Chaos Theory

    The deep sound of a voice screaming in a foreign language wakes me from my ‘sleep’. I’ve spent the last few hours staring at the boarded ceiling, waiting for any reason to fall back to sleep. I pick up the odd device that wakes me, a small item enriched with magic, but is somehow a scientific artifact. Moving to the covered glazing, I pull back the screens to reveal the disrupted land before me…

    It’s a dreary day over the land. The people move slowly as they ready for the sunrise, and all the churches have yet to open. The farmers are already off to their farms, and the soldiers are outside preparing to train. Where I stand, farmless, weaponless, godless, and living through the unfortunate will of a friend, I see no smiles over the land.

    It’s the 128th day, the second tier of the seventh year. The transition brings too much hellfire, some people cannot go outside without being cursed with disease and burns. I’ve sat and contemplated one time on why the church doesn’t protect us, and it later leads to arguments with myself…

    ‘Myself’? As to assume that one who calls himself ‘faithless’ believes that nobody is watching over him? Perhaps, those closest to the gods are unable to see their actions? You often disguise yourself in these lies and, yet, constantly ask yourself the same question, “Where is god?”…

    … And the wrath continues. A dark figure who shares my face, shares my interests, but who’s heart is black as night, stands before me in my room. I can’t hide from you, you have me in your sights. Even when I run from you, you follow me to no ends. Yet, every time you stand before another, they don’t see you…

    Perhaps it’s because you see what others do not? You examine everything in life, process information, study in all that is magic, and in the works of the gods themselves, but you’ve not accepted me. I am forever by your side, and forever at your aid, but you refuse my help and squander it, like an ordinary child.

    I see what everyone else sees. I examine things as everyone else does. I am normal, I am healthy, and you always appear before me to tell me otherwise. I’m not ‘squandering’ your help, I’m refusing to accept that of your ‘assistance’, as it is obviously farce! You are an impostor, a form of magic that I am unable to discover. I’ve heard of curses that make people see things like you, but I know that revealing who you are will denote any progress I make in my magical research as ‘insanity’ and ‘lies’.

    Do you not see there’s a world around you full of insanity an lies? For once, a man, you, have true sense of mind. You just don’t believe yourself.

    It was at that moment when this being’s gaze looked away from mine, and he left me alone, to my thoughts. He does this quite often, and I’ve yet to come a conclusion as to how or why he leaves so… Abruptly. Well, the morning goes on…

    After cooking an unsatisfying meal with my burdened friends and colleagues, we expel ourselves out of the cooking area with similarly-described food. We are instructed by wizards and casters at this point that we are to like certain things, do certain activities, and only have fun when doing as such. I see most of my colleagues fall pray to this magic, and I, unfortunately, do, too.

    The race to the labs begins, many of those I board with stay, swimming in their own pains. I grab my wand and daybag, as well as put on the robes I’ve worn all my life, and head out the front gate of our cottage. I force the magics through my veins, pushing it out of my body like a thrust of strength, and force myself afloat.

    There I fly over the kingdom, over the carriages, through the tunnels and mines, enjoying the feeling of fresh air every time I fly faster, and slowing down to catch my breathe when exerting too much magics. The sun will rise fully by time I make it to the labs, slower than a stronger wizard can fly, but still cheaper than teleportation.