The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Randidly just stared at his grayed out double. Guilt and grief seeped into his veins, dulling his responses. For several seconds, he couldn’t move, couldn’t confirm what the negative emotion told him. His heart groaned and split in half underneath the pressure. A cold sweat began to form down his back.

In truth, he didn’t need to confirm what the clone suggested; looking into his double’s grey eyes, he knew the projection wasn’t lying about his mother. Grief squeezed him, insistent and genuine. To his great relief, the bloody tableau around him began to flake away. The troll and its meal began to disintegrate. Huge flakes of the environment just peeled away like dead skin and left him floating in a massive void. In the distance, he could see two more memories glimmering in front of him. But he couldn’t even think about moving forward.

The one memory had shaken him well enough.

Blessedly, Randidly could squeeze his eyes without hearing the flesh noises of the troll’s body moving. He stood alone with his guilt. This was another foe that he could not fight against. His hands remained at his sides. His breathing slowed.

“This was the choice I made, even if I never consciously thought through the implications… I didn’t look for her.”

He felt the emotional core floating next to him. The consciousness within it flickered. Not with sympathy, but with an echo of the same guilt. “The period of time would have been short. Just a few specific minutes, where you needed to be scanning the opening Bubble Cities for her presence. A draining task, to be sure. But it was not impossible. This was the mother that loved you as best as she could. And you didn’t even-”

“As best as she could was by occasionally mustering up the willpower to hide how much of a burden she considered me to be,” Randidly’s eyes snapped open. Once more, his emotional sea began to simmer. He glared at the grey version of himself. He obviously felt guilty, but that feeling paled in comparison to his grief. “I’m not blaming her for what happened; I will feel guilt over this for the rest of my life. But I will not wallow. Are you a reprise of self-pity?”

“Just admit this is our fault. Stop trying to escape blame,” The Grey Randidly didn’t back down either, taking a step forward. A host of those clammy hands spread out in the abyss around them, ready to try and smother Randidly’s anger.

Significance began to swirl around the duo. Witnessing the first memory had already initiated some change in this emotional core, even if Randidly didn’t understand exactly what occurred.

“This isn’t a fucking court of law.” Huge pillars of flame ripped out of his emotional sea, urging his heart to a faster and faster cadence. His Nether Core began to whirl, drawing from these sudden surges in significance. “A singular culprit is never selected. Life is messy. Why are you so insistent on making everything about us? How about narcissism? Megalomania/”

“You have earned the responsibility because you had the power to intervene. Because you are the one who always works so hard to gather the power. When you don’t use it, that’s on you.” The emotional core began to tremble. “You could have prevented her death, yet you didn’t. Do not try to deflect.”

“I am not deflecting. You are just seeking a place to deposit your own negative emotions. You seek absolution. But I know the truth; The number of deaths on Expira I could have prevented are staggering,” Randidly’s voice was raw. Frustration in his chest mounted at how stubborn and fixated this pinning blame. “Every day, their ghosts whisper to me. YOU are one of those ghosts. That’s why you are here, that’s what these cores of negative emotion are.“

“You don’t understand the first thing about me,” The negative emotion hissed. Its grey eyes darkened. “You cast me aside long ago.”

Randidly barred his teeth. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You are looking at me with mournful eyes, but I’m the one who has been struggling all this time. Mom’s death… hurts. More than I can articulate, even if we hadn’t been close in years. Yet I’ll have to carry it, won’t it? That’s just what I fucking do.”

Significance in the area began to flare erratically. Randidly sagged somewhat, when the doppelganger just glared at him. “I could have stopped her death. I’m not denying that. But I cannot dwell. No matter how exhausted I am-”

His chosen phrase cracked the abyss. Significance seethed and sparked. The blank, black expanse shattered and revealed a sea of grey waiting in the wings. The negative emotional core’s face settled back into a look of disgust. “You are right, Randidly Ghosthound. You are exhausted. You have trained ceaselessly for almost twenty years, first ignoring your humanity and then replacing it. Now avoiding it. Yet despite your best efforts, you cannot outrun all the debts you own to yourself.”

The clone’s body began to disperse, becoming a part of the chilling environment that constricted around Randidly. It was a vast, implacable grey. The voice continued to boom around him. “A part of you feels foolish for having so much difficulty going through basic tasks that were once easy to you. For needing to slow down now, especially considering your current capabilities. Capabilities that would have seemed impossible to the original you. That are impossible, by all standards. You’ve been putting off paying this debt for far, far too long. Your tank is empty, Randidly Ghosthound. That is why we emotions have risen within you.

“It is only a man of extreme privilege that believes the truth is always empowering,”

Then Randidly was alone, looking up with shock at the immense grey sea above him. Without a sound, it rushed down to drown him.

*****

With the beginning of the Hobfootie tournament only two days away, the committee in charge of arranging the event had finally judged the exhibition matches over the past few days and released the final bracket. Jawem, Devick, and Tell stood in front of the massive sign outside of Malloon, with the names of all sixty-four of the selected teams laid out on their individual line, leading to that coveted position in the middle.

All the slots being empty made it very easy to imagine any name making it to the top.

“We are the tenth seed,” Devick whispered, somewhere between gloating and shocked.

Tell scratched the back of his head. “They are settin’ us up to fail. Put higher than all eight of the ranked teams from other Aether Cities and two of Malloon’s own teams. Giving the rabble someone to cheer for… and someone to mourn, when we run into real trouble late in the tournament.”

“Tenth.” Devick put her hands against her cheeks. Her infectious enthusiasm no longer radiated outward, but seemed to only be blasting inward, scrubbing away the frantic bits of rationality she possessed and leaving instead the tireless fanaticism that had seized her ever since the Nether King asked her to do well in the tournament. Her eyes were glassy blazing.

Being rewarded for the frantic behavior she had engaged in over the last week was not good. She was practically brainwashing herself into believing her bullshit was reasonable, right in front of them.

“Face a legitimate opponent in the round of sixteen, someone from Malloon in the quarter finals,” Jawem observed, trying not to let himself be disturbed by Devick’s actions. “I suppose this is what we get for slaughtering so many chickens and spraying their blood everywhere.”

“Do ya know, I heard that some teams didn’t even complain when they weren’t included in the final bracket? After they lost to us in the exhibition game, they wanted to quit but had already submitted their names. We broke their spirit,” Tell grinned in pleasure. Maybe Jawem was wrong; the other man seemed to be falling right in with their leader’s pace.

“The Nether King will be so pleased,” Devick said dreamily.

Jawem sighed. Before their conversation could continue further, an officious-looking, scaly fish person in an embroidered robe elbowed their way through the milling crowd, all staring up at the revealed board. Based on her robe, Jawem recognized the fish person as an official representative of the Hobfootie Committee.

“Team Captain of the Miracles,” The fish person addressed Devick. “I really must insist that you indicate a home court. Due to your high seeding, it is entirely allowable for you to select the arena within Malloon-”

“There’s going to be a third court,” Devick interrupted, still sounding dreamy. “We choose that as our home field.”

“There isn’t a third court,” The fish snapped.

“There will be.” Devick smiled. Her eyes were as glazed as the sweet dough sold during a Hobfootie match.

Jawem stepped in before Devick thoughtlessly caused another problem. He offered the fish person his most charming smile. “We have it on good authority that Malloon’s Council will soon approve a third location. You’ve heard rumors about the Misplaced Islands that appeared to the South? The field is on one of those.”

The fish person spat to the side. “Fine, whatever. I’ll list you as having your imaginary court as your home base. But when the tournament starts and we schedule your first match for that location, if it’s not there- you forfeit. End of story. Enjoy the long walk home.”

Apparently, the worker didn’t find Jawem very charming. It was also a testament to how far gone Devick was that she didn’t even bat an eyelid at the pronouncement.

When the Hobfootie representative had departed, Tell looked between the still--gooey Devick and the fuming Jawem. For the second time, he rubbed his neck. “So, what are we going to do? The team won’t be happy if we get disqualified for a bullshit reason.”

“The Nether King will come through. He always does,” Devick answered in a sing-song voice.

Tell gave Jawem a look. Jawem could only shrug.

In silence, the two followed Devick back to the team’s training area. She announced to the group that they were seeded at ten, which earned much excitement and exclamations from the crew. Despite how brutally they had been exhausted over the past two weeks, since the ratcheting up of Devick’s intensity, they held no regret. Their eyes blazed bright with hope.

Tell joined the group, laughing and cheering along with the rest of them.

Jawem pressed his eyes closed. …this is going to be a long few weeks getting through the tournament. Now, I just hope the Nether King doesn’t forget about us…

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