Transcending Limitations

by Brian Wilkerson

  The burning spread and melted the rest of his metal skin. Fire burst from inside him as his blood combusted. The pain was unimaginable. Not even his bones escaped. In the end, only his soul remained and that, too, burned.

  Then he sat up. He checked himself but couldn’t find any injuries. None of this was making any sense. Then, without meaning to, he tried to walk on his hands. He thought they were his feet.

  He checked himself again to make sure everything was in the right place. After confirming that, yes, his legs were beneath him and his arms were in front of him, he stood up. Then he stumbled into the wall. His third try sent him straight into the opposite wall. His sense of balance was gone. It was like he had never walked before.

  A feminine giggle commanded his attention.

  Annala stood in front of him. Her hood was down so he could see her beautiful face, playful smile, and gleaming golden hair. She coughed to compose herself and Eric stood to greet her, only to stagger back and forth like a drunk sailor, which sent her into fresh laughter. She covered her mouth with her gloved hands in a vain attempt to hide it. Eric gave up on walking and settled for leaning on his staff.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She cleared her throat a second time. “My chaos taint and adapters split my soul into multiple copies along the time and space continuum, which all link back to a single unified identity existing on a higher plane of metaphysical existence while spreading out across every part and aspect of every lower plane.” She made a reeling silk gesture with her hands. “In other words, I’m everywhere!” Then she stopped and asked, “Who are you?”

  Playing strangers? “It’s me. Why would you ask that?”

  “Because I don’t know you. Well, I technically know you because I can see into your soul, your past, and your future. I probably know you better than anyone else ever could, but I don’t recognize you because I’ve never met you.”

  “Annala, stop playing around. I’m Eric Watley, your boyfriend.”

  At this, Annala outright laughed. “You can’t possibly be him. He’s ginger.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m...”

  Annala waved her hand and the air shimmered. It shifted from invisible molecules to solid matter. It further refined into a reflective surface and it showed Eric someone who wasn’t Eric.

  “...not ginger.”

  He didn’t have red hair anymore. It was blond. His eyes were brown instead of blue. His chin was smaller, his cheekbones were lower, and his ears were a little bigger. His arms and legs were lankier.

  “Exactly. You’re not Eric Watley and so you can’t be my boyfriend. Goodbye!”

  “Wait!”

  Eric lunged forward but tripped on his own feet. He caught himself this time and stared at the priestess’ hemline as she faded away.

  “What happened? I remember melting, and fire and ashes and...fire and ashes!”

  He looked again into the reflective surface Annala left behind and he found what he was looking for. The ashes that the Fire Sage put on his forehead were still there. They were the only thing that stayed the same.

  “Ashes from the down of a phoenix. Am I a phoenix now? But I thought that was the end result, not the start. Regardless, I don’t want to look like this.”

  Closing his eyes, he willed his body to look like himself. Then he opened his eyes and a wonderful sight awaited him. Annala was back.

  “See? It’s me again, ginger and everything.”

  Annala smiled and he reached out to her. She reached out to him, but his hand passed through hers. Her image flickered. It was an illusion created by the volcano’s steam. She smiled impishly and grabbed his hand nonetheless. She pulled him forward and he decided to go with it.

  The solid steam vision of his girlfriend led him down the tunnel to a large crack in the ground. A stream of mist shot forth as a geyser. Then it stopped just as suddenly. Annala let go of Eric and jumped across the gap. With the same hand that held his, she beckoned him to follow. Eric couldn’t help but obey but not yet.

  He waited for the next steam vent to pass and counted the seconds between it and the third one. Annala tapped her foot. He held up a hand and waited for the gap between the third and the fourth, and then the fourth and the fifth. Annala crossed her gloved arms and pouted. Now with the gap between the fifth and the sixth, Eric jumped.

  He crossed without a problem. Annala applauded. Then she pushed him backwards. Eric fell into the steam just as it came. Down the crack and towards the source of it as it cooked him alive. His mind shut off before he reached the bottom.

  Then he woke up on the ledge again. Annala was there with another mirror. Now he had blue hair that fell to his shoulders and a flat face with a different skin tone. His shoulders were broader than before and his fingers were thicker. His legs were a little shorter. His eyes were closer together. For the second time, he undid these changes.

  This time, walking was easier. There was less confusion as he adjusted to his new body. He also felt lighter, as if there was less weighing him down. Then he asked, “Are you...the real Annala or some fire phantom?”

  The apparition blew him a kiss and vanished.

  Eric shrugged and started walking. He walked so long that he got tired and took a nap. Then he woke up and started walking again until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He took another nap and resumed walking. To pass the time, he contemplated topics ranging from Physician What fanwank (there was plenty of it) to obscure magical theories and from existential philosophy to what clothes his girlfriend would look the cutest wearing. This continued until his hair greyed and his organs failed. He burned into ashes. The flames settled and then flared up again. Eric was a young man once more. This time, he conjured his own mirror.

  The first thing he checked was the circle of ashes on his forehead. His hair was brown this time, and poofy. He touched it and then tried to press it down. That failed, so he tried to slick it down with his saliva, which also failed.

  “I am NOT going to live this life as a chia creature!” He took a closer look at his face and muttered, “Well, at least the rest of me is handsome.” He snapped his fingers. “Wouldn’t you agree, Grey Dengel?”

  The ghostly apparition appeared at his left side. “Indeed. If you shaved off that absurd fuzz, then you would resemble the Hairless Monks I studied with in Namtoip.”

  “How about you, Tasio?”

  The trickster appeared at his right side. He took one look at Eric and laughed himself silly(er). He calmed down, recited a certain company’s jingle, and then cracked up a second time. Eric smiled at his amusement and continued walking until he burst into flames again.

  Flames at his death and flames at his birth; his life was the space between them. After confronting eternity, he arrived at a stone door. It was marked by a phoenix spreading its wings over a dual setting and rising sun.

  Inside the room was a dais and upon the dais was a grand phoenix. As tall as a tower and as wide as a city wall, it dwarfed him. Its plumage was golden yellow. Crimson colored its pinion feathers; blood or fire? Orange colored its down; sunrise or sunset? Its talons were grey bone and steel. Its eyes held the intensity of an exploding volcano.

  “Welcome, Eric Watley.” Its breath was sulfur. “I have been expecting you.”

  Eric made a little bow but didn’t take his eyes off the divine being.

  “I thank you for the audience, Fire Phoenix.”

  “You stand before me seeking eternal life. The rebirth through fire that you have experienced here. Do you still wish for it?”

  “I do.”

  “Why do you believe yourself worthy of it?”

  “I was reborn through the first spell, and then a second time through the echo of primordial flames. A third time, I was reborn in a trial by fire. Furthermore, I aided in the rebirth of others. I put my very flesh under the sword and anvil for Annala Enaz out of the passion of my heart and I testified to the world for the rebirth of mana mutation’s victims. This I
have done on behalf of Fiol’s Torch. Now I humbly request your aid in my fourth rebirth.”

  “Granted.”

  The phoenix turned its head and brought forth its right wing. In a single motion, it plucked out a brilliant feather. Then it deposited the pinion at Eric’s feet.

  “Take this with my blessing.”

  Eric took the feather in his hands and it shrank to fit. “Thank you very much, Fire Phoenix. May your fire burn brightly forever.”

  “And may yours as well.”

  Eric placed the feather into one of his three coat pockets. Then Fire Phoenix lifted its left wing to reveal the exit.

  In the second tunnel, Eric spent another lifetime talking with Grey Dengel and Tasio. He considered this time well spent because it was with one of the greatest academics in Tariatlan history and one of its one greatest comedians. Despite the dullness of his surroundings, there was never a boring moment. At last, he was old again and then ashes again. As he sat up, he checked himself and smiled ear to ear.

  “I’m finally me again!”

  A sword came out of his chest. Lances of pain shot across his body and he coughed up a tablespoon of blood. Looking over his shoulder, he grimaced and said, “Really?”

  The one carrying the sword was a fox beastfolk and he looked to be in even worse shape than Eric.

  His hands were shaking. His arms were cut up. His cheeks were tear-stained. His clothing was soiled with sweat, ashes, burns, and piss. He was barefoot and his feet were constantly bleeding and burning. What intrigued Eric most was his eyes.

  They were wild, but not like his own. This was born of an emotional breakdown. Without concern for the man himself, Eric’s mind began working out what could cause such a tragedy. Then the fox ripped the sword out and he coughed up more blood.

  “Okay, let’s hear it. Why do you want to kill me?”

  “Fire. Burning. *cough* It’s all burning. *cough* It’s gone. Where is she?!”

  “You think I’m responsible for a fire?”

  The foxman waved his sword back and forth. “Where is my fiancée?!”

  His eyes didn’t follow Eric movements as he dodged. After every third strike or so, he had to stop due to a coughing fit.

  “The dragon *cough* is lonely. Gold is wor*Cough *cough*. I have to fi*cough*!”

  Eric stepped to the inside of a swing, grabbed the guy’s wrist, and twisted it away from himself. The sword now pointed harmlessly at the ground.

  “Was your fiancée kidnapped by a dragon?”

  The foxman erupted into flames. “Dragon. Dragon. *cough*. Take me to eternity!” The flames abruptly ceased and he fell to his hands and knees.

  “It’s been so long...! Did she stop? *cough* Did she die? Where am I and where am I going? AAAAHHHHH! *cough* *cough* I never should have...*cough* *heave*” The rest was choked out by sobs and coughs.

  Eric’s fatal injury was forgotten in favor of something more interesting. This man here presented a puzzle and he wished to solve it before moving on.

  The only reason to be here was to become a gilded spirit. Given his line about eternity, it was likely he wished to live forever. He was looking for his fiancée and also focused on a dragon. There was the traditional answer that he wished for immortality as a fall back on losing the fight and there was the same reason as Eric.

  “No...I don’t suppose you’re engaged to a dragon?”

  Immediately, the foxman jumped to his feet and faltered like a drunkard. That dopey look on his face was not madness but love sickness.

  “What a lovely woman...I’m a lucky man...if only I could get out of here! No. No. No. To live forever, you need to be patient. I just have to find a new route... *cough* *cough* but there is only one route! How *cough* do*cough* I *cough keep going in circles?!”

  Right then...Next question.

  If he were engaged to one of the immortal dragons, then naturally he would want to become immortal himself. There were several proven methods of doing so and one of them was becoming a gilded spirit. Several of Kasile’s ancestors had done so after stepping down from the throne in favor of their children, and it was always a big deal when one of them was successful. The Fire Sage called a jubilee year each time, so any immortality seeker, such as this man here, would know of it. He also didn’t like sharing the details of the event with anyone other than the monarch, as Eric well knew, so how did this random beastfolk get it in?

  Ironic punishment!

  He tried to steal the information and the catalyst needed to make the information worth anything. He had been caught. Now he wandered about in a mind-bending maze of fire and despair.

  The following question is...Should I help him?

  If this was his punishment, then aiding him could anger the clerics and that would put his own objective at stake. On the other hand, if this man had the same objective as he did, then should he not help? It was the moral and practical thing to do. Then an idea struck him. This was a Torch Day activity.

  Torch Day, a holy day for these clerics about sharing fire and warmth. This could be a secret test of character.

  “I’m going to help you,” Eric said at last.

  “You’re what?” the foxman asked.

  “I’m going to help you escape this tunnel and become a fire deity.”

  “That’s fantastic!”

  “Yes, it is, but one thing first.”

  “What? Anything!”

  “I have to die.”

  The blood from the wound at the start of this encounter had created quite the pool at Eric’s feet. Now it burst into flames and Eric aided the process by starting a second fire inside himself. In moments, he was ashes.

  “I live again!” Eric declared. “...That was oddly high pitched. Am I...?” He felt his throat, then his chest, and then one more place. “I am! I’m a girl...this will be a fascinating experience!” He struck a pose for his...her… one-person audience. “How do I look?”

  “Ah...”

  “Don’t worry. This isn’t one of those ‘only one correct answer’ things. Tell me honestly.”

  “You’re flat and sort of mannish. Short hair doesn’t become you in this form.”

  Eric closed “her” eyes and shifted. The residue of the chaos seed added a little in front, emphasized feminine attributes in the new face, and added a few inches to the hair. Then she opened her eyes and asked, “How about now?”

  “This can’t possibly be important.”

  “Tell me or I will be cross.”

  “This form is more attractive, yes.”

  “Good. Let’s go!” Eric ran down the tunnel, and after ten steps, she spun around and ran back. “Did you notice that my clothes changed with my gender? I’m wearing the same skirt and blouse and lipstick ensemble as Kallen. I wonder if that’s connected to this fire rebirth thing? Do you think we’ll find out at the end of this tunnel?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Eric ran back down the tunnel. She made it twenty paces further before she skidded to a halt, turned around, and ran back. The foxman still hadn’t moved.

  “By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Pontus,” the foxman said. “Nickolas Maximilian Pontus.”

  “Pontus it is, then.” Eric stuck her hand out and shook that of her new friend. “I’m Eric Watley, but I suppose Erica would be more appropriate now. Who ever heard of a girl named Eric? ‘Wanted a son, those parents. Poor girl.’ So! For the remainder of this lifetime, I shall be known as Erica.”

  “Are you The Trickster?”

  Erica glared. “No.” Then she smiled. “But you’re close enough.”

  Then she ran down the tunnel a third time, and now with Pontus following behind her.

  At fixed points, the foxman would get this blank look in his eyes and walk backwards. At these points, Erica would grab his arm and pull him forward. Then she would ask if he were aware of this event. He shook his head every time.

  “Either they’re deliberately messing with your mind, or you are the
root cause. I don’t believe it’s them because if it is them, then it is a half-hearted effort indeed. I can break it with just a touch; no magical or spiritual influence at all. Therefore, I think you are responsible.”

  “That’s *cough* absurd. Why wou *cough* I do *cough* that?”

  “Look at that; you’re coughing again. You don’t think you deserve it. You’re deliberately staying here to metaphorically burn away your sins, or maybe you don’t want to succeed because there’s something in your relationship that holds you back.”

  Pontus crossed his arms and looked away. “I’m not going to open up to *cough *cough* a stranger, especially one *cough* as strange *cough* as you.”

  She pouted. “How rude.” She stuck a finger in her mouth and then into Pontus’ ear. He screamed and jumped away. “Now you can call me strange.”

  In addition to preventing him from reversing course involuntarily, Erica also had to use her grip on his arm to support him. His body was running hotter than her own and his skin more brittle, like it was fire baked. He tired easily and sweated profusely. To Erica, the area was little more than a hotter-than-standard sauna.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “Quite.” He coughed up something nasty.

  “Really? ‘Cause from my point of view, you’re being boiled by something. The Fire Sage said something about ‘suffocating on the smoke of your own sins.’ I’ve killed a couple people maliciously and I’m still feeling pretty good. You must have done some awful stuff.”

  “I’M FINE!”

  As if the shout took all his strength, he sank to his knees. Despite Erica’s pulling, he couldn’t stand back up. He jerked his arm away from her and crouched forward.

  “...To live forever, you need to be ruthless.”

  “I see. Necrocraft?” Erica asked.

  “One of many things I tried.”

  “So you soaked your hands in blood, tainted your soul with evil, and filled your mind with wicked schemes, all for the sake of the woman you love.”

  Pontus nodded miserably.

  “You’re my kind of guy.”