Etudie Perpetuity

A wooden table with four seats, each facing a cardinal direction. On the head of edge seat, there were crests, crests with words etched onto them in a language that nobody in this world could read.

Taoc appeared first, hovering over the seat in the North. Her tiny hands were still frozen in a snapping motion, making her look a little silly. Her body was misty and translucent. The first thing to become solid were her eyes, and they were darting about the room in a panic. Then, her head unfroze, she began to complain, and the rest of her body finally materialized in the room. She let out a long sigh and fell directly onto the chair.

Kelser appeared in the seat in the West. He was also frozen in a snapping motion, but only for a moment. Before Taoc could point and laugh, Kelser had completely materialized, and he was giving the little spirit a quizzical look.

Taoc crossed her arms.

Kelser looked to the seat in the East.

Kol appeared, also in a snapping motion. Taoc thought that she would finally get to have her fun, but Kol also materialized almost instantaneously. Taoc stomped her feet in midair, having begun hovering before anybody noticed.

Kol and Kelser exchanged glances. They shrugged.

“Is everybody here?”

Kol, Kelser, and Taoc cut to the South.

“When did you get here?” asked Taoc, her bottom lip quivering.

“Just now, why?” replied Noel, raising an eyebrow.

Taoc breathed out. “Nothing. Surprised we didn’t notice you, that’s all.”

“Must be because my magic is better than yours,” said Noel, with a shrug.

“Serpents can be pretty silent,” said Kelser.

“What did you say?” said Noel.

“Just a fun fact, that’s all,” said Kelser.

“Enough, you two,” said Kol, rubbing her temple. “Always bickering for no reason. How long has it been since we’ve had to work together. You’d think a few centuries of establishing a new world order would’ve helped you two get along.”

“I can’t help it. Once a traitor, always a traitor,” said Kelser as he scowled at Noel.

“Traitor? I guess that means you won’t be needing my help the next time an extra-dimensional invader crashes into this universe,” said Noel with a grin. “I seem to remember a certain pathetic human pleading for my help on his knees.”

“And I remember a certain arrogant elf getting knocked unconscious from one swing from an extra-dimensional killer whale,” said Kelser.

The two glared at each other.

Kol sighed. “Yes, yes, we’ve all had to work together to beat some crazy enemies over the years. All of us have contributed to the safety and prosperity of this dimension. You don’t need to get into an argument about that kinda stuff.”

Kelser and Noel kept quibbling for a while. Kol would interject to calm things down. Taoc yawned. She brought her gaze to the center of the table.

In the middle of the table, there was a wooden sundial. The only problem was, there was no sunlight in this room. All of the light was coming from the walls, and the walls were glowing white, reminiscent of the Nothingness which no longer existed.

After all, this world was no longer a ‘reflection’ of the Simurgh. It was an independent world. A true physical dimension.

The sundial’s shadow was growing shorter. It gave off no sound but Taoc could’ve sworn she could hear it ticking in her mind. She stared at it, drowning out the pointless bickering happening on the other seats.

The bickering stopped.

The sundial clicked.

Static. Rough. Patchy.

The table expanded until it was no longer circular. Instead, it was a rectangle with three seats on either side. The two seats that had appeared near the other end were filled by two strange figures, and Noel and Kelser, who were sitting the closest to those figures, almost jumped out of their seats.

“Why are you surprised?” asked one of the figures as it materialized.

“I knew we would be meeting you two today,” said Kelser, scratching his chin, “but I didn’t think you’d be sitting at the same table with us.”

“Well, don’t get used to it!” said the other figure as he struggled in his seat. Most of his body was still frozen and translucent, but a couple of tentacles were flailing about. “When I get my domains back, I won’t need to be sitting on this table with you mortals!”

“Oh stop it already, will you, eyeball?” said Taoc.

“Eyeball? Why you—” said Prose, the being formerly known as the Evil Eye.

“Domains don’t exist anymore, my friend,” said the Simurgh as it picked at one of its feathers with a beak. The Simurgh was in its singular bird form, with a familiar crown on its head. Except, its feathers were bright, colorful, and even a little mesmerizing.

“Have you been… decorating your feathers?” asked Kol, slowly.

“You like them?” said the Simurgh, its beak contorting into a horrifying smile. “I have to say, a few centuries of being sealed in the sky gave me a lot of time to think. I was observing the sentient races down on the planet, and I have to say, the idea of fashion and beauty caught my eye for about five decades. Looking fabulous is my new purpose in life!”

Taoc blinked. “Well, you can come with me to the big city. We can get a tailor to make you some clothes and accessories.”

“Would you really?” said the Simurgh, flapping its wings. “That would be wonderful!”

The strange scene was a little uncanny, but everybody got over it pretty quickly. Prose was still a little defiant, and he kept prodding and prying for ways to regain his power and stuff, but nobody could tell him anything satisfying.

“Prose, even if you recreated your domains, they would be too limited,” said Noel, leaning back in her chair.

“What do you mean?” asked the sentient eyeball.

“Haven’t you seen the Academy? Think about it. An institution that can create new spells, new applications for those spells, and all sorts of other magical innovations,” said Noel. “If something like that exists, it’ll produce spells and magic faster than you can digest and make use of a domain. Domains are pointless, which was why they ceased to exist, and all knowledge is free floating, all wisdom is abstract, and the only limit left for magic is your own imagination and learning.”

Prose stared at the elf for a long time. Eventually, his tentacles fell to the chair and he even seemed to sigh, even though he had no mouth and couldn’t really let out any air. Spending all that time forced to observe sentient mortals seemed to have had a deep impact on the former Immortal’s mannerisms. “Alright, fine. I’ll give up on domains. But don’t think you’re out of the woods, yet! I’m going to learn so much magic, I’ll be able to do anything that I want!”

“Like what?” asked Taoc.

“Like building a log cabin in the woods and writing all day and night!” proclaimed Prose.

Silence.

“What?” asked Kelser.

“Yes! I’ll build a powerful, isolated cabin, where none of you can bother me ever again! I’ll stay inside and write and write and write, whatever comes to my mind, whatever I want people to read! I’ll send stuff out by magic, and the whole world will wait for my stories impatiently! It’ll be wonderful, wonderful I say!” said Prose, waving his tentacles in a frenzy.

Kol blinked. “Er, Prose.”

“What is it, puny demon?” said Prose.

“You know we aren’t going to force you to come to these meetings, right?” said Kol.

Prose blinked his large eyeball. “What? No, I don’t believe you! You stuck me into the sky for centuries, you pathetic, vindictive mortals! I won’t believe anything you say!”

“We weren’t the ones who sealed you two away, you know,” said Noel.

The Simurgh stopped pruning its feathers. Prose stopped moving his tentacles. The two former Immortals looked at the four former mortals, before averting their gazes and staring at the sundial in the middle of the table. It wasn’t ticking, stuck at high noon in a room without a sun.

“I will never forgive that outsider,” said Prose, his voice low and grim.

“If he hadn’t run away from this dimension while sealing off the connection to his universe, I would’ve dragged him here and pecked him to pieces,” said the Simurgh, its voice steady, but without the gravity that it used to possess back when it was the most powerful being in this world.

The four former mortals let the silence hang in the air. They were also staring at the sundial as it ticked while stuck at high noon.

“How long were we supposed to wait again?” asked Taoc.

“My letter said it should appear any minute now,” said Kelser.

“Right, those accursed letters!” shouted Prose. “Do you know how annoying it is to be able to see anything in this world except for those damned letters? It was torturous! Curiosity has been nibbling my insides for centuries!”

“It didn’t help that you four refused to read them aloud,” said the Simurgh.

“Oh, we did,” said Noel. “You couldn’t hear our voices or see us when we were doing that, though.”

“Yeah, we used it all the time to hide stuff from you guys,” said Kelser.

“Nobody wants a couple of weirdos spying over them all the time, you know,” said Taoc.

“Weirdos?” said Prose. “I’ll have you know, we respected your privacy completely!”

“Except that time you tried to spy on that elf when she was making her child,” said the Simurgh.

“What? No, that sounds way worse when you say it like that. She was doing experiments, darn it! Gene splicing and stuff, it was super cool! Of course I’d want to see—” said Prose.

“Quiet!” said Kol. Everybody hushed. Kol closed her eyes. “The ticking is gone.”

The Simurgh hushed, Prose stilled. Kelser, Taoc, and Noel stared at the sundial.

And waited.

After what felt like an eternity, the sundial flattened.

It flattened until a shadow reappeared on its face. The flattened wood turned into pulp and the shadow turned into ink.

The final letter appeared in the middle of the desk. Unlike the previous letters, this one was not a secret, so everybody could read it. Prose and the Simurgh leaned forward until they almost fell out of their seats.

The letter grew larger. It kept growing and growing until it became as large as whatever it will be read on and all the characters began reading it, realizing immediately, that this was not meant for them.

They read on, anyway.