Context is at the end of this post __________________________________________________
In the stormy northern seas lies the island of Amaria. Under the polar lights in cold forests live the descendants of the once great Varaki, who in turn followed the mammoth herds across the steppes for countless eons. These are the gods and spirits of this land. They live in every tree, every lake, every star, deep below the ocean and beyond the polar lights in four domains.
The underworld, a place of transition between life, death and rebirth. It was made after the creation of the material to help souls find their way back to life. The spirits of this domain all take the shape of dragons with red eyes and golden patterns.

• Räkimarak: Lord of the underworld and of all its riches. Every stone, flint and gems alike, belong to him. A great violet dragon with enormous antlers. He reviews the lives of all that died and guides them to the new lives they deserve. Father of all dragons of the underworld.
• Idaka: Wife of Räkimarak, goddess of love and beauty. She resides at the darkest place, where her light shines the brightest. A violet dragon with a frill and wings of red rose petals with golden patterns. She stands for all encompassing unconditional love and reunites loving souls in their next lives. Mother of all dragons of the underworld.
• Kimorak: Firstborn son of Räkimarak and Idaka, guide of souls who escorts the souls of the dead into the underworld. A great black dragon with golden horns. Every mortal he touches sees and feels their life in great detail from the point of view of those they affected. In the process, mortals always see something they need to see.
• Galorak: Lord of caves and their denizes, bats. A small black dragon with bat ears and a bat nose. Caves are entrances to the underworld and bats are its sacred animals. They are not to be harmed. But since they are also messengers of death, one must keep a safe distance. Don't disturb the bats or Galorak may convince his older brother to take you too soon.
• Letorak: Messenger of the underworld. A small black dragon with golden antlers. Whenever Kimorak takes a soul, they often have something to tell their loved ones. Something they didn't have the time or the courage to say in life. It is Letorak's task to convey these messages through dreams.
• Vhedurak: The white dragon who heals souls between death and rebirth, so they don't take wounds from one life to the next.
• Ohnarak: Craftsman of the underworld. A great yellow dragon who can make anything out of the riches of this realm.
• Vahirak: Builder of the underworld. A great brown dragon with antlers he can use to dig new caves or cover up old ones as needed.
• Voomarak and Vothorak: The great hunters keeping the underworld free of demons preying on scared souls. Two emerald dragon who can turn invisible. The younger brother Voomarak has golden horns and is also the patron of boys and unmarried men. The older brother Vothorak has great golden antlers and is also the patron of married men.
• Mokorak, Kaharak, Roporak and Sukorak: The four golden-headed red dragons guarding the entrances to the underworld. Mokorak has the ears and nose of a bat, Kaharak has four horns, Roporak great antlers and Sukorak the wings and head of a barn owl.
• Tathorak: The great beast, god of violence and bloodshed, the only dragon of this realm who is not a son of Räkimarak and Idaka. A huge gray dragon with three heads, three tails and three pairs of wings. The most powerful beast in the cosmos, but devoid of empathy or understanding. He is imprisoned at the second deepest, darkest point of the underworld, where he guards the only being living even deeper below, the Nameless One.

The boundaries. This is the realm of souls and spirits, dreams and nightmares, the skies and oceans and all waters deep and shallow. This domain has existed before time even began. It is endless and timeless.

• Kavijohka: The moon, a great silver dragon with glowing teal eyes. Sister of Räkimarak and goddess of wisdom, cunning and battle.
• Vellamun: The ocean, husband of Kavijohka, a great blue dragon with red eyes and golden patterns. God of the unknown and lord of all waters. Sometimes, he stretches his hands out to land, creating bogs and swamps.
• Lukilan: The morning star, son of Kavijohka and Vellamun. He is the lightbringer who gives people the power of sight. An azure dragon with emerald eyes and a golden morning star on every scale and a third eye on his forehead.
• Sojulan: The great traveller, son of Kavijohka and Vellamun, a black dragon with red eyes and the neck and wings of a black swan. He travels between the waters, land and air and protects all fellow travelers.
• Turikan: Lord of storms, thunder and lightning. The loudest and most unruly son of Kavijohka and Vellamun. A blue dragon with red eyes and a golden lightning pattern on his scales. His tail is like a hammer, hurling lightning bolts at the ground as he roars.
• Lumika: Goddess of magic, daughter of Kavijohka and Vellamun, a silver dragon with teals eyes and scales shimmering with polar lights. She continues in the footsteps of her mother.
• Ilunika: Goddess of grief, daughter of Kavijohka and Vellamun, a silver dragon with teal eyes and the neck and wings of a black swan. She travels to and from the world of the living and the dead to take the grief of letting go upon her. Whenever she crosses the boundary, she has to go through the ocean and that is where tears comes from. That is why they are salty.
• Avastaja: The great trickster. A shapeshifter, usually appearing with the attributes of a barn owl. Most often as an owl-headed human or a fox/dragon with the head and wings of an owl. The youngest child of Kavijohka and Vellamun who defies all boundaries, uses the powers of all his/her siblings (except for Ilunika, because Avastaja has standards) to protect the jesters and jokers. But he/she is also a scolar and explorer, who uses Lukilan's light to find new ways to mess with people.
• Aiwana: Wife of Avastaja and goddess of memory. A shapeshifter, usually taking the same shape as her husband/wife Avastaja. She paints everything she sees into the skies and caves of Amaria and lives in every single one of the most sacred objects of all Amaria, the fairy memory stones. But Avastaja is rubbing off on her and sometimes, she plays tricks on you.
• The Ashirana: Goddesses of the arts, each of which has its own Ashiran patron. One for painters, wood carvers, musicians and for storytellers.

The world of the living. This is our material world.

• Kadath: The sun, greatest of all dragons with shining golden scales and golden eyes. God of justice who sees all... during the day that is. At night, his sister Kavijohka rules and she has a different idea of justice. Sometimes, she tries to turn the day to night, causing an eclipse. But in the end, Kadath always wins these confrontations. Especially when people light fires and cheer him on.
• Inari: Mother nature, goddess of life and all plants and animals. A great green dragon with wings and a frill made of flowers. She provides all food, but only as long as nature is in balance. Unlike her husband Kadath, Inaro does not care about justice, only balance. Those who anger her are punished mercilessly, no matter how long it takes, sometimes more than they deserve.
• Ilmania: Goddess of healing, firstborn daughter of Kadath and Inari. She was the first fairy, a tall woman with long pointy ears. Her descendant, although far shorter, are still endowed with her healing powers and compassion.
• Vrila: Protector of the home and hearth, patron of married women and the goddess of affectionate familiar love between equals. Secondborn daughter of Kadath and Inari. A woman, always accompanied by a cat and carrying a sling. The weapon of a lady, which requires skill and finesse instead of strong arms and can be more deadly than a bow in the right hands.
• Aria: Protector of girls and unmarried women, goddess of erotic love. A young woman with hair reaching to her ankles. She often reincarnates among mortals for fun. That is why the Amarians do not look down on women looking for fun. They might be dealing with a goddess in disguise.
• Mahaseta: The great white mammoth, goddess of the old world of Varaki. She and Inari together created dogs to protect humanity from dangers of the material and other worlds. All forest elephants and mammoths are her children and as such, sacred. But she was not born a goddess. Mahaseta was born a human. When Avastaja wanted to prove to the others that the material world and humanity are worth preserving, he appeared to Mahaseta in the most terrifying form and ordered her to sacrifice one of her own children to him. But Mahaseta refused. First she begged for the lives of all her children, then she offered her own life instead and when Avastaja refused, she spat in his face. No punishment could be worse than having to murder your own child. With these words, Mahaseta ascended to godhood.
• Retaro: Son of Mahaseta, who became a god by his mother's love. A great white tiger with blue eyes. Guardian of Amaria, lord of the forests and god of the hunt.
• Red Lady and Blue Knight: Also known as the Blue Lady and Red Knight. A pair of lovers who find each other in every new life they are born into. Living as mortals, they are the paragons of loyalty for all Amarians.

Evil. This is not actually a domain, but a state of mind. A very lonely one.

• The Nameless One: God of Evil, who goes by many false names. He lures mortals in with impossible promises to make them do his bidding. The Nameless One orders blood sacrifice and the killing of those who disobey him. He demands to worshiped and praised every day and is jealous of all those gods who receive praise without asking for it. Thus, the Nameless One also seeks to be the only one. No matter the cost to everyone else or even himself.

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Context: I am currently working on a stone age fantasy novel and I'm sooo close to finishing it, but the last couple chapters are taking longer than expected. It's set on a forested island named Amaria\ at a time when people are making their first steps towards sedentary life and domestication** of plants and animals. Here is the pantheon I worked out for the Amarians.*
You can read my novel for free on Wattpad and Inkitt. I am planning to publish it on Royal Road too. If you know any other platform that might be good for fantasy stories, feel free to tell me.
\Amaria is short for "Amara Aria", which translates to "Gift of the gods/spirits". Aria means gift and Amara is the plural of Amar. The term Amar can not be literally translated into English. It's an umbrella term for all sorts of nature spirits, gods as well as entities one might compare to angels or saints. So it refers to a person with transcendent characteristics and always carries positive connotations.*
\*Dogs have been domesticated by the ancestors of the Amarians for tens of thousands of years already and are central to their culture. It is believed that they have the same souls as humans, so eating a dog would be considered cannibalism. So far the only other note on domestication I have in the books is the pruning of hazelnut trees to get more nuts. That's something I will change in later drafts. Nightshades will be far more important to the civilization emerging on Amaria in the coming millennia.*

I replaced the ball bearings in my bicycle's freehub recently and decided to take a spontaneous ride through the eastern German countryside to see if my repair had been worth the time. As I set out, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the flowers were blooming. It was a Sunday, so everyone and their grandmother was out cruising on their cumbersome E-bikes, their knees jutting out to both sides due to saddle heights optimized for pulling on the throttle instead of pedaling. This had the added benefit of taking up as much space as possible on the roadway. After self-righteously overtaking a group of beer-gutted mountain bikers, I was humbled by the sound of a wrench falling out of my saddlebag onto the cobbles that had shaken it loose. The group passed me by as I paced, head hung low, looking for the wrench. Another E-biker traveling in the other direction kindly stopped to help. After a short while, my wrench now found and firmly fastened, we went our separate ways.
Villages are often compact in Germany - you will breeze through wide-open fields and sparsely-developed forests before jarringly entering a 9ft-wide gauntlet with nothing but gapless concrete-colored house walls and wooden entrance gates on either side of you until you have made it through. That, and light-blue AfD (Alternative for Germany) election posters hung about 6-10ft up on lightposts. Going through these villages, you get the impression that the AfD is the established party and the others are the newcomers. I saw a single Die Linke (The Left) poster ("Those who must flee should find refuge!") on the ride; 70% were from the AfD and most of the rest were single-issue parties (animal rights, antisenescence research) or the glowie WerteUnion (Values Union). The AfD's slogans seemed to stick to a three-concept guideline: "Make construction easier!", "Agriculture instead of solar parks!". Another stuck out to me: "Re-imagine Europe!". I am a voteless immigrant along for the ride.
I did some reimagining of my route as my legs began to cramp, and I headed for the nearest city with a train station. I got on the Deutsche Bahn going home with two minutes to spare. By chance, a friend returning from a camping trip was also on the train, so I sat with him. I used to take the same train multiple times per month to visit my girlfriend years ago. Some things had changed: now an autistic German man will mutter something about coffee as he walks by - if you are quick, you can buy some. His son, sitting beside of the mobile coffee stand across from us, gave excited commentary to my friend's camping stories between playing something on his phone and secretly downing packets of sugar from the stand. A burly German woman checked our tickets - now, an even burlier, Central Asian bearded man with a security vest stood close behind her and watched for sudden moves. The Indian students and leopard-printed Eastern European women we shared the car with didn't make any trouble.
After another connection, I made it to my stop, got some American-style fried chicken from a Syrian restaurant and got a beer from a kiosk. The friendly tattooed German guy who used to work here has been replaced part-time by a disinterested Arab who can't be arsed to tell me the price out loud. Finally, I sat down to eat at home, but my enjoyment was interrupted by the angry buzzing of a Japanese hornet flying into the kitchen.

Years ago, before they discontinued the warhammer fantasy world, I used to be part of a forum ‘round table of Bretonnia’. Besides, being an amazing place for sharing the hobby we all love. It was also a place where they organised tournaments, pretty much with similar rules to Tilt and shared and wrote stories.
It was then, as roughly a 10 year old, I started writing Bretonnian narratives and did Warhammer Fantasy D&D sessions with my older brother, which is something I still do and enjoy doing.
When end times came out, this motivated me to write a somewhat different alternative to that narrative, that didn’t destroy the world completely.
The setting in short is: Bretonnian civil war, in which the narrative presented is written by the ‘victor’ but not quite what happened.
The empire shattered, with the death of an emperor and the resurrection of several vital undead characters.
The blowing up of parts of Ulthuan, with natural disasters as a result all over the old world, but most importantly a push back of chaos for now. So everything being just a little bit more sh*t than before. It’s roughly 166 pages now 😅, and have never shared any piece of really. Just wondered what types of alternative narratives you may have come up with?
(For those interested, this is a tiny bit of it:
The Tome of Landuin: This will be the year 979 by count of the Empire, and year one of the accursed lie, that will haunt my people. My name is Landuin de Mousillon, the first of my name and the last. Foul dreams haunt my mind, I see the doom of my land, the death of my people, and no ways to end their suffering. It has been three months since our conquest or reunification of Bretonnia. The tribes of our people have been united, under one crown, and one King. My friend Gilles has managed to find a common purpose for our people in the form of ‘the lady’. However, it is the greatest deceit of our time. My heart is heavy, my mind troubled, but my honour dictates I cannot move against my king, my friend, my brother. The lady, who has united Bretonnia under one king and deity, is false. I saw her, I saw her and Gilles on the edge of Athel Loren. Their loving relationship, which would not be seemly to a true goddess. I wish, I hadn’t stayed longer, but I did. Knowing the tongue of the Sylvan Elves I understood the name they called her: Lileath. I left not knowing my presence had been noticed. Since then, dreams of death, and doom have haunted me. There is no night I truly sleep, no day I truly live. I have seen these nightmares will haunt those of my decent. Sometimes stronger than with others. Lileath uses us to keep her true people safe. True magicians might be able to discover her deceit, that’s why she takes them when they’re young. Moulding them to her own wishes. Those that are against her, she strikes down. I have already seen the changes in my land. She is not protecting the lands of Bretonnia, at least not with great feet of strength. She is simply not corrupting it, however, Mousillon is not so lucky. The Mousillon flowers are blooming in abundance. Normally only seen at former battlefields due to the rot in the ground. She is evil, for she is rotting my land from the inside. Slowly rotting the soil, so it will go completely barren.
I cannot bring myself to bring forth this truth, for Gilles, having supped from her grail, is no longer capable of his own thoughts in regard to her divinity. He would doubt my words, before he would hers, which would only doom my people. For his wrath would be boundless, and so would hers. The words I wrote are like the coming of doom, be aware, your dreams will be haunted, as long as she remains, but also, she will try and guide you to your death.
The sword I leave here is the sword of the blazing sun, its light might guide your path, when you’re in darkness. Be not afraid, for although the lady is no longer with us, so will I be.)

I'm the same guy that posted that the Independent Order of Odd Fellows cemetery by Acker park was in disrepair and tried finding resources to help turn it around. Here's the link if anyone is interested. I'm still trying.
While walking through the cemetery I came across a gravestone marked "G.M. Robbins - The "End of the Trail" for "Yellowstone Pete" after 25,000 miles by mule train, may he rest in peace" and it got me interested in finding out more about the person. It turns out that Yellowstone Pete holds a place in Americana culture, and really did travel by mule train. There are several pictures linked here that have him, his wife, and mules. I'd love to hear more about him if anyone has more details.
Imgur album of photos I collected. The one that has "OH HOW WE HATE TO WORK" is a postcard that I ordered from Etsy while researching Yellowstone Pete.
There's even a poem about his only daughter.
Yellowstone Pete's Only Daughter was originally published in the book “Rhymes from a Round-up Camp, 1903, and written by Wallace David Coburn in 1894. The book of poetry has been published in 21 different editions. Coburn wrote the preface of the book in Malta, Montana.
Yes, this is the Milk River Valley,
And that's the old ranch that you see,
Where Yellowstone Pete lost his daughter,
The pride of the 7 U. P.
Was she pretty?-Well, stranger, your knowledge
Of these parts is shore incomplete,
When you ask such a comical question
'Bout the daughter of Yellowstone Pete.
Why, man! If the heavens were bluer,
And pansies were deeper in hue ,
They couldn't "size up" with her peepers,
Which shone like the spring poet's dew.
Her teeth were like snowdrops made whiter,
Her hair like the sealskin she wore,
Only softer and silkier and browner,
And she was true blue to the core.
Was old Yellowstone Pete's only daughter,
Whose voice was the envy of birds,
As she warbled at night to the long-horns,
Or when pointing her father's trail herds.
She was happy and good and as loving
As an angel could possibly be,
With always a smile and a greeting,
For tough old cow-punchers like me.
But what I was startin' to narrate,
Before you cut into the game,
Was a love affair she tangled up in,
And the tragical end of the same.
You see, she was borned in this country,
Her mother, a woman of gold,
Kissed her baby and lined out for Heaven,
When Beauty was seven days old.
The boys, you see, nicknamed her "Beauty,"
And each one, he fought for his turn
At feedin' her out of the bottle,
But dress her -- we never could learn.
So Pete he sent off for a nurse girl
And a teacher (not stunning for looks),
To give her the care of a woman,
And learn her the knowledge of books.
Thus Beauty grew up at the home ranch,
And learned how to shore ride and shoot,
Also play and sing on the pianer,
And to tie down a wild steer to boot.
And charming-- why, partner, the sunbeams
They scrapped for the sweets of her face,
And the alkali dust and the zephyrs
They jockeyed to get second place.
So was it a wonder young Dawson,
The son of a neighbor of Pete,
Lost his heart to this rose of the prairie,
And his love for her couldn't be beat?
“Buck"-- that was the handle he went by,
Had pre-empted some learnin' at school,
Was a handsome and big, manly feller,
And in a gun-fight was shore cool.
And there wasn't no man round the country,
Could ride with him down the Red Lane,
He could rope, fork, and ride with clean saddle
Any outlaw that ever wore mane.
They'd been youngsters and brought up together,
And Dawson was shorely dead game,
His father a wealthy old-timer,
All burdened with early-day fame.
Yes, Beauty loved "Buck," that was certain,
But a gal's ways are never foreseen,
And you can't tell what's liable to happen
Be-tween the betwixt and between.
So when a young feller from college
Comes a-romancin' like out this way,
Well, things looked a little promiscuous,
And there was the devil to pay.
Of course, he was welcomed by Beauty,
As the flowers are welcomed in May;
His college pin pleased her, I reckon,
And he had a girl-catchin' way.
But wait till I roll me a smoke, pard,
To filter my bad feelin's down,
Makes me wanter shore squander some powder
When I ponder on that sneakin' houn'.
Well, we was all out on the round-up,
When this college masher, you see,
Ran off with old Yellowstone's daughter,
The pride of the 7 U. P.
Now, old Pete he shore worshipped his daughter,
Loved her better than money or life,
For she was the pride of his old age--
The gift of his beautiful wife.
So he and young Dawson together,
With hearts like the lead in their guns,
Hit the trail of this college-bred villain,
And secured him before many suns.
The gal they found up in Butte City­-
He'd deserted her up there, you know;
But Dawson caught him near the border,
Where numerous cottonwoods grow.
And there, in the depths of the forest,
With the beasts and the birds lookin' on,
They fought to the death with their bowies,
Till the Eastern-bred feller was gone.
And Beauty-- she married "Buck" after,
But never seemed happy or gay,
Like the Beauty we'd worshipped from childhood,­-
She just drooped, shrunk, and withered away.
Yes, she paled like the flowers in summer,
And died with the leaves in the fall ;
And we buried her close to her mother,
While the sunshine went out of us all.
Poor old Pete, his hair white as the snowdrift,
And eyes that stare vacant and old,
Sits and sobs at the foot of two gravestones,
All alone, whether hot days or cold.
All alone? No, for Buck often joins him,
Grim and stern, with his face like a stone;
Never smiling nowdays like he used to,
When he tries he winds up with a moan.
No, the sun don't shine quite as it used to,
And the wind has a lonesomer sound,
As it sings soft and mournful in summer,
And howls when old winter comes round.
Here are the links to original photos:
https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/yellowstone-pete-passes-through-yellowstone-pete-news-photo/161995779
https://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/rppc-goldie-marion-robbins-aka-1904877006
https://www.phillipscountynews.com/story/2016/09/14/news/yellowstone-petes-only-daughte4302.html
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/52400720/goldie-marion-robbins/photo

I was doing some digging around about the meaning of Cryo and it’s “ideal”, and stumbled across a few interesting connections. I am not sure if anyone else has found these connections already (from a quick check) – I tend to only hop on here when I have a crazy theory I want to share. Hopefully I am not rehashing something that's already been covered!
The main theory is that the power of Cryo, like Anemo, is related to Time.
To be more specific, I think Cryo may be the power that creates the "Seeds" that are carried by "the winds of time".
I came across this idea when trying to look into the "ideal" of Cryo.
From what we have seen in the game, all elements are tied to an “ideal”, and each “ideal” is tied to a deeper meaning connected to the world itself. To give some brief examples:

• Anemo – freedom, time and perhaps Death
• Geo – Contracts(perhaps between mortal and divine?) and perhaps history.
• Electro – Eternity and what is eternal, and Change is eternal or constant.
• Dendro – Wisdom, memories and knowledge through experience.
• Hydro – Justice, life and emotion.
• Pyro – War and rebirth and the erasure of memories (as seen from Arlecchino).

From what we know, it seems like the Cryo Archon’s ideal is likely to have been “Love”. So what deeper meaning does “Love” mean and how does it relate to ice or “Cryo”?
And then from there I kind of spiralled!
The main theory here is explained in the first two sections, and the rest of the sections I try and use this theory to explain other mysteries in the game. Those sections might be heavier in speculation.
The Meaning of Cryo
While I'm not sure I have a concrete “meaning” or understanding of Cryo yet, I came across a few interesting themes surrounding the Cryo Element:

• The descriptions of both the Large Cryo Slime and Cryo Abyss Mage mention their protective shields, despite the fact that similar enemies don’t mention this in their description (Geo Slime and other Abyss Mages)
• The Cryo Abyss Mage description also says that their body is vulnerable (hence its need for protection).
• Cryo Hypostasis gameplay has the Hypostasis create a shield while it is healing (protection while vulnerable)
• Tiara of Frost artefact description: “facing fatal flaws. Fatal flaws are born of a fear of death. Fear of death is born of having things and people to care about” (Fatal flaws are the “vunerability” to protect?)
• Tiara of Frost artefact description: “life as weak, and earth blanketed in unending ice” (weakness is a vulnerability – and also I am not sure if the ice is a bad thing here, perhaps the ice was meant to protect the “weak” life?)
• The Spirit Locket Of Boreas description mentions that Andrius let his power seep into the land to “protect” it.
• Childe who is from Shneznaya says “it’s all about family where I am from” (family and love are easy to relate to each other)
• Qiqi Vision Story: Qiqi has a Cryo Vision and apparently before she received it she missed her family.

To summarise, there seems to be themes of protection(perhaps preservation?),family, and vulnerability.
Thematically I can see the ties between these – we love our family(typically) and want to protect them, and the things we protect can be seen as our vulnerability(and/or, we protect things that are vulnerable).
So "love" inspires us to "protect".
Love and it's connection to "protection" is an important part of this theory.
Cryo and Time
There are a few instances in descriptions where both ice/snow/Cryo and time are mentioned together.

• Qiqi Vision story: before receiving her Cryo vision (while she was dying or on the verge of dying), Qiqi wished that time could stop.
• Cryo Hypotasis drop, the Crystalline Bloom, says: “Perhaps it is stagnant time, that never-thawing bosom, that is the essence of this undying flower.”
• Blizzard Strayer artefact set, Frozen Homeland’s Demise, says: “An ancient hourglass with fine powdered snow flowing in it. Even the coldest winter cannot freeze the flow of time. "The cold that descends from the sky can freeze time itself."
  • To me, this might be drawing a distinction between ice and “Cryo”. Like how Hydro and water are not considered the same thing because Hydro is toxic, as seen in the description of Hydro slimes. So normal winters can’t freeze time but perhaps Cryo can?

Furthermore:

• We are able to melt frozen boars in game and when melted, they are completely fine. It seems that they were literally “frozen in time”.
• We also have that quest with Xiangling, where we find Olaf who was frozen by a Cryo Regisvine 300 years ago - and seems to have survived this process unscathed. He effectively time travelled from the past to the future.

So overall, there seems to be a lot of talk about “freezing time”, and it seems like freezing a living organism can preserve them in a way that doesn't kill them (like in real life).
We have seen how Cryo might be related to the idea of “protection” as well, or perhaps preservation?.
So perhaps we can say that the Cryo element seems to be able to "protect" things from the flow of time?
“Seeds of stories, brought by the wind and cultivated by time. Stories brought on the wind will bloom into legends in due time.” - Sundial in Mondstadt related to the God of Time.
In this quote above, it says that “seeds” are brought by the wind/Anemo.
But what are these “seeds”?
While I can’t say exactly what they are, I think that perhaps these “seeds” are at least partially created through the powers of Cryo.
I came to this conclusion after looking at the themes that surround Cryo: love, protection and vulnerability.
These themes, to me, seem to apply perfectly to the concept or function of “seeds”.
A seed tends to need a protective shell, to shield the “vulnerable” parts within.
A seed waits for the correct conditions to sprout, remaining dormant otherwise.
This dormancy can be seen as being “frozen in time”. A seed is effectively “frozen in time” and won’t sprout until the correct conditions are met. This power of protection from time being related to Cryo may be similiar to how the power of Dendro is related to the power of dreams.
Also, remember that when asked about the Cryo Archon, Venti said that “500 years ago, I knew her well.”?
Sure, they are both Archons, but perhaps they were also close because either 1) they both served the God of Time or 2)Cryo Archon is a god of time (perhaps less likely, though).
So the “seeds” frozen in time and/or protected from time, by Cryo, are then carried by the winds of Anemo, to the correct moments that allow them to sprout.
The Love of the Three Moons
This part gets a little more speculative, but fun!
So the three Moon Sisters are suspected to be possible Gods of Time, and also seemed to rule over the Seelie in some capacity.
Love seems related to the fall of the Seelie – as the Seelie seemed to have been forbidden from falling in love with humans. It was after one of the Seelie married a “traveller from afar” that the Seelie fell – some catastrophe struck as a result, soon after this “marriage”.
With the added context that love possibly means or results in the protection from time – that could explain why falling in love with a human was seen as bad. Abusing your powers to protect a human from time sounds bad, for sure.
And maybe, just maybe, the “love” the Seelie had were finite in some way? Which would explain why they couldn’t dish it out to humans freely. Maybe, they had none of this “protection” left over for themselves after giving it away… leaving them to deteriorate and become the lifeforms we see them in today?
In fact, if this is true, then the Seelie gave their love to a “Traveller from afar” which sounds like it could have been an entity similar to the Traveller. The Traveller is said to be a star themselves.
What’s interesting about that is both the Abyss Sibling and the Travellers are stars, and they are possibly very old. In fact, in the We Will Be Reunited quest, the Abyss Sibling tells the Traveller that “I have more than enough time to wait for you, we’ve always had enough time.”
While this seems to be hinting that they have a lot of time, not necessarily immunity from time, it is interesting when you remember that the book Moonlit Bambo Forest says that the Moon Sisters “shared but one love, the stars of daybreak”.
If love is the protection from time, then it could mean that the twins have gained an immunity from the flow of time. Time does not affect them – as they have received the love of the Moon Sisters, who are possibly Gods of Time.
Khaenri’ah, Dainsleif and the Inteyvat
While the pure-blooded Khaenri’ahns are cursed with Immortality, they still seem to be under the effects of time. They don’t seem to be immune.
They seem to still be undergoing some sort of decay – whether it be their memories, mental state, or decaying “from within” (As Chlothar speculates).
HOWEVER – remember how Dainsleif said that he was able to resist the effects of his curse due to the presence of “it”? It was somewhere in the Chasm questline, where he was unsure how the Black Serpent Knights were able to retain some of their humanity without “it”.
Perhaps Dainsleif has also received the “love” of a Seelie/Moon SisteTime god (or whatever the Cryo Archon actually is)?
In fact, now I am wondering if this is also related to the Inteyvat flower, which would harden when In Teyvat, and then return to normal when back in Khaenri’ah.
Khaenri’ah might be located somewhere in the Abyss, and the Abyss seems to have a strange flow of time, after all.
So it might not be too far of a stretch that the Inteyvat flowers are also “protected from time” with this power of love/Cryo until the flower returns to the correct “time” – Khaenri’ah. Though that would also mean that Khaenri’ah is located in a different place in time – in the future or the past, which would be interesting. But probably not impossible from what we have seen in Ei’s second story quest and the Perilous Trails Chasm quest.
Possible Links between Paimon and the Tsaritsa
So there seems to be possible links between the element of Cryo, love, and protection.
The God of Cryo, who is potentially the God of Love and, by extension, potentially the God of Protection…hm.
Remember the “About Yashiori Island” voice lines?
In those voice lines, Paimon claims to be the “god of protection”.
Sure she seems cheeky about it, and was probably joking, but who knows at this point! She might have remembered something subconsciously or this may just be foreshadowing, etc, etc.
Either way, I started digging around to see if I can find any mythological links in real life.
A few interesting things I found:

• Aphrodite, the greek goddess of love, according to some myths, was born from sea foam. And we first met Paimon after we fished her out of the sea.
• Aphrodite seems to be related to the Cherubs (She mothered Eros, who together with its roman equivalent Cupid, influenced the iconography of the Cherubs) and apparently Paimon in the Ars Goetia might have been a Cherub (at least according to Wikipedia).
  
• Paimon in the Ars Goetia could “bestow dignities and lordships”. Genshin Paimon gives people nicknames – but the Tsaritsa bestows “new names” upon her Harbingers. Maybe a coincidence, but you could say that both of them “bestow dignities and lordships”.
  
• Paimon in the Ars Goetia is said to be able to create “visions” (as in dreams) and we do know the Tsaritsa’s Fatui have Delusions, which are fake Visions.
  
• Paimon in the Ars Goetia is also said to have the power of “acquiring and dismissing servant spirits” –perhaps the Fatui Harbingers?
  

I’ve already made a theory previously on this subreddit about the Tsaritsa and the Moon Sisters. So if Paimon is also related to the Seelies and/or Moon Sisters, perhaps these connections between her and the Tsaritsa is not too strange if the theory about Cryo and time are true.
In fact, the goddess Hathor is said to be the Egyptian version of Aphrodite, god of love, and from reading the wikipedia page, Hathor seems very similar to the Goddess of Flowers – who was a Seelie - and the Seelie served the Moon Sisters, who may have been gods of Time.
There isn’t much more for me to say here – I am not saying that Paimon and Tsaritsa are the same person, but just that I find it interesting that there may be some overlaps between the two characters. I can’t say for sure what this overlap means. Maybe Paimon is a fragment of the Tsaritsa, maybe Paimon was a servant of the God of Time along with the Tsaritsa, maybe Paimon is the God of Time and is therefore the Tsaritsa’s boss. Who knows. Just interesting.
Time and the Preservation of Memories
In the Parable of the Lethied Lotus in the Book of Sun and Moon, it says:
"A ship captain searching for the way back to the surface discovered a tribe of people who ate these lotuses. Some crew members stayed in that place. Others rejected that temptation."
In this story, staying where people ate these lotuses is said to be a "temptation". The title of this Parable described the lotuses as "lethied" which is related to the Lethe river of greek mythology, where drinking from it causes you to "forget". In other words, forgetting is a temptation they wanted to avoid.
This is in the same book that mentions the God of Time, and Enkanomiya, where they worshipped the God of Time.
Now, Ganyu, a Cryo character, uses Amos Bow, and the literal translation of this weapon, according to the wiki, is "Determination to Not Forget".
So perhaps this power of "protection" can also protect memories.
Since time causes memories to "fade" (best example, Dainsleif's own faded memory due to his long life) then perhaps this power of time immunity can also be used on memories.
TLDR:
Cryo protects things from time, and those things are then carried by Anemo. Cryo seems to have the ability to freeze things in time (possibly), or in other words, to protect them from the flow of time. The Tsaritsa, as the Cryo Archon, may have a deeper relationship to the God of Time (or she is a god of time – if you think that there are multiple aspects that rule different types of time).
There are also some interesting possible connections between Paimon and the Tsaritsa, which, if they are both related to the god of time, makes sense.
The twins may have also received some sort of protection of time, since they are stars and the Moon sisters loved the stars of daybreak.
Also this might also be related to Dainsleif and his ability to resist his curse somewhat, and Inteyvat flowers.
And this "protection from time" may also be used to preserve more intangible things - like memories.
Discussion/Conclusion
So what does “Love” mean in the world of Teyvat?
In Genshin, the power of Cryo, and therefore the power of love, may be the power to protect things from the flow of time. It protects things from the flow of time, creating a "seed", and that seed stays dormant or "frozen in time" until its the perfect moment for those things to “sprout”.
If true, this calls a lot of things into question.
The Tsaritsa’s plans to possible recreate the world may also link back to this idea of “seeds” – she may blanket the world in snow to make it a “seed” for the next world.
I also think that if this is true, then it is quite poetic that Shneznaya – the land of the Cryo Archon – is the last region in Teyvat we visit (Khaenri’ah probably/possibly not being counted as “in Teyvat” if its located in the Abyss).
Anemo also seems to signify death in some ways (Venti’s Story Quest), and if Cryo is related to the concept of “seeds”, then Cryo represents life or birth.
“Seeds brought on the wind will bloom into legends in due time.”
Anemo is death, and is the wind that carries the seeds, and Cryo is birth, the creation of the seeds.
We started the game in the land of Anemo, of wind, and death – we started our journey in the land of “endings” and, if this theory holds true, then the last place we’ll visit in Teyvat will be the land of Cryo, of ice, seeds, and birth.
We started at the end, and will end at the start.
That is more or less it. I hope you all enjoyed reading my descent into madness! Hopefully not too wordy as I have trouble making things concise and I was getting real tired towards the end of this ha ha. What do you guys think? I would love to hear any thoughts or input, or even corrections if I got some things wrong.

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

I have___
AFRO:

• Keinemusik - Out Of Touch
• Drake - Confusion ( Keinemusik Remix )
• Drake - A Keeper (Keinemusik Remix)
• The Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition ( Keinemusik Remix )
• Fortress - Diplo ( Rampa Remix )
• Uncle Waffles - Tanzânia (Rampa Remix)
• Toto - Africa (Rampa Edit)
• Together - Janet Jackson (Rampa Remix)
• Zouk Machine - Maldon (Rampa Edit)
• France Gall - Ella, elle l'a (Rampa Remix)
• Busta, Rampa, Black Coffeee - Mamakusa
• Go Low L.A.X (Rampa Edit)
• &Me, Rampa - Tong 4 (Original Mix)
• Travis Scott - Butterfly (&Me Remix)
• Feel - ABRA (&ME & Sasha Tigresa Edit)
• Ilanga - Masšh (&Me Edit)
• Lakou Mizik, Joseph Ray - Samba Yo Pan Pale (&Me Remix)
• Da Africa Deep - Humans (&ME edit)
• CUT Off (&Me) (16khz)
• Marssi, Adam Port feat. Ninae - All I Got
• Joris Voorn - Homeland feat. Matthew Dear (&Me Remix) {Jinadu Vocal Edit}
• Aba - Fell (&Me remix)
• Simian Mobile Disco - Caught In A Wave (&ME Remix)
• Adam Port, Massi, Ninae - All I Got
• Adam Port, Chris IDH & Adassiya - By Myself
• Keinemusik - Muye (Enoo Napa Remix)
• Daughter of the Sun (Ankhoï Remix)
• Ankhoï - Sandiya
• Ankhoï - Clound
• Ankhoï - No sleep
• Ankhoï - Corazon
• Ankhoï - After All Night Shift
• Tato - Merah
• Tato - Juremas Flower
• Alegria - ARYMÉ & OSFUR ( Chris IDH Remix )
• Chris IDH - 7 nation
• Victor Alc - Essamina
• Victor Alc - I Know You Know
• Victor Alc - Hangin Tree
• Victor Alc - Alma
• Victor Alc - Sudamérica
• Victor Alc - Boreal
• Victor Alc, Murilo Tronco - Forma De Querer
• Carlita, Mojoo - Havana
• Outkast - Ms. Jackson (Moojo Remix)
• Coco, Joezi, Pape Diouf - 7 Seconds (Moojo Remix)
• Michael Jackson - Billy Late Jean ( Moojo Edit )
• Moojo, Demeya - Hot N fun
• Moojo - Atitude
• Moojo ft Gabsy - Ze Roberto
• Moojo - I Whant Your Soul
• Moojo - GTA
• Moojo - Meditation
• Moojo - Giant Ft. Awen
• Cairo - Here We Are (Moojo Remix)
• Moojo - Oui
• Rihana - Stay (Moojo Remix)
• Moojo ft Starving yet Full - Limitless Vocal Version
• Moojo,Da Capo - What U Desaire (Vocal Mix)
• Post Malone - I Fall Apart (Moojo Remix)
• Drake - A KEEPER (Moojo Remix)
• &friends, Joseph (CH) - Jackie Brown
• &friends, Lily’s Mandre - Blending Love
• &Friends - Oya Jo (16khz)
• Abdel Kader - Monte Rougue
• Love Me Back (Raffa Guido Remix)
• Valeron, Payment & Klaudia Touch Me (Sam (GR) Children Touch)
• Marten Lou - Better Days
• Vxision - Love Preparetions (Slow Down Edit)
• Classy 101 (Vxision, Maz Remix)
• Empire Of The Sun- Walking On A Dream Vxision Remix)
• Jovem Dionisio - Pontos de Exclamação (VXSION Remix)
• Rui Da Silva - Touch Me (Peace Control Remix)
• Drake - Sticky (Peace Control Remix)
• ROUTE 94, Jesse Glynne - My Love (Alex Wann Remix)
• FCLT - Fell It’s You (Alex Wann remix)
• Zhu - Faded (Alex Wann Remix)
• Alright - Red Carpet (Kashovski & Abel Ray Remix)
• Sérgio Mendes - Mas Que Nada (Ahmed Spins Edit)
• ANOTR, Abel Balder - Vertigo (Carlita Remix)
• Kura - Sentir Saudade (Guapo, Antdot Remix)
• Drake - Finesse (Antdot Remix)
• Peaty - 6pm In Casablanca
• Peaty - KILOSA (Afro Melodic Mix)
• Black Cofee, David Guetta - Drive (Da Capo Remix)
• Empire Of The Sun- Walking On A Dream (Da Capo Remix)
• Michael Jackson - Billy Jean (Da Capo Remix)
• Coco, Joezi, Pape Diouf - 7 Seconds (Da Capo Remix)
• CamelPhat - Home (Samm (BE) & Ajna (BE) Remix)
• Super Flu - Lovesong
• David Mackay, Dela Sur - Carnaval Breve
• Dj Yellow, Flowers And Sea Creatures - No One Gets Left Behind (BLOND.ISH Beirut Edit)
• Moderat, Keinemusik - More Love (Kalidon Mykonos Mashup)
• Roy Rosenfeld & Sébastien Léger - ID {Played by Keinemusik} (16khz)

MELODIC:

• Adam Ten - Kepler
• Adam Ten - Deep Love
• Adam Ten - Carovana
• Adam Tem -3 Days (16khz)
• Quentin Harris - Warning (Adam Ten & Mita Gami Re-Edit)
• Mita Gami - Danger
• Pink Floyd - Confortably Numb (Mita Gami Sunrise Edit)
• Solique - Heat Of The Moment
• Solique - Mood In The Jungle
• Ego Maria - T Mapper Native
• Ego Maria, Toto Chiavetta - Cells Under Attack
• Tal Fussman - North
• Tal Fussaman - Sam Shure - Inferno
• Tal Fussaman - Childrem Of 95 (V3 Instrumental)
• OPUS III - It's A Fine Day (Aera's Finite Edit)
• Amê - Mifune (Dixon Acustic Edit)
• Jimi Jules - Palpitations
• Jimi Jules - Run (FT Remix)
• Schneider TM, Kptmichigan - The Light 3000 (Aera Private Edit)
• AIKON, Sobek - Burning Hats (Dixon Edit)
• Kavinsky - Nightcall (Dixon's Private Edit)
• Maind Against - Love Seeking
• Maind Against - Hydra
• Chis Bake - Ride (Mind Against Remix)
• Mathame - There Is The Light
• Mathame - Brothers
• Ae:ther, Mind Against - Black Museum
• Ae:ther, Marino Canal - White Atlas V2
• Artbat - Dark Knight
• Yet More - Don't Let Go
• MGMT - Eletric Feel (Ivory’s Eletric Reshape)
• Amber Run - I Found (Ivory's Re-Found Edit)
• Billie Eilish - Everything I Wanted (Ivory Head Underwater Remix)
• Christopher Cross - Ride Like The Wind (Ivory’s On The Run Edit)
• Ivory (IT), Tal Fussman - Labyrinth
• Ivory - Identity
• Ivory - Lovers Hymn
• Ivory - Mirrors
• Ivory - Eye Blink
• Ivory - Jewel
• Ivory - Acid Rain
• Ivory - Conquest Of Space
• Ivory - Upon A Time
• Fideles - Lost In Town
• Hard To Tell - No Matter
• Hard To Tell - Stranger
• Aera - Pullunder
• Aera - Puzzle Emotivo
• Echonomist - Overseas
• Skepta - Bullet from a Gun (Colyn Private Edit)
• Depeche Mode - Enjoy The Silence (Will Clark Remix)
• London Grammar - Hey Now (Cristoph Private Mix)
• Opus III- Fine Night (Cristoph's Private Edit)
• Nelly Furtado - Say it Right (Adana Twins Remix)
• RY X & Frank Wiedemann - Howling (Tinlicker Prague Edit)
• The XX - Fiction (Eagles & Butterflies Remix)
• Massive Attack - Teardrop (Antony Toga Remix)
• Cassius - The Sound Of Violence (Antony Toga Background DiscoVox Version)
• Sting - Desert Rose (SOEL Remix)
• Starsailor - Four to the floor (Mångata Projekt Rework)
• Sin Cos Tan - Destroyer (Adriatique Remix)
• Anna Caragnano - Parola (Erly Tepshi Edit)
• Yotam Avni - Island Hopper (Franky & Sandrino Remix)
• Rebuke - Along Came Polly (Konstantin Sibold, Zac, Carmee Remix)
• Armin Van Buuren - Yet Another Day (8Kays Remix)

IHave
AFRO:

• Drake - Confusion ( Keinemusik Remix )
• The Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition ( Keinemusik Remix )
• Fortress - Diplo ( Rampa Remix )
• Uncle Waffles - Tanzânia (Rampa Remix)
• Toto - Africa (Rampa Edit)
• Together - Janet Jackson (Rampa Remix)
• Zouk Machine - Maldon (Rampa Edit)
• France Gall - Ella, elle l'a (Rampa Remix)
• Busta, Rampa, Black Coffeee - Mamakusa
• Go Low L.A.X (Rampa Edit)
• &Me, Rampa - Tong 4 (Original Mix)
• Travis Scott - Butterfly (&Me Remix)
• Feel - ABRA (&ME & Sasha Tigresa Edit)
• Ilanga - Masšh (&Me Edit)
• Lakou Mizik, Joseph Ray - Samba Yo Pan Pale (&Me Remix)
• Da Africa Deep - Humans (&ME edit)
• CUT Off (&Me) (16khz)
• Marssi, Adam Port feat. Ninae - All I Got
• Joris Voorn - Homeland feat. Matthew Dear (&Me Remix) {Jinadu Vocal Edit}
• Aba - Fell (&Me remix)
• Simian Mobile Disco - Caught In A Wave (&ME Remix)
• Adam Port, Massi, Ninae - All I Got
• Adam Port, Chris IDH & Adassiya - By Myself
• Keinemusik - Muye (Enoo Napa Remix)
• Daughter of the Sun (Ankhoï Remix)
• Ankhoï - Sandiya
• Ankhoï - Clound
• Ankhoï - No sleep
• Ankhoï - Corazon
• Ankhoï - After All Night Shift
• Tato - Merah
• Tato - Juremas Flower
• Alegria - ARYMÉ & OSFUR ( Chris IDH Remix )
• Chris IDH - 7 nation
• Victor Alc - Essamina
• Victor Alc - I Know You Know
• Victor Alc - Hangin Tree
• Victor Alc - Alma
• Victor Alc - Sudamérica
• Victor Alc, Murilo Tronco - Forma De Querer
• Carlita, Mojoo - Havana
• Outkast - Ms. Jackson (Moojo Remix)
• Coco, Joezi, Pape Diouf - 7 Seconds (Moojo Remix)
• Michael Jackson - Billy Late Jean ( Moojo Edit )
• Moojo, Demeya - Hot N fun
• Moojo - Atitude
• Moojo ft Gabsy - Ze Roberto
• Moojo - I Whant Your Soul
• Moojo - GTA
• Moojo - Giant Ft. Awen
• Cairo - Here We Are (Moojo Remix)
• Moojo - Oui
• Rihana - Stay (Moojo Remix)
• Moojo ft Starving yet Full - Limitless Vocal Version
• Moojo,Da Capo - What U Desaire (Vocal Mix)
• Post Malone - I Fall Apart (Moojo Remix)
• Drake - A KEEPER (Moojo Remix)
• &friends, Joseph (CH) - Jackie Brown
• &friends, Lily’s Mandre - Blending Love
• &Friends - Oya Jo (16khz)
• Abdel Kader - Monte Rougue
• Love Me Back (Raffa Guido Remix)
• Valeron, Payment & Klaudia Touch Me (Sam (GR) Children Touch)
• Marten Lou - Better Days
• Vxision - Love Preparetions (Slow Down Edit)
• Classy 101 (Vxision, Maz Remix)
• Empire Of The Sun- Walking On A Dream Vxision Remix)
• Jovem Dionisio - Pontos de Exclamação (VXSION Remix)
• Rui Da Silva - Touch Me (Peace Control Remix)
• Drake - Sticky (Peace Control Remix)
• ROUTE 94, Jesse Glynne - My Love (Alex Wann Remix)
• FCLT - Fell It’s You (Alex Wann remix)
• Zhu - Faded (Alex Wann Remix)
• Alright - Red Carpet (Kashovski & Abel Ray Remix)
• Sérgio Mendes - Mas Que Nada (Ahmed Spins Edit)
• ANOTR, Abel Balder - Vertigo (Carlita Remix)
• Kura - Sentir Saudade (Guapo, Antdot Remix)
• Drake - Finesse (Antdot Remix)
• Peaty - 6pm In Casablanca
• Peaty - KILOSA (Afro Melodic Mix)
• Black Cofee, David Guetta - Drive (Da Capo Remix)
• Empire Of The Sun- Walking On A Dream (Da Capo Remix)
• Michael Jackson - Billy Jean (Da Capo Remix)
• Coco, Joezi, Pape Diouf - 7 Seconds (Da Capo Remix)
• Super Flu - Lovesong
• David Mackay, Dela Sur - Carnaval Breve
• Moderat, Keinemusik - More Love (Kalidon Mykonos Mashup)
• Roy Rosenfeld & Sébastien Léger - ID {Played by Keinemusik} (16khz)

MELODIC:

• Adam Ten - Kepler
• Adam Ten - Deep Love
• Adam Ten - Carovana
• Adam Tem -3 Days (16khz)
• Quentin Harris - Warning (Adam Ten & Mita Gami Re-Edit)
• Mita Gami - Danger
• Pink Floyd - Confortably Numb (Mita Gami Sunrise Edit)
• Solique - Heat Of The Moment
• Solique - Mood In The Jungle
• Ego Maria - T Mapper Native
• Ego Maria, Toto Chiavetta - Cells Under Attack
• Tal Fussman - North
• Tal Fussaman - Sam Shure - Inferno
• Tal Fussaman - Childrem Of 95 (V3 Instrumental)
• OPUS III - It's A Fine Day (Aera's Finite Edit)
• Amê - Mifune (Dixon Acustic Edit)
• Jimi Jules - Palpitations
• Jimi Jules - Run (FT Remix)
• Schneider TM, Kptmichigan - The Light 3000 (Aera Private Edit)
• AIKON, Sobek - Burning Hats (Dixon Edit)
• Kavinsky - Nightcall (Dixon's Private Edit)
• Maind Against - Love Seeking
• Maind Against - Hydra
• Chis Bake - Ride (Mind Against Remix)
• Mathame - There Is The Light
• Mathame - Brothers
• Ae:ther, Mind Against - Black Museum
• Ae:ther, Marino Canal - White Atlas V2
• Artbat - Dark Knight
• Yet More - Don't Let Go
• MGMT - Eletric Feel (Ivory’s Eletric Reshape)
• Amber Run - I Found (Ivory's Re-Found Edit)
• Billie Eilish - Everything I Wanted (Ivory Head Underwater Remix)
• Christopher Cross - Ride Like The Wind (Ivory’s On The Run Edit)
• Ivory (IT), Tal Fussman - Labyrinth
• Ivory - Identity
• Ivory - Lovers Hymn
• Ivory - Mirrors
• Ivory - Eye Blink
• Ivory - Jewel
• Ivory - Acid Rain
• Ivory - Conquest Of Space
• Ivory - Upon A Time
• Fideles - Lost In Town
• Hard To Tell - No Matter
• Hard To Tell - Stranger
• Aera - Pullunder
• Aera - Puzzle Emotivo
• Echonomist - Overseas
• Skepta - Bullet from a Gun (Colyn Private Edit)
• Depeche Mode - Enjoy The Silence (Will Clark Remix)
• London Grammar - Hey Now (Cristoph Private Mix)
• Opus III- Fine Night (Cristoph's Private Edit)
• Nelly Furtado - Say it Right (Adana Twins Remix)
• RY X & Frank Wiedemann - Howling (Tinlicker Prague Edit)
• The XX - Fiction (Eagles & Butterflies Remix)
• Massive Attack - Teardrop (Antony Toga Remix)
• Cassius - The Sound Of Violence (Antony Toga Background DiscoVox Version)
• Starsailor - Four to the floor (Mångata Projekt Rework)
• Sin Cos Tan - Destroyer (Adriatique Remix)
• Anna Caragnano - Parola (Erly Tepshi Edit)
• Yotam Avni - Island Hopper (Franky & Sandrino Remix)
• Rebuke - Along Came Polly (Konstantin Sibold, Zac, Carmee Remix)
• Armin Van Buuren - Yet Another Day (8Kays Remix)

I have __ * Daughter of the Sun (Ankhoï Remix) * Ankhoï - Sandiya * Ankhoï - Clound * Ankhoï - No sleep * Ankhoï - Corazon * Ankhoï - After All Night Shift * Tato - Merah * Tato - Juremas Flower * Alegria - ARYMÉ & OSFUR ( Chris IDH Remix ) * Chris IDH - 7 nation * Victor Alc - Essamina * Victor Alc - I Know You Know * Victor Alc - Hangin Tree * Victor Alc - Alma * Victor Alc - Sudamérica * Victor Alc, Murilo Tronco - Forma De Querer * Carlita, Mojoo - Havana * Outkast - Ms. Jackson (Moojo Remix) * Coco, Joezi, Pape Diouf - 7 Seconds (Moojo Remix) * Michael Jackson - Billy Late Jean ( Moojo Edit ) * Moojo, Demeya - Hot N fun * Moojo - Atitude * Moojo ft Gabsy - Ze Roberto * Moojo - I Whant Your Soul * Moojo - GTA * Moojo - Giant Ft. Awen * Cairo - Here We Are (Moojo Remix) * Moojo - Oui * Rihana - Stay (Moojo Remix) * Moojo ft Starving yet Full - Limitless Vocal Version * Moojo,Da Capo - What U Desaire (Vocal Mix) * Post Malone - I Fall Apart (Moojo Remix) * Drake - A KEEPER (Moojo Remix) * &friends, Joseph (CH) - Jackie Brown * &friends, Lily’s Mandre - Blending Love * &Friends - Oya Jo (16khz) * Abdel Kader - Monte Rougue * Love Me Back (Raffa Guido Remix) * Valeron, Payment & Klaudia Touch Me (Sam (GR) Children Touch) * Marten Lou - Better Days * Vxision - Love Preparetions (Slow Down Edit) * Classy 101 (Vxision, Maz Remix) * Empire Of The Sun- Walking On A Dream Vxision Remix) * Jovem Dionisio - Pontos de Exclamação (VXSION Remix) * Rui Da Silva - Touch Me (Peace Control Remix) * Drake - Sticky (Peace Control Remix) * ROUTE 94, Jesse Glynne - My Love (Alex Wann Remix) * FCLT - Fell It’s You (Alex Wann remix) * Zhu - Faded (Alex Wann Remix) * Alright - Red Carpet (Kashovski & Abel Ray Remix) * Sérgio Mendes - Mas Que Nada (Ahmed Spins Edit) * ANOTR, Abel Balder - Vertigo (Carlita Remix) * Kura - Sentir Saudade (Guapo, Antdot Remix) * Drake - Finesse (Antdot Remix) * Peaty - 6pm In Casablanca * Peaty - KILOSA (Afro Melodic Mix) * Black Cofee, David Guetta - Drive (Da Capo Remix) * Empire Of The Sun- Walking On A Dream (Da Capo Remix) * Michael Jackson - Billy Jean (Da Capo Remix) * Coco, Joezi, Pape Diouf - 7 Seconds (Da Capo Remix) * Super Flu - Lovesong * David Mackay, Dela Sur - Carnaval Breve * Moderat, Keinemusik - More Love (Kalidon Mykonos Mashup) * Roy Rosenfeld & Sébastien Léger - ID {Played by Keinemusik} (16khz)

• Drake - Confusion ( Keinemusik Remix )
• The Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition ( Keinemusik Remix )
• Fortress - Diplo ( Rampa Remix )
• Uncle Waffles - Tanzânia (Rampa Remix)
• Toto - Africa (Rampa Edit)
• Together - Janet Jackson (Rampa Remix)
• Zouk Machine - Maldon (Rampa Edit)
• France Gall - Ella, elle l'a (Rampa Remix)
• Busta, Rampa, Black Coffeee - Mamakusa
• Go Low L.A.X (Rampa Edit)
• &Me, Rampa - Tong 4 (Original Mix)
• Travis Scott - Butterfly (&Me Remix)
• Feel - ABRA (&ME & Sasha Tigresa Edit)
• Ilanga - Masšh (&Me Edit)
• Lakou Mizik, Joseph Ray - Samba Yo Pan Pale (&Me Remix)
• Da Africa Deep - Humans (&ME edit)
• CUT Off (&Me) (16khz)
• Marssi, Adam Port feat. Ninae - All I Got
• Joris Voorn - Homeland feat. Matthew Dear (&Me Remix) {Jinadu Vocal Edit}
• Aba - Fell (&Me remix)
• Simian Mobile Disco - Caught In A Wave (&ME Remix)
• Adam Port, Massi, Ninae - All I Got
• Adam Port, Chris IDH & Adassiya - By Myself
• Keinemusik - Muye (Enoo Napa Remix)