Statement: As with most tales, we must start with common ground. Much of this first chapter will involve recounts of the people in my life, with more detail than anyone might like. I do this because my first journal may have been lost to the wild. They may have different rules to their scrambled text, making one easier to decipher than the other.

Regardless, this is a story about what happened to us after the world went mad. It’s a story about how our natures changed. We are no longer who we were and this should keep us all awake at night. To understand why who we’ve become is worrisome, I must share a bit of who we were.

The town had become a chaotic mess. Most of the worst damage happened before I got back. For me, it had only been a few months in this new world. For everyone else, they’d arrived at random intervals over the year, using the same weird fantasy bus.

My understanding, gained during the weeks after joining with Mayor Kent’s forces, amounted to each bus back being a week after the one prior. Therefore, I had been potentially the last to arrive in this new world. Nearly dying to the E-X-I-T had been a tradeoff to receiving a discount on multiple items.

The knife in my hand didn’t feel warm or cold. The substance of it couldn’t be described using words like iron, silver, or copper. Magic made the item by taking a starry sky and trapping it inside a thinly glowing aura of black. This is utter nonsense yet accurate.

I used the blade’s tip to groom myself. Occasional slips caused the knife to part flesh, which healed fast enough after the blade passed. It would have repaired faster if I’d been in my default body. Normal me healed with a speed that bordered on absurdity. Male dryad me, healed about three fourths as fast.

I sat in the attic of a building just south of the park. This place had been the safest in the entire park and afforded me two key advantages. First; a clear path from this attic to my baby niece’s room below. A simple drop out the window and a twist of my lanky shoulders allowed me to leap to her defense against any invaders.

Second, it gave me a proper line of sight to the rear exit of the park.

“What about Hawthorn?” a woman asked.

Those words made my pointed ear twitch upward.

“He’s probably in the attic. That’s where he was last time,” another responded. It took a moment for the fugue to clear from cleaning my nails. The process had become hypnotic. It assisted me in pretending life had normalcy.

The group below wouldn’t come after me. An explosive rune was on the attic level along with a picture of a bomb. Even the new world’s magic couldn’t obscure such a clear sign. My rune spell only lasted ten minutes, but they were ignorant of its time limit.

Note: As a reminder, or in case you’re picking up this second journal without reading the first, written words in this changed world will become a garbled new language. I’ve attempted to decipher them using children’s books, but it is a time-consuming task. Ironically, this renders my own journals useless to me at this stage.

Once, one of the elves had opened the hatch to see who sat above the baby’s room. They lost an arm, until someone healed it. I had not figured out who, or how that happened, but marked it as a possible danger in the future. Healers were useful, but only when they cooperated with my interests.

Sufficed to say, I did not trust most people in this place. Even those close to me, Allegra, Callisto, and Leon were kept at arm’s length.

“Hawthorn!” Callisto shouted. Her voice had a rough vibration to it that sounded thick and needy. She’d said my name while panting so many times that I had a hard time hearing anything else.

To recap, Callisto typically wears torn shirts worn with age. She keeps chainmail over it and has more swords than a normal person would consider healthy. Recently, I’d slept with her multiple times. Callisto seemed unaware we’d also dated together prior to this disturbing new world nightmare, when I’d only been Lance. I hadn’t shown her both forms and wondered if she might freak out.

She should be on the ground floor below on the wooden slats of an oddly sturdy deck. I could stick my head out and glance down at her but arrows were a real fear. The park’s grass and shrubs were overgrown but this house still had a clearing about it, leaving little cover.

This world had no internet, and monsters on every street. I hadn’t fully mastered the art of throwing knives accurately beyond a few dozen feet. Hours of free time and a blade I could summon from nothing provided me lots of practice. Growing skills took dedication.

She continued to demand attention. “Hawthorn, I know you’re up there!”

I imagined her in an extremely compromised position. It felt like a fair trade for being bellowed at.

If she kept yelling, one of the roving monsters might hear her. The bramble wall kept out nearly everything but occasionally small critters got through. Our most common enemies were tusk faced mini-orcs that stood about waist high. They were fantasy cockroaches and everywhere. Their meaner relatives included shotgun wielders and lantern bearers.

Rocks pelted the roof. Their ricocheting filled the attic with aggravating rattles. I finished cleaning the last of my fingernails and fought off a shiver.

“Did you scout the ogres?” Callisto asked.

She meant that question for me. I ignored her.

“He’s not up there,” Leon responded. He’d become a haunted man since the event. Leon wore golden plate armor, rarely stepped out of it, and had once been a bus driver for the city. He claimed to be a tanking paladin. Bright lights, a personal shield, and some ability let him force monsters to attack him.

Observation: I’m not entirely sure how, or why, but Leon might be magically compelled to be a slave to Mayor Kent. I can’t tell if this is a ritual, some strange magic of the new world, or a personal choice. I do know that anyone calling him Mayor Kent obeys his orders for any number of reasons.

“He’s up there,” Allegra said. “I saw him on the drawing.”

Allegra wore an endless amount of house robes and had magic that used paper and artwork to function. I still didn’t understand how she performed her skills. They were flexible beyond belief, but she ended up being recon, buffing our abilities, and healing. We’d worked together a few times, with her showing me the layout of a place ahead of time, or providing a map, then I would sneak in.

That brought me to the ogre issue. We had to defeat them. The secret lay in getting an artifact from the local county park, according to a sneaky woman named Little Shade. She’d given me the flyer, I’d showed it to the others. Mayor Kent believed we needed to take the crown for reasons I didn’t fully understand. Every time I asked why, he changed the topic. As a result, I’d contemplated stabbing him.

The knife in my hands turned to stardust. It also meant my explosive rune would fade soon. Creation spells lasted roughly ten minutes. Shape changing, such as the one that turned me from a normal pale male to this brown-skinned wiry man with stiff black hair continued until I peeled off the rune.

So, Hawthorn and Lance. Two personas with different histories in this new world. Becoming Hawthorn had only required killing a woman and her husband. What I’d done had been wrong by the old world’s standards. That brief adventure and many others would hopefully stay in the past.

Except for Coach Madison. He existed out there, along with Toymaker and Nix. The trio had been part of another compound across town. They’d been quiet since I killed their slave master who put black magic collars on people.

“Today, Hawthorn! We’ve got to do another dungeon and need a better plan for those stupid ogres. If we’re lucky we’ll get a vending machine. Or maybe a scroll.”

These idiots also believed our world had been transformed into a video game. Their skills and abilities fit. If I were assigned a class, it would be a rogue. Pure damage. Disproportionately lethal amounts of damage. The four of us had grouped three times since the slave compound and each time I focused on killing enemies.

I stood and glanced out a side window. No creatures were in the woods aside from our people. They wore green bands on their arms to help identify friendly people from outsiders. I did not wear the bands because people hardly noticed me anyway.

Little Shade did. The two of us were sneaks and whatever magic obscured us to other survivors and monsters made it so “sneaks” couldn’t hide from each other. That’s what she told me, but Little Shade had been shrouded under a special hat she’d found that cast a dark silhouette over her entire body.

“We should leave without him,” Leon said.

“We’re leaving without you!” Callisto shouted.

I lowered myself into the room. An elf, tall, lanky and confused, stacked blocks for a young toddler. Stella, my niece, knocked down the pile and ran over with her arms raised. At a year old she cried often, but the elves quickly soothed her with a pile of toys or snacks near the door. She’d remained delightfully bright in the face of a crumbling world.

So far, I had not found anyone else under the age of thirteen. It made her an exception among the few dozen people I’d met. This singular exception bothered me. As a result, I’d decided, rather firmly, to kill anyone and anything needed—to keep her safe. She babbled to me. My thoughts wandered.

Thick walls prevented me from hearing the trio outside. They might leave without me but I’d catch up eventually. Even if they wandered off, I’d still find something useful to do.

Stella patted my nose. I reared a bit and smiled at her. The young child grinned and spoke in a language even the elves wouldn’t understand. Baby babble delighted me.

“I’ve got to go, Stella,” I said while holding her. My voice wavered but that meant nothing. I’d left before. She’d existed for weeks, or months without me. Honestly, I would be another figure who meant nothing. Hawthorn was not Lance in her world. We were not related.

I had no good reason for keeping the two personas separate, other than a gut feeling. I’d killed as both people. My abilities were shared between them. Neither form could lie.

I’d tried, but something about this new world or my abilities prevented me from telling anything outright false.

The elf hadn’t said a thing. He simply continued to stack blocks. Lost in his own childish game. The letters on the sides almost made sense. T-R-E they spelled, before the letters transformed into gibberish.

Stella babbled. I made faces at her and enjoyed her giggles. The world felt right. My happy spot shattered as the door cracked open and a second elf charged in with a broom held high. Pinched eyes and twitching ears displayed her agitation.

I set Stella down. The toddler wobbled over to the newest elf, who searched the wide open room twice before noticing me. The elf’s opinion of me didn’t matter. I left before their confusion could infect me.

Outside, I verified the supplies were still plentiful. She had diapers and wipes for months. Food would eventually go bad but there should be more at abandoned houses. I worried about her diet. Knowing this twisted new world, the pumpkins being grown would probably turn into monsters. The side effects from eating monsters was unpredictable.

I cupped my hands over my face and steadied myself. Giving into future panic wouldn’t help. I needed to survive and deal with this mission of Mayor Kent’s. Callisto also agreed on needing to defeat the monsters downtown. Both would allow for Stella’s wellbeing.

Priorities must be maintained.

I’d exit through the bottom floor and meet with the others. They were probably waiting or loading up the carriage. Callisto packed a lot of armor and weapons. I checked my own clothes. Defenses, for me, stopped being a concern in this new world. Creatures that hit me hurt and as long as nothing killed me outright I’d heal. Pain meant death hadn’t won.

Admission: In a twisted way, I kind of liked being hurt. I don’t believe this to be a side effect of any of the orbs I’d absorbed. It seems to be a sad truth of my life in this new world. Here, if I hurt, then I clearly live. That matters.

Mayor Kent stood at the stairs. His arms crossed and a smile on his face. The expression conflicted with itself. Crossed arms meant closed off body language, but a smile meant inviting. This bothered me as much as Stella’s existence. “Saying goodbye?”

I nodded. “I’ve got to get going. Callisto and the others are waiting on me.”

Mayor Kent gestured toward the room I’d left. His face always had smudges of dirt on it, as if he’d been out in the field working on plants until seconds ago. His clothes were often the same and the man claiming to be my father had taken to wearing overalls.

“Stella’s speaking now. Almost full words. Though I think the elves are teaching her their language instead of English. Or it’s just babble. You and your brother used to babble too.”

“That must have been strange.” Being around him made me itch. I reached into my book for the first page. Fingers curled, the light sensation of stickiness and burning let me know the explosive rune had attached. I could, easily enough, throw the bomb-like spell into Mayor Kent’s face.

From there it would spider web. Seconds later, it would explode. We were beneath Stella’s room and the damage might reach her. My fingers uncurled.

“You are going with them, leaving Stella?”

“Correct. I’ll be back. I’m going to kill a lot of monsters so they don’t come here.” That was my plan. Kill monsters. They wouldn’t dare come into this compound. The logic seemed sound enough for this new world. Having a stronger army worked in the old world as well. One simply needed to demonstrate a disregard for all other life.

I could do that.

“How long will you be gone?”

“A few days. We’ll scout the town hall, again. From there, we’ll head to Crown State Park.” We’d done so half a dozen times already. Each trip downtown revealed an even more fortified compound than the prior adventure.

“How high are the walls?”

“They’re at the second story. Only two doors are at either end of main street. Over a square mile is blocked off now. “

“They’re catching up. If I were their leader, I wouldn’t go anywhere until my defenses were better than anyone else’s. You saw what happened to Madison. His walls weren’t good enough.”

I frowned. Coach Madison’s walls had barely existed. His compound had survived through special abilities focused on enslaving others, and technical gadgets no one else had. Toymaker, Nix, and Coach Madison were all still at large.

“And you said Crown State Park? That’s—” The Mayor paused and counted on his fingers. He shook his head and counted again. “That will take days to get to with the cart. If Arson even wants to travel that far, or you have the fumes to last.”

Arson drove the cart. He took care of Callisto’s weapons. He was black, crude, and also deaf as a post. I liked him. The fumes were a material that reminded me of incense sticks—they helped keep monsters away.

The man who claimed to be my father continued citing problems, “If we still had cars it’d take five hours, maybe six. But now, the roads are crammed with defunct vehicles, and I remember giants being there when I first came to town.”

Post Note: You may wonder why I don’t believe him to be my father. I have trust issues. Prior to this new world, my mother died to cancer. Dad simply left after mom died. I hadn’t seen him for… a long time and had been living on my own. Since I could not trust him to stick around, I did not trust him to survive the line, or help in the town’s time of need. Therefore, this might not be my father.

“Remember when we took a trip out there? You were five. I couldn’t get you or Richard out of the water.”

Five was almost fifteen years ago. I didn’t remember it, and smiled instead.

My father sighed heavily and deflated.

“You better get going. The others will be waiting,” he said. His arms opened for a hug. I did not return the gesture. Mayor Kent nodded and went by, heading toward an office he’d converted into a half-bedroom. It sat near Stella’s room. I’d kept an eye on his actions in that office, but so far Mayor Kent only worked on one project. He had a map of the county with hundreds of pushpins.

I wanted to know what they meant but refused to ask him. It wasn’t talking to Mayor Kent that bothered me, but showing any obvious interest would give him an edge over me. The only person here who I actually trusted was Stella. Babies who couldn’t speak—also couldn’t reveal any secrets.

Outside, on shattered asphalt of a former parking lot, waited the others. Callisto wore a sour expression and gazed toward the residential houses of our compound. Another forty refugees lived there, doing little more than tending and trying to keep the place from falling apart. A handful worked on the fence and maybe half were capable of taking on a mini-orc single-handed.

People strong enough to handle dungeons and multiple enemies were outliers.

Leon pulled on a shoulder pad and grunted as he fought for room. The armor flickered yellow. He smacked the plating into place and the dull glow faded. I tilted my head and studied the trio.

“We ready?” Callisto asked.

“Seem to be,” Leon said. “Except for Hawthorn.”

Allegra’s feet kicked in the air. She was laying back on a cushion at the front of the cart. Leon sat carefully over the main axels. His armor weighed the cart down almost as much as Callisto’s weapons.

Callisto leaned back and pulled on the cart’s side. It rocked with the other two in it. “Get us going. Downtown, remember where we parked last time?”

Arson turned around to face the others. “Who sharked a landmine?”

“Park at the minimart,” Callisto said slowly while walking around toward the passenger’s side.

“You have a heart,” Arson said while nodding seriously. “But I thought we were going downtown. I’m stopping at the corner store. You won’t catch me going one step closer. Only reckless idiots take on those ogres. Me and Daisy will sit outside. Or maybe I can find some new material behind the counter. God knows I need some fresh magazines.”

“Never thought I’d miss the internet,” Leon said.

“Ha!” Arson laughed. I doubt he’d heard Leon correctly.

Their ride pulled out of the broken parking lot toward the gateway framed by thick briar. None of the others noticed when I got into the cart and parked myself on the tailgate. There, I summoned my blade again and picked at my fingernails. Sometimes, I cut the flesh. The pain reminded me that this hell was real.