by M. K. Gibson
“You just wanted to gloat that you betrayed me,” I grumbled.
“Precisely,” the high god said. “You have no idea how much joy it brings me to have assisted in the plan to make you dance for us.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, could you say that again? All I heard you say was ‘I’m a butt-chugging Luddite with a micro-penis.”
“You’re cute when you’re beaten,” Y’olly said from his spot. “I have to say, I love the moxie, but you never had a chance, hoss.”
“Et tu, Y’olly?” I asked.
“Sorry, bud. They made me a great offer.”
“What? Another promotion? Control of the Never Realm? Your own reality show?”
“Nah, permits for the amusement park.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re shitting me. You sold me out for permits? I could have gotten you those permits.”
“I know,” the demon said. “You have any idea how embarrassing it is to have to stand before the Lord Under the Fallen Sky and admit that my best ideas come from a mortal-turned-minor god?”
I rolled my eyes. He was a demon, after all. Any relationship you fostered with them had an expiration date. I then turned my eyes to Myst.
“And you? You getting a bigger parking spot?”
“The biggest,” she said, beaming with pride.
“You’re getting my dimension, aren’t you?”
“All of it,” Myst admitted. “The dimension, the business, all of it. You’re looking at the new Shadow Master.”
I looked at her and, despite my chains, did my best to shrug. “You know . . . I’m not even mad. Sure, I have to kill you, but it isn’t personal. I trained you too well. I should have seen the ol’ Sith Rule of Two coming.”
I swung my head around to Dmitrius. “I don’t even have to ask why you’re doing this.”
“Nope,” the big celestial said. “I suffered through your childish antics simply to help get you here.”
“Gods above and below, you’re boring,” I said, dismissing the cosmic errand boy. “So, Valliar. Lemme guess, Y’olly’s line about beings invading Caledon, forcing you to cause a cataclysm, was bullshit?”
“No,” the High God said. “That was true. It was time for my universe to be reset. As always, once the technology of man and dwarves reaches a certain peak, we gods have to reset, lest they no longer need us.”
I nodded. “It really is the best way to maintain control. So you had me take out your rivals, then?”
“Exactly,” Valliar said. “And you did so perfectly. Dispatching two high gods, and members of the Trinity, no less, sent a message across the multiverse. Of course Hermov and Branwen didn’t know I was betraying them.”
“Naturally,” I said. “Otherwise, they would have acted differently, and I might have suspected something. I did something similar to old my minion.”
“You see so clearly for a minor god.”
“So what’s your angle? You going for the big boy seat?” I asked with a wry grin. “You next in line to be The One?”
“No,” Valliar said with a smile.
“Really?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “I thought you’d want your ‘justice’ to spread across the multiverse.”
“NO,” boomed a powerful voice.
Before me atop the central dais, appearing from nothing, was the glowing white light form of The One.
“Once this ceremony is complete, there will no longer be ‘The One’. In fact, many of the lesser universes will simply cease to be. Their power will be absorbed by the powerful few that remain.”
“Why?” I asked. “What does this get you?”
“Frankly, Jackson, I am tired,” The One said. “Tired of balancing existence.”
“Then retire,” I said, not caring for manners.
The One shook its head. “I seek blissful oblivion. Then, in my absence, let the universes do as they will.”
“They need a guide,” I said.
“No, they need a culling,” The One said. “With the sacrifice of your daughter, the demi-god offspring of a god who was never to be, I can finally break the cycle. I can end my own existence and the need for The One.”
The One sat on the stone altar next to Evie in an almost human way, like an old man on a park bench.
“Surely you see what happens when lesser powers rise up against greater ones?” The One said. “When the dimensional landscape is littered with novice worlds, it diminishes the proud works and quality of the exalted. No. Let the weak die off and cease to be.”
I shook my head. “You sound like big corporations back in the Prime Universe. The ones mad at independent literature, movies, television, news outlets, and music. You’re mad because people aren’t paying attention to you and turning to alternate sources of entertainment and worship.”
Valliar nodded. “Exactly.”
“Then you’re as dumb as they are,” I said. “Those sources are mostly shit.”
“Which is why they will be eradicated once I am no more,” The One said, lying down next to Evie.
I sighed. “Then you are both dumb. The successful powers in the Prime Universe ensure that the landscape is littered with substandard media. Doing so makes everyone of the unwashed masses think they can be something that they clearly are not. The deluded fools spend oodles of their own capital thinking their dreams can come true. They strive to be the next great writer, musician, podcast or YouTube star. And almost all of them fail. They fail and then consume what the mainstream feeds them. So few of the indies succeed that their prowess isn’t worth squashing, because while they act like a community, they don’t want real competition either.”
“Despite your being a minor god, your perspective is mortal and therefore fallible,” Valliar declared.
“And your refusal to accept the truth is dangerously close to that of the idiots who are dominated by partisan practices,” I said. “You think that by removing The One and destroying your competition, it will give you free will. All you are truly doing is creating a prison of your own making.”
“He’s stalling,” Myst said. “I’ve suffered through far too many of his rants to not see that he is biding his time. He’s searching for a way out of this.”
“Oh Myst, whatever do you mean?” I asked with a vulpine grin.
“No help is coming for you, Jackson,” Y’olly said. “Because we know something you don’t know.”
“Yeah, Y’olly? And just what might that be?”
“Hello Jackson,” came a voice from behind me.
A familiar voice.
I hung my head, not wanting to accept the truth. But you can’t argue with the outcome when you add up all the facts. There was only one person with the power, means, motivation, desire, and fortitude to orchestrate a successful coup against me. I rolled my head slightly to the side, pausing to rest my ear against my shoulder, then slowly lifted it, addressing the newcomer.
“Hello . . . Sophia.”
Chapter Forty-One
Where Watch My Enemies Gloat, Have a Multifaceted Conversation, Find Fault in Unreal Synchronicity, and Finally Find a Use for Bad Art
The pieces of the puzzle all came into place. And damn me for a fool for not seeing them sooner.
The prophecy spoke of the coming of a demigod, born of a god not meant to be. The second piece of the prophecy I’d read at the well on Erinerung specifically mentioned some kind of ceremony in the presence of The All or The None. At the time, I thought it was the poetic nonsense most bad fiction writers use for flowery effect.
But there I was, in The Nexus Point, in The Bliss, the place that exists but doesn’t, in the presence of the all. All five races. The Celestial, The Infernal, The Mortal, The God and . . . the Djinn.
Sophia stood before me. Free of my realm and apparently free of my control.
“Hello Jackson,” she said with a smile.
“Hello,” I said back.
“That’s rather curt of you.” Sophia smirked. “I know you must hate this, but I’
ve warned you time and time again that I would one day destroy you.”
“Yes,” I simply said, staring her in the eyes while I pulled against the chains holding me.
“Try all you like, Jackson,” Sophia said. “Even at full power, those chains were designed to hold a god. Even a High God can’t break free of them.”
“Shut up and help me,” I growled.
“Help you?” Sophia asked with a shake of her head. “Oh, Jackson. This is the end for you. And the end of Evie. I’d like to say I’ll miss her, but I won’t. Once she is sacrificed, my revenge against the Blackwell family will be complete. In this new universe, one where The One no longer exists, imagine all the havoc a djinn like me can wreak. Oh, the fun I will have, watching it all burn.”
“You want me to beg?” I asked.
“No, I don’t want you to beg,” Sophia said. “In fact, I no longer want anything to do with you.”
“Can you do me one favor?” I asked.
“And what kind of favor do you want?” Sophia asked, her human face melting away, revealing the djinn form beneath.
“The prophecy. The one concerning the child of the god who was not meant to be. It was written in the Fifth Tongue. Language of the djinn.”
Sophia shook her head, laughing slightly. “Do you remember our little talk? On our way to the planet with the ancient temple? I even asked, right then, why you hadn’t accused me. And you gave me some sappy answer about me loving your spawn and changing who I was. You didn’t even directly ask if I took her. At first I chalked it up to your human side being concerned about little Evie. But now? Now I see it is because you are . . . well, so dumb. So arrogant. Another reason that I gladly take my vengeance on you now.”
“You mind just cutting to the chase?” I asked.
Sophia’s lip curled back in a sneer. “For fuck’s sake, Jackson, you even saw that the prophecy was written in the language of the djinn. Of course we were the ones who wrote it! And you didn’t suspect it I was behind it? You have the gall to call yourself the Shadow Master?”
“It seems I do,” I said.
“I can see your mind spinning. You’re looking for the angles. Looking for a way out. Not this time,” my former partner said. “We’ve had a lot of fun together, Jackson. We really did. But this is the end of our partnership. The end of us.”
“Fine,” I said. “If this is the end, then let it be the end. I don’t care anymore.”
Sophia looked at me.
Then spit in my face.
“Fucking quitter,” she sneered.
“Apparently so,” I said.
“Come on, Sophia,” Y’olly called out. “While I enjoy kicking a man while he’s down as much as the next demon, we have a ritual to complete.”
“You’re right,” Sophia said, looking me over. “He’s broken.”
Sophia gave me one last look of disapproval and then took her spot on the empty circular platform reserved for a djinn.
“You ready to lose it all, boss?” Myst called out in a mocking tone. “Too bad Wendell isn’t here. He may have been a huge dork, but he was loyal. I bet you regret killing off Wraith Knight now.”
“I do,” I said coldly.
Myst turned away, dismissing me as one dismisses a piece of trash or a white sprinter—completely useless.
The representatives of the five races held their arms above their heads and began a low chant in unison. A glowing nimbus formed around their respective stone circles. Powerful beams of energy suddenly split the air, rocketing skyward from the circles. I could see each of the five through the cylinders of nearly transparent white energy. From each of the stone circles, I watched as energy slowly crept along carved lines in the ground towards the central dais, enveloping both The One and Evie. My daughter slowly began to thrash, and the light of The One began to diminish. As the ritual continued, I only had two thoughts:
One, I had to save Evie.
And two . . . when the hell did they have time to practice? I mean, that synchronized chanting thing is harder than you think. You ever notice that? In books and movies when the evil cult is performing some ritual, all the cultists and leaders are really good at saying the magic words, or performing the intricate movements, in unison. Not to derail the story, but that’s kind of bullshit.
You ever sing along to a song in the car with someone? You both know the words, but you still mess up here and there. Now imagine if you messed up, some ancient eldritch being would consume your soul and blight your sanity.
I know a guy who performs in barbershop quartets who have to practice several times a week just to sing in unison. And these chumps sounded like a well-oiled machine.
(Note I didn’t say “friend” who sings in the quartet. I think it goes without saying, if that particular vehicle of performance is your calling, you likely don’t have real friends.)
“An all-powerful being,” I said under my breath with a smile.
The ritual continued. Evie looked as if she were fading out of existence. The One’s light had dimmed to where I could almost make out the form of a man. I didn’t have long.
With a sigh of resignation, I shrugged off the chains, freeing myself. The rattling of the metal hitting the stone ground was loud enough for Sophia to notice.
“What? How?” she asked in disbelief, breaking the chanting.
“You bet against me,” I said, stepping forward. “And that was stupid.”
The ritual, temporarily broken, caused a backlash of power. Each of the cylinders of light they stood within suddenly hardened like glass. Caged, my enemies were contained for only a few moments. The flow of power broken, my daughter to looked on me for the first time since she had been taken from me.
“D-daddy?” Evie said weakly as her eyes fluttered open and focused on me. I saw her shed the smallest tear. “Y-you came.”
“I did, baby.” I smiled at her, letting my own tear fall. Then, letting my resolve settle upon me like a mantle of vengeance, I looked at each of my conspirators. “Daddy’s here.”
The five beings all looked at me, unsure of what was happening. Too bad for them, I had an ace or two up my sleeve. Or to be precise, a picture and a spare soul full of love. To you plebes that might seem like nothing. But to someone like me, in a place like The Nexus Point, I had all I needed.
Reaching into my coat’s inner pocket, I removed my one remaining item. The one my enemies saw no reason to take, as it was no weapon. It was, after all, simply a crude drawing of me . . . holding a goddamn laser gun.
Infusing the picture with the soul of Lydia Barrowbride, the Mother of Evelyn Blackwell and the most badass bitch I’ve ever known, the picture transformed into the very weapon my daughter had mentally given me. And the soul of my dearly departed wife was hungry. Hungry for anyone who would hurt her child.
Holding the gleaming gun, I shifted my target from person to person as I stepped forward to free my daughter. “Okay, who dies first?”
Chapter Forty-Two
Where A Conversation Is Revealed, A Message Is Sent, and a Monthly Desire Is Known
The weapon in my hand thirsted for the blood of my enemies. The enemies that dared steal her daughter. I took aim, letting the gun guide me as to which victim would be first. I--
Wait wait wait. Let’s pump the brakes for a moment before the tale continues.
I know, I know, it’s taboo to break the tension of the climax. Heh . . . climax. But seriously, think of it as a delayed orgasm. You hold off as long as possible so that the release is so much sweeter.
Some of you—I’m not naming names—won’t understand what I’m saying. It’s okay. You’re likely dumb and poor. You see, if you continue to spray your seed and incubate future societal parasites on the regular, then your kids will grow up thinking that face and neck tattoos, ear spacers big enough to fit a fist trough, sleeveless shirts, and stocking tights are a way of life.
But who am I to judge. The world needs unskilled labor, tattoo parlors, gym bros, hairdresse
rs, and fast-food assistant managers.
Back to my point. I broke the moment of the story to let you, dear reader, in on a little secret. A peek behind the curtain, if you will. I’m sure it has to be bugging some of you that I effortlessly freed myself from an enchanted chain designed to hold a god. While it was pretty cool, I had a secret.
Wanna know what it was? Shh . . . I’ll whisper it.
I wasn’t a god anymore.
Yeah, how about that? Neat, huh? Good for me, my enemies didn’t realize I was standing there bluffing my ass off. Yeah, I used Lydia’s soul to turn that drawing Evie made into a powerful gun of vengeance. But what good is one laser gun and no god powers considering where I was?
Now, how did I cease being a god? Well, do me a favor. Turn back to the end of Chapter 40. There was a moment while I was tied up and right when Sophia presented herself. There’s a section that reads: “I rolled my head slightly to the side, pausing to rest my ear against my shoulder, then slowly lifted it.”
I then proceeded to have a conversation with her. An odd conversation, wasn’t it? That’s because I wasn’t talking to her. I only wanted her to think I was. I was in fact, talking on my earpiece, which I’d activated. So the following is what I was really doing.
********
Five minutes ago . . .
The Dread Lich Lord Morakesh sharpened the pencil to a fine point and placed it on his desk in perfect alignment alongside the four other pencils he had sharpened. While thankful for employment, the Lich was exceptionally bored.
Fortunately for him, the office phone rang.
“Hello. Blackwell Villain Consulting Agency, where your villainy is our number one concern. This is The Dread Lich Lord Morakesh. How may I direct your call?”
“Hello,” a rich baritone said.
“Mr. Blackwell, is that you?” Morakesh asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s good to hear from you. How goes your rescue operation?”
“Shut up and help me,” Mr. Blackwell growled.
