Beta has grown up watching the sky, never dreaming he’d be able to one day soar through the starry expanse. Now we’re here, he thinks, pacing with his hands clasped behind his back along the Verja’s interior. This momentary peace is a far cry from his panicking the first few days after the then-leaders of Verja had kidnapped him and his classmates to start the push for freedom.

The transparent glass walls of the small spacecraft’s front deck do little to dim the brightness of the distant, shining stars just outside.

Verja is small, by modern ship standards. Outfitted with the latest technology, it carries within its hold enough might to destroy planets. After all, that is its purpose, or rather, was its purpose. Beta and Seth and their crew have come to learn the ship, to rely on it. But, it’s different from the rest of humanity, they tell those they meet in war and peace; they are the masters of the machine, not the other way around.

Verja’s -the team’s- mission is to destroy the interplanetary AI network “Mother” whose guidance humanity can no longer live without. Its reaches are vast, maintaining servers in every corner of the universe where humanity resides.

Beta and Seth have destroyed approximately 27% of Mother. In doing so, they’ve learned to take command of their own fates the same way they took command of Verja’s control system just nine years ago. The branch of Mother that had been installed into Verja was their “first blood” - now free to use Verja’s impressive arsenal at will, they’ve taken the fight to her. Life-detecting heat sensors that were once used to block missile lock-on engagement are now used to pinpoint the locations deep underground where Mother’s key servers are hidden.

Mother fights back, of course. AI was created to assist humanity, and it is programmed into her very core to destroy those who would invite chaos.

There are sacrifices. Beta and Seth both cried after their first real battle. And the second, but not the third. By then, they’ve grown used to the loss of life. Still, every human casualty, both innocents and the militia Mother sends after Verja, does not cease to weigh heavy on their minds.

They cry again only when their mentors sacrifice themselves to buy time for the Verja to warp out of a deadly trap. Verja’s first generation of leaders are gone, leaving Beta and Seth with a whole host of issues without answers and a plenitude of grief.

They are only human. There are times when they feel they can’t continue, there are times when they want to escape the life they’ve tied themselves to at too young an age. In the two years following the first generation leaders’ deaths, Seth’s golden hair has gone white with stress. Beta’s not in much better shape, but the two console each other with whispered dreams of what they’ll do once humanity is free, and soft touches amidst the hard realities of war.

Six more years pass.

They’ll return to commanding the frontlines, soon. Verja has grown from a handful of rebels to over a quarter of humanity. Mother cornered, her oversight waning as average, everyday people across the universe who know about Verja attack her many branches with their own two hands.

However, the most dangerous beast is the one backed into a corner. Mother has ceased to view Verja and its supporters as humans, and supporters of her system -the only way of life they’ve known for centuries- gather their strength and strike with fury.

More lives are lost. Clueless young recruits dreaming of glory and freedom, grizzled aging warriors who have been with Verja since the beginning. It’s the same on Mother’s side, since surrender, for her, is not an option. Chaos is the enemy of humanity, and she must eradicate it, no matter how many individual lives must be lost to restore order.

Another two years go by.

Beta and Seth know they’re close. Many among the opposition have laid down arms, and Mother is in her death throes. All they have to do is track down the last of her core servers, destroy it, and it’ll be over. Humanity will be free - confused, stumbling, and scarred, but free.

They know nothing can be offered to the loved ones of those taken by war - the many civilian deaths they’ve caused will be remembered to their dying days. History will tell if they are remembered as heroes or tyrants, but Beta and Seth have no interest in ruling over humanity as they take their first baby steps away from Mother. No, they’ll live alongside their friends and former foes in the aftermath of the war, falling with them, and standing right back up.

They’ll be proud of what they did. When they’re old and death comes for them at last, they’ll tell their children and their families, “This is how we lived.”

Their deaths won’t be noticed by most. They’ll slip away one night, and they’ll be buried without fanfare. Humanity is too busy with their own lives, making their own choices, rebuilding with their own hands and teaching their children their own stories.

And that’s fine, because this is how they lived, and this is how they’ll die.

The first species to achieve space travel was in fact tied with a second, but the “first” species managed to finish the first official station a few days earlier than the second. The first species was a serpentine race with six arms each, and two heads, and eventually they became known as oroborus, mostly on account of most species being better at languages than humans turned out to be. The second species resembled remarkably fluffy raccoons, with very long faces more akin to an opposum, and bits and bobs unique to them but without Earth comparison. These had a great many names eventually, but the most pronouncable across the board was akik.

The stations were named in native tongues of course, but eventually their name came to be Whisper Sanctuary and Ransom Mercy, respectively, and both of them would last a very, very long time, as it happened.

Shortly after getting into space flight, there was of course a minor war, after which the oroborus and akik called a truce in favor of exploring the universe together and thus, theoretically, more efficiently.

They discovered a great deal of extraordinarily boring planets, as one is wont to do in space flight, and admittedly did not perhaps think their reaction through upon discovery of a planet boasting not only life, but intelligent life.

Their excitement was understandable, certainly, but immediately sending a ship to make contact was generally agreed to be a hasty decision.

The planet they had found was 98% water, with a gravity reading more on par with a small moon than an average planet. There was a great deal of science behind that, of course, but the common takeaway was that these lifeforms would excel at space travel,being quite literally designed for low oxygen and low gravity situations.

Eventually, the humans would call them mer, which was just as well since, while they did well enough speaking other languages, it was a rare species who could mimic theirs.

The oroborus and alik got lucky, as it happened, for at the time most of their intelligent and/or powerful folk just so happened to be female and/or, most importantly, not male. The only males on the trip were delegated to remain on the ship, which was quite lucky for them.

As for the mer, they were quite intrigued by this strange new thing on their land (the ship having of course landed on the only viable landing location, not being equipped for water landings, having not anticipated a planet nearly entirely made up of water). No few of them had fled of course, but the warriors stayed, or even came out of the water to sniff at the vessel.

When the twelve diplomats disembarked, they were unaware that the bust of conversation that chittered and chimed around the mer went something like: “Great Goddess, what are those hideous things?” “Are those aliens? That’s awful, aliens are supposed to be gorgeous other genders, not weird females.” “We’ve certainly got plenty of weird females.” A short, playful scuffle, as was their inclination, as the others continued talking. “Are we sure they’re not food?” “Ha! Maybe they’re space delivery.” “It doesn’t look like a fallen star.” “It looks like a fallen bug.” “A giant one.” “Oh ew did you have to point it out? You know I hate bugs.” “I do know.” “Oh is that why she’s so skinny?” “Yes yes, there’s nothing wrong with her, just can’t stand the chitin. One of those mer who always picks the scales out of her teeth, you know how it is.” “The scales are the best part though!” “Ugh shut up, now I’m hungry, and that giant bug-star looks prime.” “Well why don’t you try taking a bit outta one’a these, hmm?” “Hm, maybe. Let’s see if they’re stupid first.”

That was hardly the only conversation going on, of course, but certainly one the diplomats would have found very interesting.

One way or another, the three species managed to negotiate a language, and when it was proposed that some mer join them in space, there were no few warriors quick to agree. They had been contemplating space flight and a great deal of other things for a very long time, after all, but due to the constraints of their planet their advancements were entirely biological. Which was fascinating certainly, for those advancements included long-distance communication and visual broadcasts and all manner of extraordinary things made wholly from cultivated plants and whatnot, but it was not unfortunately conducive to space flight.

And a number of generations after that, a little planet called Earth got itself into space, and found a thriving community waiting for them. Humans weren’t the only people whose planet was doing less than well, so already there were so many colonists and colonized planets that the job was, well, common.

But that’s not the story for today.

See the mers’ homeworld, Aiutskini, was always a very tempting draw for tourists. There was still no other world both almost entirely water and capable of supporting life without suits. They had made a number of locations targeted entirely at tourists, with glass tunnels and diving spots and other fun things. But as soon as they learned why the humans called them “mer”—well first they had a good laugh, and then they made the first “mermaid retreat.”

In the shallows of an island chain, mer in flowing garments that might be considered modest by the standards of a nudist, guided tourists around, showing off their beautiful wildlife, talking about their culture (carefully edited to avoid lying but as well not overtly ruin the silly image of “mermaids”) and all the while, in the deeper water, mer would casually swim by. And of course they mer were exceptional at creating the very best and most alluring tourist traps, so with strategic timing a mer would slip from the water, the scales of her bare legs stained and dyed stunningly green, wearing a vibrant red wig made of a substance that only somewhat resembled hair which ignored water completely, and of course the iconic purple shell bra—which was in fact two sculpted pieces of leather painted purple and double-sided-taped in place. The “Ariel” mer would proceed to wave to the tourists and, naturally, comb her wig with a fork.

That was so successful the mer red up on other mermaid and similar legends from Earth, and soon they had several other such “retreats,” named things like “Pirate Bay,” and “Seaman’s Getaway,” and, their most successful, “Siren Cove,” where terrifying mer proceeded to be extra terrifying.

It was a very lucrative tourist trade, possibly the most lucrative in the galaxy since, with only two percent of their world out of water, and all seafaring vessels strictly under mer-control, there was very little even the most awful tourists could do to their environment. Sure a few things went extinct, but not a significant number, and no significant species. There was no non-mer hunting (largely because they tended to laugh uncontrollably whenever they saw another species attempt to hunt in their waters) and only a very select few were permitted anywhere near any of their actual cities. So the mer got more reward, for less risk.

And now we turn to Marlin and Uriel, who would be happy to explain Aiutskini for your benefit.

Marlin hopped out of the water, wearing one of the odd leotards made with mer biology in mind, which meant it gave wide berth to both the scalloped gills on her neck, and the ridge of her short dorsal fin. She was a very pretty mer, which was quite common; most mer were considered very attractive. Marlin’s skin was brown, contrasting starkly to the white leotard and her orange and white scales. Her hair was piled atop her head in a crowd of braids, black with smudges of white and orange sporatically here and their. She turned around to offer Uriel a hand up.

Urirl was tiny compared to Marlin or, indeed, most mer. Short and delicate, she looked like a human woman in a very elaborate costume. Her skin was milky pale, and both hair and scales were soft pink with delicate tendrils of white. She took a more Ariel approach to clothing, with a plain bralette of white material tied gently over the ridge of her fin. A tiny pair of jean shorts dripped continuously, which she didn’t seem to notice except to tug them up when the sopping material started to slide off her slim hips.

Marlin lead the way to a set of chair made of living coral, which was quite content on land thanks to its many centuries of cultivation. The chair were padded with similar sponges, which covered the seat and back only to sprawl every which way in languid disarray. Marlin examined the chairs with a critical eye, before smiling and settling in more comfortably, satisfied no one had shirked in the maintenance of these. Not that anyone in her pod would dare; Marlin’s wrath was a legendary beast.

Uriel sat daintily beside her sister, tucking her thin legs up under her, briefly flashing the thick black soles of her feet.

Marlin politely cleared her throat.

“I hope you doubt mind my usual spiel, it’s easier is all, you see,” she said politely. “The first question we always get is our names. It’s very simple really; they aren’t really our names. We all have our mer names, which are so unpronouncable I won’t bother sharing them. And then some of us—most of us that interact at all with other species, that is—pick a name that is easy to pronounce and fits with our tourist image. It’s very in-style right now to have an earth-based name. Unfortunately our information is not always reliable; Teak was Teak for over a decade before we found out it was a type of wood rather than a fish. Uriel went a bit safer. She’s a regular at the mermaid retreats, so a name that sounded ‘mermaid-ish’ was the obvious choice.”

“I’m not the only Uriel, of course,” the mer in question piped up, smiling shyly. “But I’m the only pink one, so anyone requesting me by name can make it easy to figure out which Uriel pretty easily.”

Marlin nodded and, as promised, continued her ‘spiel.’ She dutifully explained that the majority of mer were water-bound, far from the islands of their only significant land mass (there were, naturally, a few sandbars and small islands scattered across the planet, not to mention ice at either pole, but those were very rarely mentioned). They lived in pods and cities and everything in between, and were as different between groups as any species. She dedicated a good few minutes to so-called “hair culture” alone. And of course she couldn’t leave out the second gender of the mer who were not, as it happened, all female.

“We’re not male,” she explained. “Males smell like food to us, though we try not to make a point of that with most of our tourists. But until we went to space, the only males we encountered were other species on Aiutskini, and all of them are, well. Delicious. The second gender of mer, those like Arapaima, are—well, they’re not unlike…females who produce asexually. Except not.” Marlin nervously rubbed at her fluttering gills. Uriel coughed politely.

“We’re not allowed to tell much about them. Ara’s probably the only one you’ve got any chance of meeting. We’re very protective of them, there’s never really enough of them, you see,” she explained uncomfortably. Marlin quickly changed the subject, steering the topic towards their grand, organic cities (underwater), and their symbiotic relationships with a number of animals (underwater), and their reef gardens and (underwater) jungles and (underwater) forests and—well, a great deal of underwater things. Even deserts.

“And that’s Aiutskini,” Uriel concluded happily. “We’re really just a big weird ocean. Nothing so interesting as those tourists think.” Marlin snorted but didn’t disagree. Of course. “How about we go get some grub? We’ve got all sorts of things. Fish that don’t taste like fish, stuff that’s kinda like earth seafood, all sorts of weird delicious things, I’m sure you’ll find something to love!”

Out in the water, eavesdropping shamelessly, Ara laughed. Lena grinned at her, and they both dove underwater, darting down far before where tourists ever saw, to their oh-so boring life under the sea, where creatures dwelled that no eyes other than those of mer would see.

Oh yes. Nothing interesting indeed.

It was dark.

She had never experienced utter darkness before - had thought the nights in Illdan were as dark as it could get.
She had been so wrong.
Her eyes had not adjusted yet, and she didn’t think they would, not here.
She had explored the cell hours ago, had touched every part of the walls, had tried to find a way out. After having walked around the room for what felt like ages she had to admit to herself that there probably was no way out except for the door she had been dragged through. Not that she could be sure, though; she couldn’t even see her hands in front of her eyes. There was nothing but silence and darkness.
Lys knew that what she endured was a popular type of torture. Knew, that if she did not get out of this cold, dark place soon she would go mad eventually.
She was not willing to give up yet - there was still so much left to do.
She was heir to the throne, now, and with that title came responsibilities. She had to care for her people, had to protect them, even though she had no idea how she could do that. That didn’t matter to her, though. She would at least try.
She would make it out of this cell alive and sane. She wouldn’t falter.
So Lys sat down in one of the corners, not wasting her strength on searching for an exit. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
Slowly, again and again. In the surrounding silence she could hear her own heart beating steadily.
She would use the time in the cell, she decided. Maybe she could come up with a proper plan - a plan to get her out of here and back home. Wherever home was. Was it the palace she had grown up in, and eventually forced out of? Was it Illdan, the place she hadn’t wanted to live in, but strangely had grown fond of? She didn’t know.

Lys thought of her life so far, of everything she’d seen, everything she’d experienced. With her imagination, she escaped the cell and flew over the world as she knew it.
She saw the palace with its hundreds of rooms and windows, the place she knew inside out. Saw the hill on which it was standing, the colourful gardens surrounding it, the capital at the foot of the hill.
In her imagination, she roamed the capital’s streets; saw the merchants and workers and children walking past; saw the doors that led to their homes: red, blue, green, large, small, ornate, bland. Lys entered the Temple of Life, the capital’s central point and best known building in the city, if not the whole country. Even when only thinking about it, Lys realised in the back of her mind, the Temple gave off a somehow soothing and strengthening aura that managed to fill every pore of her body.

Her thoughts drifted, and Lys once again took the long journey over the sea, to a strange and mostly unknown land. The climate changed - she could nearly feel the warm air caressing her cheeks, the stony ground reflecting the heat of the sun. She took in Illdan’s typical white houses, the palms surrounding the city, the high watchtowers near the city wall, casting long shadows. There were the large pieces of colourful fabric that were spread between the houses to keep off the sun; the small fountains spread all over the city, distributing drinking water; the morning market with people buying and selling everything one could dream of.
She could also see the villa slightly off the city centre - its still bright blue walls, the beautiful pillars at the entrance, the balconies leading out of the rooms. There was her room, exactly the way she’d left it: a half-read book on her huge bed, a couple of clothes hanging in her closet and a glass of water on her bedside table. It wasn’t very personal, yet it seemed very cosy and welcoming to her.

Lys realised, then. Realised that both her country and Illdan somehow were her homes now - no matter what had happened. No matter that only months ago, she had thought she’d never find a true home again.
She realised that there was a place in her heart that wanted to see them again, wanted to roam the streets, visit the Temple, talk to the people, haggle at the morning market.

The realisation filled her with a deep joy, a joy she desperately needed after months of not quite knowing where she belonged.

And despite the utter silence and the darkness of her cell, Lys suddenly felt at peace.

Rowyn - I love the way you approached this. :D The description of the way Brujword Forest acts to lose travelers was really cool (and a little spooky!), and I enjoyed reading about the characters who call the woods home. Great job! I hope that we get to read more about the forest’s inhabitants sometime - you got me hooked!

Celestine - Ohh, what a fun setting! I am, of course, a huge fan of rebellion type plots, so this really appealed to me personally. Aside from that, it was a very entertaining read! I hope that you write more about the Verja and her crew - it would be awesome to read some more moments from throughout the war.

Tsuzemi - The first part of your submission made me really miss winter, haha. Maybe Ash isn’t a fan, but I love that snowless part of the season where everything is dead. 8) I really liked seeing the differences between Alhea and Saol - they sound like very interesting places! Got me really curious about the world at large - I hope that you write more about it/set in it someday!

Knight - The amount of thought you’ve put into all of the different lands and cultures that exist in Har Fang! I loved reading about the various distributions of species and the geography of each area. :D It was like watching a nature documentary; I could picture the camera panning over each area as you described them!

Hyasynthetic - The idea of the known world being interconnected by phyiscal bridges is really cool! I love how you described the varying structures of the bridges depending on what the islands they connected to were like, and the breakdown of magic between the spellswords and the channellers is a really fun concept!

Chicken - This was a really fun history of space travel and the mer species in your universe. :D You certainly seem to have things fleshed out quite nicely, which is awesome! It’s always nice to see someone put so much love into their creations!

Losty - Man I just love the warmth and familiarity infused in this submission — the city, for all it’s frequent reputation for being cold and unforgiving, just feels so cozy… Especially when ordering a magic-laced coffee! Beautiful entry, Losty, I wish this were somewhere I could actually experience!

Arctic - Fantastic first entry, Lys! Reflecting on her previous homes from within the confinement of her cell was a really neat approach to this prompt — although I’m super curious now as to how Lys got here! Lovely descriptions and great characterization!

Azurrys - Your description of the shrine was so peaceful! I loved reading the interaction between Jaemin and Lisha — he’s such a good older brother, it warmed my heart. :) I could totally visualize their gentle back and forth, surrounded by the tranquility of the shrine… very idyllic. Feng may complain, but it seems like Yang shares the sentiment… I can’t blame him for enjoying such encounters occasionally!

DelightfulDragon - Oh my, the classic double-edged blade that is immortality! Outliving even one’s own home must be unimaginably difficult, although having someone to support and remind you surely helps. Even so, it sounds as though Orel has truly lost… the echoes of ancient magic cannot compare to being able to experience their source at least one more time.

Calibris - What an ominous setting!!! Henry would certainly be both intrigued by a bright, glowing tower, and equally alarmed at its dark, forboding surroundings. It actually suits the two of them well, in that respect! Denuthrain sounds very intense, and I’m curious to know more about her character… and the lurking threat of her ‘mother.’ Very cool entry — nice job!

Beta has grown up watching the sky, never dreaming he’d be able to one day soar through the starry expanse. Now we’re here, he thinks, pacing with his hands clasped behind his back along the Verja’s interior. This momentary peace is a far cry from his panicking the first few days after the then-leaders of Verja had kidnapped him and his classmates to start the push for freedom.

The transparent glass walls of the small spacecraft’s front deck do little to dim the brightness of the distant, shining stars just outside.

Verja is small, by modern ship standards. Outfitted with the latest technology, it carries within its hold enough might to destroy planets. After all, that is its purpose, or rather, was its purpose. Beta and Seth and their crew have come to learn the ship, to rely on it. But, it’s different from the rest of humanity, they tell those they meet in war and peace; they are the masters of the machine, not the other way around.

Verja’s -the team’s- mission is to destroy the interplanetary AI network “Mother” whose guidance humanity can no longer live without. Its reaches are vast, maintaining servers in every corner of the universe where humanity resides.

Beta and Seth have destroyed approximately 27% of Mother. In doing so, they’ve learned to take command of their own fates the same way they took command of Verja’s control system just nine years ago. The branch of Mother that had been installed into Verja was their “first blood” - now free to use Verja’s impressive arsenal at will, they’ve taken the fight to her. Life-detecting heat sensors that were once used to block missile lock-on engagement are now used to pinpoint the locations deep underground where Mother’s key servers are hidden.

Mother fights back, of course. AI was created to assist humanity, and it is programmed into her very core to destroy those who would invite chaos.

There are sacrifices. Beta and Seth both cried after their first real battle. And the second, but not the third. By then, they’ve grown used to the loss of life. Still, every human casualty, both innocents and the militia Mother sends after Verja, does not cease to weigh heavy on their minds.

They cry again only when their mentors sacrifice themselves to buy time for the Verja to warp out of a deadly trap. Verja’s first generation of leaders are gone, leaving Beta and Seth with a whole host of issues without answers and a plenitude of grief.

They are only human. There are times when they feel they can’t continue, there are times when they want to escape the life they’ve tied themselves to at too young an age. In the two years following the first generation leaders’ deaths, Seth’s golden hair has gone white with stress. Beta’s not in much better shape, but the two console each other with whispered dreams of what they’ll do once humanity is free, and soft touches amidst the hard realities of war.

Six more years pass.

They’ll return to commanding the frontlines, soon. Verja has grown from a handful of rebels to over a quarter of humanity. Mother cornered, her oversight waning as average, everyday people across the universe who know about Verja attack her many branches with their own two hands.

However, the most dangerous beast is the one backed into a corner. Mother has ceased to view Verja and its supporters as humans, and supporters of her system -the only way of life they’ve known for centuries- gather their strength and strike with fury.

More lives are lost. Clueless young recruits dreaming of glory and freedom, grizzled aging warriors who have been with Verja since the beginning. It’s the same on Mother’s side, since surrender, for her, is not an option. Chaos is the enemy of humanity, and she must eradicate it, no matter how many individual lives must be lost to restore order.

Another two years go by.

Beta and Seth know they’re close. Many among the opposition have laid down arms, and Mother is in her death throes. All they have to do is track down the last of her core servers, destroy it, and it’ll be over. Humanity will be free - confused, stumbling, and scarred, but free.

They know nothing can be offered to the loved ones of those taken by war - the many civilian deaths they’ve caused will be remembered to their dying days. History will tell if they are remembered as heroes or tyrants, but Beta and Seth have no interest in ruling over humanity as they take their first baby steps away from Mother. No, they’ll live alongside their friends and former foes in the aftermath of the war, falling with them, and standing right back up.

They’ll be proud of what they did. When they’re old and death comes for them at last, they’ll tell their children and their families, “This is how we lived.”

Their deaths won’t be noticed by most. They’ll slip away one night, and they’ll be buried without fanfare. Humanity is too busy with their own lives, making their own choices, rebuilding with their own hands and teaching their children their own stories.

And that’s fine, because this is how they lived, and this is how they’ll die.

Leigh Ann
Leigh Ann was so tired. She started a job this summer, working for a restaurant that floated on a lake. It had a floating bridge that lead to the land and kept the place from drifting away. She thought it would be a great little summer job; she was hired to wash dishes. However, she didn’t count on being one of the best worker there. They wanted her to be there at night to close. They said she was the only one to get the dishes clean and put away. She was also the quickest; no one had to wait on her. She also didn’t count on having to stand for 8+ plus hours, or the temperature rising to over 100 most days.
She had been working for five days straight. This would have made the sixth. Her feet throbbed as she lay in bed and contemplated life. Her shoulders ached and her back hurt. She felt like she could not move. Is it worth it? She asked herself as she dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. Her feet sent pain up her leg with every step. No, it’s not. She decided. She could not work another day, she needed a break!
She called her boss and told him that she had gotten the stomach bug. He, thankfully, believed her. She hung up and smiled to herself. She made her way back to the bed and flopped onto it. She was not going to move for the rest of the evening. As she started to drift off back to sleep, she felt the smallest amount of guilt over faking sick. She quickly pushed that way. Everyone deserves a break and she was taking hers.

luccamajere - Aww, this was really cute. :D I’m glad that Gem and Shade got to sneak out and have a nice day together! Blackberries totally beat homework anyway.

Hyasynthetic - Ooh, the descriptions of the masks in this were fantastic! Masquerades are such a fun backdrop/setting. :D Zephyr, Keidan, and Lyridius seem to have a really interesting family dynamic going on, too! I would love to see more of them in the future!

Jenny151618 - Ohh, job woes. I totally feel Leigh Ann’s pain, haha. Sometimes you definitely just need a break! It took a lot of guts for her to call in sick; I sometimes have a hard time doing so even when I’m actually sick!

Azurrys - Haha, this was a great read. :D I’m glad that Lucent got to put the Steward in his place! I’m also really intrigued by Lucent and his world. *o* Mage knights are an awesome concept, and I’m so interested in learning more about his status and the kingdom and everything!

[@-_- Espurr -_-] - Oo, Zwei’s style sounds really cool. I like the description of plasma hair, especially. I feel bad for whoever that person whose SOS she ignored though. D8 Poor random space person - hopefully someone else was nearby to help you!

DelightfulDragon - I love all of the info this prompt gave about Kotetsu’s canon universe — it really piqued my interest about the nature of the powers he stole, and just what consequences were at stake! I’m glad that, for the moment at least, all parties are safe and accounted for… but really want to know more about how this will affect Kotetsu & Ryu in the long run!

Oxton - Great entry about Arcana’s struggle with smoking — both the allure of the act (smoke and the stars was a particularly lovely image), and her reasons for wanting to break the habit. The ones we love are a powerful motivator for change, sometimes for better, and others for worse. I hope that the woman of Arcana’s affection is well worth the trial!

Cien - What a cool character concept! I’m very curious about Jack’s powers — do they permit him to bring truth from the gamble? O: His poor mother must be tired beyond her years. I’m glad he gave her some peace of mind for a time at least… although it sounds like he’s still a long way from breaking that gambling addiction.

Calibris - Oh gosh, I winced reading about Denuthrain’s (literal) fall! It sounds as though she has suffered so much. I hope that this new golden stranger is someone who genuinely wishes her well — she could really use a friend! I hope we get to read more about Denuthrain’s background in future entries. I’d love to know what events lead up to this point!

It was the same scolding every time: “Don’t do that again, Jack. You scared me.”

The same stern voice, the same hard expression, the same finger-wagging. Jack nodded solemnly at his mother, went to bed, woke up, and snuck out again the day after.

Sometimes he went a few days without using his power, but mostly, he just couldn’t help it. His mom had confiscated countless packs of playing cards, all stacked up in a box in her closet, but he just kept getting his hands on more - sometimes he’d beg them from friends, sometimes he’d work an odd job and buy them, and sometimes he’d steal them. He’d be getting smarter about it - when he had a pack, he’d use his power to get his hands on another deck and squirrel that one away in the lining of his jacket.

That was when he was twelve. Jack’s single mother only drank enough to get to sleep at night.

When he was sixteen, his mother couldn’t take the decks from him any more. She didn’t care, so long as he brought in food and alcohol.

He didn’t care, either. About anything. Jack told his mom that he had a job - that’s how he kept supporting them - and she didn’t care enough to think about it. Then he slipped out at night, a black leather jacket over a grey hooded jacket, with only a grin and a deck of cards.

Jack used to draw a card before he stepped into the bad part of town, the gold-pink glow of the mark on his hand lighting up the dark alleyways. When the card was good, a seven or above, he’d keep going. If not, he’d leave.

Then, he stopped. Where was the fun in knowing? The rush was better when it was unpredictable. The rush was better when he pulled a card with a gun to his head or a knife to his throat.

He was usually fine. He had good luck - he was cautious, he saved his luck, used it when he really needed it, got some good highs from danger. Brought home another bottle of whatever and some bread.

When Jack faced down the jagged-edged broken bottle, he grinned and flicked his wrist, cards from his deck floating up around his hand, face-down.

“Alright, punk, you think you can steal from us and get away with it?” The bald man across from Jack snarled, stalking forward in the grimy alley.

Jack shrugged, nonchalant. “Dunno.” He paused, letting the man get closer, then grinned. “Wanna find out? Let’s see what’s in the cards.”

With a practiced flourish, Jack grabbed the nearest card and flipped it over. Reversed king of hearts, and ... what? The card felt thicker than normal, and as Jack shifted it, he found a two of clubs stuck behind it. That was bad - the king of hearts was the suicide king card. With a yelp, Jack felt a pull of his power and suddenly the man was in front of him, and he just barely managed to lurch backwards as the man sliced the broken bottle at him. A sear of pain flared across the bridge of Jack’s nose, and he yelped, stumbling backwards and holding a hand up to his now-bleeding face. Another quick slice, but Jack dodged to the side. Something caught on his foot, then, and suddenly the world lurched around him.

“Not your lucky day, huh, punk?” The man’s smile was disgusting, and Jack snarled at him even as the man’s dirty boot planted itself on his chest. “Bye, kid. This is what you get for takin’ what’s not yours.”

The man swung down and Jack tried to roll to the side and then his neck was on fire, it was wet, all he could do was let out a choked scream and turned into a gasp, and his hands flew to his neck, trying to stem the bloodflow, his pulse was too loud in his ears, then a bang -

The man fell on top of him, then, and his shirt grew wetter and wetter, and breathing was getting so hard -

When Jack woke up, he was in the hospital. His mother was beside him, and a police officer was at her side. For his sake, she shot the thug. She saved him.

Jack’s mother pushed his hair from his forehead and gave him a kiss, lips brushing tenderly across his forehead. She touched the bandages around his neck gingerly and gave him a tired smile. “Don’t do that again, Jack. You scared me.”

Jack nodded solemnly, placed his hand over hers, and watched as the policeman led her out.

Jack was clean for a year.

Then he snuck out again.