Chapter 2
-Sunday, August 4th, 2013-
Daybreak. I don't remember when I fell asleep again, but it clearly wasn't for long, because now I feel like my body is superglued to my bed. I just flat out do not want to get up. I lay in bed for a while longer until my phone's ringtone snaps me out of my grogginess.
"Hu-…hello?" I blurt out, rubbing my eyes.
"Hi Tyson," Aunt Joanne says on the other line. "S-sorry, did I wake you up?"
"No, technically not," I tell her in honesty.
"Oh. Well, anyways, I was going to wait to leave until you were awake, but my boss told me to come in immediately, so I had to go. Sorry about that. There's still leftover pizza from last night if you're hungry."
Pizza? Why would I eat pizza for breakfast?
My phone clock reads 2 PM.
Mother of God, I slept past noon.
"Yeah, alright. Thanks."
"Why not go explore the neighborhood on your last day off?" she suggests. "There's a bike in the garage. You might need to refill the tires, though."
I decide that to be a fantastic idea. Maybe some fresh air and exercise is what I need. To make it even better, it's slightly cloudy out, so it seems it'll be more cool than humid.
"I might just do that," I reply, now sitting up in my bed.
"Alright then. I'll be home later tonight."
"Mm'kay. See you then."
-Click-
Not one for goodbyes, huh?
I wash up and once again put on my summer outfit. I heat up some pizza, making sure to save a couple slices for later tonight, and chow them down within seconds. I'm surprised I'm this hungry. As Aunt Joanne said, there's an old bike inside the garage just leaning up against the wall. It looks a little small, but it's no big deal. It's in good condition and its dark blue paint is still strikingly clean. She was right, though; the tires are almost entirely flat. I fish out a bike pump from the boxes of crap scattered throughout the garage and ready up the vehic-…machi-…
What even are bikes?
Nevertheless, I am now riding through the neighborhood at full speed. As predicted, the weather is downright perfect; the cool air is flying past my face, blowing my hair around and keeping me sweat-free. The best part is how much room I have to explore. I would rarely get this huge of an area to bike in when I lived in New York. Most of the time, all I had was a park. This sense of freedom makes me feel…well, free.
Screw the neighborhood. I'm gonna trek this whole town.
I take off out of the development and out into the street. Because of how close the airport is, there's a decent amount of traffic, but the majority of those people probably don't even live in the town. It's like Gode is just a launchpad for everyone's vacations.
The worn-out end of town approaches, and I decide to check out the strip mall there. Small family-owned places, mostly, one of them being a bookstore. Out of sheer curiosity, I decide to check it out. I put the bike up against the wall, silently cursing myself for not getting some sort of lock so I wouldn't have to explain to my aunt why her bike got stolen. Walking into the bookstore felt like getting slapped in the face with an old sock.
Smells like rotting piss in here…
It's incredibly dark inside the store, and what little light seeps through the windows up in the rafters illuminates dust specks that dance around the massive bookcases. Speaking of books, the books in here look centuries old. People must never come in here, either, because the shelves are literally overflowing with unsold books. Opened cardboard boxes are scattered across the floor each with their own torrent of novels flowing out of them.
"Is someone there?" I call out. The room is so full of crap that my voice sounds muffled and weak.
After a moment of quiet, I assume the owner is out or in the bathroom. As I turn to leave…
"H-holy shi-!"
"What do you want."
As if from thin air, an old hunched man with a cane and massive beard has appeared behind me. His tiny eyes squint at me with a new form of distain.
"For you to not give me a heart attack!"
The geezer doesn't really appreciate the humor, though to be honest, I wasn't trying to be funny.
"Youth. You have no place here. These are archives for aged ones. Out with you."
"But…"
"Out." As he says this, he shoves the end of his cane into my chest.
And that's when the wooden cracks in the cane start to glow blue.
The man's tiny eyes go as wide as they can. His entire demeanor seems to change.
"You…" he says. "You're a-…"
I stare at him for a moment.
"…can you move your…wand…thing?"
The man clears his throat and complies. He makes a slight motion with his hand for me to follow him as he scuttles deeper into the store. I quickly look back at the door. I could leave right this very second, but something's telling me to go after him. Either my curiosity has gotten the best of me, or I've officially snapped.
I follow the man and the two of us end up in some sort of backorder room that I swear is even stuffier than the main lobby. He hands me his cane, which, again, glows blue upon contact, and he begins shuffling through piles of books before finding the one he wanted. It's a dusty leather-bound book, with a large locket keeping it closed. We swap our items and he leans in close, far closer than I ever wanted anyone to get to me.
"Give this to him when you see him next. Tell him I'm sorry it took so long."
"Who're you talking abou-"
"Go. Leave me be."
Oh, great, just what I wanted. To be handed random crap by some old pedophile and shoved out the door.
"But I don't even know what this-!"
I'm cut off by the slamming and locking of the store's wooden door.
"Nice to meet you, too…" I murmur to myself.
{~}
"Why won't you open?!"
I had made the trip back home and was now attempting to pry the lock off this book, but no matter how hard I try, whether it be with a hammer or pliers, it just won't open. The metal won't even bend. Either I'm weaker than I thought, or this is more of that unexplainable stuff that's been happening lately.
Why couldn't I have moved somewhere else? Literally anywhere else?
I decide that there's nothing else I can do with this book for now besides look at it. I brush off the excess amount of dust and reveal the front is decorated with…a pentagram?
Okay, I need to get rid of this.
I lightly toss it into the fireplace and smile at my handiwork. Or, I try to, at least. My smile fades as a few minutes pass.
Why isn't it burning. Oh my god, it isn't burning. Holy shit.
With various tools by the fireplace, I manage to fish out the hellspawn of a book and examine it more closely, and yup, it didn't burn at all. The entire thing is unscathed. Slumping onto the ground, I drop the book and grab my face, the stress ready to make me outright explode. This kind of stuff shouldn't be happening to me. Not like I did anything to deserve it.
I take a deep breath, say, "Screw it," and take the book back up to my room, giving it a home in my nightstand drawer.
This town's full of psychos.
{~}
A couple hours pass by and I realize that I've been sitting on the couch eating Maria's brownies and watching the news practically all day.
…eh, I exercised. I earned it.
"And now for the weather," a decently attractive weatherwoman states. "Looks like the week is going to start off a bit cloudy and we might see some rain throughout the middle of the week, but as we reach the tail end of it, the sun should start to reappear, and next Sunday could possibly be sunny once again."
"Tch. These guys are never right," I tell myself as I down another brownie. There could be truth behind her words, though; the clouds from this morning never let up, even into the dark of night.
"…-nd the front should subside. Now back to your anchors."
A male news anchor now appears on the screen. "Thanks Bailey. Now for the top story of the day. As we reported earlier, it seems as though Bethany Jones, a morning talk show host for a local radio station in the small town of Gode, North Dakota, was found unmoving in her bed this afternoon after her coworkers grew suspicious of her not showing up for work earlier this morning."
Why does that sound familiar…?
"It appears as though she's still alive, but is not responding. She had shown no signs of trauma previously, and doctors are baffled. The police have been called in to perform an investigation by the request of her family, but it's unsure if they'll take the case, as there are no signs of foul play, either."
Oh, now I remember. Yesterday…that was the lady on the radio.
I reach for another brownie, but find the plate empty. Looks like I'm going to have to explain that to Aunt Joanne later. Speaking of her, she still hasn't come home, and it's nearing ten o'clock. She did say she'd be out late, but it's starting to feel like waiting is a lost cause. The news turned to a relatively frustrating topic, so now's as good a time as ever to call it a night.
Besides, I've got school tomorrow.
{~}
-Monday, August 5th, 2013-
Another day, another lack of Aunt Joanne. I have a feeling I'll be alone a lot.
In her stead is a pile of school supplies, all in a neat pile on the kitchen counter. A note beside them reads, "Sorry I couldn't see you off. Have a good first day!" and a little heart drawing beside it. Appreciating the sentiment, I hurriedly pack the same backpack I used to move in with the folders, pencils, etcetera. The time is currently six forty-five. I've got time to kill.
Snatching a breakfast pastry from the pantry and savoring the flavor, I take one last look at myself in the mirror. My acne is entirely gone, my hair is evenly combed ever so slightly to the left, and my denim jeans, black rubber bracelet, and red t-shirt, my standard school clothes for the warmer weather, are all neat and ironed…more or less. Double-checking my belongings reassures me that I have my phone, its charger, my earbuds, wallet, all my school supplies…the key…
A silver sedan approaches the driveway of the house and screeches to a halt. I finish the pastry and dash to the car, opening the right back door.
"'Ey, dude!" a boy in the passenger seat says to me. A sophomore, most likely. "Hop in!"
"Thanks," I mutter as I take my spot in the back seat. Next to me is Maria, looking more tired than shy this time. Now she's got on baby blue shorts and a baggy off-white t-shirt. A necklace with smooth coral blue teardrop-shaped gems hangs from her neck. I assume this to be what she usually wears this time of year. "Hello again," I say to her with a smile.
Snapping out of her daze, she looks to me with a smile of her own and grunts a greeting back.
"Don't take the silence personally," another brother to Maria's left, seemingly a sophomore as well, tells me with a chuckle. "She's not a morning person." The other sophomore brother laughs with him.
Well, that's one thing we have in common.
The eldest brother sitting in the driver's seat, presumably a senior, kicks the car into gear and bolts back down the driveway, heading for the exit to the neighborhood at a speed that should really get him pulled over.
"So who's your boyfriend there?" the senior says.
Her what?!
"M-my wh-what?!" Maria's suddenly alert and awake…and flustered. "He's-…we-…w-we're not…"
"Dude, we just met," I tell him, trying to save her from her cheeks getting any redder. If it does that, she could make me another batch of brownies by throwing batter in her face.
The senior just smirks to himself. "Whatever, man."
Sophomore number two, for the rest of the car ride, just keeps nudging Maria and asking her about me, despite her quiet protests. Sophomore number one tries talking to me about the crazy car he's planning on buying when he gets older, but I'm not listening. I'm half focused on keeping myself from punching sophomore number two and trying to not go into total panic mode from senior's batshit crazy driving. We eventually reach a school, but it's not the high school. 'Sophomore' number two leaps out of the car and goes into a sprint into the school.
Holy crap, that annoying little brat is an eighth grader.
We arrive to Gode High School in record time (whether or not that's a good thing is debatable) before anyone can pester Maria again. Senior and Sophomore both get out and walk off into the school, leaving us two by our lonesome in the parking lot, which snakes through the school's surprisingly beautiful front lawn.
"I'm sorry about them…" she apologizes.
I shrug it off. "No big deal. Brothers are brothers, right?"
That response almost makes her more downtrodden. "Hmm…I guess so…"
Knowing that if I try harder I'm just gonna piss her off, I derail the subject. "So, what class do you have first?"
She flips through the first binder in the pile she's been holding in her arms and comes across her schedule. "AP Math," she points out.
Geez, AP as a freshman?
"You like math?"
"Sort of," she answers. "I like the algebra, but certain subjects just don't mesh well with me."
I've noticed that her speech has become a little more fluid as our conversation goes on, only to immediately go back to stuttering and mumbling when we walk through the school doors. She examines her school map before saying goodbye to me and walking off.
The inside is mostly brown brick with light white floor tile. The school's colors, which are exemplified in the "Welcome Students!" banners on the ceiling, are black, white, and gold. A little bland, but the sports teams will look badass. There aren't too many students in the hallways yet, but they could flood up any minute now with new arrivals. I take the time to find my first classroom – American Literature.
At least I'm starting off with something remotely interesting.
Walking into the classroom I immediately spot a couple of students. One glasses-wearing girl is sitting in the very front row organizing her stuff, two guys and one girl are sitting on the desks, chatting it up in the middle of the room, and in the very back row with his head down is Emile, who's wearing khaki shorts and a white t-shirt with a gray silhouette of an electric guitar across the chest. The teacher is nowhere to be found.
I walk up to Emile and nudge his elbow.
"'Ey, dude. Rise and shine!" I joke with him.
He groans and lifts his head. "What the hell do you-…" he stops upon recognizing me. "O-oh, hey! It's you! 'Sup, man?" The two of us fistbump before I take a seat in the desk in front of him.
"Not much," I tell him. "Pretty tired, though."
Emile chuckles. "Well, yeah. It's a cloudy Monday. Of course everyone's gonna be dead tired!"
I shrug. "True. But it's the beginning of the school year. You'd think people would be…I dunno, excited? Even a little?"
"Excited?" Emile looks at me like my skin turned green. "It's school for God's sake. It's the time of the year where you have, like, no freedom at all."
"Well geez, if you look at it that way…"
"What other way is there to look at it?" Emile smiling lets me know he's just messing with me. "Did'ya see the place? Looks like a damn prison."
Well, he's not wrong.
"I'd rather look at school like the start of something new," I say. "Y'know, as a chance to meet new people."
Emile chuckles again. "You're friggin' crazy, you know that?"
Suddenly the school bell goes off. I look to the rest of the classroom and see that the rest of the students had shown up, the last couple stragglers rushing through the door trying not to be late and ultimately failing. The teacher, a relatively young woman, stands at the front of the class and begins calling off the attendance sheet.
"Ellie Bordeaux…"
"Here."
"Tyler Clark…"
"Here."
The teacher continues down the list until she eventually reaches me.
"Tyson Rayne…"
"Here," I pronounce as I raise my hand.
"Emile Truman…"
…
"Emile Truman?"
I turn around and see Emile has passed out again, this time with his head propped up with his forearm. Thinking fast, I swipe his arm out from under him, causing him to faceplant his desk and wake up.
"Snort-…huh…wh-wha-? Oh, h-here!"
The class laughs slightly, the teacher included. Emile shoots me a dirty look, but I just smile at him.
He'll laugh about it later. …hopefully.
{~}
The next three classes pass by somewhat quickly. Second period marketing has a male teacher, this one being pretty nice and promises many creative projects. Third period is music tech, which will include some minor music theory taught by another male teacher. Not exactly happy about having to relearn music theory, but I'll need to refresh my memory on stuff like this if I ever plan on picking guitar up again in the future. The other students in the class sure seem like the creative type, one of them being a guy with an anime-themed shoulder bag and a girl with black hair in a large raised ponytail. Fourth period is history, taught by yet another male teacher. Contrary to most history classes I've been in, this guy seems really fun to have as a teacher. Lunch took place before fourth period, but I couldn't find anyone I knew, so I sat alone with some real shitty pizza. Overall, so far, so good.
As I'm leaving history and I trudge into the surging crowd, I look at my next period. The word 'Physics' stares back at me from the sheet.
Aw, dammit.
I walk into the classroom, this being one built for science classes with black counters and stools instead of standard desks. I scan the room looking for anyone I know, despite the last few classes crushing my hopes of having another one with Emile or one with-…
"Hey, Maria!" I greet the blonde as I walk up to her seat.
She nearly jumps at seeing me, her blush once again returning. "T-Tyson!"
"Mind if I sit next to you?" I ask with a smile. She shakes her head and I take my seat to her right.
These stools are murder on my back.
"Physics and AP Math, huh?" I say to her. "And only a freshman, too. You must be some sort of prodigy."
She somehow manages to blush harder. "I-it's…well, I guess so," she stammers out. "At the rate I'm going, my counselor says I could graduate after Junior year and skip my Senior year entirely."
I notice a thick sketchbook in her pile of stuff. "You draw?" I question as I point at the wire-bound book.
"Oh, uh…yeah," she replies.
"Mind if I…?"
She shakes her head slightly and pulls the book out from her stuff, flipping it open and showing me her drawings.
Good God, these are amazing…
The book is full of wonderfully-shaded drawings of people and scenery, all of them looking so realistic I swear I could jump into the pages like portals.
"These are really good…" I tell her. "I'd never be able to draw like this."
She smiles sheepishly. "It just takes a little practice. Oh," she exclaims as she flips to another page, this one being a close-up of a girl with flowing hair and closed eyes. "I've submitted this one to a portrait contest. I don't know if it's been accepted yet, but I hope I'll hear back soon."
"Wouldn't be surprised if you won," I honestly tell her. "Never seen anything so realistic done in pencil before."
She's once again become comfortable talking to me. Hopefully her attitude stays like that.
I examine the room to see who else is in this class. Nobody else really stands out, but a couple people I've seen but haven't talked to in my other classes are in this one with me as well. Maria is to my left, but to my right is the same glasses-wearing boy I saw with the girl in the yellow dress at the strip mall on my first day here. He's sleeping the same way Emile had this morning when the teacher called him.
This teacher, an older male, begins calling out roll. Eventually he reaches a name that nobody answers to, but the other students look over to the glasses kid next to me.
Thud
"H-here!" he shouts as he lifts his reddened head up from the table.
This is my new favorite thing to do to people.
{~}
"My face still hurts."
"Dude, I said I was sorry."
Emile and I are now in the last period of the day – Math. My previous class, driver's ed., kind of just flew by. Electives tend to do that.
"Hah, I know, man. I'm just guilt tripping you."
The rest of the class rushes by, with the only female teacher in my schedule except for first period introducing the class with basic information like where to turn in their homework.
Halfway through the class, the clouds burst with a torrent of rain.
Hope it clears up before I get off the bus. The stop's way down the road.
As the final bell of the day rings, my headache from yesterday seems to return, ringing and all. Emile takes notice of my rubbing my temple and asks me if I'm alright.
(Magician.)
For the love of-…
"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie. "Probably coming down with something."
"Hmm…" he grunts. "…well, hey, get better quick, alright? Was thinking we could hang out sometime this week."
That was fast.
"Oh, sure. I'll let you know when I'm up for it."
"Sweet! Lemme get your number real quick."
The two of us swap phone numbers and go our separate ways at the bus pickup. Boarding my bus, I find the inside to be real musty due to the rain. During the whole ride home, I struggle to stay awake.
{~}
Slam
And now I'm home, standing by the front door, completely and utterly soaked. I blame karma.
"You're hom-…oh. Crap," Aunt Joanne says as I walk in. "U-um…sorry about that."
"It's fine," I say as my skin twitches under the clothes. I distain having wet clothes. The momentary adrenaline of running home begins to pass and the tiredness settles in again. "I'm gonna take a nap."
"A-alright…" she responds, obviously feeling bad. To be honest, I am a little upset. If she was home, she could've picked me up.
Whatever. Water under the bridge. …or on my clothes. Both, really.
I dry off in the bathroom before switching my clothes out for sweatpants and a t-shirt and flop onto my bed. With nothing but the sound of rain reaching my ears, I drop into a comfortable sleep.
{~}
I'm still lying on my back, but a rigid cold surface is underneath me. I'm not in my bed anymore. My eyes crack open as I force myself to stand. Doing so seems much more difficult than it should be, probably due to the intense pressure of the room. It feels as though something is shoving me down.
Looking around, I determine that I'm in a school. Not Gode, though. It's my old school in New York. The walls are painted black and blue, and the whole place just seems so much more homey, yet demented at the same time.
Another nightmare?!
I hear a noise coming from the darkness. No ceiling lights are on so the school's only slightly lit by the moonlight coming through the windows, but the far reaches of the hallways seem darker than they should be, as if they'll swallow me up-…okay, so they might actually do that. Black tendrils of darkness lash out from the hallway, grabbing my ankles and pulling me to the ground.
"Sh-shit-OOMPH!"
I grab for the floor and manage to hold on to the cracks in the tiles. The shadowy arms have a firm grip and tug me towards the cloud of blackness behind me, but I refuse to let them take me. I'm not going down without a fight, even if this is some crazy dream.
It's then that I see a shape appear at the other end of the hall in the same way my mother had in my nightmare the other night. It's a girl, my height, with striking eyes and long brunette hair. She's in a beautiful dress covered in flowers. I'd know that face anywhere, despite not seeing her for the longest time.
"Anna…"
Unlike the other night, however, the figure – my ex-girlfriend from New York – calls out to me.
"Tyson…"
The tendrils reach out for her as well, pulling her in the opposite direction. I can hear her scream, but alongside it is another scream, one I can't recognize. I claw at the floor, pulling as hard as I can, but the tendrils are stronger. I manage to kick one off, giving myself some leverage. Anything to use to my advantage. I run forward, trying to reach Anna.
"Anna!"
She screams again, this time with more fear than I've ever heard coming from a person. Another shadowy arm grabs my wrist, only for me to get a surge of adrenaline.
"Get…off of me!"
I rip the arm out of the pool of darkness with my strength alone, and stomp out the remaining arms clutching my ankles. With all my strength, I rush forward down the hallway, diving for Anna's hands and tug hard.
"I'm not letting you die here!"
"T-Tyson?!"
"Come on! Don't give up!"
"What's going on?!"
"That doesn't matter! Just help me out here!"
The two of us struggle as hard as we possibly can, but the wall of darkness behind me has shifted, moving closer and closer to the both of us. The arms reach out again, one grabbing me by the neck and another by the right calf. All I can do I pull harder on Anna, but the arms are pulling on her just as hard.
"Tyson, I can't…"
"Stop it! Don't say that!"
A single tear streams down her face. No matter how hard I'm trying to save her, she's given up hope. She's finished. The desperation and knowledge that I can't win this fight seeps in and I start wailing and crying again. I want to save her. I want to help her. I don't want to give up. But I don't seem to have a choice. With one last pull, I'm dragged into the darkness, my grip ripped from hers, and Anna is pulled into her own cloud of black, blood-curling cries echoing through the emptiness.
The darkness fades away to reveal the school courtyard, only the walls are seeping with blood and the tendrils, reaching out from the ground, still have a firm hold on me. The sky is cloudy and dark, but everything is somehow still illuminated in light blue.
"It's your fault."
"H-huh?!"
I look up to see a large burly figure entirely made of a dark purple pulsating shadowy mass. In his right arm, holding her by the throat, is Anna, only she's limp and entirely a crystalline blue. Her eyes are a plain soulless white.
"You did this to her." The voice tells me. It seems to be coming from the figure, and seems vaguely familiar, but terribly distorted. "It was your choice. You brought this hell on her."
"What're you talking about?!" I scream. "Let her go, dammit!"
"It's too late," it continues. "You were offered bliss and you chose to escape. You made the conscious decision to abandon a happier place. Now you'll experience true purgatory for such actions. You'll suffer for it, and for all the other crimes you've committed."
"Wh-what the hell…" I can't believe my ears. He's spouting total bullshit if he's talking about last night's nightmare. That wasn't bliss; it was downright insulting. And 'brought this hell on her'? What does that even mean? "What are you talking about?! I wasn't the one that hurt her! It was a huge mistake!"
"Lies. All of it. You know the truth. You, deep down, know of the evils you committed. You knew full well the potential consequences. No matter of words or actions can repair the damages you caused. This is where you die, Tyson Rayne."
The figure approaches me, dropping the figure of Anna on the ground, parts of it shattering to bits against the concrete. My stomach churns at the sight.
This can't be happening…I'm gonna die here…
The ringing goes off in my ears again, so deafening it's like a gunshot right by my head. Random gibberish voices cycle through my brain, all of them screaming at me. If this keeps going, I'm going to go completely postal. I'm on the brink of insanity.
As if it was cycling through languages, the voices settle on one to speak. It plays in my mind, speaking strongly and clearly.
I…am thou…
Wh-?!
Thou…art I…
From the sea of thy soul, I call out to thee…
Open thine eyes and awaken what is within…
A source of warmth appears before me. I look up and open my eyes as directed. I see floating in front of me a blue playing card, with violet flames circling it. It's spinning slowly, radiating a crazy amount of power and casting a cool glow across my face. The backside has the same symbol as on the Velvet Key, while the other side is a blank silver.
I reach my hand out, my open palm facing upwards towards the card, as if I know what I'm doing, like it's second nature. My mouth opens, a single word deep in my throat.
"Per…"
The flames on the card glow brighter.
"So…"
A ring of energy circles me, the dark arms within range disintegrating.
"Na…"
The large figure steps back, clearly afraid.
I'd be, too.
With a final burst of strength, I crush the card with my hand, energy exploding from my body and the card shattering like glass. A loud yell from within my stomach bursts forth, echoing in the emptiness in the realm of my dream. I feel…powerful. This newfound power brings me to my feet. I notice that the explosion of energy from within me was just that – an explosion. It completely leveled the walls of the school around me, leaving just me and the shadowy figure, who was still keeping his distance.
I am Ixion…
He who was banished to the Underworld for wrongdoings…
(To hell with that, though.)
The voice was now within my head, talking directly to me.
(I'm not gonna let someone keep me down like that.)
I look above me, shocked at what I see. It's a tall man in a fancy black business suit and tie. His left hand is placed on the knot of the tie, and his right hand is holding a sword. A metal clasp is on his left ankle, a chain leading from it to a large floating metal ball. Fire erupts from it, emitting an orange light among the blue.
(Good job on summoning me, kid. Just in time, too.)
He drops his sword from above me, letting it land in my hand. It's the perfect weight, with a long blade and a wooden handle.
The entity, who calls himself Ixion, readjusts his tie and his thick black sunglasses. His slicked-back blonde hair slightly waves in the energy flying around the air.
(We gonna kick some ass, or what?)
I flash a maniacal grin. I wanted to fight, didn't I?
The blue flames subside, but my strength remains.
"COME ON!" I scream as I rush for the Shadow.
It quickly comes to its senses and reels back its left fist, ready to punch. I leap out of the way and use the momentum to bounce off my heel and thrust my blade deep into the right shoulder. It screams out in pain and throws me off if its body. I grunt as I hit the hard floor, bouncing multiple times. Normally extreme force would knock you out of a dream, but this is all too real. Somehow, though, I'm barely hurt, when something like that would give any normal person a headache.
Clearly, I'm not normal anymore.
"Ixion! Agi!" I yell out, somehow recalling the name of something that I knew would help me.
The floating figure of Ixion snaps his fingers, and a blast of fire erupts around the Shadow, who flies backwards. The force of the blast sends my sword out of its shoulder and into the air, to which I run after and catch before it hits the ground. Ixion disappears into a blue mist after performing the fire spell.
(Call me whenever you need me, kid. It's my job, after all.)
Before the Shadow could get to its feet, I go into a full sprint, leap into the air, and thrust the sword downward in an icepick grip straight into its heart.
"AAAAUGH!"
I pull the sword back out, adjusting my grip and reaching behind me for a wide swing to its neck. The horizontal cut brings forth a spray of black and red liquid, presumably its blood. It once again grabs me and throws me. It's weakening, but it isn't over yet.
As if by will alone, Ixion's card, which now has a picture of him on the side that was previously blank, floats down in front of me. I backhand it with my left hand, breaking it, and Ixion reappears before me.
(You catch on fast.)
I've been told.
"Cleave!"
Ixion spawns another sword, one identical to mine, and rushes the Shadow at a surprising speed for one who's chained down. It slices diagonally across the whole of the Shadow, and before it can retaliate, Ixion vanishes once more.
The Shadow is now leaning on one knee, in pain and unable to move.
"I'm done with this!" I scream as I run towards the Shadow and plunge my blade directly into its scalp. It lets out a roar of pain, and dissolves into a pool of the blood. I stand there, hunched over, breathing heavily.
Even though I'm dreaming, I feel my body is worn out. I close my eyes and drop to the floor. The world around me begins to disappear, fading to white. I feel my body waking up, but in a way that feels pure as opposed to dropping into an abyss like last time.
I feel good.
Tyson Rayne's new power places freedom within reach.
He has awakened to the Persona Ixion,
The façade used to overcome one's hardships.
{~}
My eyes snap open. Above me is the ceiling of my bedroom, the fan casting shadows throughout. On my nightstand is a lukewarm plate of steak. Seems I slept through dinner.
I grab my face and rub my eyes, still recovering from my nightmare-…no, it wasn't a nightmare. It was too real. I felt it all. That new power…
Persona…
It's mine now.