​​​​23 Beyond the Ocean Ever

Present Day

HUDDLED WITHIN THE ancient ruins of a tower, on a flat hill, Lorn stared out at the rain. Wasn’t long ago, she’d sat on the edge of another with Wither. So much she wished she could change.

Outside, in a grey haze, hard black earth turned to mud. Rivers of sludge swept past to flow downhill. Rain in the Styx could be benign or deadly. She listened for the sizzling as fat drops splattered pockmarked stone. Instead, came a pat patter; the sweetest sound she’d heard in weeks. She risked tasting a drop first, and took her fill from a hollow in a wall. Another day, another rain storm, and she might be a melting blob.

They were out there, in the rain, searching. Bounty hunters, shraeds, ghouls, and others. The ghouls would’ve lost her scent. It wouldn’t last. Her journey across the Ever Ocean had been unmemorable. In a sense, Mania had spirited her away.

She sat on a flat piece of stone, which might once have served as a table. The shelter above her head was minimal, but enough. She shivered, wrapping her arms about her legs. Her muscles ached, and she’d had little food, what passed for such in Volg being tasteless muck. It was one week gone, if she’d kept track of the days right. A Styx week. A day longer than in her own world.

‘They are ten,’ said a voice in her left ear.

‘You are one,’ said another in her right.

Lorn didn’t acknowledge them. The shraeds had assumed smaller forms. On this continent was an enemy in a fortress called Balax. Someone they feared, which meant she should feel petrified. Of course, the reason they gave her was they had drained their powers. No longer linked to Tartaros, Manic and Mania were set apart, renegades. If one believed their story.

The downside, or so Mania had explained, was recuperation took longer. They often sat on her shoulders now, like sprites from children’s tales, instead of shraeds. They never ceased nattering. She had grown fond of them after a fashion, but their incessant pestering didn’t help.

‘You should run,’ suggested Manic. ‘Ghouls are fast, and you are slow. A head start, yes.’

‘She’s not slow,’ said Mania. ‘You underestimate her, dearest.’

‘Why is she sat here?’

‘Contemplating, I suspect. Mortal humans are notorious for over-thinking matters.’

‘Idling.’

Lorn sighed, stretching her legs. What she had yet to determine was what they wanted. No matter how she pressed them, they always avoided revealing their true intentions. So far, pestering her to death seemed their goal. ‘I don’t suppose you two can do anything to stop them? Haven’t you rested enough?’

Manic landed on Lorn’s knee and pointed a long finger at her. Well, long comparative to his current size. His form still smouldered from his fight at Volg, though she thought he might’ve been putting it on. He was the dramatic type. ‘Not our business, this. You shouldn’t ask such a thing of us.’

‘Why not?’

Mania landed on her other knee. She felt their weight, which wasn’t much, although they weren’t harmless. They had enough power, she guessed, to hurt her if they chose.

‘Look at the trouble you’ve caused,’ Manic snapped at his sister. ‘Defending her only leads to such problems. She has developed a back bone of all things. I do detest lesser creatures displaying courage. It is unconscionable.’

‘Necessary, dearest.’

‘Inconvenient.’

‘Oh, dearest, you fail to observe the obvious. She always had a spine, but your sniping has hardened it.’

‘There is but one tried and tested method for dealing with mortals – the Malignity Theorem.’

‘Would you help?’ asked Lorn, feeling mischievous. Their arguing with each other was better than annoying her. ‘I mean if you could, would you bother?’

They both looked offended, Manic’s face turning red and purple. He struggled getting words out. Mania answered for him. ‘What is it you think we are doing?’

‘That’s just it, isn’t it? I know why I’m here but you two? I had a plan, and you have disrupted it from the start. Why?’

‘Our power isn’t what it was,’ Manic huffed, arms folded as he glared at her. He spoke to her these days, not having a choice. She had to carry them everywhere after all. They in turn, taught her what she could and most certainly couldn’t eat. They had guided her as she’d walked from the rocky coast inland. She knew she’d have died without them.

Lorn stood without warning. They toppled from her knees. Black shimmers of power surrounded the shraeds as they landed softly. ‘I need to move on,’ she said. ‘If neither of you can help, I don’t see why I need to put up with your nonsense.’ A pity she must pursue her original plan. For a time, hope had begun to flutter in her heart. Hope, the most treacherous enemy of all.

She turned to exit the ruins through what remained of a gigantic door. She knew nothing of the former inhabitants of this world. The shraeds had proven unwilling to discuss it.

Mania appeared before her, blocking her path. She’d grown taller, perhaps the height of a ten-year-old human. ‘We know what you plan. You mustn’t. You do not understand the consequences, my dear. It is—’

‘You think us fools?’ Manic had appeared beside his sister, also taller, though his face remained red. ‘Mischievous creatures you can bat aside, yes? We are not, and we will not be. We will have our say.’

‘You’ve been having your say for some time,’ Lorn observed drily. ‘Perhaps I am tired of listening.’

‘The realms of the Spectrum,’ continued Mania with a glare for her brother’s interruption, ‘are innumerable. What you do, what you plan to do, will have repercussions far beyond your own world.’

‘You think you know my mind. You don’t.’

‘We know everything.’

She scoffed, but decided to switch arguments. ‘You are shraeds. You exist to destroy the Spectrum, all its realms. I mean, I like you better than when we first met, but I don’t trust either of you. You’re keeping secrets from me.’

‘Why is it,’ Manic demanded, ‘humans think they’re the ones who matter, as if everything in existence is for their pleasure?’

‘Probably,’ answered his sister, ‘because they think they’re the only ones in existence. My dear,’ she said, addressing Lorn, ‘we told you we are not like the others. It was all your doing, if you recall. In a way, you have a responsibility to us.’

Lorn shoved past, but didn’t feel anything as she brushed off them. They could do that when they wanted. She wondered if their full size wasn’t an illusion, and this was their real height. Allies of necessity. Friends? What she couldn’t accept was that they wished to help her, and by extension humanity. It made no sense being what they were. It was in their nature to destroy. All her memories told her this.

‘We know who you are,’ said Mania from behind. ‘We know why you do what you do. Always two fragments, never one, never three.’

‘Two,’ echoed her brother.

‘Just so.’

Lorn halted at those words. The conniving bastards did know everything.

‘We cannot allow what is to come. The Grim’s power is far reaching, and my brother and I have ever been a thorn in his side. We would remain so.’

Lorn turned to face them. ‘You’re shraeds. You exist to destroy. You want the Shathra Stone for yourselves, and you want to use it to destroy worlds including my own.’

‘You misinterpret our intentions,’ said Mania in a voice, which for all the world, sounded hurt. Her size had reduced further as though sulking.

Lorn blinked twice in disbelief. Was she pouting? ‘As you’ve both misinterpreted mine. Why don’t you destroy my world? Why drag it out? Do you think I don’t know you’re both servants of Tartaros? I know a lot about you too.’ Time and magic had left her memories broken, discordant, but she knew enough.

‘Servants,’ Manic said, choking on the word. ‘Not in the least. Now you go too far.’

‘Once, we were,’ admitted Mania, ‘yes.’

‘No longer, sister.’

‘You admit you exist to destroy?’ Could she trust them? Were they telling the truth after all? If they were, what did it mean?

‘To infect,’ said Manic with a dangerous smile, confirming her fears.

‘To infiltrate,’ said his sister.

‘Manipulate.’

‘Annihilate.’

Perhaps she’d given them too much credit. ‘Well, why didn’t you?’

‘Oh, but we did, my dear,’ said Mania. ‘Don’t you remember?’

‘Wilful ignorance,’ suggested Manic.

‘Rather, a fragmented past and present, and new personalities formed resulting in a dearth of knowledge and experience. Tearing one’s soul apart will do that, brother. Among other things.’

‘We infiltrated your world once,’ said Manic with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘We possessed the greatest of your kind, a powerful sorcerer. At least, by mortal standards.’ His mouth curled in disgust.

Lorn hesitated for a moment, and it hit her. ‘You mean, you two are the reason ...’

‘Exactly,’ said Mania with a nod. ‘We would have done all as you said, for my brother and I were no different from our kin. Until, something happened.’

‘To him.’

‘To us.’

‘You happened.’ Manic was glaring at her. ‘Don’t you remember it? She doesn’t, does she? How can she forget such a momentous and inconvenient occasion?’

‘Memories fragmented, dear, remember?’

‘Plans shattered.’

‘Opportunities born,’ said Mania. ‘An eruption of power so great, it also changed ... us. Afterwards, we were different. Ah, wait, I see it in your eyes. You do recall something, at least.’

Manic spat. ‘You see, we know well who you are. Do not think us fooled, sorceress.’

‘Now, now, my dearest,’ Mania cooed. ‘Let us not rehash old grievances, and besides, this one is not her. Only, a part. The Forlorn One is born anew. A new mind with bits of old memories.’

‘Excuses. I see no difference.’

‘This is uncivilised of you, brother. After all, are we not better off as we are now? You would not see us regress to our former selves, would you? Slaves to darkness and death, no will of our own? All our plans and dreams evaporated?’

Manic grumbled something, but kept his peace.

Lorn felt sick. ‘You created the Grim. This entire world was destroyed by his arrival, wasn’t it? You are both responsible for everything he has done.’

‘Unfair,’ Manic whined. ‘She cannot lay such charges before us. Can she?’

‘Inaccurate,’ said his sister, ‘and false. We darkened his soul. It was what we were. We are shraeds, yes, but we no longer serve Tartaros.’

‘Who do you serve?’

‘Why,’ said Manic, stamping his little foot, ‘ourselves of course. Who else?’

‘Our will is our own, my dear,’ added his sister.

‘The Grim, however,’ Manic fumed, ‘has gone and made our existence intolerable. He allies himself with the others, with those he had sworn to annihilate, to destroy us. We are a greater threat to him.’ His smile was cold, and it was clear he enjoyed his conflict with the Grim, despite his complaints.

Lorn folded her arms and gave them her best glower. ‘Why does he hate you two above the others?’

‘Tartaros is chaos,’ said Manic

‘Chaos is Tartaros.’

Lorn groaned, placing her head in both hands. This was what came of asking shraeds questions, but she needed to understand. All her plans might hinge upon such knowledge. Especially if these two had plots of their own.

‘He desires to rule, to enslave all worlds,’ said Mania. ‘He cannot do so if Tartaros destroys it all.’

‘Besides, this world was ours,’ said Manic. ‘We ruled it and the kobolds who once lived upon it. Ours, all ours.’

‘You mean,’ said Lorn, ‘this world was theirs until you took it, and made them your slaves.’

‘Subjects, my dear.’

‘He had no right,’ whined Manic. ‘It was ours.’

‘With his arrival,’ his sister elaborated, ‘he attempted to overthrow us, to take this world as his. Due to his earlier defeat, we lost part of ourselves to him and part of him to us.’

‘Seems,’ said Lorn raising her head, ‘he did well enough, since he rules the Styx, doesn’t he? It is also known as the Grimstyx these days.’

‘Oh no,’ said Mania, ‘he did not succeed. He is a but a shadow of what he was, and we lured others of our kin. Together, we destroyed this world. It was not he who caused this devastation, but us. Parts of it were torn away to wander the Spectrum. We maintain those fragments as best we can. We admit, we went too far.’

‘To defeat him,’ said Manic.

‘To deny him,’ said his sister. ‘It was still a mistake, made in anger. From Balax, his servant rules as his second, and it has imprisoned all the kobolds it could find. They are what remain of this world besides the fragments.’

Lorn didn’t know what to think. Who had she allied herself with? Oh, don’t be such a fool, she chided herself, you knew they were shraeds. What did you expect? Cute and cuddly? She massaged her temples. ‘Okay, if what you say is true, what is it you want now?’

‘To thwart him,’ said Mania, ‘and—’

‘To make amends,’ Manic muttered. Lorn felt shocked to hear it coming from him, and worse, she found she believed him.

‘To restore this world, and its proper inhabitants,’ said Mania with another glare for her brother, ‘and you will help.’

‘And how exactly will I be doing that?’

‘You will not give yourself up to the Grim as you planned.’

‘Oh?’

‘No, instead, you will give yourself to his Fetch. Although, the timing must be flawless.’

For several minutes, Mania explained their plan. Although Lorn listened, a growing wind began to distract her. Mania stopped mid-sentence, and the twins stared out into the wasteland of the Styx.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Lorn, but they didn’t need to answer.

The wind had gathered into separate funnels, and within each appeared four figures of a nightmarish form with glowing eyes and horns.

Manic wasted no time, and rushing towards them, the shraed attacked, dark magic billowing outwards.

Mania turned to Lorn, her face grave. ‘You need to run, mortal child. Run!’