He didn’t know why he was crying. He was staring down at the snapped bracelet charms that were strewn across the cold sidewalk. It was far enough into spring that there wasn’t snow on the ground, but the air still had a chill, and it wasn’t truly to that warmth that the summer sometimes chose to hold.
It was a bracelet. He could probably fix it if he tried, just replace the cheap elastic band he’d kept it all on. He’d just need to gather up all the charms, maybe replace some of the ones which had cracked or broken after a high velocity scattering onto cold hard concrete. And yet, he didn’t move, and instead started crying, tears stinging against his cheek, and smacking against the same surface that had been struck with the high velocity charms. Many of them were multicolored, and most were cheap plastic like the band. So he couldn’t exactly make out, in the moment, why exactly he cared. In the hours which followed, he’d grasp that it was because the bracelet and it’s charms had been gifts from his mother, who’d been dead three years as of then, and he’d had a long week. That was what had the thirteen year old Marcel standing on an empty sidewalk, crying over plastic charms that had once been a reward for doing his chores on time.
He wasn’t exactly sure how long he stood there, in the past or the present. But eventually, he wasn’t quite so alone anymore. He heard his footsteps coming, recognized them in the way that his large strides caused his boots to scrap the concrete in a particular way. And yet, he stayed put, he didn’t run, try and hide, or move to clean up his mess. He just stood there. In the way. And let Jan approach him.
“Marcel, are you-” The other boy started, before his footsteps stopped. Marcel didn’t move, but he had figured that Jan had seen the scattering of charms on the ground…and the slowly dribbling tears onto the concrete.
Silently, Jan passed him, the somewhat scrawny boy’s mass somewhat inflated by the layers upon layers he wore, even for a relatively temperate day like this. He looked at the damage, and without missing a beat, bent down and began gathering charms from the ground. He even found the nearly transparent elastic band, which was scooped up into his palm. It was around now, that Marcel had the state of mind to wipe his face, and slow the flow of tears sprouting from his face. Able to speak, he spoke aloud.
“You don’t hav-let me-”
Marcel crouched down, bumping into Jan as he did. He began to reach for a few of the charms, but Jan was faster, snatching them quickly with deft fingers. He had always been better with his hands then Marcel, who constantly dropped things, this whole fiasco being one example of that. In seemingly no time at all, despite Marcel’s inhibiting attempts at help, Jan rose to his feet, the entire contents of the bracelet clenched between his fingers. Marcel clumsily rose to his feet a moment after. Jan giving him a bit of a concerned look.
“Do you have a bag I could put this in?” He asked, tilting his head slightly towards Marcel.
For a moment, Marcel was stunned into silence. He and Jan were friends, good friends, but…
Somehow this act of kindness, in this moment of weakness, felt unexpected. It felt raw and biting, undeserved. He had been crying in broad daylight-how pathetic was that? And yet…
“…I don’t think I do. I should…probably just throw it away, anyways, y’know? A bunch of the charms are busted up, and…” He trailed off, mumbling something that Jan couldn’t hear.
“It looked stupid anyways.”
He regretted saying that, even if only he had heard. It felt like a transgression against something, against his mother, maybe, or against himself. But he had to toughen up. He had to act older then this. That was what he was supposed to do, right?
“What was that?” Jan asked, unable to hear him. Marcel froze up.
“I-um. It’s alright. I’ll just…throw it away, if you don’t…?” He awkwardly held out his open palm, towards Jan, expecting the charms and the remains of the bracelet.
There was a long pause. Jan shrugged, and tucked the hand with the charms into his pocket, and zipped it shut.
“I can just do it. No use in you dropping them all over again, right?” He said, a bit light heartedly. And yet, it stung a little to hear…even if Marcel figured that Jan was probably right.
“Ok…I’m sorry.” He said, all of the confidence draining out of his voice.
“It’s fine. You want company walking home?” Jan offered, a smile still on his face.
“…I’ll be ok.” Marcel muttered, before turning away from Jan, and turning to cross the street. He heard Jan call something over his shoulder, but what should have been clear speech swiftly faded out of his perceptions, as suddenly, Marcel was awake again.
He was laying on a metal floor. In a metal room, lit by floating, white lights, which bathed the room in a warm glow. Now that he was more aware, he could see that the metal was gold, laced with some elements of silver and bronze, extravagant to say the last. He sat near a wall, below what seemed to be a large raised platform. At the upper level, on eye height with the platform, was a large window, which let in sunlight from what Marcel could only assume was outside. The walls were lined with artwork of various sorts, and on the central platform, a confluence of multicolored magical manifestations swirled around the figure of the Chimera Prince like a storm. He was seemingly deep in focus, not even noticing that Marcel had stirred.
Marcel noticed two things, then, when he was broken free of his somewhat sleep addled daze.
The more pressing one was that there were several jagged gaps in his chest. Where the traitor’s blade had cut through him, there were larger, open wounds. And yet, where the flesh would be ragged and torn, instead, there were clean, but uneven holes through his body. If he were feeling braver, he could probably stick a finger or two through some of them. For a moment, panic came over him, he breathed heavily, as he realized his wounds were still there…
But the panic faded a moment later, when he realized…he wasn’t bleeding, and they didn’t hurt. He took in a deep breath, steadying himself. It was probably some form of magical restoration he didn’t know. He didn’t exactly get skewered through very often.
It was then that he noticed the second thing. He was white knuckling an object. Something rigid, plastic maybe. He opened his hand, and saw it there.
The bracelet.
He was fairly certain he’d left it at home, sitting atop his desk, hanging from one of his bookends. He hadn’t worn it since it had broken originally.
Not since Jan had returned it to him, a month after it had broken, fixed to the best of his ability. He had said it had been easy, and that he felt bad throwing it away, since it wasn’t his.
Marcel was pretty sure fixing it had been his plan from the start. Not that he’d minded, in the end. He’d just been more careful.
And now, it was sitting in his palm. It was almost enough to bring a smile to his face, were it not for the events of the prior night rushing back to him. Jan, fighting against him alongside an inquisitor, and a traitor in their own ranks. It practically made his blood boil…but then again, the panic he’d felt seeing Jan’s face hit the pavement, in that split second, pain filled moment, left him feeling conflicted, and generally awful.
He rose to his feet-his weight felt slightly off, and he wobbled a bit, trying to keep balance. Maybe it had something to do with his injuries, or however long he’d been asleep. Regardless, he began to circle the room, looking around. He’d never seen this before…had this been what the Chimera Prince had shaped the clock tower into? When he focused, he could feel the bit of his shadow he’d poured into the ritual, beneath his feet still…which meant that seemed rather likely. He marveled at the beautiful art, which ranged from paintings, to seemingly murals that were removed, wall and all, to statues, and even some tapestries. The room here was expansive, in a way that almost made his senses confused on how big or small it may or may not be.
He wandered a little bit, before he saw the Chimera Prince move. Rising from the meditative position he’d been in, his wings unfurled on both sides of him, as he scanned the room, his three eyes eventually finding Marcel, his face moving into a smile.
“Marcel! My boy, join me up here. You simply must see what we’ve accomplished together.”
He held out a hand. The metal of the platform twirled, and a golden staircase formed, settling a little bit away from Marcel, who gave his own smile, and ascended to the same level as the Chimera Prince. He didn’t look any different, which both surprised Marcel, and didn’t. Maybe he was already perfect as he was, and didn’t feel the need to use the ritual to transform himself.
When he reached the platform, he could also see out the windows, and see the reshaped world around the clock tower for what it was.
The sky was clear, and silver rather then blue, multicolored specks drifting through it. Around the edge of Ostoja, that same pattern of the sky descended down, almost forming a wall or barrier against the horizon. Within the town itself, there was almost a jarring split, between the ordinary town, mostly looking so along the outermost to medium most edges, and what had been changed by the slowly expanding wave of transmogrifying magic.
What had been changed was practically a collage. The existing buildings had been changed completely. In their place were other buildings, but ones that didn’t mesh with the once modern town they had replaced. Winding towers, mismatched cubes, large cave entrances, giant flowers that opened up in the center…Marcel was convinced he saw a giant shoe mixed in somewhere. Too many to all note, each of them home to one or more of the Prince’s subjects. The roads which had once been paved with asphalt or gravel now slowly became the product of evenly cobbled smooth stone. Empty lots devoid of life suddenly began verdant gardens. It was chaotic, it was strange, but…
It was beautiful.
Marcel turned his attention back to the Chimera Prince, who had followed Marcel’s gaze out the window. As if reading his mind, he said.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? And it’ll only get more beautiful when we sever the binds to this world.” He said, with confidence soaring in his voice.
That was near the end of the ritual, Marcel knew. When Ostoja would get torn from the world, and made into a proper faerie realm. The Chimera Prince had assured, and Marcel had calculated for, the ordinary people going unharmed. They would have a feeling like being asleep, as the ritual overtook them in space, then when the town was severed, they’d get spat out near the edge of town. They’d have to find their way to the next town over, but that shouldn’t be an issue.
“Yeah, it will. I’m…” Marcel paused, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Sorry. I failed.”
He opened his eyes to see the Chimera Prince frowning.
“Failed? I don’t see how you failed, Marcel. Thanks to your call, Dirk was able to locate and defeat all five Olympic agents who infiltrated in the chaos. Otherwise, however, you couldn’t have possibly predicted that Trespass had betrayed us. And if you had not responded to her call, Elvina very well could have met her end at the hands of two inquisitors and the traitor.”
The frown quickly turned to warm smile, the Chimera Prince trying to be reassuring.
“…Elvina is ok? Vo and Penelope…?”
His face darkened.
“From Elvina’s account…” He began, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. “Trespass slew Penelope, likely knowing she was least defended. There was nothing that could be done for her. One of the inquisitors, then, used a technique of cursing to force Vo into an animal form, and used some kind of creature under her control to drive off Elvina. Whoever these Inquisitors are, they’re rather mighty. Especially now with Trespass on their side. However, we need not defeat them. Only ensure they cannot stop the ritual.”
Despite the dark air that had just come over the conversation, the Chimera Prince seemed to put on a strong face. That strength somewhat prodded Marcel into having the confidence to speak up.
“…About the inquisitors. One of them…was someone I know. Jan Mendyk. I don’t think he’s…an inquisitor. Not the way I’ve heard you talk about them. I think he’s being used.”
The Prince pondered a moment.
“Was that the boy Elvina said she dispatched? He seemed well trained, and well armed, how she described him. He had the markings of at the very least, an inquisitor in training. Even if he wouldn’t call himself one.”
Marcel shook his head strongly.
“He just got out of the army. That’s probably where he was trained…he said that someone attacked him, I think it was Edwin, based on what he said. I think it’s a misunderstanding.” He said, repeating his sentiment again.
“Misunderstanding or no, he’s still a problem, especially if he’s trigger happy. That said, you know him better than I. Do you think he’ll rear his head again, assuming he survived the wounds Elvina inflicted upon him?”
The Chimera Prince seemed to be legitimately asking for input. And Marcel wasn’t opposed to obliging.
“I…think he might. He seems worried about what we’re doing, I didn’t get a good chance to explain, before Trespass attacked. But if he shows up, I think if we explained everything to him, he’d come around to it! The woman with him seemed much more dangerous.” He said this with conviction and hope, in his voice.
That got a pause from the Chimera Prince. A pondering. Before he spoke again.
“On that second point I agree. But…Marcel, I have told you how I came to be, yes?”
The question took Marcel aback slightly. But he cautiously answered.
“…You have. You’re a collection of weakened faerie, formed together into one cohesive being, able to act where their former incarnations couldn’t, yes?” He was pretty sure he was remembering that correctly.
The Chimera Prince gave a nod.
“Correct in broad strokes, but there is more to it then that.” He said, taking in a long breath of air. “A very long time ago, when the Olympian’s first performed their rite to go from gods to faerie, all non Olympic realms were destroyed in the convergence. While this did kill many lesser faerie, who couldn’t survive being torn from their realms…many survived. And with no place in Olympus, were spat out into the ordinary world.”
He said this with the same connotation as one might describe a murder.
“And when they were there. Many people, who thought themselves virtuous, and thought themselves protecting their own, attacked them. Drove them back. And in some cases…destroyed them. These hunts, these…inquisitions. They are why many beings who make me up do so. Baba Yaga, Leshy, Alkonost…they were all driven from their homes by Olympus, and then hunted to the ends of the earth by foolish humans.”
He grimaced.
“And now, they are contained within me. Among dozens, and dozens of others. Who would much rather exist again, walking this earth. Which is part of why we’re doing all of this. We’re creating a sanctuary, and a breeding ground. A place where, one creature at a time, my being can be undone. The beings which Olympus displaced, will return, and they can reclaim the world which shunned them.”
He took a long, deep breath.
“And humans like Jan Mendyk will not drive them away again. We will be sure of that. Beings like you, beings like my subjects, all those who seek sanctuary, will be safe from those like him.”
A long silence hung over the pair of them. Marcel’s brain going a mile a minute, before it…caught on something.
“Beings like me…also…aren’t I a human? Why do I get to…stay, if humans are the problem?” He asked, slowly. “I respect what you’ve done, but…do I deserve to stay? Will I ever be safe, for this place?”
The Chimera Prince stopped. And looked at him.
Another long breath in.
“Marcel. Have you looked down, recently?” He said, his lips pursed.
Marcel did. Squinting, then looking back up.
“…Yeah. I got wounded…I assume you or someone else patched me up? Made it so I wouldn’t bleed out.” He said, a bit of confusion creeping into his voice.
“No one did anything to you. Marcel, you’re…”
He closed all three of his eyes. And then reopened them.
“Different, then you expect. Different in the sort of way that means you can survive being stabbed, or use your shadow for magic, in the near natural fashion you can.” He said, slowly, and gravely. But also, with a bit of…gentleness, to his voice.
“…But…it hurt. I passed out, I was…bleeding? You said I was just a prodigy, I-”
The Chimera Prince held up a hand.
“I put a bit of glamour over you. Enough so that if you suffered an injury, you and those around you wouldn’t notice anything wrong. That glamour has broken, now. It used to be perpetual…but the more you’ve used your shadow…” He said, trailing off, as if waiting for Marcel to draw a conclusion.
Marcel shook his head violently.
“You’re wrong. I’ve…grown up here my entire life. I have parents, I went to school. I’ve seen doctors, I-I’ve been normal! Nothing’s ever been wrong. If I was…different, I would know-I only know what you’ve taught me. Natural talent.” He said, in a stammer, trying to defend himself from what he knew couldn’t be the truth.
“Marcel.” The Prince said sharply, asserting eye contact. “What is your last name.”
Marcel stopped. He stopped dead. He scoured his brain, tried to think. Pushed himself to the limit, as far as he could go. What. Was. His. Last. Name.
His entire mind, cover to cover, back to front, came up empty. The only name that he could assign himself was Marcel. He pivoted, trying to remember what his father’s last name was. Surely, they shared it. He recalled it. He pictured it. He could even string the letters together, spell it out in his mind.
But he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t speak it. He couldn’t assign it to himself.
The Chimera Prince kept speaking.
“What happened to your mother? When have you ever been seriously injured? Who was your doctor?”
Questions. Questions. Questions. Not one answer came to them. Marcel put both his hands to the side of his head, trying to shut it out, trying to push the answers forward, to conjure something that he could use to fight back against this accusation, this label, this thought that the Chimera Prince was putting in there.
But there was nothing.
Tears began to roll down the side of his face, silently. And yet, the Chimera Prince kept speaking.
“I know what you are Marcel. It’s why I’ve helped protect you. You’re…a creature made by a powerful faerie. I’ve come to learn it’s one from Olympus. Originally, you were little more then something disposable. A duplicate, made to resemble a boy named Marcel Jurek. To not let anyone notice that the original Marcel, an infant, had been whisked away to Olympus in the middle of the night. You, Marcel, are his shadow.”
That hung in the air, for a moment. Marcel, or the shadow of Marcel, slowly, but surely descended to his knees. Not able to support his weight on his feet anymore, and preempting his own tumble, his own fall to the floor of the platform.
“I reject that reality, for you, Marcel. I refuse to believe any creature, even one made from another, is disposable. I took you in because I reject that design. I reject that point of view. And I want you to help me keep it that way.”
He sounded determined, idealistic, even if Marcel only felt true and wretched despair in the depths of his heart. Did he have a heart? He didn’t know. Not anymore. Thoughts swirled in his head, slamming against his skull like hammers, over, and over and over again. The ringing was intense. Unending. Fever pitched.
“It must be a lot to take in. But…it’s better you found out before this came to fruition. Before you saw your friend again. If he sees what you are. If he ever knew. He’d kill you in the defense of what he thinks the good of the world is. And even if he won’t…it’s clear those he spends his time with most certainly won’t. So, I’m going to need your help.”
All three of the Chimera Prince’s eyes were on Marcel. Or the shadow. Or…whatever he was. He had his head in his hands, tears dripping through them, and onto the floor. He was only loosely aware of the Prince’s gaze. The two of them both lingered in silence at the apex of the once clock tower, for who knows how long. Before slowly, but surely, the shadow stood.
“…You lied to me.” He said, barely above a whisper.
“Only to protect you.” The Chimera Prince said, sternly. “I wanted you to be confident in yourself, and your humanity gave you that. But…you can be better then that, now. You can join me properly, rather then be a mere protege!” He said, with that same charismatic confidence. But Marcel didn’t listen to it.
“…I…I don’t want this. I wanted to help you, I wanted to help them, but I didn’t want this. And now…you pull the rug out now?!” Marcel said, raising his voice into an emotional, impassioned shout.
“I-” The Chimera Prince started, but it was Marcel’s turn to cut him off.
“You taught me all of this, told me I was a human prodigy, but now I’m just…someone’s shadow? Where’s the real Marcel, then?! Am I just a copy? Am I not real? Does my life mean nothing!?” His throat was starting to go raw, further and further, the more he shouted.
The Chimera Prince stammered. Marcel had never heard that before. A pang of guilt and a spark of rage flowed through him.
“I-I…I’m not going to…” He said, the emotion slowly starting to trickle out of his voice. “…I can’t help you. Not really…”
The Chimera Prince shook his head. Putting a large hand on his shoulder, and offering another to help him up.
“Of course you can. I can help you, and you can help me, as it’s always been. Nothing has to chang-“
“Get AWAY from me!”
Marcel shouted at louder then a roar, slapping the Chimera Prince’s hand away. He hadn’t realized it in the moment, but his own shadow had sprung to life behind him, wreathing his fist, and putting more force behind it. Enough to send the Chimera Prince back a full meter.
Marcel was about to stand, when he felt something grab him. Long, spindly, like a snake or worm but rigid like bone. A chill passed over him, as this strange beast, which had about nine heads sprouting from it’s neck, appeared, and coiled him tightly. Footsteps, behind him, moving up the golden stairs. The Chimera Prince righted himself.
“Thank you, Mr. Baul. Marcel is…having some trouble.” He said, a bit…nervously?
Dirk’s voice filled the room.
“I can have him put to sleep, if you’d like? Until the sun sets, at least.”
Marcel moved to shout. Profanity, curses, magical words-but the creature’s body was within his mouth. Shoving down his throat. All nine heads looked at him with blank beady black eyes.
“That would be…wise. Marcel, my boy…you’ll see how this is for the best, soon. You’ll always be welcome in my realm.”
The Chimera Prince gave a reassuring, yet poisonous smile, as the beast that wreathed him slowly put him to sleep.
Kindling And Miscellany 