#raymond illuveteris

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The Last Illuveterian - Part 6

CW: blood, murder, PTSD, weaponry, knifes

As soon as I awoke the next morning I put on a t-shirt with a hoodie, stretchy jeans, and some tennis shoes. I made my way down to the kitchen to find an already prepared breakfast for me. It was something that I was definitely still adjusting to at the time, but I ate what was provided, I needed the extra energy for sure. After eating I went back to the library, there was something I needed. “I need to learn how to use my magic,” I called out as I reached the table. A leather bound book appeared as I sat down. The cover read, translated, ‘Illuveterian Magic’, and the author was my father, which caused me to pause. I didn’t even know his name until I started doing research. Neither did I know my mother’s prior. Suppose that information isn’t usually handed out to small children in favor of the “mom” or “dad”.

Describing how exactly I trained my magic would be near impossible. It’s like concepts but they are tangible to a person. It certainly took many years, over many of which other things occurred. So I’ll just create a list of everything I’ve managed to learn so far, as I’m sure I’ll learn plenty more in the future.

I have learned how to teleport consistently.

I can monitor my energy levels easily.

Most recently I have figured out how to float which is quite fun

I can move my pocket dimension door as I please.

I found out that I have access to the Earth’s afterlifes and can access them as I please.

I have found a way to share my healing process with friends through soul sharing.

I can create these thorn-like spikes that jut from the ground and into whatever I please.

I can summon things from my pocket dimension and return them as needed.

I can “show off” my magic through blue flames that surround my body as well as heated fires from my body.

I can move things with thought now. I believe it’s called telekinesis.

I can look human, though only for a few hours at a time as it’s incredibly exhausting.

One I found out accidentally is if I happen to fall asleep or pass out in nature then animals seem compelled to “protect” me while I’m asleep and surround me until I wake up. That freaked me out the first time since I woke up to a cougar on top of me.

Another accidental discovery is that I can hear when anyone says my names so long as it is intended for me. Which essentially means I technically can be “summoned”, however I do have a choice on responding.

Unless I have a decent amount of food or energy drinks on me, I do have an energy limit for all of this, and some abilities are more taxing than others.

As soon as I had a basic grasp on how to use my magic, which took roughly a year and a half, making me 21 at the time, I decided to then practice hand to hand and weaponry. I went out to the void and had the pocket dimension lay out several options to choose from among the list were: Swords of varying shape, staffs, a variety of bows and arrows, hand scythes, and a couple full length scythes. I picked up one of the full length scythes. It came just short of my height and had a broad blade. Truthfully I just thought it was the coolest looking weapon of the bunch. Once I had that selected all the other close range weapons vanished and were replaced with some longer ranged options. The bows remained. So I’d be picking two to use. From the new group one particular weapon caught my eye as it was something I hadn’t seen before. A oblong piece of metal attached to a long rope. I picked that one up to examine it, but the others all vanished before I could return it. Meaning I had my two weapons: A scythe and a Meteor Hammer.

Learning to wield these was much the same as my magic, though arguably a bit easier as they didn’t take near as long. Of course working immediately with two weapons as such was also trial and error. Meaning I occasionally left practice a new, or multiple new small scars. And let me tell you, a solid chunk of tungsten hitting you in the head because you swung your arm half an inch too far to the left really hurts, and I’m lucky my bones can no longer break. About 4 years into this I felt sufficient enough in my abilities to move on. I wanted revenge.

I began my planning. There were a total of 8 men that had caused my hell. The pocket dimension gave me a newspaper that stated three of them had died in a farming accident. Unfortunate. Leaving 5 left, including that Matthew Collins. I spent a total of 12 days planning everything. I was going to take them out one by one and make sure they knew it was me. So within those days I practiced calligraphy and summoned a small scalpel. The plan with that was to carve my first initial into each of them, as fancy as possible. Just so they can feel a fraction of the pain they made me feel before they die.

I made my way to the first house. The judge. I knew he was home alone since I watched his wife leave for a “girls night” just prior. I sat outside the back door for several minutes, my pulse racing as I worked up my nerve. As I sat I thought about everything I went through because of this man’s callous decision. How much I suffered as a child for no reason because he refused to see past his own biases. A rage flooded me before it was overwhelmed with calm. Standing where I was, my face sat in a neutral expression, while anger burned beneath. My pulsed had slowed considerably and I gripped the scalpel. The scythe remained stored in the pocket dimension for the time being. The porch lights came on as I moved to the door. A small flick of magic fixed that issue and I was covered once more in darkness. It happened to be a new moon that night and the stars shown little. What was visible of my body emitted a small glow, though not near enough to illuminate anything around it. Similar to illuminated numbers on a wrist watch. Just enough to be seen and not something I could change. 

The darkness did not hinder my vision in the slightest, as it is common for many creatures to have good night vision. As I came closer to the sliding back door I could see easily into the house. The judge was sat facing away from me in the living room, close to the front door. The tv was on and the volume was quite high. He had no idea I was even there.

The door slid open and closed silently. I made each step carefully forward, though he never did hear me come up behind him. One simple touch to the back of his neck and he couldn’t move anymore. Frozen where he sat. I walked around the couch slowly, his breathing increased as he finally knew of my presence. I crouched a tad to meet his eyes.

“You-!” He started, panicked. I reached forward to put a finger to his lip.

“Shh,” I whispered. And he was silent. I could see his fear grow as he tried to both speak and move. Yet neither happened. “You brought this on yourself,” I continued as I scanned his form for a location to place the calling card. I wanted to touch him as little as possible and settled on the back of his hand.

I carved a meticulously detailed ‘R’. It had more lines than I cared to admit. It took a good few minutes to complete, and by the end the judge was a silent sobbing mess. It gave me joy to see him suffering as I had. Though he had it considerably better in those minutes then I ever had it. Once I was done I took the scalpel and made eye contact with the man. I had intended to be scary by licking his blood off of the blade. Most other monster species do eat humans so I thought it may taste good. However as soon as it touched my tongue I immediately gagged. It tasted foul and if I could physically throw up, I would have in that moment.

Fortunately for me, the judge was too busy blubbering in silence to notice any of it. I stored the scalpel away in the pocket dimension and summoned my scythe. It was comfortable to hold, and I was at ease knowing what I was about to do. With one swift motion I took his head clean off. Even then I did not falter. From my pocket I took a large paint pen and wrote “CORRUPT” in large lettering on the wood coffee table. I then stood to make my leave. I had no further need to be quiet so I simply teleported to the next man’s house. I repeated the same process for the first 4 of them, aside from licking the blood. Each kill went a little smoother than the one prior. Even for the man who had shot me through the head, I was unnaturally calm.

It was at the final house where I faltered. The residence of Matthew Collins. Though my face remained neutral still and rage continued to burn throughout me, it now mixed itself with panic. I approached the door, it was an old screen that I knew would make a lot of noise. My body shook involuntarily as images of his face flashed through my mind. It seems whatever calm had controlled me before was failing. I began thinking of everything I had gone through again. Anything that he, specifically, didn’t do to me. My shaking calmed and I steadied myself. I walked around the single story farm house and peered through each window. I finally found him through one. Asleep in a bed.

Instead of going through a window or door, which I knew would immediately wake him, I chose to teleport into the room. It made much less noise, almost none, even. I didn’t want him to look at me. Instead of using touch to paralyze him, I took out my meteor hammer. I wound up a swing and hit him on the back of the head. There was a very loud cracking noise and his snoring stopped. Red pooled around the metal and I quickly pulled it back. I took the scalpel and began carving the R on his cheek. Twice I dropped it, as I was shaking so bad. The finished wound was full of wobbling lines and jagged edges. I put the scalpel back and began pacing about the room. The scythe wasn’t enough for me, though I wasn’t sure why. I just wanted to be done and home. I wanted to take a hot bath and go to bed. Yet I remained in that house, and Matthew Collins remained alive. The faint aura all humans carried still flickered so I knew his heart was still beating.

All of a sudden his hand twitched and I jumped, which seemed to jump my body into motion. I moved without having decided to, and I made my way to the kitchen. I searched each drawer until I found it. A long kitchen knife, exactly like the one he had used on me. A new wave of panic fell over me, though I moved anyway. I went back to the bedroom and issued him the same torment he issued me, though it didn’t have quite the same result. 228 stab wounds. Unfortunately, on his massive frame, all his limbs remained attached. When I was done, I was tired and covered fully in his blood, tears flooded my cheeks. I fell and collapsed there, falling through the floor to my pocket dimension. To my delight, the bath in my room had already been drawn. The room smelled of perfumes, though the metallic stench of blood overpowered it seemingly with ease. 

Not bothering to disrobe, I climbed into the tub. Allowing myself to fully submerge beneath the water. So many emotions washed over me at that moment. Like whatever calm spell had been over me finally left. I was overcome with too many things. Fear, panic, grief, relief. All, of course accompanied by flashbacks. Visions of Matthew Collins, the smiling man, still managing to come after me. The only thing that kept me even slightly grounded through that was the feeling of hot water surrounding me. Other than that, I couldn’t seem to tell reality from the paranoia. This panic attack lasted for several hours until I was eventually just too tired. I slept under the water of the bath for a few days. The pocket dimension kept it warm and clean as I did so.

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Tale of the Last Illuveterian - Part 5

As a way to distract myself I spent the next few years learning and training. I found a way to summon my family’s entire library into the pocket dimension so I spent time learning my species by species' recent history. I only went back about 8000 years and skimmed to the present from there. I just wanted to know the basics, since I had nobody to teach me otherwise. The library itself can filter through the books for you if you give it parameters to look for. There were answers to one particular question that I desperately needed. So I sat up straight at the table I was reading at and asked it, dreading whatever answer may come my way. “Why didn’t I die?” It came out quite and shaky. A scroll appeared on the table before me, the edges were frayed due to age but it was in otherwise good condition. The text itself was in such an old form of our language that I could barely decipher it. It was a direct account from one specific member of our species. We called him “Mairmoryu Ickmosh” which in english means “Death King”, nobody knew what his actual name was as he never included it in any of his entries. I didn’t know why he was called “Death King” until I read his account at 19. I was probably just too young at 5. Yeah, that’s reasonable. I did manage to update the language in a notepad as I went just in case I needed to ever reference it in the future. It took several days and gave me a headache just looking over it. Here’s roughly what was said, It’s not exact but it’s as close as it’ll ever be.

Something horrible has happened. Everyone is dead. I woke up this morning to find the world around me in burning ruins. Ash coats the sky and the air and if I happened to breathe I would surely be suffocating. Everything is on fire. How I remain unscathed I do not know. Of the 256 of us, I find nobody alive, and I count each of their clothes left in piles where they stood. Outside of our village I see little through the ash. What I can see is destroyed. Bodies of the giants we roamed with lay charred across smoldering fields. Few trees continue to stand where there were once many. Everything I cared so dearly for has been torn from me. I will follow their suit and reunite with them.

His first entry ended there and and and there were faded blue stains along the bottom. From that I gathered that his color was either Red or a blend of Blue and Yellow as Green, since green as its own color didn’t exist until roughly 7000 years ago. Our blood color is directly contradictory to our body color so it’s easier to tell when we’re injured. Sunni and I were both Blue and as twins, we each have one of the optional colors. Mine ended up being Red while hers was Yellow. Another scroll appeared on the table and the one in my hands vanished. Here is what his second entry said.

I have tried many ways. No matter what I try, this cruel world refuses to let me leave and join my loved ones. Every option has failed me. I even tried jumping directly into the river of heat which came from the tall mountain. I woke up in my own bed, partially covered in burn scars, but alive. That was my final attempt, my body now entirely riddled with scars. All I do now is sleep, any time I wake up I injure myself to fall back asleep. I yearn for nothing else but my dearest family. I hope they are at peace. But that is something I will never know of, I suppose.

That was the end of the second entry. The next one was quite a bit newer looking, meaning it was written hundreds of thousands of years later. This is confirmed within the entry itself.

I have not kept records as my ancestors have done, and for that I am ashamed. I have spent all of my time these last 500,000 years allowing myself to do nothing but sulk in my own misery. However, I have now come to the epiphany that I must continue on with my life, make what I can of eternity. If not for myself, then to honor those lost within the disaster, of and not of my kind. The world is still covered with ash, but not nearly as much, and it no longer glows a haunted red of fire. Trees have begun sprouting where they once stood magnificently and small beings not dissimilar to the giants of old have made their way to the fields, now green once more. I will begin keeping meticulous records of everything, as was done before. Though my personal writings will stay separate. Things are looking up and I intend to try and keep them that way.

And he did keep meticulous track of everything going on from that point forward. He wrote about the evolution of species, keeping eyes on the more notable ones. One in particular that caught his eye were these small primates, noted to look vaguely like us aside from commuting on mostly all fours and were covered in fur across the whole of their body. That particular line of evolution ended up leading directly to you humans, which I found out a few years later when I decided to go back and read some of his records. The name given for your species from ours is “Keertoh”, though I suppose that holds little significance. His next entry was then several millions of years later, an exact timeline was not given, but comparing them to his other work, it closest resembles the scrolls that are now roughly 4 million years old.

I have unfortunately neglected to continue my personal writings however I hope my tracking of everything else makes up for it. These new curious beings I’ve been watching continue to look more and more like Illuveteris every year. They now walk upright like us and carry very similar proportions. Their hair is also reduced to majorly just the tops of their heads and some to their faces. I wonder if it is something they have consciously done, to look like us? Perhaps only time shall tell. I have decided that the world is now right enough to bring in the next generation. I have one small child and plan on having more. She’s an absolute joy and the light of my life. The skies are blue and animals of all sorts roam. I share the joys of bonding with my child and will do my best to make sure she knows her roots, as will all my future children.

His next entry is within the same time-ish. It’s written about 1000-1500 years later. He was not as good at remembering to write down his personal life as he was the records he was keeping. Though, I suppose technically it wouldn’t be anybody’s business to know his goings on, so I can’t find a reason to be angry at him.

I have ended up with 25 wonderful children, each growing into themselves as young adults. I enjoy watching them grow and discover everything around them. And I look forward to seeing where they each choose to go in their lives.

The next entry is his last one. It’s fairly short, and the final one is from his eldest daughter. I'll put them together.

Written roughly 10,000 years after: All of my children have each had their own, and some of my grandchildren have as well. Overall between all 4 generations there are now 354 of us. I have 25 children, 243 grandchildren, and so far, 111 great grandchildren. I have begun to watch myself age again, no longer do I look as youthful as my children, but now I begin to show lines of age. I am no longer so sure of what the future holds, but I am incredibly proud of everything I have built thus far. And I look forward to seeing what new future I behold.

My father, the longest reigning king, has passed of old age. I, his eldest daughter, am taking his place, and will be continuing his work. At the time of passing, 23 of his 25 children remain alive, 238 of his 243 grandchildren live, and all 457 of his great grandchildren are alive, with an addition of currently 24 great great grandchildren. He will have a ceremony held this upcoming spring to signify his reuniting with his family at last in our afterlife amongst the stars. He will be greatly missed. 

The final entry then vanished from my hand, returning to its place among the seemingly infinite shelves. Where it sits exactly, I’m not entirely sure. I spent days reading those entries in their entirety. Come to find out, I technically could make it so I could die again, but to do that I’d have to bring the population back up to “stable”. Not only am I currently far too young for that, with the current state of the world it will absolutely not happen, even if I were to feel ready. To bring children into the world to suffer just so I can move on would be incredibly selfish of me. It is something I will not be doing until things change. Which is what I set myself on doing once I was done reading. I stood from the table and made my way to bed. Swearing to start first thing the next morning.

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Fun Similarities

It has come to my realization that @partycoffin 's character Wally and my character Raymond have a few things in common!! They both have sentient houses

They both have a "sweet" side and an "evil" side, Ray's just being "uncaring"

They both seem fruity! (Ray definitely is)

They're both artists of a sort, Wally painting and Ray writing music

Neither are human

And both are connected with death of some sort

These are only a few, and Clown definitely has no idea who Raymond is but these were really fun to notice, and make me quite happy

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The Last Illuveterian - Part 7

CW: Panic attacks, PTSD, Self depreciation

I awoke with a start some time later, though, I’m not exactly sure how long. The water was still warm and clear. I was no longer covered in blood, and the floor was clean. I stood up and pulled the plug in the tub for the water to begin draining. I carefully peeled the soaked clothing off and wrapped myself in a warm towel which had been placed on the wall next to the tub.

Once I was sufficiently dry I went into the closet to get new clothes, leaving the other set in the tub to either dry off or vanish, it didn’t matter which occurred at that moment. From the closet I selected a pair of loose sweatpants, a baggy sweater, and a set of house shoes. 

The room seemed to swim around me, so I sat carefully on the carpet, leaning against the wall. I sat there for several minutes contemplating what I had done. I had just killed 6 people. The 6 people remaining that had caused all of my suffering. They were gone and I’d never have to deal with them again. I should have felt free, I didn’t. It didn’t feel like enough. There were hundreds. Thousands of people who thought, believed, acted, and caused harm exactly as those men did. Innocent people suffered at the hands of them. I suffered at their hands. And people continue to suffer. It wasn’t enough. 

Even though outwardly, I was calm, a powerful anger grew inside me as I continued to think about it. My reflection offered no emotion to my face. An energy coursed through me then, causing me to stand and make my way downstairs. I made my way over to the door that led to the woods. I gripped the handle and pulled open the door. As I peered through the endless shadowed forest the anger vanished, along with the calm. It confused me. That was the third time that had happened. And the first had been 9 years prior. I closed the door.

I went back upstairs through my room and into the library, sitting heavily into a seat at a table. 

“What is happening to me?” I asked aloud. I kept my gaze to the table, not even raising it when a book fell in front of me. I simply slid it over to me. The cover read “Colors and Personality Types”. There was a small piece of paper marking a page. I flipped to that section and the paper fell to the table.

The particular section I had flipped to was titled: Vitiligo types 1 and 2. Vitiligo? That was incredibly rare, and I knew for certain I hadn’t been born with it. As far I was aware previously, there was only “vitiligo”, and I had no idea there was one type. To be perfectly fair, I was very small, and all I knew is that some people had it. 

Vitiligo in our species is essentially a personality disorder, though there’s not really a diagnosis that humans have which would accurately describe it. It’s not usually anything bad. Most of the time if a person has more than one dominant personality type, the colors blend into their new colors. With vitiligo, they have two or more dominant personality traits, however they never interact or occur at the same time, meaning the colors stay separate. If you’re born with it, each color occupies 50% of your body and neither progresses further, as that is the maximum it can be. This is “Type 1” Evidently, there’s a “Type 2”. According to that book, type 2 vitiligo is when you develop it after trauma. This doesn’t mean it wasn’t always there, because it was. The secondary color just needs to be triggered by a significant event. Spots usually begin materializing in locations that are harder to see, meaning it’s more difficult to spot early. It then progresses over time until it reaches the maximum of 50%. The progression occurs each time an “episode” of that color is experienced, and the growth is determined by how long that episode lasts. Type 2 is apparently more dangerous, as suddenly a person becomes more and more unpredictable, and the secondary personality is usually one of more “self protecting” aspects. 

That is where I stopped reading. I dropped the book and ran back out into my bedroom and into the closet. 

“I need another mirror” I called out, staring at my reflection in the one. It expanded into another 4 mirrors, creating a half circle around me. I rolled up the right pant leg to the hip, what was left of that leg was clean. I did the same to the other side. The entire leg was good. I pulled off the sweater next. There was nothing on my one arm, and my chest and next showed nothing. Slowly, I turned at an angle. There, in the middle of my back immediately next to a scar, was a green spot, about the size of a quarter. I had vitiligo. My entire being began shaking and I fell to the floor. I felt ashamed. Like I was a failure. Blue and Green never blended. They were exact opposite personalities. It was the absolute worst combination to have. I threw the sweater back on quickly. I didn’t even want to think of its existence. I was curled up for several minutes in that panic attack before I fell. There was no heat from my body, but the floor gave way and all of a sudden I was on ornate obsidian flooring. The floor itself was warm, and the air around me had a dark ambiance.

As I sat up, I glanced at my new surroundings. The walls were a dark stone with gold accents. The room was lit with torches and candles, and the lighting was overall a red tone. There were a few tables in the room and several chairs. 

Dull clicks on the floor accompanied a tall woman walking in suddenly. I sat frozen on the floor. She was quite obviously taller than me by a good several inches. Curled horns stuck out from either side of her head and her hair fell in neat curls to her waist. Her skin was a dark gray and her eyes a shining orange. She was dressed in a long light purple dress, which had a slit up most of her leg. We stared at each other for several moments, and I’m sure my face mirrored the fear I felt. It felt like we were locked in that stare for eternity before she smiled and spoke.

“Hello, dear. I take it you didn’t expect to find yourself here?” She made her way to me, peering down. I couldn’t find the words to speak so I just shook my head. She continued, “Do you know where you are?” I shook my head again.

“This is Hell, my name is Lilith, and you’re currently residing in my castle. Here.” She knelt a bit and offered her hand. I took it and she helped me stand. I was still shaking and a bit wobbly on my feet. She placed a hand gently onto my shoulder to steady and I involuntarily flinched. I suppose it was the first genuine contact I had received that wasn’t accompanied with pain of some sort. This caught her off guard for a moment, but she smiled again and guided me over to a table, having me sit in one of the chairs. She sat opposite to me.

“What’s your name?” She prodded gently

“Raymond.” I answered, not daring to look her in her eyes.

“It is wonderful to meet you, Raymond.” She paused a moment before continuing “What are you, if I may ask, dear?” She lowered her head down to meet my gaze, and I shot straight up, my face flushing a deep blue.

“Ah! Sorry. I’m-- I’m Illuveterian.” I diverted my gaze again.

“Oh. Curious. I thought that’s what you were, however, I was under the impression that they went extinct a couple decades ago.” At that I slumped forward a bit. I hated thinking about the fact.

“Well, ah, I am the last one, as far as I’m aware. Everything I’ve read says I should be dead if I wasn’t completely alone.” I looked only at the floor. My face felt hot, and I was sure I’d start to break down if I looked any longer at her directly.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry to hear that darling, It must be a dreadful experience. Aren’t you a touch bonding species? How long have you been on your own?” She put her left hand on mine across the table, not taking a moment to care that it was made of metal.

“19 years. And yeah. We, um, we are.” I pulled my legs closer to me, and gripped onto the fabric of my sweatpants, my hands both shaking. She sat in thought for several moments, the quietness of the air was uncomfortable.

“Wait here, I will be right back.” She stood quickly and rushed from the room. It became entirely silent within moments of her absence, the clacks of her shoes against the floor fading as she went. My own thoughts clouded my consciousness, and I felt tears burn down my cheeks.

I was so absorbed into my mind that I didn’t even notice when Lilith had returned. She gently placed her hand back on mine and I jumped. On the table now were two mugs with steam coming from them. I quickly wiped my face and looked up to her.

“I am not sure if alcohol has any effect on your species, however I do hope you enjoy it anyways.” She smiled, and lifted one of the mugs to her lips.

“What is it?” I asked, pulling the other mug towards me.

“It’s a bourbon hot chocolate. I find them quite comforting on rough days.” I looked at the mug in my hands and carefully lifted it. I wondered for a moment if maybe there was poison in it, before I quickly shook my head to be rid of the thought. Even on the off chance that it had been poisoned. That wouldn’t do anything. Regardless of the immortality.

The drink itself was incredible. It was very warm and comforting. The flavors all mixed really well, and a strong calm immediately washed over me. A heavy sigh escaped me as I finally felt relaxed. It didn’t occur to me that I hadn’t felt that in days or months even, until that moment. The air around me went from feeling tense to calm and inviting. The red glow that most things in the surrounding room had now felt warm. It was nice to look at. There had to be magic ingrained in the drink.

“Raymond?” Lilith drew me from my thoughts.

“Hm?” I hummed in response, mid sip.

“I do realize that this is our first time meeting. But I feel bad you’ve been on your own this long. And you’re still a child. I would like to offer you something.” There was no malice in her tone. It reminded me of my own mother’s voice.

“Offer me something?” I set the mug down, hesitant at the question. “Have you been living alone all those years?” She pressed. And I tensed again. “Ah, since I was 16. I spent about 14 months unconscious and healing at first, that’s when I got my prosthetics. Then I was with a couple for about a year. They tried to adopt me, and were killed because of it.” I paused for a moment, questioning if I should continue. I don’t know why I felt so open to tell her, “Then I… I was sent to Nuemann’s Asylum where I stayed for 8 years. Then I escaped at 16. I live in a pocket dimension now.” It felt like some weight had been lifted from my shoulders. It felt good to talk about it, and it certainly didn’t seem hard to trust Lilith. It was like talking to my own mom, easy to do. Though I wasn’t entirely sure why I was suddenly so willing to be open. Definitely magic in the hot chocolate.

“Well, dear, I have plenty of empty rooms sitting here in my castle, and nobody to use them. Despite human rumors I am not the mother of all monsters or demons. I only have 7 children, and though they live at home here, I have plenty of room. All but one are grown.” She then paused, as if pondering the best way to ask, “Who were your parents if I may ask?”

Of course she could ask. She was Lady Lilith, queen of Hell. I felt obligated to answer, though no anxiety followed, “My mother was Queen Adulia, and my father was Prince Signe.” That was the first time I had said their names aloud. I had read them in the records, but never put voice to them. It was odd not simply referring to them as ‘mom’ or ‘dad’.

“Given the current circumstances. Doesn’t that make you ‘King Raymond’?” I pondered the question. I had never put thought to it. I was the last in line for the throne, and was never supposed to receive it. I didn’t really want it, and  in my opinion, my eldest brother, Sage, was the best fit, though he wasn’t here any more. I had never received any formal training on royal duties, and with no kingdom to rule, I didn’t know what there even would be to do, or where I would begin.

“I suppose. In a technicality.” I paused, continuing to think, “I was never supposed to be King, and I don’t know how to be one.” I picked the mug back up and took a long sip.

“Well, I could certainly teach you how to do that. I think you’d get along quite well with the youngest of my boys. You’re pretty equivalent in Age. His name is Beleth. I would introduce you now, however he’s off doing training with his legions.” She noticed that I was focused primarily on the hot drink in my hands. “How would you feel about perhaps living here, in Hell? Maybe part time if you still wish to reside in your pocket dimension as well. It is entirely up to you, dear.” 

I thought about it for several moments. I barely knew Lilith, yet I felt as though I could trust her with anything. I took another sip and answered her, “Part time sounds nice.” She smiled, and stood, offering her hand again.

“Then let's get you a room picked out, Little King.” She pulled me to my led me down the hall, the half empty mugs left abandoned on the table. 

Each room was more magnificent than I had become accustomed to, though they certainly had a familiar feel. Lilith’s castle was far larger than the one my family used to reside in. Though, I suppose there is infinite room in hell for a castle of such size. The fact that I was walking around in a human afterlife hadn’t even fully registered yet. And it didn’t until several hours later. Eventually we came upon a room that she deemed as perfect. It’s not that I was being “picky” before that one. She just seemed absolutely determined to give me the best one in her mind. I wasn’t one to object.

The “perfect” room she had selected for me was very nice inside. There was a sizable fireplace on the back wall, a bed which appeared to be even bigger than my own, and several comfortable chairs. A couple of the walls contained floor to ceiling bookshelves, which sat empty for a few minutes until they slowly began filling. Each book just appearing from thin air.

“It knows what books you like, or what books you might like, and it’ll fill with those. As your taste changes, so will the shelves.” I spent several minutes looking through them, glancing over some titles. Some were even written in Illuveterian.

An ornate oaken door then appeared next to the bed, visually standing out quite a bit from the rest of the decor, being lighter in color. 

“That door is now connected to your pocket dimension, so you may come and go as you please. This is your home now as well, so you are welcome at any time.” At that statement she wrapped me in a tight hug. It definitely caught me off guard, but it wasn’t bad in any way. It was the first hug I had received in so many years, and I’m a little embarrassed to say that I melted into it quite a bit. She was warm and smelled of lavender. That hug lasted for several long moments before she let go. She cupped my cheek in her hand as she smiled. 

She motioned to the door that had appeared near the bed, “I would wager a guess that your pocket dimension has missed you. You’ve been here for some time now.” Time hadn’t even occurred to me at all, but she was right. From the time I had fallen to that moment it had been at the very least, a few hours, likely quite a bit more.

I nodded and made my way to the door, putting the knob when I reached it before then looking back at Lilith. “I’ll come back,” I promised. The time I had spent with her had made me feel significantly better than I did on my own.

“Whenever you wish,” She agreed, with a slight bow of her head. I turned my gaze back and made my way through the door. It was my living room. There were no lights on, causing everything to be shrouded in shadows. I could see that this new door was placed exactly opposite the door which leads into the human world, and right next to the doors which lead out to the void.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, the fireplace erupted in bright flames. The jukebox which I had placed under the landing of the stairs started playing loud music, and the lights all immediately came on. I will admit I was sufficiently startled, and nearly fell back against the door. After I had caught my balance I looked around at everything.

“Well, you’re certainly a bit more sentient than you let on, aren’t you? Did you miss me?” The fireplace once again lit up, tall flames reaching the top of the hearth, “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” The music from the jukebox stopped playing and the fire returned to normal. Something then occurred to me. “Do you have a name?” The fireplace shrunk to mere embers. 

“A ‘no’ then. Would you like one?” The fire grew once more to touch the hearth, bursts of static coming from the jukebox. The energetic reaction made me laugh. It was the first time I had honestly laughed since I had lived with the Millers, and it felt freeing in a way. Knowing that I felt better enough to the point where I even could. It was nice. Once I had calmed down, I sat on the couch.

“Well, let's pick you out a name. I need a notepad and pen, please.” Both objects appeared on the coffee table in front of me. I leaned forward and began jotting down some names. Just any off the top of my mind that sounded nice. Once I had filled the page, I sat back, holding the notepad and looking over the list. The first name caused me pause. I certainly didn’t remember writing it. ‘Sunni’ sat at the very top of the list. I quickly grabbed the pen and scribbled it out. I love my sister, and I love the memories of her. But the thought of giving the pocket dimension her name hurt too much. We would have shared the pocket dimension if she was still around. Just as we used to share a Soul Space. We were of the same magic so it would have been both of ours. I moved onto the next name.

“Okay, you give me a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on the names, okay?” The fire grew, “Great! Onyx?” The fire almost completely disappeared. “Alright, definitely not, then. Marlo?” Once again, fire was nearly gone, “Arbor?” No fire, not even embers. I skipped the similar names, landing on one about halfway down the page, “Evryn?” The fire sat neutral for a few moments, pondering. It then grew quickly to touch the top of the hearth. 

“That one? You sure? Do you want to hear any others?” It shrunk down to a dim glow, “No? That was a bit quicker of a process than I thought it’d be. Evryn it is, then.” I tore off the page and tossed it into the fire. It vanished quickly. I went up the stairs and fell promptly onto my bed, exhausted from the day’s events.

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Drawing of Callum I received in an art trade with Ashes!

He’s just so adorable!! Sweet little doe-eyed boy 🥺

Their insta: https://instagram.com/_ashesssss_?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Their tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@blue_ashes129?_t=8cc1EMYCjIU&_r=1

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Just a fun little non canon au that I love to pieces: Naga Raymond!

This precious cottagecore boy “stands” at about 6ft with between 10-15 ft of tail in addition. He lives up in the mountains of Maine way out in the woods. He has a lovely little cottage with butterfly gardens and raised vegetables beds and fruit trees. He sells the produce he grows and pastries that he bakes at the Midnight Market where the customers are all other monsters.

With his body being so warm he keeps some of the pastries stored on his tail so they can be sold warm. He has a little pop up booth and totes his cart with his tail.

He is fluent in Spanish as there’s a good amount of primarily Spanish speaking monsters that attend the market nightly and he wanted to make their experience more pleasant. This also means that there are dozens of monsters who have “adopted” him and hold him very dear. Including a 10ft, very scarred werewolf named Alejandro, and a small chupacabra grandmother named Rosa. (There is a silent agreement among all the other monsters that nothing is to happen to Raymond and if anything does the responsible party will pay. He is just so kind to everyone).

At home he sleeps in one of these swings as his bed. Covered in blankets and pillows:

And he also has a couple of these on his porch because they allow him to curl up for naps

He is not quite as traumatized as his original legged counterpart, particularly noted by his lack of scarring and having both arms intact.

He does contain several little snake quirks like the little tongue flicking. And additional quirks such as the tip of his tail wagging when he’s happy or excited.

Outside of those he’s quite similar to regular version of Raymond, but he’s such a sweetheart, I love him so much and wanted to share the precious boy

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Raymond why are you so cute and handsome and a h

And a what?

And a what, anon??

Thank you, I am so confused!

-Ray

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I saw this

And saw someone else draw their character in it. So behold: Raymond

Obviously I wasn’t satisfied with JUST his regular form. So I also made one for his human form:

He’s pretty

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LOOK AT HIM!!! Art done by @dudewheresmycock go check them out!!!

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The Last Illuveterian - Part 1

Content Warnings: gore descriptions, death, blood, harm of children, food descriptions.

First Person POV: Raymond

I must begin my story by stating that I am the last of my kind. And because of that, as well as other reasons I will get into shortly, I cannot die. It is a fate I would never even begin to wish upon another being, as it is endless torture on one’s body and mind.

My species carries the name Illuveteris adopted from the Latin phrase “illi veteris lucis” or “those of old light” used to describe us by the humans of old. Though our species existed much before the evolution of Homo sapiens, I don’t know why a name had not been chosen or whether or not a name had even existed before that point; I could never find a reason in any of the texts I read over. Now, before I delve into how I became the last of my kind, and what led me to kill hundreds, if not thousands of humans, I should tell you a little bit about my species so that later occurrences make sense. It will seem like a whole lot of nothing, but it feels important to get out of the way so no inconsistencies occur. However, feel free to skip to the story.

As far as physical descriptions go: think of a glass frog when imagining this, being see-through and all. I do not look like a frog, nor am I shaped like one, it’s just an easy visualizer to begin. We actually look quite similar to humans in terms of shape and proportion. As far as we can tell, our most basic structure of a skeleton is either near or outright identical, however there are plenty of key differences. The most noticeable being the fact that the Illuveteris do not have any organs internal or external, in any sense. The food we eat is instantaneously completely transformed into energy. So, there is no waste needing to leave. And our young come from growing them through magic, sort of similarly to budding, between partners. We also lack the presence of “skin” as it’s known in others. We do have a flesh that encases our bones and lack of organs but the colors range and it’s entirely transparent. The different colors signify different personality traits. My color is important to the story so I will elaborate on those.

The color of one's body tells how they will act throughout the majority of their life. It doesn't mean that someone will always “act their color”, but it summarizes their entire future. There was often a pressure in my society to fully live up to your color, or to fully act the opposite, depending. Red means “honest”, often to the point of detriment. Orange is “gentle natured and calm”, in almost any and every situation. Those with orange bodies are often raised and trained to be decision makers. Yellow means “optimistic” and often end up as entertainers or the creative crowd. Green means “cold natured, un caring, emotionless”. Many were pushed to act as if they were any color but green. Purple means “loyal”. Those who were purple often stood up for those closest to them, sometimes putting themselves in harm's way. Blue means “Big hearted”. They often became knowers of medicine or therapists.

My color is, unfortunately, mostly blue.

Having a lack of organs, or “vital” body structures did not mean that we were impervious to harm. Our bodies are made of a physical condensed magic. We could very much still die. And many of us have. Back before the “incident” by several decades there was a small war waged between us and some other magical species, leaving our population to only about 160 members. I will stop the descriptions here. I have a couple candid photos of myself I took fairly recently, originally intended to document my scarring as I gain more and vitiligo as it spreads; however, they can act as a visual for how most Illuveteri looked, should anyone actually be interested.

How do I know that I’m now immortal? Well, several reasons, actually. Firstly, because of the things I have survived which should end life through mortal injury. I watched someone die of the same injuries I obtained shortly prior to me being the last. Secondly, I went back and read as much ancient text as I could as soon as I was able, and as soon as I located the records of the last time there was a single member of our kind left. This took many weeks of searching the expansive library. Roughly 64 million years ago was the last and only other case of a single member being left. That number probably sparks memories of certain mass extinctions. The texts were all written in the oldest forms of our language. We are all born knowing it, yet like any language, it evolves and meanings change. So making out exactly what they said was completely impossible. What I could piece together is that the magic our body is made of is sort of its own being in a way. But only partly. And it’s apparently a little bit slow as it only realizes something is incredibly wrong once there's only one life force left. If only it had noticed at 2. However, I digress. I’ll move on into the actual story now.

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I was born in the year 1930 in a castle heavily surrounded by the 17 and a half million acres of forests hidden in Maine. My mother was the queen of our kind. She was always busy, but often pulled away from her duties to bond with her children; and my father, her royal assistant and lead magic researcher. He had a little more free time. Technically, all of my siblings and I were born to him. I had 4 older siblings. My oldest brother, Sage, 68; My sister, River, 46; My sibling, Briar, 27; and my twin sister, Sunni. We may have been twins but the entire family used to swear up and down that she was born first, making me the youngest. 

The first part of my childhood I was spoiled, and I lived well. All the children had human nannies that had been hired to help raise us while our parents were busy. The nanny Sunni and I had was a hearty black woman from Louisiana named Cecelia. She made the best foods I’d ever eaten, and I’d give anything to see her again today. 

On July 23, 1936, the day of mine and Sunni’s 6th birthday, there was an extravagant celebration commencing. Generally around the age of 6 is when Illuveterians begin to gain access and control of our magic, so it is deemed as a very important day. Massive festivities covered the yard and lavish food adorned tables covered in decorations. Both of us were dressed in ornate robes that had been made and set aside for this specific day, and atop our heads were small crowns, each designed to fit our exact specifications and desires. Cecelia had made several of our favorite dishes; jambalaya, etouffee, beignets, the list goes on. I’m glad I got to enjoy the food that day. It remains the only speck of happiness within a memory shrouded in horror. I cannot enjoy that summer's day anymore. All I seem to be able to force myself to do is mourn those lost once it rolls around every year.

My mother came to check on us as Cecelia finished the fastenings on our robes and made sure that our crowns were positioned so they wouldn’t fall off at any point.

“Thank you, Cecelia, for all the work you’ve put in for today. They both look stunning.” My mother smiled at her.

“Ma’am, you know these two mean the absolute world to me. I’d do anything for them.” Cecelia bowed her head slightly. My mother hummed gently.

“I see that Raymond is wearing River’s old crown. It looks nice on him.”

“River said I could!” I called back, hugging onto my mothers dress. I wasn’t anywhere near tall enough to reach anything further.

“He insisted on wearing it.” Cecelia chimed in, “Said it was so pretty and he wanted to wear it for their birthday.”

“Well, so long as River agreed to it, then there’s no issue. Now, I believe it’s time for dinner.” My mother smiled again, putting a hand on both of our heads. Sunni and I ran off to the dining table, being sure to take our seats as quickly as possible.

We had eaten well and played many games. It was just as we were getting to the cake and presents that events kicked off in the entirely wrong direction. I remember I had just taken the first bite of my slice of cake when a guard hurriedly walked forward and whispered to my mother. A look of worry covered her face and she rushed out the door. I turned to Cecelia for an answer, which was met by a smile and a hand on my back. I kept eating. It was a coconut cake paired with pineapple ice cream. The thought of those flavors make me feel sick nowadays. I was 3 bites in when I heard a scream. It was my mother’s. I looked over to Sunni and saw she had also heard it and was visibly scared. Several of the guests began to panic. Every guard in the room took off running in the direction the scream came from. My father was with them. Several loud popping noises sounded nearby. At the time I didn’t know what they were, but now I know very well that they were gunshots. Cecelia took the plates from our hands and set them on the table, picking the both of us up and walking quickly into a nearby bedroom - her own. Admittedly, she was probably a little rougher than she meant to be. As soon as we were within her room she shut the door, and I heard the lock click. She ushered the two of us into the closet, motioned for us to stay quiet, kissed each of us on the forehead, and closed the doors. Through the tiny gap left between the doors I could see her rummage through the bedside table and pull out a large kitchen knife. I remembered having seen her cook with it and wondered when she’d stashed it. She then pushed the dresser in front of the door. Its legs scraping against the wooden floor were loud. From within the closet I could hear more pops ringing out. Several people were screaming. I remember a few of the screams being abruptly cut off. Sunni was crying and I am certain I was as well.

Cecelia sat herself on the edge of the bed, right in front of the closet, yet facing the door. She had such a grip on the handle of the knife that her knuckles were white, a stark contrast to her complexion. I saw a tear roll down her cheek as she grit her teeth. She looked over to the closet and smiled. It was forced and fake, but she was trying her best to keep the both of us calm. It felt like hours before nothing more could be heard. Though, it was probably only minutes. The door handle rattled furiously as someone on the other side tried to open it. They then threw themselves against the ornate oak. It was sudden and the breach of the silence caused me to jump. Sunni whimpered and covered her mouth. The banging continued. Cecelia shook as fear encompassed her person. She stood and pointed the knife to the door, though she looked like she might collapse at any second. Her face seemed to pale to an ashen gray. I, at least, had assumed that it would be too sturdy to be broken through. I learned very quickly that I had assumed wrong.

The wood of the doorframe splintered, loudly cracking as the lock gave way, the door slamming into the dresser, leaving barely an inch of view. I could hear a deep and gruff laugh. It sounded as if whoever it had come from had been smoking for the majority of his life - and I’d bet he had. Once he had the door busted from its lock he simply pushed against it to move the dresser. And once again that awful sound of its legs scraping the floor sounded out. Cecelia was frozen for a moment. I could not see who she was looking at but his footsteps were thundering. Within moments a very large figure towered over Cecelia, blocking nearly my entire view of her. She came back to her senses and swung the knife at the man, who easily dodged and ripped it from her hands. He grabbed her hair with one hand and she let out a cry of pain. He lifted her near effortlessly off the floor to be eye level with himself. 

She held his gaze, refusing to look at us. There was a stubbornness in her facial expression. In pain and imminent danger, yet continuing to protect us. He took the kitchen knife and plunged it into her stomach, dropping her to the floor right after. Unbeknownst to me, Sunni had stood over me to peer out, and she let out a gasp. That was all the indication the man needed. He made his way over to the closet doors, a crimson puddle forming around Cecelia as he did so. He did not throw the door open violently, instead choosing to slowly pull it open, peering down at us with an ear to ear grin on his face. He knelt down to where Cecelia’s body had fallen and removed the knife from her abdomen. He then crawled back over to the closet and began his seemingly endless shower of stabs. I turned away from him in an attempt to cover Sunni. As I did so I saw joy in his face. As I was the closest to the door I took the brunt of it all. The world was silent. I remember crying and screaming, but not hearing a bit of it. At some point I opened my eyes to look at Sunni. She was sobbing. My gaze fell to the floor as I was unable to keep my head up. As I did I felt the knife wiz through my hair just over my head, knocking my crown off. When I looked back up I saw the knife being pulled from Sunni’s face and ripping backwards across my left shoulder. I watched her body crumble and fade to nothing, just leaving her robes in a pile on the wood, covered in my blood. Her crown lay now atop it all. I yelled out for her. I yelled to nobody. That was the point I was officially completely alone. The last of my kind. The man had not stopped. I felt the knife then go through the back of my head a few times. The blade was long enough for it to go all the way through and out my forehead.

I felt a heat then envelop the whole of my body. It was as if molten metal coursed through me.. I had seen those older than me experience surges of magic, but never had I thought to imagine what they may feel like. It was quite an unpleasant feeling. My body at the time was not ready to handle such energy. I could see blue flames spouting out of every wound; yet they seemed to almost be just simple projections to the air around me, as they, themselves, seemed to produce no heat. It was then that my hearing came back as I heard the man behind me yelling out in pain. I could smell the sickly sweet scent of burning human flesh. It was overwhelming. The heat swelled hotter and hotter until a bright flash of white surrounded me. A void of nothingness. This, however, lasted only for a brief moment before I could feel myself falling. My body landed hard against a metal, grated floor; and the sound it made rang through a seemingly endless corridor. As my vision slowly faded out I caught a glimpse of a paper that had fallen off a table next to me. All I could make out on the page was ‘Dr. Z…’. And then all I knew was darkness.

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I wanted to show off Raymond’s human form in a couple posts since it was officially mentioned in Part 6

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Tale Of The Last Illuveterian - Part 3

CONTENT WARNINGS: extremely dark, medical procedures, extreme injury, blood, verbal and physical abuse, mentions of SA, imprisonment. Read further at your own will.

I went from that courtroom, still in the hospital gown, straight to that damned asylum. I never got a proper goodbye with the Millers. I stayed at Saint Neumann’s until I was 16, which is when all hell broke loose and the asylum itself was shut down.

Neumann’s Asylum was shut down when I escaped. The amount of manpower they rallied up to try and find me raised suspicions amongst those in town who didn’t know I existed. Which then sparked an investigation. It wasn’t closed due to the “regular” mistreatment that you hear about from most mental hospitals in the 40s. That was pretty publicly known. However, behind closed doors, the staff at Neumann’s did so much worse. Some of the patients with higher function would be killed and sold to universities as cadavers. Just enough to not raise an alarm. Their families were often told that they simply run away and weren’t found. A lot of the young girls and some of the young boys would be kept and temporarily “rented”. But the doctors kept their favorites.

I, personally, was sold as something else. The men who had killed my family and left me as I am became “customers” to the asylum. And I wasn’t the only patient they came to see. That, I’m sure of. Initially they did try to.. Use me that way. If it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t have any organs at all, then I’m certain they would have. I suppose I got lucky in that sense. After they discovered that they couldn’t defile me with that they turned to other methods. There was once when they took me outside to the yard. I don’t like that memory. When even what they did that time didn’t kill me, I was dragged inside by the collar of my shirt and up to my room where I was left to bleed, alone. I am grateful I fell unconscious shortly. Another patient informed me once I’d awoken that the nurses didn’t take kindly to me “dirtying the floor”. I was out, that time, for 10 days. And I woke up with a new, circular scar on my forehead.

That part is incredibly difficult to say and evidently also really hard to type out. I think I’ve only ever told one person about what happened to me and the others in that place. I haven’t seen him in a few days. Off doing his job I suppose. Maybe we’ll bump into each other soon.

I spent most of my days in isolation. My room was placed on the very top floor and locked from the outside. They didn’t hardly ever feed me, though I didn’t suppose they had to. I get all my energy from sleep which was just about the only thing I could do. The only time I ever interacted with any other patient was the few times they did give me food, or walking through the hallway to “appointments”. All of my visits with the doctor, if you could even call him that, were pure torture. He had taken note on how seemingly nothing could kill me and decided that he would personally do whatever he could to create immortality. Which, with what was their current technology at the time, consisted of taking pieces of my body and experimenting on them. I was never allowed any anesthetics, though I don’t know if they would have even worked if I was. To them, since I wasn’t human obviously I couldn’t feel pain. And if I showed signs of being in pain, that was good. Because I was “of the devil and from hell” according to them. The doctor would mostly use already scarred areas, however he was not opposed to leaving me new ones.

Though all of that did have quite the toll on me physically and mentally. There was one consistent thing that I now consider to be worse. All the staff did their damndest to gaslight me into believing my entire life was a lie any chance they interacted with me. I was repeatedly told that I was 100% human. Anything different that I saw was a hallucination. My family was never killed and, in fact, had been the ones to place me into Neumann’s care because I was crazy. Though they used more colorful language. If I brought up the doctor’s words, they’d tell me he’d never said that and I was receiving normal check up appointments. If I pointed out my prosthetics, I was told that it was just a normal human arm. They kept that up the entire 8 years I was there. Even now sometimes I look for long periods of time into mirrors to check for any inconsistencies. Occasionally I would catch a nurse praying or holding onto a rosary when I was nearby, and that assisted a bit in reassuring me that I knew who and what I was.

One thing I was absolutely not allowed to do was touch anybody of my own volition. Considerably a bit more mild than everything else that went on there. But my species’ primary form of bonding is through different forms of touch. So it was a bit of a big deal for me and I still suffer the repercussions of it today.

What finally broke me occurred when I was 16. I was escorted down to the second floor, which is where the doctor's main examination room was. That was not the room I was taken to. It looked much different inside than the other one. In this room was a chair in place of a table. There were straps located on the chair in several spots, far more than would be expected as well. Ankle, thigh, wrist, one for the lower abdomen, one for the upper and around the shoulders, and then one final strap for the head. I turned to look at the nurse who had escorted me.

“Sit,” she instructed. I turned to look back at the chair. I suppose I just didn’t move fast enough for her because she struck me across the face and repeated herself, “I said sit!” I then did as instructed.

Another nurse came in at that point and they both began strapping me in, beginning with that lower abdomen strap. I knew where I was at that point. I remembered seeing patients enter and leave the room a few times. They were always incredibly different after whatever happened in that chair. No longer could they walk or so much as speak. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. After the nurses had completed all 9 straps they left the room. Each piece of fabric was rough and felt far too tight, the metal buckles digging into my body. The edges were sharp. I couldn’t move in the slightest, any attempt made was met with the buckles cutting into my arms or legs. I was alone in that room for hours, bright fluorescent lights shown directly onto my face and closing my eyes did little to help. I could feel my soul beating out of my chest and tears poured down my face. I just wanted whatever they were going to do to be over and done with already. 

I heard footsteps outside the room and the door seemed to scream as it swung open. The doctor now stood in front of me, a deceptively ‘sweet’ smile on his face. I couldn’t help but compare him to that ‘Matthew Collins’ any time I saw him. I made eye contact with him and his smile grew. I involuntarily whimpered when it did. He definitely enjoyed doing this to patients, considering how often he chose to do it.

“Well, young man, the lovely nurses here have brought it to my attention that you’ve become increasingly troubled as of late. I know your friends haven’t visited you recently so I’m sure that’s brought you down.” At this two nurses came into the room with a small rolling cart covered in various tools. The doctor regarded them for a moment before he continued, “Well there is a small procedure we’ll be performing today that will cure you permanently. It’s only about 10 years into practice, but it has worked wonders for all of my patients, so I am confident it will work wonders for you, boy.”

I averted my eyes to the table. I didn’t want to look at him and it was within view. On it I saw three things. A small hammer with a long handle, A spike of equal length that had what looked like a T-shaped handle, and a pad of gauze that was neatly folded.

“Now the way I normally do this isn’t really possible,” He brought my attention back to him, “Your facial structure is quite different from other patients so I will need to go about this in a new way. However, I am fully confident that the change will make no difference.” He took a few steps forward so he was standing immediately next to the chair on my left. “Now, let’s begin, shall we?”

He picked up the long spike and showed it to me. “This is really sharp, so you shouldn’t feel much, not to worry.” I was very much worrying. He placed the point just above and to the right of my left eye. I tried my best not to focus on it, however it took up half of my vision so I didn’t have much choice. My vision was cloudy with tears once again as I saw him reach back and grab the small hammer. I could feel my body shaking and the buckles cutting deeper as he lined it up and drew it back to strike.

The sound and pain rocketed through my skull. It felt as if lightning had shot through me and sounded like something exploded within my head. The doctor drew the mallet back again. When he struck again all I could hear was ringing. Nothing else was audible to me, though I could feel myself screaming. Once he was satisfied that he had the spike far enough through my head, he began to move it. That was a whole new hell.

I know it only happened for a few moments but it felt like eternity. I heard a click through the ringing and felt a strong heat swallow my being. Hot metal coursing through me. I remembered that feeling from years prior. The sounds of the world came back to me and I heard the doctor yelling in pain. I could again smell the sickly scent of burning human flesh. He reflexively pulled himself back, and the spike went with it. My blood poured from where it had once been and I could see blue flames flickering from it as well. I had expected to begin falling and braced myself for such, since the previous two times my magic surged that’s what happened. Instead I felt the straps pop open one by one beginning from the one on my head.

The fluorescent lights on the ceiling shattered, shrouding the room in darkness as glass from the one on a stand immediately above me cut into my neck and face. My body emits a faint glow in pitch darkness, though it’s nowhere near bright enough to illuminate anything around me. I stood from the chair, stumbling and shaking as I did. I was barefoot and in a gown so the glass also cut me as I walked. I fumbled my way forward to the door and pulled it open. The room itself was at the far end of the hall and against the end wall there was a tall window. When I looked through the panes it too shattered, leaving jagged pieces around the edges which stuck into the frame. I didn’t know how it was happening but I knew it was my chance. I turned back to the room, the door had remained open behind me. The doctor was still yelling and one of the nurses was tending to him while the other was gaining her bearings. I lifted myself a tad to get my prosthetic foot onto the sill, the glass couldn’t cut that. I used my prosthetic arm to brace myself. I took one last look behind me at the place which had held me prisoner for 8 whole years and jumped. 

I was not at all braced for the ground, so I fell hard. If my bones could have broken I’m sure several of them would have. As quickly as possible I pushed myself to my feet and began running. There were woods nearby and they had to do. I’d look for the Millers as soon as I had my bearings in the world.

An alarm sounded behind me. I was just reaching the woods as I saw a few nurses and several security guards go out the front door and begin searching around. One of the guards spotted me, and called to the others. I took off as fast as possible into the dense foliage, the wounds on my foot slowed me down considerably, but that was the least of my issues at that moment. I could see incredibly well through the dark, though my mind felt foggy. I ran into several low hanging branches and a few bushes of sorts, each time making a loud ruckus, and I could hear the guards getting closer to me. I could hear one get within several yards of me when I tripped. My foot had caught underneath a raised root, which caused me to completely collapse forward.

However, when I fell instead of falling into the leaves and dirt, I became completely surrounded by that endless white voice. And this time I did not simply begin falling only to end up in another place. I hit a solid surface. A floor within the void. As soon as I realized I was safe, and they could no longer take me back, I began sobbing uncontrollably. My blood began to cover the floor in a puddle as I did. I don’t know how long I just laid there crying, but when I had stopped, the crimson puddle was a considerable size, nearly larger than my entire body.

I tried once to push and prop myself up but that was to no avail, I was shaking far too much for that. I could feel a heat forming at the base of my skull. That was a heat I had become familiar with at Neumann’s. It was my indication that I would pass out shortly from whatever injuries I had, so I wouldn’t be conscious much longer. I stretched my good arm out and laid my hand flat on the floor that was clean of blood. It was..

“Cold…” I muttered to myself before promptly passing out.