Still at his desk recounting his escapade on the Plane from only a few moments ago, Aron was sure he had been very close to Tilson’s hideout, which appeared to be someone else’s den: the location where someone sleeps and enters the Plane through their dreams. The putrisomn had been thicker and more detailed. The swirling glow from people’s hazes could be seen flickering throughout. This was usually the case when a Reader on the Plane approached an area where many people lived in waking life.
“When a person sleeps,” Aron remembered Yusef telling him long ago, “all of their mind’s uncertainties, fears, hopes, desires, and other raw emotions are processed. They are manifested on the Plane in what is called a haze.” Just before Aron had seen someone else’s haze for the first time, Yusef described it as what a galaxy might look like if it were placed inside a blender. One had to be careful, he warned, not to get too close or listen too intently to a haze unless you were both willing and ready to be sucked into that blender of thoughts, memories, and emotions. In many ways, it was just like entering a swirling, chaotic galaxy.
Aron had made his way down the slopes and into the outskirts of town, navigating around the hives of putrisomn as best he could. He stuck as close to the edge of town as possible, gently moving vines and branches of silky, dark brown and green putrisomn out of his path, and slowly made his way through what was undoubtedly a condensed neighborhood of plebs in waking life. He recognized the structures of putrisomn, as it had grown in the same form as people’s bedrooms, ceilings, and nearby rooms.
Near the top of most hives, swirling orbs and streaks of colored light spun at different speeds; the hazes of sleeping plebs in their second floor bedrooms could be seen shining through the cracks and crevices of hives across this residential area.
This was a neighborhood of expensive tract homes because in nice houses people only slept in upstairs bedrooms, and the putrisomn had no strong bottom structure when it was produced by people sleeping ten or fifteen feet up in the air. It somewhat resembled a melted, condensed growth as the putrisomn gathered from the air and fell down to the ground as it spewed from people’s hazes or occasionally spattered from shadows moving about in the waking world. Oddly enough, the poorer, less privileged people in waking life often produced more structured, impressive putrisomn hives in the Plane. Since most of them live together in rooms so compactly crammed and stacked, putrisomn grew thickly and consistently.
After making his way past another large mound and being careful to stay hidden in the branches of putrisomn while avoiding the glimmer of a nearby haze, Aron saw something that made him feel both excited and fearful at the same time: a golem.
It was the size of a large dog and walked on four legs, but had two additional limbs, which appeared to be holding or even made of crude looking blades and piercing points. Its body frame and limbs were a dark metallic color, and its legs and arms looked sharp, as though a kick, swing, or poke from any of its limbs would act as an edged weapon of some sort. The presence of a golem confirmed his suspicions, after months of investigating and tracking, that Tilson was a Reader or had been infiltrated by another Reader.
The golem appeared to be quietly patrolling. As its mechanical legs clambered over a small mound of putrisomn on the street Aron saw its head jerk over in his direction. He thought it had heard or seen him. Its face turned toward him and he saw that the construct had a darkened, blank face but for four solid, glowing red eyes. One pair was located normally near the middle of the head. The other pair was stacked above and spread further apart from the one below. At the sides of its head a pair of sharp horns angled up and forward, like a bull’s. Aron tensed up for a fight. Instead, the golem stared toward his direction for a brief moment before blinking its eyes in order from the bottom up. Then it looked away and kept on its patrol.
Aron saw his chance to sneak after the passing golem and took it, successfully running across a yard and into a large mound with more defined structure. There was only a faint glow from whoever’s haze was in there, like the embers of a dying fire stirred up with the breeze.
He crossed the street and passed a dilapidated mailbox which had a putrisomn pole and a miniature log cabin on top. The front door was large in proportion to the cabin because it was the latch for the mail. The cabin’s chimney was used as the mailbox flag. Aron thought this mailbox was peculiar for having so much detail. The putrisomn houses on this side of the neighborhood street all had more detail than normal. There was so much evidence of den activity that Aron, now hiding behind a tree layered in putrisomn, was almost sure he had found Tilson’s hideout, or the den of whoever was hiding his haze in this remote location.
Anxiously, Aron crossed the lawn to the front door and tried to look through a window, but only saw thick putrisomn in its place. Then, things got noticeably quiet.
The doors exploded. Storming out of the house was a galloping, racing blur of brown fur that shook with every powerful stomp. It was a massive brown bear, whose weight and strength hung down from every part of it. Ancient-looking runes glowed purple on its limbs, chest and back. Jesse staggered and backed himself against the putrisomn wall of the house as the bear reared around on the lawn to face Aron. He looked into the beast’s eyes and saw that they were human: ice blue ones. Panic struck his chest. This bear was no golem. It was another Reader who had shape-shifted, a nagual.
I’ve seen this bear before.
The bear charged. Aron’s eyes widened and he hesitated before juking his weight left, away from the front door, then going right at the last second, as the bear crashed into the putrisomn wall of the house, powerful and giant claws first.
Retreating in a hurry, Aron began to run down the driveway until he saw the patrolling golem heading straight for him. It was methodic as it zeroed in on Aron. The golem dropped its gear-like arms, which were spiked with barbs, and also began to charge at Aron. He turned around and ran toward his only option: through the crashed doors and into the house.
Aron barely dodged the bear again as he leapt through the doorway, and it barreled against the side of the garage as it let out a body-shaking roar. The golem kept up the chase right behind the bear. Aron ran down a hallway and looked for a back door exit of some sort, but the hallway ended at a fork: left or right. He was about to attempt to go straight through the wall itself, until he realized at the last instant that all three options were pointless. There was likely something else waiting behind them. The patrolling golem, the nagual ambushing him, the fact that they were both chasing him deeper into this den they intended to protect: this was all a trap.
With the bear on his heels, Aron ran straight at the wall that ended the hallway and ran up it. He threw the top of his weight behind him and tried with all of his might to kick the air up and behind his head. His backflip was a graceful success, as he landed behind the bear, which again crashed into the wall with an agitated grunt, followed by a roar. Aron was still facing the hallway intersection.
Without looking behind him, Aron knew the golem had probably also chased after him and was right behind him. He instinctively ducked down and performed a reverse somersault, simultaneously dodging the golem’s side-sweeping strike and rolled under one of its legs. Aron kicked the golem in the back and it tangled itself with the bear, which had turned around and was attempting to head back up the hall for Aron.
He sprinted for the doorway only to see the putrisomn that had been demolished from the bear’s initial crash was now reforming on its hinges to close off the doorway. The putrisomn was growing the door back right in front of him, which was a normal occurrence. But it wasn’t normal for it to happen so swiftly.
Such a feat had to take a lot of concentration. When a Reader chooses their Paragon path for specialty on the Plane, such as a nagual, or shapeshifter, they need to focus heavily on their expertise. A nagual uses most of their focus and willpower to maintain their beastly form. So a second Reader, a weaver, was likely manipulating the putrisomn and controlling the golem from nearby.
There was too much happening, too quickly. Aron could not process it all. He just knew that he was outmatched and outwitted. And now, possibly trapped. He charged at the door. Aron focused on his breathing and the blood flow of oxygen to his legs and his arms, and mentally tried to make them burn with energy. His speed picked up as he leaned in and pushed off with his legs, and smashed himself into the door.
A memory flashed into Aron’s mind amidst the madness. To be limitless, you must first know what limits you, Yusef had told him many, many times. Learning about how the body works, where strength comes from, and how energy is gathered and spent are all aspects of what being a powerful guanjun, or champion, entails. The Plane was no simple dream land. Wanting to fly really badly would not make you fly here. That only worked in subconscious dreams. Readers who trained and learned how to fly on the Plane were legendary. Aron knew a lot of tricks on the Plane. But he certainly was not a Paragon, or an expert in any particular discipline. He soon wished he had spent more time focusing on and training his advanced speed and strength.
The putrisomn door splintered but did not break through. On his hands and knees, Aron was dazed as his arms groped around the floor amidst the few broken chunks of wooden putrisomn, which began to fly back toward the door to solidify it again. He had failed and was now trapped inside this den.
He felt excruciating pain in his back and right shoulder blade, screamed, and crashed flat onto the ground. The golem had overtaken him and slammed its barbed arm into Aron’s back. The barbs were lodged in deep and Aron, still on his hands and knees, painfully tried to tear himself off but couldn’t. He felt warm blood ooze out and creep down his ribs onto the sides of his body.
Aron glanced over his shoulder at the golem to see how he could possibly escape its grip. Past the golem, the bear nagual was charging back to him from down the hall. The golem stood ready on four legs, and while its barbed arm was stuck in Aron and held him down, a sixth limb was raised, ready to strike. Up close now, he briefly noticed peculiar etchings and markings on its body. He thought he even saw a pictograph of weapons on it, stacked in a random way. He didn’t stare for long, because there were bigger things to worry about at the moment.
The bear galloped over in front of Aron and let out a deafening roar into his face. Saliva roped out from its mouth onto Aron’s face, pushed by hot breath.
Tilting its barbed arm upward, the golem forced Aron’s defeated body up. He screamed as his torso was lifted while his legs stretched out behind him helplessly. His face was brought high off the ground.
The bear stood up on its hind legs and began to shake. Its fur vibrated violently and it brought up its arms closer to its body as patches of fur began to fall off. Its legs began to get skinnier, and its arms got smaller. The bear began to shrink and continue to shed its fur. It took a human shape, and a tall white man formed. The icy blue eyes were still there. They stared directly into Aron’s eyes.
The fit man said, “Took you long enough.” Then he gave a powerful kick with the ball of his foot straight to Aron’s nose. He didn’t even see it until it was in his face. Then he just saw pangs of red and yellow as his eyes opened and closed. Blood gushed down over his lips, into his mouth, and down his chin. The force of the blow sunk the spikes from the golem’s arm deeper into his back as he felt the tips of the barbs scrape against his shoulder blade and the back of his rib cage.
Do something, Aron thought to himself. He screamed it in his own head. Do something, now!
The man with icy blue eyes raised his foot high and rested it on top of Aron’s head, which was a few feet from the wooden floor of the hallway. “Now I don’t need to worry about you anymore,” he said, as he shoved his foot and Aron’s head along with it, straight down. The spiked barbs splattered blood as they were torn out of Aron’s back muscles. His head smashed, face first, into the floor. There was a quick, yet distinct sound and feeling of cracking in his face.