An Age of Mysterious Memories

Huh, my senses are telling me to expect something soon, something cliché, but they aren’t zeroing in specifically on what. Lil, Te, and I dust ourselves off and continue our stealthy infiltration mission after taking only a few seconds to eat. I’m worried more by the moment that someone’s going to realize we’re not behind those giant blocks of titanwood back up on the first floor. Once they do, how long will it be before they decide to search deeper in the fortress? Even if normally they wouldn’t be allowed down to these floors, a horde of thousands strong bearing down on us, spreading out and searching the fortress is bound to figure out we might be down here.

I wonder if I should set some more titanwood blocks up along the path we’d come up. Was my prophetic warning telling me to do that? Or maybe to not do that. Maybe if Teuila gets cocky because we don’t have the horde breathing down our throat, she acts rash and makes a move she normally wouldn’t? Friggin’ hell, stupid prophecies! Sighing, I roll my eyes and grumble quietly to myself, trying not to laugh in a hysterically nervous manner. Glancing over at Teuila, she seems undisturbed by the nature of my vision, which, yeah, being Teuila, makes sense. Lil seems slightly more unnerved by the possibility that his “It’s-A-Secret” could derez shortly after facing Al’pa’ca. You and me both Lil buddy, you and me both.

When Teuila asks, “Guys, don’t you think this is going a little too well?” My heart sinks as I facepalm. There it is. The cliché that was coming.

While Lil and Te see nothing wrong with the innocent question, and should honestly be questioning the ease with which our plan has been succeeding, I groan. The moment Teuila voiced her doubts, musing on our smooth progress, a chill ran down my spine, and my pulse quickened. Yup, there it is alright, the red flag, the harbinger, the trope, the metaphorical other shoe that drops. Like a cold splash of water, I feel a knot tighten in my stomach as a cascade of alarms runs through my cranium, escalating the sonorous klaxon of my genre senses to a deafening crescendo.

Dragging my palm down my face, I tease Teuila as I quip, “Te, do you have absolutely no sense of foreboding whatsoever?”

My best pal, my buddy, Lil, starts, “Hey pal, no worries, we’ve got everything—,”

I interrupt him, my eyes wide in terror as I clasp the sides of my face, pleading, “Are you kidding? Please tell me you were not about to finish that sentence the way I think you were.”

When Lil casts aside his gaze, and his expression droops, his face looks dejected, and I feel awful for chastising him. Even Teuila seems a bit put off by my outburst, so I apologize, “Sorry guys, genre senses, those phrases get people killed. Never comment on how easy a job is before it’s done, and never claim you have everything under control until it’s so finished that it couldn’t possibly ever become an issue again.”

When a hissing sound reaches my ears, I’m worried we’ve got either a serpent to deal with, or Lil is being gassy, neither of which would be pleasant. Then it hits me, firstly, Lil is Can’Z’aasian, he can’t get gassy in that way. That’s because he doesn’t have a butt, none of us do. The hissing is a caustic, likely toxic, definitely explosive, gas, and it’s leaking from a ruptured pipe somewhere within the demolished walls of the mecha-drake auto-building room. That explosive gas is leaking into a fortress full of sparks, lightning, electricity, and the occasional open flame from somebody like Lil. Te and Lil both know better than to joke around and goof off now that they’ve noticed the same sound.

Motioning for Lil and Te to hurry, I plot our path avoiding as many magical auras and traps as I can. If we’re lucky, we might be able to put enough distance between us and the explosion before it occurs that we can still proceed as planned. If we’re really lucky, the gas will go inert as it mixes with oxygen, and not explode at all. After Lil’s and Teuila’s statements though, I’m not feeling all that lucky. Speaking of, now I’m thinking about my son. Checking my goggles, the security center mirror with Lucky’s view on it seems to be doing well. He’s watching Pidge and Trixxie. Hm, thinking of those two now, I see someone’s got goggles aimed towards Shiz and Zelshiz as they work together in the forgeworks for some reason, on some project or another.

Suddenly a pang of guilt hits me. I’m stuck gripping my chest as I think about the fact that I could be checking in on nearly everyone, nearly every minute of every day, and I haven’t been. Then Kinzul and Luni’s conversation echoes in my mind. There is always danger, and never an end to it, but there is an end to me. I only have so many frayed mental threads to assign to monitoring and checking in on allies or assimilating information, or calculating odds in battle, or any number of things my mind is constantly doing. Still, I glance at the scrying output from the security center to my goggles, and I notice Lucky’s view with Trixxie and Pidge hovering near Alanea in the infirmary as she looks after everyone. She’s caring for Kagired, and several of Zelshiz’s injured Spellknights. The vision of Alanea, safe and aiding our allies warms my heart.

Through the scrying sensors, I notice several unworn goggles focusing on Nala and Littlebit. That makes sense, as I’d left them for Nala to work on setting their size-changing enchantments in place. Even though Nala appears intensely focused on her tinkering, she also looks the most amiable I’ve ever seen her. Her resting angry face that always contained hints of longing, loss, and sorrow, could almost be confused for a happy expression at the moment, almost. Littlebit looks downright overjoyed, and seems to be rambling a mile a minute, though I can’t hear what she’s saying.

Only somewhat surprisingly, I spy Iylynila standing near the pair of tinkerers, working with the spellsheets, the spellwrought paper, attempting to work literal magic with limited resources. Sighing, I nod slowly to myself, attempting to pull back from my reverie and focus on the present, in my current location.

My present, in the current location though? I might as well be sitting in a gray cubicle. The gray monotony is broken only by the occasional flicker of lightning, captured and channeled through crystalline conduits embedded in the stone, and even those are sparsely placed, likely buried within the tunnel walls for the most part. Plus, if it weren’t for our additional senses, these endlessly monotonous corridors would be a labyrinth of sameness. But it's not just the layout that's oppressive, it's the conformity.

I mean, Can’Z’aas was one thing, and Solace is kind of bad about being samey samey, but here it’s just awful. There’s this unrelenting uniformity of gray stone, lifeless in the way it seems to absorb sound and hope. I’m really not one to speak on interior design, especially since my own hoard room, my vault is just a gray box with some glow lichen in the corners, and a mass of unsorted random trinkets and wealth and crap. But even I find myself longing for a splash of color, a patch of glow-lichen, anything to break up the monotony. But Al'pa'ca's lair is probably like his own heart, devoid of such simple joys as even a smattering color. Yeesh.

As we reach an intersection, the path ahead forks, leading deeper into our archmage foe’s domain. To the right, a wider passage, the air within it vibrating with the hum of machinery and the scent of ozone. To the left, a narrow tunnel, its entrance framed by jagged stone teeth. The left path, this narrow passage that seems to leer with a stony grin, its entrance is an unsettling echo of a memory I'd rather leave buried. I hesitate, a chill tracing the ridge of my spine—not from the cool subterranean air, but from the ghost of Day One that seems to walk back and forth over my grave repeatedly.

The sight of the jagged stone teeth framing the tunnel's maw sets dagger-like claws sinking into me and gripping my heart with a building terror, a primal alarm that sets my heart to racing. Frick. Crap. I’d better let the panic attack happen here, where we’re relatively safe, or at least not mid-combat, rather than trying to bottle it up.

I can feel the familiar onset of dread, the edges of my vision narrowing, tunneling. I’m grasping at the straws of my sanity as I’m confronted by the full horror of the memory. The tinnitus that usually hums quietly in the background now roars to the forefront, a deafening cacophony drowning out nearly all else. This left path, it just had to be a grimacing gape in the earth's flesh, didn’t it? It’s like it’s already gnawing, pulling at my composure’s frayed edges. Hah, Reggie Shellcracker, composed? As if. I try to use self-deprecating humor, I try to fight the terror, the panic rising within me. It doesn’t end it though. At most I bought myself a few split seconds while it continued to build.

Of course My Wings and My Heart instantly react, rushing to find the appropriate distance from me, whether I need nearness, or space. They can both tell that nearness will do me better than the space at the moment. Despite their speedy reactions, despite Teuila having almost literal super speed, it’s like they’re moving in slow motion as Lil and Te turn towards me. My terror has me experiencing every instant drawn out into an eternity, contemplating the horror that drags me under, beneath my own psyche.

The sight of the jagged stone teeth, a grotesque mockery of a fanged maw, sends shivers down my spine. Day One, it had to remind me of Day One. I can feel the onset of the nightmare, the world narrowing to a single point of terror as my vision tunnels to the width of a pinprick. My heart’s drumming, hammering in panic, each thud echoing in my ears, louder than the hiss of escaping gas that I’d noted a few hallways back. The tinnitus crescendos as I clutch at my chest, gasping, my jaw locking painfully back and to the side, my face etched with the terror taking over my brain. My breath is hitching, stuttering, refusing to obey me, so I can’t even try to focus on deep breathing.

Great, now the jagged bolts of lightning in the conduits twist and writhe like grinding jaws. The tunnel is no longer just a tunnel—it's a gauntlet of gaping maws, each one ready to swallow me whole, to chew and spit me out like my worst, feverish nightmares. Everything that could, couldn’t, should, shouldn’t, would, or wouldn’t, be able to be a gaping maw suddenly is. The hallucinations grip me, a vivid terror augmenting my reality.

I'm vaguely aware of Te speaking soothing, comforting sounds, words probably, and Lil's voice, distant and distorted, as if through water. My companions are close, but they feel miles away. I'm slipping, falling back into the abyss, the cavernous maws that opened beneath me on Day One. Then, suddenly, the world explodes.

The hissing gas from the mecha-drake room must have found a spark, and the resulting blast rocks the very foundation of the keep. The shockwave slams into me, a physical force that shatters the illusionary teeth encroaching upon my sanity, as well as the physical stalactites and rough edges of the tunnel ahead. The roar of the explosion drowns out my pounding heartbeat, and screaming tinnitus, grounding me back into brutal reality. I was saved from deeper trauma by being rocked out of my panicked stupor.

I'm on the ground, the cold stone against my cheek a stark contrast to the heat of the blast. My ears are still ringing with the aftermath, certainly a familiar sound by this point in my life. But it's a different tone, temporary, short-lived. I draw in a ragged breath, the air tasting of dust and sickeningly diffused chemicals spread by the blast.

Te is here, her hand on my shoulder, grounding me, my rock at times like these, despite Luni being My-Anchor specifically, and Teuila being My-Wings. The concern, the love, in those eyes— twin emeralds, deep and comforting as the verdant sanctuary of a glade hidden by spring’s first leaves, is a lifeline. I clutch at it, pulling myself back from the brink with her help. Her and Lil both. My Heart, my best buddy Lil has his wings about me, about Te and I, like a shield, an aegis, despite my near thermal immunity. The gesture itself is love, kindness, self-sacrifice, it’s all the best parts of Lil.

Te and Lil are huddled over me, forming a protective circle, waiting for my recovery, despite the danger and urgency of our situation that now, more than ever, requires us to be hasty. The thousands of foes above us, Al’pa’ca’s hordes will have heard or felt the blast. And, unless he’s regularly rocking his fortress with explosions, I’m guessing they’ll bet we’re the cause, and be after us in short order.

The explosion has cleared more than just the hallucinations, funnily enough. I have to roll my eyes at how so simple a thing as clearing some stalactites can help against my panic triggers. The left tunnel, once a mouth of madness, is now just a passage. With my heart still pounding, but now in my chest where it belongs, I push myself to my feet. Huh. The rocks being rocked by that rocking really rocked. Hehe. I mean, the stalactites being knocked down by the explosion is awesome, obviously. You can be such a dink sometimes Reggie. I know, I know.

My breath catches, a hitch that I consciously smooth into a slow, deliberate rhythm. In, and out, breathe Air, breathe. I anchor myself to the moment, to the solidity of the ground beneath my feet, to the presence of my SAP, My-Wings, and My-Heart at my side. Lil's concerned gaze meets mine, a silent question that I answer with a subtle shake of my head. Not now. Not here. We can’t afford another break now, even though our last one only lasted the few seconds it takes Can’Z’aasians to eat food. I focus on the details of the here and now—the coolness of the air, with its new chemical tang, the distant hum of machinery, the faint scent of ozone, a sign of lightning unrestrained.

I pause, taking a moment to center myself. The stone beneath my feet is cold, unyielding. The air is thick with the tang of metal and the sharp, clean smell of lightning, now dirtied by the scent of whatever chemical got spread by the explosion. It had been a sterile scent, now it’s almost sickeningly sweet, probably something my allies should avoid inhaling. My neckchain of the ever-breathing keeps it from being problematic for me, but I don’t want their lungs to rot, or anything else like that.

Sighing and running my hand through my hair, I accidentally end up stroking my left horn, having forgotten it existed. Those are still taking some getting used-to. After puffing out a lungful of air, I groan and suggest, “Come on guys, we’ve got a dragon to face, and we’re going to have his hordes breathing down our necks any minute now.”

Of course my best buddy’s reply is supportive yet succinct, “Sure thing pal.”

My-Wings’ reply is tinged with surprising solemnity, “My Airhead, the very Air that I breathe, I wish we could get rid of those for you, forever. We were all sure they’d get you killed one day, and they did. I—. Huff, anyway, you’re right, let’s go kick some evil dragon archmage Alpacker ass.”

Flashing Teuila a sad smile, knowing how she struggles with her literal ocean of emotions in her mindscape, I nod as I respond, “I know Te, I know. Yeah, let’s go win this thing.”

With each step into the tunnel, I feel the walls pressing closer, the shadows stretching to meet us. I keep my gaze fixed ahead, avoiding the peripheral visions that threaten to coalesce into the nightmarish jaws of my dreams. I continue passing breaths through puffed cheeks and pursed lips, puffing one phooph after another. The ground beneath us is uneven, rough-hewn, but still relatively easy to traverse.

The tunnel begins to descend, the air growing denser, heavier. I can almost literally feel the weight of the mountain above us with my telekinetic senses. As we move deeper, the passage opens up, granting us a brief respite from the claustrophobic grip of the tunnel. Here, the stone is less menacing, worn smooth by time and the passage of countless feet, an unsettling hint that Al’pa’ca’s forces may have a path down ahead of us, which could destroy our chances at infiltration. The flicker of lightning from the crystalline conduits casts a soothing rhythm of light and shadow, a counterpoint to the earlier pounding of my heart, a reminder of my Latent, Nothing. The Void, the darkness, those soothing moments in the dead of night, when all is calm, embraced by those you love.

What was it Laomati once told me? Despite whatever fire and fury may come, I’m the soothing, cooling shadow my family will rally under? Something like that. That was oddly a lot more prophetic than I’d realized for quite a long time. Hell, even just the Night of All Burn, the lava was plenty of fire and fury, burning everything we loved. And it was going to stay that way, if I hadn’t freed Vesuviform, and turned into my fourth evolutionary stage as a giant kaiju, and absorbed all that mana from all those human mages attacking me, to cast my Black Ice Limit Break finisher. Huh. Even that singular event was pretty much exactly what she’d said as I cooled and darkened dozens, maybe hundreds of square miles of lava. Yet it continues to ring true, more and more as I embrace my Latent, Nothing.

Sighing, I shake my head and blink back tears. I’ve been thinking more and more about the family we left behind when we’d died on Can’Z’aas. It wasn’t all that long ago when looking down over the Worldstorm that I’d thought about Laomati crying. I can still picture the constellations of tears on her lashes. That was before we’d ever even suffered when the lava burned everything we loved, let alone when the gods themselves threatened to burn even the ashes. I could really use one of Luni’s songs right now, here in the dark. She somehow always knows the right thing to sing, the right thing to say, the right thing to play. No matter what I did in dark moments like these. Everything collided, one moment to the next, one life to the next even. Still, even just thinking about Luni, My-Anchor, helps.

I take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs, feeling the steadiness return to my pulse. The tinnitus recedes, a change I’m quite grateful for. Between breathing deeply, mental coping mechanisms, and my SAP, my Shellcracker Adventuring Party teammates, the inner circle, I’m able to work towards calming down from the panic attack. I’m here, I’m with Lil and Te. I’m in the now, and I am Reggie Shellcracker, Schism, the Void Dragon Honoris Causa.