09-15-2024, 02:38 AM
Before Jaxen could decipher of the sensation, m'Antinomian declared him one of them—or more accurately, part of it. The power still coursed through him, but now something else threaded alongside it, something wholly different yet unmistakably connected. It was as if a pinprick had opened in his mind, and through that tiny aperture, he could sense the boundless vastness of space itself—like threading his fingers through a tear in the night and feeling the distant stars slip through his grasp.
This new awareness tugged at him, elusive and maddening, a whisper on the edge of perception. The hive—this digital pantheon of members—hovered just beyond his reach, immense and unknowable. He couldn’t yet understand its language, its logic, but the pull was undeniable. It was not just power flowing through him now; it was knowledge, consciousness, stretching out toward him, tempting him to delve deeper.
Before he could fully comprehend this new connection, m'Antinomian was yanked away, his presence ripped from Jaxen’s mind like a shattering window. The glowing reality around him dissolved. He stumbled, his body lurching forward, instinct alone keeping him from crashing to the floor.
In a blink, the world reasserted itself. He found himself back in Nox’s house. It felt like mere seconds had passed, yet everything had changed. Sage was suddenly there, and the Emissary had moved away. Jaxen frowned, blinking through the lingering haze of that fractured reality. His eyes fell on the kid, still suspended in the air, bathed in the glow of the Ancient Power.
A surge of frustration welled up inside him. He yanked off his mask, letting it drop to the floor, his teeth clenched. “I better not see your face again,” he growled, though he knew he wouldn’t actually harm some kid. His hand flicked dismissively. “Go. Before I change my mind.”
But even as he turned away, it wasn’t the kid who held his focus—it was the Emissary. There was something wrong, something hollow about him now. Images flickered through Jaxen’s mind—disjointed, strange. A white tube. A name. Bode. His hand drifted to his chest, where the sticky residue of a once-innocuous Hello Kitty sticker still lingered on his jacket. He hadn't realized it fell off. But now, that sticker wasn’t just a memory—it was imprinted, burned deep into his brain.
He didn’t understand the meaning, not yet, but the urgency thrummed inside him, a command implanted within the images. He reached out, his hand closing around the Emissary’s shoulder, but when he turned him, he was met only with a vacant stare. An empty husk of a man stood before him.
Jaxen recoiled, stumbling back as though the lifeless shell might infect him. His pulse quickened, and suddenly the noise surged in his head. That damn tube, the name Bode, the absurd, sickeningly cute Hello Kitty, all spinning in a cyclone inside his mind. He clutched at his skull, fingers digging into his hair, trying to block out the flood of images.
Key. Bode. Hello Kitty.
The words repeated in a relentless loop. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, his face buried in his hands, clawing at his scalp. The onslaught was unbearable, a flood of digital noise and raw power that threatened to unravel his sanity. He could feel himself slipping, being swallowed whole by the ridiculous, smiling face of Hello Kitty.
And then—something shifted.
The more he focused on the images, the less they overwhelmed him. He stopped fighting them and let them flood through him. The noise melted away, transforming from a cacophony of commands into something quieter, something manageable. The swirling visions faded, drifting into the quiet recesses of his memory.
But just as they ebbed, the connection flared back to life—the hole in his mind. It beckoned to him, darker now, deeper. He could feel it there, a black void gnawing at his awareness, a rip in reality that invited him to reach into it, to tap into whatever lay on the other side. It pulled at him with the same intensity of temptation as the Ancient Power, and he realized with dawning clarity that the two forces were entwined in ways he could not yet fathom.
He yearned to reach into that void, to feel the vastness beyond. Yet, at the same time, something primal in him recoiled. The knowledge waiting on the other side was vast, incomprehensible—perhaps too much for one mind to bear. But the pull was there, persistent, relentless, a hunger gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
Jaxen was caught between two worlds—one ancient, one impossibly modern—each fighting for dominance inside him.
This new awareness tugged at him, elusive and maddening, a whisper on the edge of perception. The hive—this digital pantheon of members—hovered just beyond his reach, immense and unknowable. He couldn’t yet understand its language, its logic, but the pull was undeniable. It was not just power flowing through him now; it was knowledge, consciousness, stretching out toward him, tempting him to delve deeper.
Before he could fully comprehend this new connection, m'Antinomian was yanked away, his presence ripped from Jaxen’s mind like a shattering window. The glowing reality around him dissolved. He stumbled, his body lurching forward, instinct alone keeping him from crashing to the floor.
In a blink, the world reasserted itself. He found himself back in Nox’s house. It felt like mere seconds had passed, yet everything had changed. Sage was suddenly there, and the Emissary had moved away. Jaxen frowned, blinking through the lingering haze of that fractured reality. His eyes fell on the kid, still suspended in the air, bathed in the glow of the Ancient Power.
A surge of frustration welled up inside him. He yanked off his mask, letting it drop to the floor, his teeth clenched. “I better not see your face again,” he growled, though he knew he wouldn’t actually harm some kid. His hand flicked dismissively. “Go. Before I change my mind.”
But even as he turned away, it wasn’t the kid who held his focus—it was the Emissary. There was something wrong, something hollow about him now. Images flickered through Jaxen’s mind—disjointed, strange. A white tube. A name. Bode. His hand drifted to his chest, where the sticky residue of a once-innocuous Hello Kitty sticker still lingered on his jacket. He hadn't realized it fell off. But now, that sticker wasn’t just a memory—it was imprinted, burned deep into his brain.
He didn’t understand the meaning, not yet, but the urgency thrummed inside him, a command implanted within the images. He reached out, his hand closing around the Emissary’s shoulder, but when he turned him, he was met only with a vacant stare. An empty husk of a man stood before him.
Jaxen recoiled, stumbling back as though the lifeless shell might infect him. His pulse quickened, and suddenly the noise surged in his head. That damn tube, the name Bode, the absurd, sickeningly cute Hello Kitty, all spinning in a cyclone inside his mind. He clutched at his skull, fingers digging into his hair, trying to block out the flood of images.
Key. Bode. Hello Kitty.
The words repeated in a relentless loop. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, his face buried in his hands, clawing at his scalp. The onslaught was unbearable, a flood of digital noise and raw power that threatened to unravel his sanity. He could feel himself slipping, being swallowed whole by the ridiculous, smiling face of Hello Kitty.
And then—something shifted.
The more he focused on the images, the less they overwhelmed him. He stopped fighting them and let them flood through him. The noise melted away, transforming from a cacophony of commands into something quieter, something manageable. The swirling visions faded, drifting into the quiet recesses of his memory.
But just as they ebbed, the connection flared back to life—the hole in his mind. It beckoned to him, darker now, deeper. He could feel it there, a black void gnawing at his awareness, a rip in reality that invited him to reach into it, to tap into whatever lay on the other side. It pulled at him with the same intensity of temptation as the Ancient Power, and he realized with dawning clarity that the two forces were entwined in ways he could not yet fathom.
He yearned to reach into that void, to feel the vastness beyond. Yet, at the same time, something primal in him recoiled. The knowledge waiting on the other side was vast, incomprehensible—perhaps too much for one mind to bear. But the pull was there, persistent, relentless, a hunger gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
Jaxen was caught between two worlds—one ancient, one impossibly modern—each fighting for dominance inside him.