THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

An empty darkness surrounded Annilasia—different than night, different than that found in a cave. Nothingness stretched in every direction. Despite a foggy awareness of her presence in this place, she lacked a tangible body with which to interrupt the void. The blackness swallowed her whole.

Thought and feeling slipped through like leaves, caught in a river that led to the same lake of emptiness she now waded in. By the time they cohered, they dissipated again to make way for the next thread of slippery thoughts. Because of this, panic over the strange land never quite struck her. In her initial seconds of consciousness, a flash of confusion sharpened, then broke apart.

Manic fear upon discovering the other presence that joined her in the emptiness was instantaneous, however. Recollection of past visits seeped through the fog, along with the knowledge that she had yet to visit the purgatorial darkness without the distressing company. The other entity stalked her here with no reason or motive. She knew that if she ran, it would follow. But she wasn’t even sure she could run in this place. She had no body with which to react, unlike the hideous thing that watched her without blinking.

Black bones formed a ghoulish body vacant of true organs or internal matter, defying logic with its breathing existence. Yet Annilasia knew it wasn’t alive. Death emanated from this creature, creeping off the slivers of rotting skin that clung loosely to the exposed bones. A grey cloak, torn to shreds and rendered useless, dipped along its back.

Exhibiting little more than these cloudy features, the silhouette blended with the emptiness, visible only by some indeterminate light that gleamed dimly in the glaze oozing over the bones and skin. Blood dripped in erratic waterfalls from its open jaw. Where open wounds split its lips, the blood sizzled and steamed as if it were molten lava.

“Bloodspill,” the dokojin hissed.

The nickname crawled through her like a recurring nightmare. She remembered now. This abomination knew her, and in turn, she’d learned its name as well over time.

“Be gone, Inzerious,” she whispered. Saying the name conjured disturbing imagery and sounds—dingy dungeon cells and lacerated screams. Its name carried with it the horrible sins this dokojin had partaken in over its existence.

The dokojin screeched at her in acknowledgement. Whatever part of her existed in this place quivered with terror under the strange sense that the emptiness offered no route of escape. She was trapped with the dokojin.

Inzerious bounded with great leaps and pressed sharply into her vision as it crowded her.

“Drip drop, blood from the clot,” the dokojin taunted.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, unable to distance herself without a physical body. “This place isn’t real. You’re not real.”

“Are you real?” Inzerious sneered. “I see no body. All I see is an aura of trembling fear.” The dokojin chuckled. The sound reminded Annilasia of phlegm caught in the throat when ill. “This dreamless space is neither here nor there, Bloodspill. As are we, when inside it. But that is to say nothing of reality.”

“Why do you torment me?” she asked weakly.

“I followed you, or rather you dragged me here,” it croaked. “I go where you go, Bloodspill.” The dokojin’s hideous grin widened.

“Korcsha did this, didn’t zie?” Annilasia asked with a shaky voice. “You’re tied to that book.”

A gnarled hand, hooked with claws, ripped into view and inched over her vision. Even though she had no eyes in this existence, she couldn’t quell her fear of the pain should these claws scrape her.

Inzerious cooed, a sound of reassurance caked in trickery. “I am not imbued in the book. Stupid, stupid Bloodspill. You offered me your home—a cozy place inside your gangly excuse for a body.”

“No, I didn’t,” Annilasia blurted. However, her rebuke lost its charge, weighted by the doubt lacing her words. “I wouldn’t have welcomed such an abomination.”

“But you did,” Inzerious croaked, bones clattering as it cocked its head. Blood squirted from various boils ruptured by the motion. “You crept down to that bunker, toeing one foot in your Realm and one in mine. Like a lost child, unaware of its doomed wanderings.” The clawed hand snapped shut. “And I pounced. All I needed was a scream. Screams are like promises, Bloodspill. You parted those lips with a sound so pure I couldn’t resist. In, down the tunnel, bedding with another.” The dokojin howled at her with maniacal glee.

“I want you out! I never wanted you. I renounce you!”

The dokojin howled again, mockery spiking. “Do you think you can renounce me? You offered up your body, Bloodspill. We share that pathetic shell of a bloodbag that you careen about in while awake. I’ve even made some markings of my own. I rather like the new designs slashed across the shoulder, don’t you?”

Desperation shook Annilasia. “What—what if I read the entire book? Is that why you’re desperate to stay? I’ll read the whole damn thing if it means you’ll leave me alone when I’m done.”

Inzerious chuckled again. “The aether book—what a tasty extra treat that was. Not only did I bargain a body, but I secured a housemate dragging around an aether spell book.” The dokojin clucked with approval. “It’s been so long since I could use aether in the Terrestrial Realm. You’re reading the book so that our mind memorizes it, Bloodspill. So that when I squash you like a sack of rotted bones, my mind has had practice wielding aether in that foreign Realm you call your own.”

Realization dawned with cruel clarity in Annilasia. Inzerious had no intention of leaving.

A sound like an iron door, echoing around them like thunder, marked the abrupt arrival of another presence. Annilasia panicked and fought to leave, but to no avail. The emptiness that held her seemed trying to shrink from this newcomer, yet had obligated its omnipresence to hosting the monstrosity.

A timeless age wreathed the new dokojin. In every essence—from its looming stature that towered over Inzerious, to its mere presence—it exuded antiquity.

Horns sprouted from its head like giant spikes, digging into the endless ceiling above it. Black wings stretched out from its torso in an endless extension in either direction, dripping rivulets of blood that dissolved in the intangible ground. A myriad of bloodied human skulls bulged out of its leathery skin like organic warts.

Within the moment of its arrival, these details assaulted Annilasia before she could look away. She counted it a miracle that she managed to avert her gaze before glimpsing its face. Otherwise, madness would certainly have set in. With no choice but to observe one or the other, she chose Inzerious, grateful that its attention was drawn to its kin.

To her misfortune, she’d obviously heard the voice of a dokojin before. During her waking hours, Inzerious had whispered things into her mind that left her deranged and panting for death. Its voice carried fantasies of torture and cruelty that made her grovel. Inside its very breath were shrieking souls devoured over time and forever trapped as slaves to insanity.

When the new dokojin spoke, Annilasia heard the difference. The magnitude of voices howling in its words made those of Inzerious seem tame and docile. Too many souls clamored together in a cage too deep and powerful to escape.

The meaning behind the two dokojins’ exchange escaped her. No language could contain the chaos and sheer agony they unleashed. Layers of despair attempted to form meaning but melted beneath the overtones of violence before they could arrange into words. At the very least, she detected a sense of cowering submission from Inzerious towards the new, domineering dokojin.

Annilasia couldn’t help the mangled cry that mixed weakly with their noise. The pair grew silent and looked over. Desire for death flooded her. Dead things didn’t dream. Dead things couldn’t hear. Dead things couldn’t witness these horrible nightmares. The eternal space was too crowded. She wanted out. There had to be a way to escape.

Another presence shot into existence between her and the two dokojin. Unlike Annilasia, the human took on a completely physical form. Already in the midst of a curdling scream, the nude figure vibrated with an intensity that frightened her. It shouldn’t have been there either. It didn’t belong, and if it lingered, the vibrations would rip this person apart.

A sick familiarity crept over Annilasia. She knew who this was.

“Help me!” screamed Korcsha as zie writhed on the ground. “I beg you! He’s going to devour me. He’ll drain my aura!”

“What are you doing here?” asked Annilasia. The aethertwister’s form flashed and crinkled as if something afflicted zim. Zie cowered away from invisible assailants and thrashed zir arms as if to ward them away.

“He forced me here,” zie whimpered. “He’s looking for the Tecalica.”

Dread swarmed across Annilasia. “Who’s looking for her?”

“That thing!” Korcsha pointed behind zim, clearly unwilling to behold the winged dokojin that had preceded zir arrival. “The Sachem—he came to my tent in the night and tore the forest to pieces. And then . . .” Zir voice trembled. “He translated me into the Apparition Realm.”

Zir eyes suddenly flashed wide. “That’s when I saw it. It chased me, souldrained me, and ripped me from my lifechain.” Korcsha gave Annilasia a look of despair. “This is all that’s left of me. My connection to my body is severed, and that thing kept me, like a prize, or maybe as a pet.”

Annilasia’s eyes flickered back to the dokojin. The two entities stood silent as death. “Korcsha, why is it looking for—”

“Get me out of here!” Korcsha yelled. No sooner had zie started chanting the request than zir frantic cries abruptly transformed into one prolonged howl.

Annilasia’s gaze lifted, and she startled under a wave of terror. Without her noticing, the greater of the two dokojin had approached. Its black wings folded around Annilasia and Korcsha blood streaming off the feathers.

Annilasia averted her gaze. She still hadn’t seen its face, and if Korcsha’s building hysteria was any indication, she needed to keep it that way. Instead, she watched the aethertwister as zie stared up at the dokojin in horror. Korcsha’s wail stretched on without pause.

A leathery arm shot out faster than Annilasia could comprehend. In a matter of seconds, it gripped Korcsha’s face in its clawed hands and ripped it crudely from the twister’s body. The sound of flayed bones and ruptured vessels bit at Annilasia, replacing the screams of the now silent victim. She watched the dokojin’s arm fold back towards the torso before twisting Korcsha’s severed head, which gushed blood at the neck, to face her. Bulging eyes glazed with death stared back at her.

The creature pressed its new prize into its torso as if to nuzzle it. The leather skin wrinkled back to make room for the new addition amongst the dozens of other skulls hosted inside it. When the hand lifted away, Korcsha’s face was fastened in place, adjoined with the other morbid trophies.

Only when the same gangly arm extended towards her did Annilasia tear her eyes away. A jolt of fear spiked through her at the movement—at the idea she might face the same fate. She caught sight of a slender object protruding from the clawed hand basked in veiny skin.

A glass wand. Korcsha’s wand. It had to be. Somehow that made sense.

“Bloodspill. Bloodspill. Bloodspill. Bloodspill.”

Inzerious chanted the nickname in a crescendo as the wand inched towards Annilasia, like some war cry announcing her end in this empty Realm.

***

Annilasia startled awake with a painful inhalation of air. She jerked her head in every direction. She wasn’t outside anymore. A tent shrouded in darkness engulfed her, but it was not the same darkness that had swallowed her moments earlier.

Heat seared her cheek. Fire. Her hair was on fire.

Frantic hands slapped and tugged at the phantom flames burning her. The flailing loosened the medresa, and it fell to the ground, ending the burning. She stilled and stared down at the beaded string.

There had been no fire. The medresa had been the source of the heat.

Annilasia’s chest heaved as she attempted to calm her breathing. Where is everyone?

She scrambled forward on hands and knees to poke her head past the tent flap. Night reigned over the sky and land. A campfire crackled, which gave light to Mygo where he sat hunched over some unrolled scrolls.

She ducked back inside the tent. Her eyes roamed the space as she racked her mind for an explanation. She froze when she glimpsed Korcsha’s book lying wide open, flipped to a page far past the one she last read before Elothel’s arrival.

As a shiver ran down her spine, Annilasia stared at the book, haunted by her inability to account for the time lost between Elothel’s arrival and the present. She recalled Elothel emerging from the tent and speaking with her. Then nothing, until awakening in the tent under the blanket of night.

She looked back to the medresa, wishing to forget the nightmare. But the cruel details of the two dokojin and Korcsha’s demise bled through her mind. The wand’s meaning eluded her. Most troubling of all, she couldn’t answer why the new dokojin had pointed it at her.

Her eyes darted yet again to the book, and she stared for another long moment, contemplating the twister’s decapitated head trapped in the folds of the dokojin’s skin. It had been a dream, surely. The twister couldn’t really be dead.

Yet, if Korcsha was in fact dead, then Annilasia had no reason to keep the book. A sliver of hope wormed its way past her bleak ruminations. She might be free of the cursed thing.

Even as the thought formed, a voice dripping with seething hatred hissed around her. Her muscles went rigid. Hateful tones corroded the words that stretched like a strung-up carcass.

“Keep reading, Bloodspill. Read the damn book!”

The hope vanished along with the possibility of freedom from the accursed pages. Dead or alive, Korcsha was no longer the tie chaining Annilasia to the book.