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Jeb was jettisoned out of his own body as a ball of burning golden fire. The scene below him was frozen in place: two men, one on his deathbed, the other clutching his hand. A scene that had played out time and time again in Jeb’s mind, always with the wrong actors.

Tyler is the one who died, not me. Why do I dream about myself being the one dying so often? the scraps of Jeb’s consciousness wondered.

There was a strange web between the two frozen men, a gossamer promise, made of glowing, immaterial, woven gold. Something in Jeb’s core told him that it really was Tyler’s promise. Or perhaps powered by it?

The scene began to play in reverse, and Jeb watched in fascination from his strange, omniscient viewpoint, as the world rewound like an old VHS tape, the gossamer thread travelling with the two actors.

It rewound, showing the two of them prepare for bed, getting all their gear squared away in the nitpicky way their drill sergeant had, well, ‘drilled’ into them. It rewound further, showing the two hours of R&R before bed, where they had been drinking and playing Mortal Kombat.

Like a living thing, the gossamer gold seemed to sense an opportunity, jumping into Jeb’s body with a soft flash of light.

The scene resumed in regular time, and Jeb watched himself get beat by Tyler repeatedly, a gold flash in his eyes appearing every now and then just before a critical error. Of course, every game in the army is also a drinking game, and Jeb was forced to imbibe an inordinate amount of beer, sending him into a spiral of defeat.

The exact same scene replayed itself as they stowed their gear, got ready for bed, lay down…

But this time, Jeb was the one who got up in the middle of the night and went to take a piss…not Tyler.

What the hell am I looking at? Jeb thought, reaching for the scar on his palm.

The power of a promise. Do not make them lightly, Scion.

Unfortunately, as a ball of bright orange light, he didn’t exactly have a palm to check his scar, sending a wave of dread through his…ball. Am I dead? Did I finally manage to kill myself, and this is what I wanted to happen? Or is it just omniscience in death that allows me to see all the ways things could have been?

Jeb glanced up and spotted wood above him, the cracks in the ceiling slowly growing. Any second they would send beams crashing down into his chest. He needed to get out, right NOW.

But I don’t have a body. How the fuck am I supposed to get out of here?

The beam fell through the ceiling and slammed into his chest, which he now had.

Tyler was standing outside the room.

“No, fuck this, this already happened! I’m alive!” Jeb shouted, his body fueled by pissed-off outrage, beating back the fear for a couple seconds. Long enough to hear what Tyler was really saying.

“Jeb! Jeb, wake up!”

Wake up?

I can’t open my eyes. My eyes are already open. I’m not dreaming. I can’t be dreaming, my eyes are already open… This is real?

It’s not real. Can’t be real.

Jeb looked up at Tyler, really looked.

Tyler had white hair and crow’s feet around his eyes.

Tyler wasn’t Tyler at all. It was Mr. Everett shaking the shit out of him.

Jeb’s throat was hoarse, probably from screaming.

“Anybody see the thing that bit me?” Jeb whispered, his voice not quite working as he tried to sit up.

“Huh?” Mr. Everett asked, frowning. “Something bit you?”

“Under the cabinet,” Jeb whispered, pointing, his limbs weak from adrenaline backlash.

Cautiously, Mr. Everett knelt down and peered under the desk, scanning back and forth. A moment later, the old man grunted, leaning down further and reaching under the cabinet.

Is this dude crazy? Jeb thought. The thing obviously had sent Jeb on a hell of a trip and nearly killed him.

“Nothing under here but this,” the teacher said, pulling out a book.

“Looks like an unused diary or something,” Everett muttered, flipping through the pages. “Doesn’t have anything written on it.” He tossed the book onto the bed.

“I’ll check under the bed,” Everett said.

“Nevermind,” Jeb said, finding his voice as he stared at the book. Its cover was made of green scaly skin, with two long fangs bracing either side of the binding, and rib-like bumps on the sides. “I had a flashback.”

“You sure?” Everett asked, raising a brow. “No trouble at all.”

“I’m sure. I get flashbacks every now and then. I’ll live.” Jeb shrugged. “But if you wanna check under my bed for spooks, more power to ya.”

The teacher chuckled and checked under Jeb’s bed and nightstand, declared the room clean, and bid Jeb a good night.

Jeb picked up the book.

Principles of Myst Sensors and Behavior Programming 101.

Jeb cracked the book open, studying the first page.

“Can you read this part too?” Jeb asked, pointing to the signature at the bottom.

“What part?” Smartass asked, frowning as she studied the paper.

This book is owned by Mevar Salis. If found, please return to room 113 of the Mestikos Myst Academy.

“Huh. That’s odd. I wonder…”

Jeb took the Appraiser and blew a cloud of smoke, stepping into its effect.

Jebediah Trapper

Mystic Trapsmith, Level 39

Accolades: Krusker’s Brawn, Siren’s Cunning, R-R-RubU’s Mysteries, Gresh’s Subtlety, Innovator, Lagross’s Power

Body 21 (9)

Myst 71 (16+3)

Nerve 26 (10)

Abilities: >>FATAL EXCEPTION. Ability missing or corrupted. Awaiting resolution by Administrator.<<<

Accolade Pending: Lagross’s Power suspended due to multiple instances. Awaiting resolution.

Attention, this User has been flagged for exclusion from The System by executive order.

Jeb raised a brow, thumbing his chin.

He glanced between the book on the bed and the missing Ability.

Mystic Trigger.

Principles of Myst Sensors and Behavior Programming 101.

So

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