Play Testers Wanted Pt. 22 by Lost Boy,Lost Boy

Iram Unveiled:

Akira took over the controls and slowly eased us down the shallow angle towards the valley’s center. Ten meters in, the car lurched as if it had lost power. My head impacted the windshield, and when I could see again, there was an entire town in front of us. The aircar righted itself as the power cells kicked in. Akira stopped the car and took out the first aid kit from under her seat. I touched my forehead and returned with blood where I had cut it. She made a face as she cleaned the wound and applied a liquid bandage.

“It does not look deep.” She stated. “Not again.”

“Again?” I asked, and she winked.

“Iram was protected by an energy dome that cloaked it from detection. It not only worked from ground level but from the air as well. Satellites just passed right over it. We had to leave our vehicles behind because the Iram shield knocked out all electronics.” She recalled her time there.

“Surfer? Are you okay?” I asked, and she whispered back.

‘I cannot feel them! The collective is gone!’ She was near panicking.

“I am right here. Focus on me, and we will leave here as soon as possible.” I urged her. “Great, now let’s see what is going on here.”

We were at the very edge of the town of Iram. Akira drove forward as we took in the settlement that time had forgotten. The architecture screamed a century old, but the structures appeared sound and well maintained.

“Well, this is the target of the tower’s transmissions. I get it! The spire had to be modified to pierce the barrier without disrupting it.”

“Makes sense to me. We will find out hopefully if your theory is correct or not. We better head for Main street.” Akira suggested as the vehicle moved down Maple boulevard.

People began to come out, and they dressed in a mix of clothing that ranged in style from the previous century to modern t-shirts and jeans. I took in as many details as I could. The combination of cultures was interesting. There were people of European descent, quite a few from the native nation, and folks of color. Some were African American, others Latin perhaps even Spanish. My thoughts went straight to the conquistadors of old. Were their children here?

“How are you doing, Surfer?” I asked.

‘Better. Your thoughts comfort me.’ She said, her voice soft yet resilient.

We reached downtown Iram, and it was the most eclectic I had ever seen. No cars or trucks lined the street. I had seen no vehicles of any kind since we entered the town. The assortment of written languages was astounding. Some of them I recognized. Others defied Surfer and me. I shivered, thinking I was somehow still in the damn game. Then just when I thought things could not get any stranger, a young boy called out.

“Mom! Dad! It is Booker! Why is he in that strange car?” He hollered, and people began to gather around the aircar. Akira let it settle to the ground and switched it off.

“Your fans await.” She said, thinking as I was that they followed me via the holo net. We got out, and I greeted the crowd.

“Hey everyone, glad to be here,” I said, and the cascade of sheer shock passed through them.

“He can talk.” One man exclaimed.

“How can he do that?” A woman asked.

“He looks different.” A teen girl stated. “Look at his eyes. They are clear and focused.”

“What in the hell is going on?” I growled as the boy that had first called my name pointed, and everyone looked beyond me and gasped. “No. This is not happening.” I said, feeling my sanity cracking.

“Booker. Do not turn around. For the love of God, how is this possible?” Akira began to weep. I turned to face the nightmare. It was me, but it was not me either. When Left said Nick had cloned me, I hadn’t believed him. I buried it deep and moved on with my life but now, here was irrefutable proof.

“Clone. It wasn’t a bad dream; Nick fucking cloned me!” My voice cracked but picked up strength as it became a scream at the end. “God damn you, Nick!” I fell to the ground screaming at the thing in front of me. The blank look in its eyes made me feel like I had dodged a bullet. “Damn you!” I screamed, and the other Booker staggered back and collapsed unconscious.

“Was that the Voice?” Someone in the crowd asked.

“Can the other Booker use the Voice?”

“How can a human use the Voice?”

“Clearly,” a female said. “He is far from a pure strain human. Nick’s doing, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” came a deep male response. “We never should have taught Nick.”

“Nick is dead,” I growled without looking back.

“Is he? His life’s work lives on in you.” The woman coolly stated.

“Nick was too cautious for a little thing like death to slow him down.” The man added, and the crowd murmured their agreement.

The other Booker was not getting up. I forced myself to crawl over and see if I had killed him. I thought back to the game and my mastery of Kiai Jitsu. Was it real? I had seen martial artists cry out before they struck a foe, board, or brick. Was this just a more profound manifestation of that? I reached the prone figure that bore my likeness, but it was not my face. There were subtle marks of abnormalities along with the blank stare. His chest was moving but only weak, shallow gasps. The wet rattle as he inhaled made me think I had damaged his lungs when I screamed. His hand gripped mine, and he spoke, perhaps for the first time in his miserable life.

“Don’t weep for me. We will be together soon,” he said. “Don’t let go.”

He squeezed my hand with surprising strength, and everyone looked up when the blast of thunder roared above the town. The air became charged, and the smell of rain filled my nostrils. I watched him struggle to breathe as his life slipped away.

“Finally,” he said when the second resounding boom of thunder signaled his passing.

“I am sorry.”

His fingers remained tight around my hand, and I wondered if I should pry them loose or wait. I gave him his last request and knelt next to him until the world lit up and the lightning fell from the heavens and struck a nearby tree. The clone’s hand dropped to his side, and I wiped away the tears.

“It was a mercy,” the man with the deep voice said, but I had no clear line of sight on him. “He hated his miserable existence.”

“Indeed, brother, this was a blessing and an end to his suffering.” The odd female added.

She must be the hooded figure in the back of the crowd. How can they be so casual about death? I looked back to the corpse on the ground. He did look at peace. Then my brain began to go to work looking at his features and seeing the similarities and more and more differences. I could not help myself. The small truth is that when you look at your reflection in the mirror, you see your features reversed. Now, I saw them as others perceived them.

“Please disperse, and let Booker and his companion see our little town.” The hooded woman urged. “There will be time to speak with him. Answer his questions with love and kindness.”

They returned to shops and their homes. The street was empty, and I could not recall seeing the hooded woman leave. She was simply not there when I looked back.

“I am Batman,” I said under my breath.

“Don’t let her hear you say that. She is Catwoman.” Akira replied with a much-needed smile. Two men arrived with a stretcher, gently lifted the clone onto it, and carried him away. “They will take care of him. Let’s look around and give you time to process.”

“I didn’t believe him.”

Just as Nick had moved Akira’s mind from one body to another, he had cloned me en masse, and now as far as I knew, I was the sole survivor. My emotions shut down to help me keep from screaming. Was another hidden body waiting for Numenor to pop my recorded consciousness into it? Were there other people that the Order cloned to maintain a kind of pseudo immortality? How far did the rabbit hole go? Akira clutched my arm, and that simple physical contact grounded me.

“Take your time, and shout if it helps. It did for me. You aren’t alone.”

Those three words, you aren’t alone, saved me. My arm slipped around Akira’s waist, and I let her guide me. We did a little window shopping, and many of the stores were what I would expect, except some had labels in languages and characters I had never seen before. Where were they getting these products? Were they being shipped in somehow? The more I saw, the more confused I became. The sound of hammering metal caught my attention, and I followed it to the outdoor smithy. I halted in my tracks, seeing the blacksmith. I could not help the thought of a Middle Earth dwarven weaponsmith. He was short, about five feet tall, wide-shouldered, and muscular, almost inhumanly.

“Damn!” Akira gasped.

“Was that for the longsword he is forging or his impeccable pecs?” I asked.

“Seriously?”

Unlike other smiths I had met or seen online, he did not use motorized devices to aid him in his craft. The leaf-shaped blade took form before our eyes. His whole attention was on each hammer blow, but I did catch him humming an unfamiliar tune. We took a seat on the ground, and I found myself humming the song and then vocalizing it as I absorbed it and built on its complexity. Akira watched him intently and chewed her lower lip. Was it the rivulets of sweat running down his back and muscular arms? Was it the rugged good looks and deep green eyes? It was all of it, I guessed.

“Hello, Sinister,” the smith said as he cooled the blade and turned to face us.

“Hello Druin, long time no see.” Left replied.

“Your host is a few steps up from the last one,” Druin laughed.

“Left, the myth, the legend!” He joked. “You are looking good since the last time I saw you, old friend,” Left said, addressing the smith.

“Go to the town square. You may find some answers there. Return around nightfall, and we can toss back a few and talk about old times.” Druin suggested. “The girl is distracting, and I must focus on the sword.”

“You hear that. I am distracting.” Akira exclaimed proudly.

I laughed as we got to our feet and took Druin’s suggestion. We headed for the center of the town. I felt the moisture on my skin long before hearing or seeing the fountain. Akira gasped in surprise and muttered.

“Now it all makes sense.”

“Care to explain,” I asked, and Left was equally vocal at this point.

“Drink. Use me and get some of the water and drink. You won’t be disappointed.” Left practically begged.

The fountain’s base was round with ancient, weathered designs that I could not make out. The reservoir was about four feet in height. An equally worn obelisk at the fountain’s center reminded me of Cleopatra’s Needle sans the hieroglyphs. The water took the form of a ring of jets hidden by the pool’s lip; streams shot upward to the top of the obelisk and trickled back down into the basin. I cupped both my hands and dipped them into the pool. I felt a tingle across my hands, and without warning, Left opened his mouth and drank to his fill. The rush of power hit my system and erased all the emotional and physical fatigue. I still remembered killing the other Booker, but now it felt like months had passed since it happened.

“Akira?”

I turned as she was shedding the last of her clothing, and she hopped into the fountain and bathed in it. She lay on her back, floated, and then released a soul-wrenching sigh of relief. She turned over after a few minutes and lay suspended face down.

“Is she supposed to do that?”

“Why not,” Left snickered. “Go on. You know you want to do it.” He was right. After tasting the water via Left, I wanted to feel it. I looked around, but no one was in the square but us. “Eh.”

I stripped down and joined Akira. The sensation of bathing blew away that of drinking it. I swam through the water doing laps once I realized the pool had a far greater depth than it looked from the street. I dove down as far as I could and saw a glint of metal sticking out of the silt-covered bottom. Was this the answer Druin had meant? I plucked it out and found that the object was a metal bracer. It reminded me of a piece of armor from the Roman era that would protect or even deflect a blade thrust. I swam upwards and found Akira floating ten feet below the surface. Her long dark hair formed an inky cloud above and around her head. She smiled and kicked me in the stomach. I felt the air I had so preciously held in my lungs expel. I inhaled instinctively, but instead of the burning sensation of water flooding my lungs, I could breathe in the fluid. I flipped her off and showed her the bracer I had found. Akira gestured that I should put it on.

‘Put it on me,’ Left urged silently.

What the hell. I turned it sideways and worked it onto my forearm. The metal or alloy was rigid yet flexible enough for it to fit. I held up my arm and watched in shock as the thing produced glowing red-hot metal and closed the gap along the inner side of my arm. As the metal wove and knit together, those alien characters I had seen on the sign floated and swam beneath the artifact’s surface. Had Druin forged this, or did he place it here to be found? Was this a test? I dismissed the questions as Left spoke.

‘That was a surprise. After all this time, it still works.’

‘What did I just put on my… on you?’ I asked.

‘A Duskwalker relic that has lain dormant for millennia. It is as much a part of you as I am.’

‘Why did it seal itself like that?’

‘It recognized the presence of a Duskwalker. It could have been me, but just as likely, it saw potential in you. Consider it a good luck charm.’

‘Maybe now is a good time for a little backstory.’

‘I agree, Duskwalkers, that is what the other races call us; by us, I mean you and me. The name we use is K’Ta’Viiri. It is a real mouthful, but it describes us well enough. It roughly translates to Lords of Essence, and we thrived when the Ghost lines were active and crackled with power.’

‘Hold on, when she mentioned that the house sits on a three-line nexus, you never said a word. Why?’

‘The time of the Ghost lines is long past,’ Left said, his mental voice full of sorrow and ennui. ‘Hey, tell you what, how about we find that girlie with the hood and shag her rotten. That would put a smile on my face.’

‘Fine, but just this once, you understand.’ I said with a grin.

The dream returned, and along with it, the dragon song. I mentally hummed it, and Left burst in to question me about the melody.

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘While you slept and healed, I have been hearing this tune. It took me a bit to figure it out and piece it together. When Akira heard it, she called it the dragon’s song. It dates back to the time of the Ghost Lines,’ I explained to Left.

‘I know. Odd that I cannot hear its call. Am I still being punished?’

‘Let nature run its course,’ I urged.

Akira and I swam to the surface. The worst part was coughing up the water from my lungs. While it did not hurt, it was mightily uncomfortable. We climbed out of the fountain and sat to air dry before dressing again.

“The short version of events is this, Nick patronized an archaeological dig, and we found the original city of Iram. There was a temple with one of these stones in it. The obelisk shields the city from discovery. Nick also found some seriously advanced ancient tech. Let us throw down a few pints once we are dry.”

“Agreed; where is the pub?” I asked, and my voice carried upward to a scantily clad woman standing on her balcony, and she called out.

“Oi, Booker, 2.0, the pub is that away.” She said and pointed. “I will meet you there.”

“Someone is getting laid.” Akira chuckled.

“I suspect I am not the only one,” I said, and her face lit up.

“Ooh, gods, I hope so.” She purred as visions of Druin and her tumbling together filled her thoughts. Akira’s hunger was so intense that her mind became an open book.

“Did Druin know about the bracer?” I asked Left.

“Likely, wherever he settles, secrets seem to collect around him.”

“Does he know I am a Duskwalker?”

“Yeah, he does, but don’t fret; he learned his craft at the feet of one. Druin is much older than he looks.”

“How many of us are out there?”

“Good, you are beginning to accept your new heritage. As for the answer, I have no idea.”

I ran my fingers across the surface of the vambrace and noted the elegant yet simplistic design and intriguing inlay. The runes had submerged once more beneath the alloy’s surface. I flicked it, and the material let out a perfect C sharp. Hmm, what if I sang a matching note.

Akira and I sat cheek to cheek on the top of the stone ring, forming the fountain’s basin. I saw the blend of architecture that crossed centuries and cultures, some of which I recognized and others I did not. I turned my head, and it struck me that something was fundamentally wrong. Eight buildings were facing the town square forming a quasi-circle. Eight streets radiated outward, and they created a spoke design. Yet, I would have sworn that the town was in a square grid when we arrived.

“Optical illusion?” I muttered, and Akira looked at me. “The town ‘square’ is round with the fountain at the center. When we drove up, it was a grid pattern.”

Akira looked around and gasped as if seeing it for the first time. I watched as her eyes seemed to glaze over and her expression of alarm faded. I kept my observations to myself after that. I looked at the obelisk and pondered the level of its influence. Did it merely cloak the town from prying eyes, or did it affect the citizens and the village’s perceptions? I remembered feeling the moisture in the air before reaching the center of the town. I closed my eyes and listened to the falling water behind me. The jets’ ring created a mist that surrounded the fountain and sent it outward into the nearby area with the wind’s help. A new sound reached my ears, and it was rhythmic and musical.

“There is music on the wind,” I said and heard Akira laugh.

“I am dry enough. Let’s go find that music.” Akira urged needlessly, and Left remained silent and brooding.

We dressed, and after a few false starts, we found the correct street. The acoustics of the town center created a deceptive echo, but with some diligence on our part, we located the music store. The exterior was brick and mortar with the swinging sign above the open door. The soft creak of the chains holding the sign played counterpoint to the violin within. While the melody was pleasing to the ear, I did not recognize it. I opened the door and held it for Akira. I followed her into the store and was instantly struck by the alien instruments displayed openly and some under protective glass. There were plenty of mundane pieces though some had slight modifications or claimed to be made by craftsman long dead. A perfect example was the Stradivarius guitar. Centuries separated the two, and only a fool would accept the instrument as anything but a gag gift.

“They play very well, don’t they,” Akira commented. “What do you think?”

I listened for a bit and found myself enchanted by the song and how well they performed it. This person was genuinely gifted, and their mental and physical agility was world-class. They made subtle changes on the fly. Was the violinist making this song up as they went? If so, this person was a genius. The music abruptly ended.

“Damn,” she cursed and stepped out. The girl was diminutive in stature but hardly in her curvaceousness. There I was going straight to checking out her tits and ass.

“You are staring,” Akira reminded me. “Oh damn.”

“Subtle,” I laughed, and so did the girl. “Sorry for staring.”

“Thanks for noticing me,” she replied. “I’m Dawn, by the way.”

“You are blind,” I said, suddenly noticing how she looked in my direction but not at me directly. “Sorry for just blurting that out.”

“No harm, no foul,” Dawn said, smiling. “Though, your voice sounds faintly familiar.”

“She’s got your number Booker,” Akira giggled.

“Not our Booker, obviously,” Dawn frowned. “Poor thing. He is so damn miserable.”

“Tell me about him, please,” I asked, and her features became thoughtful before she spoke again.

“He would visit and listen to me play,” Dawn began. “He would hum his original pieces, and I realized he was gifted. His music made its way through. He could perform complex songs, and his memory was amazing. His limitations diminished him in many ways. It was the chronic headaches and dreams that haunted him.”

“Dreams, what sort of dreams did he have?”

“Here,” Dawn said as she retrieved a stack of large sheets of paper. “While he could not speak, he had a talent for drawing.”

I took the sheets and looked through them. Akira looked over my shoulder and whispered.

“How?”

“We must have shared a connection,” I said, desperately reaching for any solution to make sense of the ever-growing craziness.

When did this insanity begin? The accident when the world shut down for an hour and my dad died next to me. No one had ever explained what had happened or who was responsible. I recovered, but still, there were gaps, and I suspected transfers from one body to another for years. Now I learn that there were multiple copies, and I was the last hold out of one of Nick’s goddamn experiments. I blinked away the tears, the rage, and the frantic grip on reality. I looked again at the images depicting events inside and outside the game. However, I didn’t recognize some of them, and they showed the world during times long before my birth. The apparel the people in the pictures wore ranged from the 1960s to the early eighteenth century.

“What is your opinion of these images?” I asked.

“If my friend is correct, our Booker is quite the artist with a vivid imagination. Of course, Iram isn’t what you’d call your typical small town. Being so close to the Maze and that lot.”

“Maze?”

“Hmm, how to describe it? I’ve never been there myself, but many of my lovers have, and tried to describe it. The universe is a great clockwork machine, and the Maze is a big cog with many teeth and connections.”

“Clear as mud.”

“Yeah. Oh, before I forget. The red leather book behind me might interest you. Take it if it strikes your fancy. It is the collection of Booker’s songs, operas, and pieces he never finished. My apprentice copied down the music, Warren the calligrapher cleaned it up, and Sean hand-bound the book into its current form.”

Akira picked up the book and handed it to me. I opened it and read the music as it played in my head. The songs varied in style and tempo, most of which were delightful.

“Wonderful. The other Booker was truly gifted.”

“Was? I see. The doctors told him he was dying, and he accepted it.”

“He is dead,” I told her, and her expression became serious. “I killed him.”

“No, your presence freed him; of that, I have no doubt.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. Your soul is now complete, and he is at peace. Hopefully, one day soon, you will accept it and rid yourself of your guilt and pain. Be patient.”

I did not bother with details. Whether it was an accident or other excuses, I had ended the life of my clone. God, just thinking about it made me sick.

“I don’t know how to feel.”

“I hear bitterness and sorrow, but I do not hear malice or hatred in your voice,” Dawn said after a long moment. “Dreams. I can hear the echo of water, pain, and confusion. So many voices and all of them yours.” Her hands formed into fists and her face flushed with color, but it was not embarrassment but rage this time. “Damn you, Nick Shaw! When will you give up? You are dead.”

“Care to explain your outburst?” I asked.

I felt the connection. I felt Dawn’s mind brush against mine like Left did when we spoke silently. ‘Let me see Booker,’ her mind asked. Indeed, she was strong enough to waltz in and take what she wanted. ‘I am not a rapist. I am a healer. Let me lance this psychic wound and let you heal.’

‘Go on,’ I relented, and a part of me needed to find out what had happened.

‘This is going to hurt a lot,’ Dawn warned me. It is difficult to express the sensations and events for which the human language has no context. There was pressure in my head. It was as if she cradled my entire life experiences in her hands and pushed them together like a water balloon that refused to pop. ‘Here it comes, and I am sorry.’

The external pressure overwhelmed me, and something broke. My blood turned to ice water, and I shivered uncontrollably. I felt Dawn’s presence as I relived the critical memories she had triggered. I floundered in the chaos of memory, emotion, and unrecognized events. They possessed no linear pattern as my youth and adult life collided. I walked among crumbling towers of stone. The fallen pillars lay like felled titans of old. This city was Iram, but it was not my memory but Nick’s. I had no control over what I remembered or experienced for now.

Akira strode through the abandoned streets of the ancient city. “This way, I can feel moisture,” Akira said. “There must be an oasis or water source of some kind.”

“Take point,” I said, with Nick’s voice echoing in my ears. “If we are to survive, we will need that water. Go, my hound.”

Akira’s face lit when she heard those words. The Hound of Shaw whistled, and the other Silent Shadows joined her and searched the surrounding buildings. I went to what might have been the main temple or perhaps even the palace. There was a psychic influence at work. While Nick appeared clueless, I could feel the mental tug. The moisture struck my dry face, and the waterfall fell upon the obelisk that stood atop a stone plinth in the middle of the artificial pool.

“Come to me,” she called from the bottom of the reservoir.

Nick stripped and dove into the water. It was the same sensation I had experienced swimming through the fountain at the center of the town named after the fabled city. Events continued to unfold as Nick found the gem sticking out of the silt at the bottom of the pool. Where I had found a Duskwalker relic, Nick unearthed an Atlantean treasure. Within the navy blue stone was an Atlantean artificial intelligence. Did Nick steal all of his most extraordinary ideas? Did he invent anything on his own? The more I learned about him, the more I despised him. Nick breached the surface, cupped some of the water into the palm of his hand, and smiled.

“I have a great idea for using this,” Nick said.

I was sleeping in the fluid-filled metal tube. The water supported me as I floated there. I understood now. It was not just any water Nick had used, but he had sourced it from one of the obelisks and repurposed it to clone me. I was his closest living male relative, and the accident had been a godsend for the dying man. Someone close to him had sabotaged his horde of stored blood and DNA samples. A trusted confidant had betrayed him, and he had fallen to plan C, cloning me. Nick’s thoughts betrayed him as he modified my DNA using the template in the tomb of the Hidden Masters. He trusted that those who left behind the code would grant him immortality. But there were complications, with unseen genetic drifts, and after so many attempts, he finally resurrected me.

Nick came to the Midwest, to this Iram, and planted the bracer that denied him. He knew something about its history and hid it where none would or could find it. Nick never meant for me to discover it, and he feared that it would claim me and do something. Nick laughed when I tried to unlock that memory, and I plunged into a new battery of remembrances. Nick had been lurking, watching, stalking me until the right moment. Using my BMI as a backdoor, one of the AI triggered the download of Nick’s last copy from just before he died. Iram would be where he would return to the real world using my body and access to his vast wealth. This time with a better chassis to carry him forward forever. My early life wasn’t a lie; I clung to that truth like a lifeline. Fuck you, Nick; I won’t let you steal my life the way you’ve stolen everything else.

“Shaw protocol six zero nine eight zero,” I said though I did not know why and felt ill.

“No,” Dawn’s mind blazed to life inside of mine. “I cast you out, Nicolas Shaw!”

Something inside of me struggled to take over. Out of the shadows of my consciousness, it crawled, cursed, and hissed like a cornered animal. The misshapen thing looked like Nick but a Nick that had been shattered and put back together poorly. The psychic clone of Nicolas Shaw reminded me of the corpse on the street of Iram.

“I… I can make it work, and I must survive! I will survive, damn you!”

Was this any different than demonic possession? Dawn triggered one memory after another until my experiences drowned out the last vestige of a desperate dead man. I felt the mental snap the moment it began. All those memories were popping like a cascade of pain-filled cysts. I tumbled into the dark with no expectation of surviving. If I died, then so did Nick. I always saw him as a shining light–all the good his technology brought to the world. In the end, Nick was a thief and terrified of death, and I was his get-out-of hell-free card.

The next memory was unfamiliar, but it didn’t belong to Nick or me. I stood in the center of a great stone circle, and inscribed on the floor were lines, celestial symbols, and arcane glyphs. The power welled up from below and filled me to the point of burning out. I fumbled with finger gestures, yet somehow the energy took shape, sped across the distance, and struck the target. While the wood and straw figure burned, my instructor’s voice critiqued my attempt.

“There is no doubt you can channel; another failure like that could kill you. I suggest more of a trickle instead of a flash flood. Try again.”

This time my focus was on control and not destroying the target. I slowed my movements, let the energy flow gently, and set the next target alight with ease. The memory jumped to what felt like hours of practicing various configurations of my digits, all six of them, and the effects they could produce. Body movements followed until, like any other martial art, the two became one smooth flowing action. The last memory was being at the center of the circle with eight other students surrounding me. I was blindfolded, and at the sound of the horn, I defended myself and eventually overwhelmed those around me. I had passed my final test.

What followed was complete absence. It was empty. There was nothing. Stop. You may think you know what nothing is, but you are wrong. You imagine perfect darkness, but darkness is something. You cannot feel anything because there is nothing to feel. It was a pre-big bang, and my universe did not exist yet. I was alone. I was a flawless null. I had lost my name, identity, hell, even Left was gone. I became the breath before I uttered the first syllable of the first word. All I had to do was express it, and my world, my universe, would blaze into existence. I had no lips to speak, but my mind clung to that one word despite my annihilation. It took an eternity to vocalize a single syllable.

“Fuck.”

“Booker! You are alive,” Akira exclaimed as I opened my eyes and water surrounded me.

Akira hovered close as she grabbed me and kicked, propelling us upwards. We broke the surface of the fountain for a second time today. I found speech difficult, and while my mouth worked, nothing came out. My mind was a wreck.

“The Sympath healed you,” Akira said. I must have given her one of my ‘what the hell are you talking about’ looks, so she continued. “Empaths feel what others feel while Sympaths feel for others. Dawn said she ruptured something inside of you that was toxic. That poison nearly killed you. Dawn is still cleaning up the mess you left.”

“Eh?” I managed a confused noise.

“You died. You shat and pissed yourself. I stripped you down and threw you in here. I hope the water might revive you. Are you in there?” She rambled, fearing I would end up like the other Booker. Was I destined to be trapped in my skull?

“Fuck,” I cursed.

“You said that before,” Akira laughed.

“I,” the new word passed my lips. “I.” A statement of being. “Here,” I struggled, and it hurt to push past the mental scar tissue. “Ow.”

“He is in there,” Left declared, sounding hungover. “I am here too, by the way.”

“Cat!” I cried as the hooded woman walked up to the pool and set down clean clothing. Her hood was down, and she smiled at me. “Cat.”

“Bastet,” the female Osirian corrected me. ‘Rest, young man. Reply if you can,’ the Bastet whispered in my mind.

‘I am in here,’ I desperately reached out. The woman made a startled feline noise. I thought softer and repeated. ‘I am alive. Sorry, I did not mean to shout.’

‘Your mind is strong. Rest. I will be close when you are ready,” Qui Wan assured me.

She never shared her name, but a part of me knew instinctively that those sounds made up her identity. Akira helped me to the edge of the fountain. I gripped the edge and pulled myself up. There was little effort to lift my body from the water. I felt so light, as if I had burned away everything weighing me down. My skin seemed to drink in the sunlight. I felt my head move on its own as I closed my eyes. I felt the warmth of the visible spectrum and more.

Akira’s arms held me, her head on my shoulder, and her mind a soothing balm. ‘I love you. I know you can’t hear me, but I am here for you.’

‘I love you too,’ I sent and heard her gasp and then a sigh of relief. ‘I need to recharge.’

‘Take all the time you need,’ Akira replied, her thoughts laser-sharp and controlled.

We sat together, never speaking a word aloud. Instead, we shared images in a wordless exchange of memories and understanding. Flashes of my childhood, the neighborhood, and the house I grew up in before the accident. I saw Akira raised by her grandmother in the temple high atop the side of a mountain. The temple had stood for centuries and was there to this day. Then an unfamiliar memory appeared in a dizzying display of falling and tumbling down the side of a hill. There had been a flash of blue light as if light reflected off a piece of cobalt glass. Then the loss of balance, rolling, crashing into something, and ending on a dusty stone floor. This recollection was not one of my memories, nor did it belong to Akira. So, whose memory was this? I stood up and looked around. Brambles and tall grass shielded the front of the corridor. Egyptian funerary motifs decorated the walls of the tunnel. I had seen images like these, but there were aberrations never displayed in other tombs in this case. Anubis, god, and guardian of the dead, hooded and furtive, stood facing the soul to be judged. Further down was hawk-headed Horus donning a mask with human features. Whoever this was continued down the tunnel flanked on either side with the odd artwork.

‘What is that?’ I thought as a small table rose out of the floor. My body approached the flat top structure and discovered a gaming board. Game pieces clustered over the table’s surface, and each type represented one of the four fundamental elements. There were murals on each of the three walls where the corridor ended. I found patterns within the murals and placed the appropriate game pieces in succession, starting from the center square. The first secret door opened and revealed a narrow passage behind the game board. The memory continued and revealed a corridor whose etched walls and ceiling carried thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of groups of the basic designs, each forming a complete four-piece pattern. It must have taken their most skilled stone cutters to lay down thousand of alternating sets of elemental symbols.

‘Why, and what do they represent?’ I asked myself.

The groups formed a recurring pattern, and a logic emerged in how those groups took shape. These designs were not a random act of decorating the hall. There was rationality to it. The groups formed repeating sequences with air always next to fire and water next to stone. Then I asked myself what else I knew about this pattern with such a succinct design. There was only one thing, a strand of DNA. The hall was nothing less than the map of a specific genetic code. At the end of the hall was a statue. I recognized the subject of carved stone as one of the Anunnaki. What was a Sumerian figure doing in an Egyptian funerary tunnel? These images filled the gap in the blueprint for Duskwalkers and who placed it there.

‘This is where my current body was inspired and perhaps the birth of Nick’s obsession with immortality.’

The memory continued as the view showed me returning to the game board. I removed the pieces and inserted those that matched the mural on their right-hand side. The second secret door opened. Beyond the door, the walls and floor were natural stone with little work from human hands. The floor was smoothed a bit but still had cracks and uneven portions. The tunnel turned and bent its way down to the main hall floor. I must have stepped on something because the hidden door slid shut, locking me in. I continued down, and near the bottom of the ramp, it was clear the purpose of this vaulted chamber was to store the dead. There were dozens of sarcophagi nestled carefully into slots lovingly carved to hold them. Each coffin was black with a death mask of its occupant prominently displayed like the pharaohs of old. The symbols I recognized, and I felt my body stiffen in surprise.

‘The Hidden Masters,’ I whispered in awe. ‘This is the resting place of the secret keepers of the Order.’

It was then that I realized whose memory I had been sharing. It was a residual of Nick Shaw’s early life, his life before Numenor, and when he first took up the mantle of Hidden Master. I watched through his eyes as he explored the tomb. I watched as he plucked an enormous sapphire from a shelf carrying it and other offerings to the dead masters. He held up the teardrop-shaped jewel, a gem covered in dirt, dust, and mud. Nick spat into the palm of his hand where the sapphire lay and tried to clean it. It failed, so he popped it into his mouth to use his saliva to loosen the muck and see the gem and its faceted brilliance. A sudden sound startled him, and he inhaled. I could feel it lodge in his windpipe. I could feel him try and fail to breathe. He tumbled to the ground as his vision blurred and dimmed. It was never clear, but somehow the stone dislodged itself, and he could breathe again. He knelt on the filthy floor gasping for air. In his foolishness, he nearly perished. The memory faded, and we woke from the sharing.

“The exorcism was only partially successful,” I said, fearing there was more of Nick wandering around my skull than I wanted. “That was a DNA strand described on the walls of that first corridor.”

“Yes, it was your DNA,” Akira added. “That is what he wanted you to know–a design left behind by the Anunnaki twenty millennia ago. Nick told me about it after a particularly pleasurable night of lovemaking. He told me about finding the Tomb of the Hidden Masters, the Corridor of Promise, and that damned jewel. He believed he had swallowed it, but he was wrong. It had broken down into its basic components and bonded with him inside his brain. The gem was a massive colony of nanites, the very things that granted him his vast intellect and inspiration for crystal-based technology. Most of the wonders attributed to him belonged to a long-dead race. He took credit for it all.”

“I need to reconnect mind and body, be patient with me.”

“All the time in the world,” Akira said.

I slipped on the clothing the Bastet had left for me. Once clothed, I stepped away from the fountain, took up a beginning position, and began a martial routine. It had become my go-to when I was stressed or needed to work things out in my head. Now, it has become a tool to knit mind and body back together. I was a third of the way through it before realizing it was an unfamiliar form. My hands formed claws, and the elegant footwork had to be kung fu style. Could it be the tiger school?

“Black Dragon,” Akira said. “Nick was one of its most gifted practitioners.”

“Another one to add to my collection. I seem to gather fighting styles while some folks hoard china, paintings, or money. Let me get a feel for it before we move on.”

I didn’t miss the dichotomy of being utterly unfamiliar and intimate with every move it encompassed. I surrendered to the knowledge while I kept an eye out for more of Nick’s influence. To my relief, the memory was just a recollection of the past without a guiding mind to propel it. I paused and performed a breathing technique attached to the primary remembrance. The sudden surge of power matched that of drinking the water from the fountain. Chi energy not only cleared my head but help reunify my body, mind, and spirit. I had heard stories about martial artists claiming the many benefits of Ki or Chi. Some of those assertions appeared to be true. I glanced at Akira and smiled.

“I’m thirsty.”

“Let’s hit the pub and maybe throw some darts if they have any boards,” I suggested.

“Excellent idea,” Akira replied with a genuine smile on her lips.

“After that, I will fuck you until you beg me to stop,” I added with a kiss on her cheek.

“Good, you scared me to death,” She laughed as her eyes crinkled at the corners.

“How do I look?”

“Somewhere between a musketeer and a gunslinger,” Akira chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong. It is a good look for you. All you are missing is the armored duster or long coat and appropriate weapons.”

After a few missteps, we found the pub. Welcome to the Blue Fox. The sign greeted us. It screamed Irish pub all day long. So much dark wood, photos of dart champions, and the regulars gathered around the bar on their stools. Akira got a lot of looks from the male patrons. She ate it up, thrust her tits, and walked up to the counter. I joined her, ordered pints for everyone, and then paused; what passed for currency in this town? Akira pulled out a small purse, plucked out two silver coins, and set them on the bar. She leaned forward and not so subtly pushed her ass out for everyone’s inspection. Akira knew how to work a crowd.

“How long will this last?” She asked when the bartender turned to face us, and it took everything not to gawk at him.

He was a freaking elf, or Fae, as Wraith called them. First an Osirian and now him. What other species will we run into, and what was their point of origin? I smiled and somewhat kept my composure. He was beautiful in the way male models were, and then some. He examined one of the coins and smiled.

“How generous can we be?”

“Very,” The Fae stated with a smile that would melt the coldest of human hearts.

“Let’s be charitable if that is okay,” Akira asked the regulars, and they were acceptable to drink with us.

“Where did you get those?” I asked as I took the stool next to her.

“Iram, there were thousands of them, and he wanted us to be able to use them when the opportunity arose.” Akira danced around using Nick’s name. “I always keep some on me.”

The once scantily clad brunette from the balcony strolled into the pub and sat next to me. Gone was the lingerie; now, the woman wore a KISS t-shirt, ass-hugging jeans, and a mane of hair that rivaled Akira’s in length and beauty. The bartender handed her a pint, and she was surprisingly shy or acting that way. I looked at her, and she lowered her gaze with those violet eyes so dark and piercing in what came off as a submissive display.

“Forgive me,” I said and continued. “I am new here and am not familiar with the social norms. If I do something that offends, it is not intentional.”

“I will keep that in mind.” She said in a sensual voice and yet impossible to isolate her nationality. “I am Serein, by the way.”

“Booker and this is Akira,” I replied, trying to figure out her genetic heritage.

It proved elusive and reminded me of the earth goddess I had encountered inside the game. Serein was like her but not quite as ethereal, but who could compare with computer-generated perfection?

“Oh, you are the guy that saved the other Booker,” Serein stated like I had done a public service. “I treated him after his seizures and helped him recover.”

“Are you a nurse,” I asked, and she shook her head.

“I am a masseuse. I tend those in need with a gentle touch and acupressure,” Serein explained.

I finished my first beer and asked the bartender for a refill. I looked back over at Serein and flinched. Her hair was now a deep scarlet, and gone was the long mane of hair; instead, Serein was now sporting an undercut hairstyle. I looked for further changes but found none.

“Neat trick,” I said, and she smiled. “Are you a shifter?”

“Yes, my people are empathic and react to strong mental needs or urges. You love redheads, and this style seemed appropriate to get your attention,” Seiren purred. “You think about her but crave multiple partners to satisfy your enormous libido.”

“She has got you dead to rights Booker,” Akira laughed. “Just enough hair to hold onto while she impresses you. The Ia’Shandri are rare since the purge of their home dimension. N… someone bought up several isolated islands for them to migrate here and call Earth their home.” Again, she bit back using Nick’s name. “Are you from the Ju’Dari colony?”

“I am,” Seiren declared happily. “I was offered a position here as masseuse and Tak’Dahl, a kind of spiritual healer. Your species does not have an equivalent term to describe it accurately.” She paused and blushed furiously. “You are a naughty girl.”

“Yes, I am,” Akira moaned. “I have had the pleasure of spending a long weekend with one of your folk on a single occasion. I could have died happily after that little sensual jaunt.”

“That good, eh,” I muttered as I exchanged my empty mug for a full pint. “How long have you been working here?”

“In human reckoning, over twenty solar cycles,” Seiren replied after a quick mental calculation. “My people, due to the nature of our home, are less rigid when it comes to the keeping of time. It just isn’t that important to us.”

“You don’t look old enough to be forty-something,” I said as a compliment, and she laughed.

“The Ia’Shandri,” the Fae bartender explained as Seiren wiped her eyes free of tears. “Her people are effectively immortal. Barring the destruction of an area by massive heat or acidic compound, they can regenerate from just a few cells.”

“No shit,” I said, feeling euphoric from the beer. I thought of pounding the living hell out of her when she bit her lower lip and grabbed the bar’s edge with white knuckles. “Sorry, my mind got carried away.”

“Your hunger is stronger than any mundane human I have ever encountered,” Seiren growled. “You aren’t, are you, mundane, I mean.” I held up Left, and he displayed all six digits to her. “Duskwalker,” Seiren whispered.

“Oh boy, girl, you don’t know the half of it,” Akira snorted as she lifted her mug. “This beer is kicking my ass.”

“That is not beer,” the bartender replied. “It is ambrosia. There is a grove of Golden Ambros in the valley’s northern end. I collect its leaves when they are ready and brew the best ambrosia this side of the Tenth Heaven.”

“Friend Booker,” Druin boomed. “I am glad to find you here. This fine lass’ distraction was too strong to ignore any longer.”

The sound of his hand slapping Akira’s ass reverberated across the bar. I chuckled, seeing Akira turn crimson and bite her lip hard to keep from yelping. Druin had her number from the get-go.

“Come on and say it,” I suggested. “No, I’ll say it for you then. Please, sir, may I have another.”

Crack!

“Ooh, that was a good one,” I said. “Did you climax?”

“Uh-huh,” Akira whimpered.

“Damn girl, wait until he sticks it inside. That’ll be like setting off a stick of dynamite.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Get my friend Druin a pint of ambrosia,” I said.

“Now, we’re talking,” Druin said. “Here, lass, have a seat.” Druin lifted Akira off her stool by the waist and planted her on his lap. She let out a soft coo along with a deep guttural oof.

‘Another classic,’ Left said silently.

‘He’s fucking her, isn’t he?’

‘Damn straight, all ten inches buried in her soaked pussy.’

‘Pretty brazen.’

‘Druin is no coward. He knows how attracted Akira became when she saw him at his smithy. Akira is willing, and he can’t resist that kind of offer. Aren’t you jealous?’

‘No, I love her, but the openness works both ways. What kind of selfish monster would I be if I fucked many women and demanded she remains monogamous? That’s insane.’

‘There are many that would argue about property rights. Sadly, those ladies often end up on a slab before they escape someone like that.’

‘I want her to be happy. If she chooses to stay here with Druin, Akira has my blessing. I would miss her, but some things are more important, and selfish love is no love at all. Ooh, she is about to blow; see that expression. Three. Two. One.’

“Oh, God!” Akira howled.

By the look on Druin’s face, the feeling was mutual. She must have milked that one out of him. The Fae bartended reached up and rang a polished brass bell. He gave it three swift pulls of the rope attached to the clapper.

“Drinks are on Druin. House rules. You fuck. You come. You pay,” The Fae grinned as he lowered his hand and took my empty mug. He used a different keg this time. “Here is a sample of last year’s vintage.”

“The Tenth Heaven, I feel a geography lesson is required,” I said, taking a mouthful of the drink and letting it sit in my mouth to take in the subtle flavor.

“I am hardly the Fae to explain such a complex concept,” the bartender stated. “Uriah, is the Dutchman awake, or have you seen him around lately?”

At first glance, the satyr passed as a burly human youth, but I noticed the stubs of horns poking through his curly dark hair after a moment. Uriah shook his head in response to the bartender’s question.

“No, he went into the Maze. He finished that project for the professor. Though he did leave me with enough product to make a few coins while he was gone,” Uriah stated with a friendly smile. “Here, take a look.”

He said and rolled what appeared to be a ball of shimmering glass. I stopped the ball and picked it up. The exterior of the sphere had what seemed to be an oily sheen. The globe’s surface felt squishy, and my fingers sunk into it half an inch or so.

“What is this stuff,” I asked as I played with it like it was clay or play-doh.

“It is the professor’s latest invention, liquid glass, and it took him decades to perfect,” Uriah proudly said.

“Liquid glass,” I stammered. “It is like a whole new state of matter.”

“Cool,” Akira said, eyeing the ball still seated in Druin’s lap. “What is the application besides a child’s toy?”

“Ask the Shifter, and she’ll tell you,” Uriah said.

“Not everyone approves of my kind,” Seiren said, her mood darkening and with it her appearance. “I cannot hide my emotions more than you can conceal your erection.” Her hair was a light eating black, her features hinted at an atavistic nature beneath her usually calm exterior, and even her eyes had taken on a bright green with slits for pupils. “My people’s art, I guess you would call it technology, is amorphous. Our homes, ships, tools, and even teaching devices are mercurial. We are a race of whims with no clear form and no desire to be pinned down to one. As you call it, the liquid glass is a tool for my folk to strengthen our shifting skills. Our children use devices like that to bend it to their will and understand the sensation of different states of being.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” I replied, but Uriah took offense. Like Nick, it seemed that the Professor and the Dutchman had stolen technology from the shifters and claimed it for their own.

“Try it,” Seiren purred, her lips by my ear. I had not seen or heard her move from her seat. Yet, she was behind me and pressed her breasts against my back how I liked it. “You like my tits don’t you,” she growled. “Cup your hands together and let the sphere settle against your skin. Good. Now, pick a new shape for it to take on. Try something simple your first time around.” I closed my eyes, and the first thing that came to mind was a twenty-sided die. I imagined all those triangles locked together, forming the shape. I willed it to change, and nothing happened. “You are trying too hard,” Seiren declared, and her hand touched the back of my neck. “Let me in. Just your surface thoughts, and I will show you how to do it.”

‘I will keep an eye on her,’ Surfer promised, so I let my guard down.

‘So crowded with thoughts, some your own while others are not,’ Seiren’s mind touched mine. I thought she must be using my BMI somehow or perhaps telepathy. ‘Is that the shape you desire? Good. It is different yet uncomplicated. Feel the glass pool in your hands. That is it. It is cold to the touch and forms a flat round disk. Guide it up and envision the triangles forming and connecting.’

“Unn, Druin, it is changing,” Akira gasped in surprise. “It is moving on its own. It looks like me.”

‘Her voice inspired you. Open your eyes and see,’ Seiren urged, and I did. A statuette of Akira stood in the palms of my hands. ‘Make it rotate. Imagine she is standing on a spinning stage. Excellent. Ooh, she does have a nice butt.’

‘You cannot fully appreciate it until you are deep inside of it,’ Left intruded and just had to let her know of his existence. ‘Of course, she had to know. If you do not seal the deal, I will. Do you know how long it has been since I had the pleasure of an Ia’Shandri? No, you do not, because it is all about you. Do not disappoint me, partner.’

‘Who was that?’ Seiren gasped as her arousal spilled into our shared experience.

‘Left, formerly, if you believe the stories, a Hyperborean wizard of great renown or so he claims.’ I joked, and she had heard of him by her emotional reaction. ‘I warn you. He is only in it so he can sodomize you.’

‘And your point,’ Seiren growled playfully.

‘Yes!’ Left roared triumphantly. ‘Nice sculpture.’ I opened my eyes, and there was a new creation in the palm of my hand. It depicted me standing with Seiren kneeling before me, giving me head, but that was not all. Akira was held aloft by me with her legs dangling over my shoulders and my face firmly planted between her legs.

‘I give you passing marks for such an accurate and pleasing creation,’ Seiren purred.

“I like the way you think friend Booker,” Druin rumbled. “I wish to explore more deeply the pleasure the Akira offers. Come on girl, you are driving me crazy.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Akira promised as she stood and waited for Druin to make himself presentable. I felt Seiren’s attention fade and lock onto Druin. The sight of his exposed cock became irresistible to her.

“Go, I wish to explore Iram a bit; I will catch up later,” I said.

“My place is not far,” Seiren stated as the three of them went to her masseuse studio instead of her apartment. “My neighbors do not like how loud I get. I soundproofed my studio for discretion and the peace and quiet of others. Even then, I have the tiles replaced regularly. It is worth the expense. There is one condition, though, I can only be with one of you at a time. Two such hungry and powerful minds would cause me great distress. I hope you understand.”

Akira gave me a look that screamed divided obligations, one side to me and the other to herself.

“I still have some healing to do.”

“Only if you are sure,” she said as Druin’s arm slipped around her waist. His other already held Seiren close.

I finished my pint of ambrosia as Left fumed silently.

‘What the hell was that all about?’

‘She has her own life to live. Things are changing, and if Akira wishes to leave, I will grant her that; it is the least I can do.’

‘Wow, you do love her enough to lose her.’

‘Having a stranglehold on someone isn’t healthy. My mom found out the hard way. I’ve seen what obsession does to people with my own eyes. I guess that is part of why I won’t settle down.’

‘Oh, Booker, I didn’t know.’

Left’s thoughts triggered the memory of the night my mom’s boyfriend tried to kill her. Suppose I hadn’t shown up and grabbed the baseball bat. With an effort of will, I shut it down and focused on the bar and its patrons.

‘I need to be alone right now. Well, you know what I mean.’

‘Listen, I’ll go into sleep mode for a bit. Get your head back in the game and take all the time you need.’

‘Thanks, Left.’

I left the tavern somewhere between tipsy and shitfaced. Nothing would have surprised me less than to end up near the middle of town. Once more, I felt the moisture from the fountain and the pillar at its center. I walked around the pool and pondered its ability to mask the town and fool its citizens. Was this a natural property, or perhaps it had been constructed and served a purpose?

Left remained silent, and I didn’t interrupt his quiet mood just yet. I felt a subtle psychic tug and followed it. The park stood on the easternmost corner of Iram. There was plenty of room to practice martial skills and deal with my recuperation. I stripped out of my shirt, folded it neatly, and placed it on the grass. I would start with Black Dragon and see if I felt any remnant of Nick in the back of my mind.

“Here goes nothing.”

I knew the moves this time, and nothing stood between me and the motions. My muscle memory was perfect as I felt my Chi intensify the further I got into the form. When I neared the end of the series, my body felt like it crackled with power.

“Come on, are you in there? If you are, I permit you to show yourself.”

The closing gestures came and went when my body launched into a new yet familiar sword style. I snatched a fallen stick and used it in place of a weapon. Was the Chi energy flowing through me that granted the faux sword an afterimage as it cut the air? I felt a rush of joy and picked up speed. The stick whistled as I seamlessly shifted from one style to the next. I combined several sequences from lightsaber forms and the others I knew into a new and formidable collection. I imagined foes surrounding me, and just like a kid with a flashlight pretending to be a Jedi, I cut down the phantom enemies with clinical precision.

“It is okay to feel. Let it out,” I said to myself.

My tears blinded me as the damn burst. The stick flew from my grasp as I dropped to my knees and wailed. The words were meaningless but helped purge the last of my anger, fear, and hopelessness as my fists pounded the damp Earth and mashed down the grass. I used my shirt to dry my eyes and wipe my mouth to remove the vomit.

“I need a new shirt. A new life. Hell, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Do nothing, be nothing, for the universe is patient,” she said. “A wise friend of mine told me that once.”

“Asa Khai, Dosu Khai, ushan gri savanti,” I replied. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“It is the language of the K’Ta’Viiri, the Duskwalkers. I have kept it safe.”

I looked to see the Bastet that had given me clothing standing nearby. She was crying, but her eyes were bright, and I realized she was happy, not sad or upset.

“I have gotten the shirt you lent me dirty,” I said.

“It is nothing water and soap cannot remedy. I have been watching you. If it is permitted, I brought a picnic basket and a blanket. Call me old-fashioned, but would you share a meal with me?”

“Over there, I think, this is a little nasty right here.”

I took the blanket and unfolded it before spreading it beneath a sleeping cherry tree, so it must be autumn in Iram and the perfect weather for an outdoor snack. Qui Wan uncorked a bottle and poured its contents into two silver goblets.

“Did you see anything unusual?” I asked. “When I was playing hero with my mighty stick.”

“You mean the streaks behind it as it sliced the air? No, nothing.”

“I thought I was hallucinating or just deep in my imagination. There must be something to this Chi thing, after all.”

“You… I mean, it is firmly believed that the earliest martial artists tapped into the Earth’s Chi to replace what they lost when the dragon lines went to sleep. It wasn’t as powerful, but it served its purpose.”

“Is Nick gone?”

“Nick Shaw is dead and buried. If you are referring to your head,” Qui said and touched my thoughts. “Let me in, deeper… deeper. Nothing, you will recover.”

“Are all Osirians telepathic?” I asked, and Qui Wan nearly dropped her goblet. “Was it something I said?”

“Yes. Déjà vu, someone dear to me, once asked me that question. I miss him so much.”

“The ones we love never truly die as long as we remember them. Hey, I got you.” I said as I pulled her into my arms. “Shh, it will be okay.”

Qui’s body shook as she wept; this time, she was upset. Something cold touched my chest, and what felt like a pressure wave erupted outwards, and the sound of glass breaking echoed in my ears. Qui Wan’s lips found mine, and nothing else mattered. She handed me her cup, and I held one in each hand as she sat in my lap while my back rested against the tree trunk. Her hunger was overwhelming, like a woman in the desert that found her oasis in me. Qui’s hands cupped my face as the kiss deepened. I felt her reluctance when she broke the kiss.

“That was one hell of a kiss Qui,” I said.

“Wait, I never told you my name.”

“When I came out of the pool and your mind touched mine, your name popped into my head.” I looked down and saw something glittering on my chest and belly. “What the hell is that?”

“It broke.”

“Didn’t you feel it?” I asked as I set the cups down carefully.

Qui kissed me again, driving out any more questions only to be replaced by a ravenous hunger. My hands roamed over her back and down to her ass and tail… tail? I stroked the length of it and Qui nearly became unstuck. Was it an erogenous zone for her? I cupped her ass cheeks and massaged them as she loosened her robe and freed her breasts which she pressed against my chest.

“A’sanag du sai… do you remember me?”

The vision I had received when looking at the wooden sign resurfaced. A woman was watching the man drive the post into the ground. Qui was that woman.

“There was a man and the signpost on the outskirts of Iram. You were there watching him. This was before the arrival of the stone and the pool. I saw the sign in the mansion’s museum and had a vision triggered by the nexus.”

“Kakatul no’vemtir… the dragon awakens.”

“I know. The Ghost Lines are stirring.”

“And so are you,” Qui said as her fingers wrapped around my erection. During the vision, she loosened my pants and gained access to my cock. “Later, I will do anything you want, but now… Unn you are much bigger than last time.”

My length slid between her labia and penetrated deep. Qui renewed the kiss as she rode me. She was a gifted lover and squeezed me as her hips lifted and relaxed on the way down. I wasn’t in much of a position but to sit there and let Qui have her way with me. Poor me. I broke the kiss, bent my head, and suckled her tit. Her words haunted me, but I ignored them for now. My hands returned to her cheeks and massaged them until Left announced his presence.

“Ow, something bit me.”

“Hello Love,” Left said.

“Sinister, I should have remembered.” Following Left’s lead, I lightly bit Qui’s nipple. “You always were a tits and ass man…” Qui said and stopped before saying my name. Why?

“Say my name.”

“When the time is right, there is no rush. If I get on my hands and knees, will you fuck me?”

“Let’s make some noise.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” Left said in triumph.

Qui took up her position with her breasts pressed against the grass and her ass as high up as she could lift it. I knelt behind her, gripped her tail, lifted it, and slid my entire length into her pussy. As I pounded her, Left gave her tail the occasional tug, which seemed to get her going.

“Come for me, you dirty little slut.”

“Yes, Master,” Qui groaned. “Coming!”

Her pussy clamped down tight as her back arched, and Qui’s head rose as she wailed. I ground against her and watched her asshole wink at me. Temptation rose in me, but I hardly knew her, though clearly, she appeared to know me from somewhere. Had one of my clones encountered her?

“Come on; I haven’t drained your balls yet,” Qui said.

I began moving again, and with each thrust, Qui let out a sound or colorful curse. She had initially come off so prim and proper, yet she was begging for my cock and willing to do anything for it.

“Ooh, you got harder when I said anything. Mmm, do you want to violate me? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”

My thumb brushed her asshole, and she pushed against my hand. My digit slipped past her ring of muscle. Qui begged me to do it, and to show her willingness, she pulled her cheeks apart and whimpered. I pulled out, pressed the tip against her, and slowly but relentlessly pushed forward.

“Almost there, Unn, just a little more,” Qui said. She breathed a sigh of relief when the head popped inside her. It was Qui that finished it by pushing her hips backward. “It is where it belongs. Now you selfish son of a bitch, fuck me until I scream.”

I did as she wished. My fingers wrapped around her tail, and I began moving and using it for leverage. Each time my balls slapped her clit Qui praised my cock. Our separate hunger fed the other until I felt the urge to climax.

“I am going to cum.”

“Give it to me.”

We both hollered as we came together. The next kiss left me breathless. The two of us recovered quickly and continued. Qui gripped the tree trunk as I pounded her from behind when Akira arrived.

“I knew it, didn’t I tell you. Only Booker can make a woman make that kind of noise.”

“Ooh, she looks close to coming again,” Seiren said. “A prosperous sign indeed.”

“Friend Booker’s performance is intimidating.”

I snatched a glance sideways to see the trio of Druin, Seiren, and Akira watching us from the foot of the hill. All three looked sweaty and a bit exhausted. It seems like Akira gave as good as she got. I was oddly proud of her. I returned my full attention to the pounding I was giving Qui.

“I love an audience,” Qui said just before her body shook in climax. “Give it to me; let them see you fill my pussy.”

“You asked for it,” I said as I snatched the Osirian off her feet, faced the trio, and prepared to fuck Qui standing up. Akira rushed up, held my cock for me and winked.

“You are all lined up.” I lowered Qui until a few inches slid into her, and then as I dropped her I thrust my hips. Luckily I managed to catch her before she fell. The sound Qui made was epic. “Ooh, he’s giving her his A-game,” Akira said.

“His hunger is overwhelming,” Seiren whimpered. “Is he always that thick?”

“Yep. Oops, it looks like a crowd is about to arrive. Better hurry, or you’ll have this all over the net.”

I didn’t care. Qui Wan’s hunger blinded me to everything but emptying my balls inside her. With a quick adjustment of my grip, I held Qui aloft and thrust as hard and fast as possible. Her cries grew not only louder but higher and higher in pitch. It wasn’t until I was right on the edge that I realized our minds had linked. We were feeding the other our desire, and as I lost control and climaxed, so did Qui. Our collective cry shook the tree and caused the cherry blossoms to fall. The sweat we had worked up caused the blooms to cling to our skin and hair. Panting and near exhaustion, I glanced up to a tree fully in flower.

“When did that happen?”

“Shortly after your cock invaded my ass, I think. Perhaps a bit later, but recently. Mmm, my ass and pussy are satisfied, for now.”

I set her on her feet and reluctantly withdrew. As the crowd approached, I had enough time to get pants on. Qui basked in her pleasure and ignored her nakedness.

“Did our lovemaking do this?”

“As you said, the Ghost Lines are awakening,” Qui replied.

“Our proximity to the tree did this?”

“A good an answer as any,” Qui said. “We can clean up at my place. It isn’t far from here.”

Qui collected her clothes, and there sparkling on the ground between the earthbound petals were glittering particles of glass or crystal. Now that my head was clear, I remembered the sensation of something cold touching my chest and the burst of energy afterward. Qui grabbed my hand and pulled me forward, leaving Akira with Druin and Seiren. I was sure she’d be able to hold her own and then some.

“I will try to explain and connect the dots you might not have realized were important at the time. A hot shower and cold beer are waiting.”

I found her tail and bare ass quite inviting as we walked along the path. Qui kept the pace slow, so I had time to admire her backside.

“I work for Numenor as a technical advisor. Nick initially hired me, and Kat kept me on after his demise. I, along with others, created the BMI. AI are fine for most things, but even they have their limitations. I wrote the final code that allowed the BMI to function safely and efficiently. They tested the alpha and beta versions on death row inmates. Those that didn’t go batshit crazy were scanned, probed, and monitored to see why they endured while others didn’t. Doctors autopsied the dead to see what parts of the brain were damaged. I won’t bore you with the details, but it was a matter of finding the right amount of power input to maintain the connection without overwhelming the cells and inflicting long-term damage.”

“You discovered the sweet spot.”

“That is one way of putting it; damn, you have me soaked all over again. Must stay on task. It is my job to monitor any unusual events inside the game. The AI collective monitors players for signs of fatigue, drugs, or anything else that might do irreparable damage.”

“Thus the time limit for players to remain in the game.”

“Exactly. You might recall an event that happened to you when you faced multiple versions of yourself. I wrote that code just for you so we could put things to rest once and for all.”

“Yeah, what a head trip that ended up being.”

“Indeed. Those weren’t multiple AI pretending to be you; those were the remaining clones meeting one last time. We terminated their life signs after that event. You had to be there for reasons that will become clear in the next day or two, a week at the most.”

“There can be only one,” I said in my best Christopher Lambert voice.

“You and your damn impersonations,” Left said, surprising Qui and me.

“You are still pissy, I see.”

“Less so after the shagging you gave Qui here. I haven’t tugged on the tail of so fine an Osirian in ages.”

“I will take that as a compliment. The bath awaits, and I am sure you have questions.”

We washed off the sweat and funk before entering the enormous stone bath. Something happened, and Qui kept quiet about it, and I suspected she wanted me to uncover the significance on my own. I let her words sink in as I repeatedly replayed the scene in my head.

“Did they receive the same treatment I did?”

“Yes, each was given an IV with a gene therapy to aid regeneration and fortify their cellular structure. Most had severe genetic drifts while one managed to escape and take up residence here.”

“I was the only one to have a positive reaction.”

Qui only nodded, and I tried to visualize a circle of tanks holding us in a dream-like state. My mind latched onto the opening scene from the original Alien movie with Sigourney Weaver, John Hurt, and Ian Holm. The cryo-couches were so immaculate and gleaming in the low light. So many lives were interconnected and fragile. Interconnected, the word stuck out, but I didn’t know why. As far as I knew, I was the sole survivor, and I would be grateful for that and remind myself when things took a turn for the worst.

“I am grateful, and that is enough.”

“Humble to the end,” Qui said. “Doesn’t it bother you that your woman spends time with Druin and Seiren?”

“She isn’t my woman. Akira is my friend. We happen to have certain benefits.”

“Monogamy isn’t in your wheelhouse?”

“No, I doubt I could settle down with one woman. Perhaps it is my wandering nature.”

“Well spoken. Do you love Akira?”

“Absolutely, I would do anything if she asked.”

“How do you feel about me, Booker?” It felt strange when she said my name. For some reason, I expected her to use something else.

“I am fond of you, yet there is something deeper and profound. I am not sure I am expressing myself very well.”

“Like a stone falling in a still pool,” Qui said as she tossed a smooth white rock into the tub.

I was back on Tython, looking down at the water next to the Je’Daii temple. For a long moment, I could do nothing but stand there and exist, the sound of the insects, a whippoorwill, and the loud double clack of the Shishi Odoshi bamboo water fountain. The second sharp report snapped me back to the present. My head swiveled to see the bamboo tube filling from a bamboo pipe where water trickled from it into the tip with its angled cut surface.

“I find the Asian culture quite soothing and thought-provoking.”

“Am I a man dreaming he is a dragon or a dragon dreaming he is a man. I think it is time for me to go. May I trouble you for company another day?”

“My door is always open to you… Booker.”

Qui clad me in Osirian scarlet and gold, and this clothing wasn’t civilian garb but the attire of a wandering monk. I suspected the colors represented a particular Osirian clan or family. A few minutes later, I was wandering around the streets of Iram. My gaze was fixed on the brick sidewalk when I noticed the cobblestone alley ahead. Curiosity took over, and I peeked and found it utterly normal. And yet I wanted to see what was beyond my line of sight at the end. So, I entered the alleyway, and everything looked mundane at first. The odd thing was the T-shaped opening at the far end, and the pull drew me down the right-hand side. There was more alley to explore and, this time, a four-way intersection. I went with my gut and went to the right again. The passage continued, and I followed the psychic tug each time I reached a choice. The alley eventually widened, and I exited it to a sunlit park.

“What the actual fuck?” I cursed, seeing the sun hanging directly overhead. “It was getting near sunset, so how can the sun just shift around like this?” I asked aloud, and Left began laughing aloud. “What is so damn funny?”

“Welcome to the Maze,” Left chuckled.

“The Maze,” I said and walked around exploring the park. That’s right; the satyr had mentioned the Maze at the bar. The Dutchman was here somewhere, but where was here?

Four structures stood taller than the tree line. The closest was a dark stone tower, which Left said stood near the Maze’s center. The other three had a spiritual aspect to them. One was a Japanese prayer gate, another was a stone circle akin to Stone Henge, and the last was an intricately carved Totem Pole.

“Those are the anchor points,” Left explained. “Those spiritual icons affix the three corners of the Maze. The tower is new to me.”

“You have been here before,” I said, and he spoke of his visit here millennia ago.

“Long before the Egyptians built the pyramids, the Maze stood nearly empty. I foolishly explored this place and left. If I had been wiser, I would have laid claim to it and the vast power it contains. We all make mistakes.” Left said, and I could feel his remorse.

“Who built this place? Hell, what is this place,” I asked, and I felt Left’s mental shrug.

“The best guess I ever heard is that this is a demi-plane attached to the Earth via those structures. I think it was the Anunnaki,” Left offered. “Hey, since we are here, let’s check out the market.”

“Why not.”

It wasn’t hard navigating from the park to the central market. One look, and I swore I was back in the game. There were so many near and non-human races it made me, for the Nth time, question my sanity and whether or not this was a game setting. Left assured me that what I was seeing was real. The Maze’s citizens and visitors blended without any apparent prejudice or conflict. Once I adjusted to the strangeness, the open-air market reminded me of something you’d see in Europe or the Middle East. Dozens of stalls with anything from food to tech to gems and jewelry. As I spoke with merchants and customers alike, I learned the Maze bordered a hundred parallel Earths and what travelers called free-floating dimensions.

“It’s him,” a uniformed human said as he approached me.

“Come with us,” his female partner added. “Please.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong. I am only looking around. Your hair is green.”

“Oh crap, not again,” the male security officer cursed.

“Shut. Up.” His partner growled.

“I am not belittling you. Green is cool.”

“Green means go,” the male office laughed.

“Huh?”

“Ignore him,” the female officer said.

They led me to the tall, dark stone tower looming above the Maze. Near the entrance to the structure was a pair of double doors that opened as we approached. An elevator propelled by glowing blue energy rose to the summit silently and without a sense of movement.

“It has inertial dampners. It keeps things smooth,” the woman explained. “You are here. The twins will see you alone. Follow the hall to the red door.”

As quickly as I had met her, the doors closed, and I was alone in an executive-level corridor. Thin dark pedestals appeared every ten feet on either side of the hall, and objets d’art from a hundred worlds or alien dimensions were hovering above them. The scarlet door loomed ahead. If I were under arrest, I wouldn’t be on my own. Who were these twins? My thoughts raced as I leisurely approached the end of the hallway.

“Only one way to find out.”

I perambulated slowly down the path admiring the beautiful and grotesque relics, and tried to match them with the beings I had seen in the market. The red door opened without assistance, and the room beyond reminded me of the Collector from the Marvel side of the game. The rarest objects crafted from the most valuable substances decorated the aerie that looked out over the Maze.

“I think it is him,” a thin, reedy voice said.

“I remember him,” another soft voice added.

I saw the two scarecrow-thin figures standing on opposite sides of a catwalk that ringed the chamber’s upper level. The twins were nearly identical with their coal-black eyes, narrow skulls, and long-beaked noses. They wore matching black suits with crimson trim and neckties the color of blood.

“Thank you for the invitation.”

“Brother, he welcomes us,” one of the twins said and smiled.

“Indeed he does,” the other added.

“We are honored,” they said in one voice. “The Booker stands before us. How may we serve you?”

“Serve?” I said when my stomach rumbled.

“Freak!”

“Gear!”

A man and a woman rushed into the chamber via a hidden sliding door. The man was six and a half feet tall, heavily muscled, and moved with speed and grace despite his stocky frame. The woman’s feet never seemed to touch the floor as she danced in and spun to face one of the twins. She was six feet tall, clad in a black, silver, and red camouflage uniform and odd footwear. Her boots were flexible and sturdy, offering plenty of protection and maneuverability by their design.

“Food for our esteemed guest,” one of the twins ordered.

“Break out the best wine for his consumption,” the other dictated.

“Holy fucking shit, it’s Booker!” The man cursed.

“No wonder they are in such a state,” the woman said.

A round stainless steel table rose from the floor on hydraulic legs, and a matching chair joined the table next to it. I sat and the chair adjusted to my body as I settled into it. The brothers never moved, and neither did their unblinking gaze leave me.

“Honored guest Booker,” one said. “After your meal, would you do us the honor of exhibiting your combat skill with a sword, please.”

There was something odd in how the word please rolled off his tongue. I got the distinct impression they didn’t ask for things very often, if ever.

“Absolutely. I’d be honored to entertain you.”

Then they began chattering in a language I didn’t understand, yet their meaning was still evident. The brothers were fans of mine, and even out here in the Maze, I had followers.

“Booker, how did you reach the Maze?”

“It is a long story, but if it wouldn’t bore you,” I began, and I felt their desire as much as I heard their pleas to continue. “Well, it began with the first attempt upon my life. Someone called a Black Decade on me. That is when… oh, you know what it means.”

“We do. Continue,” one of the brothers said, his tone losing warmth.

“I foiled their attempt and decided to follow a hunch. Someone hacked the Star Wars side of the game. Part of the game played on the homeworld of the Rakata left a clue for me to follow. The coordinates of a real-world location. I traveled from the Numenor facility to Oklahoma City, where the second attempt occurred. Luckily my bodyguard was with me, and we fought off two assassins. Which leaves eight more attempts on my life left.”

“No, it does not. There are but seven now.”

“Well, that is a relief. It is funny, just like in any RPG or war game; the further you go, the more challenging the enemies become. Life is never dull.”

Freak and Gear brought a hovering cart laden with meats, cheeses, fruit, and other assorted food. The woman provided several bottles of liquor to choose from, and one of them caught my eye.

“I remember these characters,” I said as I reached out and lifted one of the dark glass bottles up. “I’ll give this a try.”

“Romgarian Ale, very rare and potent,” one of the twins said.

“I’ll sip it.”

As I ate, Freak, the girl, stood close and refilled my glass when I asked. I stole glances of her beautiful, if feral, features when I could. Her yellow sclera and bright amber pupils only heightened her animalistic nature. The twins silently observed from above as I spoke to Freak to help pass the time.

“Does your hair turn green too?”

“You met Marina, one of our guards. Ha, she treated her hair with a product that had taken off within the Maze. Instead of a traditional hair dye, the compound reacts to certain neural chemical transmitters and alters the color depending upon her mood. It can range from red when angry, blue when happy or tranquil, and green when aroused sexually.”

“Green means go; that is what the other guard meant.”

“Yes, it is a common enough remark lately,” Freak said as she refilled my glass. As she bent over I noticed two things, first, her ample cleavage, and second, the tattoo on her upper arm.

“Nordic tattoo,” I commented. “It is a Valknut, is it not?”

“Yes. The intertwined triangles signify that my soul will be carried to Valhalla when I fall in an honorable battle.”

“No way,” I said as my mind began to connect the dots. “I meant no disrespect. It is. I just made a link. Freak. Gear. I know. I remember. Freki, Geri, Huginn, and Muninn, where is the All-Father where is Odin?” The wolves and ravens served the one-eyed God of Norse mythology.

“I told you he was clever,” Huginn laughed.

“I remember,” Muninn chuckled. “How is your feast, Booker?”

“Delicious,” I replied. “The ale is wonderful. Where does it come from?”

“One of the many dimensions the Maze borders,” Geri replied. “I found it during one of our excursions. My sister and I chased down someone that owed quite a sum to the Raven Brothers and collected it. During the pursuit, we came across the ruins of a temple to Sarr and Quinn. They are the twin gods of the Romgarian faith. We felt it was an auspicious omen. We looted the temple, and among the cache of weapons and armor, Freki found the wine cellar.”

“That is not all,” Freki continued the story. “While loading the bottles into our vehicle, I found a secret door. The room beyond belonged to a scholar. We gave the books, scrolls, and stone tablets to the twins. I claimed as my portion of the loot a map. Over the last century, I have finally managed to find someone to decipher the characters. If the translation is correct, it leads to the last resting place of one of the Solar Titans.”

‘Bullshit,’ Left cursed in my thoughts.

“The wizard yet lives,” Muninn said.

“The Duskwalker survived,” Huginn added.

“Hello, fellas,” Left spoke aloud.

“The bracer,” Freki said as she pointed.

“Hush Freki, you talk too much,” Geri growled.

The sound wasn’t entirely human and hit that range between barely audible and deep into the subsonic. So far down, you felt it in your bones. It left a dull ache that only alcohol and sex can cure adequately. I grabbed the second and only remaining bottle of Romgarian Ale and slid my arm around Freki’s waist.

“Now-Now. Booker. We have an agreement. Bring him the weapon.” The twins said in their single voice.

Geri left but quickly returned with a rosewood box, bound in gold, with an iridium catch and strange runes carved into the edges and corners. Freki leaned forward and cleared the table of dishes and utensils, then Geri pushed the box across the table for me to open, and his eyes widened in anticipation. No matter how good I was in the game, I was hardly an expert on the occult. The real-world counterpart had no obligation to make sense to me. I reluctantly let go of Freki, and she frowned.

“We will face each other in the bedroom, that I promise,” Freki whispered.

“I will hold you to your vow, she-wolf,” I replied, and Freki growled contentedly.

“Finally, after all these long years,” Geri said. “Will it accept you?”

Geri removed one of his fingerless gloves and opened his hand. His withered palm appeared recently splashed with acid or burned with fire. Geri’s answer shocked me when I asked him how long it had been. For decades he had suffered from the curse of attempting to wield whatever was inside the box. Left urged me to continue, his curiosity overwhelming his caution.

‘Any weapon that can lay that curse must be worth the attempt.’

I thumbed the catch, clutched the corners, and with a long exhalation, lifted the lid. The diamond-bladed long sword lay nestled on a bed of navy silk. The stunning clear gemstone embedded on the crossguard flickered and twinkled from an inner light source. A dark leather wrap protected the grip and looked newly attached, but a sense of great age radiated from the weapon. The sword’s strange black alloy had a pool of amethyst at the blade’s center.

‘Nightshade,’ Left whispered in my thoughts. ‘Extremely toxic to the touch, and wounds made by this weapon are as deadly as its edge, a twofold threat.’

I used Left to lift the sword from the box. The weapon produced a single tone that rang in the air as a church bell struck at midnight. I held it close and looked at the slender inscriptions that ran along both sides of the blade. The puddle of purple liquid flowed through the length like violet mercury seeking the lowest point of the weapon. The craftsmanship was that of a master with its balance and how it felt in my hand. I stepped back and gave the sword some tentative swings to see how the liquid reacted. The amethyst fluid raced the tip as the blade cut the air and settled along the lower cutting edge as I held it parallel to the floor.

“Such an elegant weapon just to show off my skills?”

“When you entered the Maze, we sensed the presence of a Duskwalker,” Muninn began.

“The one you call Left is not unknown to us. The sword was a test of his purity, purity of purpose,” Huginn added.

“Who is my opponent?”

“Opponents, three to be precise,” Huginn said.

“Your audience awaits,” Muninn declared with a gesture.