Volume 1, Chapter 4: New World, Same Problems (Patreon)

My body was suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, standing upright. When I opened my eyes—which, as it turned out, had been closed until that very moment—I found a lighter and the antiseptic spray still clutched in my outstretched hands, the latter still blasting a ball of fire in front of me.

Realizing that neither the dog nor the man who had let it off the leash was there anymore, I lifted my finger from the spray’s trigger, slowly lowered both hands, and quickly surveyed my surroundings the old-fashioned way: by looking around.

I was definitely in a forest, except that instead of any trees I recognized, I was surrounded by ferns growing from ringed, palm-like trunks. Their fronds were so enormous that each one was easily twice my height, and they were so thick and slanted upward at such angles that the ground was almost completely bare of any undergrowth, as the canopy prevented almost any light from coming through.

As I moved the foot clad in nothing but a sock across the ground, I quickly realized I was standing on uneven sand-and-stone terrain.

“Hey!” A shrill voice rang out directly in front of me, startling me so badly that I dropped both the lighter—which landed softly in the sand, kicking up a small puff of dust—and the spray can, which hit the ground with a louder clatter and raised a slightly larger cloud.

A moment later, like a meteor, my own ass slammed into the sand, hiding both me and my embarrassment in a billowing cloud of dust.

“Are you all right?” said the ball of fire I had just blasted from my makeshift flamethrower. It drifted toward my face until it hovered about two feet away, hanging in midair with complete disregard for both convention and gravity.

With a trace of undisguised terror, I quickly slipped my arm out of the strap of the bag hanging over my shoulder and hurriedly scuttled backward, one hand after the other, one foot scraping through the sand after the other, like some kind of crab. I kept going until my back struck what could only have been the trunk of one of those strange trees.

I glanced up quickly to confirm my hopeful assumption, and the moment I saw fern fronds above me, I directed my gaze back toward what I now realized had been the source of my light ever since my eyes opened in here, and not on the Gray’s ship.

The ball of fire was roughly the size of my head, and, like my head, it had a face.

Its features were formed from flame that constantly shifted and danced, yet somehow remained visually consistent enough for me to make out full lips, a delicate nose, eyes, and, crowning the sphere, curling tongues of fire that very earnestly pretended to be long, wavy hair.

The image this being presented was unmistakably feminine, with a slender shape, slightly larger eyes, dimples set into fiery cheeks, and both smiling eyes—which were nothing but solid black voids—and smiling lips. Her eyes were empty of everything but two sparks serving as pupils. Above them two flames quite clearly served as eyebrows.

Altogether, despite her pleasant appearance, she gave off the impression of something torn straight from a Japanese horror movie, the kind where a little girl can be more terrifying than the worst of monsters.

A fiery glow radiated from her, lighting the small clearing where we both found ourselves and casting the shadows of the tree across the surrounding plants and the ground behind them.

[DEAR CHOSEN!] The Concepts thundered through my soul, and the world froze in place for a moment.

[EACH OF YOU HAS BEEN GRANTED A DAIMON, AND YOUR MISSIONS FOR THIS GAUNTLET HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED. IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO FALL BEHIND, WE ENCOURAGE YOU TO PURSUE THE COMPLETION OF THESE EXTRAORDINARY TASKS AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. TRUST US—YOU DO NOT WANT SOMEONE TO BEAT YOU TO IT OR PREVENT YOU FROM SUCCEEDING! WE WISH YOU A PLEASANT PURSUIT OF VICTORY!] Whoever was delivering the message finally stopped, and my personal djinn, vibrating in the air far more than I would have liked, drifted closer to me. With every inch it advanced, the temperature rose, waves of heat striking the skin of my face.

“Move away!” I shouted when there was no longer any way to turn my face farther from the source that was singeing it. Then I remembered that I now carried something inside me that gave me power over reality, and instinctively I willed Cinderhide to activate. I felt my Psyche working, tensing inside my soul with a force that surprised me so much it nearly robbed me of spiritual breath, if such a thing could be said.

I also felt something else inside my spiritual second self, the one separate from physicality, begin to boil, and the light that was not really light at all—the Soma—moved out of my soul into physical space, then flared across the skin of my cheeks. I felt it begin changing into something I could only experience as a series of successive cracks, bones bulging outward in place of skin in the form of some kind of calloused growth. But the sensation of heat diminished significantly.

“I’m sorry!” The fire spirit retreated in a strange corkscrewing motion, settling into a new position two feet farther away from me. “Was I the one who hurt you? I didn’t mean to! Really! I’m so sorry!” she cried in a girl’s voice.

I turned back toward her, touching my face with both hands and gently running my fingertips over what felt like a cold, hardened but relatively flat crust of lava. Moving my hand from place to place, I quickly determined that the transformation covered not only my cheek, but also my nose, lips, left eyebrow, the area around my eye, and part of the left side of my forehead.

I could also feel that maintaining the transformation required me to keep my Psyche constantly tensed so that the Authority I produced could sustain it. Since the creature before me had withdrawn without protest when I asked her to, I released the transformation through sheer force of will, ending Cinderhide.

I pressed my left hand against the altered portion of my face and felt the growth crack beneath my touch, crumbling into cold dust. It rose between my fingers, glowing with the red, white, and orange colors of my Soma before disappearing completely, like fireflies escaping into the night.

That same strange light flashed beneath my palm for less than the span of a single breath, then vanished just as quickly. The skin beneath it appeared unharmed, as did my lips, which I rubbed and even tugged gently between my fingers to test their flexibility.

My concerns eased, I looked at the little flame hovering before me. Worry was now written across her face. Maintaining eye contact, I braced myself with one hand against the tree and quickly rose to my feet. In response, she floated higher until her face was level with mine.

“I really didn’t mean to hurt you. My name is Brigid! I chose it myself. Is it pretty?” She drifted a little closer, her expression carrying the eager curiosity of a child who had just accidentally hurt someone.

“Michael Fortier,” I lied, bowing deeply and sweeping one arm outward in a theatrical gesture. “I’m fine. You merely startled me. I don’t know many beings of your kind. Apology—of course—accepted.” After straightening, I quickly surveyed the immediate area once more.

My bag and all the tools inside it lay almost directly beneath the creature, so if a fight broke out, there was little chance I could reach it unless I distracted her and drew her away—which was an option. I still had the ties in my pocket. Apparently, I could also protect part of my body, my hands, for example, and try to crush her between them, but my Psyche had been badly strained by the first transformation. I doubted I could use it again without hurting myself until it recovered.

At least, that was what my Anima suggested. Unfortunately, I had no idea how long the recovery would take.

I could not see any source of water, but fire could also be smothered with sand, so perhaps that would be my best solution.

Sounds of wildlife drifted from somewhere among the distant trees, though I had trouble identifying them. Even on Earth, I had never spent much time in forests, especially at night. Something appeared to be howling—perhaps a wolf or some kind of fox. I could also hear birds hooting and faint rustling noises that I instinctively associated with insects.

The air smelled fresh, but there was also a trace of petrichor, suggesting rain might be on its way and that all my careful deliberations would prove unnecessary.

“How wonderful!” The fireball in front of me rose slightly, flared with brighter flames, then lowered herself back to her usual level of illumination. “Molbob told me about you! He also said that, well… you would probably make up a different name for yourself. We can complete the mission together!”

“Molbob?” Her words knocked me out of the rhythm of preparing for a possible fight, escape, or deception. “Who the hell is Molbob? And why would he say I’d introduce myself under another name?”

“Nice. Smaller than you, but very similar. He also has those… um… what are they called… arms! And legs! Only his eyes are bigger and black… Black, yes. That is the very dark color, right? Language is still… well… a little difficult for me. Especially when I’m nervous!” She spun around, turning her face away from me. For a moment, I considered making a run for it, but decided to remain where I was.

“Gray, with a large head?” I answered, right as she turned back toward me.

“Yes! That one! You met him too? He said you are naturally distrustful and that your name is Alexander, but he described exactly what you looked like, so… well… I think you’re him.” As she spoke with excitement, sparks flew from her mouth like droplets of saliva.

“Honestly, it never occurred to me to ask his name.”

“That’s rude! You should always… well… introduce yourself! It’s polite.”

“Quite the opposite, Brigid. Guard your name and identity as carefully as you would your own eyes. The fewer people who know what you’re really called, who you are, and what you are capable of, the better.”

“So you admit your name is Alexander?” she asked, tilting herself slightly to one side and drifting closer. “He said you chose the Path of Fire! I asked him for details! Sorry… but I was so… well… curious! About who I would be working with, I mean!”

“If you’re the person he mentioned, then either we spoke to different Grays or he somehow worked on you at the exact same time he was working on me… which I’m not ruling out, considering I’m currently talking to a ball of fire.”

“He mentioned me!?” Her eyes widened to at least twice their previous size, while the flames serving as eyebrows erupted with heat and released a considerable amount of smoke. “How wonderful! What did he say? What did you ask him?”

“I didn’t get the chance to ask,” I lied. “What is your mission?”

“I have to reach the… um… city and determine who is committing murders there! I’ll be a… what is it called… I know! A detective! You too, right?”

“Yes,” I risked. If we really could help each other, it was better to enter an alliance and keep a potential traitor close enough to observe than to be blindsided later. “I have the same objective.” I swallowed and took several steps toward her, pointing at my bag. “Can I take that?”

“Of course!” She flew aside, leaving behind a trail of smoke that quickly dispersed, and maintained a distance that was safe for me.

“And I’m sorry again about earlier. Honestly… well… this is a little embarrassing to admit, but I’ve only been alive for a few dozen minutes. Molbob said I’m a creative anomaly caused by… um… something related to your magic… and some kind of processes. I didn’t really understand what he meant. But here I am!” I nodded to show that I was listening, though not in the slightest that I understood her. Whatever meaning she chose to take from that gesture was her concern. “But I chose the Path at the very top of my list! Did you do that too? Is that why you created me? Because you love fire so much?”

“Let’s say that,” I answered as I reached for the bag and dragged it closer across the sand. I opened the zipper and began rummaging through its contents. “What is your Path?”

“Healer!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? A healing ball of fire? That was the best match at the top of your list?”

“Is that bad?” she asked, her worried voice rising an octave. Her entire form sank about a foot lower, and she cast her gaze toward the ground.

“I have absolutely no idea. I thought I’d be working with a human as another representative of Earth—not a ball of fire. Not that I ever expected my day to take a turn like this, even in my worst or wildest dreams,” I added, taking just a glance upward. “This entire situation is madness and the obvious repayment for my recent streak of good fortune.”

I sighed and checked the contents of the bag. Everything I had thrown inside was still there, along with, as it turned out, a wallet containing a few dollars and cards that I doubted would be of any use here, a deck of playing cards, several keys, and a spare shirt a good two sizes too large for me.

I looked around for the spray can I had dropped and started toward it.

“I’m in no position to judge whether the Path you chose was the right one,” I said, finding her with my gaze and maintaining eye contact. “I don’t even know whether I made the right choice myself, but that decision is behind us now. We have to do everything we can to get out of this situation.” I bent down to pick up the can. I shook it and pressed, but it turned out to be completely empty. Nothing came out, so I tossed it aside.

“Get out? Not complete our mission?”

“The mission is only the first step. Do you really think it’ll end with one? The alien made it clear that this will continue for as long as they can squeeze something out of us. We do what we must, survive as much of it as we can, and look for a more permanent solution,” I said, more to motivate myself than her as I searched the sand for the lighter, sifting it through my fingers. “What abilities did you receive with your Path? Can you tell me?”

“Molbob said I shouldn’t… um, worry about them too much, you know?” She drifted closer, near enough that her warmth gently heated my skin. This time, I did not retreat, since the air farther away from her was quite cold, as evidenced by the clouds of vapor leaving my mouth whenever I spoke.

“This is shaping up wonderfully,” I muttered under my breath as I picked up the lighter and brushed the sand from it.

“He said I’d find a way to use them… perhaps with your help!”

“If that doesn’t work out, you can always go into show business. You certainly know how to build suspense. Now lay it on me, Brigid. What abilities did you get?” I asked, pressing the lighter’s button and producing a small flame in front of me. Everything seemed to be working properly in that regard, at the very least.

“Well… um… one lets me determine what’s wrong with someone…” The flames forming her brows folded inward. Thin ribbons of dark smoke leaked from their tips while she thought. Then her entire body flashed brighter. “I know!” she cried. “The second lets me close wounds with the simple touch of a hand. And the third lets me remove poison from someone’s body, also by controlling Soma. Isn’t that wonderful?”

I stared at the ball of fire in front of me in disbelief, both arms hanging limply at my sides now, and wondered whether everything here would be like this. A joke woven into reality, built atop another jest, all to create pure misery for those unfortunate enough to find themselves here.

“Okay, Brigid. That all sounds fantastic. Truly. Just tell me, my dear, that you can shape hands for yourself out of your fire—and that those hands won’t burn the person you’re trying to heal.”

“I… um… can’t. I’m only what I am. I don’t really know how to direct Soma yet either. Molbob said it’s because, until now, I had never had… you know… a body, and my soul has to learn how to interpret it. Because Soma is the equivalent of a physical body, and we control our magic through it.”

“So you can’t use two of your abilities because you don’t know how to control that strange light, and you can’t use the third because you don’t have hands. Hands which, even if you did have them, would probably cause more harm than healing. Not to sound pessimistic—and believe me, my dear, I truly am not—but you’re in a bit of a fucked-up position.”

“I am?” Her flames suddenly drew inward until she was almost half her previous size. The orange faded toward a weak, translucent yellow, and for a moment I had the absurd impression that she was trying not to go out.

“Perhaps not entirely. By virtue of what you are, you can at least fly up to someone and set them on fire. You also make a decent source of heat and light.”

“But I don’t want to set anyone on fire or hurt them! I want to heal people! I’m not going to fight anyone!”

I sighed and folded my arms across my chest.

“Then you’re my flashlight and heater until we figure out how to get something more useful out of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Like I said, we don’t have a choice in the matter. For now, we play by the rules of the game we’ve found ourselves in, until we learn how and where we can cheat them to our advantage.”