PoiL̸̶̨͈̱̯̪̱̲̤͉͇E̵͖̮̩̼̝̤̩̦̖͙͠͠Ą̴̘̙̲̠̗̮̘͔̖͔̟̠̖͞ͅN̴̲̭̰̕ͅm ̸̵̸̡̲̦̙̱͇͇̫͈̗͟O̴̢͖̲̝͕̭̘̭̣̖̹R̸̡̰̳̠͎͓͍̰͎͎͎͇͓̣ ̶̟̫͙̠̖͎̥̬͉a HarpoV̵̨̭̲͇̯͈͚̯̫̱̠̮̤̻͕̩̖̝͞͞͞ͅͅE͟͜҉̨̭̬̜̠͔̰̥̝͝E̶̶̯͔̱̗̳̰̹͘͢͝ͅN͏̖̜͓̙̞̙A̷҉̧̜̜̰̼͓̞̣ͅcrates

Reality shattered right in front of Eleanor. Atoms tore themselves apart at the Anomaly. The hole into unreality was filled with stars and void, moving like a living organism within this strange Anomaly. If Eleanor could reach out and touch it, she would have. Mana itself was being dragged into its pull.

It was Eleanor’s fatal curiosity at play, but right now, Eleanor wasn’t Eleanor. She was Poima.

Poima pulled away. Fear trickled down her spine as she spun her heels to escape the black void of stars. The Anomaly was the Veil being pulled down, revealing the universe’s eldritch truth.

Reality was nothing more than a culmination of untruths, deception, and Unreality. Nothing made sense but mortals adopted logic. Logic is the way of the World of Reality. Logic bound and forged by Athena, the Sole Goddess herself.

But there are things beyond her, more terrifying in their presence. They care naught for these pathetic and flimsy rules. Two plus two might as well equal a fish for them.

The Anomaly was the very definition of raw chaotic opportunity. Eleanor and Poima felt themselves being pulled towards the tear in reality. Poima’s father was laughing, his grin full of teeth.

There was a strange smell of flowers. Roses? Vanilla? Eleanor couldn’t tell. It was somewhere in between.

Poima’s hair slowly dragged to the hole in spacetime. Whispers in her ear, reminiscent of royalty and power, tempted her to jump into the Anomaly. Her right foot stepped forward, any hesitation and fear about the Void quickly evaporating until she heard a scream.

“No no no no no no this is all wrooong! The will of the Sssssssanctuary! Co-co-corrupted, can’t sense it! Wrong! Not our Deity! Wrong!” The elf started to spasm, his expressions warping and lagging like spacetime jumping between frames of reality.

The once-calm elf started to spasm, angry and offended at something within that tear of reality. His lips glitched as his eyes rolled over into his skull. The sheer audacity of whatever was inside that pocket of madness angered him greatly.

Poima, in the end, thought to herself at how easy it was to bring out this Anomaly to existence. It was far too easy in fact. “Was it planned?” She muttered to herself in disbelief. Eleanor felt the same way.

Then, in an instant, the Anomaly spread its tendrils across the laboratory, stretching to consume each piece of reality. A calyx of darkness shot straight to Poima’s head.

Eleanor felt her own self get pulled into its eclipse. What was once Poima became Eleanor and the memory went black.

The silver floor was dirtied by dust as a figure brushed itself off of it. A hand held to its head in an attempt to balance itself. Dust slowly dissipated and the figure became visible.

A young redheaded noble coughed as she waved the last specs of soot away from her. As she gathered her bearings, she noticed she was able to move.

“I’m...back?” in my own body? She asked herself, stretching her cracked arms as she dusted off her knees.

Then, her attention turned to her crack-filled arms and hands, as if her body was a shattered slab of glass. “What’s with these cracks? They don’t hurt,” she said as she scratched one. They appeared more metaphysical than an actual wound, and that frightened Eleanor. A drop of cold sweat fell from her neck, causing her to squirm uncomfortably.

She bit her lip, shaking. “No,” she muttered, “I can’t be scared. Not right now. Not now.”

The mana lamps that lit up the corridors started to flicker before the life was snuffed out of them. It wasn’t a sudden loss of power, but the darkness strangling the light.

Shuffling

Guuurgle

Incomprehensibbbleeeee

Her ears picked up something that made her stomach queasy. The sound that violated her ears was like swallowing tapeworms. A sensation of something squirming beneath her navel brought a hand to her mouth. Green with nausea, she pushed forward against the feeling to find the source.

“G͘҉o̸̴b̶̛͜͞͞a̕͠c̶̴͢ḱ̡͜͝͞b͠a̵͏͟c̛͏̀͡k̸͏̶͟b̷̴͟͟͟á̸̷̢͠c̷̛͞ķ̢̢͡b̵̀͜͠ą̸̨̨͢c̕͜͝ḱ͘͜ţ͝͡o̶̷̕͞҉ţ̸̡h̨̕e͘͜͞m̴̢̢͜͡t̨͞h̸̸̨͡͡e͠͝͞҉m̧̢͘̕t̷̡͜h̛҉e̷̵͘҉m҉͘t̸̀̀ŗ̵̶͢á̵̢̨͡p̸̧p̶̨͟͠é̸̡̛͝d̶̢̨̢͡t͘͢͠͡r҉҉͘͡à̷͟p̶̛ṕ̀͡͞ȩ̢d̴̶̢̛͡f̷̀ó̴̶͜͞r̵͢e҉̡v̵̧e̵̢͟͏҉ŕ͟a̵̡͝͝ņ̷͘d̨͢͡à̶̡̨h̸̢̀ą̢͠l̶̸̛̕f̡͜.”

It made her ears bleed. The cracks in her arms started to shift in and out of reality. The mana lamps bled into the walls.

The blood had a pleasant aroma of romantic roses and sweet vanilla.

Come closer, something whispered to her, come and see.

“N̨͜͟͡ờ̵̸̡ơ̧͘͠ò͘̕͟͡o̸̡͢͟o̶̡͜͝ơ̶ó́͟͠o̴̶͢͞҉ǫ͘o̵҉̕o͘͟͡͝d҉̴̨̧͘ó͜͝ớo͠͏͠o̵̧̡̢n̴̵̕͜n҉̡t̵̷t̵҉t͏t̷̷͘͢͞t̷̴̴̀̕t̷̶̨̢͝”

Eleanor stepped through a broken door, the glass beneath her shattering under her boots. Before her was a crouched silhouette hugging its knees. It rocked back and forth as if singing a lullaby to itself.

This is a bad idea! Eleanor told herself, but she couldn’t stop herself. She needed to figure out who it was in front of her. As if she was possessed by morbid curiosity, Eleanor placed a hand on the figure covered by black.

Its shoulder was surprisingly firm, like a person’s. She felt the warmth of skin against her palm. It was a woman’s shoulder.

The moment her hand landed on its shoulder, the rocking movements stopped. Like a movie on pause, the figure became eerily still. Sensing its stillness, Eleanor retracted her hand, sensing a sudden chill up her spine.

She stepped back, finally out of the stupor she was previously in. What made her do that?

As Eleanor was walking backwards, her boots crushed against the glass again, suddenly eliciting movement from the silhouette. It cracked its neck to the side, then folded its spine backwards to face Eleanor.

“G̡̪̗̱̙̘͇̪͕̻͎̮̩̝̘͛́́̔ͪ̂ͨ͌̊̐̋i̛̛̫̤̠̺̰͎̣̟̟̝͕̞̤̱͓ͩ̋͑̿ͅͅi̸̷̪̟̫̺̺͉̻͖̬̺̝̞̮̜̹͉̺ͥͮ͋͒͒̽̾̾̎͆į̶̺̠̰̰̰͎͉̦͎̥̮̰̦͈͓̹͈̺ͪ̿̆̉͆ͭ̕͠ͅv̭̹͈͖̞͓͇͇̼̣͇͚͉͍̦̦̲̳ͯ͛̌̋̅̽͐ͨͯ̂̓͢͡͞͠v̷̵̞͖̥͇̯̮̮̳͇̙ͨ̅̂́͊̈́̾̊ͫ̿̓̌̐ͫͫ́̚͢͢v̰̤̼̖͇͚̣̠͓̾̈́̓͆ͥ̎̀̋̒̆̀͑ͭͤ̀͘v̴̸̴̬̣͍̺̤̥̪͓̻͇̱̩̱̖͍̺̜ͧ̎̂͋̈ͦͪ̽̏ͣ͋̐ͩͧͯ̂ͅv̷̖̤̠͈̗͇̲̦̩͚̪̱̙͙̩͑ͭ̃͆̆̍͊ͤͧ̋̓̍̌ͅͅe̢̥̹͈͇̬̼̖͍̹̝̞̼̣̯̮̬̯ͯͬ̑̓ͤ͋ͪ̾͑̾̀͌̃͒̐̿͘m̷̛̪̬̜͓̤̱̙͍̟͆ͦ̈ͥͨ͐̏͑̾̆͗ͬ̋͋ͤ̀̂͂͞͞e̴̡̪̤̩͓̘̝̰͔͓̳͚͔̺̟̬̖̟̣̊̌ͤͪ͛̋̈͆͠ͅm̵̢̻̥̦̻̫̳͕͇͇̟̫͕̺̯̞̣͌̅̉ͪ̀̅̋͘͘͝m͕̮͓̝̗̹̫̩̺̤̒͊̾̇͌ͦͪͥ͆͘͝ͅm̵̒ͨ̐̀̃̈̔͒ͩ́ͨ͑̿͋͆͡҉͕̭̣̞͚̠̙̩͉̺̖̙̬͎̰͝ͅe̷̝̻̱̒̔̌̑͌̅̔̃͛̓ͩ͢m̧̛̪͔̦͓͇̼͔̩͉ͩ̇̔ͪ͋͒̈́ͭ̽̄̎̒̽̑̏͂͆̚e͕̦̣̦̣͉̋ͮͪ̄͆́́̏̐̒͒̾͂̇̀͘͟m̧̆̈̋ͦͦͯ̈́͆ͣ̊͌͋̂ͣ̑̏͒̚͡͏͈͉͓̮̝͚̹̥̺͈͎e̛͍͎̺̣͕͓̦̹͇͛̇ͩ̓̌̉̇̋̓̈̈͂ͩ͒ͭ̊̆ͫ͜͡ȩ̪͎̱̭͕̙̹̝͇̝̺͍͕̝̗͚͍̙̠ͤͤ̊̃͑̇͗͗̂̑̀̏̿̏͟͜͝a̼̻͖̙̗̻̙̞̽ͭ̍̇̇͑́͠b̸̪̠̱͎̳̹̆͒̄͂ͤ͠͝ą̉̒ͬ̈́̉̇ͧ̆̿́̌̅̑͂̉͠͠҉̞̺͓̠̫̰ͅa̴̶̸̻̭̱̰̖͉̬͕̠͓̯̹̟̹̩͉ͬ̋̄̂̽̃͆ͧ́̔ͨ͌ͪ̎ͪ͆̚͢ạ̢̼̬̫̗̮̮̗̗͕͓̮͚͙̠͔̝̓ͬͣ͑͂̆ͭ͑͂ͅà̛̛͍͈͎̖̙̱͒͌̔a̢̩̥͇̭̜͇̥̝̠͓̖̭̼̗̅ͩ͋̍͌̀̃͂ͮ̇͌̃̔ͬ͑͐ͪͮͧ́͘͟͠a̷̧ͦͣͤͪ̇͜҉̞̭̲̭̺͎̮͔̞̻͍̖å̤͈͚̖̠̹̟̖̺͍̝̦̱̭̪̘̩ͭ̿̉̑͗̒̔ͦͫ͊̅ͦͦ̕͘͝a̷͑̽ͬͦ́ͤͯ̋ͪ̄ͨ͋̽ͣ͏͈̞̟̠̼͓̹͖̻á̡͚̜̫̰̺̎͒ͫͤ͑̋̇̃͛̏̉ͯ̕͟a̡̹̜̮̥ͯͧ͗ͧ͛͒c̆̔ͭͪ̐͊̆̾̄ͭ̍̾ͭ̒̕̕͡͏̣͖̗̻̗̪͇̘̼͈̪̬͉̩̖̻k̓͒̂͌ͬ̀̓̊̿̐́̾͢͡͏͉̣̤͖̹̝̪̗͎̘̬͍̪̻̞̩̣͢m̓ͦͮͧ͋͊̿̌̈̚̚̕͟͜҉̢̦͎̘̺̥͍̦͕̲͓̣̣̹̻̠̯̞̺̝y̶͉̤͎̪̺̮̪͚̙͍̪͙̞̗̭̜̆ͪ̃̀̆̉ͤͮͭ͐̔ͣ̌̾̿̈ͣ́͝͝y̴̩̘͉̫̲̮̝̻͉ͫͣ̆ͨͭͬ̃͌̆̏̂̎̌ͪ̓ͥ͑̔͟ẏ̡̜̣͇̬͓̭̳͎̖̖̯̻͋̿ͯͫ̑̄̈́͊ͯ̍͜ͅy̸̸̸̰̘̬̠͙͛͑͂̓͢͞y̧͕͓̭̼̙̘̥̰̘̹͔̞̳̝̻͉ͨ̀ͨ̎͛ͪ̆͞y̵̧ͪ͑ͬ̒̾̌҉̹̼̝̹̗̫̭̭̣̮̬y̸̴̧̬͕͉̬̯̠͇͋ͪ̇ͧͮ̋͐́̾̊ͨ͋̒͠y̧̛̬͍̦̠̥̤̞̠͔͚͉͉̠͙̅̿ͥ̄̋ͤ͒ͮ̚bͭ̉̂̏ͧ̔̿̓̀͒̍͗̑҉́͘̕͏̳͔̞̻̯ŏ̵̤̜̫̟͇͔͚̜͛͛̈́̾͂ͭͯ̾ͣ̔̐͆̃o̎ͣ̈ͤͬͥͮ̓̍̎̈̌̐ͨ̈́͋҉͚̬̟̜͇̥͖̳ͅd͎͙͍̝͈̙̩̈́̾͐̈́̏̎ͪ̊̂̌ͤͥ̄͆ͯ́͢͝ḏ̵̞̺̍̍͗̿̅̓̄̇̌͐͊̈ͤ̽̆͂̾ͫ̈͝d͔̱͚̞̬̘̹̭̦͕̹̩̺̪̥ͬ͊̋̂ͯͧ̎̍̔̔ͬ̎̌̑̑͜d̾̒ͦ̂͆̔̍̋ͭ͊̑͂͒̒ͦ͡҉̵̪̪͚͖̯͕͞͠d̷̬͚̗̦̥̖͉̥̥̙́̄͊ͤ̿͊̋̾ͯ̅ͪ͆͡d̛̰̬̗̮̯̱͕̤̝̫̺͙̺̪͕̲͙̙̓̌̌̍ͬ̍̔ͨ̾̚͟͡d̋̍͆͞҉̣̝̣͔̣̫̜͇̙͔̖͉͖̙̼͓̭̬͘d̸̨̮̯̮̥͕̘͓̠̥̝̗͋͂̃̒̃̇͌̾ͥ̍̆͂͋͞͠y̢̧̡͈̼̩̫͙͚̯̫̪̬͇̩̮ͧͬͦ̎̓̓͒ͯͪ̃̎!”

Fueled by an unspeakable rage, the creature’s claws wrapped around Eleanor’s neck, pinning her to a wall. She saw its face contorted by the Void. None of its features made sense, like a child scribbling on a piece of paper without care for pattern or sense.

It had her, and it was never going to let go.

Veronica Leylon

Veronica had placed a sleeping Eleanor on a bench nearby the memory orb. Her face looked happily at her mate, caressing her cheek and rolling a red hair strand against her finger. She sighed.

With body reinforcement, borrowed from Elsie’s arsenal of skills, Veronica hurled to the air and towards Michael, her arms clad in silvery-black mana, aimed directly at his skull.

Michael quickly raised his wand, forming a wall of ice between them. Bolts of electricity seeped through the stasis of mana. The boy jumped out of the way before his ice wall completely collapsed under the scrutiny of Veronica’s lightning.

“How?!” He was shocked as Veronica showed intense power even without her wand. Then he noticed in the corner of his eye a boot lying next to Eleanor.

Veronica’s left foot had been standing on a plate by the grass, absorbing mana from the runic symbol. It allowed her to channel and absorb magic like a supercharged wand.

She was using the demonic runes around her to her advantage. It substituted for her lost wand. Michael grit his teeth. Even without her wand, Veronica was a formidable opponent. He should’ve considered this.

“Look, I don’t want to fight you,” Michael said very calmly, as if talking to a child, “Just come with me, and I’ll forget this fight ever happened.”

Propelled by the mana underneath her foot, she threw herself to him, forming a blade of mana around her fingertips. The tip of the blade was right between his eyes.

His eyes widened as his breath hitched.

Ice shot upward and encased Veronica’s hand, isolating it from Michael. She clicked her tongue. If there was one thing Michael excelled at, it was placing mana traps in the midst of battle. He could do it even when his opponent was watching him. A trapmaster, so to speak.

Still overcharged by the runes, she melted the ice, but her opportunity to kill Michael then and there slipped through her grasp. He was a slimy snake, so she needed to corner him further.

I need to get rid of that wand, Veronica thought, Only then can I kill him.

He noticed her gaze to the wand on his right hand. Immediately realizing her strategy, he wrapped mana around his hand, encasing a block of ice around the wand and his hand, fusing them together.

“By stick it is,” Michael mused.

“If those are your last words, then you have horrible taste, Hernold,” She snarled, I’ll need to finish this fast. I can’t hold on to this mana forever. She felt it dissipating bit by bit, leaving her body in miniscule amounts.

She stretched her hand to another rune on a pillar, absorbing the mana from within it as Michael gathered his bearings again. He was frightened from the sudden brush with death. Slowly, he gathered his wits and waved the wand around.

He must be setting traps. She thought to herself. Now that I’m aware of his traps, I can track them.

The two mages glared down at one another. One gaze was filled with pure disgust and hatred, while the other was encapsulated in distorted and greasy affection.