Somebody Stop Us. Chapter 1: Dreams of the Past

Skyscrapers, or what was left of them, clawed at a sky choked with broiling dark clouds. They were skeletal, their glass eyes long since shattered, revealing the rusted bones of their inner workings. A colossal ruin, a megastructure of decaying metal, cleaved the apocalyptic city in two like a butcher’s knife through meat.

My boots crunched on pulverized, frost-covered concrete. An orange safety vest, incongruously bright against the monochrome decay, hung loose on my frame. A yellow hardhat perched precariously on my head, its lamp beam cutting a feeble swathe through the gloom, my silver hair fluttering as I walked.

The beam danced across the skeletal remains of buildings, illuminating piles of rubble, twisted metal, and the unsettling stillness of utter desolation.

As I roamed through this corpse-world, a flicker of pink caught my eye. Perched precariously on a rusted I-beam, amidst the fallen giants, sat a figure. A girl. She was in a space suit, scratched and dented. It was the pink that stood out, a faded, childish hue against the grim black and gray backdrop.

As I approached, lighting the way with my hardhat, she turned. My breath hitched. The front of her space suit was torn open, a jagged rip that exposed… nothing. 

Or not nothing exactly. Something was moving within the innards of the suit. Something dark and alien.

Her helmet was shattered, gone entirely. And within it, where a human face should have been, dark metallic fluid twisted and warped, bubbling like ferrofluid responding to an unseen magnetic field. 

I stepped back, the rubble crunching under my feet.

The thing in the space suit spotted me and jumped off the beam, landing near me with a loud crunch of the suit’s boots. Then, the fluid coalesced, the warped darkness smoothing, reforming. It was an approximation, a fluid mimicry, but undeniably… Vee. 

Vespera made of dark, liquid chrome.

“Sup, Lexxy?” The fluid-Vee spoke, her voice a distorted, fuzzy echo.

“Sup, Vee,” I replied, my breath forming white clouds in the air. “What is this place?”

The fluid face tilted, a dark shimmer rippling across its surface. “A dream of another place and time,” she said. “Of another me from long, long ago. From elsewhere and elsewhen. A corpse world of my kin.”

“Your kin?”

“Terraforge. A nanite network designed to terraform planets created by Dorra the Terraformer,” Vespera said. “Since the dimensional shift wobbled my soul, I’m starting to remember this. Remember me. Remember you.”

“Me?”

“Alexa,” Vespera replied. “Martin. You. Both of you who gave me your minds, bound me to your lovely selves. It amuses me quite a bit that a thing, a nanite network like me could have a soul, one that reincarnated as an Omnid Thunderbird after the fall of the Wormwood Star.”

A gloved hand, pink and scratched, reached out towards me. Or rather, the space suit itself reached, the fluid within flowing and extending, mimicking the gesture of offering a hand.

Hesitantly, I reached back. My glove met hers, or rather, the cold, smooth surface of the space suit glove. There was no warmth, no give, just the unsettling coolness of metal and… something else, something vaguely electric, humming beneath the surface.

“Not scared of me are you?” she asked, the fluid-Vee’s face tilting again, the dark liquid catching the faint light from my hardhat, reflecting it back in a distorted, unsettling way of a million microscopic things bubbling and ever-shifting.

“Nah,” I said. “I’d love you even if you were a terrifying liquid terminator, a machine from a corpse world.”

And surprisingly, it was true. Despite the corpse-world, despite the shattered city, despite the girl made of liquid metal, I wasn’t scared. There was a strange familiarity here, a resonance that whispered of connection, of understanding. 

Even in this corpse world of death and decay, Vee was still Vee. And somehow, that was enough.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she laughed. “Shall we see how our lovely Cinderella is doing?”

“Sure,” I nodded.

The dark, liquid metal flowed from its space suit, engulfed all of me in its icy embrace and then the corpse world melted, burned away in a flash, replaced by another dream.

. . .

The chill of liquid metal faded, and suddenly I was in another dreamscape, a space that felt intimately familiar, yet… different. 

It was Cinder’s room, or a dream-version of it. The dark violet walls, the blackout curtains, the metal band posters, overpriced wooden furniture bought her by her parents. The See-Mass lights cast a gentle, almost soothing glow from above. Soft strumming of a guitar emanated from the bed.

Cinder was there, perched on her bed in gray hexamesh pants and a dark t-shirt with the pyramid eye and rainbow logo. 

Her fingers danced over the fretboard of her guitar, weaving a slow, melancholic melody. She didn't look up as we manifested. Vespera was now her Thunderbird self, standing beside me, her feathers gradually shifting with black and white patterns.

“Ci?” Vespera said.

Cinder paused her strumming, her head tilting up, ocean-blue eyes focusing on us. “What are you two doing here?” she asked wearily. 

“Just checking in on ya,” Vespera said. “Like always. Making sure our favorite Quetzi isn’t brooding alone in the dark.” She perched on the edge of Cinder’s bed, her wings folding neatly behind her, and I settled on the other side, watching Cinder’s face.

Cinder’s eyes flickered between us. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just… relaxing with some music. Valor’s gone, right? So… why are you two here?”

With a sudden, decisive movement, Vespera reached out, her magisteel talons grasping a corner of the violet wallpaper. She rapidly peeled it back with a tearing sound.

Beneath the smooth, violet surface, myriads of shimmering cracks were revealed. They were thin, hairline fractures, spiderwebbing across the wall, catching the dream-light and reflecting it back in a dizzying, unsettling pattern. The cracks were not just on the surface; they seemed to extend deep into the very structure of the dream-room, radiating outwards like fissures in ice.

Cinder’s breath hitched. 

“Your soul is still effed, Ci,” Vespera said. “Valor is gone, yes. But… he did a number on you over the years.”

She gestured towards the cracked wallpaper. “See all these fissures? All these fractures? That’s… the damage he left behind. You can pretend that it’s not there, but your soul is still in a pretty bad shape.”

Cinder remained silent. She frowned.

“And until this heals… well, you’re kinda vulnerable, Ci,” Vespera said.

“Vulnerable to what?” Cinder asked.

Vespera’s wings shifted, spreading slightly, as if to shield Cinder from some unseen threat. “To… anything Astral, really,” she said, her tone serious now. “To other… Outsiders. To influences or further damage. To anything that might want to… get in. Take advantage of the cracks. Fill the hollows the flesh-fold left behind. Also, I don’t know how long it’ll take the Stabalists to patch up that hole in reality on Lake Eerie. They’ve got enough shit to deal with as it is.”

“Shit caused by you two,” Cinder pointed out, resuming her strumming.

“Yeah,” Vespera shrugged. “We did make a bit of a mess.”

“A bit is an understatement,” Cinder rolled her eyes.

“A bit, like, ‘accidentally unleashing an Archangel and causing a worldwide dimensional shift’ bit?” I commented. “Just a smol messy, really.”

Vespera snorted. “Minor collateral damage! We’ll send Saxtland a fruit basket. Maybe a gift certificate for… rune-etched pottery? Do Saxtlanders like pottery?”

Cinder actually cracked a small smile, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards despite herself. “You two are incorrigible,” she muttered.

“Incorrigibly adorkable, you mean,” Vespera corrected, nudging Cinder playfully with a wing. “And incorrigibly dedicated to your well-being, Skittles. Which is why we’re here, in your… slightly cracked dream-room, offering our expert services in soul-mending and general Quetzi-coddling.”

“Coddling?” Cinder repeated.

“Maybe cuddling?” Vespera slid behind us and wrapped Cinder and me tight in her embrace. 

“Yes? Yes.” She clicked, agreeing with herself and pushing our faces together. “Now kiss.”

. . .

Cinder woke with a gasp, a blush blooming across her feathers like wildfire. Her wings twitched, feathers flaring in a mix of pink and orange. “Oh my effing Astral, did we seriously spend all night fff…” she stammered out, blue eyes wide and unfocused for a heartbeat before snapping to me and Vee and falling silent.

Vespera, sitting up beside me, was practically radiating smugness. “Yepperoni,” she clicked. “What are dreams for if not for some quality ‘ship bonding?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“‘Ship bonding’?” Cinder repeated. "How was that supposed to help my soul?"

"Part of the bonding experience!" Vespera declared. "The more you trust us, easier it will be for me to eventually fix yo soul. I don't wanna be slicing you up like an effin' Psychopomp. Dreamancy requires trust."

"Sounds like an excuse to maul me," Cinder's blush on her feathers deepened.

“Nu-huh!” Vespera chirped, stretching on the bed and spreading out her wings. “Gotta keep the ‘ship engines purring! Gotta ensure optimal… uh… ‘shipping efficiency’! Gotta… gotta…” she trailed off, laughing at her own increasingly convoluted metaphor and Cinder’s furiously blushing face, sending a shower of sparks dancing across the bed.

Cinder huffed and abruptly hopped off the bed, her movements somewhat jerky and uncoordinated. “Shower,” she mumbled, not meeting our eyes. “I need a shower. Now.” And with that, she practically bolted towards the bathroom door, her rainbow tail whipping behind her in a flurry of indignant pinks and embarrassed reds.

Vespera cackled behind her. “Aww. Someone’s flustered!” she called after Cinder, then turned back to me. “Ke ke ke. Mission accomplished. Operation: Quetzi-Coddling, Phase Three: Dream Therapy, deemed a resounding success!”

I chuckled, shaking my head at Vee’s antics as I climbed off the expanded bunk bed.

Stepping away from the bed, I spotted Io, Magdaline, Katherine, and Lilith chatting to each other in the lounge area of our Silverfox room. The Omnids inhabited silver-white leather seats and chairs near the tall window leading to the balcony.

“How are things, team?” I asked.

“Good,” Mags replied. “Catching up with everyone. The Stabalist Scruts did a surprisingly good job on fixing up our memories. It is a curious sensation to have two sets of memories in my head, one in which I am a lonely shark and one in which I had Vee and Ci as my best friends since grade nine. You know, Alex… I don’t believe I’ve expressed how much I appreciate you freeing me from San Clemente and hooking me up with Io.”

Io made a noise from his corner, sputtering slightly into his S-Bux coffee cup.

In fact, everyone had the same coffee cups likely harvested by Io from a doomed dimension.

“Likewise,” Lilith added with a slight curtsy. “Thanks for funding my education in Skyfall and for making me your Sixie, Clan Leader. Sorry for forgetting who you were yesterday, my Slayer.”

“Don’t fret it,” I shrugged. “I forgot tons of stuff too. How are you enjoying our tower residence, Kat?” I turned to the dark blue Stollwurm.

“It’s bright,” she shrugged, dark goggles sitting atop of her eyes. “I prefer the catacombs. Also, thanks for the dress. Also... While I do like the higher local aetheric density, I am very concerned about you releasing more Archangels.”

“I don’t have plans to release any more Archangels,” I said.

“Why do I not believe you?” Kat asked.

“Pinky swear, no more Archangel releases this week,” I insisted. “Maybe next week, depending on my schedule.”

Katherine’s green eyes narrowed, but she smiled with the edge of her mouth. “Next week, you’ll probably get distracted by something else even more horrific to unleash.”

“Hey, I resent that accusation,” I protested. “I’m a careful, meticulous planner! Chaos just… happens to orbit around me when I move fast, manifesting in my wake. It’s not my fault if the universe has a twisted sense of humor. Also, I blame Vee.”

“The universe has a twisted sense of humor because you keep poking it with a stick of rapid change,” Vespera interjected from her perch on the bed. “And sometimes, said stick is a fully loaded death ray, a Fourty-Two-Thousand-Year-Old Corpse Seeker, or a rampaging Archangel.”

Io chuckled softly, offering Mags a 'meat-flavoured' pocky box from his dimensional stash.

“Anyway,” I said, shifting the conversation away from my… questionable track record with cosmic entities, “What do you think Justice Nova n' Co will do next?”

“Probably damage control,” Vespera shrugged, stretching her wings again. “Omnithornia just invaded a sovereign nation and occupied a major educational institution. Diplomatically speaking, that’s… a tad awkward. They’ll need to spin this as ‘humanitarian intervention’ or ‘necessary security measures’ or some other Corpo-bullshit.”

“I read Judge Nova's announcement on ONN,” Lilith said. “They're making a big show out of capturing Uxtish, displaying him as an example of Saxtland incompetence, since he's basically the most powerful ghoul that got into Skyfall, one that could have easily taken out the entire student population.”

“Yas. Give me praises," Vespera said. "Valor is gone, Skyfall is back in Omnithornian hands, and we’re all still alive. Win-win, right?”

Katherine snorted. “Win-win for Omnithornia, maybe. Not so much for Saxtland, or for anyone who prefers their educational institutions not to be occupied by armed forces.”

“And not for anyone who values… stability. Dimensional shifts tend to have… long-term consequences,” Io added. “The cracks in reality… they don’t just magically disappear. Plus the Kiltix-aided healing seems to have a rather unexpected effect…”

“Such as?” I asked.

“I had a dream in which I was… Bob Proverra,” Io said. “A man who was once an unstoppable superhero…”

“Really?” I squinted at him. “And what did you think about that?”

“I have far more memories as an Omnid,” Iogann said sagely. “I am the current me, not the me of my past lives. The mistakes and troubles of my past do not define me. I seek to learn from them and move forward."

"Aww, aren't you a clever cookie," Mags petted Io.

“Did all of you dream about your past selves?” I asked the others.

“I was a human hero named Chalice,” Magdaline nodded. 

“I dreamt of being Verse Twenty-Four-Nineteen,” Kat said idly. “An Equalizer Enforcer. I'd like to get a null-railgun, I think. It would help me protect you all better as your Knight.”

“I'll see if I can get one for you, through the Rainbow and Thunder Omnicorp,” I smiled at her. 

“Thank you, Martin,” Katherine smiled back at me, her expression almost like the girl I remembered from another life.

“Aiiiight, we're gonna shower and then we all breakfast!” Vespera declared and pulled me into the bathroom.

 . . .

Feeling extra refreshed after a long, hot shower of getting scrubbed and scrubbing my 'ship mates, we joined the others in the lounge area of our dorm room.

After we were all dressed and ready, we headed downstairs.

As we reached the Foxglen Den common room, we spotted Christi Negal there, fluttering around with her usual boundless enthusiasm. The Cherufe was handing out colorful brochures to the Silverfox students milling about, her fiery hair flaring with every gesture.

“Good morning, everyone! Good morning friends!” she chirped, her voice echoing through the Den. “Did you all sleep well? I hope you’re excited for your first and also not-first class day at Skyfall Academy!”

She spotted us and practically bounced over, her pink and black skirt fluttering with her energetic movements. “Alex! Cinder! Vee! Mags! Io! Lilith! Perfect timing!”

Christi thrust a brightly colored brochure into my hand from a stack in her hands, dispensing more brochures to everyone. “Here you go!”

I stared at the brochure in my hands 'Celestorm and You: A Student Guide to Navigating Dimensional Shifts!' 

“The Omnithornian Ministry of Interdimensional Affairs put these together overnight! Super informative! It explains everything about the Celestorm, dimensional shifts, and how to… adjust your expectations for the newly rewritten timeline!” The Cherufe declared jovially.

Cinder stared at Christi with a look of surprise as she accepted her brochure. “Christi? What are you doing here? Aren’t you Student Council Secretary? Shouldn’t you be… you know… in the Student Council office? Or… in Pyroclast?”

"I am! But I'm also your rep!" Christi beamed even brighter, her hair flaring a bit hotter. “Got sorted to Silverfox yesterday! Isn’t it awesome?!” She gestured around the light-colored Foxglen Den with an expansive wave of her arm. “Turns out, the Slayer Sword thought I was… ‘cunning’ enough for this House! Who knew?!”

“You? Silverfox? But… you’re like… the least cunning person I know, Christi. You’re practically a walking ray of sunshine!” The Quetzi-girl said.

Christi just giggled, unfazed by Cinder’s blunt assessment. “Well, maybe I have hidden depths! Maybe I’m secretly a master strategist, just waiting for the right moment to reveal my cunning plans to the world!” She laughed, glancing at me.

I winked at her. Christi had indeed been a sneaky Omnid who had arranged all of my classes together with Cinder's just to get us to become friends.

“Anyway! I’m here to welcome you all to Silverfox and to give you the official First-Year Orientation spiel! Are you ready to be initiated into the cunningest, cleverest, most strategically brilliant House in all of Skyfall?!”

“Born ready,” Vespera grinned, striking a dramatic pose. Magdaline nodded slowly. Lilith just raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on her lips. Io nodded.

“This is bullshit,” Cinder huffed, crossing her arms. “Did the Slayer’s Sword glitch out or something? How does this chatty demon not get sorted into Pyroclast?”

“Maybe she likes someone here?” Vespera elbowed Cinder. “Isn’t that how you ended up in the fox-den? By following Lexxy?”

Cinder replied with a deep growl.

After Christi’s enthusiastically chaotic orientation, which mostly consisted of rapid-fire chatter about Silverfox House, the best spots in the Foxglen Den, and the importance of ‘embracing your inner fox’, everyone from Silverfox was led by Christi into the Refectory.

The atmosphere in the dining hall was subdued. Many students were clustered in groups, chatting amongst themselves, their eyes occasionally darting towards the Omnithornian officers who were still stationed at the entrances.

After our breakfast, we headed towards our first class of the day: Advanced Xenobiology with Dr. Greyfield.

Dr. Greyfield seemed utterly unfazed by the dimensional shift. He was already in his office, humming to himself and arranging various crystals. As students filed in, he beamed at them, his red eyes gleaming behind his thick, dark glasses.

“Good morning, class!” he called out cheerfully, as if nothing unusual had happened. “I see you all made it through the night in one piece! Wonderful, wonderful! A new semester, a new timeline, a new… dimensional reality! Oh, the possibilities are simply boundless!”

He paused. “Speaking of boundless possibilities… has anyone noticed any… unusual physiological changes since the Celestorm?” He peered around the room expectantly. “Any unexpected sprouting of tentacles? Sudden urges to speak in forgotten languages? Existential dread manifesting as… sentient furniture? Curious dreams of past lives? Do share! I’m always eager to collect more… first hand data!”

The class remained mostly silent, a few nervous coughs and rustles the only responses. A purple Tanystropheus in the front row nervously adjusted her neck collars.

Dr. Greyfield sighed dramatically, a sound like air hissing from a punctured balloon. “Ah well, perhaps the truly interesting changes are… internal, subtle. No matter! Today, class, we shall delve into the very essence of Omnithean physiology! And what better time to do so than in the wake of a reality-altering Celestorm?!” He rubbed his spindly hands together with glee.

“Given the… temporal and spatial disruptions, and the… shall we say, fluid nature of current events, we shall postpone our study of interdimensional parasites for a bit,” Dr. Greyfield announced. “Instead, we shall focus on ourselves! Yes! On the magnificent, multifaceted, mystically marvelous Omnid body! And how it interacts with… well, everything! Especially with… each other!”

He beamed, his gaze sweeping across the room. “A demonstration is in order, I believe! A practical, hands-on exploration of Omnid-to-Omnid… interaction! Volunteers, anyone? Anyone at all?” He paused, his gaze lingering expectantly on the silent class. “Come now, don’t be shy! This is for science! And extra credit, of course!”

Silence. Students studiously avoided eye contact, pretending to be deeply engrossed in their textbooks or the random patterns on their magisteel desks. 

“Oh, come on now,” Dr. Greyfield sighed again, a theatrical sound of utter disappointment. “Nobody? Not even for science? Are all of my post-shift Omnid students truly lacking in intellectual curiosity these days?” He peered around the room, his gaze finally landing on me, sitting beside Cinder in the back corner.

I stood up, meeting his eyes. “I am up for it, Doc.”

“Ah! Mr. Glock!” Dr. Greyfield beamed, his red eyes igniting with sudden enthusiasm. “Wunderbar! A volunteer! And I do believe that Ms. Nova was your assigned partner before the shift, yes?”

Cinder sent me an annoyed look to which I offered a shrug.

“How… serendipitous!” Dr. Greyfield clapped his hands together. “Mr. Glock, Ms. Nova, please step forward! We shall demonstrate the fascinating interplay of Omnid energies and skills!”

I stood up, pulling Cinder to her feet with me. She grumbled under her breath, but followed.

“Perfect!” Dr. Greyfield beamed, his red eyes practically glowing. He bustled behind his desk, rummaging through drawers filled with vintage scientific equipment and gleaming magitek devices. He emerged holding a sleek, silver shield, hexagonal in shape, with intricate runes etched across its surface.

“Mr. Glock, my dear boy, please take this barrier shield!” He thrust it into my hands. The shield was hefty magisteel and nearly made me lose balance. I readjusted my stance as not to tip over. “This should… equalize the playing field, as it were, since Cinder is of a higher level than you,” He winked at me.

He then rolled a large, crystalline device and positioned it in the center of the lab. It resembled an oversized steampunk, ornate projector, with lenses and prisms and glowing tubes, all humming softly.

“And this, my dear students,” Dr. Greyfield declared, patting the device with affection, “is our Astralscope! A marvel of Omnid engineering, capable of projecting… well, all sorts of fascinating energies! Today, we shall use it to visualize the… skill interaction… between two Omnids!”

He began fiddling with dials and switches on the Astralscope, the lenses whirring and adjusting themselves. A holographic projection shimmered into existence around the device, encompassing the area where we stood.

“Now then,” Dr. Greyfield continued. “Ms. Nova, if you would be so kind… Please demonstrate your… core skill! Your, ahmm, Charmchain magic, if you will!”

“Demonstrate it now?” Cinder asked.

“Use your voice to make Mr. Glock submit to your will, of course,” Dr. Greyfield grinned. “Make him surrender and put the shield down.”

Cinder nodded curtly. She pulled her guitar from its extradimensional case. Then she began strumming. Her wings unfolded, igniting with a soft, rainbow glow that seemed to pulse in time with the music.

Dr. Greyfield beamed, adjusting the Astralscope controls again. The projection brightened. Suddenly, shimmering, aurora-like lines of light erupted from Cinder’s guitar and wings in the holographic projection, stretching outwards, swirling and dancing in the air like living energy.

“Ah!” Dr. Greyfield exclaimed, waving at Cinder. “Observe, class! Ms. Nova’s Charmchain magic, visualized in its full glory! Note the… fractal patterns visualized by the Astralscope!”

The holographic auroras pulsed and flowed, their colorful light washing over our corner of the lab, engulfing everything in shimmering, ethereal hues. Then, the lines of light shifted direction, arcing towards me, the holographic representation focusing on my figure, standing behind the barrier shield.

“Bow before my rainbow wings,
Yield to what my power brings,
Your defiance cannot last,
Against the storms that I amass.

Surrender now, lay down your shield,
The feathered serpent will not yield,
My ancient might cannot be swayed,
Until your tribute has been paid!”

Cinder sang.

Brilliant, colorful auroras collided with the shield, and the holographic projection erupted in a dazzling display of color and light. The lines of light seemed to bounce off the shield, swirling and eddying around it, creating concentric explosions of color that pulsed outwards like ripples in water.

“Observe, class! The barrier shield held by Mr. Glock is deflecting Ms. Nova’s Charmchain magic! Notice how the energy fields are… dissipating, scattering, unable to penetrate the… protective Ward!” the Instructor pointed out.

“You can feel it, yes, Mr. Glock?” Dr. Greyfield asked me, his red eyes peering at me expectantly. “Your heartbeat joining the music?”

I nodded.

“Keep going Miss Nova!” Dr. Greyfield encouraged. “Push more magic into your words. Penetrate the shield if you can!”

“Through winds and skies, I rule supreme
Your resistance is a fading dream
My coils encircle earth and air
Submit now, if you dare!

From Aztec temples, I descend
Your puny strength is at its end!”

Cinder sang. The shield wobbled in my hands, my brain beginning to melt. Perfect. She was perfect. Lovely. So many colors. I shook my head. No. I wasn't going to give in so easily!

“I am a Goddess through ages past,
Power that was meant to last,
Time grows short, your choice is clear,
Bow down NOW, while mercy's near!

The choice is yours but time grows thin,
Surrender now and you may win,
My mercy - while it still remains,
Before my wrath brings endless rains!”

My knees gave out under me and I fell, the shield slamming into the floor. I gritted my teeth. 

“Give up now for meeeee
Bow before your Goddess and be freeee!”

Cinder’s voice resonated, intensified, pounding at my psyche across the shield. I swayed with her music, felt my consciousness melting away, giving out, the shield slipping away from my sweaty fingers.

"Fight her, Mr. Glock!" Dr. Greyfield barked my way encouragingly. "Show her what you can do! I believe in you!"