Vince stood frozen. The word midpoint echoed inside his skull, yet he could not grasp its meaning. The moment the man above spoke, the mountain of bodies began to collapse. Each version of himself fell apart, limbs snapping cleanly at a perfect thirty seven degrees, arranging themselves into a staircase that descended toward him.
Step, step, step.
Each sound hit Vince like a hammer. He did not dare lift his head. His heart pounded harder with every step, each one heavier than the last.
Is he going to kill me? Vince thought, terrified to even breathe.
The footsteps stopped just a few steps above him. He still could not see the figure. Then the man spoke, his voice broken into pieces of different tones, shifting from female to male then back again. Every word twisted as if it did not belong to a single throat.
"You will soon understand. You are not me."
The pitch changed with every syllable, rising and falling like the voice itself was lying. Before Vince could react, the figure flickered and vanished in an instant. Vince, drenched in sweat, finally tried to lift his gaze, but his vision went white before he could see anything.
AH!
The world flipped upside down. He felt himself falling, weightless, helpless, as if tumbling through an endless void.
…
After what felt like hours, he finally hit solid ground.
Opening his eyes, the sunlight stabbed into them. He winced as his vision slowly adjusted. When the blur cleared, he realized he was lying in the middle of Koburn. His old Koburn.
People walked past him as if nothing was strange. Some stared for a second, others kept moving like seeing someone collapse on the sidewalk was simply part of life.
Just like before, huh? Vince thought, forcing himself to sit up.
He recognized the slums. Short buildings all faded into the same dull brown, a handful of homes made from red brick, and everywhere he looked, grime coated the alleys. Smoke drifted from windows, and shady exchanges happened at every corner. The air carried a thick stench of rot and filth, familiar and unwelcome.
Vince tried to think, but his mind felt hollow. He grabbed his head, trying to make sense of anything.
"What just happened?" he muttered.
He remembered going to bed. The two doors. The strange travel. The figures. His old gun shop. Then, nothing. A blank space, followed by the female god's voice, and the endless fall.
He pressed his fingers to his chin, feeling an odd sense of clarity tug at him.
Did she change my memories? If so, that gap makes sense. There is no way I would forget something that large on my own.
His thoughts cut off when her voice returned.
"Welcome back, Vince."
Her gentle tone rolled through the slums, shaking the windows as if the city itself bowed to her words. Pleading, yet powerful.
Vince felt his chest tighten. He looked up at the sky, finally able to see it clearly again.
When can I go back, and how long have I been here? he wondered.
The god answered before Vince could form the words.
"You can return once you understand these things. You have barely been here an hour. Now listen carefully. What I am about to say, you must follow."
Vince flinched. He had forgotten she could hear everything in his head. He swallowed hard as she continued.
"Right now your life is in dang—"
Her voice cut off when Vince suddenly jerked.
Danger!? His mind nearly screamed. He braced himself, fear rushing in at the idea of dying here, accomplishing nothing, leaving behind only regret.
THUD!
A force struck him before he could even look up. Vince's body shot across the street and slammed into a building. The impact left a deep mark along the wall.
AH!
The air rushed out of him. Blood gathered at the back of his throat, but he swallowed it before it spilled out. He did not dare look up. His body throbbed everywhere at once. Then, just as quickly, the pain vanished. The god had damaged him greatly and healed him in a single breath.
He expected something like this, yet the reality still broke him. His ego was already cracked, but now it felt shattered entirely. He knew he was weak. He always knew. Still, he kept trying to act strong, even when he admitted the opposite to himself.
How long would it take to reach even a fraction of that power? he wondered, heart pounding as he waited for her voice to return.
How could I ever catch up? The Darken Age can help me grow stronger, but how far would that even take me? Decades? I have not even used my book to its fullest. And because I am fucking human. I am the most flawed thing I could possibly be. If I had been born as anything else I would be stronger than this.
He let out a broken laugh at his own bitterness.
The god spoke again.
"You always felt weak because you are. You were offered strength by your group already but I can push you much further."
Vince did not lift his head. His voice stayed empty.
"What do I have to do?"
"I like how you are thinking, Vince. As I said, your life is in danger. Every time you are summoned here, you release a scent that only higher beings can detect. One of them is him."
Her voice tightened. It sounded like it could snap at any second.
How powerful is he? Vince thought, his worry spreading like ice.
"Once you wake, look outside your window. The moment the scent reaches him, he can track it. Depending on how far he is, you may see a figure outside. If he is in another country it will take time, but he will come. He is dangerous. Black hair, no eyes. Remember that. People used to call him the eyeless freak. I do not know his current title. Now listen closely. You must buy four packs of nutmeg powder, a dreamcatcher, and any broken item. Fill a bathtub with the powder and the broken item, lie down, place the dreamcatcher above your head, and chant, 'A dream will always be founded upon the creator of delight and hope through the mind will blessed be upon ye mind Brita…'"
Her voice grew heavy, rushed, almost strained.
Vince could only stare blankly. I have to do all this every time I wake up… he thought, overwhelmed.
The god spoke again.
"There is another part. You will hold two roles. Yourself, and another. When the others arrive, you will be you on the first day. On the next day, you will take the form of a being that lives within the dream world, or the False World. I cannot appear in front of them. You will act as a holder, not a maker. You will stabilize the world for them, since my presence cannot be shown."
Vince snapped upright, eyes wide.
"W-Wait, how does that work? If I am there both days, who speaks? Who is coming? And why me?"
The god laughed softly.
"It is simple. First day, I speak through you. Second day, you speak on your own. As for who is coming, they are chosen. I will not tell you why."
A small pause, then her tone shifted.
"There is one last thing. You are cursed. I cannot speak its name, but in simple terms it is called the firstbreaking curse. I can reduce the pain for a short time, but it will always return. We will speak again next night."
Vince's vision faded into darkness before he could react.