The metal pipe slipped from my hands and hit the concrete with a hollow clang.
The man on the floor couldn’t answer. His legs were twisted horribly as he dragged himself forward on raw elbows, leaving wet streaks across the warehouse floor. One of his shoes was gone.
"I-I think... that’s enough..." My voice barely made it out of my throat.
His fingers stretched toward me, driven by nothing but instinct, like his body hadn’t realized the rest of him had already given up.
"Please..."
he gasped. Half his face was swollen beyond recognition, one eye completely shut as tears mixed with the blood running down his cheek.
"P-Please... she’s sick. I still need to pay for her medicine..."
Life had a dark sense of humor. It kept putting mirrors in front of me, making sure I saw pieces of my own past in the people I was hurting. The only thing that changed was which side of the reflection I stood on.
I staggered backward until my shoulders hit the cold brick wall.
"T-there is no other way." I swallowed. "There isn’t..."
A boot slammed into my shoulder, sending me onto my knees.
"What are you standing around for?" The man behind me sounded bored. "Finish the fucking job."
"Knew we couldn’t trust him."
"Fucking amateur."
"He’s gonna get us all killed."
The whispers spread through the warehouse. I had become a liability.
My hands shook as I reached for the pipe again. The metal was warm and wet against my palm. I tried not to think about why.
"I can’t."
The warehouse went silent.
Someone laughed.
Then the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed against the back of my skull.
"You’re going to see things like this in this line of work. It isn’t always going to sit right with you, but that’s how it is." The man sighed. "You’re new, so I’ll give you a pass this time. Just get it done."
I looked down at the man sobbing on the floor.
I couldn’t stop myself from crying either.
------------------
Miracles always felt like something people made up when they needed hope. I’d never really believed in them. But if one ever came my way, I wouldn’t ask why. I’d ask what it wanted.
Because every miracle demands a sacrifice.
***
Years later, my life had become considerably less exciting.
I had an apartment, a steady income, a younger sister, and enough money saved that I didn’t have to worry about every little expense anymore. Most of my time went into writing. It paid the bills, kept me busy, and gave me something to complain about when I was bored.
That night, I’d been staring at my laptop for almost an hour. The document in front of me contained three sentences. I’d written the first, deleted it, written another, deleted that too.
I eventually sighed and closed the document.
"I hate writing."
That was a lie. I liked writing.
I just hated being forced to come up with something worth writing.
My phone buzzed.
I picked it up and found eleven messages from my sister.
Little Gremlin: [Are you awake?]
Little Gremlin: [Actually don’t answer that.]
Little Gremlin: [You’re probably writing.]
Little Gremlin: [Which means you’re probably staring at the same sentence again.]
I frowned.
Little Gremlin: [I need money (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ]
Little Gremlin: [For school.]
Little Gremlin: [Mostly.]
I stared at the last message.
Me: [What does mostly mean?]
She replied almost immediately.
Little Gremlin: [IT MEANS YOU DON’T NEED TO!!!]
Me: [That’s exactly why I need to know.]
Little Gremlin: [No it isn’t.]
I rubbed my face.
Little Gremlin: [Also, can you help me tomorrow?]
Little Gremlin: [Don’t say you’re busy ☠︎︎]
Little Gremlin: [You’re a writer ₍^. .^₎⟆ ]
Little Gremlin: [You literally sit at home ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა]
Goodness, I think I just witnessed an emoji overdose.
I stared at the screen for a moment.
Me: [I work.]
Little Gremlin: [You have written three sentences today.]
I paused.
Me: [They’re very good sentences.]
There was a short delay.
Little Gremlin: [Are they?]
Me: [No.]
Little Gremlin: [Thought so.]
I laughed despite myself.
Me: [I hate you.]
Little Gremlin: [Love you too.]
I locked my phone and put it beside the laptop.
The document was still open.
The three sentences were still terrible.
"I need a new idea."
I picked up my phone again and started browsing aimlessly. I wasn’t looking for anything specific. I just wanted to stop thinking about writing for a while.
That’s when I found the game.
I’d never heard of it before. It had been abandoned years ago, and the game itself wasn’t available anymore. Someone had preserved most of its information on a wiki, though, so I opened it.
The website looked old enough to have its own retirement plan.
Half the pages were unfinished. Some characters had nothing but a name and a picture. A few locations had barely a paragraph of information.
One monster had three different descriptions.
I frowned.
"Was this made by five different people who hated each other?"
I clicked another page.
It contradicted the previous one.
I clicked another.
It contradicted both.
"...Six people."
I kept reading anyway.
The setting was interesting. There were monsters, Gates, strange powers, old civilizations, and a world that had apparently gone through one disaster after another.
There were references to something called the SIGIL, an event called the Great Sundering, and a figure known as the First Arbiter.
I didn’t understand half of it.
That didn’t really bother me.
In fact, it made me want to keep reading.
There was something satisfying about finding a setting with this much buried under the surface. Even the unfinished parts gave me ideas.
I glanced at my blank document.
Then at the wiki.
I looked back at the document.
I could use this.
Not copy it. That would be wrong.
I frowned.
Using an abandoned game’s setting for a novel without permission wasn’t exactly something I’d put on a list of morally responsible decisions either.
But I wasn’t going to copy it.
I’d change things.
A lot of things.
Probably.
I scrolled through the wiki again.
There was a character I liked.
"Okay. I’ll change his name."
Another character.
"I’ll change hers too."
A historical event.
"I can do something with that."
A power system.
"I’ll make this better."
Then I found a monster with an incredible design.
I stared at it.
"...I’m keeping that."
I leaned back in my chair.
"Yeah. I’ll just borrow a few things."
A few.
That sounded reasonable.
Then I thought about it.
"Maybe more than a few."
Whatever.
I was a writer. Inspiration came from everywhere.
I opened a new document.
For the next several hours, I wrote. The wiki gave me the foundation, and I built around it, changing names, rewriting characters, rearranging events, filling in gaps, and expanding the parts I liked. Some things changed completely. Others barely changed at all.
Whenever I found something I liked, I kept it.
Whenever I found something stupid, I rewrote it.
Whenever I found something stupid that I liked anyway, I kept that too.
By the time I finally stopped, the sun was starting to come up. My eyes hurt, my back hurt, and my hands were sore, but I was smiling.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to actually enjoy writing.
I looked at the title.
The Beginning.
I stared at it for a few seconds.
"...That’s terrible."
I deleted it.
I tried another.
The New World.
Even worse.
I sighed and settled on something simple.
Miracles.
I nodded.
"Good enough."
I saved the document.
My phone buzzed again.
I checked it.
Little Gremlin: [Are you asleep?]
Little Gremlin: [Wait.]
Little Gremlin: [You’re still awake, aren’t you?]
Little Gremlin: [It’s almost morning.]
Little Gremlin: [You’re an idiot.]
Little Gremlin: [Goodnight.]
Little Gremlin: [Love you.]
I smiled.
Me: [Goodnight.]
I hesitated before typing another message.
Me: [Love you too.]
The reply came almost immediately.
Little Gremlin: [Holy shit.]
I laughed.
Me: [What?]
Little Gremlin: [Nothing.]
Little Gremlin: [I’m saving this forever.]
Me: [Delete it.]
Little Gremlin: [No.]
I shook my head and put the phone down.
After everything, things were finally starting to feel normal. I had work. I had money. My sister had a future. For once, I didn’t have to worry about what tomorrow would bring.
Which, in hindsight, was probably the biggest mistake I’d made.
I went to bed.
Sleep came quickly.
Darkness swallowed me whole, dragging me downward into the abyss.
Then the vision began.
It wasn’t a normal dream. There was no soft fade. One second I was drifting off, and the next, a tidal wave of blood, smoke, and dying screams slammed into my mind.
I saw a battlefield littered with burning flags and fallen soldiers. I felt the old commander’s overwhelming grief, the searing heat of a city reduced to ashes, and the crushing weight of a war I had never fought. I watched myself live and die in a hundred different ways, trapped in a relentless, endless loop of loss.
And just when I thought my mind was going to shatter from the noise...
I opened my eyes to the silence of an unfamiliar forest.
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