Day 4: A Story of Misfortune

Unlucky / Spreaders

I climbed on top of the highest mountain in the world. Night enveloped everything before me, yet I could tell the blackness of the sky from the blackness of the land, for the sky was speckled with innumerable stars poised above even me.
They burned with brilliant gold, turning ever brighter and bigger. In the end, I saw they were not stars at all. They were dragons. Majestic beasts with armour of shimmering gold. They dove and soared and frolicked throughout their celestial domain. The true extent of their vastness and brilliance was revealed when their monumental bodies drew trails of golden light across the sky. They were like nothing I ever saw, like islands in size. Their presence bestowed light on the land before me, granting it twilight, and then daylight immediately after.
The long grass shimmered in gold. It stretched endlessly towards the horizon, climbing the length of mountains like the one upon which I perched.
Some of them flew only a hair length above me. Their bodies cast light instead of shadows. But I wasn’t scared. Seeing them move freely through the open skies made me happy. It made me wish I could do that as well. Made me think I could. I wore a golden robe with large flowing sleeves. I reached towards the skies with my arms, flailing them up and down. My chest was gripped by a lightness. Everything that held me back was about to be left far behind.
“I feel I’m going to transcend.”
Those were my last words as a human. I felt the transformation envelop my body. The gold spread along my skin. Beyond my skin. The earth was just another thing lying beneath me.
I belonged to the heavens.

Then I woke up.
Face first in the week old hay that made up my bed. Dry and crisp. Was itchy as all hell. Just as it had been when I went to sleep. Just as it had been every time I went to sleep then woke up for the past year and a half. Ever since they tossed me in that pit.
Same cramped cell. Same bedbugs. Same old rusted bucket in the corner that stank with a month’s worth of piss.
So familiar I could dance to it.
Still, it all felt more like a dream than the dream I had.

Dreams don’t matter once your eyes open. I know that. Probably better than anyone. Still, couldn’t shake off the feeling I had that dream for a reason. I’d never get anything done. Not as long as I kept pushing it off.
Guess I had ****. I had to figure out what’s up with that dream. And there was only one man for the job.

“So, yeah. That’s the scoop, Sage.”
Sage was the resident soothsayer of Tartaros. Old dude. Had an enormous bloated body. Much bigger and fatter than you’d suppose was possible. Think eight people stuffed into one garb. He had this rancid stench about him. Like tobacco and rotten onions. Seemed to come directly from his insides. One of his eyes bulged out of his socket like a berry. The other one sank into his skull. Neither was working well. But where others could see, he understood.
“Yes.” He chuckled as he started speaking, “That certainly is a perplexing image. No doubt a dream like that could make an astounding impact. Even on someone such as yourself, Missy.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” I answered, “Can’t get it out of my head. It’s stupid, but apparently this is something I gotta deal with. So… You’re the Sage. Tell me, can you make heads or tails of that dream?”
“Well,” He puffed up his chest, “I haven’t yet encountered a riddle beyond the scope of my reckoning. But you know how it is here at Tartaros. Nothing comes for free. An answer for an answer. That is as reasonable as it gets.”
“Fine. I’ll bite. What you wanna know?”
“Tell me… How did someone of your… Colourful character come by a name like ‘Missy’?”
“...Not much of a Sage if you gotta ask me that, are you?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps I merely indulge myself the musings of discovering a secret the way common people do. So? Will you relay as much?”
“Not much an exciting secret I’m afraid. It’s the name I chose for myself. Short for Misfortune.” I answered promptly.
“Ah… I didn’t take you for one who would blame fortune for your predicament.”
“Blame? Nah, that’s not how I’d put it. Just was never what I needed. You know, there’s the lucky ones. The ones that got a warm bed and two meals a day as kids. Went to school. Got a job from mommy and daddy. Me? Never was that lucky. And when you lack fortune, you gotta rely on your wits and your skills and your instincts to survive. There’s not a second of my life I haven’t earned through my own strength.”
The folds of Sage’s bloated face contorted into a smile, “And… So is this where you aspired to take yourself with your strength? The depths of Tartaros? Perhaps then I would rather remain weak.”

Can't say he didn't have a point.
Whenever someone can’t behave, they’re tossed in prison. Whenever someone can’t behave in prison, they’re tossed in a deeper prison. And so on.
At the bottom of all this, there’s Tartaros. No one sets their foot in there if there’s so much as a corner on the surface of this wide world where they’re safe to keep. Honestly, it’s quite an honour for me. But…
“Let’s see how things will turn out, hmm?” I said.
“Oh, I wasn’t complaining. In fact, the name you selected for yourself rather suits you. I dare say it's even more appropriate than you realize.”
“Cause I’m a crook who ended up in this dump?”
“Because those who get close to Misfortune never turn out well.”
I chuckled, “Just goes to show, they shoulda been more like me to begin with. Now, you’ve gotten your answer. How about you cough up what I’m due.”

“Very well. Very well. So you want to know about your dreams, Missy? Dreams can take you far and wide. To worlds beyond imagination. Yet they never stray from the nature of those who dream.”
Sage rested his hands on the table between us. Palms facing up.
“Might I borrow your hand? Just for a second? I promise I won’t take it far.”
I reached my hand over to him without hesitation. Already gave him my story. What’s he gonna do with my hand that’s worse?
He enveloped my palm between his sausagey fingers, running them across its length. He pressed hard along the furrows and lumps across my skin.
Never in a million years would I let a guy touch me like that, but Sage… Many things can be said about him, few of which are flattering. But he ain’t like that. His face, decayed with maturity, seemed to glow with a nearly childlike glee. His expression really was that of an explorer on a journey, shifting from worry to curiosity to amusement.
“Oh… Oh, I see.” He almost whispered, locking his static gaze in my general direction.
“Spit it out, Sage. I’m not here for games.”
He let go of my hand, and I pulled it away.
“Dreams.” He started, “Dreams can act as the battlefield between actuality and potentiality. What you are… And what you could be. All things can change, and they eventually do. People are no exception. Yet they always and only change according to their potential to do so.”
“You are saying that I… Long to change?” What a load. I am proud of what I am.
“In a sense. Yes. Though it is far more than some vulgar preference. The one who calls herself Misfortune has within herself a potential to become something far greater. Far more sublime. For in the right circumstances, your dream can become reality.”
I blinked, “The fuck does that mean? Cause it sounds like you’re saying I can turn into a dragon.”
“Ah, that is it precisely.” He said without a moment’s delay, “There is magic in the world. Magic that can compel the form of oneself or others, yet the form of dragons elude even the most magnanimous of mages. Unless, of course, the potential rests within them. A talent for transformation if you will. If one were of the superstitious persuasion, it might well be called destiny.”
I frowned. Destiny was the wrong word to use on me. I make my own fortune.
Might’ve walked out on him then and there. Probably should have. Then again, he really hadn’t explained my dream like we agreed to.
“So hang on. This potential you’re on about… It was with me from the start? How come I only had that dream just now?”
His grin got even wider somehow, “Ah, but Missy… So it has escaped your attention after all?”
“Stop speaking in riddles now.” I spat out, “Just give me an answer straight.”
“Well, Missy… I could try accommodating your request, but I do believe it would be best to show you.”

He cupped his hand on the table. In a second, a cluster of sparks flashed between his fingers. Red. White. Purple. Changing intermittently. It stopped as fast as it had started. When he lifted his hand, his fist was stuffed with gems. Ranging from the size of a peanut to the size of a cherry. He let them rain on the table with a clutter of clacking.
“Holy…” I leaned in to examine the jewels.
They were of every conceivable colour, but all of them were dark, yet seemed to glow as they shimmered even in the dim light.

“The heck is that?” I looked up at him, now worried, “Are those real?”
“That, my dear Missy, is the residual mana suffusing the empty space above this wooden surface. They’re called Devil Gems. They are constructs of congealed demonic energy. That makes them as real as any Devil Gem.”
I picked one up between my thumb and middle finger. No idea about Devil Gems, but I know a valuable trinket when I see it. Just one of them must be worth a fortune.
I flicked it back in the pile.

“And you said you just plucked this from the air…?”
“How perceptive of you, Missy.” He answered promptly, “This is not something that is possible under normal circumstances. Indeed, it has not always been the case in Tartaros, even recently. The sheer density of demonic energy… It comes from a very powerful monster. Why, if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say it comes from a Supreme Succubus that has settled nearby.”
“Ah…. So you’re saying this Supreme Succubus is causing my dreams?”
“What I am saying is that your potential is but a step away from being realized. And your innermost mind is perfectly aware. Your latency yearns for realization. Indeed. It appears that your destiny is seeking you out.”
“Let me guess… This Supreme Succubus is this most magnanimous mage you mentioned before?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He said, “The Supreme Succubi are monsters like any others. A wound inflicted by the maws of a monster is infected by its demonic taint. A human who is attacked by monsters may well fall from humanity, and become a monster herself. But the Supreme Succubi, who are also called the lilim, are spawned personally by the Demon Lord. They can cause a human to transcend instead, and become a monster such as a baphomet, or an echidna. Or a dragon. But only if the path is open to them.”

I looked around. Guards everywhere. Exits nowhere. Unless that lilim was coming here, my potential was staying right where it was.
Guess that’s what you got to look forward to in Tartaros. Stagnation. And decay.
…Fuck that.
Maybe I wasn’t all that into destiny and all that shit. But if I was a dragon, I’d have the power to change things up. Make a difference. Like Sage said, this is a matter of potential.
“Say, Sage?”
“Yes?”
“You can conjure up them jewels out of thin air whenever you please? Right? Then you wouldn’t mind if I took those right there?”
He laughed, “Missy, you can take whatever you want. As long as you use it to inflict tragedy and discord.”
I scooped them up. Tragedy and discord coming right up.

The guards didn’t seem to care much where I got them. As long as I shared them liberally. In exchange, of course, for some valuable info, along with extended access to the spaces across Tartaros.
Gave me the freedom to work independently. Undetected. I tunneled my way into their black powder reserve. Right under their noses.

Didn’t take a second, and Tartaros lit up in flames. The blast shook the very bedrock. I made sure to detonate it during the change of guard. Made for a more chaotic scene. Didn’t disappoint. The whole prison was in uproar. Before the dust and smoke could settle, no less than eight people had hit the floor dead. The madness was only ramping up from there.

And me? I left that all behind before I ended up as statistics. Slipped between a crack in the floor. Found a tunnel there. That’s where they toss out everything they wanna get rid of from the prison. All the shit and piss and food waste ended up there. And, as I learned crawling through the stink, their dead bodies.
Fuck, that was nasty. But what were my options? Staying back and rot in Tartaros? No. I’m a survivor. I skipped that place. Tore it to tatters and left it behind me. I waded through a hundred and fifty fathoms of grimey maggot-infested sludge, and came out clean on the other side. I fell into a shallow pond. Sank half a foot into the mud at the bottom.
That didn’t matter. I had the whole world for myself.

It was raining. I remembered rain. Used to be that I sought cover whenever it poured. But not then. It felt cool. Cleansing.
I was the first person ever to escape Tartaros. They told me it was impossible. They told me I’d never taste fresh air ever again.
It had a pungent taste. Just a bit sweet.