The Izanami Central Government does not speak for you! Ignore all the propaganda, ignore all the lies, we're so far removed from them how could they possibly know what we go through? Man has been living in space long enough now that our ways of life have become completely separate and totally alien to our Terran brethren. Think about it, have they ever spent the majority of their day in a pressurized suit? Is cosmic radiation a constant threat to them? Oxygen rationing? Artificial gravity? No! They're in cushy offices planet-side; they have no idea what life for the average colonist is actually like. They think because they've read a few reports and watched a few vids, that they can just Bleedcast a few mandates our way and call it a day? We say no! If you feel as strongly as we do, if you also believe that Colonies should be self-governing, then help us spread the word. Help support the initiative for the first Sovereign Colonial Government, free from ICG's influence once and for all!

-United Colonies of Humanity via viral message broadcast throughout the Bleednet.

Roxanne stirred. Her eyes felt glued together; crusty. She tried to rub them free. Had she been sleeping? Where ever she was, it felt hard like a ceramic floor. She shot up quickly to get her bearings but her eyes were still crusty and half closed, she rubbed them some more. How long had she been out? As she rubbed, Roxanne tried to piece her last memories together.

Maybe it had been a dream. Yes, of course, she had to have been dreaming! She definitely did not just try to steal those rings and she definitely didn’t hear a voice call her name. Once she got this crud off her eyes, Roxanne would be back in her bed and everything would be fine. The last bit free and clear, Roxanne opened her eyes wide.

Nothing but white as far as she could see. No walls, no floors, just white.

Maybe she was dead.

She blinked her eyes again a few times just to be sure they were open. She scrambled to her feet in a panic and looked around. Everywhere was striking white, it was tough for her brain to comprehend. If this was a room at all, no boundaries appeared visible; it was endless. Yet somehow here she was, perfectly supported as if there were an actual surface beneath her; she stomped down twice with her foot just to be sure.

"Indeed, it is solid."

Roxanne froze, the hair on her arms pricked up while her heartbeat picked up a few paces. Frantically her eyes darted like little pinballs. "Who said that?!" She asked. "Where am I?!"

"You are in the Bleed," said the voice. “A pocket dimension within the Bleed, to be precise.”

Roxanne searched for a source but none was apparent. She felt her nerves loosen, her mind incrementally coming to grips with the impossibility of her surroundings. The Bleed? No one could just exist in the Bleed, it was so unbelievable it flipped a switch in her mind. “Okay, so this is a dream then.”

“Does this feel like a dream?”

“A bit,” she shrugged. "But I’ll play—who are you? Why can't I see you?" She made a whole play of looking around.

"Would it make things easier if I had a form?" The voice asked her.

"A little, yeah."

Roxanne found this dream interesting, much in the same way she found the last few lucid dreams. She was eager to see how this one played out. The area before her contorted slightly as energy swirled around it. It was an exquisite vortex of color, orange and yellow, that further stood out in the stark white of the expanse. The light spun around on an axis before it morphed and stretched. It took shape in front of Roxanne; a humanoid shape. At first undefined, but features quickly took shape like clay being molded invisibly until it was done and a familiar figure stood in front of her.

"You?!" She thought for a moment, a name on the tip of her tongue. "A—Azonne? You're...alive?!"

"She lives on in here, through her memories imprinted upon the mantle; through me. You find comfort in this form, do you not?"

Roxanne didn't answer that, instead, she walked around the “Azonne” utterly fascinated. "I keep waiting for me to wake up any minute now; who are you? What is all this?" She stopped in front of this apparent avatar and eyed it suspiciously.

"I have no name, I am simply the First," they replied. "I called to you, and brought you here, to take my mantle."

"Your mantle?"

"You are to wield the Cyntaf, the most powerful weapons in the universe, and be a light in the face of great darkness. You saw this darkness first hand."

Roxanne was instantly taken back to that day 6 months ago. All that fear and anxiety returned and hit her like a freight train. She shuddered. "This isn’t a dream, is it?"

"No, Roxanne. I was created at the dawn of time as you know it," now the Azonne avatar paced around Roxanne. "The universe was originally nothing; it simply was darkness, an endless expanse of conscious thought and dark energy. For an unmeasurable amount of time it feasted and grew without challenge. It was without equal until I was born.”

“Born?”

“The quantum fluctuations that signaled the birth of our universe also gave birth to me. When I came to be, it became my purpose to keep it from having such dominion again; this is the Balance."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Everything. The darkness and I battled for millennia until I had been mortally wounded. At the time there were only four sentient intelligent societies but one rose above the rest and created these," They held out their right hand, it was clenched in a fist. They turned it over and unfurled their fingers; the two rings sat in the palm. "Everything that I am was placed into these rings and then given to their finest warrior, thus creating the mantle. I have guided each successive bearer in wielding it since then."

Roxanne thought about what she had just heard. “And what? You’re saying it’s…it’s my turn?” She couldn’t believe it, me?

“Yes,” was all this visage of Azonne had said to that.

Roxanne was baffled. Each word said was English so she understood them, but put together as a whole…it made her unsteady. A few days ago she got chastised for messing with the school mainframe and now she was in a place with no walls, talking to a facsimile of an alien she’d only met in passing.

“Why me?” She asked.

“Why not,” it answered. “Azonne felt the connection, as did you; the Balance has shown the way.”

"So you want me to wear those?" She nudged her head forward a bit, indicating the rings. “And we’re in the Bleed? Like, right now?”

"My consciousness resides in a section of the Bleed not accessible by ordinary means," they replied. "That is where we are now. My cognizance is not that different from the information and data that is passed through your so-called 'Bleednet'. The rings serve as a conduit for that connection.”

Roxanne felt light-headed and she needed to sit. Her hands were shaking, she wanted to throw up. She staggered down to all fours and stared through the endless white expanse that stretched to infinity. She got lost in it.

“This is insane,” she uttered and shut her eyes. “Wakeupwakeupwakeup.”

“Roxanne, your world is still in danger.”

She caught a breath in her throat and held it there for a few seconds before she let it all out in one long exhale. She sat up with her legs tucked under her butt and stared up at the avatar. She felt so exhausted; every new bit of information acted like micro-punches to her abdomen. Azonne’s sacrifice had made such a mark on her, was it really for nothing?

“I thought you saved us all?”

“Indeed, we did save your world, but there is no peace while the Balance is broken. Azonne allowed the Nameless to completely take her over to buy your world time. The Nameless cannot be fully destroyed but her actions allowed me to imprison it, in here with me, while her sacrifice sealed the door shut.”

"Wait, so you're saying that—that thing is in here, with us, right now?!"

"Yes, I locked it away deep in this little pocket dimension. It was the only way we could ensure not just your world's survival, but the entire universe." The Avatar stepped closer to Roxanne and held out a hand.

“Know this: By accepting the mantle, once you leave this place, it will be free."

“But I haven’t accepted anything!” She shouted at the avatar. “This makes no sense, I’m nobody!”

“Not nobody, the new ring-wielder,” they stated flatly. ”When we first met—the silent connection that passed between us both—that was the moment you were chosen. That is when these rings became your fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate. What if I don’t accept?!”

“You must,” they said. “Bringing you here has opened the door, the mechanisms governing the Nameless’ freedom are already in motion.”

"This is crazy!" She shouted. "I'm just 16 years old; I've never even been in a fight!"

The First/Azonne smirked and blinked out of existence while the white of the room had drained from it completely. Roxanne was steeped in darkness, it washed over her. In the distance, a chair had materialized and she took steps toward it. It was a perfectly square leather armchair, not so different from one found at home. She touched it to make sure it was real and it was. The Azonne avatar too had materialized beside her, hands folded behind their back.

"Please sit," they said and she did so. "Look out into the darkness, what do you see?"

"Literally nothing."

"Look harder." So she did. A pinpoint of light became clear in the distance. The light split and became imperceptible little dots that grew larger with each passing second. They were balls of energy, coming right for them both. "Do you see them now?"

The lights approached; these were other beings, and the first of them flew past her. It was an alien, bug-faced like a praying mantis, with long white hair and a humanoid-like body. It was clad in metallic armor similar to Azonne’s; similar but not alike. There were minute differences in styling, but the sun-like symbol was prominent on the chest. More lights whipped by and Roxanne caught glimpses of all manner of species and creatures. Soon, there were so many it all became a blur of fast-moving lights blowing past them both.

"I don’t understand," Roxanne finally said. “Who are they?

“Your predecessors, they live on here; like Azonne they all made their mark in service of preserving the balance. ”

“How many have there been?”

“Billions,” it told her. "All their shared experiences, all their talent, all their skills would be available to you to wield. You will not be alone on this journey Roxanne."

"What are you, then?"

"I am your guide, I function not at all dissimilar to your Artificial Intelligences," they replied. “As data is energy, energy is data; as I said earlier, my consciousness is not unlike the information that is sent through your Bleednet.” The passing beams of light all coalesced and turned the room stark white again.

“This was how I was supposed to serve Azonne,” they said after seconds of uncomfortable quiet. The Avatar had turned away from Roxanne; she shifted in her seat to watch it.

“What happened?” Roxanne asked.

“I failed her.”

“This is a really bad sales pitch, you know.”

This caught the Azonne by surprise; it almost smiled. “I’m not selling anything, remember? It is already decided.” Roxanne ignored that and watched the Azonne avatar quietly turn around and sit on the edge of the armchair.

"I apologize," they said. "Believe it or not, I understand your reticence.”

“That so?”

“This has never happened before; no bearer has ever died before choosing their successor." The Azonne got up again and paced briefly. “Typically, the current ring-bearer would identify the next in line and bequeath them the mantle and the Cyntaf.”

“Sounds like a whole thing.”

This made the Azonne Avatar smile, “ Indeed. With the balance broken, however...”

“How did this happen?" Roxanne asked. "What broke the balance?"

“When Azonne was a child, she somehow bonded with an aspect of the Nameless. We do not know how, it did not matter; her predecessor, D’Grav, had arrived on Ganlomb set to carry out her duties and destroy her.”

“Is that what you do? Destroy…things?”

“Corruption must be cut off at its source no matter the cost; those it bonds with are subsumed in total and wreck havoc upon the Balance.”

“But obviously Azonne lived.”

“Like you, the connection passed between them; the die was cast. Azonne and the Nameless were not fully bonded—or so we thought—because D’Grav was able to destroy the tar-colored rabbit easily. We both thought that, perhaps, the next bearer having briefly bonded with the creature was significant and would reveal why in time.”

“Sounds like it did,” Roxanne said but immediately regretted it. Was now really the time? The avatar was silent but nodded.

“Indeed. I spent so long searching this mind space for any signs of the Nameless but I never found a thing; we couldn’t imagine it meant her fate was as a bridge to the next bearer. We came to grips with this in her final moments; she was a bridge to the future; everything that happened had to happen.”

"That’s such sesh,” Roxanne shot out, it forced the Azonne avatar to look at her. Roxanne blushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Look, I don’t believe in fate or whatever but she clearly meant more than just some cog in the machine like that; that’s why you look like her right now, right?” The avatar looked down at themselves, considering the question.

Roxanne continued, “You can say it's for me, and I appreciate it, but it’s not just for me, is it?”

“No,” they said, finally. “She did her best and carried on admirably; this is the only way I can think to honor her with her physical form gone. Her thoughts and memories flow through me; I just wish I understood sooner.”

“She saved my world; she’s a hero. Just be proud of her instead of wondering if maybe she was destined to fail, or whatever; focus on what good she did.” The First/Azonne said nothing to this, it only studied her.

"Um, am I overstepping my bounds?"

They smiled and said, "Not at all. You are not as lost as you pretend to be.”

Roxanne looked up, incredulous, “Excuse me? What does that mean?”

“I meant no offense. You seek something greater than yourself, but it eludes you so you act like you are lost instead of being the change you want to see.”

“You never mentioned being omniscient,” she said, half pouting. Now she studied the avatar; a not-so-insignificant part of her was scared; pressing anxiety turned up to eleven. But maybe that was normal. Maybe this was what she had been searching for her whole life.

“You really don’t have a name?” She asked.

The avatar considered it. “Call me Azonne,” they said.

“Okay, deal.”

“Ah, this sounds like you’ve accepted?”

Roxanne paused and nodded. Screw it; it felt right. That was how she lived her life anyway; follow her heart and see what shook out. "I do," she finally said.

Azonne smiled and bowed their head. They held out their hand and the two rings rose from its palm and hovered over to Roxanne. "Place these on your fingers and be still. It will be...intense, at first."

Roxanne cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anything. She reached out and hesitated briefly but both rings floated into her open hand; all the anxiety drained away. She brought her hand back and inspected them. Roxanne thought, this is it; nothing would ever be the same again.

She placed the first one on her left middle finger; it was loose at first but the ring band auto-tightened to fit. She felt a tingle in the back of her head as the ring let off a small spark. She repeated the motion on her other hand and was compelled to shut her eyes tightly as a wave of pins and needles rippled under her skin.

Every aspect of her body vibrated; her atoms danced and her molecules shimmied. The hairs on her arms stood up straight as a combo of euphoria and pain washed over her. A hundred million neurons danced and sang inside her brain as information filled in and created new synaptic responses and possibilities for her to call on.

Deep in her cerebellum formed what Azonne dubbed as her mind palace, a safe space for her inner self that could take any form she wanted but, for now, simply resembled their current location. In wonder she started to explore, there she discovered she could see and manipulate energy all across the electromagnetic spectrum at all wavelengths; her predecessors called this gift the Sight, and to master that meant to master heat and light.

Deeper still, Roxanne found she could speak any known, and some forgotten, languages fluently. Finally, she became aware that she could access thousands of alien combat styles instantly: a punch combo expertly flowed from her hands with little more than a thought. She would only need to build that muscle memory from here on out.

This taste of power was strong and sharp; her heart sang with it.

Roxanne could hear Azonne explaining it all in great detail, the little pocket dimension now piggy-backed onto the periphery of her subconscious. While wielding the Cyntaf, a pure light energy aura would surround her at all times that she could manipulate to suit her needs depending on the situation: she could expand it to protect others, or condense it to create small shields for herself; the light could be hardened or softened on a whim.

Nothing will come to you easy, she heard them say. It will take time, and focus, for you to master them all.

Roxanne could feel her teeth clench while the next data dump entered her cerebrum. It was here where she learned about the Nameless and how it corrupted worlds by filling living beings with extreme hate and pain; they’d fight until they tore each other apart. After that came the feeding, where a giant dark oily mass would drain all organic matter until the world was simply a dead husk. Billions of such worlds were scattered across the galaxy.

Eventually, she found her body normalizing; the pins and needles sensation slowly drained out of her body and she was able to leave her mind palace and open her eyes. She was back in the white room but she was alone. She stood up quickly and noticed she wasn't wearing her clothes anymore.

She was wearing a uniform.

It was similar to all her predecessors but different, just like all the others that had come before her. The orange-colored armor cut off at the top of her stomach; dual orange bands wrapped around her wrists while her hands were encased in a hard shell that had holes for her fingers and thumbs to slide out of reminding her of MMA gloves.

The rest of the suit was pure black, with an orange-colored geometric circle appearing near the midline along with solid orange rectangles wrapping around her waist to break it up like a belt. She was further armored at the knees and the bottom of her feet; this armor came upwards and covered her toes and heels like a makeshift pair of soles. The armor looked metallic and shimmered in the white room but moved with the consistency of light fabric, a fact which, unbelievably, amazed her the most out of everything thus far.

The 15th bearer of the mantle standardized the uniform based on the first civilization; would you like to explore the archives and learn more?

"Maybe later,” she said, still staring at her hands. This was all so very surreal to her. “So, what now?”

You'll need to breach the walls of reality to exit Bleed Space and get back home. Like the technology your people use to traverse the void, you too can pierce the veil and surf the Bleed.

"Just like that, huh?"

Perhaps not so flippantly for your first time. But yes, as you become more experienced with your abilities and comfortable with the Sight, it will become like second nature to you.

"You said the Nameless will be free from here once I leave, yeah?"

Correct. Once you are back home: you must track and find its most likely manifestation point and then burn it out. Being imprisoned has weakened it some but if you can stop it from achieving a full infestation on your planet again we may be able to restore the Balance.

"No pressure, I guess." A thought occurred to her, she wondered if it was time to ask it. Screw it, "Burning it out, this will kill the person won't it?"

Correct. It is unavoidable.

"You’re really black and white, aren’t you?” She rolled her eyes. “So let me see if I understand: You’re telling me that this ‘Nameless’ can infect people, make them into those raging monsters, and there’s no remedy for something like that besides a death penalty?” She realized this had got her mad, she had her arms outstretched; Roxanne never thought this could get her so animated.

Correct.

For a moment this felt like one of those times where, maybe, she’d made a poor choice. “Surely there's another way?" She asked plainly.

Corruption cannot be removed without killing the host body.

Roxanne huffed silently, unsatisfied with that. She hated being told that something couldn't be done; hated it. Has anyone even tried? She wondered and she knew the answer instantly thanks to the shared legacy. No one had ever tried because they were told it was impossible; essentially creating a negative feedback loop. People died because that's just how it was done.

Well, she was going to try then.

It cannot be done.

"Hey!" She spat. "Don’t just respond to-to my thoughts!” She shuddered as she realized that privacy had just become a thing of the past. “If I don't directly ask you something, don't say anything. Understand?"

That may prove...difficult.

"Well start trying, Azonne." Roxanne smiled and raised her fist. She furrowed her brow as she concentrated on a fixed point in the white expanse. Energy hummed at the spot; that energy became a tear; that tear widened. Just as suddenly, it was a full-blown hole and on the other side was Saint Century.

Beads of sweat dripped from Roxanne's forehead; this was way harder than she expected. The concentration required to rip a hole in the bleed was immense and she gritted her teeth a moment more before dropping to a single knee. Roxanne looked up hesitantly but was relieved to see the hole had remained.

Very good Roxanne, most gates close the first time.

"Thanks, Azonne." She said as she began to float; it had happened involuntarily. She momentarily freaked out about it and shouted: “Whoa whoa whoa!” and waved her hands in a tight circle while she tried to regain her balance. With a bit of concentration, however, she found it easy to float over to the hole and she stared through it.

It was nighttime but the city still buzzed, bright as ever. She raised her fists to take another look at the rings; everyone is going to freak out! Hell, she was low-key freaking out herself. Roxanne took a deep breath and then breached the hole, it closed behind her the minute she had fully cleared. She was above Saint Century but found herself dropping in altitude.

She didn't panic, at first, as she had somewhat enjoyed the ride. One of the high-rises was rising to meet her, however, brought that panic to bear rather quickly. She thought back to the ease in which she had floated earlier and tried to apply that thinking to her present situation. Just had to think about it, right? She thought about slowing down, and she did.

She slowed herself at an angle before turning back upward. Her descent slowed but she wanted some speed so, with a just a thought, a burst of energy had her on the cloud top. A grin had spread across her face from ear to ear, how could it not?

I'm honest to god flying! She thought and her heart was racing. Roxanne cleared the cloud cover and turned back toward the city in a gigantic loop. Another energy pulse and she rocketed fast toward the city before she leveled off and traveled north toward her home.

A mental map of the city had been pulled up in her peripheral vision, complete with GPS-like tracking of her position relative to the ground. She had reached the house quickly but stood pat floating over it; she was hesitant.

"Hang on," she said. "I can't just walk in with this thing on," and she motioned to herself.

Think of something you would normally wear.

She did so. Her ring sparked and an energy ring engulfed her and traveled from head to toe, replacing her uniform with just a plain white t-shirt and black jeans.

"That's pretty handy," she remarked and floated slowly toward the house, landing just next to the staircase. Her grandparents’ home was a brownstone-style structure. Grandfather had always loved that style as a child, so when it came time to order his own he had specifically asked it be done in a similar faction. It was purely superficial as the entire house had all the modern amenities and comfort. Roxanne bounded up the stairs two at a time; she assumed that grandmother must have been worried sick since she'd been gone almost the entire day. She pressed her palm onto the plate and the door hissed open.

Welcome home...Roxanne? The AI had greeted her.

"Uh, yeah?" She responded. "Who else would it be?" A terrible crashing noise came from the kitchen, Roxanne rushed over there. Grandmother Millie stood in the center of the room, frozen. On the floor were the remains of a plate she had just been holding. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers.

She said, softly, "...Roxanne?" There was disbelief in her voice; it trembled.

"Gramma, what's," but she was cut off by a forceful hug. Her grandmother sobbed heavily as she held on to Roxanne, squeezing her tighter and tighter. Roxanne couldn't believe this. Sure grandmother was a touch dramatic, but this was just too much.

"Grams...!" She tried to interject. "...I can't breathe...!"

“Oh!” Grandmother shouted as she released her, but only so much as she had kept her hands on her shoulders. "I can't believe it!" She brushed a hand across Roxanne's cheek. "It really is you."

"What is with you, gramma?" Roxanne asked incredulously. "I'm sorry I was gone but it's only been a couple of hours!"

"A couple of hours…?" Her grandmother replied and brushed some hair out of Roxanne's face.

"Honey, it's been 5 years."

***

A tall dark nightmare sat upon a throne of blood. A pure black void with a hundred eyes, seven arms, and one-thousand teeth. The creature pounded the floor continually, a steady drumbeat that served as a call to action and attention. Similar but smaller void creatures surrounded it and climbed all over each other chittering like cosmic cockroaches.

Wes Gibson shot awake drenched in sweat. Beside him stirred his fiancé, Jessica Chambers. They met two years ago while he was in therapy and it’s been a whirlwind since; she was his rock and lifeline.

“Babe?” She whispered. Wes grimaced and rubbed her hips over the soft down blanket.

“I’m fine sweet heart,” he cooed. “Go back to bed.” But Jessica wasn’t stupid, she knew when he was BSing her. She sat up and reached over to touch his shoulder.

“No really, what’s wrong?” Her tone was soft like morning dew. Wes shut his eyes; how was he going to explain to her that he was scared of a nightmare? Although he trusted her implicitly, there were things from his past that even he kept from her.

Five years ago, Wes Gibson was still struggling with the fact that a space-born virus, as went the official story, had caused him to attack his best friend and break her arm. Five years ago, that same best friend vanished right in front of his eyes. To say that the totality of those two events messed him up would be an understatement of the highest order. In addition to that, the same nightmare plagued him nightly until he was given access to an experimental drug that suppressed dreams. From there, it was all the best therapy that money could buy.

The first couple of years post-Contagion and post-Roxanne he spent living on the net, hunting for her. He was sure that if she could, Roxanne would find a way to contact him. She never did. Therapy ground into his head that she was gone and that she was a thief, but it never really took. Instead, he packed those feelings away while he told all the doctors what they wanted to hear:

Yes, she's a thief. Yes, she abandoned everyone.

As the years grew long he became quite adept at compartmentalizing and had moved on; meeting Jessica helped immensely.

But the dream; it had been so long since the last one.

“Seriously I’m fine,” he said, finally. “Just a bad dream, I’m gonna splash water on my face.”

Wes got up from the bed and headed into the bathroom. After making sure the door latched shut, he stared at himself in the mirror. He needed a shave and his medium-length black hair was canted at odd angles due to the thrashing from before he woke up.

He sighed and tapped a panel on the side wall, the mirror slid open and revealed a medicine cabinet. Wes grabbed one of the bottles, opened it, and let two blue capsules fall into his palm. He threw his head back and tossed them down his throat, swallowing them dry. He pressed the panel again and the mirror shut violently.

Hundred of white eyes spread out and opened; they stared at him and he screamed. Seconds later, he was in his bathroom again; alone. Wes Gibson hugged Jessica tightly the rest of the night.