Reborn From the Cosmos

Arc 8-35 (Ceri)

The first time anyone saw the shifting spectacle that was the Myriad Zone, they were awed, amazed by the power of magic that had permanently altered a corner of the world. It turned adults into children as it resurrected long buried dreams. The joy was infectious, the catalyst for the many taverns, bars, and less reputable establishments that populated the Zone. Those that visited found themselves in the mood for reveling and the residents of the Zone made it their business to make the revel always available. Most people of Quest loved it, seeing it as the playground where they could forget their endless pursuit for might and glory.

Ceri hated it.

She was no different from anyone else; the first time she saw the strange effect of ever-changing colors in the Zone, she was enthralled. She thought it was proof of everything she ever hoped for, confirmation that she could accomplish everything she ever dreamed. But, too soon, she learned that the Zone wasn’t special. It wasn’t an amazing feat of magic, it was just another fuck-up painted with pretty colors. Colors that could get nauseating. A gold road was a novelty. An excessively bright green road was both ugly and painful to look at. The constant party grated on her nerves, as she was rarely in a partying mood and she hated the idea that so many people could be enjoying themselves in such a miserable world.

She hated the Zone when she could keep it at a distance. Having to live within its boundaries was unbearable, but it wasn’t the first time she’d endured unbearable circumstances. Thankfully, the revelers weren’t as lively as usual as she limped through the streets, holding her arm close. No one paid any attention to her or her injuries as she passed. Probably because her torn skin was the color of the sky and she bled in hues of orange. Who knew what they thought was staining her clothes, but they didn’t assume it was blood. Misfortune could never touch the Zone. The whole city had been leveled but not even a tile was out of place in the place of eternal revel.

That made it the perfect place to hide.

Everyone assumed that the rebels, as the city called them, had taken shelter in the ruins, hiding amongst shattered buildings and under piles of debris. And they were, a fraction of their numbers. Another fraction lived outside the city, camping in the wilds. Another fraction lived in the refugee camp set up by the Hall and another fraction was spread out amongst the paid rooms of the Zone.

They weren’t strong. If they wanted a chance to be anything, to change anything, they had to be crafty. Sneaky. Cautious to the point of paranoia. Ceri had been bunked in over a dozen different places since she joined the movement. She had been hoping that her stay in the Zone would be just as short but it had mercilessly dragged on.

She barged through the door of the Yakking Dog, the unremarkable tavern that went unnoticed in such a remarkable place. The middle-aged woman behind the bar looked up as the door opened but quickly went back to watching the scant customers seated in groups of two and three throughout the room. None of them looked up as she shuffled past them and up the long staircase, sliding along the railing. She was starting to feel weak, not enough that she couldn’t keep going but just enough to want that tiny bit of reassurance.

She only stumbled once before reaching the top of the steps and fished her key out of her pocket without much struggle. Her neighbor’s door opened just as she reached her room, a young man exiting while scratching at the pink fuzz on his chin. He did a double-take when he saw her.

“Saints, Ceri! Is that…is that blood?”

“No, it’s booze.”

“...but you don’t drink.”

She swore under her breath as she jammed her key into the lock.

“What happened at the meeting?”

“Not so upset you weren’t tapped for the job now, are you?” she grumbled as she turned the lock.

“Guess not. Hey, do you need hel–”

“Goodnight,” she snapped as she opened the door, slamming it behind her in case her tone wasn’t enough to dissuade her ally’s supposed good intentions. She locked it and stumbled over to the small bed, gratefully falling onto it. Her foot nudged a small bucket of water closer, an old rag folded on its edge. She made it a habit of always preparing as much before she went out, as she hated going to bed feeling grimy. Not for the first time, she was thankful for the habit and swore to never let it slip. She couldn’t imagine how miserable she’d feel in the morning if she went to bed bloody. She doubted her ability to fetch more water in her condition and she wasn’t staying in the kind of establishment that catered to its guests.

With slow, careful movements, she removed her jacket and her shirt, tugging carefully when they tried to cling to her skin, throwing them away. Her boots were next, then her pants. With a grimace, she dabbed at her cuts with the wet rag, beginning the slow process of washing off the troubles of the day.

She was one of the lucky ones. A craggle had thrown itself at her, but it only got a glancing blow before she slapped it aside and it was quickly dealt with. The scratches had bled profusely, but they weren’t deep. Compared to the poor bastards hit by badly aimed spells and the sorry sacks that’d been targeted by the emberwolves, she’d practically gotten out untouched. They’d been told that they might die, but they’d expected it at the hands of the Traditionalists trying to assert their dominance. Not a magic dog taking a bite out of them or their own allies’ fuck up.

She had no idea how they were supposed to take on the kingdom when they were taking each other out. If she’d ever doubted that the movement was a poorly organized, spontaneous mess, tonight would have cemented that belief.

And yet…

And yet Sin had been unflappable, even when besieged by mad beasts. Unlike her, he’d been in the center of the chaos, beset by dangers on all sides, and he’d truly come out unscathed. They might be weak, but he was strong. They might be a mess but he was as sure and solid as stone. She might not know what the future held, but he had vision. And he’d been right. About everything.

She kept that in mind as she forced herself to stand and grab a chest binder from the chest of clothes at the foot of her bed, wrapping it along her arm as a makeshift bandage. She didn’t bother to get dressed again as she climbed into bed, shutting her eyes and praying to the saints that sleep would take her quickly. Mercifully, it did.

The nightmare was so familiar, the fear it used to invoke was replaced by the comfort of routine. It didn’t matter that it was more realistic than usual. She’d never forgotten a single thing so the reminder meant nothing. 

She watched blankly as the red giant with a single eye found her in her childhood bedroom, shattering the door as he stepped through it. He grabbed her with a rough hand as he roared in her face and dragged her through a house of shadows. They moved toward the kitchen, the only source of light, where an oven with a face full of teeth belched flames. It meant to eat her and roast her and the red giant would rip the flesh from her bones, no different from the pigs it slaughtered. But before they could reach the place of her demise, a pale ghost with long, limp hair and the Abyss for eyes threw itself at her tormentor. 

The woman had no chance against the giant, but her desperate wailing gave Ceri a chance. She clawed the thick fingers pinching her arm and he dropped her with a bellow, stomping furiously as she scrambled between his legs. She threw herself into a mouse hole, crawling through the bones of pests until she found an empty corner to curl up in. Something warm pressed against her back and she leaned against it, smiling at the small bit of comfort in the darkness.

The smile was still on her face when she woke. The cuts along her arm ached but it was a fraction of the pain from the night before. Otherwise, she felt well-rested and full of energy. It was a rare thing for her dreams to end on such a positive note. She wouldn’t delude herself into thinking it was an omen of a good day, but she hoped it would be better than the last.

“Good morning, sleepy-head.”

If there were any weapons close to her, Ceri would have stabbed the voice. As it was, her hands balled into fists as her head snapped around. Her frantic heartbeat slowed as she took in the figure on the end of her bed. On paper, her friend’s features sounded monstrous: gray skin the color of ash, small horns, and cloven feet. But the strangeness was blunted by her beauty. Her doll-like features could be nothing but innocent, hiding a devious streak, and her luminous, pink eyes were works of art.

“I’ve told you not to sneak into my room,” Ceri grumbled as she relaxed.

“You were having a nightmare,” her friend said, brushing off the intrusion. Ceri let her. After all, she couldn’t simply walk through the building like a normal person. People didn’t need reasons to be cruel but they certainly got excited by them. Those who wouldn’t persecute her friend would undoubtedly have worse intentions. Better Ceri be startled every now and again.

“It wasn’t so bad this time. You were there.”

“Oh? Dreaming of me?”

The rebel snorted. “Not like that, pervert.”

“I know, I know.” Her friend leaned forward, eyes filled with worry. The sight squeezed Ceri’s heart. She was the only one who worried for her. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a couple of scratches.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten hurt at all.”

“The movement is dangerous. I knew that going in.”

Her friend reached out. After a moment, Ceri took the petite hand and squeezed it. “If you can’t be safe while surrounded by your supposed allies, I have serious doubts about this movement’s competency.”

“It was…” Ceri sighed. The beasts had been unsuspected but her allies were far more dangerous. “It’ll work itself out.”

“Tell me about it? I may not be able to be with you, but I can listen. Give you some advice.”

On one hand, Sin insisted on strict secrecy. But on the other, she trusted her friend. She was the only one that had ever looked out for Ceri. She was the one that had been with Ceri in the darkness.

“...it’ll be dangerous for you too.”

“A little danger is the least I’d face for you.”

The rebel huffed, turning her head to hide the blush she could feel heating her cheeks. “...fine. Let me tell you how the shitshow started.”