Marbletown.

[River]

Marbletown
By Taylor King


Every movement was reflected a million times in the glass sheets and shards glittering in the long rectangular room. Nothing was left unnoticed in those glass pieces; they had seen worlds of others come and go during their long stay in life, and yet they still shown so brightly, as if they had just been made and cleaned to perfection. The room was white all around, the ceiling dotted with millions of little hooks to which strings were attached, strings that held long slivers of shimmering glass shards and sheets. One wall at the very end of the room was entirely mirror, a strange distraction to the already strange design of the room.

Those who were unlucky enough to find themselves trapped in such a room would wonder Why? Where am I? Who did this? How did I get here? Then again, not everyone had the same train of thought. Some chose to ask the questions How do I get out? What is the best course of action? How do I preserve my strength to fulfill the task?

There were a select few who had indeed traversed the journey of getting out, but most had died, rotting away until no remainder of them could even be detected. The secret to getting out was unknown; the individuals were chosen very carefully, a delicate cerebration made with extraordinary care. Not just anyone was chosen at any given time – not until the very remains of the previous person were gone from even memory was a new person chosen.

So came the existence of the girl.

She was a solemn, muted individual who was almost always placid, as if she had no sound, like a letter typed up on a typewriter. It was there, it existed, but it did not speak, it did not matter, not to the mainstream; perhaps a few people appreciated the presence of such a girl, but those appreciators were few and far between. Her name was Emily. Her appearance took such a different turn from her inward self. Quiet, hushed little inside-Emily went up against the bright-haired, bright-eyed shell, who looked as if she could take on the world. In the room, everything was different, including the clothes she wore. A simple white dress, tattered and worn out, yet her baggy pants still kept her legs hidden away from the world. No shoes, though, but it wasn’t as if she needed them; the room had no atmosphere. It was neither cold nor warm, comfortable and completely unbearable, static and monotone. Brushing back the orange and red hair many had deemed ‘’scene’’ much to her disdain, her ice-blue eyes took in the scene before her with clarity and painful attention to detail.

A million pairs of her own eyes stared back at her with the same dull, clueless expression. Emily stayed where she was for a moment, eyes wandering aimless about, taking in the appearance of the strange room she had found herself in when she woke. How did I get here? She asked herself, but no answer could be found within the reaches of her mind. She could hardly wrap her mind around even the mere concept of the room itself, let alone the answer to how she had arrived there.

Then it caught her eye.

The mirror at the very end of the room, out of place, whole, the one complete object in a room of shattered pieces of broken products once beautiful. Tenderly she stepped toward it, avoiding the pieces of sharp-edged glass that scattered randomly on the floor. As she drew closer to it, Emily was disappointed; she had expected it to be magical in some way, but all she saw was the reflection of herself, unchanged, ugly.

Ugly.

She rolled the word over in her mind multiple times, finding that it fit her well in her opinion. One pale hand lifted slowly to land against the glass, her palm flattening on the cool surface, and she rejoiced. Finally, something felt, so not everything was as static as the disturbing air around her. It was then that the full severity of the situation hit her, and her hands slowly clenched into fists, little balls of destructive fury. Raising, raising, and then plummeting toward the glass like wrecking balls. The glass didn’t give, and it infuriated her; Emily raised her hands again, pounding on the surface of the mirror wall until finally it gave a loud shuddering CRACK!

The wall was falling in on itself, toward her, over her, like a giant creature preparing for the kill. She ran back, scared, the voice inside of her head screaming for help, yet never did a sound leave her mouth. Emily closed her eyes, hands covering her ears as if some sonic boom were racing toward her, but to her surprise no sound except the clattering clink of glass breaking sounded throughout the room. For a moment she was still, unmoving as if she had frozen in place. Then, slowly, timidly, she raised herself and stood, eyes widening as they saw what the mirror wall had hidden away.

The wall was gone. Instead, a large square space replaced it. Through the space a few leaves blew, reddened and yellowed, gliding on a breeze chilly enough to promise winter. Tall trees, nearly leafless and bare, stood like giants in the foreground. The grass was of the strangest color of green, one of the most beautiful colors she had ever seen. Emily gaped openly at the scene, a picture straight out of a fantasy book, almost denying that this was real, that it was all a dream and that the room of mirrors and this entire world was a lie.

She carefully made her way forward, ignoring the bits of glass driving into her feet, or the slices and cuts they made – she was too caught up in the entire situation to notice those small details. It was an orange glow that shown brightly in the nighttime, something akin to the glow that always sat above towns in her own world, and through that small bit of recognition came a stabbing sadness; she didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be trapped in a world that was foreign to her. Emily began to move forward, slowly at first like a timid rabbit, but once she saw that nothing pounced upon her she relaxed. Her pace picked up and soon she was over the grass, under a pair of towering old trees that dropped their limbs low enough to where the fern-like leaves reached even the ground with their tips. A thin trail of blood from her cut feet shown that she had been there, that she had escaped the room and left its confines. For once, her eyes narrowed slightly and she looked like her old self again, calm and placid. She looked upon the glow of the town with a strange fondness, like someone remembering their home town in a picture.

It was then that Emily looked upon the town of Marble.














































Chapter One
Fireflies.


She had fallen down the hill. After the realization that she was actually there, actually trapped in a world not her own, her legs had given out and she had fainted momentarily. She had come to her senses surrounded by tall, soft grass and buzzing insects glowing like a million tiny suns. Emily immediately recognized them as fireflies, surprised to see how similar this world and her own were. Was it a dream? It had to be. There was just no way she could have been dumped into a different world that no one had ever known about. Sitting up, Emily began to notice just how many fireflies there were – hundreds of them, fluttering about through the meadow she had fallen into, weaving in and out of the ferns that dotted the grassy landscape randomly. Her vibrant blue eyes drank the sight in, marveling at the beauty of it all. There was one difference between this land and her own; this world was far more beautiful than the one she had grown up in.

She stood and ran her fingers through her orange and red hair, gaining her bearings. It was then that she noticed the sound, a wafting vibrating tone on the breeze like some beast growling deep and low. Upon looking around she found that she was alone, and a quizzical expression landed itself on her face. Where had the sound come from, then? She shook her head a little, her eyes and features wary and stiff as she moved through the tall grass on pained feet, wincing now and then as a piece of short grass stabbed into one of the cuts on her feet. Her plan was a simple one; get to the town, confront them and make them tell her what had happened to her.

It had to work. They had to know how she got there, didn’t they?

It didn’t take her long to cross the expanse of meadowland. As the meadow ended, the same fine grass that she had first encountered spread itself out again, only to end shortly after it had began to give way to what looked like hard marble cobblestones. Anxious to get to the town, Emily broke out into a run, feet pounding against the ground in a desperate attempt to move her body faster. Once her feet hit the cold stone she came to a dead halt. A beast rounded a corner and came growling in her direction, slowly, like a lion stalking its prey. It looked like a canine of some sort, four legs and all, only this beast had four eyes, two on each side of its face, and a strangely long muzzle filled with teeth that looked sharp enough to cut through anything. Long legs adorned its body, with thick paws that spread out and were tipped with curved black claws. Emily’s eyes widened with fear and she stepped back, but then froze to the spot; no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t force herself to move any more. The beast closed in, snapping and snarling, and then it was upon her.

She fell backwards and slammed into the ground, unable to support the added weight of the dog-beast. The creature sank its teeth into her shoulder and a rippling wave of white-hot pain shot through her entire body. It tore her flesh, jerking its head from side to side in a feral way that terrified Emily. Through a drive to stop the pain and a instinct to fight back, she brought her hand up and gripped the beast’s throat, finding its windpipe and grabbing it hard enough to damage any normal windpipe. The dog-beast let up on its grip and eventually released her, but Emily knew better than to release the beast. Instead she pushed herself upward, sending a jolt of pain up her side, and pushed the dog-beast back onto its side. Snarling and in a rage, the beast struggled in her grasp. Emily groped around her for anything, a sharp edged rock or something to deal damage, and to her horror she found nothing. So she did the only thing she could in that situation.

She slapped the beast hard, and it emitted a surprised yelp and stopped struggling so hard. “No!” she yelled, as if it were no more than a common puppy being trained. The cry must have reached farther than she had intended, for she heard voices then. They grew louder and more vivid as her hands closed on the throat of the dog-beast again, and hands were upon her, all around her, dragging her back. Finally she was able to look around without fear of the dog-beast attacking. Blood soaked the stone floor, soaked her shoulder and side, her hands, feet. Blackness enveloped her, and she fainted once more.

When she woke, she was laying in a bed in a brightly lit room. The white light pained her eyes, but she couldn’t find the will to close them, not without figuring out where she was first. As her vision cleared, she saw it was a room made of the same material the cobblestone ground had been made from; black marble stone. It was eerie in a way, the darkness of the room as a whole. The bed was of white fabric like cotton. She threw back the covers of the bed, seeing that her bloody clothes had been replaced by a white gown made of the same material as the bed fabric. The gown wasn’t very elaborate – a simple slip over gown that reached down to her knees and cut off without any design at all. There was one nightstand in the room, and a desk made of what Emily would have thought was cherry wood back in her world. The nightstand held a cup of water and an oil lamp that wasn’t burning. The light coming from above looked a lot like the lights she’d find in office buildings and schools, but she didn’t care to look into it.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” she called in a gravelly voice, walking slowly to the door. Each step pained her, from the cuts on her feet and the fresh wound burning in her shoulder. She reached out with the arm attached to her un-injured shoulder, catching the golden doorknob and opening the door which, she saw, was cherry wood as well; it seemed that these people had a strange affliction with cherry wood and marble, but she didn’t mind. It seemed nice, a great change from the wood she had known in her world, places all decorated with different materials and ever changing. It was too much to deal with.

“Ah, finally rejoining the world of the living, eh? Jolly good then!” The voice made her heart thump startlingly and as she jumped she heard another hearty laugh. Whirling to face the other, she saw it was an old man as round as Earth itself; he had on strange attire, the kind she would have thought to be worn in old English times. The big man wore what looked like a dark blue tux and top hat, with a monocle covering his left eye. That was the strange part, though; the monocle was stained glass, an array of blue and green and yellow and red. It dazzled her, and the robust man seemed to notice, for he grinned and seemed to sport the trinket with pride. Emily looked quizzically at the stranger for a moment before opening her mouth to speak. However, as soon as she gathered breathe to speak with, she was cut off; another more feminine voice broke the awkward silence hanging thickly in the atmosphere. “Oh Paxton you old devil, you likely scared her to death!” It was a little old woman, with her snow white hair pulled up in a bun on her head. Around her neck hung many necklaces, all of which had the strangest charms on them; a cross submerging in a pit of fire, a little book locked closed, millions of little keys and bobbles of all sorts. For a moment Emily wondered how the old woman supported so many trinkets, but she cleared the thought away. “Deary, are you all right? Feelin’ a bit better?” The old woman seemed to Emily like the kind of woman who just looked for something to take care of. That reminded her of her grandmother, who would take in baby animals that had been stranded and nurse them back to health, or take in a wife after a husband had gotten too violent. Taking pity on the old one, Emily smiled and nodded. “I do feel better, thank you.” Even though her shoulder was throbbing with hot pain, she felt like bothering the old girl would be too much.

“Now, uhm.. I must ask a question. Where am I? How did.. how did I get here?” Emily questioned them in a voice desperate for an answer. For a moment the two old folk in front of her didn’t make any noise, but a smile broke out on the big man, Paxton’s face and Emily relaxed. “You’re in the Blackwater Clinic, marm! Best darn clinic in the entire land, wot wot!” He laughed jovially, patting his stomach and turning to the old woman. “Well m’lady Moira, I must be off. The café is calling to this ol’ chap!” Without so much as another word he waddled off, and Emily was thankful for that. She didn’t know if she could stand being around him much longer; it was one thing being around people at all, but the boisterous ones were almost too much for her to handle. Turning to the old woman, Emily winced slightly and pretended to be in pain, more pain than she was actually in. She wanted back in the sanctity of her own room, even though the room itself was still so foreign to her.

She moved from the hallway back into her room, over to the bed where she sat down. As expected, the old lady Moira followed suit, worrying and nagging at this and that. “You all right, young’n? I can get some medicine for you if you really need it.” Her voice was rugged and worn, as if she had been speaking for more years then her body seemed to want to. Judging by the appearance of the old one, the wrinkles creating millions of tiny crevices in her skin and the crows’ feet near her eyes, Emily guessed that that was just the case. “No no, I’m fine, thank you. Where am I? I know that I’m at the clinic but.. where is the clinic? What is this place, and why am I here?” Emily’s own voice was worried and strained, as if she were holding back the urge to scream questions out. She desperately wanted answers, she wanted to get home, back to her friends and family and a world that was so familiar to her.

Moira looked puzzled, but she didn’t hesitate in giving an answer. “Marbletown. You’re in Marbletown, in the Hyberbius province of Acerbas. Did you bump your head or something, child? You should know where you live, or ain’t you from around here?” It was then that Moira stepped back, wondering and watching Emily warily, as if she were a snake poised to strike.

Suddenly they were alone no more.

A tall, lanky woman stood in the doorway, peering down at the two of them with eyes that held no color; they were simply white all around, and Emily wondered if she was blind. The eyes narrowed, and the woman stalked closer to her in a way that reminded Emily of a praying mantis edging closer to the prey. Emily drew back, afraid, her steps tense and unsure. Trembling a bit, she managed to utter one question in a croaking whisper: “Who are you?” At this the white-eyed woman drew back with a shrieking hiss, the black cloak she was wearing flaring out to make her appear bigger than she was, and Emily screamed in terror. Moira seemed unaffected by it, unaffected by anything. As Emily watched, the old white-eyed woman’s movements were echoed in the movements of Moira, as if Moira was nothing but a pawn, a puppet on a string. Was she? The white-eyed one seemed to know what Emily was thinking, and she grinned widely to reveal a mouthful of yellowed teeth filed to points, as if confirming Emily’s suspicions that all Moira was, was a marionette on a string. Emily stood then, hands balled up into fists as she faced the weird woman-creature bravely and stupidly in some ways. “Did you bring me here? Get me out! GET ME OUT NOW!”

Immediately she realized the mistake she had made in saying such things, for the woman screamed a devilish caterwaul and was closing in on her in a blur. A snarling noise sounded out in the room, a lanky hand with long, awkward fingers grabbing hold of Emily’s injured shoulder and digging in nails untrimmed and long. Although Emily was terrified by this beastly woman, Emily couldn’t take her eyes of off her. White flashes of pain and agony blinded Emily momentarily; the witch’s fingernails and strong grip on her injured shoulder were almost too much to bear. A tear rolled down the left side of her face and she cried out, a foreign sound of anger, pain and bewilderment, like a frightened animal caught in a trap. As Emily watched the witch, she began to notice small details changing in the witch’s features. Color suddenly showed vividly in the witch’s eyes, and Moira dropped to the floor near them in a crumpled heap. The witch’s eyes were blue, the same vivid blue of Emily’s own eyes. A shuddering breath hit Emily’s face, but instead of smelling of death and feeling like fire, as Emily had expected, it felt cool and smelled of apple trees and cinnamon. The voice that came from between those jagged teeth, however, was far from welcoming and warm; it hit her like ice, sending chills up and down her spine. Emily shut her eyes tight, shaking in agony and fear in the woman-creature’s grasp. “Eeemillyy.. I am.. all that is.. and all that isn’t. I am the beginning.. and the end, light and darkness.. cruelty, and generosity.. ” The creature snapped at her face, the vicious teeth snapping shut only inches from her face. “I am the Creationist..” A cackle, like a thousand screaming cats, and the weight pressing against her was suddenly gone. Emily stood trembling in terror as the witch wound around her like a snake constricting its prey, whispering into her ear, “Three suns will plummet to the Earth. The moon will crack open, and from Luna’s great form will fall a river of silver to replenish the land. ” A pause from the witch, and Emily tried to move her arms, but it failed inevitably. The strain of the witch wrapped around her like a boa was too much to overcome. “This will only come to pass if God himself falls at the hands of mortal birth. From the mountain crest of Inkwrath you will find him slumbering; angered by the arrival he will attack, and it is then that you must strike the crystal brain of God.” The witch’s voice rasped into a whisper, and the blackness that was the witch began to deteriorate until the wicked being was nothing more than a memory, a wisp of black smoke left hanging in the air. Freed of this devil, Emily bolted for the door, an acid feeling welling up in her stomach and her vision becoming dizzy and distorted. The girl fought the faint feeling threatening to take her once more into blackness, the will to get out and free herself from this terrible world growing ever stronger.

Stumbling on a rug edge, Emily fell to the ground, turning herself so she would land on her good shoulder. She didn’t try to get up. Instead she lay there, thinking, not able to believe what was happening to her. This strange world, strange creatures, the Creationist.. what did it all mean? Why her? Was it magic? The thought repulsed her, and she sighed heavily in frustration. Moira had been nothing more than a pawn for the Creationist, which led Emily to wonder what would happen to Moira now that the witch had shown herself. Was it something that happened often? Who else did the Creationist have control over in this unfamiliar town?

Emily heard footsteps then, and she sat up quickly, rising to her feet with a wince. She placed her hand on her shoulder, feeling it throb painfully under her touch. She removed the hand, turning down the hallway and peeking around a corner. There was a group of men, all fat and well dressed, like the old men who ran political debates in the old times. They all turned into a different room, and Emily releasing the air she had been holding unknowingly.

Shuffling back to her room cautiously, she peered around the edge of the door frame before going inside. There lay Moira, seemingly broken and battered as she lay there on the cold floor. No one else was in the room, however, and that fact relieved her enough to where she entered the room once more. It smelled of cleanliness and of the old Creationist’s cinnamon and sugar breathe. A chill shot down her spine as she remembered the previous happenings, and it wasn’t until then that she began to recall the words that the old woman had told her. Falling suns, a river of life-giving silver, killing God? What in the world was she even talking about? To Emily God was a figment of fable and story, a simple make-believe character made up to put some ease into the minds of the idiotic. Most people feared death, so it was unlikely that they would be any warmer to the fact that their existence merely stopped; so Heaven and God did the job of filling in the blanks that even science couldn’t explain.

Emily shook her head, grabbing the cup of water from the nightstand and gulping down its contents. Next she found her clothes stashed away, cleaned, in a drawer. She changed carefully, not disturbing the bandages that were wrapped around her shoulder. Looking almost disdainfully at the puppet Moira, Emily could only throw a blanket over her body before heading to the door. She couldn’t stay in the clinic, not after the Creationist and the awkward body of Moira lying motionless in the floor.

She was no savior, had no intentions to become one. She was only a girl, a teenager, she wasn’t about to save an entire society of beings that she had no ties with. Such a task was reserved for heroes and people who wanted to be noticed. She was not one of those people.

She walked calmly through the halls of the clinic, marveling silently at the array of potted flowers of vivid colors and the strangeness of the place as a whole. She had no time to stop and gaze at the objects decorating the walls, knowing that she could easily be pinned to the murder of Moira. Covering up her body in a blanket was a mistake, she realized, but she hadn’t the time to go back and fix it. There were a pair of double doors up ahead of her, cherry wood of course, with golden handles shaped like the out-reaching paws of some animal. Casting a wary glance around to see if anyone was watching her, she reached for the handle, pushed down and opened to doors. A fresh wave of cool air hit her face as she stepped out of the clinic, surprised to see that it was nighttime. Billions of stars glittered like brilliant diamonds against the sky above. The sky itself was beautiful; swirls of soft red, orange, pink and violet shot across the sky behind the stars. Emily’s bright blue eyes drank the sight in with much appreciation to the sheer beauty of the night here; everything in this world was so much better than anything she had seen in her own world. The thought made her brows furrow, and she wondered if this really was a different world, a world apart from her own entirely.

She heard voices off to her right, mumbling in idle conversation. Tensing, she began walking left, her eyes set on the shining marble ground below. It was so strange to her. You’d think that such shiny marble flooring would only be found in high status buildings, not covering the outside of the buildings at all. It was pleasant, though. No trash littered the ground, and the cool, smooth surface of the marble ground was a pleasant feeling against her cut-up feet. Another breeze picked up, blowing her tattered white dress back. If it hadn’t been for her pants, Emily might have gotten cold, but instead all the breeze did was sooth her burning shoulder. The pain was ebbing slowly, but at that time it was still all too noticeable. She hadn’t seen any other person out and about, save for the ones she had heard talking to each other. That thought was strangely comforting to her; she didn’t like people much. Emily was always the one to prefer solitude and silence, instead of companionship and socialization.

A giant clang rang out through the city, causing Emily to shrink back and look around fearfully. For a moment nothing happened, then the clang came again, and again – seven clangs in all before silence took the night once more. A fresh wave of pain washed over her head as a headache developed, and instead of wincing she simply grunted in annoyance and kept walking. The buildings around her were old-looking and Victorian in a way. Most of them had many steps leading up to a roofed porch, held up by circular pillars with intricate designs chiseled into the stone. The strangest thing was that everything was made of marble; the steps, the ground, everything. Of course the windows were still glass, and cherry wood was another dominate building tool, but nearly everything else was made of marble. The consistency and beauty of it all soothed her. There were light posts set in a row up and down the middle of the buildings. Instead of a road between the buildings, like in her world, there was a line of light posts, a few benches, and two water fountains. For some reason, the lack of cars really did delight her.

Snapping out of her daze, she noticed that she was alone no more. A few people strode about idly, some giving her odd looks, others seeming not to notice her at all. The most of them were dressed in attire suiting old England, like billowy dresses and suits with top hats. Emily felt out of place in her tattered dress and pants, messy bright hair and no shoes at all. She looked around for a place to hide and get away from the gazes of others, and eventually her eyes landed on the ideal place; a library, large and towering. She ducked into the doorway and glanced around. No one so far, thankfully. She made her way further into the library, enjoying the rush of fresh scents cascading to her nose like a gentle waterfall. The smell of books and ink filled the air, a pleasant change from the aesthetic smell of the outside. Finding a table full of books and scrolls of all things, she sat down, looking around anxiously. Emily looked at the books for a moment, noticing the strange way they were bound and the thickness of their covers and contents even. No book was less than two hundred pages, she was sure. Dragging a giant book toward her from the middle of the table caused an avalanche of text to come down toward her, revealing another being on the other side of the table. They both jumped, looking startled that another living thing was near one another. For a moment neither of them moved, and it was Emily who finally spoke first. “H-hi.”


For a moment the other didn’t respond, simply stared as if frightened by the sudden appearance of another living being in his presence. Finally, he seemed to snap out of his dazed state and return to reality ( or at least, the reality that was the world Emily had dropped in to). The boy nodded, bangs bouncing slightly as he did so. “Hello.” The voice was silent, quiet and seemingly reserved. Emily liked that – for once, someone in this town wasn’t boisterous and loud. The girl immediately realized that if help were to come, it would be from this boy.

“I.. I don’t mean to bother you, but I need your help.. badly.” She hated admitting things like that – she hated having to ask someone else for anything. Others depended on her, not the other way around. Still, the boy looked inviting and clever.

“What is it that you need, exactly?”

“This will sound crazy but I have no idea. I don’t know how I got here or why, and I just want to go home.”

The boy looked disbelieving of her, suspicious in a way. He inhaled and held the breath for a moment, exhaling in a soft sigh before replying to her. “I’m not quite sure what you mean. Did you come from another town or.. what?” His voice betrayed his curiosity, and Emily seized the opportunity to catch his attention.

“I came from another world. I don’t know how I came to be here, why I’m here or anything. I don’t belong here. I’ve been attacked twice already and I can’t take it.” Emily’s voice took a strained tone at the end of her sentence, as if she were holding back a sob or two. The boy seemed to be taken aback by this, shuffling out of his chair and toward a stack of thick, dusty old books with noted urgency. He flipped through the books, turning pages with practiced delicacy and expertise. It was clear to Emily that this boy lived among books, and for a slight moment she wondered if he might be the owner of the giant library. The thought passed shortly after it had emerged, as Emily was much more concentrated around the idea of returning home. She snapped to attention as the boy turned back to her, a great book in his arms. The book was placed upon the table, the boy having to shove other books off of the table to even fit the giant text on it. “This book has many legends of this world written inside of it. It’s clear to us in this world that there are many worlds, not just our own – I suppose that idea must seem foolish to you. Understandable. It has been said that there would be an arrival of a mortal from worlds otherwise unreachable, come to slaughter the God of this world and set free its inhabitants. I suppose you want me to believe that this mortal is you?” The boy lowered his eyes to Emily, a dubious stare fixed on his face. Emily’s face was red with embarrassment, and rage as well, angry that this boy would dare call her a liar and embarrassed that he knew so much that she didn’t.

“I’m telling you the truth! I have no reason to lie to you. I don’t even know you!” Her voice was once more strained and angry, her eyes fiery as she stood up from the table. The silence around her seemed to be screaming, suddenly, telling her to get out, that he wouldn’t help her. She stayed, defiant of the voices in her head yelling at her to flee.

“I’m Mikal, and you know me now. We’ll get to the bottom of this, somehow. Lies or not, I always enjoy a great story. Best not disappoint me with an unimaginative story, though, else it wouldn’t end well for either of us.” His voice betrayed no tone of threatening proportion, and Emily relaxed a bit. This Mikal fellow seemed almost friendly. He flipped to a certain page in his book and pointed to a chapter written in what appeared to be blue ink. “Sazael’s prophecy. I suggest you read it, if you haven’t. I believe you’ll find it interesting, should you be the mortal sent here.” As she watched Mikal move about the room, finding parchment and other books that he brought to the table, Emily decided that she liked this boy. He helped her without making her feel totally dependant – she liked that simply because she hated relying on someone else.

Emily drew the book closer to her, staring down at it with wonder and apparent interest. It had a picture, sketched in black ink, depicting a man cloaked in black. It reminded her all too well of the Creationist witch, who had attacked her earlier in the Blackwater Clinic. A shiver curled up her spine at the memory, but she didn’t let it distract her. She let her finger trace over the words scrawled on the page, reading them with interest. They read

“In the time of Ancients it was predicted that a prophet would surface and spread his tellings throughout the entirety of the known world. So rose Sazael from the darkness, a savior and a prophet – he predicted what was to become the most controversial prophecy for many years to come. His prophecy was this:

A great rain of blue fire will set the town of marble ablaze. From the ashes will rise the beasts of torment, and only with the shattered cross will these creatures decay. From the chapel of seventeen the mortal-born will triumph and free the world from the grip of God. The three suns will fall; one will jump outward and send an array of color through the dark sky. The second sun will be swallowed up in the frozen blackness. The third will crash into Luna and cause her to shatter, and from the breast of Luna will a silver river flow. From this river of flowing silver new life will spring, and all evil will fall and perish.

It is said to be that the town spoken of in the prophecy is undoubtedly Marbletown, being the only ‘town of marble’ in existence. This prophecy reigned over the land for many years, until the death of Sazael. After his death, most of the disciples teaching his prophecy chose to go into hiding. The prophecy of Sazael dwindled out completely, all but disappearing from the world. His books and scrolls still remain, possibly the only real proof that Sazael ever existed at all. One thing is for certain, however.

Though the prophet is dead, the life of the prophecy itself still remains.

- Denna Cartell, Recorder.”

For a moment all she could do was sit there, her mouth forming a thin line of disbelief as she stared at the words. There was no way she was the mortal sent to destroy God, surely not. “Mikal, I can’t be.. this savior you all are waiting for.” She spoke in a near whisper, her eyes never leaving the book in front of her. She heard the boy shuffle over and look at the book, sliding it out of Emily’s grip and closing it to place back on the shelf.

“Waiting for? The denizens of Marbletown don’t want this to happen. There’s another book in my collection, somewhere, that explains a theory that Sazael was murdered. He died young, very young. There are people that say that Sazael was poisoned in order to try and swipe out his prophecy. Not many people liked Sazael.. he had very a very small amount of followers, but now you know why the disciples went into hiding. Or at least, you have one theory of why they did.”

“So why exactly was I brought here, then? And how? There’s very little logic behind any of this!”

“Haha, there’s very little logic behind life and existence itself! All we know so far as that you’re not supposed to be here, and if you go around telling people that you’re the mortal sent her to upset the balance, then.. I think the consequences could be very dire.”

“Dire? Hm.. I just.. this is too much. I suppose though, if I’m sent her to do it.. then I have to do it to be able to leave, right?”

“Well.. yes, and no.”

“Yes and no? Makes sense entirely.” Her voice was sarcastic, and she finally moved her eyes up to the boy. He frowned, turning and going over to another bookshelf full of texts.

“Being that way isn’t helping. If you want to get back, you have to fulfill the prophecy. However, there is a chance that after you do this, that you may not be permitted to go back.”

“Permitted? Who would stop me?”

“I can’t answer that. I doubt many people can. This world is stranger than yours by a long shot, so get used to questions without answers.”

Emily sighed roughly and stood up, trying to make sense of all of this mayhem. For a moment all she could do was stand there, trying to make herself believe that she was dreaming, but that concept was getting further and further away from reality. “Okay.. so how exactly does one go about killing God?” Her voice was teasingly playful. The idea of killing God of all things.. that was too much to take on. To her surprise, though, the boy pulled out another book, equally thick as the last one, and slammed it on the table.

“Back in Sazael’s time this book was written as a guide to all who wanted to know that exact thing. Take it, read it, fucking worship it. If you’re the one who was truly chosen, then this will be your lifeline.” With that Mikal disappeared into another room, leaving Emily alone in the thick silence of the library. She picked up the book and exited the giant building, sighing as she flipped through the pages. If she wanted to get back to her world, she’d have to kill the God of this one. What a task, indeed.




Chapter Two
Nocturne

The gentle breeze of the night swirling through Marbletown was almost euphoric. The breeze itself smelled of honey and hazelnut, giving Emily the impression that the wind was coming from high in the trees that surrounded the town. She walked barefoot through the silent town, alone and secure with the book Mikal, the boy from the library had given her. A strange text it was, a guide on how to successfully murder a God. Strangely enough the idea wasn’t all that unbelievable to her. She raised her vivid blue eyes to the sky above, the sky that was turning from dark blue slowly to purple and then to a light blue that signaled daytime. There were a few people out and about, some looking groggy and tired, others looking awake and ready for the day. Few glanced at her twice, moving along on their way to do their daily biddings.

Emily wandered around aimlessly for a while, simply taking in the sights and enjoying the beginning day. She rarely spoke to anyone, and if she dared to it was only to ask the name of a building, or the way back to the library – she had no intentions of getting lost, so she kept a watch on where she went, all of the twists and turns she made. Before long the sun was high in the sky, Emily guessed it was noon, or close to it. Weariness beat steadily through her body as if it were her own blood. For a moment she let her eyes fall closed, stumbled and jolted herself wide awake. Wiping her eyes, she glanced back to see what it was she had stumbled over. Her eyes widened as she saw the white dog-beast, the very same beast that had attacked her on her first day in Marbletown. She trembled a bit, fear rushing up through her body at the memory of that dreadful beast, its sharp teeth and four vividly red eyes. The beast looked up at her, remembering, maybe, the taste of its recent victim. It rose, the fur around its muzzle still tinged red with the stain of her blood. Emily stiffened as she saw this, a wave of fear washing over her as the beast stepped toward her.

Strangely, though, this creature did not attack her. It simply moved forth and nuzzled her hand, with was clenched tightly into a fist. Emily hadn’t known that she had done that, but she didn’t think too long on it, couldn’t do to the fear rushing through her as this beast came so close to her. Slowly her hand unclenched and she opened her hand to the beast, palm up. A long tongue, ripped in some places perhaps from battles past, slid out from between the beast’s jaws and coated Emily’s hand in a thin coat of saliva. Perhaps it was by sheer luck that the girl met the beast once more. The antics that the dog-beast showed were canine, clearly, and Emily wondered why she had been attacked in the first place at all.

“Why did you attack me?” She asked, expecting the canine to turn and bolt at the sound of her voice. The dog-like form stayed with her, though, and she knelt down to face the beast.

“Guardian.”

Emily jumped back, eyes wide as the beast watched her with curious eyes. She had been startled by the sudden voice, wondering if perhaps even the animals in this world were strange enough to speak. Her answer came swiftly, though. The beast sat down and yawned wide, revealing a mouthful of jagged teeth, and she remembered all too well the pain that had taken her shoulder by storm when those fangs had buried themselves in her flesh. “You.. can you.. speak?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Evolution. Answer to everything. Evolution.”

“Ah.. right.” She supposed that the words made sense. Evolution had gone further in this world, far enough to allow animals to have the ability to speak. “Why did you attack me, though? You’re a guardian of what?”

“Of town, and town people. You were intrude, threat, instinct told to kill. You smell of foreign… world? Strange girl has.. book? I can read?”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This beast of foreign world origin wanted to read the book she possessed, even had the ability to read ! Emily considered letting the beast read the book, then thought against it. If the towns people hated the idea of upsetting the balance, then the guardian of those people would likely feel the same way. She came up with an alibi quickly. “Sorry, I would uhm.. let you, but I have to get this book to the library immediately.” To her slight dismay and slight relief, the beast seemed to let up slightly. It nodded.

“Understand. Get book to library.”

“Mhm, I have to do it today, or else the librarian will be upset with me.” Lies all around, flowing far too easily from her mouth.

“Ah, upset not good, terrible. You go now to library of Mikal?”

“Y-yes, that’s where I have to go. Can you.. can you take me there?”

“Follow.”

So it was that Emily followed the very same beast that had nearly ended her, clutching the book tightly against her chest, trusting him to lead her back to the sanctity of the library without problem. Inevitably, however, problems made themselves all too frequent upon their path.