The Book of Whills: An Unexpected Space Wizard Tale

Author's Note:

This revision may lead to the second and/or third chapter to not be of same quality – but I'll fix'em in time: though I will spruce both of them up a bit – especially on the second chapter. And I also know the Huttese, and ur-Kittât language is a rough translation, but I'm not a language scholar, so give me a better one (Oh, and I also need a Hebrew and Aramaic translator).

And now the MC knows a little about who he was in the beginning. Hurray! At least some form of backstory! I'm learnding!

I meant to release this on the 4th, the 19th, then the 24th, but I got caught up in changing and editing the chapter. SO MAY THE WHATEVER DAY I RELEASE THIS BE WITH YE!

P.S. There are – like I said, still going to be breaks, typos, and errors. And I had to copy this from my notes in sections, so if you notice something wrong – alert me. If I don't find it first that is. EDIT TO THIS POST SCRIPT: It seems Webnovel took my En/Em Dashes and turned them into HYPHENS! I don't know what kind of circus you guys are running, BUT YOU'RE ABOUT TO MAKE ME THROW PEANUTS AT THE RINGMASTER!

SIT ON HIM! SIT ON XIAONAN BOBA! SIT!

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INTRODUCTION:

PROVERBS 30 | The sayings of Agur son of Jakeh-an inspired utterance.

This man's utterance to Ithiel (452):

"I am weary, God,

but I can prevail.

2 Surely I am only a brute, not a man;

I do not have human understanding.

3 I have not learned wisdom,

nor have I attained to the knowledge of the Holy One.

4 Who has gone up to heaven and come down?

Whose hands have gathered up the wind?

Who has wrapped up the waters in a cloak?

Who has established all the ends of the earth?

What is his name, and what is the name of his son?

Surely you know!

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Energies roaring, the air swirling; a vortex.

It is a furious riptide charging me, yet wiping away who I am.

My memories are blurred, washed away, but my being – my flesh is restored: both happening with a very violent, savage vigor.

It really is a confounding feeling. I have a mind: consciousness – I'm conscious of what I lack. And I have eyes: but I cannot see – and I'm conscious I lack what I cannot see. And mindful of what I know I lack, that is – what is necessary for touch – sensation... it then becomes something much more than the physical sensory form. To explain it shortly – it becomes hot, then cold; I become sorrowful, and then content; I'm drenched, then I dry; I feel comfort, then the sting, and bluntness of pain. It was – to keep it shortly: like a biological code was slowly engraining into my being, before it was then tested, precisely, and without second attempt, because the first was always correct.

And for a moment – if I didn't have individual thought, my own will, or even awareness... I would have honestly believed that I was a numb, sensationless, blind, synthetic FFRREAK!

[hehehe...]

'Now that is unsettling.'

And then... nothing. I heard absolutely nothing else for what felt like years since that galling, mischievous laugh. But as I feel my being continue to form, I too slowly feel as if I'm loosing who I am, feeling the ego of who I was gradually wilt away, like... the dead petals of a withering rose, gliding, and gently drifting into a rampant deluge, before these metaphorical rose petals representing my memory are torn apart, shredded to nihility by its violent currents. And... if I had to further describe this eerie sensation, it was almost as if the sun was setting, with night descending upon my existence; and, while most despair the darkness of the night – I fear its decline, the moon's wane; the twilight as the new sun arises from below the horizon; the new day; and into the dawn of mourn. Because when the dawn breaks, and exposes it radiant light – it shines on with a new, blank, and very distant slate.

It's unfortunate really, because I WAS SOO CLOSE! Which is an odd thing to say, considering when I woke up I couldn't tell who I was – or what I was like.

However, as my emotions fluctuate, I notice how the rushing energies around me rippled, before crashing into each other with even more ferocity, resulting in the boundaries of which houses me to shake, and tremble; and as these more powerful upsurging tides rampaged, I felt two more ripples in the energies below me: abruptly appearing, and who in turn sent out their own waves of energy – which eventually countered, and calmed the storm.

"It seems his reformation is near, but for him to be who he was – isn't he rather crude?" One talks smoothly, too smooth, almost like he was some judging advisor.

"Hahaha!" an older, livelier one laughs, "... Do not anger this one – however crude he may be, the higher ones revealed to me that he was amongst the mightiest of their architects..."

"Was he?" The doubter responds with even more doubt.

"He's here isn't he? And it's not like they dropped him here and left without a word – they were kind as to divulge to me stories of men alike, telling me of their origins, their failures, their successes, and their struggles before they joined in the Music of Creation. And they spared no detail in telling of how they concepted, architected, and designed our existence..." with a slow, long, and steady breath, the older, more wiser one continues his oration without exhale, "... They also imparted upon me – mm, the Force energy here tastes sweet – how they re-enacted now what is, but to them: what could have been. Acting out stories of intergalactic romance; the rhapsodies of war; the benefits of friendship and loyalty; the deceptive reality of betrayal; and the cunning nature of espionage – presenting all the ingredients for what they called: a space opera. HAaH-HAH-HAH-Haa! Isn't it fitting?"

The wiser then slowly halts his laugh, before his voice shortly darkening, the tone remaining all throughout, "Though... it never mattered..." continuing, his tone still in low spirit – "... False freedom, power, and material sin became their addiction, and the very weapon that was used against them. It crippled them, it became their hands and feet, and the process of their thought. This thirst, their hunger – their greed for it corrupted their society, and turned the hearts of even the warmest cold. They lost not only their kindness, but their conscience, becoming not like man, but like machine: automatons to their own appetites', with joy and happiness no longer sating them. And then... as their world began to decay... so too did they, their will, their morality, and their creativity. Their minds slowly poisoned – perversed, as that same craved power seduced their soul."

The ruder one sounded puzzled, taking him out of a contemplation, "That was your relief?"

The older laughs, "I thought it was rather simple. Not quite like the humans inhabiting this galaxy, they played the game, saw through every trick and scheme plotted by the wicked, and devious mind, and passed through the greatest of colosseums. But... if that's not enough, then – to put it into better terms: they're tempered like Beskar, and have Whills of Phrik." The younger says nothing, only speaking after some seconds of consideration, "... Hmm, I hope he's more tempered than what you lead on." The older one laughs once again to his response, "Hahaha... He may dance, he may sing, and he may act the fool, but watch closely, you will see – after all... the blackest of sheep may not be black, in fact – it may not even be a sheep at all."

The energies once again ripple and disappear, and their voices are no longer heard, but as some moments pass, I could hear a scrutinizing, wheezing laugh.

[Did I not warn you once before?] A distorted voice of a snarky South Londoner informs that he had warned.

'Who are you?'

[Now look at yourself. What a pity... but lets not be down, and think of this as a chance – and as a consequence for not listening to me.]

'WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!'

[I'm joking of course, just jostling your chain, nobody is punishing you. But one could think of it as self improvement, and a chance... a chance to regain your might – if not more.] The voice ignores me... HOW DARE HE! ANSWER MY QUESTIONS!

'WHERE'S MY FACE!'

[Shh... listen: Instead of slowly creating it, piece by piece – like your other toys and projects, you tested your own limits: attempting in the recreation of a galaxy, a once fictional galaxy, but with your own originality – in the hopes that the Son would grant you permission to bring souls there...] The voice then pauses. Not speaking; not answering my question.

'... Are you paused for my response? Or are you waiting to tell me another truth dabbled with lies?' A thought forced from within. Funny. Not only am I an amnesiac, but also a compelled schizophrenic, If I had vocals I would of outwardly spoke these thoughts.

[HA! Well! I'm going to skip the gritty bits, and say that you were attacked: and it blew you, them, and everything in between into non-existence. And despite how severe that all sounds, it wasn't all that serious – you even came in like an orderly cluster of fragmented stars when the Tree retrieved you...] The voice pauses, with what seems to be a muffled laugh, [... That's why we, as in your family, and twenty others – including me, came together to help complete your vision, with permission to plant a new tree. And guess what? Because we needed extra souls to populate these new universes, you gave some within the lesser Abyss a second chance, congratulations.]

'... Thank you – really. This is a magnificent gift – but I'm afraid I recollect the scenario a tad bit differently. I'm not that rinsed away, that I couldn't perceive even the tiniest strip of my fate, and trust me – I CAN SEE IT VERY FFUCKING CLEARLY! At least... what I can remember...' Responding subconsciously, this involuntary response confounds me, and as the power of my thought resounds and shakes the chamber around me, the being speaking to me releases his radiance, calming the mental storm which quaked this place violently.

With what seemed to be the sound of him smacking his lips together, he speaks again, [Come on... don't be so sour. I'm trying to cushion my words, I don't exactly want to right out say that you were torn, and broken in half: with several of your parts laying upon the ground like crystallized statues of flesh.] The Britishmen then sighs, breathing in – before breathing back out, [I can't tell you what the command was. But if it makes you feel better – me, and another descended, and swept the rest of them up after we felt you kamikaze the mutinous rogues. And I have to hand it to you, it caught me off-guard. Because whenever I arrived I expected something else entirely... but then I was left stunned... shocked... and I'll even go as far to say – appalled.]

'I don't remember "my work." I remember only the cause of my death – not the outcome of it.'

[Oh! And how grand for you to be spared the memory! Because as we adventured through that surrealist hellscape of your own creation: it was awfully hard NOT to memorize the sixty-five million bodies layed sprawled, and plastered across the scenery. And even if I did count that nāšā' merged into the stone wall as a positive – it was still a scandalously grotesque piece... DAMN! What was that artwork called? It's on the tip of my tongue, the Guernica was it? Yes! And it's impressive! – you outdid the painting, even turning my stomach – ever so slightly, and that takes some considerable effort! And – do trust me... we feel terrible about your current predicament. But do at least try and enjoy this for a while – at our expense of course.]

'Expenses can be very expensive – I would say put it on my tab, but I don't remember seeing short-term memory loss listed on my Itinerary. Is that the surprise bonus? At my expense?'

[To an extent. Your earthly memories are returning, evident by your repertoire of expressive terminologies. And while I would like to share with you the full story – I can't. Mainly due to that vast grimoire of knowledge you had possessed, with the story pertaining to said knowledge – which serves as a fair warning: if you adventure too far... and are unprepared – you may find some of that knowledge to be absolutely mind blowing! HAHA!]

'... Duly noted, but w-what is this... this talk about me being fragmented? How many universes exist with little mini-me's running around in them?'

[As many as it took. And its a funny thing you say that – because they all had said the exact same thing.]

FUCK IT! '... Then where am I?'

The familiar voice laughs for a moment, a vision possibly coming to his mind – a possible existential vision, a perception of how small we really are, [... Do you mean outside of this timeless void? Outside all the galaxies which quantifies the stars? Or do you perhaps mean outside the hedrons? Which store the created universes?]

If I could raise my eyebrow, I would. 'Possibly?'

[Then – speaking theoretically... if I were still in the milky way – you would be in a galaxy far, far away. Well... in another universe, in a galaxy far, far away.]

'... a space opera.'

[A Star Wars.]

"Marvelous!" Oh, a nice mellow, light southern accent, how familiar.

And as my own vocals ring, and in the same instance sing an orchestral throughout the void: it signified the end to the reformation of my temple, and the gaining of my sight.

Only to be blinded by the light of a bright pulsing orb, [CONGRATULATIONS!] The orb emits confetti and the sound of a party horn, [YOU'VE BIRTHED FROM THE WOMB OF THE FORCE, WITH THE COMPLETE REGAINING OF YOUR EARTHLY MEMORIES! HURRAH! CELEBRATING NOISES! YES!]

"...."

[Why do I not hear more words of gratitude?]

"Because I'm speechless." Looking down at my hands, an overpowering thought from my subconscious once again influences me, this time to actually speak aloud, "Why am I so tiny?"

[TINY!? What overwhelming gratitude. You're actually taller than most your age, with more abs, and less body fat.]

"Than most my age? Wait... No..."

[Oho yes! You're 5'10 and twelve years old; that's right you drama queen, despite the timelessness of this space, you've been here for twelve years, and four of them consciously... relatively speaking.]

"Mmm, It seemed longer..." looking around the white space, the orb remained silent. "What happens now?"

Circling the air, the orb answers me with excitement in his voice, [I was beginning to wonder when you would ask! This happens!]

The void then instantly began to violently crack and tremble, exposing bright, luminating lights from within the splitting void. And as it quaked, the rift extended its enriched rays, all the way through the voids brightest white, as if it were darkness; and while more cracks and splits tear open, and illuminate the space of the void, another rift opened itself, this time above me, beckoning its appearance with an ear-splitting crackle. And as this new crackling rift continued to divide itself, a massive hand, made of the same light radiating from the tear soon formed, which then took hold, and instantly tore me away, ripping me from the center of the vortex, and into the rift.

However, unbeknownst to me, was the simple overlooked fact that the force energy surrounding me had latched itself onto my skin, acting as a body suit of dried wax lathered in every nook and cranny of my body; and as I was pulled into the rift, these layers of energy wax were forcefully ripped away, yanked into the rift as my screams were subdued, and my body dunked into the open ocean of space, rolling, and rotate about helplessly in its openess, spreading my hands over and about on my body – touching and inspecting my ears, face, skin, dick, and balls to feel and make sure they were still attached to their proper, respective areas.

Which they were. Thank God.

Recovering after a while of rolling, and cursing that orb, thankfully with the capacity to breathe, (awfully thoughtful of him), I now see what seems to be a wall of water in front of me. Lowering my hand towards the watery plane, I skim the tips of my fingers across its surface, rippling its reflective stillness. And as these once tranquil waters rippled endlessly, memories belonging to the inhabitants of this galaxy came forth from its depths, protruding, and forming like a puddle. However, as this puddle continued to form, watery roots began to rise from the abyss, coming forth with the intent to pierce my mind – and, as they approached closer, the sprouted roots continued to spread out further, becoming smaller, curving, and preparing to force their way into the back of my skull, before I received a pull: not as a grab, but as a magnetic tug when I was suddenly pulled back into the rift...

Now this... I don't remember.

Thrown out of the rift face first, I sat up, and onto my knees, lowering my head into my hands, and covering my face from the pain. And, when I opened my eyes – as I observed my surroundings through the slits of my fingers: I perceived a distorted place in space and time. No... to be more exact, it was almost as if I was inside a wall: with gates floating in the open space, and ones placed on the boundary of this place, they acted as the entry and exit way for around and between the space which separates them, with bright, white dual lines illuminating them, same with the paths which connected them, highlighting, and brightly discerning the way so you don't fall from the path you chose, if you somehow got up there.

"Damn I'm dizzy." Looking down, even with my blurred, concussed vision, I could see a very defining reflection: lightly tanned – Caucasian skin, and long, untamed, brunette bronze hair with fiery amber highlights floating in the open air, dancing around my shoulders as if I was immersed underwater, with crackling embers snapping, and popping off the ends of my amber strands. And as I turned my head, I notice seven lights adorning, and floating about like a coronet, or a civic crown placed around the occipital, and temporal regions of my head. And... I'm only guessing that this is all temporary, otherwise not only am I going to be a target of lust by all female races - but I'm also going to be seduced by the damn mirrors.

Oh and look at this – my eyes glow with a burning bronze, mixed with the same fiery amber which colors the strands of my hair. And even my iris and pupil resemble a damn splotch painting, AND! And... oh-ohoh – oh mein gott... look at zis jawline!

And while I could freely inspect my face, I couldn't further observe the physical aspects of my body: as I was covered in an impossibly soft crimson red tunic, worn without stain or wrinkle, and a bright white cotton toga – draped over my shoulder in effort, and elegance, as they came together like a set piece, producing both a warm, and soothing aura to my soul.

Feeling as the pathway beneath me tingled the entire lower half of my body, I lower my hand to touch its surface, gliding my fingers across its plane, and feeling the texture of its electromagnetic crystalline surface, experiencing as the static jolts of latent energy stored within numbs my limbs, and watching as my movements rippled the surface like it were a stagnant stream of water, or like the wall of water I had seen previously.

Shortly glancing back towards the dark, triangular gateway I was thrown from, I got up, and onto my feet, turning my head as if it was upon a swivel, before looking out, and watching as blurred lines trace the paths of the open space, observing as they enter this place without a sound, then vanish as soon as they appear, leaving far behind their atmospheric, howling crackles, which reverberated through, and haunted this space in-between – even after they've gone.

But, as I continued to gaze off into the distance, my body immediately freezes in its place, my eyes darting down reflexively, gazing down into the abyss below; and as I stood there, realizing I was about to take the longest dip of my life, allll the way into the deep, abyssal ocean below, I have never felt a more personal connection to a phrase, but one that goes: 'like lemmings to the sea' fits in the most literal sense.

Clenching my chest after I felt my heart nearly explode, my eyes race around the circular intersection that I was about to cruise off of, before coursing the four conjoining roads connected to it, trailing them as two of the paths, each on the left and right, bent upwards, before twisting in the middle into an hour glass form, which connected up to another, larger intersection: this time with eight intersecting paths, with four of its paths, two both on the left and right, bent upwards like the ones below them, also twisting together in the same hour glass form, leading up to an even bigger intersection, this time with twelve paths.

Looking up at this large spherical stack of circular intersections, I spent a good many moments pondering upon where I would go, or how I would even fuckin' get there, when a sudden crack of light appeared above, dispersing a bright orb now distinctly made of clear, unyielding flame: before it descended like a falling elevator, halting its rapid descent within seven meters above, [Do you recognize this place?]

"Perhaps... but-uhm where am I supposed to go? I'm not-uh... magnetic?"

[... You're inside of a world between worlds, and as for where you're supposed to be: It was the door you walked away from.]

Suddenly picked up like a ragdoll, I exclaim "REALLY?!" as the orb laughs [HAHA, YES!] before viciously slinging me back to my original position, screaming "I DISLIKE YOU EVEN MORE!" as my entire body flailed and rotated uncontrollably through the air, before halting suddenly, and falling, dropping me back onto the electrifyingly cold, dark, reflective surface.

Standing back up, I am once again in front of the triangular gateway, but this time – different. With strange runes, foreign glyphs, and the figures of wolves forming into waves, swirls, shapes, and pareidolic images as it was rotating within its lines, moving, and shifting – while the top of the gateway centered a radiant cross, glowing and brilliant, with a sword set a blazed within: the flame, however, was not of an raging inferno – but of an elegant, and orderly flicker.

[What is your name?] The orb sarcastically insults me as it floats above the gateway, and since I cannot remember my name, my mind goes on a tangent: bringing up names, names that rhyme with those names, and names that aren't even names, but one name suddenly pops into my head – one I feel to be fitting... I'm jokstering around of course, I just like the sound of it. "Hm... Tirion..."

[... Really?]

"Damn straight..."

[.... Well I'm going to give you the rundown, you're going to replace Anakin becau–]

"Replacing him? Why?"

[BECAUSE... I can twist, and balance the energies of this galaxy to your favor, since you were created, born, and molded from it you're more connected, and I'll have an easier time. But... the problem with you and Anakin co-existing is that two 'children' of the force cannot simply co-exist: first reason is that you both have a special force signature, and like Anakin, you too are destined to bring balance to the force. The second reason is connected to the first: the force has sentience, It would become confused, presenting trials and personifications to pick its Chosen, and we decided to save that – just for a little touch of spice... though its only incase you jump into an original timeline.]

"Mhm, so do I step through now?"

[I'm not done dumping information into that thick skull of yours. Now – the moment you step through you will be transported to Tatooine, and take the place of Anakin in front of Watto's shop; however – because we know how much of a manic sauvage you are, we'll turn a blind eye to the events about to conspire, but do not cross the line, and don't destroy those who do not deserve your wrath. And please! For the love of everything in-between! Control your impulses! That includes your appetites when in intimate situations... PLEASE!?]

"What?"

[And don't forget about your abilities either, you have almost double the midi-chlorian count, and a greater natural ability in Mechu-Deru than Anakin. It may take you a moment to have a general understanding of the parts and pieces you will touch, but you'll learn. For your other abilities, it'll all come with time and exploration of your power, which wouldn't take much time, or it could take a long time, depends.]

Nodding my head while preparing to step through, the orb once again stops me,

[Oh I almost forgot, take this...]

Feeling a slight, sudden weight around my neck, and a grip of cold metal against my chest, I look down to see what seemed to be an over-sized, ornately engraved, iron cross necklace, with small Latin, Aramaic, and Judaic inscriptions inscribed into it; although – if it didn't have this cold ass chain around it, I would have probably guessed that it was a hilt – which it most probably is.

[You're shrouded by the Force, and will appear atomic to those not trying with all their might to sense the midi-chlorians in your cells, which they will if you don't use your own will to hide them. But... if you choose to release your energy for whatever reason you deem adequate – an anticyclonic storm of force energy 5,000 miles wide would clog the senses of every force user in the system – May the Force, and blessings of the Son be with you.]

"Aww, that warms my-" was all I got out before I was forcefully pulled back into the doorway, once again dunked into the ocean of memories, and brought right back out, this time twisting my body to land on my feet, before being thrown into my destination in the opposite direction, again landing on a hard surface, though only this time instead of the dark, static cold – it was on the scorching pourstone of a Mos Espan street, "... Mmm, hot sand."