest episode of the Life Beyond Boxes podcast now! Tune in for captivating conversations and eye-opening insights:

• Listen on Apple Podcasts: Life Beyond Boxes Podcast
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Don’t just exist – thrive! Listen to Life Beyond Boxes podcast now on your favorite podcast platform and embark on a journey of self-discovery and empowerment.
Subscribe now for a smoother, stress-free move and a brighter new chapter in your life. Let’s go beyond boxes together!

Link to schedule

Welcome!

Almost caught up this week! Check back in a little bit for the rest (including questions), I'll try to prioritize it. And apologies, in advance, for the stench of meat and burnt hair.

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 9 - Finding Words

Tenar goes to the lord manor during the haying, she talks with the workers there and they view the leather capped man, Handy, as shifty but with nothing wrong particularly. They are reticent to talk to her or anyone else however. She runs across the wizard from before, Aspen, and it turns sour quickly after a real poor showing from him. As she leaves he starts to attack her magically, but is interrupted just in time from the king's men from Havnor. They stop him but are still cordial to him, politics as usual. Tenar gives the men some information about Ged and thankfully they aren't reproachful, when Ged doesn't get back to them they accept this and sail off. Tenar finds little reason to stay around but it would hurt to leave so she just keeps Therru closer than ever, and the days pass. Aunty Moss looks into it and there's a rumor that the wizard from Roke, Aspen, was contacted after the death of the grandson's mother, and the wizard supposely was helping keep the grandfather alive by siphoning the youth's life force. Therru is actually doing pretty good, she gets some interesting toys and even started to learn a trade. Tenar worries about what Ogion said about "teaching" however and one afternoon tries to teach Therru about the true word for "stone", but something slightly odd yet poignant happens. That night, Tenar is wracked with anxieties and evil thoughts, she even bolts from bed and throws down countersigns for a curse. There's a weird smell in the house. The next day she picks up some fabric in town with Therru and is attacked with a shower of stones ("stones" again). Arriving back at the house it is apparent somebody was there. Furthermore, her thinking gets really muddled, she relies on Kargish to get through what's likely a curse. They abandon the desecrated place but not before watering Therru's peach tree and taking Ogion's great books (dumping the fabric in the process). They stay off the main road and the words (Hardic and true) slowly come back to her, she even picks up a stone, says its true name, and carries it. They arrive in Gont Port and the plan is to camp in a forest but instead they run into the leather capped man. They flee to a Havnor ship and are stopped by a sailor. The leather capped man, Handy, first says he wanted to help them (like he helped alert the women to Therru when she was burned) and grabs Therru, breaking Tenar's promise that he would never touch her. A younger sailor arrives, and Handy switches his strategy, suddenly Tenar is a witch that has stolen his niece. The young sailor lets her on the deck while he looks into things and Tenar collapses, begging them not to let him take her, not to let "them" have her, not again, not again.
In-depth Summary

Chapter 10 - Dolphin

Tenar comes around from exhaustion, and promptly realizes the young sailor is actually King Lebannen (aka Arren from the last book). They were actually seeking her out and thought maybe she came there because she had heard this. Lebannen agrees to take her to her old farm in Middle Valley on Gont. Therru is put to bed by the king and Tenar relays the terrible things that have befallen them, particularly with Therru which is worse than what's been outright stated. Tenar feels they will be safe where they are going, and she talks to Labannen about Ged instead. Of particular note is that Tenar claims people of ill will are after him, there's also a comparison drawn between the land of the dead's mountain, Pain, its stone, Tenar's stone, and Ged's damaged hands. Ged needs healing and has lost his patience, to be replaced with self-reproachment. The next morning, Therru is hard to rouse, she might be in fever and the place where Handy has grabbed her is noticeably marked. On the high prow Tenar meets in particular the Master Windkey of Roke Island, who actually trained Ged as a child. Unfortunately, Tenar finds him close-minded to her throughout this chapter in various ways. A very weathered sailor presents Therru a carved ivory or bone dolphin, which Therru puts with her other dolls, but even now she doesn't thank the man (she leaves that to Tenar) and she retires soon after. Tenar goes back to the king and the weatherworker and they talk about their search for a new archmage. It's mentioned Thorion from the last book has perished which is one of the reasons the king was there on Roke. The wizards congregate in the Grove and eventually the Master Patterner says in Kargish, "A woman on Gont." Nothing else is known, but they did remember Tenar's adventures, so here they are. The mage asks her if she would lead them to anyone (nope), or if she knew of any woman it might be (also nope). Tenar tries to mention the evils as of late (the gangs, what happened with Therru, the wizards' and witches' power lessening or changing, even the wizard's influence changing with the new kingship) but is ignored, the Master Windkey says the wizard's power structure and art will be healed (over a long time) now that Cob from the last book is defeated. After the Master Windkey leaves Tenar and Lebannen have a bit of shorthand, she implies that the woman might be Therru, at leaast one day. Tenar relays her immediate plans and Labannen says he'll visit if he can. Also, he will forbid the wizards from bothering Ged.
In-depth Summary

she has a narc husband and narc MIL. Comes to our house for months at a time, and tries to gain sympathy constantly by showing how difficult her life is. Instead of breaking the cycle she has made our lives hell.
She tells my husband she doesn’t know who is influencing him to do things differently than the way she does, because apparently he cannot have his own opinion. She keeps on asking my husband does your wife come first or your mother?
Refuses to go to her other child’s house because she will ‘not be as comfortable as she is in our house’ there in spite of kicking around and screaming about how she doesn’t feel ‘at home’ in our home.
Constantly tries to meddle in our plans and wants to come wherever we go. When DH stands up to her she makes him count the things she has done and the money she has spent on him and how he could never repay them for what they have done for him.
Believes in giving her other child complete freedom and that parents should not interfere in plans and that the other kid has a life of their own but there is no concept of space with us, she thinks she is entitled to do whatever we are doing.
She wanted to come on an international trip with us because she hasn’t travelled in her life and if she doesn’t go with her son who will she go with? Of course she has not been allowed to do so.
Taunted me saying i wonder how youre not able to land a job anywhere when i lost mine due to downsizing and recession made it tough to find jobs in my field.
She refuses to leave her husband and talks shit about him all the time but if anyone else says anything, she blows up at them saying he’s a very good person (he’s an asshole)
While i sympathize for how tough her life (abuse) has been i do feel now she would be the core of many issues that have been caused. She progressively gets worse with age and starts screaming and shouting when boundaries are enforced.
Keeps on saying i dont want to leave ur house because this is my house too in spite of being told she needs to go. We have managed to get her to fuck off and booked her flight tickets but she is hell bent on coming back in 2 months after staying for 6 months to which we have said no. The only thing left to do is slam the door in her face now.
DH and I barely talk to her now because of how she behaves.
If anybody has been in this situation would love to know how you dealt with it. Thank you!

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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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Chapter 10 - The Dolphin
Tenar is practically insensate. Eventually she comes around, and a reality comes to her that the younger man is actually King Lebannen (aka Arren from The Farthest Shore). He is young except for something in his eyes, which considering the past makes a good amount of sense. He kneels to her but she stops him. Lebannen of Enlad was actually seeking her out and thought, for a moment, that she had known this and come to meet him. Labannen agrees to take her to her farm in Middle Valley on Gont. The older sailor offers to carry Therru to bed but Tenar stops him, Labannen does so instead. She feasts on king's food (though not on wine as good as Ogion's was) and is able to convey what has happened with her and Therru. Worse things than what is strikingly visible had happened to Therru, and Tenar is convinced that the leather capped man and her parents had done it. Handy probably couldn't have done much there, but with the curse and Tenar's fear for Therru... in telling this she becomes somewhat befuddled again, was she speaking in Kargish?
Tenar thought they wouldn't be able to reach her where she is heading and wanted to put it in the past, so she looks at Lebannen and instantly knows he is concerned about Ged. She calls him Sparrowhawk and Lebannen say all three of them go by their true names, but she corrects him that actually Ged only did so to both of them. She says, quite matter-of-factly, considering it has never been said outright, that, "'He's in danger from envious men, men of ill will...." Lebannen says he didn't want to believe his power was gone, and Tenar says, "'He wants to be alone until his hurts are healed,' she said at last, cautiously." Lebannen talks about the dry land, the mountains (called Pain) that cut and of which wounds take long to heal, and Tenar is reminded of Ged's hands as well as the stone (of which she picked up when regaining her senses) in her pocket. Lebannen is stately, but grief leaks out when he asks why Ged won't see him. Tenar says when Ged mentioned Lebannen the old Ged peeked out, part of not seeing him is pride, which Lebannen can't see Ged as being (the only word he can thing of when thinking of Ged is "patient"). Ged has changed, though, and has no patience now, just hardness on himself. She starts feeling ill, and on parting Lebannen says, "'Lady Tenar, you say you fled from one enemy and found another; but I came seeking a friend, and found another.'"
She wakes to the commotion of a ship, and Therru is hard to wake. She seems feverish and particularly withdrawn, no matter what Tenar tells her about the positives their new life will bring. There is a mark on Therru's arm, a four-fingered brand almost, from where Handy grabbed her, a promise he would never touch Therru, a promise Tenar could not have kept. Even when Lebannen speaks to Therru she does not answer... eventually she eats a little and is allowed to return to the cabin.
The ship passes through the Armed Cliffs, sandwiched walls filled with soldiered forts. Lebannen is on the high prow with the ship's master (Master Serrathen) and a man who is the Master Windkey of Roke Island. He wears a gray cloak of a mage from Roke Island, a similar one to the ones Ged had worn, through the highs and lows during Tenar's and his adventure together in Atuan. Their conversation is very polite (he is a weatherworker but is unneeded) and Tenar feels a tad like a barbarian... she wonders how a woman would/could succeed in "...their world [of] this dance of masks...."
It would take about a day to make port in Valmouth and Tenar was content to idle away on a makeshift bed the old sailor had made for her, watching the journey. Tenar bring Therru up and a very gnarled old sailor gifts a present to Therru by way of Tenar, a little dolphin carved of ivory or bone. Therru springs to life at the mention that it can go with the bone dolls (the person and animal) but eventually does reticently ask to return to the cabin (where they are) and Tenar has to thank the sailor on her behalf. She sees that all her work with Therru, the last year, might have been lost with that one touch from the appropriately named Handy, and for what reason?
She rejoins the king and mage in a setting that reminds her of her dream of dragons. Lebannen says he has no message for Ged, he has made him king (with their journey) whether he crowns him or not. Tenar sees a vulnerability in him, but it's necessary for him to be a good person: "He thought he had learned pain, but he would learn it again and again, all his life, and forget. And therefore he would not, like Handy, do the easy thing to do." Tenar says she would gladly take a message to Ged though perhaps Ged would not hear it. At this the mage says it was always so with him, and it comes to light he taught Ged and knew him longer than she did ("'But the first time I had him out in a boat, to learn how to speak to the wind, you know, he raised up a waterspout. I saw then what we were in for. I thought, Either he'll be drowned before he's sixteen, or he’ll be archmage before he's forty. ...Or I like to think I thought it.'"). Tenar asks if Ged is still archmage, quite a stark question. "The mage said finally, 'There is now no Archmage of Roke.' His tone was exceedingly cautious and precise. She dared not ask what he meant." Lebannen suggest that "...the Healer of the Rune of Peace..." (Tenar) would have some role in the new politics, to this the mage agrees but not without a beat as well as with no elaboration.
Lebannen reveals things from his journey with Ged and afterward, including (which hits Tenar like a gong) Kalessin, but in particular about Ged's staff being left behind and something that the Master Doorkeeper of Roke had said ("'He has done with doing. He goes home.'") which indicated Ged's time as a mage was done. A counsel was enacted on Roke to choose a new archmage. The king attended to get experience with the Council of the Wise, as well as because Thorion the Master Summoner had perished after his "art was turned against him by that great evil which my lord Sparrowhawk found and ended" (this book says he did not make his way back after meeting with Ged and Arren in the land of the dead and being directed back to the land of the living by Ged). Lebannen has trouble criticizing the wizards but the Master Windkey makes it clear: just like the last book, the counsel was stalemated to inaction. This section also talks about the other Masters in some detail (the Summoner who fled, the Patterner [also Kargish] who kept to the Grove, etc.). Eventually they look to the Master Namer (after all, he knows the names) who looked to the Master Patterner. Finally the Master Patterner said, trancelike, "'A woman on Gont,'" in Kargish, and no more, with no more knowledge of what he said than the rest. So they went to Gont with no more knowledge, though since they knew Tenar was there they thought perhaps it was her who was to lead them to the new archmage (some thought to Ogion, though he was ill and had refused being the archmage in the past, some thought to Ged again).
Tenar is of the opinion that the Master Windkey is wary of her (as she should be of him), but she meets Lebannen with candor. Tenar says it couldn't be her, she wouldn't lead them to Ged. The mage says it's likely it's not her, after all she would likely have been truly known since she is one of the few who "...bear their true names openly!" [ed: which is a bit interesting, in older books it stresses the amount of power one can have over another, and the secrecy among all but the closest, in revealing true names. It's even key to the ending of the first book. Also, she was mainly known as Goha, a use name]. He wants to know if perhaps she knows of anyone, and nothing comes to mind (except maybe the Woman of Kemay of Ogion's story, but she was mentioned as old even in that, unless she truly was long-lived as a dragon). She feels silenced by the "deafness" of the Master Windkey, something similar to her description of when she met the other mages (which included Aspen) after Ogion's death. She says but at least there is now a King, "'In whom our hope and trust are well founded,' the mage said with a warmth that became him well."
Tenar takes time to mention the evils that have seemingly sprung up, like the gangs, like what happened with Therru, like the "...men and women of power..." that have had their power wane or change. The mage puts this on Cob (the antagonist from the last book, from the dry lands) and says it will take time to "...[repair] our art, [heal] our wizards and our wizardry...." Tenar says maybe this is part of something that was already changing ("...a great change..."), that even maybe the fact that the power is shifting from the Master wizards' counsel to a central king is a symptom of this. The Master Windkey reacts to this, almost literally, like casting a spell against a stormcloud, and Tenar is now sure that he can't hear her (can't hear any woman since his mother last sang to him). She puts down his promise of Roke and the Art Magic enduring with a mention of Kalessin (who arrived unfettered in Roke despite one of its legendary claims being its maybe singular protection from dragons). He apologies because he, '...spoke as to an ordinary woman.' "'My fears are ordinary fears.'" "But the young king was silent, listening."
Arrival at a town is announced, it is up to the skillful to sail the ship around the people and not, denying to, the Master Windkey. Tenar instinctually looks for her son's, Flint's, ship and tells Lebannen a little about him (they are little alike, and yet she thought she saw him in Labannen). With the Master Windkey gone they share a bit of a shorthand--"ordinary fear"--and stammers that while there might not be a woman for them now there might be a woman yet for them yet. She says this in kind of a "Isn't that right, no?" way and he answers, "'It may be.'"
Tenar asks Lebannen what this ship is called in case her son asks and it is of course named the Dolphin. She sees Labannen as her son, still. Tenar tells him that she will collect Therru and walk home after staying with her daughter, Apple, in Valmouth. Ged's name is unsaid, but when asked if the wizards of Roke will continue to look for him: "'That, if they propose again, I will forbid,' Lebannen said, not realizing how much he told her in those three words.' But in searching for a new archmage they might come to her again. She says they, and he, are welcome to, and Lebannen says, "'I will come when I can,' he said, a little sternly; and a little wistfully, 'if I can.'"

About two months ago I (34F) started having stomach aches/cramping, changes in bowel habits and a feeling like something was stuck or like I wasn’t done even if I’d just gone to the bathroom or knew I didn’t need to go. I went to a GI about two weeks later and she said it could be colitis or IBS, she called for a FIT test and blood work (both came back normal) and a six week diet (two weeks gluten free, two lactose free and two fodmap). While the stomach pains went away, the changes in bowel and the feeling of something stuck or incomplete did not go away. I had a follow up yesterday and now she has ordered a colonoscopy for a month from now. She mentioned it could be internal hemorrhoids or colitis and also said she’s not worried but still wants to go in and look. Even though she seems unconcerned I am terrified. My worst fear is that it could be something much more serious and that diagnosis is taking too long. My question is do those of you who have experienced similar symptoms agree with her assessment or could my fears be valid and I should do more to get answers sooner? All thoughts welcome, thank you in advance.