Chapter 1: In the Jungle

“She is bold. She is daring. She puts others before herself. Those are her strengths, but she also has weaknesses, namely...

She is bold. She is daring, and she puts others before herself.”

Excerpt from the diary of Panpar

Just seeing the trees was knowing the world was different—nothing was the same on this side of both veils, and if the trees were different, there may be other things different too. The trees stood like giants towering above with waving hands attached to massive arms, but those arms weren’t straight like roads. The arms of the massive trees curled about, making massive loops, before stretching further on. The leaves of the trees more like green rafts, as if they belonged on a river, instead of in a tree and the ridges in the bark of the trees were deep and prominent. A person could fit their entire hand in between each valley of the bark, possibly even their forearm.

Whitney was dreaming and she knew it, even as she floated through the forest that seemed like a jungle as foreign to her as any jungle could be. She could sense shadows around her, some familiar (one of them being her own) but most of them as foreign to her as the jungle. She had both her sight and the shadows, which was a weird combination, something that didn’t happen when she wasn’t dreaming, but the shadows of people weren’t the only shadows around her. There were also the shadows of the mountains as they sat observant over the jungle, like shoulders of wise men watching over things. The only question was whether or not the wise men were watching over the things that were happening, as protectors, or if they were watching things just for the sake of watching them.

The sky was still blue, but not the same shade of blue she was used to and the color reminded her of smoke, maybe because there was smoke in the air, weaving its way through the branches. The sky had a slightly more purplish hue to it, the sun still orange but a darker shade of orange, coloring it more like a blood orange, and she knew why she was there. She could hear the voices of those who she was supposed to see in her dream, but she hesitated to look. There were voices coming from behind her, angry arguing voices that were under a lot of stress and one of those voices belonged to herself. The self that had never been to Missouri before, and to look at the origin of that voice would be like admitting to herself that Whitney Leighton didn’t really exist, as if seeing it would erase her own existence. She turned the self that had no body to look anyway.

“Heading out to face the Shooktah directly is not a good idea, Jo-Laina. We may be outnumbered a hundred to one!” one member of the group said. The woman speaking was freakishly tall, standing at least seven full feet. Her skin was a very light grey, her hair bright silver, as if she were attending a rave, and she had two circles tattooed around her eyes, giving her face a masked look. She was wearing a bright blue skintight outfit. If the material were any other color, Whitney would have sworn it was leather, but it also had a metallic look to it. She had a sword strapped to her back, knives around her waist and chest, and a cable with two balls on either end, dangling from her hip. Her boots rode high on her legs and there were horns sticking out the front and back of them, just like the ones Jo-Vanna had worn when she saw her in the grey. Nevertheless, the most striking thing about the woman was her ears. She had three finger–like appendages sticking up from the top ridge.

Jo-Viel, her name is Jo-Viel and she became my mentor even though the first time I saw her she wanted to kill me, to execute me and rid the world of my tainted blood, because here I am the Baran-Dak-Toi.

Jo-Viel had become much more to that other self than just an executioner. She had become her mentor even though she was subordinate in rank. She was more experienced and more trained and her other self had recognized and respected that.

“Your objection has already been noted, Jo-Viel. I respect your opinion, but I demand you only give it once!” Jo-Laina replied to her. Her voice was proud and sure. There was no room for doubt or question when she spoke, as if she were a general delivering an order, expecting her subordinates to follow it without questioning. Whitney supposed that’s exactly what her other self expected.

What would be goose bumps, on what would have been her arms, raised as a tickle ran down her spine, and butterflies swam in her stomach as she soaked in what, at one point, had been she, as she walked with her group. She had no actual memory of whatever event this was, but she did have a déjà vu sense of it. Jo-Laina walked with a confidence she didn’t think she could muster. Her silver eyes stared blankly in front of her, yet revealed deep penetration, as if she were seeing everything in front of her. Whitney knew she was not seeing anything at all and yet she couldn’t shake that impression as she watched the girl in her view walk. This version of herself also wore an outfit similar to the one Jo-Viel wore. The difference between the two was the one she was wearing was all black from head to toe. She was wearing two swords instead of just one but the rest of her weaponry was the same. Jo-Laina also had a whip on one hip, and the same tattoo around her eyes, another of a lightning bolt on her cheek and scars on her face and neck.

“Your overconfidence is going to get us all killed,” Jo-Viel added despite the warning.

“Then may our blood add life to the forest,” Jo-Laina retorted.

The two of them were not alone. There was another warrior walking behind. If this warrior were naked, his skin would have blended perfectly with the deep, rich bark of the trees. His eyes were fully brown, not a stitch of white or any other color, and his hair was the color of leaves. He walked solidly, gracefully, as if the world was a ship requiring constant rebalancing, carrying a bow, knocked and ready, bent slightly forward and on the lookout. He wore armor instead of a body suit. His armor was solid black metal consisting of a Plackart, Faulds, and Cuisse as well as a round shield mounted to his back.

The most majestic of their group was not human at all.

Whitney had no name for this creature. It had the mane of a lion, but not the color. His mane, deep and lively maroon, which matched the theme of its scaled body. Each of his scales was large, beginning with maroon, but blending into a deeper purple. His tail was long, thick and flicked back and forth behind him as he walked, slinging the sharp spear at the end as if he were ready to strike. His face was a dog, but wasn’t. A bear accompanied the dog in him as if the two were long life friends, resembling each other.

“It’s the human in her, -Jo-Viel! She can’t help but jump from cliffs without looking for water below first! Humans never think before they act. They just charge with their eyes closed, like mud bats banging into cave walls!” he said, and if Whitney had been standing there, instead of floating without her body attached, she would have fainted.

Because the voice that spoke belonged to Tommy.

A terrifying scream arced through every branch, tearing through the leaves as if to seek shelter from an unseen oppressor. Another scream quickly followed, trailed by barbaric laughter. It was the scream of a woman, and was a scream of agony, and the laughter mocked those screams as if they were entertaining.

Every member of the group shared a knowing glance between themselves, but none of them spoke, and as much as it looked like they wanted to quicken their pace, they didn’t dare to, continuing their slow and quiet pace.

I didn’t think there were any more stragglers left. Whitney heard Jo-Viel think to Jo-Laina as Jo-Viel reached out and grabbed her arm.

Neither did I, Jo-Laina answered and her answer was accompanied by angry yet, deep seated pain and regret as if she had just lost a dear friend, and Whitney didn’t get the sense this past version of herself knew the owner of those screams.

“I love the way the Humans scream!” a voice cut through the evening air. The voice, low-pitched and rumbling its way through the forest as if it came from a diesel engine instead of someone speaking. “Make her scream again. I could listen to that sound all day.”

The woman screamed out again, making the teeth Whitney didn’t have ice over as if they were chattering in the cold. The group hushed themselves against a humongous tree trunk and slowly peered into a clearing beyond.

A human girl, held upright by two giant (the word Shooktah surfacing in her mind as she viewed them) Shooktah by arms that were clearly shattered in many places, standing on legs that weren’t in much better shape. She stared at her captors with begging eyes. Eyes met with a complete lack of mercy as a third Shooktah pointed his staff toward her stomach, ready to inflict even more damage.

There were many more Shooktah surrounding the three in the center of the clearing. All of them were watching intently with wide, interested eyes.

Jo-Laina didn’t wait to see what was going to happen next. She grabbed the bow of the tree-skinned man, drew back, and let the arrow fly. Whitney expected to see one of the Shooktah fall, but none did. The arrow was Jo-Laina’s way of answering the woman’s plea for mercy, and she had found the mercy she was seeking.

Whitney tried to scream out but her bodiless form was also mouthless and no sounds filled the air. Before she could completely grasp what just happened The Shooktah were turning to their direction, and the group was retreating. Jo-Laina took the lead; handing the bow back off to its owner and making quick work of getting out of there. As they began to high tail it through the forest, green balls of flames chased after them, followed closely by the Shooktah.

“Don’t let them escape!” one of the Shooktah called out. “They’ve killed our entertainment!”

Whitney could hear the footfalls of their pursuers as her group raced ahead of her. She had no control of how fast she followed behind them. Her presence and perception dictated by unknowable factors. All she knew was she could feel the Shooktah closing in and her nonexistent back was hot with their breath.