Day in the story: 30th September (Tuesday)
So… I might have made a mistake. I was bored, okay? Who could bla ?
Sure, Zoe said the Ideworld was dangerous. But she also said there were things to be found in there. And it’s not like I was getting any proper action lately, last night’s escapade hardly counts. Peter was out with Zoe, Sophie was God knows where and my sewing supplies weren’t coming until tomorrow at the earliest. The portal was supposed to stay open for about 24 hours and it had shown up around 4:30 PM. That ant I should’ve had at least 19 more hours left, right?
It was only 9:30 PM.
But when I stepped through—there was no goddamn exit portal on the other side.
Just like that, I was stuck, in so warped version of the park. The sky, when I could glimpse it between the thick canopy overhead, was eerily beautiful. Stars shimred like ice chips and multiple moons hung in the heavens like silent guardians. It was haunting and srizing.
And yeah, I wasn’t completely unprepared. I had my mask and body-paint armor on, a stash of pre-painted spell-scrolls and spray cans for quick magic on the fly. I’d thought this through, kind of. What I hadn’t expected was to end up in a jungle. The park’s usual trees were replaced by towering giants, their massive trunks twisted and their crowns interlocking far above like sothing out of a dream, or a nightmare.
This was bad. This was really, really not looking good.
I was crouched in this world’s version of a gazebo, massive, twisted wooden beams forming strong walls around as I peeked out cautiously. From here, I considered my options.
I was definitely not crossing the bridge over the pond.
The water there wasn’t right. It fell upward, like a curtain of reverse rain, rising from the pond into the sky. And inside that rising rain, fish swam, gliding effortlessly as if it were a stream. One of them, a koi by its vivid, marbled coloring, lunged out of the water, snatched a bird flying too close to the edge of the rain, swallowed it whole, then vanished back into the current like nothing happened.
Yeah. Not going anywhere near that thing.
But the forest path wasn’t much better. I heard the howling sounds, low and hungry. Wolves? How could there be wolves in the middle of the city? Even a twisted version of it?
I glanced up through the canopy. Maybe…
Thanks to my power-imbued armor, I could jump pretty damn high. Maybe I could make it into the treetops. Getting a better vantage point might help spot another portal, or at least get a lay of the land.
And there was always my ho. It wasn’t far, even in this place. According to Zoe, my Domain had to be there. That made sense; I felt it, like a tether pulling at my soul. Maybe, if all else failed, it could send back the way it did before.
But…
This world was new, strange, alive with possibilities. There were things here, wonders, threats, maybe power too. Soulmarks, Zoe had said. Marks that could change . Strengthen my connection to my Domain.
The smart thing would be to leave. Find a portal or head ho. But then again… I wasn’t helpless anymore.
Maybe I could explore a little first.
"Let’s just do it," I muttered to myself and finally stepped out of the shelter.
I jumped onto its roof, then higher, grabbing one of the lower branches overhead. I hauled myself up, balanced, then looked for a thicker one. Another jump. Another climb. I repeated the process, moving with the awkward rhythm of so hybrid between a human and a chimp, until I erged near the top.
The trees here were massive, their branches tightly interwoven to form a kind of ceiling, a thick, tangled web of wood and leaves. It wasn’t easy to get through, but that ant it was probably stable enough to walk on. I scanned for a break in the tangle, one of the holes I’d spotted from below and began hopping from branch to branch.
Eventually, I found one.
I landed carefully on a thick limb just beneath it and leaned up, poking my head through to check out what lay above.
Oh boy.
“Surface” was the right word.
It looked like a second forest up here, a whole valley ford from the canopy itself. Where the trees below had pushed so of their limbs through the sh, they beca like little trees in their own right. Leafgrass spread across the uneven terrain and dense clumps of tangled branches ford soft hills. I could finally see the sky clearly, dotted with strange stars and those moons still hanging above.
It was beautiful, bizarre and far safer than walking through the shadows below.
I decided then: this was the path forward. A high road through the treetops, the secret floor of the park.
I erged carefully, taking a few slow, testing steps to see if this strange second floor would actually hold . My feet sank just slightly into the thick mat of foliage, but it was solid, springy, like the safety flooring in a kids’ playground. Encouraged, I picked up my pace to a light jog, weaving around tufts of leaf-grass and the occasional knotted branch mound. If there were holes or weak spots, they were visible enough to avoid.
I decided to head in the direction of the bridge that would, in theory, take toward my side of the city. I could explore and make my way ho at the sa ti. But as I ran, a few things beca very clear.
First: this park was much larger than its version in my world. I should’ve reached the edge by now, or at least caught a glimpse of it. But there was nothing. Just more canopy, more branches, more forest stretching out endlessly.
Second: the wildlife here was—different.
So birds flew high above, crows or ravens, maybe, but they were massive, eagle-sized things with wide wingspans. Others were more disturbing, pigeons draped in oily black feathers, gliding silently. And then, I saw them.
The “wolves.”
I froze and quickly ducked behind a thick outcropping of branches and leaves rising like a small hedge from the canopy’s surface. Peering through the foliage, my magically enhanced sight cut through the night like a spotlight.
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What I saw made my skin crawl.
Grey shapes moved below, crawling up from holes in the lower forest. Their backs were muscular, powerful and their front limbs were almost too articulated, like distorted human arms covered in fur, strong enough to grab and climb. One of them erged fully, hauling itself onto the upper level and then it looked right at .
I froze.
Its tail moved behind it, not like dog’s, but like a snake, long and prehensile. Its maw was wrong too, there were two oversized front teeth, sharp and yellowed.
This wasn’t a wolf.
It was a squirrel. An oversized, twisted squirrel the size of a large dog, built like a predator, not a prey animal.
What. The. Hell.
They all saw , every one of them. All six. But they didn’t rush . Instead, they began to fan out, forming a loose circle. Hunters. They were definitely preparing to hunt down.
I could have lit them on fire with my spray spells, but I didn’t want to risk burning the entire canopy down. Besides, I wasn’t eager to kill an animal just because it confused with dinner.
So, I made the first move.
I stopped hiding and jumped straight at the one furthest to my left. Going for the one in front would’ve exposed to all of them, this way, I had better odds. It flinched in surprise, leaping backward. I used that hesitation, launched myself over it, grabbed it by the shoulders midair and hurled it toward its companions with one big swing as I landed.
Unfortunately, that little stunt didn’t do much to discourage the pack. Even the one I’d thrown managed to twist midair and land gracefully on all fours. Now all six of them, with their massive fluffy tails and twitching whiskers, were charging at full speed.
Well, no one can say I didn’t try to be a pacifist and environntalist.
One lunged at . I crouched low and drove my fist into its gut. It yelped, hissed and landed on its back a few feet away. But I didn’t have ti to appreciate the success, two more rose on their hind legs and slashed at with claws the size of kitchen knives. I blocked the left one with my forearm, my armor held, but I felt the strength in that blow. It forced to pivot right, letting that one pass behind .
Then I struck the one on the right, square in the face. My fist collided with its oversized front teeth, shattering them with a sickening crunch. The squirrel scread, clutching its mouth with both front paws in a disturbingly human gesture. I didn’t give it a chance to recover, I kicked it in the knees and drove it to the ground.
I tried to leap away, but I wasn’t fast enough.
One of them latched onto my back, its front paws gripping tight and its hind legs kicked hard into my lower back. Fortunately, my painted armor was solid there, I’d taken ti to reinforce it with detail and that held up under my authority. But then it scrambled upward and one clawed paw landed right on a section I’d smudged, mid-back, where I couldn’t reach well while painting.
That hurt.
I bucked hard, grabbed it and kicked with both legs from beneath. The thing went sailing.
I was just about to get back on my feet when another bit into my arm and hung on. It didn’t hurt much thanks to the armor, but it restricted my movent. I lifted it into the air and punched it in the throat with my free arm. Sothing cracked. It went limp and I flung it off. The one I’d launched earlier was now impaled on a branch far above.
That left four.
Two were wounded, one limping, one cradling its broken face and two were still fresh.
And ?
I was gasping. My limbs felt like lead. Even with this power-enhanced armor, that flurry of fighting had drained worse than any chase or run ever had. I’d need proper martial arts training if I was going to survive here. Whatever basics Mr. Penrose taught wouldn’t cut it in here.
Ti to bring a little more magic to this fight.
I grabbed two spray cans, green in my right hand yellow in my left, from the bag at my side and stood ready, waiting for the first squirrel to make its move.
It didn't take long. It charged fast, confident it had . As it leapt, I jumped back, keeping my distance and sprayed a wide arc of green across its face and fur.
Be the acid, I commanded the paint.
Nothing.
I didn’t feel my authority stir at all. Not enough artistry. It didn’t look like acid, it just looked like paint. No creativity, no power.
Still, the creature was annoyed by the assault. It stumbled, blinking furiously, swiping at the paint in its eyes.
I raised the yellow can, trying to improvise as I went. A dash of light here, a splash of green there. A few chaotic drops and angry smudges, trying to make sothing look like corrosion, like a chemical reaction in progress, even as the rest of the pack closed in around .
Be the acid, I said again, this ti with more belief, more detail.
And then it happened.
My arms lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. This wasn’t the usual slow swirl of glowing mist. No, this was raw, electric. Streams of light in chaotic, pulsing colors sparked around , wrapping my limbs in living energy before surging into the paint and from there, into the painted squirrel.
It had just enough ti to hiss.
Then it couldn’t hiss anymore.
Its face lted, literally lted, skin and bone warping, collapsing into itself like wax under a blowtorch. It crumpled to the ground, twitching, already dead.
My authority snapped back to , rejuvenating my soul.
I jumped away as two of the squirrels tried to corner , landing near a tree that pierced through the canopy. One of its branches jutted out, exposed, jagged and sharp.
People have been fighting with pointy sticks since the dawn of ti, right?
I shoved my paints back into my bag, grabbed the branch and tore it off the trunk, crafting a gnarled, makeshift spear. Then I turned and sprinted, dodging between leaf-mounds and tree stumps, while painting the weapon as I ran: first silver, then streaks of black and white, like veins and light glinting off steel.
I could hear the squirrels gaining on . I could sll them, too, thanks to the mask. Their scent lit up in my head like a 3D map, eerily precise and inhumanly detailed.
Be the tallic spear, I commanded and lightning sparked again, raw authority channeling through my arms into the painted weapon.
I stopped dead in my tracks, turned and impaled the first squirrel as it leapt. The spear drove through its head, cracking bone and splattering its brains across the forest floor.
I tried to yank the spear out, but it was lodged deep. No ti.
Two more squirrels were already in the air, coming for like twin missiles.
I let go of the spear and dove sideways, crashing through the brush and launching myself off a nearby trunk. I hit the ground hard, skidding across the leafy floor. My lungs burned. My arms trembled. The armor was holding, but I was running on fus.
Still, I pulled the green and yellow cans from my belt and raised them toward the oncoming creatures.
They stopped.
Eyes on the cans. Then on my face, blank behind the mask.
I stared back, silent.
After a long beat, they turned and ran, vanishing into the canopy without a sound.
I slumped against the tree and laughed. Then I cried. Then laughed again. My body was wrecked. My emotions, a chaotic swirl. That fight couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but it drained worse than the marathon I once ran, or even the bridge climb and that brawl with the gangsters yesterday.
When I finally regained my composure, I went back and pried the spear from the squirrel’s skull. It ca free with a wet crunch. I knelt down and gently touched the creature’s back, brushing its fur with my fingers.
I’d given them the benefit of the doubt. I hesitated. I didn’t want to kill.
That was a mistake.
Never again.
Mr. Penrose would have had lashed for this as well. Probably twice over.
He taught this lesson already, more than once. The first ti, I was eleven.
He’d bought a puppy. I could only play with him at Penrose's house, of course, I wasn’t allowed to keep pets at the orphanage, but even with just a few visits, I’d bonded with him. Clowney, I called him.
Then one day, Penrose handed a knife and told to kill him. Said to do it while he was sleeping.
I couldn’t. I froze.
That was the first ti I was lashed.
Then I had to watch while one of Penrose’s n tortured Clowney, slowly. For hours. Until Penrose killed him himself.
I cried the whole ti.
“Society teaches you that killing is bad,” he told afterward. “But it’s not. Sotis it’s humane. Sotis it’s necessary. Sotis it’s a mistake. But it’s normal. And you need to learn to treat it as such.”
He repeated the lesson many tis in the years that followed. Until I accepted it. Until I believed him.
He was right.
Everything kills, animals, plants, fungi, viruses, bacteria. Even the elents: fire, water, wind, lightning. Nature is full of death. Yet we, humans, pretend we’re above it. That we shouldn’t kill. That we’re different.
We’re not.
We shouldn’t be.
I almost died because I thought I was better than those creatures. Because I hesitated. Because I wanted to be kind.
That was stupid.
So lessons have to be repeated before they really sink in.
Let’s hope this was the last ti.
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