Author's Note: Here it is. the sequel to the story 'The Soul Project'.
Some of you wanted me to write one. and well I wanted me to write one too
:) So here is the beginning. prelude kind of thing. I'm not sure how
often this story will be updated or how often I will have time to work on
it, but I will keep working on it, I promise!
It was a dark night, and although it was still warm outside it was cold in little Todd's room. At least, it felt cold. There was a sliver of moon showing through the window, falling across the foot of Todd's bed. He was curled at the other end of his bed, propped on a single pillow and covered in bunched up blankets. He felt tired, but he couldn't sleep.
It wasn't like the scary neighbor man was up laughing crazily. It wasn't like there were any screams coming from his house. It wasn't like Shmee was bothering him. in fact; the bear had been strangely quiet. Todd huddled down in the blankets, squeezing his eyes shut. At least, he could pretend to sleep. But it was only a façade, nothing more, and Todd could not manage to fool himself.
His large, frightened eyes opened again. He pulled the blankets up closer under his chin and hugged his bear Shmee tightly in both arms. It could be hard to get comfortable sometimes, but that was not what was keeping him from sleeping. Todd's gaze drifted again to the moon outside the window, and sitting up a bit he was able to see the flat roof on the decrepit house where the scary neighbor man lived.
Johnny had left a long time ago. He'd come to say goodbye to his little pal, whom he called 'Squee'. Todd didn't mind the nickname, though if he had he wouldn't have been brave enough to say anything. It was better than being called 'kid' by his father, and 'honey' by his mother. His parents had no names for him. Only Johnny did. Todd shivered suddenly at the thought of Nny. The neighbor man had always frightened Todd, but in a strange way he was almost grateful that someone paid him attention, homicidal and maniacal as that person might be.
Still unable to sleep, Todd crawled out of bed and went over to his desk, clutching Shmee. Stacks of paper littered the desk, and Todd climbed into the chair, picked up a pencil, and started drawing.
It gradually became a reasonably recognizable picture of the scary neighbor man, riding on the back of some kind of animal. But for some reason, Todd's hand kept skewing. There was a picture on the paper that he could only see in his mind, and his hand kept jerking, trying to draw that picture. But it was a scary picture, and Todd didn't want to draw it.
The loud call rang out across the waves and lines of energy that criss- crossed the world. Every world. Trees rustled their leaves together in mild curiosity, dryads playing in the branches stopped for a moment to listen, flowers opened their petals and released their sweet aromas, and tiny, withered gnome-like fae stopped their silent pattering across the forest floor.
And all of the astral beings, the plants here and the fae, the spirits and the deities, all looked up to see the familiar shape which cantered across the soft green grass, not harming or even touching it. A large but graceful figure, horse-like, with a silky cascade of mane and tail, and a long spiraled horn upon his forehead. He was pearly white in color, except for a single streak of red-gold that ran from his eye sockets to his nostrils.
Pine wanted their help; many of them recalled him asking before, but some of these beings had only fleeting memories at best. And, as before, they all ignored him, greeting him as he passed, but not mentioning his request. Pine traveled very far, asking any he came across. He did not communicate in words; such a limited method of expression had little purpose here. Feelings, images, and emotions were the communication used here.
Pine was not very expectant of help, but he still held out hope. Passing through the autumn trees of the nearby Faery Land, Pine was greeted by a soft touch on his shoulder, much like a wind brushing him. But this was a touch he easily recognized, and he turned to greet one being who was the closest thing to 'friend' the unicorn had. Pine felt no need for company, so he rarely spent time with anyone else unless he had a reason to.
This particular faery lived in the autumn woods, was tall and pale and shaped roughly like a humanoid. Gleaming blue eyes, in sharp contrast to the misty complexion, were surrounded by faint patterns of brown and orange. There was something long and flowing trailing from the being's head that resembled hair, and this hair was streaked with gold, orange, and red. This spirit let itself simply be known as Spoke.
Spoke admired the unicorn's age and power, though it was completely content with its own abilities. But the reason Pine asked Spoke for help now was that Spoke was a very flighty being, prone to making many friends and enemies. At the moment, Spoke held in its wispy grasp a bunch of brilliant orange and red leaves, arranged much like a bouquet. Pine asked the fae, and it agreed to help him.
Spoke had had its share of human interactions, as well. It had used to tell Pine stories, which the unicorn had listened to faithfully. Though he found them superfluous at best, it did not bore or annoy him to hear the stories. Spoke had often befriended children before, as human children were more psychically sensitive than adults. Though the fae had, on a couple of occasions, made an adult human friend, lover, or co-magician. Pine found most of Spoke's activities with humans to be a complete waste of time. Rarely did the fae attempt to teach his affiliated humans anything.
But Spoke had more than human friends, and that was what Pine needed now. He could not stop the Project on his own. Not with so many magick- wielders running it and guarding it from interference. And after he had successfully stopped the unnatural twisting of energy that these mages were behind, there was another issue Pine wanted to attempt to resolve. The issue of a tortured human soul held prisoner by a creature powerful enough to toss even other ancient beings around like rag dolls.
A myriad of roiling chaos and pain, an endless pit which he could not climb out of, and indeed kept falling deeper into. He screamed endlessly, but there was no sound, even when it felt like his throat should have been torn asunder, he knew he did not have a throat with which to scream. The thing toyed with him, warping his mind and his perception, or what was left of it. Nightmares too terrible and outlandish for the human mind to even comprehend were forced ruthlessly into his brain. And still, he could not hear himself screaming. He only knew that it would never stop. Not when it had hold of him so firmly.
But why was it after him? Why did it want him, if it was free now? He had visited other realms before, though he could not be sure of the reality of them. It might've been a dream, just like this was, except this was a nightmare world from which there was no waking. If he had had the mental capacity to be afraid, or angry, he would've been. But he couldn't. There was only pain, screaming, and endless, endless frustration.
Sometimes it would let him alone for a short moment. In those few moments when he could think clearly, he had time to recognize it, and hate it, before it sunk its disgusting influence into his mind again. He remembered things only in flashes during these short moments, and often what he remembered was tainted by what the thing wanted him to remember. He remembered Pine, but with a hatred that was not, originally, his own. He remembered Squee, but only as a flicker that had no meaning. And somewhere, during these points of clarity, he knew that this would never end until the thing wanted it to. And the thing did not care.
It was a dark night, and although it was still warm outside it was cold in little Todd's room. At least, it felt cold. There was a sliver of moon showing through the window, falling across the foot of Todd's bed. He was curled at the other end of his bed, propped on a single pillow and covered in bunched up blankets. He felt tired, but he couldn't sleep.
It wasn't like the scary neighbor man was up laughing crazily. It wasn't like there were any screams coming from his house. It wasn't like Shmee was bothering him. in fact; the bear had been strangely quiet. Todd huddled down in the blankets, squeezing his eyes shut. At least, he could pretend to sleep. But it was only a façade, nothing more, and Todd could not manage to fool himself.
His large, frightened eyes opened again. He pulled the blankets up closer under his chin and hugged his bear Shmee tightly in both arms. It could be hard to get comfortable sometimes, but that was not what was keeping him from sleeping. Todd's gaze drifted again to the moon outside the window, and sitting up a bit he was able to see the flat roof on the decrepit house where the scary neighbor man lived.
Johnny had left a long time ago. He'd come to say goodbye to his little pal, whom he called 'Squee'. Todd didn't mind the nickname, though if he had he wouldn't have been brave enough to say anything. It was better than being called 'kid' by his father, and 'honey' by his mother. His parents had no names for him. Only Johnny did. Todd shivered suddenly at the thought of Nny. The neighbor man had always frightened Todd, but in a strange way he was almost grateful that someone paid him attention, homicidal and maniacal as that person might be.
Still unable to sleep, Todd crawled out of bed and went over to his desk, clutching Shmee. Stacks of paper littered the desk, and Todd climbed into the chair, picked up a pencil, and started drawing.
It gradually became a reasonably recognizable picture of the scary neighbor man, riding on the back of some kind of animal. But for some reason, Todd's hand kept skewing. There was a picture on the paper that he could only see in his mind, and his hand kept jerking, trying to draw that picture. But it was a scary picture, and Todd didn't want to draw it.
The loud call rang out across the waves and lines of energy that criss- crossed the world. Every world. Trees rustled their leaves together in mild curiosity, dryads playing in the branches stopped for a moment to listen, flowers opened their petals and released their sweet aromas, and tiny, withered gnome-like fae stopped their silent pattering across the forest floor.
And all of the astral beings, the plants here and the fae, the spirits and the deities, all looked up to see the familiar shape which cantered across the soft green grass, not harming or even touching it. A large but graceful figure, horse-like, with a silky cascade of mane and tail, and a long spiraled horn upon his forehead. He was pearly white in color, except for a single streak of red-gold that ran from his eye sockets to his nostrils.
Pine wanted their help; many of them recalled him asking before, but some of these beings had only fleeting memories at best. And, as before, they all ignored him, greeting him as he passed, but not mentioning his request. Pine traveled very far, asking any he came across. He did not communicate in words; such a limited method of expression had little purpose here. Feelings, images, and emotions were the communication used here.
Pine was not very expectant of help, but he still held out hope. Passing through the autumn trees of the nearby Faery Land, Pine was greeted by a soft touch on his shoulder, much like a wind brushing him. But this was a touch he easily recognized, and he turned to greet one being who was the closest thing to 'friend' the unicorn had. Pine felt no need for company, so he rarely spent time with anyone else unless he had a reason to.
This particular faery lived in the autumn woods, was tall and pale and shaped roughly like a humanoid. Gleaming blue eyes, in sharp contrast to the misty complexion, were surrounded by faint patterns of brown and orange. There was something long and flowing trailing from the being's head that resembled hair, and this hair was streaked with gold, orange, and red. This spirit let itself simply be known as Spoke.
Spoke admired the unicorn's age and power, though it was completely content with its own abilities. But the reason Pine asked Spoke for help now was that Spoke was a very flighty being, prone to making many friends and enemies. At the moment, Spoke held in its wispy grasp a bunch of brilliant orange and red leaves, arranged much like a bouquet. Pine asked the fae, and it agreed to help him.
Spoke had had its share of human interactions, as well. It had used to tell Pine stories, which the unicorn had listened to faithfully. Though he found them superfluous at best, it did not bore or annoy him to hear the stories. Spoke had often befriended children before, as human children were more psychically sensitive than adults. Though the fae had, on a couple of occasions, made an adult human friend, lover, or co-magician. Pine found most of Spoke's activities with humans to be a complete waste of time. Rarely did the fae attempt to teach his affiliated humans anything.
But Spoke had more than human friends, and that was what Pine needed now. He could not stop the Project on his own. Not with so many magick- wielders running it and guarding it from interference. And after he had successfully stopped the unnatural twisting of energy that these mages were behind, there was another issue Pine wanted to attempt to resolve. The issue of a tortured human soul held prisoner by a creature powerful enough to toss even other ancient beings around like rag dolls.
A myriad of roiling chaos and pain, an endless pit which he could not climb out of, and indeed kept falling deeper into. He screamed endlessly, but there was no sound, even when it felt like his throat should have been torn asunder, he knew he did not have a throat with which to scream. The thing toyed with him, warping his mind and his perception, or what was left of it. Nightmares too terrible and outlandish for the human mind to even comprehend were forced ruthlessly into his brain. And still, he could not hear himself screaming. He only knew that it would never stop. Not when it had hold of him so firmly.
But why was it after him? Why did it want him, if it was free now? He had visited other realms before, though he could not be sure of the reality of them. It might've been a dream, just like this was, except this was a nightmare world from which there was no waking. If he had had the mental capacity to be afraid, or angry, he would've been. But he couldn't. There was only pain, screaming, and endless, endless frustration.
Sometimes it would let him alone for a short moment. In those few moments when he could think clearly, he had time to recognize it, and hate it, before it sunk its disgusting influence into his mind again. He remembered things only in flashes during these short moments, and often what he remembered was tainted by what the thing wanted him to remember. He remembered Pine, but with a hatred that was not, originally, his own. He remembered Squee, but only as a flicker that had no meaning. And somewhere, during these points of clarity, he knew that this would never end until the thing wanted it to. And the thing did not care.