Look at me.

  Red sunflowers and yellow roses give color to the empty darkness of the night. The moon and its milky light are silent, taking with them the iridescent glow of the cosmos; consumed by the blood that spreads through the earth. They nourish the hateful and twisted vegetation that was once so beautiful. The pasture had become jungle, trees as big as mountains expand and block the view of the horizon; they hide the light of the sun that I used as north.

  I travel around and around in circles and squares, with no hope or confidence that one day I will return to the real world. Screams are lost, muffled by the knife-sharp plants. The impact of my steps shakes the soaked earth like waves in a lake. I conjure tidal waves, create fires, hoping that the chaos that kills me will also protect me.

  Stop crying. Don't look at me.

  Kill and die. Kill and die. Arcane and divine unite and lose their meaning when the mountains of bodies are devoured by the trees.

  The escape from morality always awaits me on the other side of the moon, where the star does not hate me as it does in the real world, no matter how comfortable it is.

  Look at me.

  Let the light of the moon be silent, no matter how much she protects me with her mantle, let her hatred be what persecutes me and let her love be the only thing that prevents me from being consumed. The stars are silent, they show me the way with their astral map to the exit. May chaos take over the world when you hear my name, may it be the one I use to save me-

  Blood.

  I fall from heaven to earth and tear out the jungle next to me. I roll for miles until I regain my strength and conjure once more. More time. Hours and hours. Keep fighting, keep going until the Sun that you don't allow to appear saves you without you wanting to be saved.

  My leg.

  Where's my leg?

  Look at me.

  Don't do it.

  She will use her weakness against you.

  She will stab you in the back when she can, destroy your mind so that you achieve your goals.

  That's what they'll all do.

  “Leave me.”

  The darkness of unconsciousness is pierced by the soft light of his voice. Red eyes stare at the pristine light of the moon, then close in denial. My skin burns in shame, my eyes wander to the ground as I try to get up.

  I didn't trust them. In Nia, Wander, Hoffstein, or even you. I chose to fight alone. If he had listened to Cloud, he could have fought Serdin; he could have turned the tide of the battle. So many decisions, and I chose the worst of them all.

  How could you? You know her heart uses it for its own ends.

  Justice must be done.

  Abandon it, just as you abandoned the rest. Leave humanity to humanity. You are bigger than that.

  You are-

  LOOK AT ME!

  I open my eyes. Morgana hovers over the ground, her ghostly aspect glowing sapphire blue and reflecting the silver light of the moon. Her cold touch passes over my shoulders and descends until it grabs my hands. She approaches and opens a sad, comforting and worrying smile; as beautiful as the first time I saw her.

  My eyes wander to the ground, my hands dig into the earth. The Green Knight fought for his people even after death. His determination remained in the depths of his chest, even after everything that made him up had degenerated.

  Dreams warned me of blades in the darkness. I knew it. Humans will hurt me as they have done in the past, and I will hurt them in righteous revenge. That's the way it always has been and always will be.

  “I wanted a reason to fight.” I nod to myself. “Even if I already knew the answer. I had forgotten. How hypocritical. Isn't forgetting that also violence against you?”

  River. My chest hurts. “I couldn't trust them. My dreams warned me of knives in the dark. Serdin knew. Who else knew? No. They don't… you would do that, wouldn't you? They … I couldn't. I can't. Not again. I'm sorry. That shouldn't matter.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Our hands go through each other.

  “It's okay. I am here.”

  Morgana touches the floor, and on it, begins to draw. “Of course it will matter. That's all that matters. Is it not through simple people that the goodness of the light is shown? Wasn't it through Elron that you decided not to destroy the world?”

  “… Morgana…?”

  A girl with long hair. “You remind me of my little sister. It was through her that I also loved in this world. She was ripped from me. I wouldn't care so much if she hadn't shown me that love.” She inspires. “The ordinary is hateful for many reasons. But it's also wonderful for others. An ordinary family, loving as the ordinary. This is the goodness that is worth fighting for. Otherwise, you would have already given yourself over to iniquity.”

  Morgana frowns, but holds back her words of revenge. “Listen to me carefully. I don't have much time. You allowed me to enter, but I tried for hours to manage to communicate, without success. Hilda's influence interfered with the magic, and I couldn't get back to the seal; our connection is the only reason we can talk, and soon that won't be enough either. Hoffstein and I are on our way to Hilda's domain to save her.”

  “… Where am I? Where are Nia and the others?”

  “I don't know. Scattered, perhaps. We are in the Unknown now, but when you wake up, you will be in the ‘stomach’ of the Mother Tree. There's no way out. You must use chaos to create one.”

  “I can't. I'm exhausted.”

  “You can. Just like he did with Aldwyn.”

  I shake my head. “No. That was different. Years and years of accumulated mana coming back to replenish me. I can't do that again.”

  “You don't have to. With each floor you complete, you get stronger. Opening the gates and having more power is enough. Find your friends and go to the end of the horizon. Use chaos. Hoffstein is on his way, and we will weaken the Queen so that you can break free.”

  “… I-”

  “You will have to sort out whatever prevents you from accessing the gates of this floor, just as you did with Aldwyn. No matter which way you go, I'll be here to hug you when I get back.”

  I feel the chill on my chin and lift him up to face her. Her shape begins to crumble, sapphire dust turns to steam and spreads as it escapes between my fingers.

  “… But, if I may, Sieghart, I wish you to remember the kindness you have been offered, the reason you are in conflict. I don't know what lies in the depths of your heart, but I would like you to stay by my side, too.”

  Then disappear.

  ***

  The darkness of unconsciousness is pierced by the light that comes from the soft voice. Morgana whispers in my ears her last instructions before our communication is cut off.

  My eyes open the curtains of worldliness and show me what is hidden, awaken my senses to what cannot be perceived. In Dufae, others might have awakened an ocular manifestation, but only I had the power to truly unravel what the power showed me. Only I saw the creatures of chaos that lurked in the unknown, and only I could pull the tangles of aura that writhed in the air.

  Lines. Just as in the Dufae test, lines tangle in the air, intricate as a spider's web. Complex structures that configure billions and billions of orders, commands, functions, and reactions. A logical configuration that operates the universe and maintains it, so comprehensible and so far from being truly understood.

  Iridescent, slender, true. They dance through the air in freedom, twist in delirium, and then break, unstable as the wind. They descend from heaven to hell, are consumed in fear, pulled into the abyss that hides below the ground.

  Memories come and go. They always show up when I'm in a deplorable state like this. The rot that wandered around me, the whispers and curses that tainted my vision, were not only from the chaos, but also from the villagers. But magic showed me something different. The brilliance, the beauty, the mystery, the charm, the magic, and the wonder. I want to hold them. Hold them in my arms until their concepts come to life and thank me.

  My chest beats. Emotions return, strong. I have not yet got used to its intensity, especially for subjects of good tone. But I don't care, they will be useful to me. Because of them, I force my body upward and can ignore the exhaustion of the flesh. Because of them, I frown in anger.

  How dare you take the colors from me?

  Return to consciousness. The daydreams of beauty and enlightenment leave my mind, and the memories of Hilda pull me back to my mission. Dense air weighs on my chest, exhaustion makes my muscles ache. My organs ache, my movements are slow; the side effects of my arrival catch up with me.

  The desert of honey stretches out in front of me, rivers of milk and mountains of biscuit fill the toxic stomach of the Mother Tree. Next to them, giant, mutilated bodies, piles of corpses and other fairies who dared to defy the Queen sink into the ground; billions upon billions of tons of matter. The yellow sky vomits rivers of acid, and its gastric juice forms puddles and lakes.

  Finally, the sun does not exist.

  In its place, a transparent hole ends the logic of the natural world and imposes its own irregular logic. The horizon distorts, everything is generated from the “hole” and everything returns to it. It was our entry, but not the escape. No, the feeling of strangeness can be perceived even by someone inept at conjuring. Space is almost infinite, and it can create more space infinitely to continue receiving matter. The amount of matter is incalculable, with more than hundreds of years being accumulated in billions of tons.

  An entrance, but not an exit. There's no way out.

  More than a statement, I believe that this place does not have the concept of an “exit”. Everything is the “hole”. This is the “stomach”. There is no way out, because there is no logic that makes it possible. Its sole function is to destroy what is swallowed, and all the laws of physics bend to do this purpose. To say that I will escape is as illogical as to say that I will breathe underwater, that a fish will fly, or a dog will meow.

  Fortunately, the logic of the material world never mattered to me.

  I need to find those three.

  So be it. I control my breathing so that I don't absorb too much of the toxins, I jump with the rest of the magic I possess to avoid being sunk in the melted honey, and destroy food scraps that block my passage. Animals and bodies. Everything is mixed up, like a witch's gigantic cauldron.

  I pray that my team has not become just another ingredient.