DiaG 170 - Negativing the Unknown

Death and Hilda entered the apartment building, and instantly it was clear something was wrong. There was nobody in the lobby, and more particularly, there were no sounds. It was a kind of quiet that stood out because in the middle of the day, there should be at least a person or two coming and going, or a door shutting somewhere—anything.

“This way,” came Noir’s voice, and Hilda looked over to see a black shadow flit across the floor towards a stairwell.

“Hilda, I believe we are about to enter negative space,” Death explained as they approached the stairwell.

“Negative space…” Hilda repeated the words, and her eyes drifted upwards as she searched her memories. There was some mention of it in one of her mom’s notebooks. When Hilda was younger, especially in her teen years, bouncing around from place to place, when everything was more of a temporary shelter than a home, reading her mom’s notebooks was one of her best comforts. While back then she found more value in any mundane entries related to her mom and dad’s daily lives and adventures, she also got plenty of knowledge about magic and other supernatural things. Even if a lot of them were just her mom’s theories or musings.

But the term “negative space” definitely stood out.

Hilda hadn’t ever read any entries of her mom actually entering negative space, but that’s not to say they didn’t exist somewhere in the great witch’s archives.

Guess I’ll be seeing it firsthand either way, Hilda thought as Death swung the door open and she followed him into the stairwell.

“At the top of these steps,” Noir said, his shadow lingering on a wall beside a window. “It is a one-way entrance, meant to trap new victims, I suspect. But I will move ahead and search for another escape route should it be necessary.”

“Actually, Noir,” Death interjected. “How about instead you go seek out Morrigan? I’m quite confident Hilda and I can handle ourselves, but this is something beyond anything I’ve yet prepared my apprentice for. I’m far more worried about how she is faring at the moment.”

“Understood. Master.”

With that, the shadow flitted up the wall and out of sight.

“So, guess we’re going for the snake, huh?” Hilda asked as she followed Death up the steps. He still seemed so out of place, scythe not even drawn yet, and dressed like an old man camped out for a yard sale. The fact that he was nothing but a skeleton under the casual attire was a constant cognitive mismatch as she looked at him, but she was somehow getting used to it.

As they continued up the stairs, another oddity messed with her perception. She could hear her feet hitting the steps, but there was no echo as there should have been in this empty stairwell.

Then, as they twisted upward one story after another, all these minor oddities became the least of her concerns.

The wall above them had a hole in it, as if a bomb had blown part of it off, except there were no scorch marks or debris lying around. It was more like pieces had decided to break off in chunks and then float away. There was some torn wire hanging upwards and dangling opposite of how gravity should be affecting it as it pointed towards a cosmic sky beyond.

“Woah, what the hell is that?” Hilda froze in place and rubbed her eyes as she took it in. The sky was multicolored, with tiny stars flickering as far as her eyes could see, but there were also giant fireballs and twirling spiral galaxies, slowly rotating like she was looking at them through real-time images from a space telescope.

“We’re currently in negative space. Think of it as a pocket of existence that sits adjacent to our world, but also other worlds.”

“Does that mean I’m seeing other worlds right now?”

“Indeed.”

“Holy shit… That’s incredible.”

“Ah, but is it any more incredible than seeing stars in the night sky?”

“Yeah, I’d say just a tad at least,” Hilda said, raising an eyebrow.

Death chuckled. “Well, whenever you are stargazing, you are more or less looking at other worlds, just as you are now. Except now you’re doing it through the lens of negative space. But come along, why don’t we keep moving forward as we discuss it?”

“Ah, yeah. Let’s do it,” Hilda said, shaking off her amazement and gripping her staff. They had a pretty serious reason for being here right now, after all. But as they continued up the stairs and passed another good-sized hole in the wall for Hilda to peek out of, she couldn’t help the questions flooding through her mind.
“So, witch magic more or less comes from the stars, which, like you just said, are technically other worlds…” Hilda mused.

“Indeed,” Death agreed.

“So I’m just wondering if it would be possible to harness magic from this place as well.”

“I’d say it is certainly possible. Though it would be a different kind of magic than the type you are familiar with. And, as I’m sure you might surmise, the same stipulation of attuning yourself to it would apply.”

Hilda grinned. “So now I know of reaper magic and witch magic—or star magic, to be more exact—but what could I call this? Negative magic? Wait, actually, do you know of anyone who is attuned with it?”

“Hmmm, I’d say some demons perhaps are. As far as humankind goes, I don’t believe there have ever been any attuned to ‘nagative’ magic, as you say, in any meaningful way. The only reason witches such as yourself and your ancestors exist is because of thousands of years of fascination with the stars and nature, rigorous study, and the desire that leads to discovery. Generation after generation built on what has come before, allowing them to find more uses of magic and grow the baseline attunement of their descendants to come.”

“Hm, so you’re saying I probably won’t be able to do anything meaningful with negative magic even if I tried, huh?”

“Beginning to form the foundations of what others who come after you may build upon may be possible, and such an achievement would hardly call meaningless. However, to cast spells with it in your own lifetime would be absolutely impossible.”

Hilda felt a little disappointed at that. It was a vague disappointment that clawed at the edge of her mind. She felt a similar cycle of emotion when it had been confirmed to her that reapers use different magic than witches. At first excitement about the endless possibilities of a whole other form of magic existing, then the crushing realization that she couldn’t actively harness and manipulate it herself, no matter how hard she tried. Although through Morrigan, she had gotten the itch scratched at least a little bit. Morrigan was a reaper; she was primarily attuned to reaper magic, but she was already using glamor (though with a little help from Hilda’s charm), so the possibility of her one day combining the two magics into something new was at least a vague hope in Hilda’s mind. She could find at least some satisfaction in living vicariously through Morrigan’s experiences for as long as she knew Morrigan and helped her dabble in the much more familiar witch magic.

“Besides, Hilda, witch magic itself is already so vast, and there is so much room for you to grow, even at the impressive skill you already possess at your age. I do believe there is a lifetime of discovery available to you on the path you already walk.”

Hilda grinned. “Yeah, you’re right about that, but you know how it is. Can’t help but at least think about it, you know? Kind of crazy to think no matter how much you discover and learn, there is always something else out there you have no idea about.”

“Yes, many things in life are like this. I might posit that it is the same for reading books. Even in all my years and the countless number I’ve read, there are far, far more that I haven’t read, and new ones are being written every day. To have true and full completion in any pursuit would require the universe itself to stand still.” Death stopped at the next story and stared at an open doorway before them. His voice suddenly took on a graver tone. “And I for one, would much prefer that it did not…”

Hilda nodded and got herself focused again. They weren’t here to discuss philosophy or ponder over the vastness of the universe. They were here to kill a demon, and based on Death’s sudden shift, it was clear they were close.

The hallways beyond at first looked like a normal apartment hallway with a red carpet, but several yards in, it began to twist ever so slightly, like in a funhouse. Further down the hall, the distortion only grew more immense, and at the very end, Hilda saw a spot of the ceiling breaking off with chunks that floated away into the cosmic space beyond.

“Let me take the lead, Hilda. I will appreciate your support, but remember that of the two of us, I am the only one who cannot die. So be sure to proceed with caution.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me twice.” Hilda grinned. “As it turns out, I do in fact kinda want to live a long time.”

“Your perspective of a long time, I imagine, is quite different than mine, but I’m glad you understand the gravity of the situation.” Death then reached to the side, a blue spear of light shooting from between his skeletal hand until it formed his scythe. He then marched forward into the twisted hallway, Hilda following close behind.

The second she stepped through the threshold, she felt her warning charm vibrate against her chest. She reflexively grabbed it through her shirt and held it tight, feeling the pulse continue through her hand. “That snake demon thing has some serious evil intent,” Hilda muttered.

“Indeed. It has become a rare thing for a demon to be so bold as to seek victims and station itself in the middle of a city like this. Unless it is of a mindless type and acting purely on instinct, it would be well aware that behaving in this way would quickly draw the attention of reapers.”

“And I’m guessing you’re not thinking this one is mindless, huh?”

“Certainly not. The structure of its domain is far too complex. Yet, I wonder just why it feels so confident as to do this. In this day and age, it is rare…” His words trailed off momentarily until taking an even more serious edge. “No, this kind of bold demon behavior is the likes of which I have not seen in many thousands of years.”

“Think it knows we are here?” Hilda asked.

“Perhaps.”

Hilda eyed each door they passed suspiciously, having the feeling that something could charge out of one of them at any second and attack. Then, she noticed another oddity, that the numbering on the doors had no rhyme or reason.

One was marked 42, then the next F12. Once Hilda noticed this, she couldn’t help herself from checking each one. 23A was across the hall from TBD, and next to TBD was 13. Then, she saw one labeled 666, and stopped in her tracks.

“What is it?” Death asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Maybe I’m just being superstitious here, but 666?”

Death approached the door cautiously, his skull canting as if he were listening for any sounds on the other side. His skeletal hand reached for the knob, grabbed it carefully, then gave it a quick twist and a push before jumping back.

The door just creaked open undramatically, making the already comical dissonance of his wardrobe stand out even more as he looked prepared for an ambush. He and Hilda gave each other a glance and a nod, then approached.

Instead was a living room, the back wall torn apart and floating away into the cosmic void. Random pieces of furniture either tilted just barely off the floor or floated an inch or so to the side before touching a corner down again, everything moving in a slow drift as if they were balloons filled with just enough helium to not allow them to firmly plant against the ground. Then Hilda noticed a couch on the far left wall with a man sitting on it. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and on a long weekend, as he sat there in basketball shorts, a tank top, and a stubble of beard wrapping his cheeks and neck.

Hilda began to move forward to see if he needed help, but Death grabbed her shoulder. “Wait, Hilda,” he said softly.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

“I believe he is one of the demon’s victims, but I’m not sure there is much we could do for him at the moment. Even if we do snap him out of his trance, he would only become a burden for us.”

“So we’re just supposed to leave him?”

“I’m afraid so. But think of it this way. Our true goal here should be to eliminate whatever demon is responsible for all of this. Then you can set about tending to the victims. I’m hoping that in the latter part of our mission, my scythe will not be the main tool for providing them aid. However, creating extra burdens for ourselves before completing the first part may only lead to even greater loss of life.”

“Alright, yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Hilda took one last look at the guy, then backed out of the room as Death shut the door.

They continued down a hallway, and Hilda cautiously peeked into another door. This time she saw a mother and two children standing side by side and staring out into the cosmos, each every bit as still as the last man. Hilda gritted her teeth but closed the door. If she looked a second longer, she wouldn’t be able to keep herself from listening to Death’s advice. Before continuing, she checked the room number, Ff9. She figured maybe the room numbers really had no specific meaning after all, including 666, if they all just contained more of the demon’s hapless victims.

But then, her theory was put to the test again as she spotted another room number that drew her attention. Or rather, a room label.

Morrigan’s Room.

“The hell!?” Hilda hissed through her teeth. “Death, look.”

His skull canted as he looked around and quietly called, “Noir?” There was no answer. Death then continued to consider the door. “It could be a trap. If the demon is in control of what appears on these doors, then this is an obvious attempt to lure us in.”

“Yeah, but if Morrigan is in there and she’s in trouble…”

“Yes… I know…” Death responded under his not-breath.

Hilda reached through her collar to pull out her warning charm, and as she fed a little magic into it, it practically jumped out of her hand. “Holy crap. I never got a signal that strong before. Something’s definitely in there, Death.”

Death flicked his wrist slightly, bobbing his scythe, and its blue glow began shifting to red. He reached for the doorknob, listened, and once again quickly pushed it open with a short retreat.

From inside the room, they heard crying and someone muttering, “I can’t do this, I can’t do it, I can’t do it!”

Hilda instantly ran for the door, and then she saw Morrigan there in the middle of the room, crouched in a fetal position. Her hood was up and her white fingers, ungloved, cradled the back of her head as she rocked back and forth.

“Hey, Morrigan,” Hilda said, “You alright, kid? We’re here. We’re…”

She ignored her warning charm as she reached for Morrigan’s shoulder.

“Hilda! No!” Death suddenly shouted, but not before Morrigan suddenly shot her hand at Hilda’s wrist and grabbed hold.

Hilda gasped deeply, thinking, Oh shit—I’m dead.

Morrigan grabbed her with her bare hand, and not only that, but Morrigan then started laughing softly, her back bobbing up and down as she giggled.

“Hilda, that’s not Morrigan!” Death shouted as he sprinted across the room, swinging his scythe down and cutting right through not-Morrigan’s arm.

Hilda fell backwards, the hand still clinging to her. Morrigan rolled her head back and continued to laugh despite the blood spraying from the unjoined ends of her arm.

Death lifted his scythe again, preparing for a second swing across her body, but she let herself fall to the side in a roll, then her feet kicked off the ground, shooting her upwards and flipping through the air before landing with a straight posture a few yards away. She was still giggling, lips spread in a wide smile, and her hood shadowing her face enough to allow her red eyes to glow from under it. But as Hilda looked closer, it was incredibly obvious that this really was not Morrigan at all. It looked nothing like her, and not in the way the changeling demon was a wrong version of her—it was just flat out not her. More like someone cosplaying her.

Hilda looked at the severed hand still clenched around her wrist and tried to pull it off, but the fingers only tightened their grip. “Damn it… Hey, Death, I might have a problem here.” She yanked again, and the grip tightened further, now becoming painful, and not only that, heavier. “Ah! What the hell is this thing?!” she hissed through her teeth. Holding her arm up became a struggle, so she dropped down to a knee and let her hand touch the ground. Then, the white skin tone shifted, turning grainy like stone.

“Release her, demon,” Death said, taking a battle stance as he lifted his scythe.

The demon placed her remaining hand over her eyes and drew it down as if playing peekaboo. When the hand lifted her—or rather his—face was changed. It still wore Morrigan’s clothes and had the shape of her body, but the face was now like a wicked old man with a mean smile and his tongue sticking out. It kept giggling, but at least it didn’t sound like a girl anymore. Still, that face on a teen girl’s body was just plain creepy either way. The fact that it was still wearing Morrigan’s usual clothes—black pants, shoes, and hoodie—made it even worse.

“What does this mean?” Hilda asked. “Did something happen to Morrigan? Did he steal her body or something?”

“No, if I thought that were the case, I wouldn’t have lobbed off her arm so carelessly. In any case, you would have died instantly from her touch, at which moment I knew for sure this was not her body at all.”

Hilda gritted her teeth, still trying to pry the hand loose from her wrist, now attempting to peel back a finger but having no luck. Its grip kept getting tighter, and it kept getting heavier, now pinning her to the floor by her wrist. “So what the hell is going on!?”

“It’s more like an illusion, but these kinds of illusions typically require some kind of connection. A memory…”

“So it is using her somehow?” Hilda hissed through her teeth. The pain around her wrist was only getting worse, and her fingertips were going numb as circulation was cut off.

“No, more like it’s using us. While voidlings cannot find their reaper’s precise location, they always know what direction to head in, much like your tracking charms, I suppose. If Morrigan were anywhere near here, then Noir would be as well. That is the other reason I’m sure this demon is, in fact, simply using us to generate the illusion. It’s perhaps a mind reader.”

“Great…” Hilda said, now positioning both feet on the severed hand as best she could and pulling with all her body strength, but that was only hurting herself more.

“In any case, Hilda. It does seem you’ll be out of this fight. Hopefully, once I reap it, you’ll be free. If not, we’ll just have to figure out what to do from there.”

“Oh… yeah… No worries about me…” she hissed, still pulling with all her strength. “Take your time!”

“I appreciate your patience, Hilda. But fear not.” His scythe whistled through the air as he prepared to charge. “I plan to end this paltry façade posthaste.”