You stand in an endless expanse of nothingness. The ground, which you feel but cannot see, is covered in a thin layer of water. Not far from you are two chairs, set to face each other within a circle of light with no discernible source.
You approach the circle and enter it, and as you do, your twin, an exact copy of you, enters the circle the side directly opposite from you. He admires you a moment and smiles.
“I must say, we do look good, don’t we? Regrettably not why we’re here, though. At least I don’t think it is.” The other you takes a seat in the chair nearest him, with you following his example.
A low growl emanates from beyond the light. Outside the circle, a human silhouette with piercing red eyes paces back and forth but does not enter.
“Tryst already? I’ve barely begun. Yes, well, I suppose it can’t be helped. Mad lovers in the night and all, the lot of us. But this one, really, always without an invitation. Nasty, too, and wrought with quicksilver duplicity. Have to always be on my toes, else he’ll devour us whole. What can you do, though? I mean, he is family after all.
Digression. Digression! Now, listen to me, you childe of mischief, and let not your eyes glaze. Eight of Eights, but not sixteen or sixty four. He is Mephistopheles, but that is not his name. He is you, but you are not him. Number one, the first, is actually two, the second. The one of three in view is actually number one, the first. A barony of misrule is the third. The fourth’s lucky numbers are 1, 6, 7, and secretly 3; Avoid: 3, 8, 9. The fifth is seven, then six, then five, then six and finally seven again. Of the sixth… Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, How does your garden grow? Doomed by pale skinned hooligans obsessed with the land below, who hunt for the last flower at the end of the row. The seventh—”
The silhouette stops pacing and snarls. It looms over the two of you from beyond the light, appearing to have grown in stature.
“Gobermouch! Scobberlotcher! Bespawler! Be damned, fetid shade.” The other you shakes his fist at the silhouette. “Do not interrupt, rough beast! Your time may be nigh, but it’s not as of yet. Now, the sixth… no, the seventh! The seventh, never the fool, is sixteen out of twenty-two, and the eighth is the end of six and the beginning of seven of twelve, also called ten, unless twenty is brought on by twenty one, or if it is cubed, in which case the number becomes either one or zero, respectively. And one mustn’t forget cast iron she who is actually three, grandmother to many but not to thee. Furostane? Furostane? Poor poor red queen Vasily. Such trouble for naught but false victory. Then, in the marrow lands, ten heads fight three storms. See, see? The first among equals three seeks to set the Wheel free. One plus two plus two plus one, not one plus two plus one plus one. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet etc etc etc. Christ, I had no idea we enjoyed rhyme so much, and in such poor taste, too.”
The light above begins to dim, which excites the silhouette, and it begins to snarl and gnash its teeth, eager for the light to fade.
“God’s bones! I haven’t finished yet! Not by half!” He howls to the above. “You!” He jabs a finger at you. “The script is written, but not in stone. With wit as your quill and sword you may yet rewrite the play. The bright stream is your ally, but it has yet to flow. See you to Tzion, House of Holiness, upon your 100th year of rebirth. There, in the house of the hard bear, you’ll find the other protagonists in this great play of life and death. The Charlatan’s Charlatan. The Wanderer Who Lives Out of Time. The Bloodied Boy in Shadow Who is Not. The Three Eyed Woman of Power. Wednesday’s Nine Times Hanged Avenger. Go not early, but be not late either.”
The light has all but faded, and the silhouette readies to pounce.
“Damn it all!” The other you stands and faces the silhouette, feet planted and arms at the ready, then glances back at you a moment. “Run, you, oh boy my boyo. I’ll tangle with this rough beast. Now run!”
You run away as fast as your feet will carry you, away from the other you and the rough beast. The light goes out, and you hear the snarl of the rough beast as it pounces upon your twin.
Angel Fall Chronicles 