Chapter Text
Enter the life of a human who does not live, rather, one who exists solely in the eyes of others. An accessory to a corporation, furniture to decorate a grocery store, someone who chooses to be a blank canvas, who hides in the safety of allowing others to make their own impressions of what she is. Concepts of self float at the top of her brain like dead fish; her dreams, her hobbies, her love, and even her very name. To live without herself was to be a corpse; though she was dead, she was free from harm, free from pain, and remained buried in the comfort of consistency. Her alarm clock would make even the most pleasant of dreams end like nightmares, and the blinding sun – beyond Earth, a god in its own right – served as a reminder that she was a slave to fate. So long as it shined on her, she’d have somewhere she needed to be, and something she needed to do; a spotlight that ensured she’d play her role perfectly.
Having scraped the hair off her face and pulled the knots out of her hair, she dressed herself in the only clothes she was allowed to wear, drove down the only road she could ever take, and entered her workplace; a grocery store ten times the size of her parents’ house. The ceilings were high and vacant, fluorescent lights burned brighter than the sun, and the cacophonic chatter of disgruntled customers was ever-present. The years she had worked there blended together; each shelf carried the same item, each customer was the same person, and even her coworkers were complete strangers. Time was warped within the shining white walls; every day felt longer than the last – while every break felt shorter. By the time she clocked out, her eyes were strained, the flats of her feet were swollen, her cheeks were sore from smiling at every customer that glared at her, and all the work she put in to make herself look nice was undone. Her hair was tangled, her face was scruffy, but her uniform remained pristine and permanent.
She strayed; standing still, staring at the time clock kiosk, eyes lingering on the words “See you tomorrow!”
“Are you okay, buddy?” A man asked, waiting behind her.
Although the sun was down, fate's grasp was absolute; whether it was cruelty or mercy, it deigned to cease the beating of her heart. She was on the floor in an instant, her vision fading in and out, with only a burly man and fluorescent lights tying her to the land of the living. In one moment, he was on the phone, yelling for help. In another, he was performing CPR, but she was fading away all the same.
When she slipped away from consciousness, she found herself in the absence; an ocean, pitch black in every direction, where her body and mind were no longer physical, but inferred. Thoughts were substituted for feelings, her senses were drowned by the water that swaddled her, and the very idea that she even had a body quickly faded away. The deeper she sank, the more she knew she would never come back up; she had no time to dwell on regrets, and her mind raced with all that came before.
Her ex loved her. When she held them, she felt as if she was exactly where she needed to be.
She loved to create. Though it was mostly just doodles and ideas for video games that were never made, she gave life by coming up with the characters, and felt as if she made worlds for them to live in.
Every second she spent with her friends was worth it. She showed them so much, gave them so much. She made them smile, and she knew they would smile again.
Though she performed for the sun, there was a time when she stopped performing. When she discovered herself, she made a promise to uphold her identity, and to do whatever she felt was right without hesitation. She named herself after that promise.
She should have fulfilled it. That name has never yet been spoken, and though she had lived a beautiful life, she had yet to live her own.
Swim, little fish.
She paddled and clawed through the ether, refusing to sink. The surface of the ocean could be miles above her, but she wouldn’t stop swimming until she reached it, kicking her feet, cupping her hands, recalling every blurry lesson from the swim classes she had failed. Her stamina was beyond physical limitation, her will alone was carrying her to the surface, and along the way, she collided into something. A person; tall and lanky, flinching away from her touch. She grabbed onto him; whatever he was, be it death itself, another sinking soul like her, or a psychopomp, any sign of existence was one she had to cling to.
As he fought against her, long into the horizon an eyeball opened in the darkness; miles away and miles wide, enough to scare her into holding even tighter. It stared straight at the two, its pupil shrinking, before an unseen blade punctured its orange sclera. Its vitreous bled out into the darkened waters, vibrant and ethereal, and as the torn membrane of the eyeball drifted out into the black, the socket presented a blurry sight of life; a sunny blue sky. Looking through the portal imposed an illusion onto her; the space between herself and the gateway collapsed, it encompassed more and more of her field of view, and before she could look away, that portal became the eyes she saw out of.
Breathe, Whim.
Her back lay atop the cold water of a shallow, gentle river. She could hear her ears plug as the water’s surface rose and fell from the sides of her head. She could taste the salty air, her eyes were bombarded by a bright blue sky, and colorful trees of coral loomed not-far above her, gently gliding by as the river moved her along. Her fingers twitched. Her fingers, her fingers!
Whim made fists of her hands, drank the air, and breathed painful, powerful breaths. Moving her body was a struggle, but she fought as hard as she could, gripping the water, breathing faster, prying her eyes open. She was alive, alive, but that black ocean was still right behind her, and she couldn’t let herself sink again. She sat upright, her feet touching down on the river’s bed, but almost entirely incapable of supporting her balance. All she could do was topple towards land, dig her nails into soft, wet dirt, and claw at the earth, dragging her heavy body through sand and grass. Her hands were made of scorching bright light, she could hardly see their shape at all.
When she resurfaced, she could feel her mind spinning like a top, disabling all of her agency.
“Who-... Who are you?” An irritated voice echoed from within her own mind, clearer than crystal, smooth like stone, yet still tuned for the song of early adulthood.
“WHIM!” The girl quickly answered. “My name is Whim! It’s Whim! It’s Whim!” Every breath to say that name was worth the pain to her. She was still soaked in the black water of the eternal abyss; she couldn’t live without that name anymore.
As she continued to claw across the grass, she saw her own hands begin to take shape – layer by layer. A pinkish red mass of flesh swarmed marrow and organs, pulling itself across the pearly white bones of her fingers and forearms, shaping itself into tightly-packed tendons. More biomass seeped from her bare muscles, coating them in a thin layer of ooze, which soon became skin; light blue, with stitches wrapped around her fingers, her chest, and her legs, holding her together like a cheap stuffed animal. Whim could feel the air on her exposed skin, and the ground beneath her arms. She filled her hands with dirt and grass, and filled her lungs with fire.
“Stop! STOP!” The voice yelled out in desperation. “You’re not supposed to be here! You’re supposed to be dead! Let go!”
“NO!” Whim grit her teeth. She tried to lift herself to her knees, she just needed to walk, to prove she was alive. “I’m not going back! Never, never!”
Her left hand moved of its own volition. Not to help her crawl, but to stop her, grabbing her wrist.
“I won’t let you take this from me!” The voice shouted. “I still… Need to…” He huffed.
The robin egg skin on her left hand started to burn purple, a dark pattern twisting from the fingertips, going beyond her shoulders. One by one, she lost control of different parts of her body, feeling them go numb, and when she felt the nails of her twisted left arm dig into her right, a truth haunted her.
Her left arm no longer belonged to her.
The other presence vied for control of her body, stealing her left foot to plant her toes on the ground, and possessing her left eye to start rapidly blinking. Her body was partitioned like land of a war-torn continent, and she had to fight to keep what she still had, crawling forward on the arm and leg that still belonged to her. The patches of skin that burned from his control were extinguished by her will, tinged with a lighter purple, but there were still portions of flesh that he claimed as his own, which she couldn’t take back.
Though her body was complete, they felt cold. More biomass crawled onto her, hugging her bare skin, thinning itself into soft fabric. When it took shape, she was adorned in a hodge-podge of cloth. A white shirt that was oversized and soft, with one sleeve long and another short. Baggy black pants covered her legs, but they started as plaid pajama pants, and ended as denim bell bottoms.
“Just…” The man struggled to speak. Whim’s left hand loosened.
“You won. Congratulations. Enjoy the new body.” He sighed. The air was clear, there was no more melted flesh, no more changing shape, nor taking color. The storm had passed, and the excruciating pain of being created had halted.
“But I have to-...” Whim strained herself to keep crawling aimlessly forward.
“The ritual is over. Just try to get some rest.” He unenthusiastically advised.
“... What if I don’t wake up?” Whim listlessly ruminated, her arms giving out, gently lowering her face into the grass.
Before he could even give a response, Whim’s eyelids were too heavy to hold open, and she let them fall. Sleep overtook her by force.
The voice could no longer see. He opened his eyes.
Sharp grass on solid dirt lay beneath him, itching his cheeks in the breeze of the salty air.
Stand, Deign.
He lifted himself to his hands and knees; a warm breeze caressing one arm and soft cloth brushing another. The craftsmanship of the clothes was impeccable, as if the intent of every vague wish was perfectly executed, down to the smallest details.
Including the new body he’s trapped in.
Fluffy long hair that was softer than a whisper, pathetic arms that could hardly even throw a punch. Its waist was thin, its hips were wide, and even her skin, though it looked like rags, was silky smooth. It was humiliating; as if the body was designed for comfort above everything, even at the cost of being weak.
Deign’s vision blurred, the world spun, and the pain of breathing caught up to him all at the same time. He wildly stumbled back to the river, closed his eyes tight, and started to dry-heave. It felt like his throat was tugging on his guts, trying to evacuate what was already utterly empty.
“Guards up, we’re close. I can feel it.” The hushed, deadpan tone of a woman accompanied the gentle flow of small rivers.
“Excuse us!” A gentle man spoke up cheerfully. “Are you, um-... busy?”
“You can see she’s trying to puke, right?” An energetic girl retorted.
“Oh!” He paused, “Here, let us help! Mender should be able to cure that illness of yours, she’s a great cleric!”
Deign pulled his head back, his bones weighed like steel, and his brain pulsed with an intense headache. He turned around.
“What do you want?” He spoke, his once sultry smooth voice now reduced to sweet, soft cotton candy. At least the burning pain in his throat helped him sound more grating.
There was a party of four all standing together, with a man covered in fur-lined armor standing in front, quizzically looking back at his friends. While the cleric was shaking her head, the other two stared at her.
The man looked back towards Deign. Underneath all the leathers, furs, and metal was a rabbit; with tall, spiky leaves for ears and cherry-red eyes. Despite his kind smile, his stature was more than intimidating; his robust muscles responsible for the shape of his wintery blue armor.
“We’re looking for someone nearby. He’s about six feet tall,” The enormous rabbit raised his flattened hand up above his head, “he’s a spectral elemental, so he’d have glowing green hair, be covered in wrappings… I was told he’d be wearing a carvaskin mask?”
“Oh! His name! Maybe he told her his name!” A goblin girl with oversized gauntlets raised her hand, jumping up and down.
“Right, his name is Deign. I don’t suppose you saw him pass by here?” The rabbit curiously leaned in.
Deign’s heart dropped. He’d never seen these people before, but if they knew his name, he was in deep. Formulating his best lie, he took a deep breath, ready to speak…
Then collapsed.
“Whoa, hey!” The rabbit rushed forward, picking Deign up off the ground, dusting him off.
Deign groaned; his head felt like it was split open. He watched the knight’s little black nose wiggle as he breathed.
“We have something that can heal her, right!?” The knight looked back at his party.
“I was saving this for a pinch, but…” The goblin ransacked the backpack the rabbit was wearing, pulled out a small, ghostly green potion, then handed it to her bunny friend.
“Thank you!” The knight grinned, turning back to Deign. “Do you feel like you’re able to drink?”
As much as Deign resented his new vessel, he still had to keep himself alive. He filled his lungs to their agonizing capacity just to whimper “Yes.”
The bunnyman lifted Deign’s head off the ground, handed the potion to him, and watched as he slowly downed it. His headache faded, his breathing became much easier, and with his recovered strength, he picked himself up from the knight’s cuddly embrace, taking a good look at the other party members.
“Huh? Do you want to meet my friends?” The knight asked, starting to point and introduce anyway.
“The little goblin girl there is Boot! She’s a brawler, and she’s actually our party’s leader!”
Boot waved with both of her massive cobalt gauntlets, giving a sharp-toothed grin. She wore shiny blue shorts with a white sports bra, looking like some kind of boxer.
“Skip.” Deign rubbed his eyes.
“Oh-...” The bunny’s ears fell.
“Just tell me the names.” Deign waved his hand dismissively.
The knight’s ears perked back up. “Okay! That light elf is Mender.”
He pointed to an incredibly tall, skinny woman adorned in white-and-gold robes. She didn’t wave, she didn’t even smile. Her pale skin was covered in tiny, dark freckles, and her face was framed by straight blonde hair. She was tapping her nails on a small golden scepter, and her eyes couldn’t even meet Deign. Instead, she was inspecting all of their surroundings, like she was expecting an ambush.
Deign glared at the woman.
“And that keroko is Doki!”
Deign turned to a frog-like girl with shiny green skin, big bulbous eyes, and unkempt, forest green hair with a big lock sticking out the top. She dressed herself in tight cloth; blacker than black, tied around her waist and wrapped around her webbed feet, with the neck pulled up to cover her mouth and nose. She was watching Mender in concern.
“Oh, and my name is Chili!” The knight smiled. “What’s yours?”
Deign hesitated to speak, planning out his whole lie ahead of time, expecting to be interrogated. “My name is Whim.”
“Whim, huh? That’s a nice name! So tell us, have you seen who we’re looking for?” Chili stepped forward cautiously.
“Nope.” Deign shrugged. “I just woke up a few minutes ago; haven't seen any elementals since then.” He turned around and walked away from the adventurers, maintaining an airtight composure.
“Wait.” Mender spoke up, but he kept walking. “Hey, wait!”
He stopped in his tracks, then turned around like a whiny teenager with a lopsided center of mass. “What?”
“How did you end up out here?” She followed after the dark sorcerer, clutching her scepter tighter.
His eyes glanced at her tightened fist for a brief moment. “A palm golem punched me here, all the way from Volcana. He might be destroying my home right now, so-...” He quickly turned around and walked away from the group.
“And you just happened to be punched into the exact empty coral field where Deign is supposed to be?” The cleric scowled, the glass bauble at the end of her scepter being filled with shimmering yellow magic.
Though he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest, Deign widened his eyes and cowered before the light of Mender’s scepter. “D-Don’t hurt me! I swear to Hymarah, I didn’t see him! You don’t have to kill me over it!”
“Hey, hey! Easy, Mendy! You’re scaring her!” Boot caught up to her cleric to grab her white robes.
Mender shook her head and stepped away from Deign, looking down at her leader. “Boot, something isn’t right. I can’t place what it is, but the mana here is-... I-... I can’t think straight! It’s just wrong!”
Doki peered at Deign, whose eyes were still glued to Mender’s scepter. “Describe it.”
“It’s an absurdly powerful feeling, stronger than any sorcerer, and… It feels old and dead.” The cleric tugged on her hair. “That, and-...”
“And what?” Chili leaned in, his leafy ears standing up straight.
“Well… I couldn’t tell you why, but-... I sense a rift here, too. There could be a human nearby.” The cleric whispered.
“Hey, I told you all I know. I’m gonna leave before my house gets destroyed.” Deign waved with his left hand, revealing something to Doki that not even he knew was present: a mouth. Long, stake-like teeth formed an airtight seal across his palm, marking that his body was not made by any natural means.
Doki shouted as she watched him leave, “DEIGN!”
The dark sorcerer stopped in his tracks, then realized that he absolutely should not have stopped in his tracks when he heard that name. Save face, save face! He turned around with wide eyes. “Did you find him?”
Before he could say another word, Doki leapt after him, pulling down her mask and shooting her tongue out of her mouth to grab him by the waist, swing him through the air, and slam him into the ground. The impact made him bite his tongue, and taste Whim’s blood.
“Doki! What the heck!?” Boot yelled.
“Don’t you get it!? Deign became a lich!” Doki shouted as she hung in the air, drawing her knives from her belt, using water magic to spin like a razorblade as she fell back down onto the dark sorcerer.
Deign rolled out of the way just before Doki’s knives dug into the ground, taking the opportunity to punch her as hard as he could with a fist wreathed in dark energy. When he shook the pain out of his knuckles, he saw his palm, and his face turned pale.
The rogue was separated from her knives, tumbling across the grass and crashing into a tall, hollow stalk of yellow coral. Her cheek swelled, both her jaw and her spine being knocked out of position.
A wave of confusion washed over Boot, but she rushed to assist her keroko friend first and foremost. “How do you know??”
“Normal people don’t have mouths on their hands! With that, he can bend and break reality with as much ease as speaking, and that includes shapeshifting into an innocent girl!”
Deign lifted his left arm to wipe the blood off his lips, but his hand was quickly grabbed by a vine cast from Mender’s scepter. He was pulled across the grass to her side, his wrist twisted for her to get a good look.
Deign’s right hand belched a purple plume, and from it he drew a shadowy kitchen knife, cutting the cleric’s vine and then swinging at her neck.
“Doki is right.” Mender stated, carefully using her scepter to block Deign’s slash with a loud clang. “We’re fighting someone who has the world at spellpoint. It’s our duty as Runeans to end him as soon as possible. Boot, Doki, you’re up!” The cleric commanded. The magic from her scepter turned yellow, and released an explosion of light magic, sending Deign flying across the sand, landing at the feet of the brawler and the rogue. To provide support, Mender fired healing missiles at the two.
“You heard her, Doki!” Boot imbued her gauntlets with the azure power of electricity. “Let’s-”
Deign quickly lifted his hand, blasting Boot with a bolt of the same ghostly magic that was used to heal him. It passed through her head without a trace, but it took from her the essence of life itself, and caused her to drop to the ground. She didn’t even have time to flinch.
“Boot!” The rogue shouted, rushing to check her vitals, but the leader’s body was quickly pulled away by another vine from Mender.
“Focus on the fight, Doki!” The cleric yelled. “Chili, cover me!”
The rabbit scrambled, running in front of Mender and drawing his sword and shield, gluing his eyes to Deign.
Deign pulled Doki’s knives from the dirt and strengthened his arms with spectral magic to hurl them into the sky, far beyond sight.
Doki leapt high into the air, then slung her tongue towards the lich. It passed right over his shoulder and stuck to the ground, allowing the rogue to rapidly pull herself forward and kick Deign in the head, flinging him onto his back and cracking his skull on the earth.
Deign struggled to heal himself with more spectral magic, but Doki was quick to stop him, pinning his wrists to the ground with her knees, tying his legs up with her tongue, and placing her hands on his head. She imbued her arms with the power of water, and began to charge a devastating spell.
“Menderrr, how’s Boot doing?” Chili asked, grinding his teeth.
Mender panicked, constantly zapping her leader with electricity, giving her chest compressions, fighting as hard as she could to keep her friend alive. Fearing the worst, she cast an analysis spell on the body, watching yellow words and numbers spin around her arm.
Deign kicked and writhed against Doki’s grasp, his train of thought becoming a traffic jam of unusable options. His arms were still somewhat bent, so he couldn’t cast any spells at all.
“I…” The lich hyperventilated. “Y-You mentioned a human, I know where she is!”
Doki kept her arms bent so she wouldn’t cast her spell. “Speak.”
“We share a vessel! If you kill me, you kill her, too!” He pleaded.
The keroko puffed air in and out of her nostrils, sternly glaring at the lich, taking a brief glance at his hand.
“Doki? What are you doing?” Chili asked as he looked on.
Doki hesitated to say what was on her mind. “... Weighing my options!”
“Do you think I’m lying?! Look at my ears, they’re the ears of a human!” Deign tried to turn his head, but couldn’t. “I can’t shapeshift! I wouldn’t be pinned if I could!”
The keroko was silent, staring miles through the eyes of Deign, as if she didn’t hear a single word from his mouth.
“Doki! We can’t let a human die!” The rabbit argued, stepping closer.
The rogue made her choice, extended her arms, and-
Chili tackled the keroko to the ground, freeing the lich, and causing the rogue to cast her spell elsewhere, firing paper-thin jets of water out against the terrain, slicing coral and nearly chopping down trees.
Doki looked her friend in the eyes, frozen in shock, her chest rising and falling.
“I-... I won’t let you!” Chili stared the keroko down. “I don’t want him to live, but if there’s an innocent person in there, we can’t just kill her!”
“Chili…” Doki was bathed in shame, like a million eyes were all looking at her, judging her, calling her a murderer.
Just as the two’s eyes were locked, Deign picked himself up off the ground, charged a spectral spell, and took aim at the rogue and the knight.
“GET BEHIND ME!” Mender shouted, jumping between the undead sorcerer and her friends. She quickly summoned a shield of light, reflecting a powerful spectral bolt as it shot out of the lich’s hand. Without missing a beat, she rushed Deign with healing magic, bludgeoning him with her scepter, covering him in swelling bruises.
“What about Boot?” Chili spoke up.
“Boot is dead!” Mender growled. “Stop using your devoted elements, use healing magic! This isn’t a moral dilemma, we need to kill him!”
Each swing from the cleric’s scepter exploded on impact, harmless to her allies, but devastating to Deign. His skin burned clean off, the smell of smoke hit his nose, he could hear his – Whim’s – bones shatter. Mender’s words echoed in his mind.
“Kill him.”
Deign wasn’t just fighting to hide his existence as a lich, he was fighting for his own life. He grabbed the scepter in his left hand, feeling its healing light scald his skin. He grit his teeth and pried it away, tossing it to the floor to disarm the cleric.
Mender dusted her fists with healing magic and began to swing wildly at Deign, each punch punctuated by a powerful, painful explosion, but her arms were long, and her form was sloppy.
Deign ducked out of the way of one of her attacks, threw the cleric to the ground with her own momentum, aimed his hand at the back of her head, and blasted a volley of spectral bolts, swiftly ending her life.
“Doki, go get Phantomora!” Chili shouted, running at Deign and bashing him to the ground with his shield. His gear – while appearing to be steel at first – was now imbued with dazzling healing magic, his shield searing Deign’s chest like a hot stove.
“No! I can’t leave you here alone!” Doki shouted.
“We need a plan B! If we both fail here, he’ll get away with killing our friends!” Chili explained, pressing his sword to Deign’s neck in an effort to decapitate him. “Go!”
Deign shrouded his hands in the element of darkness, grabbing the blade and fighting against the knight’s strength with every ounce of his being.
“You’re pathetic!” Deign hissed. “You’re giving it your all to kill a girl! An innocent human girl!”
Chili tried to tune out the lich’s words, emboldening his healing magic, making it glow brighter and brighter, slowly casting away the purple smoke that fortified his enemy’s hands.
“This isn't my body!” The dark sorcerer continued. “It's hers! Her face, her hair, her eyes! Your sword is pressed to her neck, not mine!”
The rabbit’s focus started to waver, his magic got weaker, and his own strength started to wane. He imagined how scared the girl must feel, how happy she must’ve been when she was in her own world. He imagined the possibility of separating her from the lich, that someone – some time – could do it.
The knight released the lich.
Without a second thought, Deign put his hand on the side of Chili’s head, blasting him with a spectral laser point-blank and ending him like his friends.
Leaves rustled in the distance, accompanied by the sound of a tongue whipping through the air and sticking to trees. The rogue was escaping.
Deign pushed Chili off his body, healing all of his burns and broken bones with a potent spectral aura. He tried to stand up, but gravity pushed him to his knees.
“No, come on…” He spoke, prying his eyes open as he crawled forward. “I can’t sleep yet…”
Deign slowed to a halt, the pull of rest overpowering his every action; it forced his eyes shut, disabled his arms and legs, and made his face fall into the grass.
Breathe, Whim.
Whim awoke with a loud gasp, her lungs sunken deep into her chest, as if she had just awoken from a nightmare.
“What happened?” The girl asked, looking everywhere around her.
Several species of coral painted her field of vision, growing out of gentle rivers, standing no higher than twice her size. They captured each color of the rainbow, and took on several intricate shapes; from branching trees to smooth-tipped towers, and spheres thoroughly covered in flowing rivers. Tubes of coral bent towards the island she stood on, spouting crystalline water through the air like fountains, and watering patches of little white flowers that crept across the grass, inching towards…
Corpses.
Whim's legs went cold. The sight paralyzed her, further driven by the fact that they weren't even humans. Soft fur, green skin, pointy ears, her eyes darted between each mind-bending cadaver. The sound of her breaths overtook all the flowing water, all the gentle breezes. She was locked in this state for minutes, until she saw the flowers crawling up the cheek of the rabbit man.
She yelped and crawled forward as fast as she could to brush the flowers off. "No! Bad flowers! Don't grow there!" She scolded, swatting at their soft petals.
The miniature flowers hissed at her, and jumped through the air to latch onto her arm, covering it in tiny, stinging bites. They leapt with six long, root-like legs, and slowed their descent by fluttering their petal-like wings. These “flowers” didn't grow from the well-watered dirt, but instead bred in it, rapidly multiplying and migrating towards fresh food.
Which – in that moment – just so happened to be Whim.
"AHHH! Get off!" Whim yelped, slapping the petalbugs that gnawed on her arm, killing them by the handful. When their bodies dropped to the ground, they turned black, then exploded into little puffs of clouds.
They continued to swarm Whim in droves, covering her arm in fluttering petals and harsh pinches. She shook her arm as fast as she could, accidentally karate-chopping the rabbit man's body.
"Ah! I'm sorry!" She frowned, hurriedly brushing and slapping all of the pesky critters off of her skin.
In her distraction, however, the corpse was now utterly engulfed in a bed of writhing flowers.
"No!!!" Whim reached forward and grabbed his shoulders. "Wake up, bunny guy! Wake up! Bugs are eating you!!"
The horror of the situation clawed at Whim's mind, tearing apart everything she thought she knew about the world, and allowing fear to flood out from the cracks – as vicious as a waterfall.
Whim rolled the body over and began to give it chest compressions, singing to herself.
Her innocence seeped from her eyes, sparkling in the afternoon sun, dripping onto the knight’s coat. Each breath was tinged with the sickening fragrance of petalbugs, every time she blinked she wished she was looking at something else, but it was inescapable; it surrounded her from every direction, through every sense. Her tears poured like an open wound, but that wasn’t who she was.
Whim rubbed her eyes with her wrists, shut them tight, and kept all of the tears in. She swallowed the knot in her throat and stomped every stressful thought down like her mind was an overfilled trash can. Don’t panic, don’t worry. There’s nothing you can do. That other person in her body didn’t do this. You didn’t do this. They’re not in danger. Someone else can help.
They’ll get up, like you did.
Like you did.
Whim let go of the knight and picked herself back up onto her feet. Restless eyes were pried from the bodies and fixed to the horizon; the palm trees, the coral, and the closest thing to civilization she could find; a volcano miles and miles away. Just be strong, Whim. Just be-
The ground shook as a large, heavy object slammed into the earth behind her. Whim picked up the pace, she couldn’t look back to check, no matter what.
“You!” A woman’s voice boomed, as if amplified by speakers.
Whim dropped to her knees as soon as she heard someone speak.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do, CPR wasn’t working! I don’t have a phone, I don’t know where to go for help! I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do!” She pleaded, slowly turning around to see the woman.
A woman in sleek, bulky armor stood before her, walking closer; arm-crushing boots flattening the ground, head-squeezing gauntlets balled into fists, both forged in sleek black metal, with a folly red wetsuit coloring the empty, unarmored spaces. The whole ensemble was framed in a big black hooded cloak.
Whim stammered, “Please, call someone! Find someone! I don’t want them to die!”
“That’s a first.” The woman stated. Her head was sealed in a perfectly-spherical helmet with a red LED screen on the front, projecting two circles and a triangle to represent the woman’s face. Her voice didn’t come from her mouth, but her armor. Her circular eyes turned to semicircles, resembling furrowed eyebrows.
Whim’s eyes widened as the woman stomped closer. “Hey… y-you don’t think I did this… right?”
The armored woman didn’t speak, instead electing to grab Whim by the front of her shirt, lift her to her feet, and fling her up into the air. Whim screamed as the ground disappeared from beneath her feet and the wind blew through her hair.
The woman jumped remarkably high, meeting Whim in the sky before spiking her into the earth, shattering the small island, knocking all of the air out of the girl’s lungs, and sending a lightning bolt of pain all throughout her body.
“Drop the act, Deign!” The woman shouted, her voice loudly echoing from above.
Whim gasped for air as the woman came crashing down, breathing in as much as she could to shout back, “Who’s Deign!?”
Whim’s dominion over her left arm was stolen once more, as it reached up into the air on its own, and cast out a purple cloud of darkness; taking the shape of a solid bubble. When the armored woman landed, the shock pervaded the dome, rippling through with an otherworldly wobbling sound.
“It ends here! All the lies, all the pain, all of it! Every last fucking thing!” The woman shouted, holding out an open hand towards the shield. The forearm of her gauntlet twisted, clicking like the chamber of a revolver, before blasting the shield with a flashbang of bright yellow light. Her heavy boots stomped down on each side of Whim, and from the smoke of the broken barrier, a gauntlet reached forward to hold her up by her neck.
“I’m glad you’re a lich.” The woman choked as she stared into Whim’s eyes. “You don’t deserve an afterlife.”
Whim was trying to plead for her life, but her throat was gripped shut.
A familiar voice returned, guiding Whim’s actions. “Put the back of your left hand up to your mouth! Now! We need to get out of here!” It yelled.
Whim followed exactly, having no time to question anything.
Unintelligible whispers filled the air, gliding past Whim’s ears like a swarm of fruit flies. Beneath Whim’s feet – a circle was drawn; as if someone jammed a dull knife into the flesh of existence, haphazardly carved through its skin, and let its cosmic blood spill from the markings.
Deign reached forward, opening the mouth on his hand before biting the hero’s forearm, forcing her to let go and drop them into the portal below.
There was nothing but open air beneath Whim’s feet for a moment, and her vision went completely black, until she fell atop something large, soft, and dry, landing flat on her back. Her heart was racing, and her breaths were short; cut off by the pain of bending ribs. Whim stared up at the ceiling, seeing an open wound hanging in front of her; dripping with the ether of absence, slowly pulsing, closing, healing. The room was nearly pitch black, but she could tell she was lying on a bed.
“Extend your arms.” The voice sighed as haunting aquamarine mist swirled from Whim’s fingertips to her elbows.
She followed, and the haunting aura crept across her entire body, passing through her skin, alleviating her pain and repairing her wounds. She took a refreshingly deep breath just to ask, “Is your name Deign?”
“It is.” He answered.
“What happened?”
Deign paused for a moment.
"Deign?" Whim asked again.
"I don’t know. Goodnight."
Left in silence, she looked down at the rest of the dark room. There was a window to the left of her, and a closet against the wall. The door to this bedroom was at the far right side, without a single bit of light shining through. The whole apartment was stained with the odor of smoke, but with a more floral, almost cinnamon-like undertone that dispelled her fears of a fire.
Whim lifted herself up. “Deign?”
She twisted, let her legs hang off the side of the bed, brought herself to her feet, and dripped water onto the soft, squishy carpet. A vanity stared back at her atop the dresser, beckoning her to move closer. What she saw was familiar, but unusual at the same time. Dark purple hair, and mismatched skin stitched together like rags; light blue, with a patch of plum over her eye. She ran her fingers along the stitches, they were firm, tight, and painless, framing her bright violet eyes.
Whim began to shiver, the wet clothes weighing down her body, and her wet hair pulling on her head. As she disrobed, she saw more of her new form. Myriad stitches and patches decorated a short, narrow-shouldered, and wide-hipped figure. It was bizarre, macabre, inhuman, and – her. For the first time ever, she actually saw herself.
That was until she saw her left arm; dark purple from shoulder to fingertip, punctuated by a horrific mouth on the palm of her hand. She yelped, holding it as far away from her body as possible, covering her face with her right hand…
… but nothing happened. Whim peeked through her fingers, faced her hand towards herself, and stared at the mouth. Its teeth were long and sharp, locked perfectly together like a zipper, lacking lips to cover them. She closed her hand, feeling her skin slide across the teeth to maintain mobility, then opened her palm and flexed her fingers, shivering when the mouth opened. She relaxed her hand, closing the mouth, focusing back on her main objective: dry clothes. She yanked the bedsheets off of the bed and used them as improvised towels to dry her hair and body.
The closet was full of strange ensembles; magic robes of multiple colors and styles dangled on hangers, and rolls of sports tape littered the floor beneath. Flipping through her options, she saw gaudy pajama pants covered in cartoon characters, baggy graphic tees, and oversized pants ranging from lightly worn to utterly destroyed. Whim pulled a white V-neck over her head, stepped into a perforated pair of black jeans, and violently stretched the waistband past her hips.
Across the bedroom, laying on the mattress, she noticed a smartphone. Too curious not to take it and snoop through it, she turned it on and was met with a password-protected lock screen, with a picture of several overly-simplified, cutesy animals and bubble letters reading “Don’t forget to smile!” above the keypad. At that point, Whim seriously questioned if she was in Deign’s place of residence, but she decided to stuff the phone in her pocket anyway and keep exploring.
Whim walked out of the bedroom to a dark and silent hallway, first noticing a living room to her right, littered with open books written in an unknown language. Between a small TV against the wall and a stain-covered couch, a coffee table supported a full ashtray and several empty cans. Just beyond the living room, Whim was beckoned by the low hum of a refrigerator. She stepped into the kitchen, swung open the fridge door, and was immediately bombarded with the vomitous stench of seafood and corpses.
Her eyes locked with a giant, shiny yellow eyeball sitting on one of the shelves; it stared at her with a sharp pupil – unable to blink, only able to cry – and fill the bowl it floated inside of, its tears spilling over into a wet paper towel. Behind it was a collection of tupperware containers and vials stacked like a storage facility, labeled things like “Hands of willing subjects”, “Tears shed at the unforgettable”, “Blood of a pure-hearted human”, “Juice from forbidden fruit”, and “Pizza”. Whim averted her eyes and looked towards the top shelf. Above all the harvested organs sat rows and rows of energy drinks tightly packed together; on one side, a blue drink called “Tonicola Classic” and on the other, a red drink labeled “Tonicola Forge”.
Her appetite soured, Whim shut the door and took a seat at the kitchen table, taking in the details of her new home. There was an empty cat bowl on the floor, and a mask lying on the table. It was round, tapering into three points at the bottom, with two big black circles for eyes and a chevron big enough to span across the nose and the mouth. She reached for it to take a closer look; it was made of carved wood, and the surface felt exceptionally smooth to the touch. The inside, however, was covered in some kind of moss. She set it down and stood up; it was probably for the best that she didn’t put on the mask of a guy that stores body parts in his fridge. With nothing to eat and nothing to do, Whim kicked her feet into Deign’s black platform shoes, and swung the front door open.
Stepping out into the bright hallways of the apartment complex, Whim peered at rows of wooden doors numbered in the 300s. The hard carpet she walked on bore a blue gemstone design, illuminating the halls in place of any proper lights. A chemical scent clung to the air; sweet and bitter, like lemons and bleach. Whim watched the numbers on the doors, and counted down as the chatter of their residents passed her by. 322, 320, 318. When she turned the corner, her gaze fell on a person. Somewhat muscular, and taller than her.
At last! Whim’s mind was filled with all sorts of questions she could ask them, but they quickly became indistinct as she contemplated the largest hurdle; the fact that she looked like a freak. However, when she noticed gills on the stranger’s neck, her attitude changed entirely. His skin was shining obsidian, his ears were fins, and his body was glowing with small colorful bioluminescent spots. Whim’s eyes widened, she stepped forward, and blurted out what was on her mind.
“I love your-!” She hesitated. What was she supposed to say? Body? That’d be creepy.
“-... s-scales! The glowy scales! They look really awesome!” She smiled, nodding confidently. Nailed it.
“Huh?” The fishy stranger looked down at her, then glanced at his own arms, turning them over. “Oh, thank you! I don’t really get compliments like that…”
“How did you get them to do that?” Whim slowly stepped closer, giving the stranger enough time to step away if they didn’t want her to look up-close at his arm.
“I… guess… be born?” He furrowed an eyebrow. “Maybe vitamin D?”
Whim nodded intently, trying her best to keep her composure from the bombshell that is ‘fish people are real’. “Okay, cool! Have a good night!”
“Uh – you too.” The fish person waved, passing Whim, giving her a strange look as they turned the corner.
Whim sealed her lips tight, race-walking toward the elevators, nervously smiling wide. As soon as she found herself in front of the elevator doors, she stood on black marble flooring, and looked outside windows as tall as the walls themselves. She magnetized towards them, rushing up to put her hands on the glass and stare out into the world.
Spires of natural rock scattered the skyline, with spirals of gravity-defying water – imbued with emissive blue smoke – coiling from top to bottom, pouring into flowing rivers like roots from a tree. From these spires, stems of water branched out into the air – and supported pieces of land that houses were built upon; with glowing windows sparkling like the stars were pulled from the sky. Vehicles resembling submersibles glided through the sky, propellers spinning fast, splashing water out of thin air. Whim watched the water fall to the ground; the droplets disappeared towards unpainted streets flowing with colorful, luminous people making their daily commute. On the edges of the streets, rivers flowed with the traffic of swimming fish people, leading right back to the roots of the spires. This type of scene stretched on for miles before it was replaced by white forests on the horizon; whose radiance shed light onto the empty black sky.
Whim slammed her hand on the elevator call button; her heart racing and feet kicking; pumping her fists.
Ding! The doors slowly opened, and Whim jumped in as fast as possible, startling a couple that was stepping off in the process.
“Watch where you’re jumping!” A human with scaly black thigh-highs advised. Her friend, a fish girl with webbed hands and moonlight eyes, held her arm
“Sorry!” Whim smiled, pressing the ground floor button with laser focus, before turning to see that the elevator was windowed!
The doors slowly closed, the carriage hissed, and it began to make the sound of water being poured on a hot pan. As it descended, the spires progressively stretched high into the sky, and the people grew ever closer. The elevator hummed gently, and a calm, feminine voice spoke over the speakers.
“On this hero's appreciation day, it’s important for us to thank the heroes that work hard to let us safely live our lives. Phantomora the artificer, Nuzzle the trapper, and Gnash the eidolist. Thank you. Thanks to them, we can live a better life. One where we don’t have to fight monsters, whe-."
Ding! The elevator stopped, and so too did the ad.
As the doors opened, Whim stood on black stone flooring, and saw a black sign reading “Reception/Exit” pointing left, glowing white. Whim walked, her sneakers knocking softly on the hard floor. The reception desk was right next to the exit, with rows of mailboxes packed together, and a bookcase full of numbered books standing behind the receptionist. The receptionist herself looked to be some kind of bat-person, with her body covered in black fur, wings splayed behind her back, and tall, pointy ears sticking out from behind the newspaper her face was buried in. Her uniform was just a black t-shirt with the building’s logo on it, and her arms were painted with intricate patterns of luminous orange.
“Can I help you?” The receptionist asked, folding the paper onto her lap, exposing her equally-intricate glowing face paint.
“No, I’m just heading out!” Whim waved, walking towards the glass doors.
“‘Kay. Remember, there are no heroes today, so be careful out there.” The bat girl shrugged, burying her face back in the paper.
Whim swung the doors open, being hit with a wave of warm humidity that made every breath taste a little wet. She ran out into the street, taking in all the sights of the amazing new world she found herself in. Groups of people walked together, happily chatting to one another, dressed and painted in glowing dye of all different colors and designs. She walked with the crowd and looked up at the black sky, seeing the light from the towering spires shine on a massive black metal frame composed of circles and supports, forming a glass dome over the whole entire region. She heard music resonating from every store she walked past, and street vendors waving at her, trying to grab her attention.
“Crab rolls! Crunchy, creamy, and savory! Just ten bobbles each for a quick snack while you walk!” A vendor called out, the warm scent of the fried wraps beckoning Whim more than the voice ever could.
Whim continued to look towards the sky; she saw the underbellies of the houses built near spires, watching people swim up the spiraling rivers, through the branches, and into their homes. The flying machines that filled the humid air showered the ground with a cool, light drizzle, giving the constant impression of gentle rainfall.
“Getting thirsty?” A voice from a low-quality speaker asked. “Tonicola has all your favorite flavors!”
Looking forward, Whim walked beneath archways of gravity-defying water; they leaned forward, letting swimmers on the right side of the road to cross to the left. Then, all in unison, the arches waved, bending backward, letting the left pass to the right. Whim lost herself staring at that slow rhythm, and the people that danced to it, watching them pass by like a nebula of colors drifting across a night sky, threading land and sea. Overcrowded chatter never sounded so musical to her, nor a city more beautiful.
“FOUND YOU!” The armored woman’s voice rang from the humid air, pushing through all the sounds of the city.
Whim turned around to see her hovering overhead, jets blasting from her boots. The name “Phantomora” quickly worked its way into every conversation on the street as the crowd cleared in a very wide radius of Whim, encircling her in an arena of ogling pedestrians. Whim was too fearful to scream, instead attempting to run into the crowd, but they avoided her like the plague, maintaining the considerable berth and giving Phantomora a perfect landing pad to crash into. With citizens jumping into the water and scrambling to evacuate the street, all that remained was the lich and the hero. Whim was sweating from head to toe, her hands were shaking like a chihuahua, and she could hardly take a full breath; she was in a lion’s den.
“Deign, Deign! Wake up! She’s back!” Whim whispered to herself before raising her voice, “H-Hey! Phantomora, right? Listen, this is all one big misunderstanding!” She pleaded as she backpedaled, “I’m Whim, Deign is-... Deign is…” Come to think of it, what was Deign?
The hero didn’t waste time speaking, charging towards Whim with a jet-propelled tackle, slamming helmet-first into her stomach and gripping her forearms. The speed of her tackle dragged Whim across the street, tearing holes in her cheap shirt and scraping road rash into her shoulder blades. Whim grit her teeth and tears seeped from her heliotrope eyes, she fought as hard as she could to escape the hero’s grasp, but she couldn’t budge an inch.
Deign took a sharp breath through his unseen teeth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Heal! Heal!” he pleaded, causing Whim’s arms to swirl with aquamarine magic once more.
“I can’t reach my arms out!” Whim bucked and squirmed, but her wrists were pinned, and Phantomora was straddling her body. All she could do was kick heavy metal.
Phantomora gazed upon the magic that enveloped Whim’s arms, tightening her grip and releasing a sparkling yellow magic from her palms, scalding the girl’s patchwork skin. As she slowly eradicated Whim, the screen on her helmet displayed no face, just a blank red canvas. “I didn’t want it to be me, Deign.” She sullenly whispered, though the speakers on her armor carried her voice much louder. “You shouldn’t have gone this far.”
Whim clung to Phantomora’s assumptions as her last chance at life. “Y-You’re right! I’ll take a step back, reevaluate myself! No more evil Deign from here on out! Pinky promise!” the magic burned brighter, and the feeling in her arms was fading. “PINKY PROMISE!”
Deign forcefully took control of Whim’s left arm, twisting her wrist, trying to pull the back of her hand back in front of her mouth.
“I’M NOT DEIGN!” Whim begged. “My name is Whim, I work retail! I don’t belong in this world, but you shouldn’t kill me over it! Please!”
The face returned to Phantomora’s helmet, and its eyes were wide. “You what?” Her grip loosened, and she ended the spell that scalded Whim’s skin. “But how can you-...”
Her arms freed, Whim scrambled backwards and held out her hand, begging the hero to stop attacking. Her right arm was outstretched, and her palm was facing straight towards Phantomora’s face.
“... cast magic?” As soon as the words left the hero’s mouth, Whim’s arm was wreathed in dark purple, and an explosion of umbral magic shattered her helmet in a split second.
“DEIGN!” Whim called out in despair as she pulled her hand back, then crawled forward to check on the hero.
“She wants us dead, Whim!” Deign seized control over her left arm, clasping his hand over her eyes and pushing her head back. “I’m not going to let you get us killed!”
“But she stopped-” Whim’s argument was cut short by Phantomora’s gauntlet punching her square in the face, sending her spinning through the air in a watery corkscrew, and splashing onto the ground.
“That’s it! I’m sick of your tricks!” Phantomora yelled as she blasted forward, grabbed Whim by the collar of her shirt, and used the momentum to throw her through one of the archways of water and into the wall of a brick building, following-up by breaking through the water and pinning Whim to the wall by her head, only allowing her to peer between the hero’s fingers. No matter how Whim flailed, her arms were shorter than the hero’s, and she couldn’t lay a finger on her. Deign didn’t relent, grabbing Phantomora’s elbow and disabling it with a blast of dark magic. Whim was dropped, and she leapt out of the way of the hero.
Phantomora was undeterred, pursuing Whim with the only other arm she could still feel, grabbing her left wrist and lifting her up off the ground. With Whim’s arm fully extended, Deign took the opportunity to cast another spell, dispensing a ghostly fog from her hand, healing Whim’s injuries and draining Phantomora’s energy. The hero tried to step out of the fog, but she fell to her knee instead. With life fleeing her body, her grip loosened, she staggered onto her hands and knees, and, despite her efforts, lay down on the concrete. The screen on her broken helmet was severely glitching.
“Robot lady!” Whim dropped to her knees to tend to the woman, “Are you okay? Can I cast a healing spell? Do you need me to push any buttons?”
“Don’t heal her, run!” Deign urged.
The fog dissipated, Phantomora quickly regained her strength, and she began pushing against the ground, ready to fight some more. Deign acted on instinct, overtaking Whim’s arm to conjure another cloud to pull his knife from, before pressing it to the hero’s neck. Phantomora’s eyes widened, and beads of pixelated sweat scrolled down her screen.
“For fuck’s sake, there! If you’re so insistent on talking to her, talk! See where it goes!” He impatiently demanded.
Whim’s eyes glanced between the knife and Phantomora’s helmet, taking a deep breath to collect her thoughts. “... My name is Whim, I’m a human from Earth, and I just entered this world today! I don’t know what you have against Deign, but he’s been protecting me from getting killed by you!”
“Whim?” Phantomora took deep breaths, “Weird name… you from America?”
“Yeah!” Whim’s eyes brightened.
“Who’s the second president, then?”
“Oh, man…” Whim looked up at the sky for a long while. “Andrewww… Jacksoooonnnn?”
The hero was silent.
"Wait, wait! Thomas Jefferson!"
The eyes on Phantomora’s screen sparkled. “You’re a human!”
Deign withdrew the knife, allowing Phantomora to gently grab both of Whim’s hands, and stare into her eyes thoughtfully. As the heat of battle faded, the calming flow of the waterways was all that Whim could hear, and the fractured facets of the hero’s helmet glimmered like a gemstone.
“Yeah, I…” Her eyes darted to the hero’s hands, and back up at her electronic face. “Am I off the hook now?”
Phantomora roughly pulled on Whim’s hands, bunching them together in her left hand as she used her right to twist her gauntlet and cycle through spells.
“Damn it! Are you happy!?” Deign growled, using every ounce of strength he had to fight against Phantomora’s grip. “It’s just like I told you! We’re as good as dead now, thanks to your shitty decision to talk! Fuck, I shouldn’t have-…”
Frigid fog poured from Phantomora’s palm as she lifted Whim’s hands, encasing her neck and wrists in cuffs of ice shackled together by short, sturdy chains. Once the binds had formed, Whim was dropped onto the ground. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t outstretch her arms, and only strangled herself by pulling on her chains. Phantomora hooked her finger underneath the link between Whim’s wrists, and lifted her up to her feet.
“Don’t whine, this is the best you’ll get.” The hero turned, tugging Whim along, “I’ll take you to the Great Leader, and he can decide if your life is worth more than Deign’s death.”