Written by: Epicstu Wyyvernwriter

“This is Doctor Phribs Sculler with patient number 59735010,” said a thin brown haired man with glasses into a recording device. “October sixth two thousand nineteen. Day seven of rehabilitation,” Phribs spoke with a calm voice and a smile. “Mr. Aventis, how are you feeling today.”

“We are running out of time,” Leon replied.

“Out of time?” Phribs questioned. “For what?”

“I told you,” Leon pounded his cuffed hands on the table and leaned forward. “The Gods will be here soon. We need to prepare and pray…”

“For Edward, that he might defeat Searl and rule the Multiverse,” Phribs sighed. “And how do you know this?”

“The End told me,” Leon sat back down in his chair. “We can either have faith in Edward that he will succeed, or we can do something about it.”

“And you believe we should do something about it?” Phribs went along with the conversation the two of them had been having every session so far with the hope that it might change.

“I believe that those who do not believe will be swept away by their war,” Leon replied. “I believe that Edward cannot save those who do not believe. I believe that no one alive today believes.”

“Except for you,” Phribs rebutted before shuffling through his paperwork and sliding a photograph of William Sidro, Leon’s former apprentice. “You said, in our past sessions, that your colleague, William, when he believed turned into… what was it, teal-hued dust?”

“Snow,” Leon replied. “He turned into teal-hued white snow. Edward’s snow.

“Yes, while we did find a teal-hued white powdery substance in that room you discovered,” Phribs began.

“Temple,” Leon interrupted. 

“Right, temple…” Phribs continued. “It was not cold enough to be snow and also had properties to it that our scientists believe snow did not have.”

“How could they possibly know what properties snow has?” Leon argued. “It hasn’t snowed anywhere on this God forsaken planet for thousands of years.”

“And by that logic, how could you?” Phribs rebutted. “What did you do with William’s body after you killed him?”

“I told you he turned into Edward’s snow and went to his safe realm after he believed,” Leon argued.

 “We’ve been over this,” Phribs was becoming impatient with Leon’s grasp on this tale of fantasy. “There is no God. There is no Multiverse outside our own Universe. Edward and Searl are not real. You killed William. Now I’m going to ask you one more time, where is William?”

“You closed minded fools!” Leon stood up and began to shout. “They are coming! Their war will shatter our World and only if Edward wins will we be safe!”

“Security!” Phribs interrupted and three men in lab coats and padded armor rushed in to subdue Leon. “Give him something to help him calm down and then bring him to the therapy room.”

“The Gods are coming!” Leon urged. “Why won’t you listen. This is our history! There is archaeological proof! We must prepare! We must pray! They are coming! The Gods are coming! The Gods are co…ming…” he fell with a thud after a syringe injected a drug into his bloodstream.

“Shall I prepare him for electro-therapy, Doctor,” asked a nurse.

“No,” replied Doctor Phribs. “Prepare him for Lobotomy, and have his things moved to Anabell’s room. The sooner we can ground him in reality the sooner we find William.”

“Do you really think he killed him?” the nurse asked.

“I hope not,” Phribs replied, “but it would explain why his mind would try to cover up what happened with these fantastical outdated beliefs.”

*          *

“Seven days ago, young William Sidro was announced missing after an excavation led by his own Mentor, the renowned archaeologist Leon Aventis, had discovered an ancient Temple to the mythological god, Edward Michael Dimir,” the news anchor announced over live television. “The incredible find, which has brought new light to the ancient rituals of the pre civilized world, caused Leon to go mad and turn on William. No body has been found and no one is sure whether William is dead or alive at this point in time. William’s parents, Greg and Sasha Sidro have been fighting for Leon’s execution for his crime and when we asked them for their thoughts on the matter, they had this to say,” the feed cut to William’s parents being bombarded by the press.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sidro, do you believe your son is still alive?” a reporter asked.

“Where do you think Leon Aventis hid his body?” asked another.

“My William is still alive, I can feel it,” Sasha screamed into the camera until Greg pulled her aside and hid her from the press under his coat and helped her into their car.

“What Leon has done is an abomination,” Greg said to the press. “The fact that he is still allowed to continue breathing is even more so.” Then he got into the driver’s side of his vehicle and sped off leaving the rushing press behind him.

The feed cut back to the news anchor, “no word yet on whether or not Leon Aventis will be executed.

*          *

“This Leon Aventis you have chosen is going to fail,” commented Sarah. “I was under the impression that you knew everything and could never make a wrong decision.”

“You are just like Edward, you know that?” Aleister replied. “In our first lives together, after our nightly drunk brawl to test our brawn we would play chess to test our wit. Edward would never make a move that he saw would lose a piece. He always sought to win a match without losing a single piece, but the game doesn’t work that way. You cannot win without sacrifice.”

“This is a game to you?” Sarah attested.

“Everything is a game Sarah,” Aleister sighed in regret of the fact. “It is the unfortunate truth of reality and only by accepting this can one see the true value of each and every piece on the board.”

“So this Leon Aventis is a pawn to you,” Sarah remarked. “A piece to be discarded for an end.”

“For now,” Aleister replied. “Tell me, what happens when a pawn reaches the end of the board in chess?”

“It comes back as a better and more important piece giving its player the advantage,” Sarah replied.

“Keep watching,” Aleister urged. “I hope that in time you will see things from my perspective while still keeping to Edward’s morals.”

*          *

Dazed and disoriented from the surgical incision into his prefrontal lobe, Leon was thrown into a room with two beds instead of one. The door shut firmly behind him as he stumbled to one of the beds. Sitting down upon it he slouched forward and rubbed his aching head as his eyes took their time adjusting. The sun blared brightly through thick glass of a window as he looked toward it wondering if he should just give up, “maybe it was all a dream.”

“What was?” it was only after hearing her small voice did Leon notice the young woman sitting in a rocking chair and staring out the window.

“Who are you?” Leon asked her.

“I’m Anabell,” the woman replied. “What’s your name?”

“Leon,” he replied. “Leon Aventis.”

The chair stopped rocking, “are you an assassin?” she asked him.

“No, I’m an Archaeologist,” Leon replied cautiously. “Why would you think I’m an assassin.”

“I’m not sure,” Anabell replied. “I like snow. And rain. There’s something peaceful and calming about them. Have you ever seen a Fennec Fox play in the snow?” Leon stood up and walked toward the window where she sat as she spoke with an unbridled innocence. “The fluffy beige fur riddled in white.”

“Does this fox have teal eyes?” Leon asked.

“Yes,” Anabell smiled. “And the lightning chasing the rain is a brilliant purple flashing through blackened clouds, but…”

“What is it?” Leon asked her.

“The purple lightning is leaving the Fennec Fox,” Anabell’s smile went away. “He tries to chase her down, but can’t keep up. He… He is alone now. The rain has stopped. The snow melts under his tears, but rain and snow do not go together anyway. Were they never meant to be? Was it all just a dream?”

“Are you the Soothslayer?” Leon asked her.

“What did you call me?” Anabell looked at him and in her clouded eyes he saw no glimmer.

“Soothslayer,” Leon repeated.

“Get away from me,” Anabell replied.

“But what about Edward?” Leon urged.

“Do not say that name,” Anabell’s tone had become sour.

Leon put a hand on her shoulder “Anab…”

“I said go away!” she snapped interrupting.

“…I am sorry,” Leon backed off and slowly moved back toward his bed. “I won’t bother you anymore.” Sitting down on the bed he prayed silently, “Edward, Zesrial, anyone. Please, if you are there, give me a sign,” but nothing happened.

Anabell watched as Leon curled up under the thin covers of the hardened bed that the hospital had provided him before looking back out the window again. “Edward… why do I know that name? The name of the Fennec Fox with teal eyes playing in the snow of a land far to the north. A Knight wielding a greatsword of brilliantly purple lightning. Heaven’s Lightning that flashes over teal-hued snow. Rain that only falls when that snow turns to fire. Hellfire that lasts three days and then becomes snow again. God’s snow.” She began to cry, “what are these things that I know? Why do I feel old as time, yet young as in my prime?” The sun had set and night had fallen when she looked down to find a syringe in her open hand bearing a small note which read; Remember your job, signed Victor Wares owner and proprietor of Victor’s Wares TM and Void Transportation. 

Then the door opened as the nurse entered the room, “time for your medicine, Anabell.”

A thud awoke Leon who removed his covers to find Anabell slowly closing the door, a nurse lying unconscious just behind her. “Good, your up,” she said as she looted the keys from the nurses belt. “Time to move, assassin.”

“What’s going on?” Leon questioned. “What are you doing?”

Putting her hand to his mouth, “shh… If you want to help Edward we have to move now, before they realize she’s missing.” Gesturing for Leon to come with her, she slowly moved the door open and peered down the hallway. “We don’t have much time, Assassin. We need to move now.”

Following her out the door, “why do you keep calling me that,” rounding a corner, “I am not an a…” Leon suddenly found himself instinctively snapping the neck of a security officer. “I’ve never done that before. I killed him,” the realization hit him like a locomotive and he could not move.

Anabell slapped him, “you are a Leon Aventis,” Anabell replied. “A natural born assassin. Now snap out of it and come on.” 

“But I…” Leon’s moral compass spiraled as he failed to come to grips with what he had just done.

“Yes, what you did was wrong,” Anabell slapped him again. “There are much larger things at stake than the life of one man right now.”

“He did not believe,” Leon could not stop shaking. “I just sent him to Hell.”

“That is not how things work,” Anabell rebutted with an impatient hushed tone. “There are thousands of Underrealms besides Heaven and Hell and you have to be really bad to get to Hell. It’s super exclusive, now move,” she pushed him forward.

Moving down the hallway Leon found himself out maneuvering and dispatching every guard, nurse, and doctor unfortunate enough to get in their way as they rushed to the rear exit of the hospital in the dead of night. The Alarms suddenly blared, “they must have found one of the bodies,” said Leon.

“You mean the ones you left lying in the hallways un hidden?” Anabell asked sarcastically. “I wonder how.”

Spotlights shined upon them from helicopters above as blue and red sirens flashed loudly, “Leon Aventis! Anabell! Stop where you are. Do not resist or we will open fire.” The two put their hands up in the air and fell to their knees.

*          *

“Leon Aventis and Anabell,” the executioner spoke to the small audience behind the glass wall, “you have been found guilty of murder and sentenced to lethal injection. Do you have any final words before justice is carried out?”

“The End is coming,” said Leon.

“I failed you all,” said Anabell.

Greg Sidro nodded in approval as the life left their eyes. “Justice.” He held his crying wife tight as he stared at Leon to make sure he did not wake back up.