The Mage's War: Chapter One PART 2

**This novel has longer chapters. Vocal's word count restricts me from publishing the full first chapter due to its length. The first part of chapter 1 is also available on my page.**

“Ebbie!” Erick exclaims. He crouches on the ground next to her. “Wot’s wrong? Did ‘e hurt you?”

Ebbie shakes her head, and a hand goes to her head. “I… My magic ran out… Give me a second; I ran the magic equivalent of several miles at a dead sprint.” Then, she whispers: “If anyone asks… Don’t tell them I made a portal myself.” Louder this time, she turns her head to Erick and says: “Tell them I opened a portal using the little phone thing in my pocket, and as we came through the portal, the vampire happened to follow us. Okay? Okay.” She lets out a deep breath and climbs back to her feet.

“Are yew alright now?” He asks.

She nods as her breathing slows down. “I’ll be fine once I rest. Come on, they’re waiting for us in the Guild Hall.”

And with that, Ebbie walks toward the strange dome structure and glowing doors. Erick does not follow her.

“Explain yerself.” He snaps. “Why tew portals? Why did ‘e attack me now? Where ‘re we?”

Ebbie smiles over her shoulder. “This is home, Erick. You, like me, are a caster.”

“Caster…” He tastes the word on his tongue. It feels foreign.

“Casters are humans who can use magic. The beast that attacked us is from the witching realm… I found you in the mortal realm, where you lived until a few minutes ago. We stand in the Realm of the Magi. Our radar experts picked up traces of magic power in you three and a half decades ago, but it took us a long time to pinpoint who the magic belonged to. Casters have been going on missions looking for you for years. You’ve become somewhat of a legend here.

Because you were born with magic, something was bound to find you. I’m glad it was me first and the vampire second. And… As for the two portals, forget there were ever two. I kind of broke the law, so we’ll forget I did that.”

Erick shakes his head. “I must’ve had me some good booze last night…”

“No, no… This isn’t a dream.”

Taking Erick’s hand, Ebbie leads him toward the door. Erick’s eyes dart around the odd sky, with its diluted flashes of red clouds. Behind, he tenses up, seeing a ginormous orange sun, bright enough to provide light but dark enough that Erick can stare at it and feel no pain. It drifts parallel to the horizon instead of perpendicular like a predator circling its prey.

“Wot the hell ‘s that?!” Erick screams.

Ebbie turns, her eyes wide. “Hmm?” Then, she smiles. “Oh, that’s Dayala, our sun.”

“It’s a sun?! Why’s it not burnin’ us?!”

She pauses, her eyes fixed on the dim sun. “It’s not a real sun, Erick… It’s an artificial sun. You can think of the land we stand on as a giant lizard tank; that sun is the UV lamp. It must be massive for it to cover the entirety of our land. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be strong enough to provide everyone a healthy UV dose.”

Erick isn’t comforted. “Why’s it movin’ sideways?! Why’s it orange?!”

Ebbie laughs again, putting her hand to her cherry lips. “Like I said, it’s an artificial sun; it doesn’t obey the same laws that your sun does. The person who designed the sun was named Dayala. What you’re looking at is her legacy. She wanted people to see it, always… As for the color, that has a long scientific explanation that you would need to know a lot more about this realm to understand… You’ll learn… For now, accept that it’s orange; we’re in the ‘warm season.’ In about two years, it will be a deep red color. Three years after that, it will be violet. Three after that, indigo, and so on.

“Now, come on, Erick, I want to introduce you to the family!” Then, making a serious face, she says, “I promise I will explain everything to you in time.” Ebbie grabs his hand and grins, dragging him along. “I am your new mentor, after all!”

They now face the two iron doors. The “cracks” Erick saw earlier are words carved into the iron. Both doors have a picture beneath the writing: six different colored black pillars, with a different color of light glowing behind them. They are positioned in a semi-circle, with a silvery-gray sun rising behind them. The far-left pillar shines yellow, followed by a pillar with an orange shine, then red, then violet, then blue; the last pillar on the far right glows with a green light. “We are shunned by the realm above, so we reside in the realm below,” is written on the left door; carved into the right door are the words: “Though this fight did not start with us, we join it to do what is right for all.”

Ebbie walks to the left door and puts the palm of her hand to the white sun. The sun carving changes color and glows with a violent fiery orange hue before fading away.

Erick puts the palm of his hand to the sun on the right door, but nothing happens.

Erick’s heart hammers; he looks to his left. The door swings open with an ear-splitting groan. In the cavern behind, Erick finds a disappointing amount of light. The tunnel seems cold, dark, and uninviting, curving like a snake into oblivion. Erick looks at Ebbie, who smiles and gives a little giggle.

“That door won’t work for you. It scans the fingerprints of non-magic users. Because you’re a magic user, you’ll use the left door once the Guild Master registers your unique magic signature.”

Erick shakes his head and opens his mouth to question Ebbie, but she is already skipping down the tunnel like a child returning home to find a cake that has been baked for them.

With nowhere else to go and nothing left to do, Erick follows. To his surprise, the cavern within is pleasant and warm, with some moisture clinging to the inside of the stone. Farther up the tunnel, he can pick out the distinct sound of boisterous laughter and chattering voices. Erick stops.

Ebbie notices the lack of footsteps following her and turns around. They stare at each other until Ebbie says: “Don’t get cold feet now, the cavern’s right ahead! Everyone is so excited to meet you!”

Erick glances down at his drab, patchwork clothing and his dirty hands.

“Oh…” She whispers. “Erick… They’re like me. They don’t care how you look. If you give them the same kindness, our family will welcome you with open arms.”

He rubs his dirty hands together to clean them, then decides it would be better to shove them in his pockets.

Ebbie gives him one last warming smile before she heads down the tunnel. Erick follows, dragging his feet across the wet brown rocks. Ahead, flickering lights glisten on the walls. Erick stops again, and this time, Ebbie keeps going.

The noise grows tenfold as, all at once, a single name: “EBBIE!” is shouted out. A hundred voices speak at once, their tones ranging from joy to dismay… until one cutting, icy voice rises above the rest.

“Did you complete your mission, Ebbie?”

The cavern’s roar dies down to a normal conversation level.

“Of course I did, Death!” Ebbie calls. “He’s right… Erick! Come out here!”

He obeys.

Two steps forward, and the most welcome sight greets him. The room within has a high, domed ceiling with a glass opening above his head that reveals the orange sky and rippling red clouds. Hundreds of portrait-style pictures line the walls, a plaque underneath each with a name and a date. Torches of every color of the rainbow weave between the portraits and sit atop the strange tables, casting rainbows on the shimmering cavern floor: reds and blues, lilacs and oranges, yellows and greens. Square tables, round tables, hexagonal tables, crescent-shaped tables, and every other conceivable shape of table cover the shimmering rocky floor; simple wooden chairs are pushed up against the tables, leaving enough space to walk between them. People crowd around every table, some sitting, some standing; some have weapons on the table in front of them, some tankards, some books, some food, and others with random variations or nothing. Young children chase each other around the maze of people and tables, conversing with adults and playing beneath tables.

Every person Erick sees is more unique than the last: some wear fancy suits and dresses, others wear casual t-shirts and shorts, some have glasses, some have crutches, and some, like Erick, have wild, unkempt hair and dirty clothes.

Erick takes in the spectacular cavern with a blank mind and an open mouth, and then someone claps. Another, and another follows it, then cheers and raised fists.

“She found him!” Someone shouts.

“Three decades it took!” “Hey, friend!” “Leave it to Ebbie!”

Panic rises within him, and his breathing quickens.

“Erick!” Ebbie’s voice is in his ear. She grabs his shoulder with a smile. Stumbling along, she leads him to a diamond-shaped table with violet and yellow torchlight flickering. Sitting here is a young man of Asian descent; he has small eyes, a tall but narrow mouth, a broad nose, and ash-gray hair. He dons a long, dark cloak that protrudes with a gnarled hand that holds a silver tankard. A heavy hood covers the left half of his youthful face, and his uncovered brown eye shines through the hood’s shadow with an indifferent look.

The chorus dies down, and Erick’s ears ring with their fervor.

“Erick, this is my little brother, Death! He’s the leader of the Four Horsemen… Death, this is Erick. Play nice with him!”

Erick shifts. Death motions to the seat across from him with no more than a tilt of his hand.

Trembling like a leaf, Erick Mak sits across from the man named Death. “Pleasure, Death, sir…”

The man rolls his one visible eye. “Please, call me Dash.”

Erick looks to Ebbie for help.

“Oh!” Ebbie yelps. “I forgot to tell you! Everyone here has a ‘name,’ — which is the name they were given when they first came to the guild — and a ‘nickname?’ No, that’s not right, it’s like … a ‘title!’ Yeah, that works, a title. His name is Dash Itō; we call him Death because he’s the leader of a witch-hunting group called the Four Horsemen.”

Dash opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by Ebbie.

“Wait… No, you guys got demoted to monster hunters…” Ebbie thinks for a moment, and Dash closes his mouth. “So he’s Death… then there’s Brenan, who’s Pestilence, though we call him Brenan or Brey… And Kuris, who’s Famine… We like to call him K or Fame, or some people combine it and say ‘K-Fame,’ or like, ‘kay, Fame!’ And Marci, War. She doesn’t have a nickname.”

Ebbie grabs Dash’s tankard and takes a long drink. He doesn’t seem put off by this; his one eye is watching Erick. Dash uses this opportunity to speak. “It’s Itō Dash, and if you want to get specific, ‘Death’ is my title, and ‘Dash’ is my nickname.”

Ebbie slams Death’s tankard on the table with a happy sigh. “Oh yeah, that’s right, in Japan, you put your last name first… What is your Japanese name?”

Dash looks up at his “sister” and shakes his head. “Dash is fine, Ebbie.”

“That wasn’t the question!” Ebbie shouts. “I didn’t ask you what you like to be called; I asked what your birth name is!”

“Dash.”

“Dash!” Ebbie shrieks.

Dash takes the polished silver tankard and downs some of it; Ebbie berates him.

Erick looks around the room as eyes are drawn to their noisy table. After realizing who is screaming, a few people roll their eyes and return to their conversations. Some smile and watch.

“Did Widow come back to the guild while I was gone?” Ebbie asks. Her sudden change in tone draws Erick’s attention back.

Dash shakes his head. “Not yet. Still out on a mission.”

Ebbie sighs and flops on the table, her head against the wood and her arms outstretched. Dash pats the back of her head, still watching Erick with his one eye.

“Widow?” Erick asks. “Ti’le or name?”

Dash takes a deep breath before answering: “The Black Widow is a title; the name behind that title is Crimson Kumar.”

Erick conjures an image of a seductive woman in skin-tight leather with a gun under each arm. Her name, too, Crimson… Maybe she has a red whip, long, flaming red hair, that perfect hourglass figure… Erick tugs on his collar, feeling warm.

“’bout how old is tha’ Widow?”

Ebbie sits up like a bullet shot from a gun. “Thirty-one!” Then, she slumps. “Wait, no… Thirty-two? Maybe even older than that… Dash, how old is Crimson going to be?”

“Crimson will be thirty-six later this year.”

“Oh?” Ebbie exclaims with sudden interest. “I didn’t know Widow was quite that old yet! Time’s flown, hasn’t it, Death?”

She's seven years younger. 't wouldn’t be too awkward… If all goes well, maybe she'll use me fer more than a night.

Erick’s cheeks grow red. He is getting used to living here with these… pleasant people.

“So, Erick… You must have all sorts of questions for me… Who casters are, how the groups work, what’s expected of you in the first year, and so on.”

Erick’s wild green eyes dart from face to face. “Where d’yew get the liquor?”

“Ha!” Dash’s hood slips back… and Erick sees three long, nasty scars running from his forehead to his cheek. His eye beneath the scar tissue is blind.

Still smirking, Dash pushes his tankard across the table to Erick. It clatters into his hand with a slosh, dousing the older man’s hand with ale. Even after a slight spill and several swigs from Ebbie and Dash, the tankard remains halfway full.

Social drinkers, eh? Erick looks up to find Ebbie disgruntled. She seems a little put off by Erick’s lack of interest in their new shared home.

Pushing his chair back, Itō Dash rises and pulls his hood tighter over his scars. Death bows low to Ebbie, who nods her head back. “It was a pleasure speaking to you again, Ebbie… However, I think I will use this sudden pause in conversation to take my leave. Brenan is waiting for me to discuss our last mission.”

“Alright, Death! Don’t be shy, come visit me sometime!” Ebbie waves as Dash pockets his hands and shuffles across the Rainbow Cavern. Then, she turns to Erick. “All right, Erick! Before the fun begins, you must be admitted to the doctor’s office!”

Erick chokes on his ale, spitting it on the table. “Wot?”

“Yup! It’s mandatory, so let’s go!” She drags him out of his chair and away from the excitement. Down a damp tunnel, they trek. Doors are built into the stone every fifteen feet. At the end of the tunnel, a winding staircase awaits to take them to the floor below. The steps are slippery from the cavern's moisture but are broad and short. Erick still feels nervous and keeps a hand on the wall to stabilize himself.

Ebbie and Erick follow another tunnel back the way they came and enter another cavern the same size as the Rainbow Cavern.

The ceiling does not arch or dome. It’s about eight feet tall. A square room sits in the middle of the cavern with benches pressed against the flat walls. Plain white torches positioned at equal distances along the walls light the area.

Ebbie and Erick follow the flat wall until they turn the corner. On this side of the square room, there are no benches. A good portion of the wall is taken up by a massive sliding glass door with large, red writing above: “MEDICE HOSPITAL.”

Through this door, they walk into the brightest white room Erick has ever seen. There are beds lining both sides of the hospital, some with curtains open and others with curtains closed; nurses dressed in pink move around the hospital. They speak to a man dressed in white scrubs. He has an olive-colored mousy face, brown eyes, and short blonde hair hanging in tightly coiled ringlets; he is of average height and build and writes things down on his clipboard as the nurses talk to him. In his front chest pocket is a tiny dirty notebook overflowing with extra pages and torn paper.

“Doctor Medice!” Ebbie calls out with her classic over-the-head wave.

The doctor turns, his irritated eyes examining Erick’s dirty clothes with distaste.

“Do you know where Doctor Mendax is?”

The mousy doctor sighs and rolls his eyes. “Probably sitting in her ‘office.’ I know she’s the non-emergency doctor, but she can lend a hand now and again…”

If Ebbie is intimidated by the doctor’s anger, she fails to show it. “Thanks a bunch!” She skips to the back, where two smaller square rooms jut from the stone. Another sliding glass door between the square rooms mirrors the one Ebbie and Erick entered on the other side. In large golden letters above the door, the room on the left has the words: “Doctor Aecus Medice: Emergency Doctor.” The room to the right has similar writing: “Doctor Faith Mendax: Non-Emergency.”

They go to Faith Mendax’s door, where Ebbie knocks in a musical score.

“One second!” A voice calls; the door opens to reveal a very well-put-together girl with a nice suit, round glasses, straightened brown hair, and gentle brown eyes. Her face is round and soft around the edges, like a dinner plate. “Ebbie! Hello!” Then, she peeks over at Erick, who shrinks back. Unlike Doctor Medice, Doctor Mendax regards Erick with pleasantries and happiness in her eyes. “Oh! Ebbie, do you have a trainee?”

“Yes!” Ebbie exclaims. “This is Erick Mak! He needs an introductory examination!”

“Excellent!” Doctor Mendax exclaims. To Erick’s surprise, she steps forward and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “Welcome to our family!” Doctor Mendax releases him. “Follow me.”

Erick is still frozen from the warmth of the good doctor’s arms. Ebbie smiles, grabs his arm, and drags him within.

It’s set up like a counselor’s office, with many comfortable cushions and beautiful decorations. There is a medical table with some drawers underneath and a large screen on wheels.

“Have a seat, Erick.” The doctor instructs.

Erick feels nervous again. He hasn’t been to a doctor in years; he has forgotten how to act at one. He doesn’t relax his arm when the doctor takes his blood pressure, flinches when she checks his ears, and coughs and gags when she checks his throat.

“A deep cleaning would do wonders for your health, Erick…” The doctor says as she grabs a new torture device. “Your ears look clogged up, and your teeth could use work.” The new device she pulls out is one Erick isn’t familiar with: it’s a metal tool shaped like a tiny gun with a liquid cartridge on the back.

“Wot’s that?” Erick asks with a tremble in his tone.

And then, the doctor pulls out a second, identical one. “It’s to check your eyes.” She points the two devices toward Erick’s eyes, and he flinches. “I need you to keep your eyes wide open… This won’t hurt; it will be a light spray and some air, okay?”

Erick sets his jaw.

“Trust me, Erick, it feels funny but doesn’t hurt,” Ebbie exclaims.

The doctor moves the tools toward him, and he forces his eyes to stay open. His fingernails dig into the soft cushions. Then, the doctor pulls the triggers.

Some air blows, and the strange liquid spurts out of the end. It hurts a little, but not as bad as when he blinks his eyes. “Ow!” He yells.

“Nope, nope…” Doctor Mendax sets down her guns and pulls his hands away. “Don’t rub your eyes; it will make things worse.”

“Yew said that wouldn’t hurt!” Erick snaps.

“It doesn’t?” Ebbie shrugs. “My eyes were a little sore but didn’t hurt.”

Erick grumbles.

“Okay… One more test. This one won’t hurt; it’s like an x-ray.” The Doctor smiles.

“Yew said that one wouldn’t hurt!”

The edges of Doctor Mendax’s smile twist. “It’s not supposed to. Sorry if it hurt. Don’t touch your eyes until tomorrow, okay?”

Then, she pulls forward a large screen from behind the table with a camera on one side.

“Wot now?” Erick snaps.

“This will tell us your power level as a caster.” Doctor Mendax explains. “It looks into your soul and finds the color there.” She flips a few switches. “I’m sure you’ll learn more about this tomorrow when Ebbie teaches you.”

Ebbie beams like an excited child.

Some light fires from the camera. Gears whir, and Erick cringes. Then, Doctor Mendax says: “He’s a yellow-level caster.”

“Oh, yay!” Ebbie exclaims. “Teaching him should be easy then!”

Erick scowls.

The screen is dragged back to its position. “See? That didn’t hurt.”

Erick relaxes, letting out a relieved breath… and then, before Erick can react, Doctor Mendax puts something cold and steel to Erick’s neck, and pain explodes through Erick’s throat and stomach; a white light flashes through the office. Erick curses again and again and again, leaping up and holding his neck. In the doctor’s hand is a gun, like the tiny eye guns she used, with a massive needle and more liquid in the back.

Erick screams: “Wot was that fer?!”

Ebbie frowns. “Sorry… If I warned you, you wouldn’t go through with it.”

Doctor Mendax smiles. “All done!”

“Answer me! Wot was that fer?!” Erick’s neck throbs like fire.

The doctor sighs. “It’s bloodwork, but because some people are afraid of needles, I inject quickly, so there’s no fighting involved. I’m a pacifist.”

“Why’s there stuff in it?!”

“Oh, the liquid?” Doctor Mendax looks at the cartridge. “It’s supposed to be a numbing agent, so the needle doesn’t hurt. I wonder if it didn’t fire again…”

Ebbie frowns. “You should get a new bloodwork gun. It didn’t fire when you gave me that shot, either.”

Doctor Mendax nods. “Yeah, I need one. Maybe I’ll ask the Guild Master for better funding; all his money goes to Aecus. I think I deserve some new equipment! What I do is as important as what Aecus does.”

Again, if Ebbie is put off by the doctor’s anger, she doesn’t show it. “Come on, Erick! Some liquor will make all that pain vanish! Let’s head back up to the Rainbow Cavern.”

Erick’s annoyance with Ebbie and the doctor fades after a few tankards of ale and glasses of wine. Time seems infinite, with the sun never fading in brightness and no nighttime to interrupt the day. Some children are taken for a nap, kicking and screaming, while others come in to play.

Erick’s mind buzzes as he and Ebbie make their rounds. Names blur together; he remembers Marci because she wears tiny clothes and punched a hole in a table.

She is a young woman in her early thirties or late twenties, wearing a green triangular polka-dot bra, purple thigh-length shorts, and chain jewelry. While she isn’t skinny in any sense of the word, she has a body that can make even supermodels green with envy. Marci sports some aggressive-looking piercings and tattoos. Her knee-length red hair is tied up in a ponytail on the very top of her head, and it hangs over the back of her chair (which she leans in, feet hooked on the table), nearing the ground. Her vivid green eyes are dulled from rum and vodka.

When Dash comes back into the cavern, hours after first leaving, it’s with the intent to bring Marci to her bed. She wants nothing to do with him and fights against him the whole time.

But something odd happens to her.

When Dash catches her leg after a dangerous kick, her leg goes limp. This makes Marci even angrier, so she punches a hole in the table. A tiny explosion rockets from her fist and splinters rain down on the cavern ground.

Again, Dash runs his hand down the length of her arm, and it, too, goes limp. Marci thrashes, kicking her one leg before Dash repeats his same odd ritual. Once he has Marci completely limp, Dash scoops her in his arms and takes her away. She swears the whole time.

Erick gets up to stop him, for his first assumption is that Dash plans to take advantage of her.

A burly man on his left with a blacksmith’s apron puts a hand on Erick’s arm. “Jus’ leave ‘im. Dash ain’ gon’ hurt ‘er; he wants ‘er to get some sleep. They got a big mission tomorrah.”

Erick sits but focuses on Dash until the younger man disappears down one of the many branching tunnels. Though his mind is dulled by ale, the incident with Dash and Marci brings him out of his stupor enough to ask the burly man: “How’d yew tell wot day it is?”

The burly man lets out a boisterous laugh that startles Erick. “This ‘ere Guild Hall keeps time from the Mortal Realm. Days ‘n hours are the same here as there. We go by Eastern Standard Time.”

“Hmph,” Erick grumbles, taking another drink from his mug.

Ebbie comes stumbling over, giggling. “C’mon, E!” She slurs. “’ts time fer bed!”

He shrugs in response, draining his mug. “I don’t got no bed…”

A young girl on his right speaks. “This guild is five floors deep. Every floor has eight tunnels; every tunnel has eight bedrooms carved into the sides of the rock hallways. Each door has a little piece of paper in a sleeve at the top. The doors with names written on them belong to somebody. The blank ones are spare rooms. All you need to do is pick a room, any spare room, remove the little white piece of paper from the sleeve, write your name on it, and return the paper. Viola! You have a room with a bed!”

Erick blinks at her, trying to follow along.

The girl sighs. “Here… I’ll take you to a room.”

Taking one of Erick’s arms in her own, the girl leads him down the nearest tunnel. Between the wooden doors are posters. A man in a black trench coat and black fedora stands high on a mountainous rise with dark humanoid shapes below him, reaching upward; this poster says: “Ascend to greatness and fame! Join the Magistral Guild!” Another pictures a man with hungry yellow eyes and wild black hair holding a gray-skinned woman's chin and glowing eyes; this poster says: “Save Humanity! Resist Necromancy!” Beside this, a poster of a group of working people wearing bread aprons, fancy dresses, blacksmithing aprons, and so many others hold up what looks like a cartoon drawing of the Magistral Guild Hall; “We need your support! Donate to the Magistral Guild Hall and stop the Necromantrix Witches from home!” The next makes Erick cringe. A girl with gray skin and bright purple eyes holds a tiny child up by the neck; his eyes are rolled back, and his face is a horrid shade of red; “Don’t let this happen to you! Join Magistral and fight the Necromantrix Witches!”

Erick shakes his head and looks instead at the floor. He can’t recall how far they walk or how many stairs they descend; he only remembers the soft touch of the girl guiding him and the many posters they pass.

The girl brings Erick to the first empty bedroom they encounter. Pulling the paper from the gold-encrusted sleeve on the door, she asks: “What’s your name?”

“Erick -hic!- Mak…”

She scrawls his name on the paper with the pen she keeps behind her ear. “You can fix the spelling when you sober up.”

Pushing the door open, she points to the interior of the room.

It’s a quaint room with a large maroon rug in the middle of the floor and a maroon chair tucked in one corner. A nook is carved into the wall to the right of the door. The nook has a series of shelves carved into the left side and a wooden chest of drawers on the right side. To the left of the door is a thick maroon curtain hanging in the center of the wall.

Erick pushes the curtain aside to find a smaller secondary room. Inside this room is a sizeable single-person bed pushed against the far wall and a large square rug in the center. The wall to Erick’s right has two adjoining rooms: one blocked by another curtain and one by a wooden door. He throws the curtain open; a walk-in closet greets him.

He nods, then opens the wooden door.

The room behind is far less exciting: a restroom with a bath pushed up tight against the left wall and a sink and toilet shoved up against the right wall. In this new room, Erick, the tub, the sink, and the toilet take up the entirety of the space.

“I assume you can get yourself to bed on your own?” The girl calls from the door.

Erick grunts in response.

“Alright… A Retrieval Squad member should bring your belongings from your home in the next few days so you can furnish the room. Have a good night, Erick.”

“Wait!” He stumbles through the room.

The girl pauses, leaning in the doorframe with a scowl.

“Wot’s yer name?”

Another pause. “Laurily. My name is Laurily.”

An invisible light shines within her mind; it lights up only half her mind before fading away.

Whot a crazy and vivid dream this’s been.

He lays down on the bed, grinning. He doesn’t want to fall asleep but is so dizzy and tired that he drifts off as soon as his head touches the pillow.