Cinnamon Bun

Chapter Five Hundred - World of Darkness - Bun of Light

Chapter Five Hundred - World of Darkness - Bun of Light

Chapter Five Hundred - World of Darkness - Bun of Light

"Guys?" I asked the darkness.

I turned, nearly stumbling over ... nothing?

Even with my eyes wide open, all I could see was utter blackness.

"Amaryllis? Awen?" I called out, a little louder this time.

Raising a hand, I created a lightball... or I tried to. Instead, no light appeared, but I felt an unnerving tugging sensation, like pulling at a hangnail across my entire body. Not quite as painful, but it wasn't nice.

"Calamity? Desiree?" I shouted.

The next thing I tried was Cleaning magic. A wave of it, trying to flare out in every direction. But instead, nothing happened.

Frowning, I focused on my magic and pushed. It felt like I was pressing both hands against a solid wall and pushing against it with all of my might. All I did was kind of push myself back, only it wasn't physical, it was my magic.

I blinked, looked down, and tried to see my own hands in the absolute dark. Of course, there was nothing to see. I might as well have had my eyes closed. Reaching up, I touched my face, but there was no blindfold there.

Which left... I called on Mister Menu and he showed up. My menu screen floated there, all my stats and skills in order. But Mister Menu didn't cast any light. Wait, did that mean that Mister Menu was in my imagination? Bringing my hand closer didn't illuminate it. I turned, and the menu followed, but I'd never really experimented to see if Mister Menu would bump into things.

Stepping towards where I thought one of the tunnel walls was, I stretched out a hand with Mister Menu on the end, and the menu shifted inwards just a smidge before my hand touched cold stone.

Well, that was something, at least.

I decided not to panic. I really, really wanted to. The panic twisted inside of me like... like a very full bladder after drinking a whole pitcher of lemonade. It was there, and impossible not to notice, and really wanted out.

I giggled. Amaryllis would hate that analogy. She'd huff, and call me an idiot for even thinking it up. The giggles faded quickly enough, especially when the sound they made was strangely muted.

Snapping my fingers, I moved my hand around and made some noise at different distances. The noise was swallowed more the further from me it was.

I swung my arms out towards where my friends had been and encountered nothing. I didn't feel like I was in the same space.

I had to think. Was this like a dungeon boss? But... no, dungeon bosses lived in dungeons, and we'd never entered one. If we had, there would have been that pop-up, right? And dungeons felt... dungeon-y. The mines here hadn't felt that way. No simple monsters, no sense of progression, no magical feel in the air.

So, I was probably not in a dungeon. "Miss Laine? Sir Aberrforth?" I called out, just in case. Of course, there was nothing.

Swallowing past a dry throat, I continued to look around, seeing nothing but Mister Menu floating nearby. That churning feeling continued to rise in me, but I kept it squished down.

I could really use a hug.

Or at least a friend.

Reaching up, I touched the small collar around my neck. Orange's collar... Now that was an idea.But if this was a dangerous place, should I really call Orange over?

On the other hand, if Orange went missing, maybe that would clue in the crew of the Beaver that something went wrong? It was a thin hope, but a hope nonetheless. So I pumped mana and will into the collar... and felt like I was trying to push water through a brick.

I huffed out a breath. That was... a lot. But... but you could push water through a brick. I'd seen videos of that once upon a time. Big machines shooting water in a jet so tight and with such high pressure that they could cut through nearly anything.

I pushed more mana, then more and more. It was still like pushing against something, but as I pressed harder and harder, a vein almost popping in my forehead and sweat collecting on my back, I could feel the barrier against my magic bend just a tiny smidge.

That was all the sign I needed to press even harder.

And just like that, my magic touched the collar, summoning Orange to me.

The spirit cat--no longer a spirit kitten-appeared in mid-air, a glowing orange ball of smug and fur that I caught with a sweeping hug. "Orange!" I cheered.

The cat blinked at me, then looked around, or tried to. Orange's glow helped push the darkness back, but only so much. It was as if she had the same illumination as a single candle as opposed to... well, a whole glowing cat's worth of glowiness.

"Hi," I said as I cradled her close. "I'm sorry to pull you from... naptime?"

Orange nodded, then yawned, showing off all of her pretty little cat teeth.

"Sorry," I said again. "But, uh, I'm in a bit of trouble, I think."

Orange looked up at me curiously.

"I don't know where my friends are, and I'm kinda stuck in... uh, an ancient mine which might hold some huge, scary monster. Also, it's dark, and magic doesn't seem to be working very well in here. Do you mind if I use you as a flashlight?"

She didn't look very impressed with me, but she snuggled into my hug all the same and gave me a small bump with her head, almost as if to say that it was fine... as long as I gave her scritches. She liked them best around her ears and under her chin, of course, so I carefully shuffled her around in my grasp so that I could hug her close and give her the best scritches I could.

With Orange's light to guide me, or at least banish the nearest edges of the darkness, I started through the tunnel.

Jagged rocks - many of them just a bit taller than my ankles, some as big around as I was - loomed out of the blackness, casting long shadows back into the gloom, but the tunnel was... actually, this didn't feel like the mine tunnel anymore. Hadn't there been less rocks on the floor?

The mine had rocky walls, chopped into by pickaxes but still covered in scars and breaks.

This place? The walls had been smooth, once. Tremendous effort had been invested into carving the stone into flat planes and a gently curving vaulted ceiling.

And then someone had desecrated all that effort, cutting and slashing and tearing and ripping into the stone. Every rock on the floor had been torn out of the walls; most of them had one side which was still perfectly smooth. I felt myself shying away from the wounds gouged into the walls. Everything about them felt like rage.

Maybe it had been many someones, over a long time. I slowed as I saw the tip of a sword jammed into a crack in the wall. It was broken, as if it snapped after chopping into the stone. The sword was mostly rust now, dry rust that crumbled when I touched it.

I rubbed my fingers together, and tried to Clean them but... there was still that resistance.

Would it extend to my other abilities? Would I be able to make myself bigger or smaller, or jump higher? I was kind of afraid to test it.

With Orange's light guiding me, I continued through the tunnel, my steps cautious and my heart pounding in the stillness. The walls around me seemed to close in, the still-smooth parts of the stone feeling more like a prison than a pathway. Could that be it? Was this a prison?

A faint sound echoed through the tunnel and I paused. My ears all twitched, and I tried to pinpoint the source of the sound, but it was hard when all I heard were echoes.

"H-hello?" I called out; my trembling voice was swallowed up by the darkness, but a shiver ran down my spine. The air had shifted a little, and Orange's fur started to stand on end even as her little kitty ears folded back.

As I moved deeper, the air grew colder, the oppressive darkness crushing in more heavily. Orange's glow shrank until I couldn't see my feet anymore. I hugged Orange tighter, her warmth a small comfort. The faint sounds grew louder, until I could start to make out individual sounds and I realized they were whispers.

My feet stopped moving without me telling them to. My heart hammered away in my ribcage as Orange tried to hide herself in my arms.

The whispers rose in intensity, even as I stood rooted to the spot. Insistent sounds became insistent words:

"Who... approaches?"

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The voice was ancient, weary, tired. "My name is..." I hesitated. "My name is Broccoli."

"Broccoli..." The voice seemed to taste the word, as if trying to remember what it meant. "Why... are you here... Broccoli?"

"I'm lost, and I can't find my friends. Who are you?"

"Someone forgotten, I suppose," the darkness said. Slowly, a vague figure appeared ahead of me. I could barely see it as anything more than a thin shadow, with limbs like sticks arranged in the shape of an emaciated man. He didn't come close at all, staying out in the dark and away from Orange's light.

She growled at him, then hissed.

I tried to use Insight on him, but nothing happened. "Do you--do you have a name?" I asked.

"I had one... once. It doesn't matter."

"Well, I think it might?" I tried. "I've never had a friend without a name before. It would be hard for us to be friends without that, right?"

The World Has No Answer

Desired Quality: None.

Dream: None.

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I swallowed, then stepped forwards with a sniff. "I'm sorry," I said.

The shadow shifted. "Sorry?" the voice questioned. "If you have something to say ... than speak plainly."

"I've... I've never met someone who didn't think they deserved a friend before," I said. What other explanation could there be? No desired quality - or in other words, there was no quality he sought in a friend. That was the same as not wanting a friend at all. And no dream, either - a complete lack of dreams has the same as having no hope.

But everyone had to want a friend, right? So, if he didn't want a friend ... there had to be a reason, right?

If it was me... well, in that moment, the only reason I could think of was that, maybe, this person without a name didn't think they deserved a friend. And he had kept thinking that for so long that it stained every part of his being, until he truly believed it.

"You worry ... for my lack of friends?" he asked from right behind me.

I gasped, spinning around to find the shadowy figure of a man sitting on a rock not too far behind me.

He rose up, a barely visible patch of slightly different-colored gloom. "Who are you to look down on me, Riftwalker?"

"You, uh, you know that I'm a Riftwalker?" I asked.

"I do," he said. "For hundreds of years, I've had naught to do but Inspect every rock and stone and bone in this dismal place. There's little you can hide from me."

"Okay," I said. "But I'm not really trying to hide anything."

He scoffed. "Not trying to hide anything, are you? Then tell me, why have you come here? No one merely stumbles into this place by... accident."

I hesitated, feeling a tight knot of uncertainty in my chest. "I'm not lying. We were exploring the mines and got separated. I ended up here. I'm just trying to find my friends and get out."

The shadowy figure seemed to consider my words, his form flickering like a dying flame. "Exploring, you say? Seeking adventure, perhaps? Or something more?"

I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. "Adventure, yes. But also to help. Some explorers have gone missing in this mine, and we need to rescue them. We're... just trying to help?"

"Riftwalkers aren't here to help," he spat. "They're here to pillage and destroy and bring ruin upon this entire world."

"What?" I asked. "I mean, that can't be right."

The figure's form flickered. Orange's light was almost enough to see his face. It was thin, bony, almost skeletal, with brows drawn together, a mouth set in a growl. "You're naive if you think otherwise. This World has seen enough of your kind to know better."

"I'm not like that," I insisted. "We're not like that. Please, just let me find my friends, and we'll prove it."

He laughed. It was a harsh, mirthless sound that echoed through the darkness. "Prove it? You think your empty promises hold any weight? I've seen Riftwalkers like you come and go, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake -- just as I did."

I blinked, taken aback. "You were a Riftwalker? Are?" Was being a Riftwalker something that someone could stop being? I was one because I'd come to Dirt from Earth. Had this man been from Earth too? Another world? The only other Riftwalker I had met was Rainnewt, and he... okay, he didn't exactly give us a good name. He was ... pretty much exactly like the riftwalkers this shadowy guy was describing.

"I was a Riftwalker, yes. What does it matter?

"I... well, I wouldn't mind learning about what you did?" I tried.

The silence stretched, and I realized that the spot where the man had been was empty. All I was seeing was a faint afterimage seared into my eyes. When I blinked and searched for him, he was gone.

I turned this way and that, looking for him, but nothing.

Not until I almost stumbled on a small metal stool, looking entirely misplaced in these tunnels. Too new. All the metal I'd seen was rusty, and this stool was one of those fold-out camping sorts that had a tough cloth seat atop it.

Was this from the explorers that had just gone missing?

"Sit."

I jumped, the voice having come from the dark again. He was there, barely visible.

I carefully sat.

The darkened figure was quiet for some time. Then he spoke. He sounded less angry now, more tired. "I arrived on this world of Dirt with dreams of conquest and glory. I climbed the ladder of power, giving no thought to the suffering and destruction I wrought with each step. But I made a lot of enemies," he gave a withered, self-deprecating chuckle, "just as I deserved. And so eventually, they banded together, and I was cursed and sealed into this mine. My reach was limited, but I still managed to ruin some things."

"That must have been awful," I said, feeling a pang of sympathy.

"It was," he admitted, though his tone remained bitter. "But it was only what I deserved. I was beyond saving. The world is truly fortunate that someone put an end to my rampage. People ... I did not even think of them as people. Just sacks of experience, irritatingly mobile. I amassed power, obscene power, and all I could think to do with it was gather more."

I didn't know what to say. The darkness shifted, but I couldn't tell if he'd really moved, or if my eyes were playing tricks on me.

He let out a rattling sigh. "I've had hundreds of years to think and reflect on my actions. Time to cool off, as it were. But don't mistake my reflection for forgiveness. What I did was unforgivable. I despise what I was and what Riftwalkers represent."

I nodded slowly. "I... I think you're not the only person who's done that kind of thing," I said. "But I also think that not all Riftwalkers need to be that way."

"...It's strange, meeting another Riftwalker after all this time. I can see the same potential for power in you, but I also see something different. A weakness, perhaps. A desire to help."

"I'm just trying to do what's right," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "I don't want to hurt anyone. And I don't think helping is a weakness."

He nodded slowly. "I... wouldn't have agreed, once. Anything that stood in the way of advancement was... well, it was wrong, insomuch as I could conceive of 'wrong' in those days. Remember, the path to power is filled with temptations. It's easy to lose sight of everything outside of oneself." He gestured, a vague hand appearing out of the dark then disappearing again. "You say you want to help, but what will you do when helping means sacrificing your own goals? When it means giving up power?"

"I would help anyway," I said instantly. "If I ever have goals that would hurt an innocent person, than that means ... they're bad goals and I should drop them. And power ... if I have to choose between power and helping people, then of course I would choose to help people."

He snorted. "You say that now, but if you every have a chance to seize true, world-shaking power, and all you have to do is hurt a few people ... temptation like that is not easily overcome. You could even declare that it is for the greater good."

"I would never hurt my friends, so you're basically asking me to choose between power and friendship," I crossed my arms, and Orange glared into the dark. "I'd always choose friendship."

"Oh?" a faint line stretched in the darkness, a suggestion of a stern frown. "Friends only?"

"You say that like there's some kind of limit." I shook my head. "My mom used to tell me that even if I couldn't help everyone, that was no excuse not to befriend the people I meet. Everyone I meet is my friend. I'll always choose them over simple power."

The figure scoffed, but there was a hint of something softer in his voice. "You are naive."

That stung a little. I knew that I wasn't the wisest but... "How many friends do you have?" I asked.

He was silent for a very long time.

"Maybe I should have been more naive myself," he muttered.

We sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of his words settling over me. Finally, I spoke. "Can you help me find my friends? Please?"

Again, the silence stretched on, and I could feel his eyes on me, weighing my worth. "Very well," he said at last. "I will help you. But understand this: the darkness in these tunnels is not just a lack of light. It is the embodiment of all the despair and corruption I wrought. It will test you, push you to your limits. If you can withstand it, you might just find your friends."

"Thank you," I said, my voice sincere. "I'll do my best."

With a nod, the figure began to move, his form almost blending into the shadows as he led the way deeper into the tunnels. Orange's light flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls, but I clung to the small comfort it provided.

As we walked, the figure spoke again. "Tell me about your friends. Why do you care so much about finding them?"

"Because they're my friends," I replied simply. "They mean everything to me. Amaryllis is smart and clever, and Awen is kind and braver than she knows. Calamity is funny, and Desiree is so, so curious. We've been through so much together. I can't imagine leaving them behind."

The figure made a sound that might have been a chuckle. "Friendship. Another thing I sacrificed for power. It's a powerful force, even if it cannot be expressed in ranks or levels. Hold onto it tightly, Riftwalker, I suspect it is your greatest strength."

I smiled. "I know."

***