Alterverse

by Keith B Darrell

  Alaric cleared his throat. The somnolent man’s heavy eyelids opened. “Who disturbs my slumber?”

  The emere stepped forward, bowing in obeisance. “My lord, I am Asabi and these are my companions: Alaric, Kita, Kunoichi, and Nitrate. We’ve come to…” Asabi paused. She drew closer to the throne and gazed carefully at its occupant, listening to his stertorous breathing. “I think he’s gone back to sleep.”

  “Well, wake him up,” Alaric said.

  Asabi placed her hand on the sleeping man’s shoulder, gently tapping it. “Sire?”

  He yawned. “Ahem. I am, of course, Hypnos, as you must know since you have sought me out. Why have you come to…” His eyes closed and his speech trailed off.

  “Not again!” Alaric exclaimed. “What’s with him, anyway?”

  Asabi examined Hypnos closely. “He appears to be narcoleptic.”

  “At this rate, it’ll take a century to conclude a conversation with him,” Kita said.

  “We don’t have a century,” Alaric said. “Wake him again, Asabi.”

  The emere tapped Hypnos’ shoulder gently.

  “Harrumph.” Hypnos reopened his eyes. “Where are my manners? You must think me a most ungracious host.” He reached for an opium-filled horn lying at the foot of his throne and offered it to Asabi.

  “Your hospitality is indeed most gracious, my lord, but if we may come right to the point, the reason we’re here is…” Asabi paused. She tapped his shoulder again, waking him. “Is there anyone else we might speak with?”

  Hypnos yawned. “I shall summon my sons.” He waved his hand, sprinkling sand onto the throne room floor. The sand settled, forming three piles that grew taller until transmogrifying into human figures. Hypnos yawned again and went back to sleep.

  The three figures, having taken shape, stepped forward. Although their bodies were human, they possessed large black wings and each had a different head. The first bore a human head, the second a beast’s head, and the third appeared to have a crystal orb where one would have expected his head to be.

  “We are the Oneiroi.” It was the most humanlike entity who spoke first. “I am Morpheus, the god of dreams. These are my brothers, Icelus – the god of nightmares whom humans call Phobetor, and Phantasos, the god of prophecies.”

  “Greetings, my lords,” Asabi began. “I am—”

  “We know who you are,” Phantasos said. Hearing his voice come from the crystal orb was unnerving. “After all, we are gods and you are in our realm.”

  Alaric boldly stepped forward. “Then you must also know why we’re here.”

  “I would be a poor god of prophecy if I did not. You wish our forbearance while you use our realm to stage your plot against our father’s siblings.”

  “A succinct assessment,” Kunoichi said.

  “Antagonizing our aunts and uncles, not to mention our grandmother Nyx, might cause us some inconvenience,” Morpheus said. “Why should we do this for you?”

  “Not for us, but for all humanity,” Alaric said.

  Phobetor roared with laughter. Saliva drooled from his beast’s snout. “Do I look as if I care about humanity?”

  “Then what do you care about?” Alaric asked.

  Morpheus scrutinized the visitors. “Dreams. The human mind uses dreams to express desires, to make choices, and to unleash repressed emotions or memories. We understand dreams thoroughly, yet we still find some aspects of the dreamers themselves puzzling.”

  “A test!” Phobetor exclaimed.

  “Yes,” Phantasos agreed. “Pass our test and you shall have our forbearance.”

  Alaric frowned. “And if we fail? What then?”

  Morpheus’ wings fluttered, lifting grains of sand from the floor and spreading them into the air. “You’ll spend eternity trapped in the dreams from which you were unable to break free.”

  The swirling sands encompassed Alaric, Asabi, Nitrate, Kita, and Kunoichi, transporting them to yet another chimerical environment within the Dreamscape. They were surrounded by a dense fog that obscured their vision. Asabi heard Morpheus’ voice and the mists parted for her.

  Asabi recognized the setting. She saw the familiar river of honey flowing past her feet, and to her left a river of milk and further north, a river of wine. Yet she realized it was not possible for her to be in Machen, the fourth Heaven ruled by the archangel Michael. No, I’m still in the Dreamscape, she thought. This is the Oneiroi’s doing, pulling thoughts and memories from my mind. Her jet-black skin glistened in the sunlight, more evidence this was a dream as sunlight did not exist in the reality of the Dark Gods. She meandered along the riverbank, which abutted a large field filled with sunflowers and butterflies. Machen was undeniably as beautiful as it was halcyon, yet Asabi seldom visited the heavenly realm. Not since… It was too painful. It brought back too many memories of that fateful day. Too many memories of…

  Cassiopeia. Asabi winced, remembering this was the Dreamscape, where to imagine is to create. Asabi admired the creamy white complexion of the nude young angel bathing innocently in the river, contrasting it with her own ebony skin tone. She recalled how, being Heavenbound, the ingenuous Cassiopeia had never traveled to other realms and had scant opportunities to meet strangers. Cassiopeia had been thrilled to meet Asabi when the then-young boy had been a visitor to her realm and yet it was that same eagerness to alleviate her loneliness, combined with the naïveté of never having learned to guard against strangers, that led to her subsequent final and deadly encounter with a Netherspawn.

  Asabi could not take his eyes off Cassiopeia’s lanuginous downy white wings, flowing blonde hair, and mesmerizing blue eyes. She looked exactly as she had the last time Asabi had seen her alive. Cassiopeia — naïve, friendly, charming, captivating, innocent, trusting Cassiopeia — was alive again. No, no. Asabi shook her head. This isn’t real; it’s a dream. And yet, part of Asabi wished it were real; that Cassiopeia had never been murdered, or that she could somehow warn her. Asabi saw the small fluffs of down beneath her stunning array of flight feathers and thought, Fly Cassiopeia; fly far away.

  “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Asabi recognized Morpheus’ voice. “So different from you, yet also so different from her.”

  Asabi gazed to her right and saw the red-haired, freckled Irish girl standing a few feet away. She appeared to be 13, but Asabi knew her teenaged body merely housed a much older Fae spirit. Her unnatural dark eyes, twin depthless black holes that served as her irises, betrayed a wisdom far older than her apparent years – the telltale sign of a changeling.

  “And who might this be?” Morpheus asked.

  “Her name is Síofra… But then, you already know that, don’t you?”

  “You’re fond of her, as well?”

  Asabi perused the crumbling walls around the changeling. “She’s as I remember her the last time I saw her: the day I died.”

  “My uncle Thanatos can be so unfair at times, separating loved ones who belong together. Many find him far crueler than I, although I suppose one might argue momentarily reuniting someone with their lost loved ones is crueler than having taken them in the first place. What do you think, Asabi?”

  “I think you’re a bored, sadistic god willing to inflict suffering on others for your own twisted amusement.”

  “I must have struck a nerve. You were so diplomatic up until this point. It was all ‘my lord’ this and ‘sire’ that, and now you label me sadistic and twisted. I’m not to blame for your loss. It was Thanatos, the god of death, who separated you from Cassiopeia and Síofra.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Look, to your left. A Netherspawn is coming through a rift. The first of what shall undoubtedly be a horde of terrifying, misshapen creatures, with their drooling fangs and long trenchant talons extended, some winged and others astride even more horrific beasts. What a savage way to meet one’s end. The last time, you weren’t there. This is your opportunity to save Cassiopeia. But wait! Look to your right. What do you call those cre
atures bearing down on Síofra?”

  Asabi gasped. “The Empusae! We were fighting them when I was killed.”

  “We don’t have Empusae in our reality. What fascinating creatures: a malevolent cross between demons and vampires that ferociously shred their prey, consume its flesh, and drain its blood. What a truly horrible way to die.”

  “None of this is real,” Asabi said, averting her eyes.

  “But it is,” Morpheus said. “This is your test, Asabi. Which will you save? Choose.”

  Asabi turned back, gazing left and then right, looking at the two girls each in mortal peril.

  “Tick-tock, Asabi. Only seconds left. Delay further and they’ll both die horribly. You still have time to teleport to one and transport her away to safety. Which will it be, the angel or the changeling?”

  Asabi’s eyes darted between the two. It was an impossible choice. And yet, this was the Age of Magic: nothing was impossible anymore. Asabi gazed down at her female form. I’ve changed; not merely physically, but my powers as well. Asabi raised her left arm instinctively and aimed her open palm at the rift the Netherspawn were breaching, while simultaneously pointing her right hand at the swarm of Empusae approaching Síofra. The horde of Netherspawn flew through the wormhole Asabi had created, bypassing Cassiopeia and colliding with the Empusae. Asabi teleported to Síofra’s side, snatched the changeling, and teleported to the ersatz Machen, depositing her with Cassiopeia.

  Morpheus laughed. “Well done, emere. You’ve outwitted the gods. Perhaps you stand a chance against my siblings, as well.”

  “Then, we’ve secured your forbearance?”

  “That depends on how your companions fare in their tests.”

  The mists cleared, revealing Kita had already morphed into her fox form. She tensed and arched her tail, prepared for battle when the beast god of nightmares appeared. “Bring on your test, Phobetor. I shall defeat you or your surrogates.”

  “You misjudge me, kitsune. Just because I have a bestial appearance doesn’t mean I have a belluine temperament. Besides, as you correctly noted, I am a god. If I wanted to destroy you it would be child’s play for me.”

  The fox eyed him suspiciously. “They say those whom the gods wish to destroy they first drive mad. How many men has the god of nightmares pushed beyond the brink of insanity?”

  “Clever fox, aren’t you? Does that mean you’re up for the challenge?” The scene changed and Kita found Phobetor and herself standing outside a suburban estate. “What is this place?”

  “We’re in an American city known as Las Vegas, but not in the reality that exists outside of the Dreamscape,” Phobetor said.

  “An alternate dimension?” Kita asked.

  “More precisely, an unaltered dimension. You see, the Dreamscape is an exogenous realm, not truly a part of any reality. The very nature of this realm is about as far from reality as one can get. My brothers – Morpheus and Phantasos, and my father Hypnos – have always been quite content to exist in our realm. However, my aunts and uncles, along with my grandmother Nyx, were relegated to the Dark Dimension and were less sanguine about their environment.”

  “The Dark Dimension? The biblical birthplace of the Dark Gods?”

  Phobetor nodded. “But it was more than that; it was their prison. However, after an eternity, they eventually escaped and remolded the multiverse into a collection of realms that they would control.” Phobetor paused. “Except, of course, for the Dreamscape.”

  “So that’s why the Oneiroi have always feared the other Dark Gods have designs on the Dreamscape.”

  “It’s the only place in existence they don’t control. Nor shall they. But out there, beyond the Dreamscape, everything that exists is merely an ersatz recreation of what once was.”

  Kita looked at the intricate Japanese rock garden in the backyard. “What a lovely karesansui. It’s reminiscent of the Ryoan-ji garden in Kyoto. How odd to think of such tranquility existing in a land like America.”

  “This was your home in the previous reality.”

  Kita frowned. “America? How could that be? I am Japanese.”

  The scene shifted again and Kita was startled to see Lady Chiyoko in a pagoda in the Kyoto Prefecture. Chiyoko spoke as if addressing her. “You have fulfilled your part of our bargain, kitsune. I shall keep my promise. You shall have safe passage to America for yourself and your beloved.” A slight smile crossed Chiyoko’s lips. “Tell me, does your mortal know your true nature?” Chiyoko laughed. “Always the deceiver. But that’s your affair. Truly, I wish you a fortunate life in your new den, little fox.”

  Kita turned to Phobetor. “What does this mean?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? In the original reality, you fell in love and Lady Chiyoko arranged for you to join your lover in America.”

  Kita shook her head. “No,” she said, confused. “Chiyoko would never allow me to leave Japan.”

  “The original Chiyoko was a tad more compassionate than the one you know. Of course, the vampires in that reality had no need to use kitsune as spies in the Dreamscape. She was willing to let you leave Japan in exchange for a favor, which you provided.”

  The scene shifted from Japan back to the Las Vegas suburban home. Kita morphed into human form. “Chiyoko said my lover was… Mortal?”

  Phobetor nodded. “A human named Reginald Forster.” Phobetor gestured and a man stepped out of the home. “That’s him.”

  Kita studied his features. Although she had never seen him before, she was immediately attracted to him. “He has a kind face.”

  “And great wealth. In this reality, he treated you like a princess.”

  Kita watched as two little girls joined their father on the porch. “Those children…”

  “The twins? I believe you named them Gabriella and Lucille.”

  Kita gasped. “They’re my cubs?”

  “Adorable, aren’t they?”

  The kitsune choked. “I’ve always dreamed of one day having a family but it never seemed possible.” She looked up quizzically at Phobetor. “I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be the god of nightmares but everything you’ve shown me is the opposite of a nightmare. The garden, the lovely home, the devoted lover, and my very own children… It’s paradise.”

  “Indeed it is.” Phobetor’s bestial countenance appeared to grin. “But you misunderstand. What you describe as paradise no longer exists. Your lover and your children were wiped from existence when the Dark Gods reshaped reality.” He spread his arms. “What you’ve seen here isn’t the nightmare; the real nightmare is out there, when you leave the Dreamscape and return to your sad, pathetic life in the present reality. Your entire existence from this point forward will be a living nightmare, as you spend each moment realizing what the Dark Gods have taken from you.” Phobetor broke into a paroxysm of laughter.

  Kita dropped to her knees, overcome by a wave of intense dolor and depression. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can sense that it is.”

  “Yes, clever fox. And I didn’t need to drive you mad to destroy you; all it took was a revelation. The truth will have shattered your psyche and condemned you to a lifetime of despair and grief over an enormous loss you can only imagine.”

  Kita rose, a grim determination etched on her face. “You haven’t broken me, god of nightmares. All you’ve done is inspire me. You’ve given me even more reason to aid Alaric and his friends in their quest to defeat the Dark Gods.”

  Phobetor grimaced. “Impressive. You surprise me. But you realize, if by some infinitesimal chance you do manage to defeat my family, you and the reality you know shall cease to exist.”

  “But it would be replaced by the reality you showed me.”

  “Yes,” Phobetor conceded.

  “Then, I shall gladly sacrifice all that I have for all that I might have. Even if it’s not the same me but rather some alternate version of myself, I shall fight to keep my children from being wiped from existence.”

  “Then you have passed your test, clever fox.”
Phobetor disappeared into the mist.

  Nitrate struggled to keep up with Alaric. “What do you think happened to the others?”

  “This is your realm; you tell me.”

  “One minute we were together and then the mists separated us. Perhaps we should cut our losses and return to your realm.”

  “We don’t abandon our friends and comrades,” Alaric said sternly. He eyed Nitrate cautiously. “Maybe Morgan Summers was right about you, after all.”

  Nitrate dusted off his derby. “That slanderer? You do me a great disservice, my boy. Why I —” he paused when Phantasos materialized in front of them.

  Alaric grimaced. “It looks like our test has arrived.” Alaric stared at the crystal orb protruding from Phantasos’ neck, searching for any sign of humanity within the featureless globe that comprised his face.

  “Such a serious mien on one so young,” the god of prophecy said. “But then, you have a profoundly serious path ahead.”

  “You think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew? Starting a resistance movement across the multiverse, going up against the vampires and werewolves, even confronting the Dark Gods themselves…”

  “Those are significantly challenging goals and tasks that would tax the capabilities of the ablest of men, let alone a boy. Yet, I exist in a realm where reason and logic seldom walk hand-in-hand, and we are all now adrift in the Age of Magic where anything may occur.”

  Nitrate tilted his head. “I can’t judge from the look on your face, since you don’t have one, but it sounds as if you think we might stand a chance?”

  “A chance of success?” Phantasos asked. “Most definitely. There’s always a chance.” He glanced up and held out his hand. “There’s always a chance it might rain; however, the likelihood of it raining actual cats and dogs instead of water is quite another matter.”