//------------------------------// // Stuck // Story: Worlds Apart: The Chosen of the Prognosticus // by GMBlackjack //------------------------------// The gauntlet sat in the middle of the darkness of Lumash, a verdant green ball of life currently inhabited by seven people. The brilliant flowers of the vines were ending their time in bloom, starting to go to seed. There was not a single newborn sprout yet, but one of the seven denizens was eagerly waiting for the day she would see a brand new life form. Cosmo lowered her watering can, moistening the soil where she had planted the Seedrian seeds. “Now, my children, you’re very lucky. My mother, Earthia, I only knew as a tree that couldn’t move outside of our starship. But I will be able to tend to each and every one of you wherever you are!” She giggled to herself. “Just have to save the world first! Aww, don’t be sad, mother will be back, don’t you worry.” The planted seeds didn’t respond to her. They wouldn’t for a few years—from what Cosmo remembered in school, it often took months for a sprout to emerge from the earth, and then a couple years before it formed a full body and detached from the ground. Normally, this would be a very vulnerable state for the Seedrian, but since all the traps had been disabled during the month Cosmo had been staying here, there was little that could threaten a Seedrian newborn. Because she wasn’t actually sure she’d be around when they sprouted, she’d spent the last month encasing the various star-like orbs in vines so the newborns couldn’t fall into the fire either. This gauntlet had become a garden. Her garden. She was immensely proud of it. It would be a perfect genesis point for a new generation of Seedrians. She only wished the others could be as happy as she was… Deciding she was done tending to the seeds, she returned to the house—the cannibalized Metarex ship that they’d embedded into a larger desert platform and decorated with all sorts of things. The interior was no longer harsh, cold metal, but soft carpet, green grass, and beautiful lights that drifted this way and that. Climbing up the ramp, Cosmo noted that someone was sitting in front of the digital fireplace. “Good morning, Toph!” The girl in the wheelchair grunted a weak hello. “I was just out tending to the seeds,” Cosmo said. “They’re going to love it here. When they sprout I can’t wait to introduce you, w—” “If I’m still here when they sprout, we’re all dead,” Toph deadpanned. “Now, don’t say that.” Cosmo huffed. “I’m sure the worlds will be saved no matter what.” “I wish I had your optimism. Oh, wait. No I don’t. It’s idiotic.” Cosmo had burst into tears the first few times Toph had tried this, but at this point she was more than used to it. With a sigh, Cosmo turned and left Toph to her brooding. She heard the wheelchair’s wheels squeak after she’d turned her back, indicating Toph was going out on another of her rides. Cosmo hoped she didn’t get the wheelchair stuck in a bush again—that was always hard to deal with. Toph refused to acknowledge she needed help but she did and it always ended up with her shouting bloody murder and throwing a few rocks around. To be fair, Toph actually wasn’t the worst offender. Cosmo didn’t want to think about that right now. Cosmo climbed up a ladder to the observation deck, where Tippi was fluttering, looking out the window. “Good morning, Tippi!” Cosmo called. “How are you doing?” “Do you ever… remember?” Tippi asked. Cosmo cocked her head to one side. “Remember what?” “Things… that you didn’t do. Yet feel so right…” “Uh… no?” “Oh…” Tippi fell silent. Cosmo wanted to say something, but unlike what was going on with the others, she didn’t understand Tippi’s distancing. Something was going on in the Pixl’s head that Cosmo couldn’t figure out, and this greatly concerned her. Cautiously, Cosmo climbed back down the ladder to the main floor. Putting a smile back on her face, she knocked on the door to Engineering. “Good morning!” “PANCAKE!” Twilight shouted, pulling her head out of a pile of papers covered in star-shaped diagrams and scrawlings. “Oh, uh…” She shook her head, pulling her mane back into a more presentable—but still terrible—state. “Good morning, Cosmo! How are the seeds doing?” “Snug in their little garden,” Cosmo reported. “How goes… this?” Cosmo gestured at the shards of blue metal spread around the Pure Heart in an equidistant circle. “We’re making progress!” “She is deluding herself,” Data reported. “We have made no progress whatsoever.” “Not with that attitude we haven’t!” Twilight cackled. “See, if we can shunt the power of creation inherent in the Pure Heart into the Launch Star’s shards, we should be able to reassemble them!” “If we had all the pieces. Which we do not.” “It’s creation, Data! It has to have the ability somewhere in it to bring it out of nothing.” “Possibly, but we do not have access to that capability.” “Stop being such a sourpuss,” Twilight said, waving a dismissive hoof. “I am attempting to get you to consider alternative methods.” “Such as…?” Data opened his mouth to respond, but shut it after coming up with nothing substantial. “Thought so. How about you run another analysis of the shard composition in that cute little list format.” “Cute…?” Twilight gagged on her own saliva. “Pretend I didn’t say that!” “This marks the four-hundred and sixty-fifth time you’ve asked me to pretend like you haven’t said something along those lines.” “That doesn’t sound like someone forgetting!” “No. Merely like someone pretending to forget. I am incapable of actually forgetting due to the nature of my positronic net a—” “How about you two stop this little… spat?” Cosmo suggested, smiling awkwardly. Twilight’s left eye twitched. “Ah, yes, Cosmo! Still here, I see! Got anything I can… use? Any more shards?” “Uh, no, I was just saying good morning…” “Then we need to get back to work. I’m sure your kids miss you.” She levitated Cosmo out of Engineering and shut the doors. Immediately Cosmo heard her start rattling off numbers and scientific jargon to Data. “...Well, at least they’re enjoying each other’s company,” Cosmo told herself. “...Sorta.” With a sigh, she left the ship, returning to tending the garden. Some new blooms had probably gone to seed since yesterday and it was her job to collect them. She had to cover the entire gauntlet in a day. It was hard work, but she enjoyed it. Plus, it gave her something more hopeful to do than all the others. She caught sight of a fire in the far edge of the gauntlet and made a mental note not to go that direction today. ~~~ Vivian sat in the middle of a burning ball of vines, bawling her eyes out. Her tears hit the superheated ground, puffing into clouds of steam instantly. Flaming leaves drifted from above, falling all around and on top of her, coating her in her own flames. She didn’t care. She wished they could actually burn her. She deserved it. All she’d wanted was to talk to Toph. But… but that stubborn girl just spat insults and Vivian hadn’t liked that. So just a fireball to teach her a lesson, right? A fireball or… twenty… hundred… Toph had gotten away, of course—Vivian had seen her wheelchair drifting between planets, launched by some kind of rock pillar—but that had only made it seem like a good idea to bathe more of the area in fire. And at that point, Vivian was surrounded by flames and everything was burning and she was evil and it was terrible and there was no hope and she didn’t belong and— She clapped her hands together, letting out a shrill scream. All the flames vanished in an instant, revealing the black, charred orbs around her. She’d extinguished the area of life. That was all she was good for, wasn't it? Just some shadowy demon that wasn’t anyone’s friend, just… useful, until she wasn’t. Sobbing to herself, she drifted lazily from world to world, branch to branch, leaving the charred area for somewhere more green. She subconsciously avoided all the other places she’d burned during their stay, as well as the Metarex ship. There was no use in going back there. Everyone just hated each other. She was the outsider, might as well put herself outside where she belonged. Alone. “Aslan!” She heard Caspian shouting below her. Jumping in shock, she hid behind a bush, not wanting to be seen. She needn’t have worried—Caspian was too busy yelling at the blackness outside the gauntlet. The King currently stood on the edge of a marble platform that jutted out into the nothing. He swung his sword around angrily before driving it into a vine a few feet behind him. “Aslan, why have you forsaken me!?” He held out one of his arms—the other still in a sling. The darkness offered no response. “I know you can see me, I know you watch, I know you here! No barrier of worlds can stop your power, so why do you leave me, your faithful servant, to rot!?” Nothing came. “I have loyally and faithfully led your Narnian servants through trials, I overthrew Miraz, I fought for your army, I traveled to the edge of the world but listened to your command to go no further! And now I answered your call to go out into the worlds and save all creation! How am I saving all creation by sitting in this disabled death trap!?” Silence. “You do not abandon us!” “He has,” a voice answered. Vivian looked down to see Toph riding a block of earth under her wheelchair to get to Caspian. “Aslan has never abandoned us.” “Take a look at the evidence to the contrary,” Toph spat. “Stuck on this rock, no friends, no way out, and all the while everything inches closer to the Void. You remember Tippi’s freak out last week, you know the Void is still eating this world.” “We… will not be left here.” “Are you sure?” Toph demanded. “Even if he is watching us, even if he is everything you say he is, doesn’t he have the right to just toss us to the side of the road for ‘our own good’ just because we don’t suit him anymore!?” “He… wouldn’t do that.” “How on earth do you know that?” “I… I…” Caspian’s legs began to tremble and he fell to his knees. “He watches over us… He watches over us… He watches over us…” “Great, now you’re devolving into madness.” Toph put her hands to the wheels of her chair and turned around. “It’s only a matter of time before you start making sacrifices to appeal to the great lion, hoping he will see your devotion.” “I would never,” Caspian breathed. “Give yourself a few years. Oh, wait. We’ll all be dead by then.” Toph rolled away, balancing the earth under her wheels with her earthbending. Soon, she was gone. Vivian wiped her eyes and drifted down to Caspian. She wasn’t sure why she did, and judging from his shocked expression, he was just as surprised as she was about her actions. “...Vivian,” he said, emotionless. “Aslan,” Vivian said. “You… you all met him. I didn’t. I never really got a good idea of… what he was like.” Caspian sat down smiling softly. “Aslan… he is kind, brilliant, just, caring, powerful, understanding, and… and…” He struggled to keep a straight face. “Nothing… is beyond him.” “So he could just… get us out of here?” “Yes. He’s dragged people from other worlds many times. I’ve seen it myself.” “So… why… doesn’t he?” “I… I don’t know!” Caspian hung his head. “He usually wants us to live life without his constant guidance! But… but this should be more important than us! The worlds… the worlds are in danger! We can’t just be… left here!” “...I dunno.” Vivina looked back at the still-smoking area she’d just left behind. “Maybe we should be left here.” “What do you mean?” “Look at what we’re doing. Burning things, shouting at each other, obsessively working on projects without sleeping, or… whatever’s going on with Tippi.” Vivian stood up, shaking her head. “Why did we ever think we were heroes?” “Because we were chosen.” “And what good is that?” Vivian shook her head, drifting away. Caspian didn’t move to stop her. There was no reason he would, anyway. She knew what he thought of her—some unnatural demon of darkness that he only spoke to because he’d been told to respect her. Catch him on the wrong day and she suspected she’d get a sword through the gut. She found herself a dark, damp area of the gauntlet and hid herself in the shadows, not coming out for hours.