By Jared Dreamtales
Hey, this story is dark! I'll just put a minor disclaimer before I kick it off...
WARNING! The stories of Universe 33 are intended for children and adults, from age 12 and up! They have moderate to severe violence, dark, almost horror story worthy, moments and plots, and have nonadult romance! The images that the words of my mind may conjure or the feeling they may give may be disturbing or frightening to young readers. I am not saying that these are tales so dark that they are just bad, just that, for the same reason that Stranger Things is rated TV-14, that some images may be disturbing to viewers, or in my case, dreamreaders.
Enjoy my story!
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Hello there.
You’re wondering right now Who is this person? You are reading my message to you. We can sense something about you, child. By child, I mean one of His divine creations.
We are The Kulungile Souls, chosen by God as his warriors. We battle lesser evils, defending the multiverse from violent, eternal beings that belong to Hell’s inferno called the Ezimbi Gods.
As a human, you probably think you are the best, if not the only other living creatures out there with sentient thoughts.
You idiot!
I’m sorry, but that such a foolish idea your species has thought up. Do you realize that at the multiversial time I am writing this, you humans brought your own destruction? War, plague, hate, anger and pollution literally tore your world apart until all life on it was exterminated.
Multiversial time is our version of time, which is the past, present, and future, or the amount of universes created (A universe is created every 60.2356 seconds in your time, or about a minute) since creation. Time in your manner (hours, minutes, days, etc.) does not exist as it is only a primitive illusion fooling mankind, so when you are between universes like we are the past, present, and future all happen at the same time.
I can sense you are realizing the big picture. Let us say that there is an actor on stage performing so well and for so long that you forget you are seeing an actor. That actor is your worldly events, such as World War II or the stock markets’ rise and fall. However, it is still a performance that ends eventually, and for everyone it begins and ends at different times. It begins when you are born, and ends when you die. Then you see the big picture of your universe in the first moments of your death. From there, you go beyond your insignificant universe and go to Heaven or Hell, which is beyond the multiverse and atoms.
Heaven, Hell, the Higher Beings, and all souls are made of mphefumlo, or the essence of the spirit.
You finally see. Take my hand, young one. As we go to the Between Zones, I shall educate you on Timothy and his time in Universe 33.
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Timothy was waiting. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Some days it was something. Other days it was nothing.
He sat perched in a tree within the Quivering Woods, named for the trees weak birch branches that often shook in the wind. He was looking down on the worn soil path beneath him.
While waiting, he thought. Sometimes he’d forget he was waiting for something. Or nothing. He would never know when he’d raise his head from this grove in the early morning.
People called him a thief. A spy. Sometimes, they’d say he was a murderer. It was true, he’d killed people, but only in self-defence. He’d rob people because that was how he stayed merry in his secluded loneliness in the forest. He observed constantly. He had done this since- no, don’t think about that right now.
Timothy had shaggy, orange-red hair. He was quite thin, but he was strong in mind, body, and spirit. He wore light leather clothing, and he had very dark eyes. He had a boyish face with red freckles.
He wasn’t sure what he observed sometimes, or why he was doing it in the first place. Perhaps he enjoyed the peace of being by himself. He just watched. Listened.
The sound of a man’s joyful laughter shook him from his thoughts. Down the path, he saw two men on steeds.
One was a younger man with trimmed, brown hair showing a sort of military position. He wore a breastplate with a chainmail skirt over clean, cloth clothes and he wore metal boots upon his feet. At his waist was a scabbard holding a sword. These attributes showed him to be a knight. He rode upon a brown-coloured stallion. Alongside him was a peppered horse carrying a jovial old man.
The older man had a literal twinkle in his brilliant, purple eyes. He wore a blue cloth cap with a slightly pointed top and a large brim that must have extended at about half a foot. The cap seemed a bit weathered and worn, yet it had retained its vibrant colour. His robes were the same brilliant blue as his cap but made of silk rather than cotton. He had a long, white beard that was unnaturally clean for its length and its lack of colour. On his feet were simple sandals.
Their speech was dignified and noble. They were obviously from a rich town far up the trail. Their clothes further showed that these just weren’t powerful people, they were probably from the capital, which was even further than the city.
“Pxydilean, the king said that you helped his father long ago in a battle against some barbaric men. Is this true?” the younger man said.
Timothy gasped in surprise, and then quickly clasped his hand over his mouth lest his mouth would make another sound. Pxydilean was the king’s personal spellmaster, or so the rumours said. Also, this knight seemingly met the king and knew him well enough that King Richard I told him stories of his father, King Henry II!
“Silence, my friend. The youth we seek is nearby,” Pxydilean said in an authoritative yet friendly voice.
Timothy knew he was the only youth for miles, and also the only soul in these woods. No man or woman entered them without his knowledge. The two companions must have been looking for him!
Timothy readied his bow. Richard was a knight who would surely kill him for his wrongdoings, or take him to the capital for an unfair trial. He did not want to die by hanging or maiming, especially in one of the crowded cities. Besides, the cities brought back too many memories of prior adventures he had tried to keep buried within him.
Timothy was about to release the arrow into the knight’s heart when a thought occurred to him. What about the wizard? He would surely strike Timothy down and simply revive his partner.
He lowered his bow and looked down. Right below him, the two companions had paused while he had been putting his bow back on his back and the arrow in his quiver. The warlock shouted
Timothy’s name. Pxydilean looked around for a moment. He then looked up.
Straight at Timothy.
Timothy knew he was done for, but he knew that he would not be going down peacefully. He put his hand on his belt, ready to grab his dagger and jump down to cut the spellcaster’s throat open.
Then the wizard did something unexpected.
He laughed.
Not a cruel laugh of triumph, but one of mirth. Timothy’s face went red with embarrassment. He moved his hand away from his dagger and held his hands in front of him, palm up.
The wizard simply smiled at him and said “My boy, you look simply foolish perched in that tree.
Would you come down for some venison and ale with my companion and I?”
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“Efopniar?” Timothy queried.
“Don’t speak his name here!” Pxydilean hissed, with not so much as anger, but fear. “Names have power. He will hear his name and will know exactly where we are!”
“My apologies,” Timothy said, suddenly overcome with a wave of shyness.
“It’s alright, just remember not to do it next time.”
They had asked him to come with them to defeat an evil sorcerer called Efopniar. Pxydilean had had a vision of Timothy watching from his tree, as well as a vision of Timothy fighting alongside the two men. By this, he knew that Timothy was to be part of the group.
“I’m Richard, part of the king’s royal defence squadron around the capital. Pxydilean asked for King Richard’s finest knight, and he sent me,” the knight said, thrusting out his muscular, battle-scarred arm.
Richard shook Timothy’s hand heartily.
“Well, now that we have been properly introduced, shall we get on with our laborious journey?” Pxydilean said, waving his hand and making the unfinished food vanish.
“I have no horse, sir,” Timothy said.
“A horse of the stature and speed of ours? That’s unfitting for a boy with the body of your size and shape and attitude! No, you need a young bronco, not the tamed ones we have. They’re far too slow and old for a boy like you,” Pxydilean said, waving his hand and materializing a young horse with toned leg muscles, but it had a weaker chestal region and height than that of the regal horses that the knight and the wizard rode upon.
Timothy was astounded by this feat of magic, making a horse appear from nowhere! He knew that Pxydilean must be frightfully powerful to perform such a feat with such ease.
“Tame him, young lad,” Richard said.
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Timothy’s rump ached after the twenty-eighth time the rowdy bronco bucked him on the hard ground. In fact, every bone in his body ached. That cursed, rude horse was to be broken by him, but it didn’t like him very much at all.
He went up to the horse to try to ride it once again, emitting fury of the most despicable kind, but he was struck with an idea. This was a proud horse who disrespected him because he disrespected it. He went in front of the horse and stood in front of it. He then knelt and bowed in front of the horse.
“Pxydilean, may I have a few sugar cubes?” Timothy asked, keeping his head bowed.
“I see no reason why not,” the wizard said, with a slight smile creeping upon his face.
“What are you trying to do? The horse needs to be ridden to be broken,” Richard stated with utmost confusion in his voice.
“Thanks for the sugar cubes, Pxydilean. I agree fully with you, Sir Richard. However, young broncos are different from your regal steeds from the palace,” Timothy responded, feeding the horse from the palm of his hand.
“I don’t underst-oh my Lord,” Richard said.
The young horse, after eating its sugary treat looked at Timothy, nodded, and bowed. Timothy turned and looked at his new friends and smiled.
“Respect the horse, and he’ll respect you,” he said.
Richard stood confounded as Timothy slid a saddle and bridle on the horse, and then Timothy hopped on the horse with ease. It got up and stood as though it were awaiting orders from the rider.
“Unbelievable,” Richard said.
“In all my travels, no one has ever calmed and broken such a rowdy steed so easily. You have a way with animals, young boy,” Pxydilean said, only slightly surprised.
Timothy leaned a bit forward and the steed walked forward.
“May I call you Everett, my steed?” Timothy said.
The horse gave a whinny of joy on his crowning.
“It’s time we start our journey, my friends,” Pxydilean said.
“Then let’s get on with it!” Timothy said excitedly.
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Our heroes lived in Universe 33, a universe that was just like yours, with one huge difference. We multiverse-travelers used to go there until there was a...malfunction in this universe (We’ll tell you about that error later in the story…best not spoil it! Heh heh!). It had vanished. We couldn’t go there because the timeline was gone! It had been erased from existence! We knew about it because it was archived with us. Every time we wanted to go to Universe 33, we’d faze out to journey there and then a loud bang would be heard, and the traveller would be lying on the ground, dazed from the blast.
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The path to the Ashen Expanse was longer than Timothy remembered. He had journeyed there from time to time during his time in the woods. He also noticed that his surroundings were very different as well.
“Pxydilean?” he called after a while as the uncertainty in him grew.
“Yes, Timothy?” the wizard responded.
“I don’t recognize the path we are taking.”
“That is because it’s different. We are going on a trail there that will take more time, but also should keep us from any beasts who wish to end us. We are also taking a small detour.”
“What do you me-” Timothy began to say, but Richard cut him off.
“Why can you not teleport us there?” Richard said.
“He has put a spell that won’t allow anyone to teleport near it. It also drains my power, so when we get there, I would promptly lose conciousness and be of no help in a battle.”
At these remarks, the three companions went silent.
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Timothy noticed that as they continued, he felt more at ease and more relaxed. Everett was just following his fellow steeds, so Timothy slid back in the saddle. He began to fall asleep.
Pxydilean hit Timothy over the head with his staff, making Richard cackle with laughter.
“Do not fall asleep. That is their trap!”
“Who’s trap are you talking about?”
“The fairies.”
“No! Those cumbergrounds only cheat, steal, and murder!” Richard said.
“We must cooperate. There is someone we need that they have.”
The group fell into silence, as it was obvious that Pxydilean wasn’t saying any more on the subject.
The forest they rode through grew brighter, and the trees smaller, yet wilder. The path they were on, however, only grew less and less cluttered. This thoroughly perplexed Timothy. At last, they came to the entrance of a cave. They all came to a stop.
“Saffron Limewhisper!” Pxydilean called into the cave.
After a few moments, a human-like male emerged from the cave, and he stood at about five feet in height. His eyes slanted upwards and they were huge. They were lime green. He wore a leafy green sleeveless robe. His skin was a pastel yellow. He had neon green hair. He was of average weight and had the body shape of a young adult. Out of his back protruded wings that were pastel green and like that of a dragonfly.
“Pxydilean? Is that you?” the stranger said.
“Hello, Saffron!” he said.
“It is! It is so good to see you again, my magical friend!” the fairy said, embracing the wizard.
Richard and Timothy looked at each other with confusion in their eyes.
Pxydilean laughed aloud, “Old friend, very old!”
Saffron looked at them and narrowed his eyes.
“It is a common misconception that we are just the worst and evilest humanoids to walk this world, but truthfully we are more similar to you than you could ever imagine! You judge me by my looks and powers. We are kind people that hate violence. You attack us so we must defend ourselves and our young, but you twist it to say that we are the evil ones. Is that fair? We are greater than you human fools not because of our powers or origin, but because we see beyond skin or species. Richard, you are a good man, as well as you Timothy. You may be human, but you are kind and good.”
Timothy and Richard were astonished at the fairy’s speech. These so-called brainless, evil, simple creatures were very complex and good, and probably better than humans morally.
Timothy was the first to speak between the two of them.
“I apologize, sir. I admit that I have killed a few of your kind under false pretenses.”
“Timothy, they are not dead. You were located in the Quivering Woods, were you not? Luckily, we found them and they are perfectly healthy. Anyway, Pxydilean, what brings you and your comrades here?”
“We are on a journey to bring Your Enslaver to his knees.”
Saffron grimaced.
“I’m afraid I cannot come, my old friend. I have a family here now, and my people cannot afford me to leave now since He is back. We’d be enslaved quickly. Come in our realm, and we’ll find you someone.”
Pxydilean followed him, and he turned around to beckon his friends forward. They followed him and stepped into the cave.
The companions were momentarily blinded by a bright flash of green light. When they could see clearly, they were amazed by their surroundings.
A tree grew in the middle of the cavern, and birds flew around it. Around the room, spheres of water floated in the air. They had various aquatic creatures in them. Beasts ran around, and Richard looked like he was about to faint when a tiger came and rubbed against him like a domesticated cat. This made Timothy laugh.
The most amazing part was the fairies, though. They flew around, fishing, running, playing, or working.
“Show me your fighters, my friend,” Pxydilean.
“Come with me,” the fairy said, gesturing towards a tunnel.
They followed him. The room they came into had fairies sparring with each other and practising various forms of combat.
All of them were being active and working, except for one. A blond fairy girl in a yellow dress sat in the corner. Richard looked around at the soldiers, inspecting them. Timothy was looking at them as well. They were practising archery, swordplay, and magic, and they were all proficient in their fighting.
Pxydilean said, “We’ll take that girl in the yellow dress, over in the corner.”
“What? Sunflower? She’s a terrible soldier! What about Briar, or Coral?” Saffron asked incredulously, and he gestured to two of the best fighters there, having a sword duel that went across the entire expanse of the huge room.
It was impressive to watch the fighters duel with their energy and speed of movement. They made such quick moves that they were almost a blur.
Richard seemed unsurprised and sighed.
“She has potential; I see it,” the wizard said.
Saffron sighed and said, “Sunflower, come here.”
The girl got up and looked at Saffron, then at the trio.
“Okay,” she said.
Timothy put out his hand and said, “Hello, Sunflower.”
“Hello, Timothy,” she said, shaking his hand.
God, how he hated how the fairies read minds! He had not even said his name, but she new from seeing his thoughts!
Richard gestured towards Pxydilean, and Sunflower grimaced but said nothing. Timothy’s two friends walked away and Richard began speaking to the wizard very quickly and quietly.
“Well, I must go train my soldiers. I will see you all later,” Saffron said.
He then left, leaving Timothy and Sunflower alone.
Timothy got a better look at his new companion, and he immediately flushed. She was absolutely stunning. Her face was short and narrow, and her ears were slightly pointed. Her eyes slanted upwards subtly and were not as large as Saffron’s but still larger than a human’s. Her skin was a soft yellow, and her dress seemed to be made of sunflower petals. Her long blond hair fell easily over her shoulders. Her wings were like a butterfly’s but they were translucent. They were yellow with black details. Her body was thin and she stood at about four and a half feet tall. He looked at her, marveling at her exquisite beauty as well as with a sense of longing for the fairy. He hoped she wasn’t reading his thoughts right now. She looked at him with a smile that said she was and she wagged her finger in a ‘no, no’ kind of gesture. His face turned a deep shade of red in response.
“Timothy.”
Richard’s voice shook him from his thoughts. He turned and looked at his friends.
“It is time to begin our journey,” Richard said, with a slight look of disdain towards Sunflower, which she seemed to ignore.
Saffron came back over to escort them out.
Saffron spoke quietly to Richard, saying “Pxydilean seems a bit senile in his old age. He’s about six hundred years old at this point, you know.”
Richard laughed “Really? Six hundred? I thought he was six thousand!”
Timothy and the other two laughed.
Pxydilean looked back and queried “What’s the merriment about?”
Needless to say, he got no response.
The group all walked out together, and Saffron bid them farewell.
“It appears that we do not have enough horses, and Saffron said we cannot borrow one of the fairies, so I’m afraid you will have to ride with someone, m’lady,” Pxydilean said to her.
“No apology needed, Pxydilean. It is fine by all accounts,” she responded with a smile, and she then she turned towards Timothy and asked, “May I ride with you?”
Timothy’s face went a little pink, and his friends looked as though they were trying not to laugh.
“Of course,” he said in a bit of a high-pitched voice.
She made a sound that seemed like a mixture of a laugh and the word ‘Yay!’ and jumped on Everett’s back after Timothy did. The horse then neighed at her, and she neighed back, and the bronco blew his nose outwards, almost as though he was sighing.
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After many miles and days of travelling, they had reached the frigid icy wasteland of The Silent Provinces, and Pxydilean said to rest for awhile. The group all knew each other quite well at this point (Richard and Sunflower sang great together!). They all obeyed, aside from Sunflower, who had fallen asleep on Everett’s back against Timothy, much to his embarrassment.
He got off the horse and grabbed her as she began to fall. She woke up, still half asleep. She wrapped her delicate arms around Timothy’s neck and her head against his chest. She yawned.
He carried her to the camp Pxydilean had set up and laid her down and put a fur blanket that he got from his magical friend. He laid down a few feet away. He covered himself with his fur blanket and turned on his side. Sunflower turned over. After a few moments, he was about to fall asleep, until he saw Sunflower open one eye cautiously. She opened the other one and sat with her knees pressed against her chest, wrapped in the fur blanket, but her back was exposed and her wings stretched out behind her. She sighed and looked off into the distance.
He got up and walked out to her. He sat beside her.
“Nothing’s wrong, Timothy. You can go back to sleep,” she said.
He wrapped his arm around her and said “Something is wrong. I don’t have to read your mind to know that.”
“This is my first time without anyone to help me, no other fairies to guide me.”
“We’re here for you,” he said.
“Timothy, you’re so...so,” she started and it then looked as though she was contemplating something.
Then she put herself closer to Timothy. She angled her head, pursed her lips, and kissed Timothy.
His eyes widened as her soft lips brushed against his. After the initial shock wore off, he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer. Her blonde hair around them.
“We really need to sleep,” Timothy said after what seemed like an eternity.
“I’ve got my knight-in-leather-armour with me,” Sunflower said.
He smiled and laid down next to her, draping them both in the fur blankets.
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Timothy awoke when Sunflower screamed.
He lunged up with a start and felt the knife plunge into his shoulder.
He shouted a loud curse and looked at his attacker. It was none other than Richard! He had a crazed look in his eyes and was breathing hard. Timothy’s arm felt like it was on fire, melting off. He jumped up holding Sunflower and put her behind him in order to shield her.
“What in the blazes are you doing? It’s me, Timothy, you idiot!”
Richard took another step forward, his knife dripping blood. Sunflower screamed again, but this shriek was louder and more high-pitched.
Pxydilean suddenly awoke. He saw what was happening. He said something unintelligible with his wand out, and Richard collapsed.
“What was that about?” Timothy demanded.
Sunflower was staring wide-eyed at where Richard laid.
“Dreams...oh my...this...this is terrible. He’s gone mad because he saw something terrible...unspeakable...” she started, but she broke out into tears, holding Timothy.
She lifted her bloodshot eyes and looked at Pxydilean.
“Help him.”
“I’ll do what I can,” he said with a grimace and a look of sadness towards his fallen companion.
He picked up Richard’s unconscious body and set it beside him. He awoke and looked at Pxydilean. The light in his eyes was gone. In their place was an inner sadness and horror. Pxydilean tried to talk to him, but he only spoke gibberish. No one could understand.
The wizard looked sadly at them and said with a tear in his eye“I can’t do anything. No one can. His mind...it’s broken. This is truly a fate that is worse than death. He’s in there, but he’s absolutely destroyed as a soul and being. Only a fragment of the man we knew exists. The best thing we can do is free him. Shall we?”
“You mean...kill him?” Sunflower said.
“Yes, unfortunately.”
Timothy had tears in his eyes. Sunflower had turned away from the other two. He wiped his tears.
“Do it.”
“I cannot. I won’t kill,” the wizard said in a sad voice.
“I have to?”
“Yes. Please. It is the only possible solution. Spare him from the torture he’s in now.”
Timothy turned around to his bag. His arm burned from his wound. Pxydilean shot a spell that froze Richard where he stood, and he went over to Sunflower. Timothy grabbed a dagger from his bag and walked over to Richard. He had a scared look in his eyes. Tears flowed down Timothy’s face. He hadn’t cried since his mother died.
“I’m sorry, my friend.”
Timothy took the knife and put the blade to the side of his friend’s throat. He brought it back. His arm swung with the dagger into the knight’s throat. There was a terrible scream from the brave knight’s throat and then Richard fell over, dead.
Timothy sobbed over the loss of his friend. Pxydilean muttered a spell with tears, and Richard was buried and Timothy’s arm was healed. He went over and put his arm around Timothy.
“We must continue. It is what he would’ve wanted.”
“Who did this?” Timothy said, crouched on the ground with his head hung low.
“We do not know. I’d say it was one of the evil warlock’s minions.”
Timothy stood up.
“I’ll kill those bastards who did this, whoever they were! I’ll make them suffer!”
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Pxydilean was very forlorn and did not speak until they had reached the Ashen Expanse.
“Beyond here you cannot turn back. If you wish, my friends, you may leave,” the wizard said bitterly.
Timothy was surprised by his friend's words. His astonishment faded quickly, and it was replaced by his fury. He gripped his bow limb.
“I’m with you.”
“I’m with you as well, Pxydilean,” Sunflower said.
“Let us go then,” he said, and then he cast a spell and said, “The extreme heat of the expanse will no longer affect us.”
They continued riding to the very edge. Pxydilean made the horses vanish, and Timothy felt a twinge of hollowness in his heart for Everett.
“Better there than here.”
The group stepped across the barrier.
Timothy was unaffected by the heat, but the air became dry around them. The land around them was charred and hideous; a lava river poured down the landscape like a bloody scar. Pillars of ash rose up around them. The sky was thick with smoke. Obsidian rocks and skeletons lay around him. Sunflower moved closer to Timothy. He put his arm around her, partly for his own reassurance that he was still alive and not in Hell.
They walked further. In the distance, a rounded structure rose up.
“His lair,” Pxydilean clarified.
They walked further, but Sunflower yelled for them to stop.
“There are monsters nearby.”
The friends formed a triangle standing back to back. Sunflower had her arms out in front of her with a murderous look in her eyes. Pxydilean clutched his wand, thrusting it out like a blade. Timothy had his bow at the ready, with arrow nocked.
“Perhaps it was a false alarm, Sun-” Timothy started.
Then the hellhounds were upon them.
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The hellhounds looked like black, hairless dogs that were twice as large as a wolf. Flames shot out from them, and their claws shone like razors.
Timothy’s bow was wretched out of his grasp, and his weapon belt from his waist with the force of a wild boar. He slipped a knife into his hand from his sleeve. He grabbed a hellhound near him, kicked one in the snout, stomped on another’s spine, feeling it crunch beneath his feet. He shoved his knife into the held hellhound’s eyes. He picked up his bow. He shot several arrows into the dozens of beasts’ chests.
The area around him was clear, so he looked around. Vines shot through several hounds, and some were eaten by flowers shaped like huge jaws. They sank back into the ground after they completed their grisly, murderous deed. More unholy plants took their place, destroying the demonic canines. This was probably Sunflower’s doing.
He looked for Pxydilean, and he saw something that chilled him to the bone. An ifrit, a humanoid with goblin-like features (but most stood at over seven feet tall) and the ability to use dark magic and control fire, stood over the battle. Worse, Timothy’s friend was fighting him alone.
Pxydilean was fighting for his life.
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It laughed an evil, throaty laugh and said “I think I’ll leave you alive, you pesky vermin. I’ll do you like I did your friend. Richard, was it? He was fun, resisted to the end.”
Timothy yelled in pure outrage at this beast. He refused to lose another friend, especially to this coward. It swung a mace at the wizard’s head. Pxydilean ducked, but the ifrit brought the mace down right in front of him. The wizard raised his staff to block it, and it was caught on the staff. The wizard tried to push the deadly weapon towards the beast, or at least away from his own body, however, the ifrit was overpowering him. As it looked like the spellcaster’s end, Timothy let loose a blood-curdling scream.
Suddenly, each surviving hellhound quit attacking. They turned towards the ifrit as if in a trance. Then they ran towards it and shredded it. Pieces of the monster flew around, and black blood was flung through the air.
The ifrit screamed for what seemed like hours, and Timothy looked at it being brutally torn apart with homicidal glee. Then it went silent, or at least what was left of it. The hellhounds looked at the goblin-like demon’s remains, bowed their heads, and sank into the ground.
“What was that?” Sunflower whispered with a petrified look.
Timothy’s violent light in his eyes faded and he looked at his friends. Pxydilean was amazed yet nervous of Timothy, and his love looked scared of him.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” he said, hanging his head.
“That...was incredible, my boy!” Pxydilean said after a moment.
Sunflower quickly got over the sheer horror of what she had seen, and looked at him with happiness and pride and said “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said.
The two looked at each other with shared love. He stepped towards her and hugged her and lightly kissed her.
Pxydilean looked forward and said, “We must continue, friends.”
“Okay, let’s kill that cowardly, demonic warlock,” Sunflower said.
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The companions continued and reached the half-sphere structure he had seen earlier.
“This is definitely his lair. Come with me, friends,” Pxydilean said.
He stepped through the barrier of Efopnair’s lair, and the other two left behind him.
The air inside was normal, no, better than normal, Timothy thought. It almost as pleasurable as the fairies’ atmosphere.
Timothy looked around him and saw war camps around a circle of stone slabs that stood in the air.
“Ah, the heroes are here!” a sarcastic voice that cut the atmosphere like a knife spoke.
A man with dark grey hair and a short, pointed beard walked towards them. He wore a deep black cloak and his eyes shone blood red. They had a spark of what seemed like darkness rather than light. He held a staff of darkened ivory. He stopped about six feet away from them and smiled a mad, evil grin with black, rotten teeth as he looked the trio over.
“Pxydilean, you brought friends for me to kill and torture! How thoughtful!” he said.
Timothy spoke through a sudden bout of fear and said “Efopnair, you won’t kill us. I’m afraid that it’s the other way around, you coward.”
“Please, young boy. You are three people. I have an army.”
“Then we’ll kill you and your men!” Sunflower said in a flustered voice.
“Men? Who said they were men? I have worse, so much worse than demons. I’ve seen things beyond this universe, beyond Heaven and Hell! I have cultists of the Ezimbi Gods!”
“They’re...they’re a myth!” Pxydilean said with fear in his voice.
The grin on Efopnair’s face grew wider and he said “Is that so? I’m not so sure you’ll believe that after my army is through with you,” and he slammed his staff against the ground.
A deafening crack sounded through the air.
Hundreds of people came out of the tents with faded dark red hoods drawn over their faces. However, some had horns or spikes or tails. Whenever he caught a glimpse of their skin, it was the same colour as the robes they wore. They all stood, encircling the rocks, facing the evil spellcaster.
“They built those rocks as a shrine to one of the Gods known as Igazi to worship it,” he said in a bored voice.
“Anyway, don’t you see, these aren’t human beings! They know the truth, and I do too,” the evil warlock said.
Then Pxydilean suddenly thrust out his own staff and yelled a spell that Efopniar blocked with his own.
Efopnair fired spells at the trio, which were dodged and blocked. They fought against him with all their power, attacking with spells, arrows, and knives. The warlock repelled each effort.
Timothy heard chanting emit from the cultists, but he ignored it and kept fighting.
The chanting got louder and louder, and the fighting slowed down. It slowed down so much that the trio and Efopnair ceased their battle and looked towards the Ezimbi cultists.
It sounded like they were chanting the same thing over and over: “Igazi, sikubiza endaweni yakho yokulala! Woza, makhe sibone uhlobo lwakho olubi! Yehla phezu kwaba bantu kwaye uvune imiphefumlo yabo nengqondo!” with gathering energy and furtiveness.
“Stop,” the dark spellcaster said with force.
They didn’t.
“No, stop my army! Stop! Listen to your master!” the warlock said in a terrified voice.
“What have you done, Efopnair?” Pxydilean said with a quiet, scared voice.
“STOP! STOP! I COMMAND YOU!” the dark wizard screamed in an insane attempt, but the volume of the cultists only grew.
Then, all at once the chanting stopped. All was silent.
The air became colder than ice and it seemed to hang in the air like a caught breath held in suspense.
However, the only sounds were each person’s slow breaths.
Then there was a terrible shriek and a flash of red light.
Images flashed before Timothy’s eyes.
He witnessed Hell’s tormented souls, cruel, senseless murder, women and men being tortured, the violent deaths of children, disembowelled people and animals, tribes eating another tribe, bodies in grotesque positions after committing suicide, and everyone he knew dying.
He had to relive the death of Richard, see Sunflower torn apart like the ifrit, and Pxydilean exploding.
But these did not hurt him the most.
No, it was witnessing his mother’s death.
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He never knew how his mother died. A neighbour had told him when he got home from work at age ten that she had been murdered and buried. He mourned her and wished he could’ve saved her. It had torn him apart for years. It was what caused him to isolate himself in The Quivering Woods.
He was outside his house and he heard his mother praying in Latin inside.
“Tu autem videtis me: Domine mi? Vero me? Dei Filii, et Spiritus Sancti excita agrum accipere animam meam, corpus meum perisse, et idolum anima mea, et in cubito consummabis cor corrumpere,” she prayed.
Something in the far back of his mind told him what she was saying, and it was “Do you see me, my Lord? Do you truly see me? God, the Son, and the Holy Spirit take my ravaged soul, my ruined body, my worthless life, my corrupt heart and finish it.”
Tears flowed from his eyes, and he knew what was about to happen. He tried to turn away, but he could not.
His mother walked towards the fire they used for cooking.
She crossed herself, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply.
“Stay safe, my son.”
She then stepped into the flame.
There was a long scream that issued from her throat, and as her skin blackened, her voice became more hoarse.
And she was silent.
His vision switched to minutes later, and he was now following his neighbour. He was a young man who Timothy believed that had developed a fancy for his mother.
He must have heard the screams because he left his house and walked over.
“Martha?” he called knocking on the door.
“Martha? Answer me, I heard some screaming,” he said, but when he got no response he said, “I’m coming in.”
He opened the door and gasped.
The fire had been smothered by Timothy’s mother’s burnt body, and she looked skeletal. Her eyes, hair, clothes, and flesh was gone. Her corpse still smoked.
His neighbor knew he couldn’t tell her son. He would blame him for her death in his anger and would hate him, possibly even prosecute him for murder. He picked up the body and took it to his yard.
He buried her in his yard and mourned her. When her son, Timothy came home, he put himself as the boy’s guardian.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Timothy released tears of sadness, but only briefly.
Then a new set of images flashed in his head, his eyes rolled back into his head. He shook violently and his tongue hung out his mouth. Waves of pain swam over him. Hell’s torture would be bliss compared to this. He felt his knees shatter and he collapsed, and the moment he hit the ground, the sweet relief and peace of death enveloped him like a mother embracing a child.
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His memories, specifically, of this time flooded into our database as he died. We immediately tried to see Universe 33, but it closed. Upon closer analysis, we realized that it wasn’t there. It was gone. We assume that Igazi, one of the Ezimbi Gods was summoned, and now it is in another universe, one that can’t be teleported to by us.
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