“Fluttering Flame”
By Derek McEldowney (Deviacon)

Have you ever seen a moth catch fire? They ignite, flail and fizzle in only a second or two, sometimes accompanied by a faint hiss like a tiny little scream.

I can always tell the ones it’ll end up being. They have a way about them. They’ll all flutter and dance dangerously close to the flame. But the ones that catch fire are always a bit more erratic, a bit more energetic, and they always end up getting a little too close.

I had noticed the most curious thing at a bonfire earlier this summer. While everyone else was busy talking or drinking, I was too enamored watching the fire’s dance. As I starred I noticed a moth near the flames, and recognized it almost immediately as one that would get too close and catch.

The moth wasted no time in diving straight into the flames that called to it so enticingly, and I thought that was it. But I watched in awe as a tiny fluttering flame rose out the top and proceeded to dance and twirl above the fire as if reveling in its burning transcendence.

I watched that moth’s fiery dance for nearly five minutes before it finally fizzled out and drifted back into the bonfire as nothing more than ash. I felt I had witnessed something truly amazing and wondrous.

I hadn’t thought anything of it as the summer days got longer and the seasonal swarms of moths came with them. I thought it a little peculiar that I could tell how many more than usual would catch.

I never thought they’d all survive aflame for over five minutes though… until they burnt my house to ground. The house fire drew more swarms in the night and they quickly spread throughout the town. And all I could do was watch those beautiful dancing flames.

First Hand Encounter
By minergirl778 (aka frogfireFantasy)

Research Log, Day 4569.

Today was the most stressful day I’ve had in awhile.

It started out like any other day. I woke up, had my breakfast of lightly buttered toast, and headed up to my lab. For a blissful few hours, my experiments were uninterrupted.

Then… SHE showed up.

Daisy Empatia.

I found this strange girl around my age standing in my living room, unannounced! I have no idea how she got in as the windows and doors have been locked for quite some time. The moment she noticed my presence, she gasped loudly and exclaimed something like “Holy cow! A boy!”

Her nebulous arrival was the beginning of the most exhausting, and harrowing day I’ve ever had! She insisted she was there to “Help”, but I have never seen someone manage to set fire to a beaker while claiming to be ‘helping’.

Not only did she manage to set some of my non-flammable equipment aflame, but she also managed to debunk one of my older theories, sort out all my laundry, and profess to me that mermaids and werewolves were both, indeed, real.

She also–and I couldn’t make this up if I tried–managed to divert a potential rodent uprising by organizing the mice I had kept into a union. A union! I never even realised they were unhappy, much less ready to rebel!

She left a short while ago, mentioning something about being ‘called back to base’. I never thought so much dangerous and incomprehensible nonsense could happen in a single day. She was infuriating, asinine, and frankly confusing.

So why can’t I stop thinking about her? Even as I lay in bed now, my mind keeps wandering to her. I have yet to decipher the way she achieved what she did. She couldn’t even read a periodic table, and yet she disproved one of my hypotheses! It’s inconceivable! I must find a way to contact her. There must be a reasoning to her madness, and it may be the key to my first scientific find!

-Junior Biologist,
Marshal O’Rey

Death, Reversed
By PixieWings

Le Cirque Chuchote’ is more ethereal symbol than physical space. An urban legend hand picked to be drawn into reality. It’s a place of screams spoken only in whispers. Those that wish to find its next performance have to be obsessed with the promise held in the unearthly sounds and spinning colors. The promise of shedding your skin, giving yourself over to its insanity. Some that find it are never heard from again.

This is my eighth time standing at its gate this month.

Why am I like this?

Before I go in, I shuffle my tarot cards and pull one. I know it’s silly but it’s tradition at this point.

Death.

Ha ha, fate. Very funny.

A vampire woman dances on a raised stage, spitting fire into the crowds. They shriek in delight and horror when she catches one of them. I peek inside a tent as I pass and see the giant with her crystal ball, reading fortunes for a gaggle of teenagers in bird masks. I admit I’m a little jealous of her talent. I pass her to get to my prize.

The Hall of Mirrors.

Why am I like this?

I make quick work of the skittish man in the cat mask. A few raspy whispers and my reflection behind him is all it takes to send him sprinting deeper into the maze. I stalk two women in matching jester cowls the better part of an hour, moving the images in their reflections and watching their panic rise the more lost they get.

My laughter echoes through the halls.

I must sound insane.

I remove the grinning devil from my face. Even with flushed cheeks, my skin is pale. My halo fans out from my temples, casting a glow.

I still look like my father.

God, why am I like this?

There’s a sharp crash of breaking glass and a crack shoots up through my forehead, splitting my image in two.

Someone else is laughing.

An eye looks through the crack.

“You’re good at this.”

A wide grin appears underneath it.

“Ya wanna join the circus?”

“A Sneak-thief at the Ridgeport Hotel.”
By: ClockworkPigeonz

It wasn’t an item’s worth, but rather the thrill of obtaining it that tempted Charlie. At first it had been springs, screws, and dropped coins that she’d collected in abundance. Then she’d plucked a necklace from lost and found. Hair pins and rings pilfered from bathroom counters. Watches snatched from poolside tables.

Now it was the gleam of tarnished bronze that enraptured her. As soon as the Ranger had entered the hotel- Charlie had decided it was hers.

Like a fool, he’d fallen for her pretty face and let her follow him back to his room. As she’d climbed onto the bed- he’d sat down his bags, taken off his coat, and unpinned his badge. Then disappeared into the bathroom to wash away the grim of his travels.

Leaving Charlie alone with the badge, which lay prettily in a pool of lamplight. A prized piece of jewelry on display. Worn, scratched up, and bent on one corner…but it was hers.

The sound of running water ceased…

The bathroom door-handle twisted…

Charlie grabbed the badge in a frantic rush and flew out of the room. He must of seen her- for within seconds he had called out and was chasing after her. Down halls, past curious onlookers, and down stairwells they sprinted. Until finally they burst into the lobby and Charlie scrambled into a closet- and from there up an open vent.

Muffled shouting followed her as she clawed and clanged her way up the duct-work. Reaching the top, she dropped the badge into the middle of her nest. Panting from the run, heart pounding in her chest- the gryphon burrowed into her mound of trinkets. The air-duct groaned around her and the wooden beams struggled to hold the weight of both beast and horde.

The sounds of confused shouting only increased as a series of crashes echoed through the Ridgeport’s lobby. And when the dust finally settled there was a mound of stolen goods and a very startled- yet unhurt gryphon sitting among the rubble pilled on the reception desk.

They never did find the badge.

Fourteenth Floor
By Astrid Jones

Run. Hide. If she could beat him up all 14 flights of stairs, she could slip into one of the study-rooms and throw on the dark hoodie she kept stuffed in her bag. He would pass by, thinking she was someone else. Of course, he could always take the elevator. But there was only one of those while there were two stairwells. Dinah had learned the hard way how easily he could trap her if she took the elevator.

She took the steps two at a time. Any distance she could gain on him was better than nothing. She heard the door, now a few flights below, slam shut as someone else began the climb. Dinah resisted the urge to peek over the railing. Instead, she forced her legs faster.

“Sweetheart, wait up! I got something for you.” His voice echoed up the cement walls.

Panic threatened to take the air her lungs needed to make it up the last few flights. Dinah shoved it down, telling herself that he couldn’t run up stairs as fast as her. She had to believe that if she was going to make it through the top door.

He had gained on her by a flight before she pushed through the door of the fourteenth floor. Dinah wove through the small crowd of people in the twisting hallways till she found an empty study-room. Closing the door behind her, shutting out light from the hall, Dinah dug in her bag for her hoodie. Struggling to pull it on, she scrambled under the table.

Dinah stuffed the end of a hoodie sleeve into her mouth in an attempt to quiet her gasping. She could wait him out. He would think she went down the other stairs, or that she had taken the elevator and he would go back down. He would think he had lost her. She would be safe here.

The light blinked on as the door opened. A chair pulled out from the table and was replaced by a kneeling man.

“There you are, my little spark,” he said with a grin.

“The Swinging Lantern”
By Hemming Sebastian Bane

Long ago, there was a frontier town by the name of Gaohesh. It was simple enough: a tavern, a general store, a smithy, a doctor’s office and a joint temple to the Seven Gods. Folks who were seeking their fortunes came in and made themselves comfortable. Workers employed in the mines found success in finding gold. Gaohesh was prosperous and happy. That was until one fateful night.

He showed up just around midnight, light from his lantern glowing an ominous blue. No one saw his features other than his prodigious height, but they heard his singing. It was low and slow, like swamp sludge. It was gravelly, as though he had swallowed rocks. And as he sang, he slowly trudged through the main street, the blue flame swaying.

That’s when it happened. Those with children found them not only awake, but enthralled by the voice. Parents looked on in fear as their children disobeyed their orders to go back to bed and left their houses to follow the man. They followed him out of town where all of them disappeared.

Ever since then, on the nights where the moon is dim and the sweet western wind blows, parents sewed their children into bed. It worked for a while. That was when the man with the lantern began taking the children himself. Those that got in his way met a terrible fate.

Those that did not noted his features. His eyes were burning coals, he lacked a nose, and his mouth was twisted and jagged. His skin was like a man dead from exposure. All he had was his hood, his lantern, and his song.

Between the disappearing children and the slaughter of townsfolk, the locals abandoned it. Some went back to where they came from. Some traveled north to Qantkin, enduring the cold. But one thing stayed the same: on nights with dim moons and sweet western winds, the Swinging Lantern came and looked for children to take, his song carrying through the mountains and the pines.

So be good and pray he doesn’t come knocking on your door.

The Cult
By Matthew (Handsome Johanson)

Rebecca’s eyes burst open.

A dark blackness spread out before her.

Feeling a bit groggy, she tried to get up, but was bound to the chair she found herself in. She cried a little as the weight of the situation began to dawn on her. This wasn’t how she expected to be spending her Saturday night.

“Hello?” She whispered into the darkness, hoping this was a demented surprise party.

For a moment, all she could hear was her own nervous breathing.

Click.

And, a flame burst forth, blinded her and filled the room with its radiant glow. As Rebecca’s eyes adjusted to the glare, she could see a hooded figure in front of her holding a candle.

“Hello, Jesseca Bently.” A sly voice broke the silence. “We heard you performed the Ritual of the Black Moth.”

Rebecca spoke up. “Look. I’m sorry to interrupt, but my name is not ‘Jessica’.”

“Wait, really?” The robed figure quickly put out the candle. “You idiots! This isn’t her!” He screamed out. Several robed figures in the back shuffled around embarrassedly.

The robed figure turned to her. “I am so sorry. I have no idea how this could have happened.” His voice was much smoother and friendly now. He quickly untied her and helped her to her feet.

“How are yo-” the cultist was interrupted by a huge slap to the face.

“Jess is in room 148B, not 148A!” Rebecca scolded.

“Ouch! I deserve that.” The cultist took off his hood and rubbed his cheek a little. “I’m Ollie, by the way.” He held out his hand and Rebecca fist bumped it awkwardly.

“Hi. I’m Rebecca. So is there like a door out of here or?” she asked.

“Oh! Let me escort you out.” He held out his hand and Rebecca took it. He flashed her a warm smile and led her out of the building.

“So, is there anything I can do to make this mistake up to you?” Ollie asked nervously.

“Well, there is one thing.” Rebecca said. “Since you ruined my night, I think you owe me a nice dinner.”

“The Exchange”
by Carrie (Glaceon373)

“Take a seat,” the man behind the desk smiled warmly.

His visitor sat down. “Mr. Anilioch, I presume?”

“And you must be the negotiator from the Penta Administration.” Anilioch never broke eye contact. “And what have you been sent to negotiate?”

“I’m here to offer up a trade.” The intern placed a briefcase on the desk. “My superiors are offering a million for what is detailed here.”

Antilioch turned the case towards him and opened it. A single sheet of paper, taped to the lid. An order form for a full greenhouse of feverfew, ten dragon scales, and seven grams of fae-metal.

“I presume your—‘superiors,’ yes?—instructed you to keep this closed until you got here?” Antilioch asked.

“Y—yes, sir.”

Antilioch closed the briefcase and slid it aside, keeping his hands on the table. “They clearly don’t have your best interests in mind, young man.”

“I—I don’t…understand…” The intern’s eyes drifted towards the silver ring around Antilioch’s right middle finger. It looked green, or maybe purple…

Antilioch smiled as his other hand clicked a pen and began writing. “Yes, how rude of them to treat you like that. They can afford to pay two million. And I’ll keep the fae-metal to make it more fair, how does that sound?”

“Yes…that would…be nice…” He leaned towards the ring. He wanted to understand the color so much that Antilioch’s deal seemed so easy to meet, compared to understanding the ring…

“Bring this paper back with you, and tell those ‘superiors’ it’s my final offer.” Antilioch slid the revised request across the desk. “And one more thing: you did nothing wrong. You won’t be punished for this. Not. One. Bit.”

Antilioch flicked his right hand into the handshake position. The intern jolted upright, quickly shook his hand, grabbed the paper, gave his thanks with wide eyes, and left, leaving the briefcase on the desk.

Antilioch waited until he could no longer hear the intern’s footsteps. Then he laughed.

“You’d think those blokes would’a figured I was usin’ fae-metal by now,” he said as he got up and locked the office door. “Those bumblin’ idiots.”

Too close to the flames
by Larissa (Lari B Haven)

She crossed the Sanatorium garden and sat on the bench by the shadow; the men greeted her with a glance: “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Anderson.”

Zoella Anderson smiled in response. “I got another letter from my husband. How are the paper cranes going?”

“Prettier than yesterday.” He responded. He kept folding the paper with sharp lines.

She only knew him for a while; he was there for a long time according to nurses’ gossip. She knew he used to be a doctor, and he would keep making those paper animals as a hobby. He was friendly to her, always asking her about her family. Leonard would sometimes speak about a friend he had in a melancholic tone.

“My friend taught me how to do the cranes, if you make enough of those, they could grant me a wish.” He said, breaking the silence of that early morning.

“What kind of wish do you seek?” Zoella looked curiously.

“If you could undo a mistake, would you take the chance?”

“In a heartbeat!” She answered, glancing at her letter.

“My friend was a dreamer, I was a realist. As opposites, the allure of the exchange was obvious. We complete what the other lacked.” He took another sheet of paper.

“You speak fondly of him, Leonard. I believe you were close like brothers.”

“I supposed we were like brothers.” He sighed. “When we finished Med school, he still had a heart bigger than his head. I kept being the rational one. Until the day we ended up fighting.”

“I imagine that was difficult…”

“I pushed him into a choiceless situation. The patient was a child. As a doctor, you always have some of those in your hands…” His expression tensed up. “He trusted my judgment… We lost it. He couldn’t live with the outcome.”

He crumbled the paper bird into his hand. “Like a moth, he burned in my flames.”

“So you wished you could have prevented his death?” She responded worriedly.

“No, I wish he never had met me.”

Trap set and sprung
by Exce

Two glowing points descended from the night sky, swirling around each other before shooting across the treetops  towards a rocky rise that stood out against the stars.

They circled it for a moment, as if considering the options laid out before them, then finally descended to the rocky ground.

It  were two angels, one a man carrying a spear, the other a woman equipped with a short bow.

As they were walking up towards the rock, she gave her companion a side glance.

“If he is hiding in there, a spear isn’t gonna be very useful.Why did the King not send one of the blade wielders?”

Her partner squinted at the rockface up ahead, trying to make out more than the utter darkness of what might be a cave entrance. “All I have to do is nail him in place long enough for you to give him a third eye. Then we can report back. A bladewielder would get in your way. I won’t.”

Their conversation was quick and to the point. Neither voice seemed to express any emotions besides concentrated attentiveness.

Darkness grew around them as they entered and advanced into the cave, their golden weapons and halos giving off a faint glow.

So they wound their way down and down into the innards of the cave, looking for a monster to slay.

Eventually, they entered a great cavern, walking carefully so as to not be surprised.

And yet they flinched when the flickering light of a candle struck them from behind. They quickly turned, beholding a muscular man with a red mane of hair. The flickering candle flame illuminated a twisted smile.

“Ah…I love it when things just fall into place. All I have to do is stay around for a bit…and Ubvoriel sent some of his enforcers.”

He dropped the candle, which bounced off the floor, rolling away before winking out, leaving only a pair of red-glowing eyes.

“To die like moths burning in the flame.”

Their screams died away unheard.

The Flames
By Twangyflame0

For the first time ever, Ryan felt like he couldn’t win this fight. The masked figure laughed, their swords gleaming in the moonlight. Their green eyes stared at him with a curiosity that Ryan did not want to satiate.

They pointed the longer sword at him. “I’ve met plenty of heroes in my time, but someone of your origin is interesting.”

“Yeah, well.” Ryan kept his smile, despite the pain. “Plenty have told me I’m an interesting guy.”

The figure laughed again. “Such overwhelming and destructive power at your fingertips, and yet you are willing to use none of it.”

“Why go overboard when I can just kick ass without it?” Ryan raised his metal arms, ready to fight again.

The figure let the longsword settle on their shoulder. “Heh, we’re similar in that regard, but I do it because it would be boring otherwise.”

Ryan tried his best to ignore the nonsense this person was spouting, but part of him agreed. His life would be really boring if he simply used all of his power.

The masked figure looked at the shortsword in their other hand. “Hmph. We also have a tendency to draw other people to us, don’t we?”

“Are you talking about your friends?” Ryan could still see the metal dude and the bandaged dude in his mind. It was seriously bad news if all of them were working together.

The figure looked down and chuckled, “I wouldn’t call them friends, but we are both the flames of which moths burn themselves on, whether they be our enemies or allies.”

That sounded like a threat. “If you lay a finger on my–”

They spread their arms out. “I will do no such thing unless I need to; however, that might be hard…”

“What are you planning?!” Ryan took a step forward, heating up everything nearby.

The figure’s voice became animalistic. “Why don’t you make me tell you?!”

The figure dashed forward, slicing with their blades. Ryan blocked with his metal arms. Energy bellowed out of them as Ryan’s fiery eyes locked onto the figure’s green snake-like eyes.

Eyes
By PitL

Something has happened to me, in the years since I was first brought into the City. I first realized it a week ago. It was… unsettling. A revelation, you could say.

No. Let me back up, just for a moment.

Have you ever felt like you were being watched? Cliché, I know.

No, not the “oh, I feel a breath on my shoulder” bit. More like… being viewed from afar. They’re looking at you, you know, but when you turn around – poof! Everyone’s just minding their own business. No one cares what you’re doing, really.

There was a time when being ignored annoyed me. I didn’t like being brushed off. I’m a person! I’m important!

I’d give anything to go back to that, now.

It started as a feeling. Not even a tingling or anything – not like in the movies back home. Fairly innocent altogether. Just a pause here, a quickening of pace there – it happens. The City itself doesn’t help matters – thin, hilly cobblestone walkways, twisted highrises stretching far into the distance… I don’t envy any claustrophobes who find themselves trapped here.

I think I first began to notice it a year ago, when I passed the same man twice. Well, I say man… he’s more of a blob. Good guy. Orange, gelatinous, hard to miss. Anyway, important bit: he stands out in a crowd.

It was almost like déjà vu. You walk in a straight line, make good time down the road… and there he is again. You walk another piece, and whaddya know, he’s right there.

If he’d had eyes, I would’ve thought he was staring at me.

I wrote it off then. I wrote off a lot of things. The recurring faces in the crowd. The roc across the street, staring at my townhouse’s front step. The cars crashing in the distance behind me.

They’re all staring at me now. I can feel it. If I was just a little faster, I could catch them. Throw the window open and see.

Throw it open, and see…

Come and see…

A Letter For The Newbies
By T4COG4M3

“Whatever tempted you to accept the deal, i don’t care, i’ll be brief, but understand that everything you will be going trough is real

From the exhaustion of running head to toes with heavy equipment, to the pain of a bullet wound making it’s way trough your chest. To the shock as it pierces your heart and, or, spine.

Did i scare you? Good. as stated. You and you alone are responsable of being here. But see the bright side, you cant die here, all injuries during a deathmatch are reversed in a quick and painless regen. At the end of the day, it is all entertainment for those who paid enough.

You can get out. But you have to earn it, every continous win adds to your total victory pool, reach 100, and you’ll be freed, lose once, and a victory gets removed from that pool.

This is a good time to push yourself beyond any limit you may believe your body holds. You’ll spend quite a lot of time here, so go try the loadouts out, make some friends, make some enemies. But dont get too comfy with factions, teams are random and so are the locations.

If i may give any specific pointers as to what’s best. Snipers work like a charm in the wide spaces of pandora, shotguns are sweet goodness for close quarters combat in jails and rooftop.

And since we’re dealing with tips. Good common knowledge etiquette from top dogs is if you’re the last alive, and the enemy team has good behavior, a bow with your gun up means you accept to a one vs one with each of them, we may be warriors. But we arent savages.

Well…most of us, some lose on purpose to keep playing because they truly enjoy the sport, so look out for 50/50 win rates.

Lastly; When, and if, you reach 100 victories, you get an opportunity to write a letter to the newcomers, and then thrown back into an earned second chance.

See ya in the real world.