The Strangest Stranger

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The Strangest Stranger

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zakhar was a roaming traveler without a destination. When he came upon the leering stone walls, he knew he came upon the venerable town of Ironforge. Overhead, the skies were darkening with thick, coiling storm clouds. There was also a deafening stillness that Zakhar knew fully well foretold a powerful storm.

He stopped in the middle of the heavily-trodden dirt path he had been venturing on, pot holes littering its middle like holes on a wheel of cheese. Ironforge’s chief export for this realm was its coal mines. It was not a clean human resource, nor was coalmining a generous work force for miners, but thanks to the content it brought, the town had withstood the test of time. From this distance, he could see how little its stone walls had eroded with the land’s vitriolic, spontaneous weather. The buildings within may have changed or have been rebuilt, but those walls would stand for centuries to come. Unless, Zakhar thought in brief contemplation, watching as the clouds overhead continued coiling like snakes, someone decided to blast those walls down with forces far more powerful than rain and wind. Though he normally enjoyed venturing in the rain, especially if there was lightning, he thirsted for a pint of mead. Truly, he yearned for a glass of vodka, but in this area of the world, Easteners preferred lighter spirits. It was a rarity in itself when he discovered an inn with liquor on its shelves.

Zakhar was a lover of misanthropy. Namely, he hated towns or cities because they contained people. The bigger they were and the higher population they had�"the more he would rather walk the extra miles around its exterior, even if there was no path to guide his way. On most days, Zakhar detested the idea of social interactions more than BLANK.

In all the hundreds of miles between Goldenleaf and Ironforge, Zhakar that that the barren landscape was a beauty unrivaled by any other realm. Beauty, of course, was subjective according to its viewer. To Zhakar, the land of Ironforge’s beauty was a result of its lack of life. There was something settling about travelling amongst a sandy, desert landscape with only shrubs serving as vegetation and seeing only the occasional auburn-furred fox scampering in his path. The only aspect of this land that he had a love-hate relationship with was the jagged, dirt paths that often led to a necromancer’s den. To high hells with those imbeciles, Zakhar thought darkly, continuing on with his trek to Ironforge.

What felt like moments before, he had walked straight into a young boy in necromancer robes that were enchanted far beyond his novice capabilities. How he got his hands on that robe was beyond even Zakhar’s imagining. By thieving, perhaps. The boy had been trying to summon Tamno, the god of darkness, perhaps to plead for vengeance on the band of thieves who had murdered his family before his eyes, all for a few family heirlooms to profit from. Zakhar saw right through the boy; he could have barely been 13 years of age. Little did the child know that the so-called dark god did not exist, though many people in this Eastern part of the world worshipped him. It was a good thing Zhakar’s robe was black; it hid the boy’s blood from prying eyes.

A god of darkness, Zakhar thought to himself, clicking his tongue in mild annoyance, but his eyebrows softened with understanding as he continued surveying the barren landscape outside Ironforge. He had spent a great deal of time reading the historical chronicles of the realms, including this one, as it was part of the Liath Isles�"which held one of the most interesting stories. But in this land, surrounding Ironforge, there was a deep history of bloodshed, particularly towards innocent people. In fact, Zakhar could sense the restless spirits calling for justice from the undead. Mothers who had their children torn from their very arms. Entire families that drew their last breaths before each other’s very eyes, after being dissembled like toys. It was no wonder the people yearned for a god like Tamno, a supernatural entity that could do what they could not: vanquish their oppressors. Religion is a funny thing…dangerous, but funny.

Nonetheless, Zakhar had yet to have an interaction with a novice being guided under a master. What are times coming to, Zakhar mulled. To think that a novice can become a master without proper guidance…imbeciles! Without the teaching of a master, novice necromancers lacked focus and acted on impulse. If one happened to interrupt their service, they were prone to attack. And in Zhakar’s personal experience, they wouldn’t know when to quit until they drew their last breath.

“Hold there,” the Ironforge guard standing in front of the entrance called out. He extended the lit torch, the flames dancing inches from his face hidden behind the helmet. Zakhar caught sight of the sigil of the realm: the Liath Isles’ Black Rose. “Who might you be?”

“I am but a traveler seeking shelter from the storm.”

Almost as if on cue, a boom of thunder clashed in the distance. Zakhar, elated, peered up into the sky, seeing now that it was so dark he could not possibly make out the clouds because they were now entirely covering the stars themselves.

Nonetheless, Zakhar could feel the guard inspecting him�"from head to toe.

“A strange attire you’ve got,” the guard said.

“Thanks. I made it myself.”

Confused, the guard said, “You spin clothe?”

“Aye.”

“Your wife doesn’t spin your clothes for ye?”

Again, another round of thunder resonated overhead. “I’m not one to depend on a woman to do anything for me. I suppose you can say I’m a self-made man.” When Zakhar saw the guard’s shoulders stiffen, he added, “Although I envy ye because having a wife would bring comfort. Loneliness is a curse I’d never wish on any man. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It took all the strength Zakhar had not to laugh. Biting hard on his tongue to maintain his grim composure, Zakhar thought excitedly to high hells with a wife!

“You’ll find a woman someday. I’ll be front with you, stranger; the women here aren’t the prettiest you’ll find. But they are the toughest. For real men�"aye, such as me and you�"a strong woman is far better than a beautiful woman. If you’re looking for an Ironforge companion, you outta go to the Black Dog.”

Zakhar clicked his tongue. The wind had started picking up, suddenly turning into gusts. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

“Good luck, mate.”

Inside the Black Dog was a hearth with a roaring fire; around were wooden tables, with most full of other weary travelers or those living at Ironforge. With his dark hood drawn and his quiet footsteps, Zakhar’s entrance attracted no attention. He sat in the very back, away from the fire, and ordered a pint of honey mead from the woman bartender. She didn’t so much as glance his way, and he figured she had quite the experience with strange travelers. And he knew he looked strange, to the physical eye of the Easterners. They had probably never seen someone so pale.

Soon, the rain started falling outside, the wind howling against the stone walls of the pub. Zakhar sipped heartedly at his drink.

“A traveler, aye?”

A voice speaking to him behind made Zakhar peer over his shoulder. There sat a man, plain to the eye. Zakhar figured that because of his plainness, he must not be intimidating for a woman to approach. With long, wispy dark hair pulled back into a loose bun, the man had eyes that reminded Zakhar of an owl’s. Wide and full of unspoken wisdom.

“Aye,” Zkhar replied.

“I came to celebrate my brother’s birthday.” He held up his drink. “He got me drunk, he did. Terribly drunk. Then he left me.”

“Where I’m from, it’s tradition to get drunk on your own birthday, not the other way around.”

“Where are you from?”

“A far way away.”

The other man eyed Zakhar with his own curiosity. But rather than pressing the question, he set down his drink and held out his hand. “The name’s Adrian Clarke.”

Zakhar took his hand and shook it firmly. Adrian’s hand was warm, whereas Zakhar’s hand was stone cold.

When Zakhar didn’t share his name, Adrian said, “In this part of the world, it is considered rude not to introduce yourself.”

“A name is of no importance to me.”

“A name represents one’s own lineage.”

“Aye, and to some, that is the most important thing in the world.”

“But not to you?”

“Aye.”

Taking another swig of his drink, Adrian asked, “How come?”

Zakhar merely took a sip of his drink.

“What is this strange attire you’re wearing, anyhow?” Adrian asked. “Are you a warlock of some sort?”

“It is enchanted,” Zakhar said.

Adrian’s eyes widened a bit. “Enchanted with what?” he said this in a whisper, as if he already knew the answer.

“Magick.”

“Aye, so you are a warlock.”

“I practice magic.”

“You’re a warlock.”

“And let me guess…” Zakhar took a swig of his own drink. “You are an educator.”

“Aye, I am. Children can be little devils, let me tell you. But I wouldn’t trade my profession for anything else in the world. I’ll tell you what, though�"my life is about to change. A Royal Postman approached me this morning with a letter with the King’s royal stamp. Can you believe it? A royal letter from royalty! Aye, they want me to tutor the princess. I hardly knew the King had chosen a bride. I doubt anyone in the realm knew. At any rate, I’m supposed to leave in a few days. It’ll be one hell of a journey to the capital. But enough about me, what about you, stranger? What is your profession?”

“I don’t have one.”

“How does one not have a profession?”

“Well, I suppose you can say I am an avid researcher.”

“A researcher of what?”

“Magick.”

Adrian comically shook his head and pinched his cheeks, as if he thought he was dreaming. “This must be one hell of a dream…I’ve just come to celebrate Danny’s birthday, to find myself talking to a freaking warlock…” Adrian then lowered his voice into a hushed whisper, “You do know it is considered treason to practice magick here, right?”

“Aye, I am a warlock,” Zakhar said softly, fully aware of all the ears around them. “I’ll be front with you, Adrian. I have but one purpose in this world.”

“Oh, yeah?” Adrian eyed him warily, noting the dark glint in the strange man’s pale grey eyes which seemed to match the paleness of his hair, though that was mostly hidden beneath the hood he wore.

“My purpose in life is to kill Rhyker the Redeemer, surely and slowly.”

“Who is this…Rhyker the Redeemer?”

Zakhar felt himself scowl. Just the name made his normally cold and lifeless blood boil. “You’ll see soon enough. The entire world will. I’ll let him have his fun. But what he doesn’t know is that I’m still alive, and I’m far powerful than he’ll ever dream of being. He will die by my hand, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“That is an interesting dream,” Adrian murmured. “I’ll tell you what, stranger. I am dangerously drunk right now. I can scarcely think. In fact…I sent a message for my friend. She should be arriving any minute to collect me. For now, though,” his face turned a strange tint of green, “I will find the toilet. It was nice to meet you, stranger. I wish you luck on your unorthodox dream!”

 

 

Alítheia was a seraph with simple interests: men, food, and sleep. Long after descending as an angel, she came to find her home in a world that stood alone in its galaxy called Ospanus. Despite its tiny population, Ospanus was abundant in natural resources like water, minerals, and fossil fuels. She could see clearly that given a few centuries, the human population would spike. But for now, she focused on immersing herself in the abundantly attractive male population.

In the dark hours of one morning, she was fast asleep with two men on either side of her. Underneath the sheets of blankets they had tangled themselves in, she was stark naked, which was just the way she preferred to sleep, especially considering their late-night festivities. After all the pleasure she endured by their attention, she simply didn’t have the energy to redress.

As she slunk into a deep sleep, a sudden chill fell over her. Being the light sleeper that she was, she stirred in the bed and warily opened her eyes to find a dark figure standing over her. But even in the darkened light she could see his stark, blonde hair and the typical scowl tugging at his lips. Caspian’s human form was one she could find in a mob of people. Aggravation instantly filled her belly as he stood there expectantly.

“You have got some nerve to disturb my sleep. Come back when the sun has risen.” Alítheia let out a deep sigh. Though seraphs did not have to sleep to be healthy, she loved it. It was another luxury she immersed herself in.

“I need to speak with you now,” was his low baritone reply. If Alítheia didn’t dislike him as much as she did, she might have found his voice alone to be sexy. But that pinched look on his face ruined all he got going for him. His human form, dare she admitted, was rather attractive. If not for that unattractive scowl. Ugh.

“Too bad.” With that, she turned back against the pillow and smirked against its fabric. But suddenly, she felt something wet along her cheeks. Opening her eyes, she found she was face-deep in damp grass.

“What is so important that you interrupt my sleep?” Alítheia complained with a loud groan, coming to sit up. She stretched her arms above her head and glared at Caspian towering a few feet away.

“I need your gift,” Caspian said.

“For what?”

“To find someone.”

“Oh? Are you experiencing a love affair?” she instantly perked up at the idea, muffing a round of giggles. The very thought alone of Caspian pursuing companionship was hilarious!

“I am looking for Soraya,” Caspian replied stiffly, his eyes narrowing at her smirking expression.

Alítheia didn't like using energy to do hard work, except when it came to making love. Though her gift was unique in itself, it required a lot of energy from her.

But, Caspian’s concern for his elder sister struck Alítheia’s sympathy. Of all the seraphs she knew, Soraya was the kindest, and unlike whatever most seraphs who knew of Soraya’s unorthodox relationship with that human from a planet called Earth, Alítheia had no objection to their relationship. She herself could never figure out why it was so disgraceful. A lot of seraphs themselves, such as Alítheia and Caspian, used human form to find their own purpose. So why was it looked down upon to be together with a human? Although, she personally had not told any of her lovers what she truly was. To their eyes, she was a young and attractively, curvy woman, with confidence and wit. That and nothing more. They had no idea that she was once an angel, whose sole purpose was to maintain the balance in the universe, who had descended and became a seraph to find their own purpose. Amongst other angels, and supposedly even the Creator themself, this was not looked down upon because the most imperative thing to all of them was free will. It was an angel’s choice to fall, and it was also an angel’s choice to return.

Therefore, it was Alítheia’s choice to find her own purpose in Ospanus. And her ultimate choice was to be happy. She had received strange looks from other men and women in the village for being seen a lot with men. Knowing well that it would take Ospanus time to become developed over things such as a woman enjoying the attentions of other men, Alítheia was not frightened. It wasn’t like they could kill her, anyhow. She could easily smite the entire population herself, if she wanted to. Though that would use a lot of energy…

Pulling herself from the bed and keeping mind to slyly maneuver herself over her lovers as to not rouse their sleep, Alítheia got to her feet. Caspian quickly looked away, respecting her modesty. Rolling her eyes, Alítheia pulled a robe over her shoulders and strapped it loosely around her waist. With a flick of her dark, curly hair, she brushed past Caspian, a silent way of her instructing him to follow her.

“How do you like my home?” Alítheia asked Caspian over her shoulder, seeing how he in return glanced over the small space around them. They stepped into the living room where Alítheia poured herself a glass of wine.

“It is small.”

Alítheia smiled. “Indeed.”

As she took a sip of the wine, Caspian started, “I last saw Soraya -”

Alítheia raised her hand, silencing him. “My Sight into the universe will tell me everything I need to know.”

“Always so humble,” Caspian grumbled.

At that, she winked and took another sip of wine before holding the glass out to Caspian.

“Have you ever tasted wine?”

“I am not here to chat about culinary human creations. I am here to find my sister.”

Again, she rolled her eyes. He is so predictable, it's ridiculous. But the sooner I do this, the sooner I can go back to bed.

“Has anyone ever told you that you lack manners?” she shot at him over her shoulder, though she brushed the bangs away from her eyes, to begin clearing her mind to use her Sight.

“Manners are not necessary.”

“That depends who you are talking to. Now, hush. Let me concentrate…”

Caspian watched the female seraph in heavy silence, his lips pursed tightly. If she could not find Soraya, then…

Alítheia’s body went completely still before she slowly turned to face Caspian head on. Her eyes stared straight at him, seeing him but not seeing him. She was in full use of her gift. Caspian briefly wondered what she may be seeing. Sometimes she herself could not grasp it. But in a few moments, she came to, and the sympathetic frown tugging at her lips made Caspian’s fingers tighten around the glass of wine, threatening to shatter the fragile glass under the tension.

“Where is she?”

“I saw her in a cage, trapped.”

“Where?”

Alítheia reached languidly for the wine. The Sight, as always, drew out nearly all her energy. “I know not where, but I know who has her as captive.”

Caspian stared at her, not blinking. The name he conjured, the name he previously suspected, bubbled between his lips. But he dared not mention it. Alítheia took her sweet time finishing off the rest of the blood red wine before licking the redness off her lips and turning back to Caspian.

“It is a very grave situation, indeed. Not only is she a captive, Soraya has also lost her powers.”

“Tell me who has her.”

“You know who, Caspian.”

Thunder boomed ahead, followed by Caspian’s deafening voice that rivalled the ferocity of the thunder itself. “Tell me who and I shall smite him once and for all!”

Alítheia did not flinch at the raging darkness in his eyes but knew that the human responsible for the disappearance of Soraya was originally no match for a seraph. But with the powers he had now, that is unclear…

“It is he, Azaiah, who has your sister. She is powerless in his hold while he is all powerful. If you alone go to release her, he will obliterate you.” Before Caspian could protest - because as she was prideful of her gift, Caspian had pride for his strength - she added quickly, “On planet Sion, there is someone who can help you destroy him. I say this because he not only threatens your sister but the balance of that planet as well.”

Caspian’s features hardened, stone cold. Quietly, he murmured, “Who exactly am I looking for?”

______________

 

Shay Badcocke lived on the outskirts of Ironforge in a small hut. Anyone taller than her had to duck their head to step in through the front door. She had no wooden flooring either, just the dirt of the earth. And the walls were thin and trembled with each storm that struck Ironforge. But this was her home; her signature sat on the line of the deed. She purchased the house earlier in the year, when she came out with her latest novel to end her book series. The response she had gotten was staggering. But she refused to use a male penname, and she had singlehandedly proved that women could in fact write as good as men�"if not even better. Her home was known to be one of the oldest building structures in all of Ironforge. And possibly the smallest, but she didn’t mind.

This evening, Shay had felt inspired from the storm, so she lit a candle on her writing desk and sat down, hunched over the pieces of paper, her writing quill moving rapidly. She hatched a new idea for a book series�"one that might surpass her previous bestseller.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, writing, before she received a message from her best friend. The messages they sent to one another were not physical; rather, they were a form of telepathy, which they discovered when they were very young. She merely grew a sense of unease, and the Black Dog pub in town flashed in her mind. Sighing in reluctance as thunder boomed overhead, she reluctantly set down her writing quill and skimmed through her progress. She had written five pages.

Adrian Clarke, she thought to herself as she pulled on a cloak, you owe me big this time. She pulled the hood over her features before blowing out the candle, encasing her home in darkness. The rain was coming down hard, and the ground was soaking wet as she trudged through the storm. Luckily she knew Ironforge like it was the back of her hand because there was heavy darkness surrounding her, the town not being able to light any torches due to the onslaught of rain. Just as she began feeling her teeth chatter against one another, she saw the only building in Ironforge with its lights on. The Black Dog.

Grumbling to herself, Shay walked up the front steps, narrowly avoiding bumping shoulders with a man wearing a black cloak. She caught a glimpse of the palest grey eyes she had ever seen, and as they passed, she paused to glance over her shoulder. But his shaded silhouette was already beginning to fade in the streets.

Inside, there weren’t that many people seated at tables. Of course not, Shay thought bitterly. It’s the middle of the freaking night. Pulling her hood from her face, she quickly glanced over the warm setting in search of Adrian. But he was nowhere to be found.

“Look who it is, gracing us with her presence,” the bartender named Iggy greeted with a teasing smile. “What brings you out of your hole?” Iggy was a bear of a man. With stark, red hair, he always had a face full of grease, as well as his baggy old t-shirts and ratted old jeans. His hands were always coal black and rough from working outside all day, no matter what the weather was like. The Black Dog had run in his family for years now, passed down along from father to son, and now that it was Iggy’s turn to uphold the family business of running the Black Dog, which during the day was for blacksmithing, and at night, a pub for weary travelers and villagers alike. 

“Have you seen Adrian?”

Iggy nodded towards the toilet. “Aye, you might want to check in there. His face was a stark green when he ran in.”

“Thanks.”

There was a short line already forming at the toilets, since the Black Dog only had one toilet. Stepping in front of an older man who had a deep scowl, Shay knocked on the wooden door.

            “Adrian? It’s me�"Shay.”

            “What’s he doing in there?” the older man behind Shay grumbled.

            Shooting him a nasty look, Shay retorted, “What do you think he’s doing in a bathroom?”

            “I don’t know. You tell me!”

            Sighing again, Shay knocked on the door. Louder this time. “Adrian, come on. It’s time to go. You’ve got people waiting. It’s time to�"”

            The door swung open, and Shay’s eyes met the dark, glazed eyes of her best friend, “Go?”

As soon as the final word left her mouth, Adrian lurched forward with a sickly groan and emptied all the contents of his stomach onto her shoes.

“To high hells, Adrian! How much have you had to drink?” Shay snapped through gritted teeth, tearing her eyes off the chunks of food on her feet. Adrian’s face was pale white, his eyes glazed.

“I dunno…but aye, I’ll tell you what. I had the most interesting conversation a few minutes ago.”

Shay snorted a little as the front door to the pub opened, letting in a cold gust of wind. “I’ll bet any conversation you’ve had was interesting, in this state. Now c’mon, don’t make me do all the walking for the both of us.” She wrapped his limp arm around her shoulder and started dragging him across the wooden flooring. But when she looked up, she found herself staring into the most peculiar eyes she had ever seen. They were a dark violet.

Next to her, Adrian started coughing feebly. “You should’ve seen him, Shay. He was a warlock! I swear it! He wore this dark cloak that was enchanted with magic. He was the strangest stranger I had ever seen.”

The man stood in front of the door at the pub. He had a towering height that loomed even over Iggy’s, and Iggy’s attention was diverted, his back turned, wiping down the back counters. The stranger stood there, his gaze still locked on Shay’s. Strange, Shay mulled to herself. It’s almost like he’s waiting for me. Huh. This night couldn’t get any weirder.

Ahead, thunder boomed as Shay drug Adrian closer to the door. She halfheartedly listened to her best friend mumble about this strange stranger he spoke to earlier, but her attention was focused on the tall, blonde man blocking their means of escape. The look on his face was sour, almost irritated, his thin lips turned into a scowl. He wore a black trenchcoat, but with no hood. His hair doesn’t even look wet? Who the hell is this guy, and what’s he doing here if he’s not getting a table for a drink? Is he looking for someone?

Nonetheless, Shay continued moving towards the door. This man wasn’t her concern. Adrian was. He needed to get home, drink some water, and sleep. She had never seen him so intoxicated before. Damn his brother, Danny, for leaving him here like this!

“Excuse me, stranger,” Shay spoke to the man once they came face-to-face, though she didn’t look him in the eye. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to move. But then he stepped aside, and she reached for the doorknob.

“We need to talk,” he said, and her hand froze on the doorknob.

“I’m busy right now. Can’t you see that? You’ve got a pair of eyes.”

“The universe is in danger�"”

Shay closed the door sharply behind her and wheezed out a breathless laugh. She wasn’t in the mood for doomsday religious fanatics.

“Can you use your legs at all?” Shay said loudly over the sound of the pouring rain.

“Sure thing,” Adrian replied, wriggling his legs clumsily. Shay frowned. He always had long, lanky legs, and he never seemed to know how to quite use them. He was the clumsiest person she knew of�"even when he was sober.

It was then they descended out into the rain, getting drenched in seconds. Shay practically had to carry Adrian’s body atop her shoulders. At one point, she stopped to throw off her shoes�"they were already ruined, after all. From there on, she ventured barefoot. After what seemed like forever, they reached Shay’s home and stumbled through the front door. Shakily, she settled him on a chair and turned to get him some water�"

Only to meet those violet eyes again.

“What the hell?” she gasped. “How’d you…how are you in here?” She figured since he wasn’t dragging a body, he could’ve easily beat her here. But how did he get inside? She was certain she locked the door when she left.

And his hair still didn’t look wet from the rain. How was that possible?

“We need to talk.”

“Well, it appears we’re freaking talking! You better spit it out before I throw you out myself.”

“The universe is in danger.”

“You said that before.” Shay let out an exasperated sigh and leaned against the wall. “Look, I’m not interested in joining any religious cult. I’m not even religious myself. I don’t care what you do with you free time, or who you choose to worship, just don’t come shoving it in my face.”

“I have seized us both inside a time capsule,” was the stranger’s reply, and it was then that Shay suddenly noticed Adrian frozen in mid talk, and she could no longer hear the wind and rain howling outside.

“I do not understand,” Caspian said at Shay’s lack of response. “I am speaking your language, am I not? How is it that you do not comprehend what I have already told you?”

“I understand what you said. I just don’t…How can anyone stop time?” A cold sweat had broken over Shay, a strange sensation clutching onto her chest. Raw panic, something she had never truly felt before.

 “Humans do not have the ability to stop time, but seraphs do.”

A seraph? This had to be a dream. Shay had been brainstorming about seraphs for the past month. She had tons of vague sketches and descriptions in her journal as physical proof. Seraphs…fallen angels seeking to find their own purpose in life, who were once sworn to ensure balance in the universe. But they were supernatural beings, such as unicorns and mermaids! They belonged in fantasy worlds, not reality.

This makes absolutely no sense.

“And you’re a seraph?” Shay whispered.

“Yes.”

“Where do you come from?”

“We come from all parts of the universe. In the hierarchy of life, we are beings superior to humans. I suppose you can refer to us as divinities.”

Shay stomach churned. It’s like he’s speaking all my notes aloud.

“You’re not human?”

“I am a seraph.”

“But you look like a human. I mean, is this your true form?” Seraphs often descend into human form to wander across different planets in different galaxies to find their purpose. Their true form is vastly larger than humans, that’s for sure.

“I was originally an angel who has fallen to seek my own path and purpose in life. As of now, this is my human form.”

“…Would I lose my sight if I saw your true form?”

“No. Human eyes can look upon our true form.”

“So why aren’t you here in your true form?” Shay tried to maintain a calm face, even though she was inwardly bracing herself. She was asking him questions she knew the answer to�"questions he shouldn’t know the answers.

“Because I have entered the physical realm by descending into human form...do you always ask these many questions?” he countered.

“Can you blame me? I don’t know what’s going on here!”

Suddenly, the ground beneath them shattered. But there was no sound. Shards of earth dissipated into thousands of tiny pieces. For a moment, they looked like pieces of shattered glass. When Shay blinked, they were standing atop the entire planet with the vastness of the universe above them. It looked like her feet were pressing against thin air.

For a moment, nausea warped through her from how high they were, but it passed when she saw the stranger still standing across from her, his features calm and cold. With all the masses beneath her, she had never seen her planet’s colors so beautiful. All the different hues of blues and greens.

A blue planet…

The clouds look like wisps of gentle smoke covering parts of its surface, and she could see portions dark from lack of sunlight. From here, her planet looked fragile and magnificent, like it should belong behind a glass case for protection.

“I understand that this must be very uncanny to you,” the stranger said. “You know exactly what seraphs are. You have just begun thinking of a story with one in it.”

“How do you know about that? I haven’t breathed a word about it to anyone, not even to Adrian. Hell, I haven’t even started writing it!”

“Because I have been trying to speak with you. Due to circumstantial reasons, I have only been able to reach you through visions.”

“Visions? They’re called brainstorming. Not visions.”

“You have had the gift of a vivid imagination all your life. I used this ability of yours to try and communicate. You did not recognize it as a form of communication, however. I had foreseen that as a possibility, but the future never consists of one path.”

“Because the future is never absolute,” Shay murmured, remembering that that was an exact line she had thought of including in her book.

All her life, people had always thought she was strange because she always seemed so distant, and her journals were always filled with fictional characters that she had created from the turmoil of her raging imagination.

She eventually reached the conclusion that to be a writer, one had to have a minor case of The Unforeseen Sight�"not enough to be concerned but enough to be acknowledged. The Unforeseen Sight was an illness that those unfortunate enough who had it often saw people or beings who weren’t real. It wasn’t curable, and for those who had it, they eventually lost their mind.

But maybe she truly was insane. She was after all, seeing a supernatural being that she had written jumbled notes about for the past month or so.

Maybe she was finally losing the distinction between fantasy and reality.

Shay glanced back at the being standing before her. But he looks so real. And my planet looks real, too.

“Alright, say you are a seraph. Why do you want to speak with me?”

“Because your planet is in grave danger A dark being known as Azaiah wishes to connect all the realms of this world through bloodshed and violence.”

Shay stayed quiet for a few seconds, lost in thought. In the story she had envisioned, she witnessed the bloodshed and violence that this stranger spoke of.

“More than half of this planet’s population will be annihilated from Azaiah’s conquests,” the stranger went on, “if we do not stop him.”

They were suddenly standing in a frozen tundra. There was nothing but the blinding whiteness of snow all around them that stretched on for as long as Shay’s eyes could see. The sun settled right along the horizon, half of it captured by the ice and snow. Shielding her eyes, she focused back on the stranger in the trench coat, who again looked unaffected by the change of scenery.

“I’m having a hard time keeping up. I mean…did I do hit my head or something while running through the rain? I wonder…Am I unconscious? Did I die? Am I a ghost?”

“You are not dead. You are alive.”

“…if I am a ghost, then how I was I even talking? Unless…is this some kind of alternate universe? Is this what comes after death? Do we just live other lives in parallel universes? I’ve dreamed about that before, too, but…were those just dreams, or visions, too?”

“You are not a ghost.”

“…but I don’t remember having any unfinished business. I mean, I’m disappointed that I didn’t fulfill my lifelong dream of surpassing Skye Mckenzie. But I didn’t think I’d be upset enough to want to stay here after I die…I mean, what can I even do about it now? I’m dead!”

Something shattered across the sky. They were now standing in a pasture. Shay smelled wet mud, wet dirt, and the earthy smell of rain. Around them, rain was pouring, but they weren’t getting wet at all. Overhead, another round of thunder boomed, followed by a streak of lightning casting light over the seraph’s face, though it quickly faded.

“You are not dead,” the seraph said, and the tone of his voice matched the booming thunder�"deafening, intimidating, and Shay realized in cold dread that if by a millionth of a chance this was real, she was standing before a seraph, which was a being not to be reckoned with. “If we do not stop Azaiah, everyone you know will be obliterated.”

Shay’s legs started to tremble from the dark look in his eyes. Obliterated, huh? That’s a strong word. “Well, I’m just, you know, a human. How am I supposed to be of help?”

“You are not just a human.” He paused, and the rain around them started growing fainter, the booms of thunder dissipating. “You are so much more, Shay Badcocke.”

Suddenly, they were standing back in Shay’s home.

“What do you mean I’m not human? If I’m not human, what am I? And do you even have a name I can call you by?”

“My name is Caspian. And Shay, you are the god of this planet.”