Xen

Never enough, never enough, over and over and over again. The same words ringing in his head, mocking him, saying that he’d never amount to much.

And it wasn’t much of a help that his father thought the same way.

But this was only the beginning.

Already he had nothing to lose. Neither pride nor position threatened him.

It took a while for the realisation to hit him; that it simply did not matter anymore, because he didn’t care and he—

He was free.

bio by shanncrafter

Xen, at a glance

“He sees things.” – a short sentence of three little words, but what a stigma it carried! It was always accompanied by suspicious glances and whispered contempt.

The Hidden Haven mostly regarded Xen with concern, but in some ways, that was worse. He did not want to worry them. Still, it was difficult for them not to notice how his eyes flickered, how he cringed back from things only he could see. He noticed them noticing; it worried him as well. An endless, mournful cycle of helpless worrying.

The things that plagued Xen were most visible in broad daylight, squirming at the corners of his eyes. So one day, when the bright, stranger-infested world was too much for him, he slunk into a dark tunnel in the lair.

He called those things “strangers”, though he couldn’t be sure if they were....Did they belong here, or were they alien? Deeper and deeper into the tunnel he went....At least when it was dark, he couldn’t see them so well. He couldn’t—

There was one. Of course. Even in the darkness, when it should’ve been invisible, it stood out clearly. Poised on the ceiling like a spider, its striped head undulating slowly. Pointed towards him.

“No,” Xen gasped in dismay. He didn’t want, he didn’t need, to see another one of them!

“No,” his voice echoed – and it came from the strange creature.

Xen hadn’t expected that. He yelped in surprise and tried to flee – only to stab his foot on a rusty nail sticking up from the ground. He cried out as he crashed into the wall. He didn’t see the higgledy-piggledy arrangement set up around him; it collapsed upon his head, and he fell.

He lay there, stunned but conscious. The stranger had left the ceiling. It appeared at the corner of his eye and placed a spindly, rubbery paw on his body. It felt firm and cool.

“No,” the stranger repeated. It started to roll Xen’s body towards itself. The huge, flat eyes stared down at him.

“Don’t hurt me....”

“Don’t hurt me,” echoed the stranger, its voice a twisted copy of Xen’s. It coiled its tail round his legs, its fingers slithering over his wings and face. After each sentence it spoke, it let out a long, haunting gasp. “Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me....”

Xen tried to wriggle away but couldn’t. As long as a boa constrictor, and as strong, the stranger had coiled around him and was prodding him. Inspecting him. Its head was near Xen’s, and when its enormous, toothy mouth drew close, he thought for sure it would slice his head off. He shut his eyes and prayed to all the deities for release.

After some minutes, the coils relaxed. The stranger returned to its perch on the ceiling. It ignored him now.

Xen limped back towards daylight. If only he could ignore them as solidly as they ignored him. That made him think...

What if it wasn’t they who were the strangers?

~written by Disillusionist (254672)

~~~~~~~~~~



WE ARE HERE


Arcamalis shivered as she became aware of the blankets around her. “I’m awake,” she realized, and she sat up just as a strong wind rattled the Haven, making the walls hum. The air felt tense and restless....Was a storm approaching?

Perhaps the stars would tell her more. As she slunk outside, she looked up through the trees. The stars seemed to be quivering, like reflections in a glass of water....

“Who’s there?”

“It’s only me.” Arcamalis identified the Snapper before seeing her, for she smelled of fresh-baked bread and a hint of the spice that she’d been named after: Cinnamon. The guard was concealed in the shadow of a spreading tree. In the moonless night, her armor was dull, unreflective.

Cinnamon moved gingerly, shifting her stout legs. “Sorry, Arc,” she grumbled. “It’s been a long night and it feels like a storm’s coming—y’know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Arcamalis answered, “but the stars are visible and there are no clouds.”

“I know that. It’s just...It feels weird.” Cinnamon settled down with a huff. “Though that could be ’cause we’re in the Tangled Wood, I suppose.”

“I have not been in this clan as long as you have. It has always had plenty of strange occurrences, hasn’t it?”

Cinnamon nodded. She managed to keep from adding, “And you were one of them.” Instead, she said, “Aye, and getting stranger every day.”

A branch snapped. Cinnamon was instantly alert, and Arcamalis slipped behind her, dark green scales blending with the shadows.

The snapping, scratching noises continued. Something was struggling through the undergrowth. “Who’s there?” Cinnamon asked again, an instant before the reek of blood assailed her nostrils. Arcamalis spread her wings, and starry light washed from them, illuminating the wretched figure some meters away.

“It’s Alek!” Cinnamon gasped. She bustled forward, flattening bushes and saplings. The Fae collapsed gratefully against her leg, blood pouring from his back and...something else....

The Snapper guard cursed. “Arc, go get—” She needn’t have spoken. Arcamalis had already slithered away. She would rouse the healers, urge them to prepare a space for Alek. Help would be arriving soon.

She turned her attention to Alek again. “Alek, stay with me. Help is on the way. What did this to you?”

She tentatively reached out, prodded the huge things projecting from Alek’s back. She swore again. “What in Earthshaker’s name...What did this to...No, what did you do?! Alek?”

The Fae didn’t answer. Cinnamon shivered and looked around nervously. He had lost so much blood; a trail of it led back into the darkness of the Wood. Had something followed him?

Cinnamon’s earlier words held more truth than she wanted. Things were indeed about to get stranger.

~ ~ ~
The next morning, a thick, clinging fog drifted over the Hidden Haven. Shapes appeared to drift within it: spots of color, shadows. The Hidden Haven drakes were used to odd things, but they were not immune to fear, and as the dawn wore on with no break in the fog, everyone started getting jumpy.

It started with small things. Norzaren went flying in a tangle of wings and violets, leaving flower petals in his wake, to hide behind Araziela. “What’s wrong?” she asked him. It was difficult for Norzaren to put his thoughts into words; he tended to buzz like his Mith caretakers when he got excited. As nearly as Araziela could tell, he’d seen a face staring out at him from behind a cabinet. “Red eyes,” he chirruped, trembling violently. “Red eyes...”

“Hush, now; nothing’s there.” Inwardly, though, Araziela was irritated. “That Procel, playing tricks again,” she thought darkly. “I’ll ask Deregh to have a word...No, wait, Deregh doesn’t talk. It’s a long shot, but perhaps Anpiel might be able to talk some sense into him.”

It was late morning when Sulimard finally awoke. He’d been locked in a very strange dream. Tiny, grinning faces clustering around him, eyes that weren’t eyes, a soft, persistent wailing. It faded—somewhat—when he opened his eyes.

A large form was crouched in the corner, apparently trying to hide. It took him a moment to realize it was Xen. The older Skydancer looked up at him warily. “They are here,” he whispered.

Sulimard stared at him. He was saying something indistinct...and then with a chill, he realized that Xen had stopped speaking after those three words. The wailing continued, just at the very edges of hearing....

But it was all around them. And it wouldn’t stop.

~ ~ ~
During those days, Alek drifted in a haze. Red, black, and white...He was dimly conscious of warmth, the sense of being safe. It helped chase away the pain that bored deep into his back. Lana and Lachlan tended carefully to him, washing the blood from his body and wings....

“Wings,” Lana said dumbly. She and Lachlan stared at the enormous, feathered white wings that had ripped through Alek’s back.

“They are...attached to him. As if he grew them naturally....Have you ever seen anything like it, Lachlan?”

He shook his head. “Young ones, playing with magic they can neither comprehend nor control.” His eyes darkened with anger. “This is the result.”

When Alek woke up, he lay still, mumbling for water. Lachlan’s face poked into view. “What did you think you were doing?!” the old Coatl thundered even as he gently held a bowl to Alek’s lips. The Fae sipped weakly, concentrating on getting the liquid down his throat. It hurt a bit—his throat was raw from screaming. It was a wonder no one had heard him before Cinnamon....

“You took a century off of everyone’s lives when you staggered in like that. Running off in the middle of the night doing Arcanist-knows-what...and your antics would put the Arcanist himself to shame! What’ve you got to say for yourself, young man?!”

Alek didn’t reply. He closed his eyes. Lachlan grumbled a moment longer, and then he fluttered off. He murmured to Lana: “I’ve continued complaining at him (and gods know most of it is more than half-meant), but he doesn’t seem to be getting better. It’s been five days now!”

Alek’s eyes snapped open. Five days. A lot could have happened in five days.

The thing had pulled him into another world....It was why no one had heard him shrieking. It had tried to assimilate him, but had failed. But he had been gravely injured, dying of blood loss; there’d been no time to properly close the door. Had something else come through?

~ ~ ~
Gizelle arrived a couple of days later in response to their urgent message. Lachlan took the medicines she’d prepared even as she recoiled from the mist. “What is this?” she asked him.

“Fog. It’s not as bad as it was two days ago. It seems to be dissipating.”

Gizelle nodded absently. “I think I’ll rest for a while,” she mumbled before slipping back beneath the hollow tree. Lachlan considered telling her about the odd things he’d glimpsed: tiny black and gray forms flitting around. Skittering away the moment he entered a room. Diving out of sight as he turned on the lights. How long until one of them appeared directly in front of his face? Until then, he would ignore them. He had a patient to tend.

Unaware of these strange goings-on, Gizelle curled up beneath the hollow tree and soon fell asleep. White vapors leaked in around the edges of the hollow stump. They brushed against her bony face, her tattered wings, but she just went on sleeping.

Xen, meanwhile, had gotten more nervous. “They’re here,” he repeated to Sulimard. “The Strangers.”

That was what Sulimard and Xen called them: Strangers. Not everybody could see them. There was no sure way to detect them, let alone capture or identify them. It was a stroke of luck that the Sensitives Xen and Sulimard had found each other. They had searched for other dragons like themselves, with no success. Perhaps there were none.

Or were there?

All around the Hidden Haven, dragons were whispering to each other about the shadows crowding at the edges of their eyes and the world. Previously they’d glimpsed fuzzy shapes of gray and black. Now there were flashes of scarlet. The thin wails that Sulimard had noticed were now interspersed with short, sharp cries. And the others could hear them.

Nia closeted herself in her den. There, she put her considerable skills to use, welding together a machine that (she hoped) would help them decipher what was going on. The rest of the clan didn’t share her enthusiasm.

“When did this begin to happen?” Onoind asked them. He had just returned from...somewhere....He had been having these huge gaps in his memory lately. As nearly as he could tell, they set in whenever he visited the Ghostlight Ruins. Perhaps one of the resident fiends had cast a curse on him....

Cinnamon answered, “Just a few days ago, after Alek—” She clamped her lips shut.

Onoind regarded her curiously. “Yes? What about Alek?”

By then, the other dragons knew about Alek’s “accident”. Lachlan and Lana reluctantly concluded he was getting worse. No matter how vehemently Lachlan complained, his wounds didn’t heal. Whatever had gotten him had injected something that kept the blood flowing. With those huge gashes in his back, he would soon bleed out completely.

They had to find out what had happened to him. He was conscious, though only just—barely able to stay awake, let alone speak.

“What happened to you?” Onoind queried. He spoke with his body as much as with his voice, knowing that it would be easier for Alek to understand.

The young scholar blinked blearily. Onoind had to concentrate to maintain eye contact; his own eyes kept getting drawn to Alek’s second pair of wings. Huge wings like a swan’s, snowy white—but with an alien structure as elastic and flexible as a Shattered Serpent. These wings wouldn’t just flap, they would curl—assuming their owner regained enough strength to control them. Assuming he lived.

Meanwhile, Alek was struggling to form words in his mind. What had he been trying to do? Onoind bent low to listen as Alek whispered, “In the Tangled Wood...a cave...I tried to summon...”

“Summon what?” Onoind asked urgently. He resisted the urge to shake the battered Fae. When repeated questions failed to rouse him, he moved away. Lachlan and Lana fluttered in to tend Alek, and the other dragons clustered around Onoind as he stepped outside. “We need to find out what happened to him. Someone needs to go into the Tangled Wood and investigate what he was up to.”

Cinnamon shuddered, remembering the trail of blood Alek had left behind. But Onoind was right; something had to be done. She nodded and went away to find someone to assist her.

“What if they don’t find anything?” Tairialis pressed. His Fae brothers peered over his shoulders, blinking worriedly.

Onoind’s fins quivered in agitation. But he tried to stay calm as he said, “We’ll ask for help. Perhaps the Disillusionists...or the Cathedral of Eyes might be a better choice. We can send Deregh to consult Cipher; he may know something.”

The dragons left the Healers’ Cove together. Lachlan fluttered out to consult Gizelle, leaving Lana behind. The Spiral was already exhausted from working round the clock with little to no rest, and her eyelids began to droop.

Soon she would be asleep, and then the creature would have to make its move.

~ ~ ~
After much coaxing from Sulimard, Xen crept out of his chamber. He was surprised to see the other drakes crowded nearby.

Tairialis spotted him immediately. “Oy, Xen! Can you help us?”

Xen was about to shrink away, but those words: “Can you help us?” No one had ever needed his help before. But then...

No one else had ever been able to see the Strangers before.

His eyes widened as he heard his clanmates’ stories. Flitting shadows, smoky shapes, voices calling out to them from the mist. Creatures that were not...creatures. Strange entities. Strangers. “You can see them...too?” he asked weakly.

Tairialis scowled. “Alek did something weird. Maybe it’s screwed with our heads, I dunno....But yeah, we can see them. Now.” He smiled faintly and gave Xen an affectionate poke with one toe.

The drakes were all clustered around Nia. She was fiddling with a device, something with a screen that crackled with static. She reported, “Cinnamon’s out investigating, and Onoind’s gone down to the library to talk to Deregh, send him to the Cathedral of Eyes. We may need their help for this one. And I’m working on this—do you hear those sounds? Maybe I can get something out of them! Maybe I—”

She broke off. Words had suddenly appeared on the screen. The characters were odd, but readable. Only just.

.ǝɹǝɥ ǝɹɐ ɘW

The Hidden Haven trembled again.

“Where’s Alek?” Xen asked. The air flickered, and the lair continued to shudder. His clanmates moved around him in a panicky mass.

“HEY!” he yelled. It was the first time he’d raised his voice, and the others paused, staring at him. “Where’s Alek?!”

Tairialis answered, “The Healers’ Cove. He’s in a bad way, but—Xen, wait! Lachlan said not to disturb—”

“It’s too late for that,” Xen thought grimly as he fled down the halls. Indeed, everything was being disturbed. The trembling wasn’t strong as before, but it was still there, and now he could hear those other sounds, the wailing.

Shapes began to appear. Darker now, more definite...and they didn’t go away. Large red eyes with oval pupils. Small and mewling mouths. Xen dodged around them, focusing on the Healers’ Cove. Behind him, his clanmates cried out in terror.

Xen himself didn’t cry out when he reached the Cove. Even Lana was dumbstruck, huddled in the corner. The two of them gawped at the entity looming over Alek’s unconscious body.

It resembled a manticore, with the same feline body. But there the similarities ended.

It stood on eight strong legs, and a pair of wings spread from its shoulders. Downy, gleaming feathers...They ended in blood-red projections that writhed and flexed like so many hands. Gesturing to Xen and Lana: clasping, warding, beseeching....

And its head alone was larger than Xen. No recognizable features. Instead, there was a huge rectangle of ruby light. Its radiance permeated the very air. It bent towards Alek, who was unconscious, unable to fight back.

“NO!” Xen screamed. He tore forward just as the window of light touched Alek. He was getting drawn in!

Xen grabbed Alek’s arm and tried to pull him back. But the creature was too strong. He felt its strength, like gravity, taking hold of him, pulling him and Alek into the window. “Its mouth,” he thought frantically. “It’s eating us alive!”

And then the red light closed over them. They vanished from view.

~ ~ ~
“Hello.”

The word crackled in Xen’s mind. He opened his eyes.

The creature standing before him was undoubtedly a Stranger. It was the size and shape of a house cat, but it looked squishy, its feet ending in little nubs. It had a long snout somewhat like a toucan’s beak, but didn’t seem to have a mouth.

“Are you nervous?” it asked Xen. It crept closer, its three rectangular eyes twinkling. “I’m nervous, too.”

Xen scrambled away from it. He looked around for Alek. He was nearby, surrounded by more of the catlike creatures. They were poking him with their snouts, their words whispering on the air. Xen let out a nervous shout, trying to shoo them away. They clustered together as he scooped Alek into his arms.

He was kneeling on soft grass. Wispy white clouds drifted against a blue sky—but only around them. Above, the sky was a deep ruby red, the same color as the window they’d come through.

“Fear not.”—a calm, vast voice. It pressed upon Xen’s mind like a gentle hand.

He shrank down instinctively. It was then that he noticed the small cat-Strangers had moved closer to prod Alek again. Their voices were like the rustles of leaves or distant birdsong.

“You can hold on to me.”

“I will help you be strong.”

“Please try to keep going!”

They were encouraging him. Comforting him. He stared at them in wonder.

When he looked up again, the huge winged entity was there. Its hand-wings writhed round each other before reaching out to him.

“Fear not,” it said again, its voice as deep and smooth as a cello’s.

“Who are you?”

“I am a megameom. We are, as you would call us, Strangers.” Its hands fluttered like birds as it spoke. A few of the small cat-Strangers ran to it, gamboling among its many feet.

“What do you want?”

“I?” The creature seemed amused. “I want to help you.”

Xen stared at it in wary disbelief.

“Your companion attempted to summon another being. And so he left the way open for other creatures...like myself. And these gentle ones.” The megameom reached down with its wing-hands, patted the smaller cats on their heads. They laughed delightedly, like tinkling bells. “We are happy to be here. Our purview is to drift from one plane of existence to another. We are cats. We go where we please.” The ruby light softened in the creature’s own version of a smile. “But we do not object to anyone showing us new and beautiful lands to explore.”

Other wing-hands stretched forward, reaching for Alek. “Let me heal him,” the megameom offered. “I will make him whole again. I brought him here for that purpose, for here in my worldlet, he is protected. He will live, if you will let me help him.”

The megameom’s words sounded strong and true. Yet it didn’t pluck Alek from Xen’s grasp. The hands remained outstretched, waiting. He was being given a choice.

Xen trembled in fear. He had never encountered Strangers like this before. They had been more like animals, things to be avoided or ignored. But now...

He looked down at Alek. The Fae’s life was literally in his hands. Poor Alek, meddling with things he couldn’t understand or control. “Maybe we were all like him once. Maybe now, he will be wiser,” Xen thought. A more cynical part of him chimed in, “And anyway, what has he got to lose?”

He timidly stood up and placed Alek in the megameom’s grasp.

~ ~ ~
Xen didn’t know how much time passed in the megameom’s worldlet—perhaps not more than an hour. When he and Alek reappeared, it was in the hallway outside the Healers’ Cove.

“You’re back!” Tairialis bellowed. “You and Alek disappeared...!”

Alek coughed. His throat was healed, but still he spoke softly. “What are those?” he peeped.

Asclepias and Faenamide were peering over Tairialis’ head—and they weren’t alone. Clustered around them were several more cat-like beings: gray, black, and white, with red eyes, smiling mouths, and dainty paws. Some of them were weirdly-shaped; a few had ears.

“Look at these little guys!” Tairialis boomed. “They appeared with that red light....They look a bit funny, but it seems they’re really friendly. I mean, none of them have tried to eat us or anything. Yet. Alek...What happened to you? You guys disappeared....Are you OK now?”

Alek smiled and nodded wanly. His newly-acquired wings pressed against his back.

Xen looked down. A large number of the long-nosed cats had accompanied him and Alek from the megameom’s worldlet. There were 50 of them, variously patterned and colored. As they trundled forward on their stubby little legs, the other drakes paused and sized them up. Xen watched their eyes move, and he mumbled, “You can see them, too?”

“Yeah,” Nia sighed. “I guess whatever Alek did was effective....Alek, what did you do? I mean, we’re not angry—” She broke off as Alek turned away.

Lachlan landed next to him. “He needs rest,” he said sternly. “Lana and I must make sure he is well—and don’t you run off again, boy!” he bellowed, giving Alek a vigorous shake. Alek winced, but didn’t say a word.

Xen felt sorry for him. It was odd....He’d always felt sorry for himself. But Alek had been through a lot in the past few days, and it was obviously eating at him now. His body had recovered. It was up to him to repair his own mind now.

“These are Strangers,” he began, largely because he didn’t know what else to say. As the healers led Alek away, he continued, “Sulimard and I could see them from the very beginning, but it looks like you also can now. They’re not all bad....They’re more like animals than anything else. The black-and-gray ones are called meoms, and the ones with the long noses are Matatown Cats. They are very friendly, and some of them can talk....So yes, you’re right. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” His smile was faint.

“Cats,” Nia repeated with a puzzled frown. “Why are they all cats?”

“Because all cats go wherever they please,” Xen repeated slowly, his smile fading. The megameom had said those words to him first, in the ruby worldlet with the gentle sky. Those words, and something more....

~ ~ ~
“You said that in this worldlet, he’s protected,” Xen said. He watched as Alek’s wounds closed up and healed. “Protected from what?”

“The door was opened,” the megameom intoned. Its wings rustled uneasily. “When a door is opened, it does not lead into a room. It leads to a hallway, which in turn has many doors....”

“And the doors all lead to other worlds,” Xen realized with a chill. Aloud, he asked, “What else comes through the doors? Are there those who are not...like you?”

Elsewhere in Sornieth, a demon in a dragon’s shape smiled his too-wide smile. He coiled atop a shining plinth, staring down a gold-cloaked Fae.

Deregh glared right back, refusing to be cowed. He signed a message with his claws and fins. Cipher laughed at him. “Strangers? Why are you so concerned about them? There are other things to worry about. Other things find their way to Sornieth through those many open doors.” The questions thus answered, he vanished in a crackle of golden light. His laugh remained, and his final words...

“I’m a demon, Deregh. Believe me, I would know.”

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
Cipher belongs to awaicu (149080)
“Strangers” made by Felix Kramer and J.
“SCP-469” is from the SCP Foundation


Someone give this lil boy a hug. He needs it.