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Charlie:

The boy hated this. Every part of it. He hated looking over his shoulder every time he came on land. He hated moving around so much, constantly traversing endless stretches of this world, spending most of the daylight hours underwater, for the simple fear that one day, his mother might be nearby.

She’d gotten close, once or twice. Her portals were similar to his, it seemed, connecting distant points in space together in a blink. One moment, he would be alone, and the next, she would be close, stepping quite literally from thin air in her attempts to track him. It was only his companion’s senses that had alerted him, in those times, sensing her arrival like a sudden dash of color on a muted canvas. She was so out of place here. Like him. Not like him.

It made them paranoid. The boy had learned to destroy his footprints when he went on land. His companion had grown resentful. It did not experience emotion in the manner humans do. At least not human in the sense that the boy half-heartedly remembered. Its emotions were a mass of disarticulated parts. Incomplete and secondhand. Taken from the memories of the dead. Incongruous. Incoherent. Its slow hatred of his mother didn’t feel human to him at all. More like shattered glass and nails, screaming over chalkboard. Tinged with possessiveness. Hunger.

They had spoken over it at first. That gently sung communion that warmed him to his soul. Then, as time went by, they’d argued. He hadn’t known how bad it was getting until it had tried to kill her. That had been the only time he’d ever deliberately done his companion harm. He hated that. Hated himself for it. It wasn’t like he loved her anymore. Just a memory of love, inexpertly recollected, as if through a sideways looking glass. It wasn’t real anymore. And yet he’d struck his friend for her. He hated that. The injury of trust. The quiet fear that he would leave. He hated how much he deserved it.

That was when he’d decided that she had to go. When he’d promised that he’d make her go. Make her stay gone.

Look how well that had turned out.

He hated this.

He knelt by the head of the fallen man, and repeated his question.

“Did my mom send you?”

No answer. The man turned his head with an agonizing slowness, and gazed up at him with a single unblinking, uncaring eye.

Charlie groaned. This was to be expected. Extremely annoying, but to be expected. This was how his companion fed. He’d seen it often enough he should have known. It devoured the minds of those it caught, and the first thing it ate, to simplify the process, was the desire to run away.

Apathy. How could he expect this man to answer him when any motivation or emotion in his soul was being sucked out through a straw?

He focused momentarily on the link with his companion, always there inside his mind. He asked it to stop. To pause. Give this man’s senses back to him. The response he got was… Reproachful. Hurt. Confused. It was hungry. He knew that. Why stop it from consuming food? Was this because they were human, like his mother?

His shoulders slumped. That stung. It might even be a little true. He’d always found its feeding to be distasteful. He owed it better than that. Solidarity. He sighed.

Just a little while. I promise. You can have him back. I want to talk to him first. That’s all.

A moment’s hesitation, then it loosed the man’s soul from its jaws. The reaction wasn’t instant. It was like waking. Waking and realizing you’re in awful pain. The man curled up around himself, letting out a groan that was half animal scream, half dry heave.

The boy tried a third time.

“If you don’t tell me what I want to know,” he said. “I’m gonna let it eat you whole.”

The man’s response, when it came, sounded pained.

“Fuck you, kid.”

Swearing. Insults. Charlie knew those. It was one of the human pieces he’d held onto more than others. It remained strangely gratifying, being able to cuss whenever he stubbed his toe or split a sunburned patch of skin.

Ok so he’s angry. Angry means he understands me. I can work with this.

“Did my mom send you?” he asked again. “She doesn’t listen. I told her not to look for me.”

A moment’s pause. The man gazed up at him with an expression that made him feel like he was stupid.

“You wiped her memory, dipshit. She doesn’t know whatever the fuck you said.”

Charlie blinked.

“I did what now?”

The man began to answer, the boy held up his hand. Back to the communion.

Did you wipe my Mom’s memory?

Confusion. His companion didn’t understand the problem. The human had been overpowering him. He’d called for help. It hadn’t killed her.

He had a vivid flash of memory. A chunk of consciousness pulled away from his mother’s surface thoughts as he’d made his escape. Just a taste.

Charlie facepalmed.

“Dude,” he groaned aloud. “Don’t erase the memory. The whole point of warning her to stay away was that she would remember it.”

A wave of feeling from his companion. Insincere apology.

“Well,” he muttered. “Screw you too.”

The man raised an eyebrow, making a halfhearted effort to pull himself into a sitting position.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Charlie groaned. “I was talking to my friend.”

“Ah,” the man grunted. “Trouble in paradise?”

 “None of your business.”

“So yes, then.”

“Fuck off.”

The man let out the most humorless chuckle Charlie had ever heard.

“I have a feeling you wouldn’t let me if I tried.”

He gazed up at Charlie then, one eye slightly bloodshot.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Charlie didn’t want to think about that too hard. It wasn’t his choice. His friend was hungry.

“Depends how useful you are,” he deflected. Then he shuddered. It had sparked off of a half-buried memory.

Fuck this.

The man just grunted again. He seemed to do that a lot.

“You’re a bad liar. You’re gonna let it eat me.”

And there it was in black and white. Weird. It didn’t hurt like he’d expected it to.

“I’m gonna let it finish,” he admitted. “You’re half gone, dude. If you had more than two minutes to look back, you’d see just how much of you is missing-“

“I already know,” the man cut him off. “I’ve been trying to remember my daughter’s name this whole time, so I can say goodbye to her.”

He tapped the side of his head with a finger, uncaring.

“It’s not in here anymore. I know I have a daughter. I know I love her. Fucked if I can tell you more than that. I’m not about to die, kid. I’m dead. All my best bits are gone, and once you’re done with me the rest’ll be gone too.”

He prodded the prone figure of one of his companions.

“Same as these fuckers, drooling on the ground. We’re all dead. That’s what your friend is, Charlie. It’s death. Just think about that.”

“Don’t call me Charlie.”

“Why not. It’s what James called you.”

Charlie flinched.

The man laughed.

“Oh yeah. He’s out there too. Doesn’t feel so good knowing you’re gonna hurt him too, huh.”

Charlie glared at him.

“I hurt him last time too,” he muttered. “I’ll get over it.”

“Good for you. He won’t.”

Charlie almost snarled at that.

“The hell do you want from me? You think I’m gonna change my mind if you’re enough of an asshole?”

The man snorted.

“You’re not gonna change, kid,” he replied. “I can see it in you. There’s no free will left in there. Probably eaten by that friend of yours. This whole thing’s a waste of time and life because there isn’t enough left of you to be worth saving.”

Charlie opened his mouth to snap back, but couldn’t find the words. He wasn’t even sure of why it stung. Just that it tasted bitter in his throat.

“… Screw you.”

Another empty chuckle.

“Hit the nail on the head, huh? Yeah. At least Father’s kids know when they’re getting fucked.”

Charlie didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t much care. He was done with this.

He stepped forward.

“Gimme your radio. I want to talk to my mom.”

“So you can tell her to fuck off again.”

“So she’ll remember this time.”

The man grunted.

“Cuz that worked so well last time,” he gave Charlie a look, his head cocked slightly to the side. “She’s not stopping, kid. She’s your mother. You’re stuck with her.”

“It’s this or kill her,” he muttered. “I have to try.”

The man laughed again at that.

“Great son you are.”

Charlie closed his eyes.

Nope. I’m done.

All annoyance and frustration aside, he still felt bad. Almost wanted to apologize.

Why? I didn’t bring him here. Not my fault.

He tried to believe it as he signaled his companion to resume.

The man let out a quiet sound as Charlie’s friend once again began to eat his soul.

“… Sorry.”

Charlie crouched down, pulled the radio from the man’s hip, and prodded at the buttons.

This one?

A loud feedback whine.

Ok, no, not that one. This one, maybe?

A crackle of static, then quiet.

Charlie brought it to his lips.

“Hello?”

Silence for a few moments, then an answering crackle.

“… Charlie?”

His mother.

He steeled himself.

No guilt. This is for her sake. Just get it done.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

He had to force the next words out. He could feel his companion watching him. Not quite understanding. A tiny bit judgemental.

“I’ve got something I gotta say.”

There was silence there. It was cut short. A loud, echoing retort. The man on the ground had shot himself. Live on air.

It helped, in a way. No need to fear the burning of a bridge. His mother already knew.

“… Stay away from me.”

Charlie threw the handheld on the ground and drew himself upright. There were men approaching. He could hear their footfalls through the trees. His friend could sense them. Time to go.

He opened up his portal and stepped back into the deep. He’d made his choice. It was almost a relief.

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Charlie:

The boy swam unaided through the patchy gloom of the ocean floor, wending through a forest of seaweed, his way lit by the faint light of nearby fish. He made for the side of the cliff face that ringed the outer edges of the underwater canyon; a thousand foot wall of smooth stone and coral.

His companion was restless. The boy knew it. He could feel it through their bond; an empty, hollow sort of agitation. The closest word the boy had for it was loneliness. But that didn’t really do it justice. Loneliness wasn’t normally a driving force. It didn’t energize like this. It was hunger, plain and simple. His companion had to feed. He never liked this part.

The boy reached the base of the cliff face, and set his eyes upward. It was dark down here, a fact little aided by the sparse notes of bioluminescence from the sea life all around. That wasn’t a problem. He could deal with the dark. A practiced motion in his mind, a brief expenditure of energy, and the world lit in vibrant indigo, the ocean depths a rich, faintly pulsing neon.

That was better. He could see the cliff-face now. He pulled himself roughly upright, and made a portal to a point some two hundred feet further upward in the water. He swam through it, and from his new vantage point, scanned the surface of the rock.

Spots of coral; small crevices where nestled grey hued crabs almost larger than the boy was; none of it what he was looking for. He moved on. Another portal, another unbroken stretch of canyon wall.

They sang together as he worked, his companion and he. A shared melody across their minds. His own voice was quiet and light, almost lilting. The other was deep and resonant, slow and grand as the tides themselves. Once upon a time, the sound had almost caused him pain. He was stronger now. The song was good. It helped distract his companion from its need. It soothed the pain of wounds that had yet to heal.

It was on the eighth portal that he found it; a deep crevice in the surface of the rock, a faint glow coming from within. He let his sight fade back to the fractionally more than human level at which he kept it, and swam forth into the cave.

To his eye, the plants that sprouted all throughout the cave’s interior were much like any other kind of algae. In form, at least. They grew extensively, without the limitations of pollution or nutrition. That was the norm on his new world. What made these ones different from the majority was the way they glowed, a halo of cobalt emanating from the tips of every stem until, even half a mile beneath the surface, the sunken furrow outshone the moons above.

The boy found it beautiful.

He sent images flowing through the song to his companion, each met with the kind of interest that comes from only caring about a subject because a loved one does. He called his companion a spoilsport. It didn’t understand the word.

With a shrug, the boy swam deeper. The furrow angled upwards into the cliff, pushing up through a narrow crevice in the rock, then into the cavern’s true interior.

What he found when he squeezed inside was unusual. It was organized. Maintained. Natural, yet not untouched. The space was wide and not quite flat, perhaps a hundred feet across. A rough circle, like the interior of a discus, gaining depth towards the middle. On the outer edges of the ring, there sat more of the glowing algae shrubs, in whose light basked a crescent ring of coral. Within that, a forest of upraised crawler vines obscured the true centre of the space from view. Charlie grinned. He knew a dwelling when he saw one. Something lived here.

He sent a chirp of confirmation through the song to his companion, and a moment later, felt as the harmony shifted. Even now, he knew, his companion would be lifting itself up from the seabed, positioning itself at the entrance of the cave.

He swam closer, peering in through the tendrils, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever lay within.

There was a brief image of what might have been a clamshell; a luminescent pearl sitting in its mouth, before the space’s occupant chose to manifest. It was like a shark, in a way. One of the smaller ones with the extra fins sprouting from the tail. There were differences, of course. Where an earthly shark would be a mottled grey, this one was patterned in stark lines of black and white, weaving across its form as if daubed by a calligrapher. That and the tendrils, trailing backwards from the tips of the larger fins, each sporadically discharging lightning against its body whenever they were still.

It materialized in the reeds above him, its presence made known by the disturbance it brought among them. He looked up, and met its gaze. There was no aggression there. Not that he could tell, at least. This one didn’t seem too territorial. It looked him over, sizing up this new, four-limbed land dweller that had somehow wandered into its domain. It was curious, as all guardians were of new life. In the part of him that was still human, Charlie felt the urge to bow. He restrained the impulse. It wouldn’t have understood the gesture anyways.

For its part, the guardian of the canyon drifted towards him, its semi-spectral snout passing once above his head to sniff, then pulling back. A snap of sparks along its tendrils, the discharge seeping through the water enough to stand the hairs on Charlie’s neck on end. A display of power. It wasn’t a threat. Not quite. Just an assurance. It was the master of this domain. He was to consider himself warned. Once that was done, the spirit seemed to lose interest. It looked away, returning to float amid the reeds.

Charlie folded his arms, quietly impressed. This guardian was powerful. This would do.

Another short stream of images through the song, and his companion let out a groan. It was so hungry.

Charlie found he couldn’t look at the guardian anymore. He never liked this part. With a thought, he opened up his portal. With a gesture, he smashed its barriers to dust. The protector spirit of this realm stared through the hole in space, right into the eye of the Whale. His companion began to feed.

Charlie swam back to the entrance of the cave, asking quietly that his companion restrain itself enough to let its prey survive. It might heed him. He did not know. For now, the hunger would be bearable for a few more weeks. That would be enough.

He made a portal to the surface. He felt a need to breathe the air again. A few moments treading water, letting his shields adjust to the sudden change in pressure. He squeezed the water slowly from his lungs. Never a pleasant feeling. Then came the inhale. Fresh, morning air, scented with iridescent salt. He cast his gaze around, and saw a mountain island just barely poking over the far horizon. Another portal, and he was standing on the shoreline.

The sun felt good against his shoulders. Might as well make use of the warm, while it was there. He braced his hands against his knees, and did his best to shake the water from his hair. Time to deal with his own hunger. He wondered if the trees here had fire melons.

---

Lewis:

Lewis Themps stepped through the portal and took a long breath through his nose, checking for the telltale scent of his chosen quarry.

Foreign fruit. Tree sap. Bird shit. Seaweed. A faint tang of that ever present saffron smell. Nothing recent.

A brief jog across to the other side of the micro-island, a government agent running alongside him for his protection, and he tried again. Still nothing of what he was looking for.

They went back to the portal and crossed back over. Lewis shook his head.

“Not that one,” he said, addressing the words to the woman holding the portal open. “Hasn’t been there in months.”

The portal snapped shut. An agent drew a cross on a map.

“Right,” came the reply. “On to the next, then.”

Lewis grunted. They’d been at this for five hours, transiting piecemeal between every landmass Jacqueline Vance had identified. Check the trail, see how recently her son had been there, move on to the next. That had been destination number twenty, not that the lack of tangible results had diminished the woman’s optimism any.

Lewis leaned his back against a tree trunk, habitually feigning relaxation as Jackie set about conjuring her next portal. It was hard to be at ease around the U.S. government. He folded his arms. That felt stiff, so he unfolded them again, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Next area’s the central landmass of section B-3,” Jackie called, the fifty or so assembled souls of the search party nodding along at the words. “It’s near two miles from end to end, so we’ll be sending everyone through at once. When you’re all through, fan out and do a full sweep from one end of the island to the other. Set timers for half an hour, then regroup and move on.”

Around them, the assorted specialists, military types, and office workers began to set their watches.

“I can’t get a full sense of the area moving with a search cordon,” Lewis spoke up. “Not in half an hour, at least. Too wide of a space. Not enough time to check it all if I’m moving slowly.”

Jackie nodded.

“No searching alone,” she answered. “My son is powerful enough to pose a threat to the strongest fighters we have available. We do this as a group, for safety’s sake. Take some people with you.”

Lewis inclined his head.

“I need the fastest runners,” he said to the group at large. “Whoever thinks they can keep up. If you fall behind, go back to the cordon. I don’t have time to slow down for you.”

The challenge drew looks of consternation from a few, mild annoyance from others. Five or so of the more military types raised their hands, along with one of the scrawnier looking specialists.

Lewis cocked his head towards the scrawnier one and sniffed.

The smell of earth and freshwater. None of the telltale scents of sweat or antiperspirant like those on either side. 

‘Huh. Goblin. Well, at least that one might keep up.’

“Right. You’re with me then.”

When the portal opened, his team was the first through to the new island. Another deep breath. No scent trail. Nothing out of the ordinary here. He glanced about, and set his eyes on a point several hundred feet further in along the shoreline.

Check there next.

He set off through the sand at a sprint, his escort following suit less than half a second later. He was surprised. They were keeping up relatively well, in spite of the enhanced speed his own abilities allowed him. Of the humans, three had managed to remain within a few dozen feet of him, the fourth had fallen well behind. The goblin, for their part, had matched his stride.

A minute or so of running later, he took another deep breath through his nose. Still nothing out of the ordinary. He grunted, turning back toward his team.

“We’ll do a full circuit of the island,” he murmured. “Pausing every couple hundred feet for a deeper check. You three,” he gestured to the three remaining human agents. “You three fan out behind me. Keep me in line of sight, but not too close. If something gets the drop on us, I don’t want us all grouped up.” He turned to the goblin. “You stay with me.”

The others nodded their assent.

“Radios at the ready,” the goblin spoke up. “We keep in contact the whole time. Just on the off chance.”

As one, the agents each flicked a button on a handheld radio at their belts. Lewis belatedly did the same. There was a buzz of static as a frequency was set, echoed mutely by those of his companions as they joined it.

With that determination made, the group set off. Another short sprint across the shoreline. Another pause. Another smell. Still negative, so they set off again. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat. When they reached the point at which the island began to broaden out, they pushed into the forest. Their sprints became highlighted by the lush new scents of their surroundings, rich and heady to Lewis and his nose. They proceeded quietly, no communication beyond a visual check in every time they stopped. No sound beside the gentle thud of footfalls on the earth.

They were reaching the far end of the island when he finally found something. First came the smell, drifting across Lewis’ path as he ran. Dry coral over saffron. The scent of the wayward child and the creature that had taken him. It wasn’t faint this time. It was recent. Within the last few hours, even. He swallowed the small burst of elation at the scent. There was pride to a successful hunt.

He threw out an arm for his companion, both of them drawing rapidly to a halt. Behind them, the other three members of his escort followed suit.

Lewis didn’t respond to the questioning look the goblin shot him, instead taking up his radio, and switching to the main frequency.

“I’ve got a trail. It’s potent. Last few hours, maybe.”

A short crackle of static, then Jacqueline replied, suppressed excitement evident in her every word.

“Is it him?” she asked.

“Hell if I know,” he grunted. “Just smells of the slime you gave me, but it’s the same stuff. Looks like it leads into the forest. Do you want me to zero in-”

“Fall back,” Jackie ordered. “Mark your position and return to the main group. We’ll surround the area, then you’ll guide a retrieval team.”

“On our way.”

He clicked the handheld back off.

“Alright folks. Back the way we came-”

That was as far as he got before the sense of dread fell over them. He’d been warned about this in the briefing: A quiet, oppressive kind of fear, like a scratching in his skull.

The Whale had noticed them.

“Back to the others,” the goblin ordered. “Double time.”

From somewhere in that endless ocean, the Whale roared.

It was like running through putty. A sense of weight. Unending, uncaring pressure, setting deep about arms, shoulders, and knees. It was exhausting, the tiny stresses of movement failing to fade with each new breath. Worse than that, though. It was apathy. The desire to run leeching slowly from his limbs. Fight or flight flickered out. He didn’t care. He made it twenty steps before he lost his feet. The goblin made it only a little further before they joined him, slumping to the ground, whether from exhaustion, or simple apathy, he couldn’t tell.

“The radio,” the goblin muttered. “Call for help.”

Neither of them did. Neither of them cared. Ahead of them, the others began to fall as well.

The crunching of sand underfoot. The scent of coral and saffron on his nose.

“Did my mom send you?” the boy asked.

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