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TO Rewrite: B3 — 23. The One We Must Pursue
🕑 Added 2024-12-18 00:07:27 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Grace (Our Cowgirl!)
2. Rachel Park (Our Lunar Hare!)
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The words hit like a switch. Grace’s heart jolted, her senses snapping into focus with the force of a gunshot. She’d seen a little of Rachel gone-wild before—seen her rip a bandit’s clothes clean off his back and made murderers piss themselves—but this? This was on a whole new level and not what she thought she was signing up for.
Every instinct screamed at her to move, move now, but her legs felt rooted in place, body frozen in biting ice. Then, the levels started pouring in, pain momentarily flashing through her entire being as if she were a balloon being pumped full of air to the edge of bursting.
No, I already gained two levels today! What is Rachel doing?!
Finding the strength to clutch her chest, she winced, yet the pain gradually started to subside, a strange tickling sensation rolling through her as her skin peeled away, like dead flower petals. Vision blurring for half a second and her whole body felt lighter.
What the hell did she do to me? Blinking, she looked up at the Eldritch hare, time acting as if it didn’t exist in her presence. Well, shit. I feel great. I guess I could get used to this.
[Level Up - Level 14]
[1 Stat Point Added; 4 Available]
[1 Feat Extension Added; 2 Available]
[1 Equipable Feat Choice Added; 1 Available]
[Level Up - Level 15]
[3 Stat Point Added; 7 Available]
[1 Equipable Feat Choice Added; 2 Available]
[1 Stat Modifier Added; 1 Available]
[1 Branch Feat Added; 1 Available]
[2 Feat Extension Available]
“W-What kind of help, Boss?” Grace’s voice shook, adrenaline flooding her veins like wildfire after the weird experience. Her eyes darted between the flickering void petals floating in the air, watching them pulse and curl like breathing embers.
Rachel’s grin widened—too wide, too sharp. Her paw lifted slowly, every twitch like a predator savoring the moment before the strike. She pointed toward the partially broken wall beside them, where a black rift quivered like an open wound in the air. Jagged edges of reality flickered at its seams. Inside, a lavish palace entrance.
“This is as far as I can penetrate right now. Free Ali Baba,” Rachel’s voice hit her like cold steel dragged across bone. “Capture Abu Hassan. Capture Princess Layla.” Her eyes, those swirling endless voids, locked onto Grace, and Grace felt her breath catch. “They’ll resist. They’ll fight. I’m giving you what’s needed to match them—no more, no less.”
The vibrations grew sharper under Grace’s boots, the sand trembling with each passing second. Her gaze flicked toward the tall walls, watching the cracks spiderweb through its high surfaces, yet a new barrier was forming, a sapphire crystal growing over the stone city. It was doing more than trying to stop a city falling apart—it was attempting to stop reality unraveling.
“The Sultan is not our ally,” Rachel’s grin shifted, voice laced with venomous humor. “He’s just a man watching his world break apart, trying to save what was never his to save in the first place. Still, inside the city, you’ll be safe from the choirs… At least, for now. Stay outside?” Her eyes closed for half a second, her grin never fading. “You will hear Neil’scera. You will hear the Light Bringer.”
Grace’s heart thudded in her chest. She had no clue what Rachel was talking about, but what she did know was that that would be bad. Her eyes darted to Morgiana, who’d gone stiff as a board, lips pressed into a thin line. The slave girl somehow managed to gather enough courage to speak among Legends and Fables.
“What…about Lord Ali?” Morgiana’s voice was quaking, but her eyes never left the horrifying eyes of the hare. “Lord Kassim?”
Brave girl, Grace had to admit, adrenaline making every second feel too slow, every glance too long…or maybe that was Rachel’s power infusing—no, infecting her soul. I’m pissing myself here, and this little lady’s over here asking questions to the void! Put on your big-girl boots, Gracy!
Rachel’s gaze slowly shifted to Morgiana. “That,” she softly spoke into their souls, “depends on where this realm lands in Neil’scera.” Her eyes flicked back to Grace, then each of them in turn, locking them into place like the insects around them, pinned to the sand as if locked inside a display. “Now, go.” Her head lowered, fur bristling as her body began to twist and fold. “My time’s almost past…and The End draws nigh.”
The words reverberated in Grace’s skull like a chime struck in the hollow of her mind. Her head whipped to the side as the rift’s glow intensified. The flicker of decaying petals—those cursed petals—drifted on an unseen breeze, floating toward the crack in space. Her heart leapt in her chest as her gaze shot back to Rachel.
Yeah, I think that means the petals will guide us… Oh, shit!
“Boss… I hope this isn’t going to be a recurring theme in Omen…”
The hare’s form was withering. Her body folded in on itself like an old flower crumbling under too much weight. Her limbs convulsed, her form folding inward like petals curling under flame. Flecks of blackened fur rose from her body like ash caught in an updraft, weightless and irretrievable. Her grin never wavered, too wide, too sharp. Her voice echoed, the hum of teeth clicking in a hollow, unseen space.
“With this, the Black Eye will close… A new one must rend its existence anew.” The void in her eyes dimmed but never fully faded, the last flicker of embers in dying coals. “I shall see my burden through this longest night. The Curse of the Wise… To break the seal, look inside, Milky… Good luck. Into the Madness, I descend.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. You do what you do, Boss.” Grace puckered her lips and smacked them a few times while spinning on her heels to the others, totally paralyzed. Cracking a grin, her voice cracked like a whip, ready to be away from the real insanity. “Let’s get the hell into the palace! Agreed?”
They all responded by darting for the slowly closing portal.
Morgiana bolted first, her frame low as she sprinted, eyes locked on the rift. Red turned into a rosen shadow, moving as if it had its own will, her body a flicker of speed as she dashed into the portal. Gray’s figure ignited with silver flames, his feet barely making a sound as he moved like a phantom in pursuit. Green and Black was right beside Morgiana, quickly out-pacing her and raising her shield. Confusion and fear were etched on all of their faces.
Grace would have been the last in, had not El Santo snatched her by the waist and carried her through. “H-Hey!” she barked, wriggling as he set her down, but her gaze stayed on the others darting ahead.
She tried to match their pace, but every twitch of her limbs felt like a second too late. They’re cutting through like butter, and I’m here playing catch-up. Somethin’s not right here! Her eyes narrowed, fingers twitching toward her revolver, then away, unsure what to do with her hands. Why’s if feel like somethin’ is stopping me from drawing! Stop hesitating, Gracy!
Her brow furrowed as she saw a flower stem curling around her revolvers, making her scowl. Oh… Ya need my help and then handicap me? C’mon, Boss. What are ya trying to tell me? I’m not made for thinkin’!
“Something’s coming, Señorita… I feel it in the ground and air. Something not meant to be seen!”
The world flipped as they plunged through the rift. A rush of cold air punched Grace in the face, the sensation like diving headfirst into a frozen lake. For a split second, she felt weightless, her limbs spinning through the void, and then—
CRACK!
Ahead of her, the others landed one by one—Morgiana’s far too graceful roll for a slave girl, Red’s blink-flash arrival in a pulse of rose petals, Gray’s silent glide, Black’s calculated step, Green’s defensive stance with her shield raised, and El Santo’s thunderous landing, shaking the ground beneath them all. Her boots hit marble as the towering man set her down. Grace stumbled forward, gasping as she caught her balance.
They were inside. The Issue? Their way back blinked out of existence!
Great, she internally growled, doing a quick scan of the interior that they’d landed in. The whole world was practically grayscale with whatever Rachel had done to them. I guess this is what being in Omen means. Step into the fire, little lady!
The palace’s entrance hall was colossal, every inch of it drenched in luxury and excess. Gold filigree lined the massive marble pillars, each one carved with ancient tales of mythical creatures and legendary battles. The ceiling stretched high into a dome of painted constellations, each star glowing faintly, casting a soft twilight glow over the space. Incense hung in the air, a heady mix of frankincense and myrrh.
“Keep moving! Follow the petals!” Grace barked, pointing to the swirling trail of decaying petals drifting ahead of them like breadcrumbs. The group surged forward, every step echoing like cannon shots on the marble floor.
“Grace, what the hell was that back there?” Red’s voice cut through the clamor, her eyes wide with something between disbelief and awe as she ran beside her. “That wasn’t normal. I know crazy—I saw how Rachel operated during the masquerade—but that was beyond crazy!”
“Then you’ve got one up on me!” Grace shot back, voice ragged as she focused on the petals ahead, limbs feeling stressed beyond limit with every twitch, yet feeling as if she were being knitted back together again with every passing second. “I haven’t even been part of Omen for half a day! Give a girl a break. You want answers? Ask the walking nightmare in a bunny suit!”
“Did she always have that kind of power?” Green’s voice was sharp, strained with a mix of relief and unease. Her eyes darted to Grace, the faint glow of her barrier shimmering as she kept it half-raised at their front. “She could have done that when we fought?”
“Eyes forward!” Gray commanded, his steps calculated and precise. Silver flames flickered from his hands, small tongues of fire licking the air. “Get your turtle brain on the mission, Green, and scout out ahead.”
Red and Black gave each other glances that said Mom and Dad are fighting.
“Shut up!” she snarled back, as if arguing with an older brother. “This whole place isn’t running on known logic and we’re running far faster than the speed of sound, idiot! Your fire—”
The silver mixed with some kind of colorless mass, more than tripling in size. Gray swept his arm wide, a wall of otherworldly fire roaring to life ahead, searing away a swarm of glittering scarab-like constructs that had begun to crawl from the cracks in the palace walls. It didn’t touch the frozen palace servants or guards they passed as if in an entirely different dimension. The scarabs shattered with metallic screeches, their bodies curling in on themselves as the flames consumed them.
“Thanks, Mr. Cool,” Grace muttered under her breath, hands twitching at her revolver but not drawing it yet. “You got some crazy powers too, huh?”
“No, it shouldn’t do that,” Red giggled, as if this were a game as she darted ahead, wolf-like eyes flashing and tail beating behind her. Little Red’s ax was a blur, cleaving through the larger construct that rose out of the floor like liquid, her ruby-bathed edge mixing with the same colorless mass, spreading through the still-forming scarab like a virus. “Damn, what the hell did the hare do to us?! Whatever it is, I like it!”
I’m useless at this pace, Grace thought bitterly, teeth grinding as she picked up speed to keep up. They’re cutting through like butter, and I’m just here gasping for air. Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to be the help?
Gray’s silver flames flickered out with a snap, filling a branching hallway to prevent them from being pincered from behind. His eyes remained locked on the path ahead, scanning for threats.
“Really?!” Grace shouted, hands thrown up in exasperation as she was almost hit by a flash of light from the tiles above, El Santo blocking a second, and Green’s shell covering their heads. “I swear, it’s like I’ve taken everyone’s bad luck! I can’t even find a good shot before they’re down.”
Black’s gaze didn’t shift from her book, quill scratching like a raven’s claw. “You probably have. Think about it. Rachel is the Hare of Misfortune. It makes sense that she’d put a lot of it on you. Given how Eldritch powers operate, it’s probably for some future purpose.”
“Probably?” she balked, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. “Wait, does that mean I stock up good luck…and mix that with my natural [Calamity’s Luck]? If so, hey!” Her boot heel snapped and she almost fell. “My boot!”
El Santo was once again there to scoop her up like a princess, giving her a charming smile. “Careful, Señorita! Be sure not to lose your hat next. If you require assistance, then allow me to—oh?”
Grace’s cheeks burned, feeling her shirt sleeve snag on a passing statue that reached out to grab them, ripping her long sleeve off—they kept running. In the next instant, one of the scarabs smacked her on the forehead in passing, leaving a smarting bite, and her left pants leg was snatched by another grasping statue that Red handled.
Rachel, if I end up clothless by the end of this, I’m going to sock you in the face! Is this how you manipulate misfortune because I feel utterly useless!
Black kept going, snapping to a new page. “I suspect this is Rachel’s calling on every power she can. As she said, she’s done playing around.”
Her eyes flicked to the walls where time-frozen figures of palace guards and servants stood like statues. It was easy enough to avoid them with how wide the halls were. Their faces were contorted with laughter, confusion, fear, or panic, the quake from earlier that hit the city registering to only a few before they’d been taken to some time-locked dimension.
“This is impossible for any mortal,” Black reasoned, her eyes narrowing as she made a quick notation in her book. “Rachel’s playing in a space that’s higher than anything we can comprehend. I’d suspect higher powers are backing her…a lot of them. She’s essentially going against the totality of the Fable Seed itself. That Black Moon is probably the catalyst allowing it, by its position amidst the others.”
Red let out a low whistle, flipping her ax into a reverse grip as she jogged. Her grin was sharp and wild. “No wonder the Scarlet Hand’s been dancing around her. You don’t go toe-to-toe with someone who can pull this unless you’ve got an exit plan.”
“Probably a one-time thing,” Black muttered, eyes narrowing as she scanned the swirling petals ahead. Her quill never stopped moving. “If it wasn’t, we’d have seen it before now.”
“Yeah, well, considering how she reacted when her brother got attacked…” Green’s ears went straight up. “Suddenly, it makes sense why the President personally made time for her. She’s not just cocky—she’s got the weight to back it up.”
Her eyes shifted to Morgiana. “Can you keep up? Looks like we’re heading into the lower floors. Expect it to get a lot more intense from here. There’s no telling what protection the Sultan put in place.”
Morgiana’s fists were already balled, her face white, but determined. “I have nothing to lose… My world is falling—” She cut off as a rope materialized out of nowhere right before the stairs. Who jumped over it? The Fables. Who didn’t? El Santo.
“Señorita!”
“Eh—” Grace’s eyes grew big as, abruptly, she went from princess carry, to flying straight for the mirror like slanted ceiling…and phased right through as if it were water. “Screw this bad luck!”
* — * — *
Rachel’s eyes snapped open within the swarm of her Crimson Clones. Her presence pulsed through them like a single heartbeat, each doppelgänger bound to her core.
She felt the weight of three Rulers of Hell pressing into her morphing soul—Izanami’s corruption like a slow, creeping rot; Hades’ power cold, heavy, and relentless; Persephone’s duality, sharp with potential, life, and decay. The paltry scraps of those united titanic forces fed to the rest of her clones, swirling through her veins, feeding into her with every breath.
It won’t be long. The window is narrow and fast… Too fast for anything below the 4th dimension. None of the deities can see the Eldritch twists and turns, either. Their chaos is beyond their orderly essence, existing in their hierarchies… Which is why they need me.
Her focus shifted to one of her strongest projections perched atop a blackened dune overlooking Grace’s squad. The clone’s gaze sharpened, liquid-blood eyes narrowing on Grace’s trembling form as she adapted to the unique messenger she sent to empower them.
She’s tough, Rachel mused, but toughness and grit can’t dodge fate… Not even indomitable will can bypass her threads. To think my own survival to Relica’s assassination attempt was in her plans, a dark, unseen gravitational force drawing everything into one tiny string to examine. Is fate a natural causality of reality…or guided by some conscious being? That is the real question.
Her lips quirked into a smile that cut sharper than any blade as she reached through their bond, weaving threads of karma into the girl’s soul. It wasn’t enough to simply protect her. No, it had to be perfect. Grace’s future—her destiny—would now bend at the critical moment, the weight of karma shifted in her favor—though it would not feel like it at first.
“Take it slow, Mustang,” she whispered to herself, releasing a pulse of scarlet energy into the clone. The world shimmered in that moment, petals of crimson drifting lazily around Grace’s head, unseen, unrecognized—seeds of misfortune planted with care. “You’ll think I’m cursing you, but you’re a smart girl. Thank me later.”
The clone’s attention turned to the horizon where the ancient constructs stirred. Massive, metallic titans—their frames forged from polished starmetal—rose from the sands like gods unburied. Their limbs moved with far more precision than they should, faster than logic would assume, nearly unstoppable.
Each movement sent cascades of sand down their plated forms, revealing intricately designed runes glowing with an ancient light. Djinn craftsmanship from the First Age, as this world called it. The sigils spun like clockwork gears, drawing in energy from the broken gate’s power source, now flipped to offensive.
“Practically invisible to the average mortal… Terrifying stuff. My normal state wouldn’t stand a chance. But,” she crisply stated, twisting her empowered hammer in her hand, “unfortunately for you, I’m no mortal right now. You face a demigod.”
She launched into motion. The sand exploded in her wake, liquefying under the force of her acceleration and creating a detonation of fused atom eruptions in her wake. Her clone’s acted in unison, the whole landscape igniting in plasma and razor winds, sand turning into bullets as they raced toward various targets. Hammers swinging wide, cleaving through the air with the force of meteors, each one of her clones carving a burning crescent into the world.
The first guardian’s arm rose to block, but it was practically molasses. Her hammer struck its elbow joint—CRACK! A shockwave rippled through the limb, fracturing starmetal. Molten glow spilled from the jagged gash as the arm wrenched free. Atmospheric waves coiled around it as the raw force flung it away at a mind bending speed, but Rachel was already dancing through the air toward her next target.
Spinning mid-air, using the force of the swing to launch herself toward the chest of another guardian, she met it with a savage laugh. “Stay down,” she snarled, her hammer reversing in a brutal arc.
Her feet connected with its torso, and the moment she made contact, she twisted—her body a whirlwind of force. Her hammer followed, slamming down with the weight of a falling star. The impact caved the construct’s chest inward with a sickening metallic groan that sent multiple waves rippling through the atmosphere. Sparks and some kind of oil sprayed into the air like blood. The rune-lit gears inside its core burst, their precision mechanisms collapsing into a heap of molten ruin.
They’d never been designed to deal with something like a Greek demigod.
More scarabs rose from the churning sands, swarming the wreckage of their fallen guardians, meaning to repair them. Chitinous bodies clicked together, moving like a singular hive mind. Rachel’s clone barely glanced at them. Her gaze was already shifting—calculating, assessing—when a pulse of divine energy drew her attention.
The Sultan’s barrier was complete.
A dome of sapphire-blue energy shimmered into existence, encasing the city in a crystalline shell. One of the massive arms her clone had cleaved away smashed into it, tumbling over its surface. The Sultan’s figure was now clear, standing atop a floating platform—the city itself was rising out of the sand, showing a deep subterranean underbelly several times its height.
The sands around its base had become a swirling maelstrom of quicksand, dragging lesser settlements and structures into its churning maw. All of the residents inside them had been teleported out, long ancient teleportation circles spanning their entire area transporting them into the city.
Rachel’s true self stood atop the air itself, her feet flat against an unseen platform of compressed dimensions fields. She watched the Sultan’s work with mild approval. Her fur bristled as the Eldritch whispers from the fissure below increased, but her grin never faltered.
Impressive, she admitted through spiritual pulses that would reach him.
Rachel descended from her high perch toward him. Her hammer—far larger and more brutal than the clone’s—rested against her shoulder, its head still glowing with molten heat. She stepped lightly, each step sending faint ripples through the sky itself.
A barrier like that would stop even my—
The Sultan’s gaze locked on her, the sober-faced djinn behind him flexing his fingers. Then, he vanished. Rachel’s eyes narrowed as her instinct kicked in, her body already shifting through dimensional lines just as the air where she’d been exploded into a swirling inferno of sapphire flames.
The impact was immediate—a thunderous crack that rippled across the sky, obliterating several of her distant clones. Their bodies shattered into blood-red petals, fragments of her awareness recoiling back into her core.
Hmph. Now that’s more like it, Rachel muttered, twisting through the rippling dimensional cracks to reform high above the battlefield. She flicked her ears, feeling the static charge of another incoming attack. You’re making me work for it, Sultan. The only other person who pushed me this hard was Seed Scarlet. Let’s see if you can keep up.
A jagged spear of solidified wind, sharper than any blade, tore through the dimensional lines and passed an inch from her face. She felt the kiss of its edge graze her cheek, drawing a thin line of crimson that sent surges of magical force—five more clones took the damage, withering away. Her grin widened. The flower on her chest blooming to release more seeds to blossom.
Careful, she cautioned, her words laced with amusement. If you’re not precise, I’ll think you’re trying to kill me.
“I am.” The Sultan’s voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once.
He appeared in front of her, his form flickering as if he’d folded space itself. The air around him shimmered with raw heat, the faint outline of the djinn’s grin visible just behind him. His hands moved with divine precision, fingers weaving sigils in rapid succession, each glowing with ethereal blue light.
Well, I thought we’d come to an understanding.
Rachel’s eyes darted to his hands, her mind racing. Her foot tapped lightly on the air, and she disappeared just as six bolts of sapphire lightning converged on her location, each crackling with raw destructive power. Three of her Crimson Clones weren’t fast enough—he was targeting the weaker ones. They vaporized instantly, reduced to a cascade of red dust.
Her re-entry came with a roar, her hammer descending with all the fury of a falling star. Her target wasn’t the Sultan—it was the nearest titanic guardian. Her hammer crashed through its chest, releasing a burst of molten sparks and metal. The colossal machine’s gears groaned in protest as its core shattered. She grabbed hold of its crumbling frame, twisting it in front of her just as another vortex of sapphire flame erupted from below—they converted to solar radiation.
The flames licked the edges of the guardian’s armored body, warping and melting the starmetal plates as Rachel crouched behind it like a soldier behind cover. Her gaze darted around, mapping the Sultan’s next position.
Nasty trick there, Sultan. Is this really necessary? Rachel twisted and broke from cover, appearing on the opposite side of another titanic guardian. You’re wasting effort, Sultan. Fighting me won’t change what’s already happened. You know you need me. And I need you.
Another clone fell, ripped apart by an unseen force. Rachel’s brow twitched, but her smirk never faded. The sensation of lost connection hit her like a pinprick—a new type of attack meant for hive minds. She’d felt worse with Seed Scarlet, though. Much worse.
[Level Up - Level 19]
[1 Stat Point Added; 9 Available]
[1 Feat Extension Added; 3 Available]
[2 Equipable Feat Choice Available]
[1 Stat Modifier Available]
[1 Branch Feat Available]
“You send your people into my home,” the Sultan accused with a quiet, grave tone as he hovered several meters away, his robes fluttering unnaturally in the heated air. “You gave them the power to break the seal I placed on the dungeon gate. They trample my sacred grounds. You sacrifice tens of millions of my people’s lives for your war against this unknowable foe you do not even know exists. Do my people not deserve the chance to become real? To gain souls and enter the fabric of reality itself?”
Rachel’s grin widened, her hare-like form twisting with unwilling mirth. Sultan, if my plan works, she replied, her eyes like molten crimson eclipses. They’ll get that chance. Even your daughter.
The Sultan’s eyes widened, realization dawning with the weight of a thousand revelations as she opened the rift between them. His lips parted as he drew in a slow breath.
“You… You would twist the story itself.”
Stories only end if you let them, Rachel’s eyes flickered toward the maelstrom below as the first of the titans—the grand leviathan—rose fully from the sands. Her gaze was sharp as a blade’s edge. Change the ending, Sultan. Or stay in the past with the dust.
His eyes burned with new resolve, his body loosening from his rigid stance. The air shifted. He turned his head to look at the crumbling settlements being consumed by the sands. The far-off cries of a nation many hundreds of kilometers away being drawn into the calamities the Eldritch entity was enacting around the whole globe.
“You’re a monster,” he muttered, gripping the hilt of his weapon as blood dropped from his shaking hand.
Correct, Rachel’s grin returned, sharp as the horror folding beneath the surface of her skin. To the Eldritch, all things are made to be uplifted in The Song. Molded in the ever-changing evolution of The Deep.
A guardian’s arm swung toward them, faster than before, its runes glowing bright gold. The Sultan and Rachel both moved as one—her hammer crashing into its forearm, splintering it like dry bone. The Sultan’s sapphire saber flashed in an arc, cutting through its exposed core with surgical precision. The guardian’s head tilted in silent defeat before it crumbled into scrap.
They stood side by side, eyes locked on the writhing shadowy tendrils rising from below—each one lined with gnashing fangs and eyes. Hungry eyes. Now, the corrupting force was sinking into the titans, fallen and those still standing.
Rachel’s wide grin lifted heavenward, where massive sandworms spiraled from containment satellites falling from orbit, their armored bodies illuminated by the failing glow of their restrictive fields.
“I see it now,” the Sultan said, voice hollow with awe and dread. “I see The End you’ve envisioned… It’s horrific.”
Rachel’s grin never faltered. “Only if you fight me. Buy me time. There is only one way we can overcome the total collapse of your realm and the final failsafe to end this Eldritch entity… The only question is if I can do it…or implode from the amount of power required to course through my soul.”
The Sultan’s smile became strained as the ancient mechanical golem below groaned, its metal plates cracked open, revealing an obsidian prison at its core. Chains snapped. Red eyes opened within the dark. The Dark Djinn’s smile was sharp and hungry, gazing directly at her, waiting to consume her essence to be made real.
“At first, I thought you were merely insane,” the Sultan muttered, placing a hand over a pendant around his neck. “Now, I am beginning to believe your Eldritch madness has managed to twist my own sanity… If you envision a possibility where we can enter reality as participants instead of leeches on collective consciousness, then I will buy you the time you need.”
Excellent! Rachel leaned back, closing her eyes, her consciousness falling into her true body within the 4th dimension to enter the Mirrorverse. I will let your daughter know she owes you more than her life…but her salvation is due to your love, as misguided as it was.
With the Sultan battling the Dark Djinn to slow his own rise into the 4th dimension, she opened her eyes to the three rulers of Hell. “Now, I only need to face myself… How scary can I really be?”
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Comments
SME
Misfortune strikes the strangest places D= Hopefully not that far!
Opala
I sense a conspiracy to strip milky of all but a cowprint bikini. 🐄
Andy
Poor Grace, made to be useless until a certain point due to misfortune. Plus having to be stripped in the process. Thanks for the chapter.
