Ideworld Chronicles: The Art Mage

As soon as my bubble of magic caught up with the Malik pretender, I grabbed him firmly by the torn fabric on his chest and turned around. “Run!” I shouted.

“Do not oppose me now,” he replied, joining in and matching my tempo. I didn’t know what he meant by that until I felt a strong, echoing Authority reach into me, trying its best to project my past back into the present.

Against my better judgment, I let it. Curiosity was hell of a drug.

Gerard, who had been chasing us through the alley that had changed into a long, enclosed toilet of impending doom, was just reaching the edge of the musical spell projected around me. His half-tentacled, half-insectoid arm pushed into the bubble when an echo of my position knocked it away. Then an echo of the other man blocked another advance from the left, throwing the clawed appendage away.

I noticed a pipe ahead of us unlatch itself from the wall and move to block us, but when it entered the bubble, we were both perfectly aware of what it would try to do. Malik slid under it, while I projected a platform under my left foot and jumped over it, rolling and continuing the run.

A wall made of sinew and muscle loomed ahead of us. This time, though, it began spreading to the sides, unspooling parts of itself and reaching toward the faucets, pipes, and walls, forming a growing web of tissue. Even with everything outside my bubble slowed down, it was still a problem. I was starting to realize I might be forced to either drop the masquerade—show them I could teleport, which might make them think it was Rhythm’s new ability or expose that I wasn’t him at all—or I’d have to kill one or both of those mages.

Neither option was good, but them thinking it wasn’t him who did all the damage was disastrous.

Plans like this had a way of crashing hard. My job was to make sure others took the hit with me.

“New approach Mr. Maybe Malik. Let’s kill the repulsive guy,” I told him and turned. I chose him over her—despite facing Robbie, he had lost again and again. And he was the one keeping us trapped in here. I did not believe in that whole immortal angle he was trying to sell. Life by very definition of itself was mortal.

I summoned the Spellbook along with the belt it was attached to, rolling over a pipe to mask its sudden appearance. I reached for the holder with my explosive cards, pulled it free, concealed it in my right hand, and dismissed the book. The entire sequence took less than a second, that was compressed even further by the temporal distortion.

“I…” he said, his face twisting into a grimace. “…Okay,” he whispered, and an echo of him appeared beneath Gerard, throwing off his maddened advance again.

“Good!” I shouted and threw one infused card backwards near where he stood.

I pivoted then and launched back toward my opponent. The music on my back shifted into Around the World, leaving clones of me behind with every movement. They lingered like statues made of light frozen mid-motion, some still in the process of turning, others half in the air trying but never allowed to reach the ground by their ephemeral yet immovable nature.

One side effect of the track change was that our opponents sped up relative to us. Another—something I hadn’t considered—was that all those clones were used by the Echo Domain master. He made his own versions of me, throwing attacks that were weaker than mine but still did damage and in the mess that I already left behind there were really difficult for opponent to discern.

Now however I was the one doing the most of the bloody work.

I weaved between lunging tentacles, slipping under them or to the side with perfect vision. It felt like a dance of avoidance. Between steps and pivots—meant to evade those biological whips of Gerard—I struck. Each motion let me pinch a card from my palm, turn it to steel, and drive it into the mass of muscle. They slid in, hopefully unnoticed, as I followed up with quick punches meant to explain the pain those cards might have caused.

At the same time, as I carried out my assault, the Echo guy followed my punches with projections of them, meant to harm the mage in front of me even further. He stayed back, closer to the end of the alley and away from the Chinese woman, who was making her approach as well. With her arms spread wide, she fed more and more Authority into the altered enclosure.

The walls began spewing water at an increasing pace, and while fighting ankle-deep in it was manageable, the rising level would soon make moving here extremely difficult.

Amid the countless clones left behind by my movement, I teleported to one of the cards I had planted in the man—one now facing upward. I appeared crouched on his body, running Ghostflame through his flesh in its original, fiery form. As he tried to catch me in that position, I slid off slightly and repeated the motion, leaving behind patches of scarred, singed meat as the blade burned. I made a few more slashes, then vaulted away from Gerard while the Echo user repeated my attacks with his projections.

I landed closer to the woman, hid the knife, and lunged toward her. She raised her arms, and the ground answered. My approach was cut short—I had to dodge pipes that burst from the ground like stalagmites. They twisted together, forming yet another barrier. And on top of that, I could’ve sworn I heard the distant whir of helicopter blades nearby.

Fuck.

Malik’s wannabe was now holding off the monstrosity Gerard had become, and I was running out of ways to handle this fight while still pretending to be just a music user.

Trying to kill him was a mistake.

“Yo! Mr. PhD!” I shouted, letting the Authority within me reach through the invisible links into the cards I’d planted in his body. He didn’t turn—hard to do without a face after turning into that mass—but he did try to respond, launching a few attacks in my direction.

Between the clones my music left behind and the ones made by echoes, I believed that my true position was impossible to track. I used that to teleport back to the card near Malik’s wannabe, turned quickly, ran ahead of him, and threw a high kick while projecting a platform right in front of us.

The attacks Gerard had launched toward both my current and previous positions never landed.

Instead along with a music change to something faster and with more bass, that entire section of the alley erupted in a violent explosion when the planted cards answered with the identity of explosives I gave them. It tore his body apart in multiple places, sending muscle, sinew, fat, skin, bone—whatever else he had left—flying through the air, along with a raging surge of water and chunks of the building itself.

And as the carnage unfolded, I made a decision I might regret later. But reality didn’t leave me much room.

I had to get out while I still could, so I summoned the Spell Book, grabbed the man by the collar and asked the world to take us out of there. Interestingly enough, he didn’t resist at all.

When the universe settled around us, we were in one of the rooms inside the building-bridge that led to Mirrored City. The same one where Alexa and the gang had paused before, when they needed a moment to recuperate. It still looked almost the same—a black hole painted over one of the windows, sofas rearranged by the boys. I’d bet the bed in the bedroom was still unmade too.

I shoved the man I brought with me onto the couch and summoned my Sword of the Rose, pointing it straight at his chest. “Coming after me like that could’ve cost me my entire operation, so be kind and explain yourself.”

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“Are you Alexa?” he asked, his tone calm in a way I hadn’t noticed before, but it was clear now. He was scared—just a bit—and different from how he usually carried himself. But I was sure of it now. The jawline matched, the nose almost too—just a bit wider, closer to Malik’s. Same with the puffier cheeks and ears. The overall shape, though, the eyes—that was him, in everything but the color. Whether his had always been that vivid green, now the right one was brown.

I sighed, removed the Authority of the mask, and with a quick motion pulled it off, revealing my face. He winced, gripping the sides of the couch.

“Kind of.”

“Kind… of?” he repeated, now in Jason’s voice. “You’re a man.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” I said. “I am a man, but also not. I’m starting to see all those bodily limits as more of a nuisance than anything. A person is more than how they look, Jason. You know that, right?”

“What?” he answered, more confused than anything, as I let go of the sword. It stayed pointed at his chest, hovering in place while I walked around the room, focusing on what I could still see through the eyes in the alley.

Gerard survived. Of course he did. He was already pulling himself back together from the mess of biological remains, and both he and the Chinese woman were searching through the wreckage now.

“I… I mean, yeah. That’s true.”

“You’re clearly not who you used to be,” I said, picking up one of my singing blades and pinching its tip between my fingers. “I get you using Malik’s powers. Though the fact that you can project other people when he couldn’t… that’s new. Calling yourself by his name, though? That part I don’t get. So go on. Explain.”

“It’s complicated. And long.”

“We’ve got time,” I said. “And I’m pretty sharp these days. Try me.”

At the same time, my other minds were already working—guiding Anansi in setting something up on a large canvas. A trap. Just in case I ended up facing the Rhythm alone after all. Something that would make his life very unpleasant if he decided to come at me again.

“Okay. But I need to be sure it’s you, Alexa. You’re… similar, but I’m not sure makeup can turn you into a man all of a sudden. You’re also much taller.”

“The last time, it was me who gave you the benefit of the doubt, taking you to Paris. I even danced with you after that stupid stunt of yours. So no, Jason, I don’t have to prove anything to you. It’s you who needs to prove to me that I shouldn’t kill you right here, right now. And you might think you have a chance, but you’re mistaken, so don’t even think about fighting your way out.”

“I didn’t,” he replied, while both of EoT’s mages gave up the search. Luckily for me, the Chinese woman suggested it might have been the other man—Jason, even if she didn’t call him by name—who teleported us out. I lost this time, but somehow still managed to fall forward. “I’ll start. I’ll tell you about Paris, and even before that.”

“Okay,” I said, leaning against the wall. With a thought, I let the sword fly away and bury itself into the table in front of him.

“When I touched the soul core in Malik’s Domain, I was taken into a trial. I made it through, even though it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was about facing my past and how I see myself—how I echo into the world, how I reflect what’s thrown at me, and how I twist it. At the end, I faced the guardian of that place. It was Malik’s shadow, still within the core, waiting for someone to join him before he left.”

“And you did.”

“Yes. But he wasn’t alone there.”

“What?”

“There was another soul in the soul realm, inside Malik’s core. When he died, he wished for his love to stay—to be given another chance—and his Domain answered in those final moments. His Authority was so strong that instead of passing on to wherever we go when we die, his soul returned to the core and waited there.”

“So you absorbed his memories or something?”

“No. We talked, briefly. He and his Shadow realized all three of us suffered the same kind of stupid fate. We were incomplete, just in different ways. He echoed the image of his older brother—the hero in his mind—trying to become what he thought that meant. That was his strength, how he built himself, but it also made him flawed. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t survive in the real world. And me…” he paused, “I reflected what others wanted to see, while staying empty inside. I couldn’t find my own shape. I wasn’t any more real than he was.”

“He became a distorted echo by choice, and you stayed a mirror by choice?”

“Yes. I was what others projected onto me. He accepted being an echo and pushed those flawed ideals onto the world. So he asked me… if it would be okay for him to join me. If our souls could merge.”

“What?”

“Yes. My Shadow’s soul stayed in the core… and Malik’s is here, with mine.” He pointed at his exposed chest.

“This could explain why you look a bit like him now, and talk like him from time to time.”

“No, it’s more complicated. This body is still fully mine, you know?” I nodded. “It just changes now. I feel like I’ve got mirrors under my skin sometimes, and they reflect what I feel about myself back into the world. And because our souls finally merged, this is what I look like.”

“But you didn’t look like that in Paris.”

“Exactly. Back then, I didn’t want to talk about it, because Malik’s soul was stronger than mine. He had more Authority within himself, and I felt like if any of you noticed who I was, he’d overwhelm me and I’d end up as just a smaller part. And I needed that balance.”

“Did you find it?”

“Yes, I did. I needed those few weeks to get through Malik’s and my experiences and memories—our beliefs, quirks, all of it—to merge properly. And now we’re one. Fully.”

“How does it work exactly? Why do you speak like yourself now?”

“Because it’s easier to explain it from my perspective. I didn’t die in your eyes, so it’s easier for you to accept that it was Jason who took in Malik’s soul. ’Cause that ain’t Malik who fought his way into that champ, right?” His mannerisms shifted on a whim. His body relaxed into that familiar posture—arms spread wider, legs apart, shoulders loose, chin slightly raised. “That’d be too much upfront, wouldn’t it, Usagi?”

“So you’ve got, what, two voices in your head now?” I asked, caught off guard.

“No, it ain’t like that. The voice is one, but it come with two lives’ worth of experience. I’m both Malik and Jason—and neither of them now. Our souls merged. We’re just one.”

“Then why does your mannerism change?”

“It’s instinct. When something feels more familiar to him, his experience takes over. When it’s closer to what Jason faced, Jason’s side speaks through.”

“That’s… definitely not what I expected. Is that why you wanted to meet Robbie? To reconcile with him?”

“Yes. Malik’s feelings—our feelings—are clear on that. We don’t hold it against him. That’s why, when I saw you looking like that, I needed to talk to you.”

“We’re not seeing eye to eye on this, Malik… Jason. What am I even supposed to call you?”

“We decided on Mason Smith. And our hero name is Re?:Yes!”

I facepalmed.

“Listen, Mason,” I said after a longer pause, “I’ve been doing everything in my power to turn EoT against your brother, so they can finish him off. You might think—” I raised a hand, cutting him off before he could interrupt, “—that he’s redeemable. I fought him, and it cost me my leg. He’s a bitter man, lost to his demons. I won’t stop until I put him in the ground for killing you and for what he did to me.”

“I… understand that,” he said, and that alone surprised me. “That’s how you’re wired. But Jason and Malik—we weren’t killers at heart. We see it differently. So what I’m asking for is just a chance to talk to him, if it ever comes to that.”

“What do you expect? That I’ll just teleport you in when he shows his face?” I shook my head. “I’m setting things up so Edge of Tomorrow can drag him out and erase him for good. Their moves are already pulled by my strings. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll handle it myself. I’m not putting you in front of him just so you can die too—especially now, when you’re already linked to him because of that stupid stakeout.”

“That’s exactly what I expected, if that is possible, you know?”

“Malik, man.” I tried to speak directly to the one responsible for that madness—if that was really what was happening here, and it wasn’t some delusion playing out in Jason’s head. “Your brother killed you. It wasn’t some punch-and-go altercation between brothers. This wasn’t an argument. He straight-up murdered your ass in the middle of a busy street, and you want to put Jason’s… body on the line too, now?”

“I…” he started, and his eyes really did look like the boy’s. With all the changes to the Domain and how erratic Jason’s behavior had been, I was inclined to believe their story. “Do you think that’s really impossible, Alexa?”

“No, I don’t think that’s impossible. I think it’s unwise,” I replied, feeling deep down that it was my own response, not something Alexandra would approve of. “You are endangering yourself—both of you—me, and Reality-only-knows who else in this.”

“But you do think there’s a chance?”

“I think that within each of us there’s a seed that can grow into a will to change. Sometimes all it needs to sprout are our own tears, blood, or sweat. But there are cases where that effort has to come from the outside. Your brother might be one of those.”

“Really?”

“I held your memories, and like I said, I fought him. In both cases, I saw glimpses of love he has for you. I personally think it’s not enough, that he’s too far gone to turn back. But I’ve been wrong before, so do what you have to do. Just know the hope here is razor-thin—and just as sharp. You might end up cutting yourself on it.”

His eyes widened, and he stood up, looking me straight in the eyes. My sword rose and turned in the air, its tip aimed at him.

“Does that mean you’re going to help me?” he asked, clutching a fist to his chest.

“No. If you find him first, you’re free to do whatever you want. If what you’re saying about that soul union is true, Jason knows what he’s risking, and so do you. But I’m sticking to my plan. I will kill him for what he’s done to me—and to Malik. Because whether your union is real or not, it’s clear to me that the boy who fought alongside me is dead and gone.”