The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

His surroundings oozed into place like cold syrup, but even once they settled they sometimes wobbled underneath the weight of his attention or some subconscious impulse. Everything was made of jelly

Randidly sat in a dark room. He rubbed the worn dinosaur comforter atop him between his thumb and forefinger, almost in awe of how realistic the cotton sensation on his fingers was even as the walls swayed. He also knew that the swirling world he occupied was a dream, but he still couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation.

So now what, Fatepiece? Randidly thought as he stared up at the rippling ceiling.

A loud laugh drifted in from the other room and Randidly couldn’t help but shiver. That laugh was so achingly reminiscent of his childhood that he couldn’t help but clench his teeth. Something woke up in his chest and urged him to cover himself with the blanket. But he sat up in his bed, suddenly aware that the bed he laid upon was stretched to a comically large size, so that it filled up almost the entire room.

Opposite the bed was the door leading to the rest of the house, which shuddered whenever that shrill laughter echoed out from the other side. Other than that, the only other feature of the room was a window with the curtains drawn.

Randidly’s body felt miniature and feeble as he crawled across the bed toward the window. He kept tumbling over his own hands and falling into the plush mattress. The bed was practically a sea unto itself, full of blanket waves and wild currents. Whenever he stopped moving, he sunk into the bed, his childhood comforter becoming a binding layer that kept him from escaping.

Yet as always, the laugh boomed out through the door. Randidly felt something bleeding near his heart that had rubbed itself raw from that noise.

His heartbeat accelerated and he felt himself panic, but that sense of fear shook the last of the sleepiness from Randidly’s mind. Even in the dream world, he could marshall his significance Willpower as he observed the bed around him. Randidly couldn’t help but be shocked by how powerful his emotional reaction to the dream was.

Perhaps, that’s why it is worth coming here? Randidly thought as he tried to soothe his aching heart. Still, he wasn’t just going to sit here and torture himself like this. Not with this memory. He raised his tiny hand and grasped, preparing to tear the bed-

“Keep it down in there honey! Mom has a guest.” The shrill voice seemed to speak from directly behind the child Randidly, causing him to flinch and twist around. Someone jabbed a thumb into the oozing emotional sore. But there was nothing behind him but the blanket; he was completely alone in this room.

The door rattled with the woman’s shrill laughter.

This fucking Fatepiece… His expression furious, Randidly finished the trek across the bed and pushed himself off the wobbling piece of furniture. To his annoyance, the bed was taller than he was, so he had to move in its shadow as he walked over to the window. His frown deepened when he saw that someone had messily nailed the curtains to the wall. He tugged on the material, but his small hands were strong enough to rip it.

He pressed his hands up against the nails, feeling the cool circles of their heads. Weirdly, that coolness helped dampen his instinctual panic.

If this exit is blocked, that only leaves the door. Randidly used his tiny legs to carry himself to the high wooden door. The closer he came to it, the more the woman on the other side laughed and the more the doorknob jittered up and down. The sides of the door frame flexed in and out like it was breathing. There was a madness in the woman’s voice that preyed on something in Randidly’s chest, but he had come a long way from being scared of his distant past.

No matter what… Randidly stood on his tiptoes to reach the doorknob. The metal was warm to his fingers. I hope you are still alive, mom.

Despite himself, Randidly was still somewhat nervous about what he would see when he whipped open the door. He desperately hoped that his subconscious wouldn’t be too accurate concerning what his mom did with those guests she invited over. But to his relief, he opened the door and it led to a howling void. Glad to be out of here, he hopped off into the darkness.

His consciousness turned blurry as the dream transitioned from one place to another. For a brief moment, he was back in that bed, freezing cold even with the comforter wrapped around him. Then the shrill laughter was deafening and his heart wrung blood out of itself in its haste to make itself as small as possible. Then he continued to tumble through the darkness, twisting slowly mid-air.

The blankets around him vanished. He was drifting-

And then suddenly, he was standing in a sunny room. He looked down at his hands; they were the proper size, but his left arm was made of flesh and blood. He looked over at the table in the center of the room, where three figures sat. The Grey Creature nodded to Randidly. The shadowy form of the Stillborn Phoenix pulsed in greeting. A vibrant tree that could only be Yggdrasil creaked and groaned as it waved a branch.

Randidly tilted his head to the side. To his surprise, everything looked solid. “What… is this?”

“An intervention,” The Grey Creature said softly. Randidly wasn’t sure what to make of the Stillborn Phoenix’s resulting pulse, but Yggdrasil clearly nodded with its verdant canopy.

“Why do I need an intervention?” Randidly was bewildered as he stared at his images.

The spectral tail extending from the base of the Grey Creature’s neck flicked back and forth. “Because you are distracted and missing the truth. Didn’t you feel it, when the Stillborn Phoenix and I peered into the future? You have an opportunity here, with Claudette’s image. Although we weren’t able to determine the details… we clearly sensed that she was the key to the revenge against Wick. At least to getting the revenge quickly. Forge her into a sword. Do not miss this opportunity.”

Suddenly Claudette was lying in the middle of the table. Her blonde hair glittered in the warm rays of the sun. The Stillborn Phoenix stretched out two tentacles of darkness that vaguely resembled wings and began to fold Claudette’s human body back on itself. Her joints pivoted and twisted. Soon, a pale blue sword lay on the table, breathing out a creeping layer of frost.

“But…” Randidly’s heart was pounding. He looked now at the sword version of Claudette and felt so clearly how to use his own experience with loneliness and abandonment to sharpen her image into something deadly. Yet Randidly couldn’t help but hesitate.

But if I truly alter her image like that, what will happen to Claudette?

The Grey Creature shook his head and then pointed. “Look, there. Do you see it? This is your only chance.”

The room folded open, just like Claudette had folded closed into a sword. In a shadowy corner Randidly hadn’t noticed before, a burly, furry man sat on a wooden chair. His hands were tied behind him and his face was covered with a rough cloth bag. Despite his restraints, the man held himself with a ramrod-straight spine. Randidly stood before that man and held the Claudette sword tightly between his fleshy hands.

“Stab him,” A voice whispered to Randidly. “Avenge Helen. Slaughter your enemies. Using any weapon at your disposal.”

Something crawled out from the wound his mother’s laughter had made in his heart. It was scaled and vicious and it stank of madness.

Before Randidly could figure out how to respond, the dream broke; the twelve hours were up. His awareness slowly came back to himself. He still floated bodily at the edge of the field of talons, his mind quickly focusing to its peak state after a long rest. But although he was mentally recuperated, the fading memories of the dream left Randidly emotionally drained.

His heart still ached. Those poignant emotions still lingered.

Is that true? Did we have that insight? That Claudette was the key? Randidly asked his images when he had recovered all his faculties. Their response was mixed. Truly the Grey Creature had sensed that Claudette would help him get revenge against Wick, but just as important was Randidly improving his Nether Core to the next Rarity. The Stillborn Phoenix corroborated those facts, as well as any tenuous insight into the future could be.

Still, the possibility that Claudette could become a weapon that would wound Commandant Wick sorely tempted him. He almost hated himself for how much he wanted to throw everything aside and focus on that. His grief and self-loathing and fury began to heat back up quickly, urging him to weaponize her and damn the consequences. Randidly hissed to himself, steadying his emotions.

No. This is about helping Claudette with her problems. This was an agreement that she has already paid for. I can’t just take advantage of the control I have and use her for my own ends. Let’s just… work on the image.

Randidly forced his mind away from the possibility and focused on the image. He dedicated himself to deepening the history of the Lizakh. He created their paths between settlements and allowed them then to be worn away by the passage of time. He made the world of Claudette’s image as inhospitable and abandoned as possible. He incorporated a bit of that emotional memory of being alone in his room to the vast world.

Even if he didn’t completely embrace that loneliness, Randidly reflected on how he felt, lying in that bed, and incorporate notes into the surroundings.

For the moment, he still stayed out of the core area. Obviously, he couldn’t yet be trusted to behave responsibly with Claudette’s image. In the meantime, he began to draw the history of the final mission to save the planet, as the Lizakh created an expedition to the frozen North, led by D’min and Yn’ulk.

The ache in his heart didn’t just vanish. If anything, his current conflict worsened his emotional turmoil. Randidly knew that the real reason that he had been able to resist the impulse to make use of Claudette was the vast guilt that Helen’s death left with him. A deep whirlpool tugged at him constantly; as long as Commandant Wick remained unpunished, some of his energy would be devoured by his previous failure.

If he were to weaponize Claudette now… Well, Randidly didn’t need another reason to feel like all his training efforts amounted to nothing.

So he continued to refine Claudette’s image, one tiny detail at a time. The process felt slightly listless. Not that he didn’t care deeply about each change he made; he was very purposeful about what he adjusted. But there was a spark of life missing to Randidly’s image refinement. He couldn’t quite capture the sort of epiphany that he employed to such great effect when he worked on his own images. The pain in his chest added the slightest hesitation to his work that he couldn’t eliminate just by wishing.

Congratulations! Your Skill Grand Perspective (R) has grown to Level 175!

Is it because I’m working on someone else's image? Or perhaps because Claudette is unconscious? The slight difficulty in finding the final image for Claudette steadily added up to a knot of tension within him that he really didn’t need. After hesitating for a second, Randidly ignored the sense of difficulty and continued to sharpen details.

Just like the texts said, this is work. Randidly tried to reassure himself. Fabricating images, creating… there is a certain freedom to it, yes. And in those moments where your own images blossom… nothing can compare to that feeling. But at the end of the day, I was hired by Claudette to accomplish a task. I need to focus on that.

Congratulations! Your Skill Absolute Timing (Ru) has grown to Level 203!

Further internal arguments were interrupted by the end of Randidly’s work period. As before, his mental energies spun inward into a tight seed. His consciousness grew foggy and he sank into the realm of deep dreams.

The images this time were much more fractured than his previous experience. He swam through a frigid sea, suddenly restored his ability to sense cold. Above him, a boat sailed past, but Randidly could suppress his shivers long enough to call out for help. His bones rattled with the intensity of his shivers.

Then he was floating in the Shaft, looking down into the depths. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something hungry looked back up at him. A horrible dread crawled up the back of his throat and sealed his mouth shut. He could only watch and wake.

His heart whimpered. Fear and the cloying sense of powerlessness he remembered from his childhood smothered Randidly.

Then he was on his skyisland above Kharon, moonlight spirits spiraling around him. Randidly instantly tensed, looking around warily. All his thoughts about chill and loneliness clearly had a profoundly negative effect on his dreams. But as time passed and he simply remained sitting on the edge of his island with the silver spirits drifting around him, he gradually relaxed.

With this brief respite, the knot of tension he carried had the chance to ease. He stretched out his arms and leaned back, then paused as his hand brushed up against something. Straightening, he pulled the Visage of Obsession in front of him and glanced down at it.

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