The Second Stranger

Your name?

You’ve forgotten it. But, you knew that would happen. You still remember your job. Chronicler.

Here, in this box, this prison, names are as fleeting as a match’s flame.

You remember nothing of how you got here, only that your purpose is singular: to record the last words of gods and legends.

And now, you find yourself face to face with a restrained old man.

A chair sits in the middle of the black prism-like room. Black chains wrap around the wrinkled man, gray hair dangles in front of his eyes, and a cocky smile peaks beneath.

“I am Erik the Great,” he begins, voice scraping across the obsidian walls. “Breaker of celestial courts, pantheons, and messiahs. Inheritor to Alexander’s will. You’ve heard of me, or maybe you haven’t. But, that doesn’t matter now.”

Your tendrils of memory unfurl towards him. Three small tentacles pulsing purple outstretch from your palm, snaking through the air like living things. They push past his swaying gray hair and clutch onto the prisoner’s face. You flinch as they touch him. A cold rush of thoughts flood you, but they do not overwhelm. Your training, forgotten, but still ingrained, bats the invasive thoughts away. You invite yourself deep into his mind. He invites you deeper, whispering the secrets of a Godkiller.

“What matters,” Erik continues, his tone now laced with dark amusement, “is that I am a prisoner—bound beyond the edges of time, space, and reality itself. Sentenced to an execution so final that not even your Creators dare witness it.”

The words hang in the air. He looks deep into your eyes, past the pulsing tentacles. Eyes burning red with hatred. You want to ask questions, to interrogate him, yet you are here to listen. To record. It’s your duty, after all. You set your tool down, a large blank book, on your lap as the secrets from the tendrils fill the pages.

The Chronicle of the End uses no ink to tell its story. The book’s pages flow with words carved from memory, burned from the honest source of the interrogated. Carved into the everlasting tome.

“Why am I a prisoner?” Erik asks, and though you know it’s rhetorical, the question lingers in your mind.

“Officially, because I broke Fate.”

The tendrils pulse with each word, pulling you deeper into his story. Words scorched onto the page of the blank book on your lap.

“Unofficially, because a human from a backwater planet should have never lived to gain celestial-shattering power.” He pauses for his own dramatic tendencies.

“But, if you ask me?” he continues. “It’s because my little brother never learned to let go of a grudge.”

The tendrils’ pulse quickens, pulling you deeper into his story. His truth. Your vision flickers as you dive deep into the prisoner’s consciousness. Instinctively, you try to resist as you always do, but there’s no escape. The Chronicle of the End needs its story, and Erik’s must be told.

“I’ll tell you everything, every detail. After all, I’ve conquered the old gods, toppled empires, and stopped the flow of Fate itself. What’s left, but to carve my name into your mind, to burn my story into your soul and the pages of that book?”

“Don’t worry,” Erik says, his voice echoing in the infinite darkness, “I’ve got all the time in the world. And so do you.”

50 Years Ago

I pushed through the drunk crowds and through the doors of Sarah’s “Late Eats”, cursing to myself as the annoyingly loud college kids blocked my path.

Sweat dripped from my forehead, catching itself in the long hairs of my beard as I moved. I checked the large light-up clock that hung in the diner and frowned.

—12:15. Late again, Erik, you idiot.

“Damn it,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. The dining area buzzed with the usual Friday night crowd of students, filling their booze-lined stomachs with greasy burgers, hash browns, and other fatty foods.

Sarah, the owner, spotted me from across the room. Her face twisted into a scowl as she marched over, her heels clicking against the tile floor.

“Erik! This is the third time this week, you need to—”. A loud crash from the kitchen cut her off mid-sentence.

Pots and pans clattered to the floor, followed by a string of curses from who I could only assume was Mike. Sarah’s face turned an impressive shade of red.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. “Just... get to work. Now.”

I nodded and hurried past her towards the kitchen. She grabbed my arm.

“Hey, we’re having a talk after your shift. Don’t sneak out again.”

I clenched my jaw, dug my fingernails into the skin on my thumb, and forced a nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

—I’m definitely sneaking out. I thought to myself.

I grabbed an apron from the hangers outside the kitchen and quickly tied it on, heading past the swinging doors. Grease sizzled on the flattop. The sweet smell of waffles drifted by my nose, and my coworkers darted back and forth like pinballs.

I squeezed between two coworkers, feeling their glares burn into my back. Even with five cooks, Sarah’s place usually needed about eight to keep up with the online orders and the mass of 20-something-year-olds stumbling in from bars. I looked up above the grill and eyed the receipts flapping like a hundred flags.

—Why the hell are we so busy on a Wednesday?

I grabbed a knife and a cutting board and jumped into prep work. Vegetables lined up as I chopped with practiced efficiency. Heavy shuffling and a barrage of curses alerted me to Mike squeezing himself beside me.

“Move over, you greasy fuck,” Mike barked at one of the line cooks, who returned an insult about Mike’s freakish height. “Jesus, Erik. You look like you died twice and pulled three all-nighters,” Mike grunted.

I jabbed my elbow into his side while focusing on dicing vegetables. “Wow! Thanks, buddy, only three all-nighters? I must be getting great beauty rest.”

He snorted, tossing seasoning into a bowl of raw meat. “Seriously, man, rough day?”

I sighed, my knife pausing mid-chop. “Just the usual. Double shift at the warehouse, then straight here.”

Mike whistled low. “And the kid?”

“Noah’s fine. Staying late at school for some project…supposedly.”

“Erik, bro. You’re too young to be taking care of a teenager. How much sleep are you really getting?”

I shrugged, resuming my veggie massacre. “Sleep’s overrated.”

“Not for a 25-year-old. You still need sleep to stay healthy.”

I ignored him and dropped the diced vegetables into a large silver bowl. I pushed the bowl down the line to the other cooks.

“The sleep can wait, Mike. I need the money,” I admitted, my voice low. “I also picked up a weekend gig doing basic inventory stuff for the library. It’s not much, but every bit helps.”

Mike tilted his head towards me and raised his eyebrows. “Three jobs? Erik, that’s insane.”

I shrugged. “It’s worth it. I’m almost there, you know? Just a few more months and I’ll have enough saved for Noah’s college tuition.”

“That’s great for your little bro, but, man...” Mike paused, and he slid the bowl of burger meat between us. “Don’t you think it’s time you started living your own life?”

I put on new gloves and grabbed a baking sheet from below. “What do you mean?”

Mike sighed and started forming patties. “I mean, you’re killing yourself for your brother. And that’s admirable, it is. But, when was the last time you did something for yourself? Had a night out? Went on a date? You were going to take that archeology apprenticeship.”

I felt my jaw clench. I tried to dig my nail into my skin, but the rubber gloves blocked it. “Noah’s all I’ve got, Mike. He needs me. As soon as he’s in college and has all the money he needs to start his life, I’ll start mine.”

“I get that, but don’t they make like scholarships or something for his situation? Like can’t you—”

“Where are my burgers?!” Sarah’s shout interrupted us. I was grateful for the conversation to end there. Explaining my financial situation wasn’t my favorite thing to do.

—He’s right. I need some fucking sleep. Thank God I don’t have work tomorrow. My body is aching. Why the hell did so many heavy shipments come in today? My arms feel like they are going to fall off.

The windows in the kitchen lightened as the sun rose. Customers finally stopped ordering. One last college kid stumbled out, leaving behind a mess of syrup and scattered napkins.

The large light-up clock read 9 AM, the end of my shift. I peeled off my greasy apron and tossed it in the laundry bin. Sarah was busy counting the register, so I headed towards the back exit for a quick escape from the scolding she promised.

“Later, Erik,” Mike called out as he scrubbed down the grill. “Remember what I said. You gotta live, man. Do what you wanna do.”

I waved goodbye to my coworkers and hurried out the back door. The crisp morning air hit my face. I took a deep breath before hopping on my bike and heading home.

I cursed and dodged the Thursday morning commuters, pushing my aching muscles to keep moving. As I got closer to our apartment, I cut through the park, hoping to shave a few minutes off.

That’s when I saw them. A group of teenagers lounging on the grass. My frown grew as I recognized one of them.

—Oh, you little fucker…Noah!

My bike squealed as I press on the brakes and nearly toppled over. Disappointment surged through me as I watched my little brother, the kid I’m busting my ass every day for, sitting there without a care in the world. He was supposed to be in school.

—All of them should be in school, but I couldn’t care less about the others. Only Noah.

I wanted to march over there, to drag him home by the ear like Mom did to me when I messed up. Instead, I yelled.

“Noah, what the FUCK are you doing?” I let the bike down slowly. I didn’t need my only mode of transportation breaking on me.

“Great,” he complained to his friends. Noah stood up and walked towards me. “Go home, Erik. Why do you even care what I’m doing?” Noah spat at the ground.

“Are you kidding me?” I felt my voice rising, and days of pent-up frustration poured out. “I ask you for one thing. Go to school. That’s it!”

Noah laughed mockingly and dug his hands into his pocket, pulling out a small black box. “Why don’t you smoke a joint and chill with us? You’re not our parents. You aren’t in charge of me. So, stop trying to act like them. Hell, enjoy life and stop being such a pain in the ass. We have no one to tell us what to do.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

We always had our differences, especially since the accident, but I’m trying to help him. “They wouldn’t have wanted you to end up a high-school dropout. I’m trying to give you the chances they can’t anymore. Do you even know how much I work for you?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want those chances.” Noah turned his back to me. “Did you ever think about that? Or were you too busy playing martyr to ask me what I want?”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “This isn’t about what you want right now. It’s about your future and the opportunities you’ll want.”

“My future? Or the future you think I should have? You do not know what kind of future I have planned.” He walked back to his group of friends and grabbed his backpack.

“You’re just a teenager. A senior at that. They won’t let you graduate if you don’t at least go to class.” I took a step, wanting to reach out and shake some sense into him. “You don’t know what’s good for you. Don’t be an idiot!”

Noah twisted his body and charged up to me. He threw a quick punch into my gut.

I didn’t flinch, but it still hurt. His fist hit against the hard stomach I had developed through years of labor.

—How many times has he struck me now? How many times has he yelled at me since they died? I thought.

Noah scowled and walked away from me again. “Give me a break. An idiot? Me? You have NO clue who I even am these days. You’re never home. I bet you don’t even know what I’ve been doing these past few months.”

I looked at him, confused. “What have you been doing? Just how much school are you missing to slack off?”

“Slack off…that’s funny. Anyway, you’ll probably find out soon enough as I’ll be long gone and out of your psychotic hair.” He walked back to his friends, picked up his backpack, and waved to them.

“I’m out, guys,” He said to his group, friends of his who I’ve known for years. But, since the accident, they have been cold to me. Like Noah.

“What do you mean by that? Noah? Noah!” I yelled, but he ignored me. He hopped on his bike and pedaled away fast.

—I’ll make this right. He needs to get to school, and I'm sure I can calm him down. He'll thank me one day.

I let out a sigh and waved his friends away. “It’s no big deal. He’s just upset I embarrassed him.”

“No one said anything,” a tall, skinny girl said dismissively.

—I’m a monster in all of their eyes. The killer of my parents, their friend’s parents. No matter what the accident report says, I am still the monster who changed their friend.

I shook my head, went back, and picked up my bike. Noah’s friends were whispering to each other. I pedaled home, my legs burning with each push. The argument with Noah replayed in my mind, his words cutting deeper with each repetition.

—I’ve accepted the blame on my part…but it still hurts so much. Can’t he see that?

As I approached our apartment building, I spotted Noah’s backpack discarded near the entrance. He’d beaten me home.

—Why would he just leave this outside? I wondered.

I picked up his backpack and slung it over my shoulder. Once inside and on the stairs, I heard a door creak open behind me. Mr. Grayson, our landlord, emerged from his first-floor office.

“Erik,” he called out, his voice gruff. “Hold on just one minute.”

I turned, suppressing a groan. “Mr. Grayson, what can I do for you?”

He crossed his arms, frowning. “You can pay me. That’s what you can do. Rent’s due. You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” I said, running a hand through my hair and looking away from the stern old man. “I get paid at the end of the week. Can I bring it to you on Friday?”

Mr. Grayson’s frown deepened. “That’s what you said last month. I’ve got bills to pay on time too, you know.”

I sighed, reaching into my pocket. “Look, this is all I’ve got right now.” I pulled out a small wad of cash, mostly ones and fives, and a couple of twenties. “It should be $114. I’ll get you the rest on Friday, I

promise.”

He eyed the money, then snatched it from my hand. “Fine. But, I want the rest first thing Friday morning, or we’re gonna have problems. Understood?” He backed into his room, pocketing the cash.

I nodded, relief washing over me. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

I stomped up the stairs, my body aching from exhaustion, and approached our apartment door. I heard muffled voices coming from inside. Noah’s voice rose above the others, muttering something I couldn’t quite make out.

—What the hell? Did he have other friends hanging out here too?

Irritation flared in my chest again. I was going to smooth things over with him, but this was just spitting in my face. I jiggled the doorknob. Locked.

As I fumbled with my keys, I called out to my brother. “Noah, I told you that you need to go to school. You can’t be hanging out with your friends all day!” I unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I’m serious, dude. Get yourself together…”

The words died in my throat as I stepped inside. Noah stood alone in the middle of our cramped living room, but that wasn’t what made me freeze. Behind him, taking up nearly half the room, was a massive swirling black vortex. The floorboards shook and the sound of wind rushed past my ears and out the door behind me. Noah looked over his shoulder at me, a strange smile playing on his lips.

—Why is he smiling? What is that thing?

Before I could process what I was seeing, Noah looked towards the black hole in our living room.

“I accept!” He yelled and stepped into the void.

“Noah, wait!” I shouted, but it was too late. His body disappeared into the darkness.

Without thinking, I lunged forward. My mind screamed that this was insane, impossible, but my body moved independently. I couldn’t let Noah disappear. Not like this. Not after what just happened.

—Don’t you know I care?

As I dove into the vortex, I felt an intense pulling sensation. The world dissolved into chaos, pulling me away into the unknown.

“You are not supposed to follow,” a voice called out far beyond the dark.