Westley Braum woke up to his phone playing a song from one of his favorite video games. He silently rolled over and tapped the Dismiss button before rolling back and looking at his still-sleeping girlfriend, Ruby. Her long, straight, black hair was a mess, but he didn’t care. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him. Then she started snoring. He had to restrain himself from laughing. She didn't have work today, but she still wanted to get up with him, so he gently started covering her face with kisses. “Time to get up, sweetheart,” he whispered. The woman groaned and stretched before wrapping her arms around his head and hugging him tightly. After a few seconds, she let go and silently crawled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He chuckled at her before following suit, but heading to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee instead.

  She emerged 20 minutes later, music playing on her phone, dancing a little while she started putting on her makeup. “What do you want to wear today?” she asked as he finished his first cup of the day.

  “The blue shirt and red tie,” he answered before going to relieve himself and take a shower. When he was finished, he found the shirt, tie, and a black pair of dress pants on the couch. He finished getting ready for the day and walked up behind Ruby, wrapping his arms around her. “Have a good day, I’ll see you soon.”

  She smiled at him in the mirror, and he couldn’t help but kiss her neck. “Bye, Baby, I miss you!” She pretended to pout.

  “Miss you too. Let me know if you need me to get anything on the way home.”

  “I will, but I think we have everything,” she assured him. He doubted that was true. Today was the day of their monthly hike, and they always forgot something.

  He nodded, patted her butt, and said one last goodbye before leaving for work.

  The drive from their small apartment to city hall was short. It was a small town that barely took 15 minutes to drive from one end to the other. His Subaru rolled carefully down Main Street, past the red brick shops that made up the old town. Other areas were newer, but City Hall was still one of the historic buildings, even if it had been expanded and renovated a time or two. Nearly all of the historic district had. Looking at the sections of the new brickwork, windows, modern signs, and drywall interiors, he thought about the Ship of Theseus. There were still a lot of sections of every building that were original, but at what point would the protected historic landmarks no longer be the same buildings? He pulled the car over by The Owl for his daily pre-work breakfast. The entrance to the diner was smaller than it had any right to be; just a few bar seats and two booths that took up too much room. But to the back, three rooms served as a pool hall.

  He sat on a stool and rapped his knuckles on the bar top. “Morning, Oscar.” he greeted loudly.

  “I’ll be right out, Wes!” a voice with a thick Mexican accent called out. Wes didn’t have to wait long. The cook probably started cooking his order 10 minutes before he got there. He glanced around the empty diner, a bit surprised that he was the only one. It was hardly a busy place, but a couple of other locals all shared his habit.

  “No Larry or August today?” he asked as the plate was dropped in front of him. Oscar was a short man, about 40 years old, sporting a buzz cut. He wasn’t the only owner of the Owl Wes had known. A lot of the local businesses had passed hands more times than anyone in the town could keep up with. But so far, he was Wes’s favorite. He took better care of the place than most had, and made decent enough food. He also kept up with his customers’ habits and made a point to reward regular patronage.

  “They went fishing up the river. Promised me half their catch for their tab.”

  Wes snorted. “Maybe I should have gone with them for that deal.” He cut into his regular morning omelet while Oscar poured him his second coffee of the day.

  “You don’t even have a tab.” The man laughed.

  “Maybe I would if you let me pay you with my hobby.”

  “If any of those rocks you collect ever turn out to either be worth more than a few beers then let me know.” he shot back.

  Despite the jokes, Oscar was well known to use whatever local produce he could get his hands on, even if it cost more than getting it from a distributor. He did his best to invest in the community, which was why he had lasted longer than most of the past owners. He was still an outsider to the town -most were anymore if Wes was being honest- but he at least cared and treated the business as more than a way to make money.

  “If I find anything edible today, I’ll be sure to let you have first pick.”

  Now it was Oscar’s turn to snort. “Good luck with that.” Wes had to agree with the sentiment. He never took foraging as seriously as his dad, and it was a rare day that he found more than a few common mushrooms and herbs he didn’t need. Foraging to him was more of something to do on a hike.

  He finished his breakfast and left a wad of cash on the bar top. “Thanks, Oscar. See you Monday.”

  “Be safe out there,” the man nodded as he continued opening.

  Wes left his car where it was and walked the rest of the way to city hall. The air was chilly from last night, but the sun was still creeping over the mountain ridge, and he was in the shadow. When it crested the ridge, the temperature would spike into the high 80s. So for now, he enjoyed the crisp, icy air.

  City Hall was not the oldest building in Eastridge, but it was certainly the most impressive of the historic district, except maybe the post office. It took up half the block and was made of flagstones. It was also one of the very few buildings that had yet to replace all the windows, and the glass was wavy and slightly thicker at the bottom of almost every pane, signalling which had been replaced. The entrance was a light-colored wooden double door with a black glass spoked arch above it; the placement of the door was a bit odd, as it sat directly on the corner of the block, pointing diagonally across the intersection. He saw the padlock before he even touched the handles. Glancing up, he saw a line of people that had been blocked from his view around the corner. They were divided into two groups. Citizens and government workers. He was hoping to get a head start on the mountain of work today, but Mr Kennington, the elderly security guard responsible for opening and not much else, hadn’t arrived yet. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and leaned against the wall like everyone else.

  10 minutes later, the man walked up with short, stooped steps as he fumbled with his key ring. “Oh, Mr. Braum!” he smiled broadly “You’re here awful early!” Wes could only smile at the old man. He was only 20 minutes early and the door was supposed to be opened 30 minutes ago.

  “Good Morning, Mr. Kennington.” he smiled as patiently as he could.

  A man in casual clothes, marking him as a citizen grumbled, “It’s about time.” Everyone else seemed to silently agree with him as a few more people glared at the old guard. But the man refused to wear hearing aids and didn’t notice anyone's frustration as he slowly unlocked the door. A process made even slower than normal by the man’s insurance on greeting each person present that he knew, including a couple of the citizens. To their credit, no one tried to barge in or push past the man. Wes waited for everyone else to enter, not wanting to bother fighting to get in.

  He made his way to the office he shared with one other person, and sat down, sighing at the stack of papers on his desk, knowing that even getting through them would not mark the end of his work. He was ecstatic that he was getting off early today.

  Wes liked his job. It wasn’t fulfilling, and it didn’t make a lot of money, but it was simple work, and he was left alone for the most part. All he had to do was make sure each form that was submitted to his department was filled out correctly and then input the data into a spreadsheet on his computer. If a forum had a mistake, he highlighted it and returned it to his Supervisor, Ms. Zhu. It was tedious and menial, but it actually relaxed him. He liked the quiet organization, and it reminded him of a computer game he played in high school about a border agent for a fictional country checking immigrant documents. Everything had to match as he checked names against photocopies of I.D., birth dates, requests, payments for fees, etc. It was strangely kind of fun. Which is why he hated this time of year so much.

  Normally, he had the liberty to take his time and work at his own pace while still achieving his quota. But the town’s annual apple harvest festival was approaching, and he was assigned to organize the business attendance forms in addition to his regular work, which easily tripled his workload. He had to kick back over a third of the forms for incomplete or incongruous data, and they were promptly filled out again and resubmitted within an hour or so. And most of them had to be fixed multiple times over the course of several days. One particularly stubborn small business owner resubmitted the same form over seven times before he finally got everything filled out correctly. This was somewhat normal, but for whatever reason, the problem was significantly worse whenever the forms were for city events. So instead of steadily working his way through his workload with an approximate 1:1 ratio of work gained to work finished, he had to rush through papers as quickly as he could without missing any mistakes, with three forms gained for every one he finished. And the forums used for the festival were not composed very well, making it difficult even for him to sometimes find out if there was a mistake or not. On top of that, his monitor decided that it wanted to make the screen tinted yellow. No amount of adjusting the settings got rid of it. Everything glowed with a sickly yellow tint that was hurting his eyes. He had put in a work order to replace it, but just because he worked on the other side of the desk didn’t mean that bureaucracy was any kinder to him, and he waited for weeks not knowing if his request was approved or not. He decided that he would replace the monitor himself with his next paycheck, but that was still another week away.

  So he put in his earbuds and started on the stack. He had already arranged to leave early today, and he had to do even more than he already had to so things didn’t get too backed up. He wasn’t sure how long he had been working when a tall paper cup was set on top of the paper he was working on. Looking up, he saw Carrie Zhu.

  She was a Chinese immigrant and a single mother. He always thought it was curious that she found her way to a tiny speck-on-the-map town in Colorado. She moved here when he was four, and according to his dad, she didn’t speak any English at all when he first met her. But after nearly 30 years, she had become a core member of the community and an ever-present figure in his childhood. Their families were close, and no one batted an eye when he and her daughter, Ruby, started dating a year ago. It was she who got him this job four years ago now. Before, she was the only person here and had to handle both the customer service and clerk parts of the job, but as the town grew and more and more businesses popped up, it became too much work for her, so she convinced her supervisor to give her an assistant and once she found out that Wes needed a job, she made sure he was hired. Technically, as he was her assistant, they were supposed to split the duties evenly. But as it became apparent that Wes was the superior clerk and Carrie was the Superior receptionist, they stuck to those roles as much as they could.

  Pulling his earbuds out, he gave her a genuine smile. “Morning, Mom.” he greeted, picking up the cup she gave him that was his third coffee of the day.

  “Good Morning, Westly,” she answered, sitting down at her desk. Then eyeing the stack that was over twice as high as normal, she added, “If you need help so you can leave early like you want, just let me know.”

  His smile turned into a slight frown. “No, this is my job. I’ll get it done,” he insisted.

  “You say that like you haven’t covered the front for me,” she scoffed.

  “Well, I’m your assistant, that’s also my job if you need it.”

  “And you do your job very well, but you are here to lighten the load for me, not remove it completely.”

  “It’s fine,” he insisted again, ignoring her point. “I’ll get it all done. Thank you for the coffee.”

  She looked at him for a few long seconds before she finally answered. “Just don’t work too hard. You are a good boy, and I don’t want you to overwork yourself.

  “I’m 28,” he chuckled.

  “And I was your Sunday school teacher since you were 6. You will always be that little boy who wanted to be as strong as Sampson to me.”

  He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what she was referencing. It was her favorite picture of him, and she still kept it on her fridge. He was 7 when it was taken, he was reenacting the famous scene of Samson wrestling a lion. Only the Lion was their dog, a boxer named Angel, and instead of a huge muscular man, he was a scrawny half-naked child with a towel over his head tied in place with a belt. He was hugging the dog, pretending to crush her, an exaggerated, fierce look on his face. But the bully just looked back at him curiously, completely unfazed by his “assault”.

  Instead of commenting, he took a sip of his coffee and then turned his attention back to his work. They sat in silence as they worked, but that didn’t last long as citizens filed in. Ms. Zhu chatted with them amiably, most being familiar faces. But Wes kept his head down and checked form after form. After four hours, his phone buzzed. Tapping the screen, he saw that it was Ruby. he checked the time, and seeing that he would be off in an hour, he checked the message.

  “I am so sorry, babe, but I got called in. Shelly called in sick and they need me to cover her shift. And before you ask, I can’t get out of it. Gene implied that if I don’t, then he will find a reason to fire me.”

  Wes nearly shouted a curse. This was the fourth week in a row that Ruby had to cover for Shelly on a weekend. But the bitch manager, Gene, threatened to fire Ruby, not the person who was causing the problem. But he also knew this was partially his fault. He had put off finding a better job. He was too comfortable here. He liked working with Ruby’s mom, and most of the time, the work wasn’t stressful. He was also good at it. He rarely missed any mistakes. But it wasn’t ever going to be a job that he could live off of on his own, or support his girlfriend with. That being said, few jobs would offer that anymore. He did have a Bachelor's in business, and 4 years of clerical experience, so maybe it was time to finally look for something that would pay more, at least a little, so Ruby didn't have to worry about getting fired like this. He decided to start looking after the festival. With a sigh, he replied, “Well fuck. This really sucks. We’ll have to wait until next month then.”

  The reply was almost immediate, “No, you should still go. I won’t be home until around 9, and you were already going to leave early today anyway.”

  “Are you sure? I’d rather go with you anyway.”

  “Yes, Go. Take pictures of squirrels for me. ;)”

  “Ok, I love you, sweetheart.”

  “I love you too, handsome man.”

  He smiled down at his phone, but it was bittersweet and tired. He had a hard time concentrating on his work after that. He only finished three in the remaining hour, but he barely cared, and slowly started to get ready to leave a little earlier than he strictly needed to.

  As he gathered his things, he was startled as someone started yelling. “What do you mean it was denied!?” The voice shouted. He glanced over to see a woman leaning over the front desk, waving a form. He kicked back.

  “Yes, if you look at the highlighted section, you will see that the dates you scheduled the space for don’t add up to the number of days you said you would be paying. You see, the 14th through the 16th is three days, but you wrote that the number of days you are paying for is two.” Carrie explained with a calm, but firm tone. “So you need to fill the form out again and either pay for three days or only schedule two.

  This set off the woman again, “I have to fill it out AGAIN!?” she nearly screamed, and Wes was fully sympathetic to this complaint. It was not a short form and a lot of the questions were not worded as well as they could have been. But that was not his or Carrie’s fault. It was Carrie’s job to accept forms, tell people if they were approved or not, and what they needed to do next. It was his job to ensure they were filled out correctly. Neither of them could approve anything.

  “I know it is frustrating.” Carrie’s voice softened, “But it will be much easier and faster this time. You can just copy the first form except for the highlighted fields.” You can even have a seat and do it here.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Can you tell me if it will be approved if I do?” The woman asked, her voice barely containing her anger.

  “Unfortunately, no, it will take another 1-3 days just like before. I am sorry about that.” That continued while Wes finished his last form for the day. He did feel sorry for the woman, he doubted that she was trying to get out of paying a third day. It was a mistake, just a very frustrating and time-consuming mistake. If anything, she took it better than some people. But as much as he did sympathize, he was glad that he didn’t have to talk with any of them.

  By the time he had finished, the woman had gone to sit down and was grumbling to herself as she filled out a new stack of papers. Seeing his stand and gather his things, Carrie smiled at him. “Taking off?” The question was rhetorical, she knew his schedule better than he did, and usually was the one to remind him to take a break or to go home. “Are you and Ruby going to go on your hike this evening?”

  Wes returned the smile, but she could tell that it was a bit pained. “No, Shelly called off work, so Rubes has to work a double shift to cover for her today. I’d put it off until we are both free, but this will be my only chance for the next couple 'a weeks, so it will just be me on my lonesome.” He tried to make his disappointment seem like a joke, but it did bother him that Ruby couldn’t go. Regardless of how busy his schedule was, he would normally wait until the next month anyway, but the past few days had been particularly draining on him. He needed to get out and breathe the mountain air. Well, Colorado had nothing but mountain air, but that was beside the point.

  The kind older woman’s eyes darkened at his words “That girl is a lazy bitch.” She stated matter-of-factly. Wes snorted at her outburst. Though the woman was professional and polite to customers, she had always stated her opinion openly on matters outside of her work, and he rarely disagreed with her, even when her opinions were directed at him. She reached out and rubbed his arm affectionately. Then with another smile, one more meant to comfort him, she added, “Maybe this will cheer you up.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a metal tube. It was a little under an inch in diameter and about 8 inches long. It was painted a matte silver and tied with a blue ribbon. He already knew what was inside. Unlike his actual mother, his future mother-in-law appreciated his love of cigars.

  He took the case with a deep sigh. “Thank you so much, I needed this. I love you.” He accompanied his thanks with a tight hug.

  “Go relax. I know you want Ruby with you, but it’s good to be alone sometimes. She’ll be here when you get back.”

  He nodded and slipped the gift into his computer bag. “Thanks again, mom. See you Monday.” He nodded politely at the woman on his way out. She had obviously heard everything, and now that she had calmed down, she perked up as he passed. “Where do you like to hike?” she asked curiously.

  He looked directly at her for the first time and figured out immediately why she asked. The woman wore a tank top, shorts, baseball cap, and sunglasses. She was definitely an outdoors person and probably new to the town. “We normally go out to Church Rock. It’s only a 30 minute drive to get there, and there are a lot of birds if you like to spot ‘em.” he answered as congenially as he could.

  “Ooh, I’ve been there!” she said excitedly, her whole demeanor changed by now. Clearly, she loved hiking more than he did. “You know where you should go? Deer Peak. It is a 2-hour drive, but if you follow the trail up to the top, there is a shelf you can climb onto and look out over the trees. It’s like a green sea. And there are lots of animals! My partner and I even saw rams last time we were there!”

  Wes nodded slowly. It would be quite the drive, but he had the time today. “How long is the trip to the shelf?”

  “20, maybe 30 minutes?” she answered.

  He nodded. All said he could probably get home at 7 or 8. “Thanks, I’ll check it out.”

  “Great! Do you like Beer?” she exclaimed. But she cut him off before he could answer. “There is a microbrewery in Shalesburg up there. Cole Mine Brewery. They are amazing!” The woman went on about the beers they had and which ones she and her husband liked. He smiled and nodded politely until he was able to excuse himself. She seemed nice enough. At least, when she wasn’t yelling at his girlfriend’s mom. But honestly, her efforts worked. He did, in fact, like beer, and so did Ruby. He had a clean growler in his car, so even if they didn’t can anything, he could still bring some home to her.

  As he got into his car, he checked his phone and found another text from Ruby. “Sorry again, I wish I could go with you!” The text was accompanied by a sticker of a cute dog crying. He knew that was partially a lie. She didn’t care much for hiking and only went to spend time with him, but they both knew it and were ok with it. And he always made it up to her when they stopped at a diner she liked on the way back. He didn’t care for the food there, but she insisted that they made the best peach tea. Besides, he knew that she would rather hike with him twice as long as they normally did than work at her shitty cashier job.

  “It’s ok, I love you too. I’ll bring you back a surprise. ;)” he replied.

  His phone buzzed almost as soon as he put it down. Checking it, he saw that she sent him a selfie. Her black hair was tied back, and she wore the green apron that was her work uniform over a black shirt and pants. She had put on eyeliner with long wing tips the way she knew he liked. In the picture, she was making a peace sign and winking. He couldn’t help but sit and stare at the picture for a few seconds. She was so damn cute. He missed her already.

  But her mom had a point. He took advantage of her absence by plugging in his phone to the car stereo and playing his own playlist. She wasn’t a fan of heavy metal, and he preferred listening to softer music while he worked, so he didn’t get many chances to listen to it. Cranking the music up, he smiled as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  Despite his enjoyment of the tedious office job, Wes did his best to be active and spend time outdoors when he could. He grew up with his dad taking him hunting and foraging, and though he grew out of that, he still loved the wild mountains, the noises, and animals, the rocks, and the trees; it meant the world to him. He often wished that he could leave everything behind and run away to live alone in the mountains, but fantasies were fantasies for a reason. He loved his family too much to move too far away, and Ruby would be miserable without town conveniences.

  He followed the GPS through the winding rural highways that twisted through the mountains like a river more than a road. It took an hour and a half, a bit less time than the woman said, which was a nice surprise for him. He stopped at the brewery and, seeing that they did can their beer, got a few of their stout. They called it “The Black Stuff,” which got a chuckle out of him. Then he filled the carboy with a wheat that he thought Ruby would like called Wheat Lamp. The bartender happily explained to him that a Wheat Lamp was apparently a mining lamp invented by a guy named Wheat. Yeah, this place was definitely meant for tourists and was leaning hard into their gimmick. Shame it wouldn’t last long. It was a bit too expensive, the town was too small, and it wasn’t exactly a popular tourist destination. Unfortunately, it was a common occurrence out here. People moved in from California or Texas, didn’t do much research into the area, and planned for a larger consumer base than they would get. That being said, he had to admit the beer was good. If they lowered the prices and cut back on their merchandise wall, he figured they had a chance to survive longer than three years. But he kept all of this to himself.

  It was another 10 minutes to where he parked his car at the trailhead, and seeing that no one was around, he unashamedly changed out of his work clothes. In place of a collared shirt, slacks, and dress shoes, he wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and work boots. Emptying his computer bag, he put two of the beers and his cigar in it and finished by strapping a small bush knife and his snake gun to his belt. He used the knife mostly for foraging, and though he had never needed the gun, his dad had drilled into him to always carry it, especially when in the wild. It was a .410 revolver meant for self-defense against small animals like snakes. It only had an effective range of 10 yards, and he kept birdshot shells loaded.

  He had just about everything he would need already in his car and much more. It was where they permanently kept all of their camping and most of their shooting gear. There was a tent, two sleeping bags, an air mattress, A first aid kit, targets, half a box of clay pigeons, several ammo cans of various rounds, and a long black gun case that held a .22 long rifle, a 12. gauge, and a .38 revolver.

  He remembered the first time he was on his college campus in Denver, and he opened it to get his bag. His friend, who grew up in Denver and hadn’t seen a gun outside of a Walmart or Cabellas, nearly had a heart attack at the sight and had to explain to Wes that he could actually get into a lot of trouble for this, especially on school property. Wes then had to explain to his friend that this was normal for the people in his hometown. Over half the men and a third of the women at Mass would be open-carrying, and even more would be concealed. Hell, his trunk looked like this when he was still in high school. As long as nothing left the car, nobody gave a shit what was in it unless it was drugs.

  But after that, the running joke in the friend group was that he was an arms dealer, and he thought of it every time he opened the trunk ever since. However, until he graduated, he was careful not to put anything he would need on campus back there again.

  He grabbed a few snacks and a bottle of water, then, after a thought, he went ahead and added a box of mixed payload shells to his bag. He highly doubted he would need any, let alone a whole box, but he didn’t feel like opening it to only take a few emergency rounds. Besides, he hated having half-empty boxes if he could help it.

  Once ready, he made his way into the evergreen forest. The walk was better than he expected. Yes, it was hot, and there were a few more dead trees than he would have liked that let the sun through, but there were a ton of animals. Almost every few steps, he would hear a rabbit or fox scamper through the leaves. Squirrels bounded through the branches of the trees, bluebirds sang, and Woodpeckers climbed around trunks looking for food. It was easily one of the most active places he had ever witnessed. He even saw a black squirrel along with the dozens of fox squirrels that plagued the state. And though he couldn’t spot any deer or elk, he heard an elk call and found some tracks and droppings. Though it wasn’t all fun. His heart clenched a bit when he saw cat prints. The size of his fist. “Yay. Mountain lions,” he muttered to himself. His dad could tell him exactly how old the tracks were, but he never was able to tell more than brand new or very old. He hoped that if it was still around, it would leave him alone. He was out of luck, though, when it came to foraging. Though to be fair, he didn’t bother to leave the trail.

  This time, the woman’s estimates were spot on. It took him almost exactly 35 minutes to reach the shelf she had mentioned. He was skeptical when she said that she and her husband would climb to the top, but once there, he saw what she meant. It was only 9 feet, and there were clear hand and foot holds that someone had deliberately carved into the stone, so it was pretty easy to get to the top. By the time he had reached his goal, though, he was drenched in sweat and in dire need of a beer. He was a filthy casual, damnit, and wanted the calories and bitterness more than hydration. For now, he sat down on a fallen tree and looked out over creation. “Damn,” he whispered. The woman may have oversold the brewery, but she sure as hell undersold the view here. If he could build a cabin and live at this spot, he wouldn't ever leave the rest of his life. He dropped his bag and got comfortable. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He breathed as slowly as he could, breathing in, holding his breath, breathing out, and holding his breath again before starting over, each step of the cycle he counted to four as he deliberately cleared his mind. He didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, he felt content as all the tension his body had kept had melted away.

  Smiling, he cracked open a beer and took a long swig as he stared over the emerald sea, noting a few bigger birds nesting a ways away. He was just about to get the cigar out when the sound of trumpets wailed in his ears.

  All of the work he had done to relax immediately vanished as his body tightened up like a snapped rubber band. His head whipped around looking for what sounded like a royal procession at the Renaissance fair, but he didn’t see anyone nearby. He was still trying to figure out what had happened when, after only a second or two, a piece of paper flew in front of him and blocked everything from sight. It wasn’t normal paper, though, it looked more like old-fashioned parchment. He tried to bat it away, but his hands couldn’t seem to find it. His confusion grew when he fully grabbed his face in an attempt the get the paper, and he still couldn’t even see his hand. The only thing that seemed to get past the parchment was light, and he could make out vague shadows cast by his hand, and the paper did go dark when he covered his eyes, but it was still able to be clearly read as though he was reading under moonlight. Just as he was about to panic, words appeared on the paper. The ink drew out the letters as though guided by an invisible calligraphy pen.

  A Proclamation to All Who Yet Draw Breath, from the Mouth of the Harbinger, by Decree of the Eternal Machina

  First and foremost, know this: thou hast mine earnest and solemn condolences. A grievous tragedy hath fallen before thee. Though no life hath yet dimmed, verily, many shall fall ere long upon thy return unto the mortal realm. Doubtless, thine heart is stirred with many questions; yet, alas, thou mayst ask none. This missive hath been penned a great time passed, and delivered unto thee through the workings of the sacred Skill known as Harbinger. Forgive me, for I yearn to do more. And yet, contained herein is knowledge of no small value—I hope enough to grant thee the wisdom thou seekest.

  First must thou grasp this truth: thine universe hath been breached.

  What this portendeth, thou mayst not yet fathom. Thus shall I explain.

  Know then that the firmament doth not consist of but one cosmos, but of many—nigh unto infinite. Each universe is meant to lie apart, untouched and unknowing of its brethren. Yet, in ages long forgotten, an anomaly was sown. A mighty archmage, called Angra, didst wage war upon the veils that separate all realms, and thus began the great Multiversal Conflagration. Universes were torn asunder. Their broken remnants, adrift, now crash upon the walls of neighboring creation.

  Thy world is the twenty-first to suffer such trespass.

  Worse still, thy universe is a thing most rare—an anomaly, shrouded and sealed from the breath of Aether. Thus, when the breach did come, its changes were more dire than any seen before. In most realms, such breach brings only the rending of rifts, wherein monsters from beyond may enter. But in thine, the whole of nature shall transform.

  In the best of outcomes, entire nations shall perish. This, too, may yet come to pass.

  Therefore, in wisdom and mercy, all sapient life hath been removed. At this very hour, all who possess mind and soul are reading this same sacred edict.

  Thou wonderest how such a marvel was wrought. Even those born of Aether would marvel and doubt. The truth lieth with Angra’s greatest foe—Ahura, the Sage Eternal, who forged a mighty working known as The Machina: the grandest Spell-Construct ever conceived. In time, thou mayest learn the deeper truths of such things. For now, know only this—the Machina is a spell that thinketh, and acteth, and awaiteth completion of its holy task: to seal the breaches between worlds.

  But even such a divine spell may not act alone. It hath not the strength to alter the course of stars unaided. Thus, it doth bless the peoples of the broken realm, that they might rise in strength and become its sword and shield.

  To this end, the Machina hath laid upon thy world a System—a lattice of power and growth, woven into the very laws of thy reality. Through it, mortals may gain strength swiftly, may forge their destinies, and may perform feats beyond imagination. In realms already steeped in Aether, such change came easily. But unto thee, unlearned in such matters, it shall be a trial.

  Yet once thou knowest the new law, thou shalt ne’er desire the old again.

  Now shall thy spirit be placed in stasis—ten years and ten days shall pass in slumber. In that time, thy world shall be reforged. The beasts of field and forest shall mutate. The weather shall rage with madness. The earth itself shall quake, as it hath not since the mountains rose from the sea. All things in thine cosmos shall feel this reckoning.

  When thou returnest, let not thine eyes wander idly. From the first breath, thou shalt be imperiled. Aether Beasts, foul and wrathful, shall hunt thee. Yet take heart—whosoever striketh down even a single beast shall gain strength and vigor beyond mortal ken. So doth the Path to Immortality begin.

  Moreover, thou shalt not be left without guidance. From the other twenty sundered realms, envoys and guides shall be sent, bearing wisdom and lore of the new order.

  Hearken now to the sole counsel I may yet give:

  Choose thy first foe with care. The beast thou strikest first shall shape the path thou walkest forevermore.

  When this message is complete, thou shalt slumber. When next thine eyes open, thou shalt awaken at the nearest place of safety to where last thou stood.

  May the Machina grant thee Achievement.

  Wes had to take his time working through the message. It wasn’t exactly difficult given that he grew up reading the KJV Bible, but a few words still tripped him up and he only guessed their meaning by context. Upon reflection after reading it, it was probably a good thing this weird message was written like this. If it were written in modern English, he would be having a panic attack. But this way made it feel more removed from reality, even though he was floating in a void.

  Everyone on the planet was going through the exact same thing as he was right now. His mom, dad, Ruby, Carrie, Oscar, the lady who told him to go to Deer Peak, the bartender at the brewery, everyone. It was then he finally realized that he was alone, not able to hear anyone at all. Already knowing what the result would be, he tried calling out. His voice sounded odd in the airless atmosphere. There was no echo, and there was far less force in the sound than usual. He realized that there shouldn’t even be sound at all anyway, so it wouldn't help to rationalize anything past that. He listened for a long moment, waiting for a response that he knew wouldn’t come. He briefly wondered if he was alone because he was so far from anyone else, or if everyone was alone. But deciding that didn’t really matter, he continued to do breathing exercises somehow helped despite the lack of air. Once he felt in control again, he turned back to the message.

  He read it a few more times and realized a few things. First, Nothing here was actually helpful. The only actual guidance it gave was the bit about the first monster he killed being important, but then, if he understood the rest correctly, he doubted many people would get to pick out what their first monster was. And even if they did, how were they supposed to know which would be a good or bad target? There was nothing there that indicated how it would matter, just that it did. The rest felt like flavor text in a video game, kinda interesting, but utterly devoid of consequence. The only thing this did that was actually useful was to provide an opportunity to mentally prepare. If he understood this correctly, given that he was deep in the Rockies in a forest densely populated by wildlife, he would probably be in immediate danger. Granted, after ten years of no human presence, it was probably a given that nowhere would be safe from these aether beasts, especially with these rifts that could probably appear anywhere.

  The second thing he realized was that, though it was difficult to be sure given the archaic writing style, This distinctly felt to him like propaganda. There was far too much praising of this Machina. It sounded more like a computer fulfilling a purpose than a benevolent deity. And the “Blessing” it mentioned sounded more like it was using people to achieve its programming.

  The last thing he realized was that a LOT of people were going to die. How many children were at school or daycare right now? How many sick and infirm were in hospitals? How many of the elderly were in nursing homes? Hell, Ruby was in the City Market working right now! For a moment, he told himself that he was catastrophizing, but this was a catastrophe. He was 30 miles away from home, 50 if he wanted to play it safe and follow the highway. And after 10 years, there was no way his or any other car would work. And the message implied that the landscape would change, so there was a very real possibility that even if nothing killed him, he would never see his friends or family again. His mind went to this morning. That very well may be the last time he would ever see Ruby again.

  After several long minutes of agonizing, panicking, and praying for his friends and family as well as the rest of the world, he eventually calmed down and gritted his teeth. Not knowing what else to do at this point, he focused his mind. Pulling the revolver and knife from his belt, he held one in each hand a bit awkwardly, and not sure how to start the 10 year sleep, he hesitantly stated, “Message received.”