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Speaker 1: Imagicum.

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Speaker 1: Chapter Three: Liquid Reality.

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Speaker 1: Shale slid along the outside of the
cabin, using the wall to brace himself. He was

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Speaker 1: losing his balance, shaking
uncontrollably. It didn't matter what was
inside. What

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Speaker 1: was outside was already killing him.
He couldn't be killed twice. However,

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Speaker 1: given the power at play here, perhaps
that was not a safe assumption. Still, he slid

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Speaker 1: toward the front door. Despite his
bravado, the first thing he saw did little to

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Speaker 1: encourage another step. Another body
on the wood floor of the cabin. A woman from

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Speaker 1: the look of it, dressed in mage's
robes as well. Had the other party beaten him

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Speaker 1: here after all? Were those their
bodies outside? No,

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Speaker 1: the other expedition didn't have
children. Whatever that was, it was a

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Speaker 1: separate, much older crime. This body
was fresh. A stream of blood

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Speaker 1: ran from her stump of an arm. He
couldn't see the severed hand from where he
leaned

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Speaker 1: against the outside of the doorway. A
case had been turned over next to her. Yarn

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Speaker 1: and sewing implements were spilled
out onto the ground. The case was painted with a

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Speaker 1: symbol he recognized, the Guild of
Enchanting, more specifically, the

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Speaker 1: Craft of Weaving. A weaver. A weaver
had beaten

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Speaker 1: him here? Arts and crafts magic? No,

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Speaker 1: that wasn't possible. Shale was a
third brand, a suppressor. He

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Speaker 1: could not have been beaten by, by
this seamstress. He crept

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Speaker 1: closer to the door, trying and likely
failing to remain concealed for as long as

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Speaker 1: possible. Perhaps the weaver had
gotten here first, but it hadn't done her a lot
of

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Speaker 1: good. Well, that was what happened
when you sent a seamstress to do a suppressor's

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Speaker 1: job. He poked his head around the
corner. It was a one-room cabin.

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Speaker 1: The fireplace crackled with fresh
logs on the fire. Whoever had killed her hadn't

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Speaker 1: been in a hurry to drag her out to
the pile with the others. Shale took a deep

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Speaker 1: breath. He stepped through the
threshold and nothing happened.

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Speaker 1: It was just a cabin. Someone coughed
nearby. He spun around to face

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Speaker 1: the sound, heart pounding, eyes
darting. Shale's eyes fell on the

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Speaker 1: most unlikely sight. He'd expected to
find a living god,

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Speaker 1: and instead he found a scrawny,
dazed-looking man twenty years his

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Speaker 1: senior. The man watched Shale through
half-lidded eyes, a dull,

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Speaker 1: pacified smile on his face. The look
of a drunkard, with not many

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Speaker 1: drinks between him and the grave at
that.

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Speaker 1: Visitors. More visitors. Shale

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Speaker 1: looked around, prepared for an
ambush, but there was simply nowhere for anyone
to

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Speaker 1: hide. This really was just a simple
cabin with a stupefied man inside.

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Speaker 1: The man was sitting up in his bed,
cradling something small to his chest. Shale

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Speaker 1: walked cautiously to stand over him.
Upon closer inspection, he could easily kill

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Speaker 1: this person. He didn't even need to
use magic. Even the weaver probably could have

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Speaker 1: managed that task, which gave him
some pause. Who are you?

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Speaker 1: The man returned a wild, toothy
smile. I have been a thousand

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Speaker 1: people. Most recently, I was a king,
a tyrant.

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Speaker 1: My armies ruled with an iron fist,
until the stick men toppled my

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Speaker 1: empire. He smiled again and shook his
head slowly. This

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Speaker 1: smile was much warmer, as if the
toppling of his make-believe empire were all
part

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Speaker 1: of some game, and though he'd lost
the round, he was a good sport about it.

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Speaker 1: Shale looked at the crazed man's
nightstand. Ants covered a half-eaten biscuit

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Speaker 1: there. Some of them had been
scattered and crushed beneath a twig. Nothing
about

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Speaker 1: this made any sense. Had he come all
this way to chat with a lunatic?

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Speaker 1: Were they deceived somehow? Shale had
been so quick to expend the lives of

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Speaker 1: his guild members. Even the unguilded
were still people. Their lives were worth

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Speaker 1: something after all. But it wasn't
just him. In the two weeks that Shale and his

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Speaker 1: party had traveled to the Source
Anomaly, the vessels had four years to
deliberate.

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Speaker 1: Such was the power of their magic.
Even their vast wisdom had been foiled by this,

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Speaker 1: this... Who are you? Then the man
revealed what

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Speaker 1: he'd been clutching, a vial of
shimmering white liquid, almost like the

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Speaker 1: color of a soul as seen from the
Aether. No,

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Speaker 1: exactly like the color of a soul.
Shale stared into the vial and felt as

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Speaker 1: if he were falling. It was like
looking through a hole in reality. When he moved
his

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Speaker 1: head, the colors seemed to shift
along with him. It was impossible. If

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Speaker 1: impossible could be made liquid, this
was it. The man started to

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Speaker 1: uncork the vial, and Shale knew if
that happened, he was a dead man, just another

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Speaker 1: body on the floor, just another body
for the pile. On instinct, he stepped into his

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Speaker 1: second self. It was a huge mistake.
The anomaly was so bright, so close,

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Speaker 1: it nearly tore his soul apart. Still,
he lashed out with one arm like a child

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Speaker 1: swinging in a tantrum. Then he cast
his mind back into his first self before he

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Speaker 1: could be destroyed. Shale gasped. The
pain of frostbite had been nothing

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Speaker 1: compared to this. This was soul burn
unlike anything he'd felt before. It

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Speaker 1: was the pain he caused when he used
his magic. It was the very method by which his

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Speaker 1: magic worked. He fought to stay
conscious, to stay standing. Ow,

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Speaker 1: you hurt me. Shale fell to his knees.
Everything burned,

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Speaker 1: and yet there was no source of the
pain. Through watering eyes, he saw the man sit

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Speaker 1: up in bed, the look of stupor gone
from his face. Apparently, his blow had only

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Speaker 1: succeeded in angering the man.
Another mage. Then he

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Speaker 1: calmed a little and cast the bed
covers off him, still holding that vial of
liquid

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Speaker 1: impossible in his other hand. Good,
good. That's good. You're

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00:08:02,652 --> 00:08:08,612
Speaker 1: worth a hundred of those other
worthless people. Shale began to rise. He wished
he'd

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Speaker 1: had a weapon, a physical weapon. He'd
grown so used to always being armed that

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Speaker 1: he hadn't needed one. It had become a
mark of pride to walk unarmed, a show of force

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Speaker 1: even. The mage so powerful he did not
need to be armed.

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Speaker 1: Conceit beyond reason, and now it was
going to kill him.

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Speaker 1: May the vessels forgive his
foolishness. Hopefully when River saw those
bodies, she

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Speaker 1: would do the wise thing and run.
Perhaps he could close the distance,

85
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Speaker 1: though. Shale managed to get a foot
under him. The soul burn wracked his nerves, and

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Speaker 1: either combat was completely out of
the question. The man held up a single finger

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Speaker 1: for him to pause. Hold on a second.
Was he, was he

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Speaker 1: asking for a timeout from a fight to
the death? How do you do

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00:09:07,252 --> 00:09:13,032
Speaker 1: this again? He scratched his chin
with the other hand and actually turned

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Speaker 1: away from Shale for a moment to
think. Shale surged forward with everything he
had.

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Speaker 1: It was now or never. It was now or...
Oh, yes. The man spun his pointed

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Speaker 1: finger around in a little circle. The
firelight dimmed noticeably for a moment,

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Speaker 1: then sputtered back to life. Shale's
feet stopped moving at the ankle, but the rest

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Speaker 1: of his body did not. Instead of
colliding with the scrawny man, his body above
the

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Speaker 1: ankle swung like a hinge at the
floor. He had just enough time to let out a
pitiful

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Speaker 1: scream before his head bounced
violently off the floor. The wind was completely

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Speaker 1: knocked out of him. It seemed
impossible that he should still be conscious.
One of

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Speaker 1: his eyes swirled to look down at his
ankles. Two hoops of bright white hard light

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00:10:02,812 --> 00:10:08,732
Speaker 1: held his ankles in place. That's a
light binding. This man was a

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Speaker 1: light mage. Well, obviously. His
brain was definitely coming apart.

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Speaker 1: He was a binder, the only martial
discipline of the Guild of Light. Normally, a

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Speaker 1: fight like this wasn't even a fight
at all. The binder would wrap him in some hard

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Speaker 1: light, maybe get in a good laugh or
two. Then Shale would step into his second self

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Speaker 1: and beat the snot out of the other
mage's soul. But with the anomaly so close,

105
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Speaker 1: that was not an option. So instead,
he lay on the floor, wondering when

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Speaker 1: he would finally lose consciousness.
Don't go dying on me yet. You'll

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Speaker 1: miss the fun. Shale turned his head
to look up at the lunatic. The

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Speaker 1: man pulled the cork from his vial
and, and something very strange

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00:11:00,952 --> 00:11:06,812
Speaker 1: happened. A crack shot out of the
vial and through reality, a tear in

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Speaker 1: the world. Through that crack, Shale
could see another place, a

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Speaker 1: bizarre, colorful world floating in
the middle of deep darkness. The crazed

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Speaker 1: man picked a few things up off the
floor, sewing implements from the dead woman's

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Speaker 1: kit and he held up her severed hand
and laughed, then

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Speaker 1: casually tossed it into the tear in
the world. There was a fizzing sound, then a

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Speaker 1: little pop as it disappeared. Then
Shale started to move,

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Speaker 1: dragged by the hard light bindings
around his ankles. No, no, no, no, no,

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Speaker 1: no. He knew where he was going, but
he couldn't fathom it, wanted anything except

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Speaker 1: this. He'd rather die. He'd rather...
See you soon. And

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00:11:57,472 --> 00:12:03,052
Speaker 1: as soon as Shale got close to the
tear, he could feel the crackle of its raw power

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Speaker 1: even on this side of the Aether. This
was the source of everything. He was

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Speaker 1: sure of it. It was the power of a
god, but it was being used like a

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Speaker 1: toy. He felt it tearing his second
self out of his body, felt the

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00:12:20,700 --> 00:12:26,240
Speaker 1: fraying of the tether that bound his
soul to his body. Then there was a fizzing

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Speaker 1: sound followed by a little pop as the
person who used to be Shale

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Speaker 1: disappeared.

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Speaker 1: Chapter Four: The Threaded.

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Speaker 1: Threadmother looked down at the
newcomer with a mix of pity and excitement. She
knew

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Speaker 1: she shouldn't be excited that someone
else joined them, but it was very nice to have

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Speaker 1: a fresh face. You could only spend so
many lifetimes with the same people, no matter

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00:12:57,780 --> 00:13:03,360
Speaker 1: how often they were mixed up and
erased. With a newcomer here, there was

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00:13:03,440 --> 00:13:09,240
Speaker 1: also the potential for something
else. No. No, she didn't dare think it.

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Speaker 1: This was her lot. Even imagining
escape was too painful. Living in the

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Speaker 1: moment had served her well. Living in
false hope, that was a pain she could no

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Speaker 1: longer bear. She still wasn't certain
whether the relative stubbornness of

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Speaker 1: her own memory across each lifetime
was a blessing or a curse. The

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Speaker 1: newcomer didn't have any eyes yet, so
she slid across the room and began

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00:13:38,720 --> 00:13:44,480
Speaker 1: rifling through pockets sewn into
that side of her home. The Blues were kind

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Speaker 1: enough to donate every odd and end
they found. Threadmother wasn't a Blue.

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Speaker 1: She made a point of that by sewing
every color of yarn into her body. But she did

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Speaker 1: favor the Blues, though she'd never
say that publicly. She found what she was

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Speaker 1: looking for and then slid her
amorphous body back to the newcomer. Just a

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Speaker 1: sad little lump of red core yarn with
no arms, no legs, no

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00:14:12,760 --> 00:14:17,760
Speaker 1: eyes, and no mouth. She was very
careful with his core yarn.

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Speaker 1: Fortunately, the children who'd found
the newcomer had not touched him. They'd run

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00:14:23,640 --> 00:14:28,420
Speaker 1: home to their parents, and those
threaded had come straight to her. Apparently,
he

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00:14:28,440 --> 00:14:33,940
Speaker 1: had fallen from the sky. He was
luckier still that he'd fallen into the Blue

147
00:14:34,040 --> 00:14:39,660
Speaker 1: neighborhood of Chandelier. Though
Threadmother did work for any threaded, she
hated

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00:14:39,720 --> 00:14:43,860
Speaker 1: to think what might have happened to
this poor soul if he'd fallen somewhere else.

149
00:14:44,500 --> 00:14:49,940
Speaker 1: Or worse, missed the Chandelier
entirely. Threadmother used a metal

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Speaker 1: crochet hook nearly half her height
to wrap the newcomer's core yarn in something

151
00:14:55,320 --> 00:15:01,220
Speaker 1: more sturdy. A simple blue body with
no arms or legs, scaffolding for whatever

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00:15:01,260 --> 00:15:06,980
Speaker 1: he wanted next. That was not
something she should decide for him. But eyes
and a

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00:15:07,040 --> 00:15:12,960
Speaker 1: mouth, that she could do. She affixed
two black buttons to the front of

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00:15:13,020 --> 00:15:17,560
Speaker 1: the yarn bundle. One was a little
smaller than the other, but hopefully he
wouldn't

155
00:15:17,620 --> 00:15:23,000
Speaker 1: mind. It was better than not being
able to see, after all. Finally, she

156
00:15:23,080 --> 00:15:27,940
Speaker 1: carefully threaded some of his blue
body yarn through a small, colorful dried

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00:15:28,160 --> 00:15:33,700
Speaker 1: noodle. The newcomer used his new
mouth immediately. He

158
00:15:33,920 --> 00:15:38,960
Speaker 1: screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

159
00:15:40,440 --> 00:15:45,900
Speaker 1: Threadmother waited quite a while for
him to stop screaming. When he didn't, she

160
00:15:45,960 --> 00:15:51,220
Speaker 1: pulled a pair of scissors out of her
amorphous yarn body and snipped the blue yarn

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00:15:51,260 --> 00:15:57,180
Speaker 1: running through his noodle mouth. The
sound stopped immediately. "Now, if you

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00:15:57,220 --> 00:16:02,800
Speaker 1: can stop screaming, I will give you
your mouth back." The black button eyes

163
00:16:02,860 --> 00:16:08,600
Speaker 1: glinted up at her. "Do you think you
can manage that?" The little log of

164
00:16:08,660 --> 00:16:13,540
Speaker 1: yarn wiggled up and down slightly. If
he couldn't handle a mouth, she certainly

165
00:16:13,580 --> 00:16:18,260
Speaker 1: wasn't giving him arms and legs.
Imagine having to chase this person around her

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00:16:18,340 --> 00:16:24,120
Speaker 1: house with a pair of scissors.
Threadmother slid the noodle back on his face
and

167
00:16:24,180 --> 00:16:30,140
Speaker 1: tied a knot where she'd cut the yarn.
A scar to remind him. Scars were useful

168
00:16:30,180 --> 00:16:34,900
Speaker 1: things like that. "Who? Where?

169
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Speaker 1: Who?" "Hello. Threadmother, the
Chandelier,

170
00:16:42,440 --> 00:16:48,400
Speaker 1: and Threadmother." "What?" "Now,
that's a much

171
00:16:48,460 --> 00:16:54,120
Speaker 1: more complicated question to answer."
"Are you making fun of me?"

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00:16:54,140 --> 00:16:59,800
Speaker 1: "Yes, but to be fair, you're making
it rather easy." "Your

173
00:16:59,940 --> 00:17:05,460
Speaker 1: name is Threadmother?" "Yes, as I
said. Now,

174
00:17:05,800 --> 00:17:11,780
Speaker 1: what's your name?" "I'm... My name is
Shale.

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00:17:12,720 --> 00:17:18,220
Speaker 1: I'm a mage of the Guild of Self." He
seemed very

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00:17:18,300 --> 00:17:23,500
Speaker 1: uncertain about that. Threadmother
wanted desperately to ask him a thousand

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00:17:23,560 --> 00:17:28,760
Speaker 1: questions before his memories started
to fade. She wanted to follow those threads

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00:17:28,820 --> 00:17:34,260
Speaker 1: back to the outside world, perhaps
piece together what it was like, who she

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00:17:34,440 --> 00:17:40,020
Speaker 1: was, who she used to be anyway. She
might not be able to escape the

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00:17:40,080 --> 00:17:45,700
Speaker 1: Imagicerum, but perhaps she could
remember. Remember what it was like to be

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00:17:45,780 --> 00:17:51,720
Speaker 1: real. That would be enough. "Shale,
can I ask you

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00:17:51,800 --> 00:17:57,500
Speaker 1: a few questions?" "Okay." Before she
could ask, though,

183
00:17:58,160 --> 00:18:03,780
Speaker 1: there was a fizzing sound, then a
deep, resounding boom.

184
00:18:04,600 --> 00:18:10,460
Speaker 1: Threadmother parted the yarn of her
wall to look outside. Something was falling from

185
00:18:10,520 --> 00:18:15,740
Speaker 1: a shimmering crack in the sky. An
enormous severed hand.

186
00:18:16,520 --> 00:18:22,460
Speaker 1: With pallid gray flesh and serrated
yellowing fingernails, it leveled a home as it

187
00:18:22,520 --> 00:18:27,660
Speaker 1: landed. It lay there for a moment,
then rose into the air on gigantic

188
00:18:27,820 --> 00:18:33,700
Speaker 1: fingertips, towering above the
surrounding homes. Threaded ran screaming from
the

189
00:18:33,720 --> 00:18:39,120
Speaker 1: wreckage. A moment after that, it
began pulling homes and

190
00:18:39,200 --> 00:18:44,880
Speaker 1: people apart. Oh no. Shale rolled

191
00:18:44,960 --> 00:18:50,060
Speaker 1: around on the floor, trying in vain
to see. What? What's happening?

192
00:18:51,660 --> 00:18:57,620
Speaker 1: Another ending. I don't understand.
Then she

193
00:18:57,700 --> 00:19:03,500
Speaker 1: let the parted wall close and turned
around to face the newcomer, suddenly filled

194
00:19:03,560 --> 00:19:09,040
Speaker 1: with a feeling of deep, sinking
sadness. She hated this part.

195
00:19:10,120 --> 00:19:15,420
Speaker 1: This person's memories were so fresh.
And now that

196
00:19:15,540 --> 00:19:20,800
Speaker 1: opportunity was wasted. You've come
at the worst

197
00:19:20,880 --> 00:19:26,720
Speaker 1: possible time. The Master is ready to
play.

198
00:19:27,980 --> 00:19:33,440
Speaker 1: What does that mean? But Shale asked
no more

199
00:19:33,520 --> 00:19:38,640
Speaker 1: questions, because the screams
provided an answer.