Juniper's Fiction

What it says on the tin! My name is Juni (25 y/o NB) and I like writing fiction, mainly fantasy and poetry!

[junifiction]

Howdy! I'm Juniper! Welcome to my writing Tumblr! I mainly do speculative fiction, but some other creative writing ventures of mine are posted here as well.

I'm gonna use this pinned post for a variety of things. One big thing:

I will block whoever I deem necessary, but especially minors or ageless blogs. Some of my writing may contain more violent, graphic or NSFW content, so I would rather be safe than sorry.

Below is an organization of my writing. Enjoy!

Soul Engine

First

On the Ethics of Creating and Powering a Soul Engine

Second

On Life as an Apprentice Necromancer

Third

Fourth

On Restruvo

Fifth

Sixth

Anomalous Soul Resonance Record #1

Seventh

On Differences in Anatomy #1

Eighth

Anomalous Soul Resonance Record #2

In Somnium

On Assorted Side Projects

Tears of the Cosmos

Prologue - Friends in Space

Nova Carnivora: Part One - Hungry For You

Nova Carnivora: Part Two - Re-Humanise Yourself

Divine Turmoil Excerpts

Prey

Breath of Dawn

A Lesson on Limits

Crucible

On a Hill, Above an Empire

Poetry

The Girl From Kalaptar

Thunderous Bones

Vampire

Executive Dysfunction

Bindings

As Light Beckons

My Starry Night

The Winds of Epsilon Boreas

Short Stories/Plays

Undead Sun

The Tell-Tale Squawk

Assorted Writing

On Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey and "Classic Hollywood Cinema"

[junifiction]

Nova Carnivora: Part Two - Re-Humanise Yourself

Moribund closed the cabin door and took stock of Atlan's room. It was the same size as his own, which was slightly larger than Chord's, but Atlan's cabin felt far less stuffy than his tomb of literature. In lieu of a mountain range of alien texts, Atlan's room was set up with a terraced hydroponics garden. The air felt fresh and humid; while the ship's filters were sufficient for life support, they felt stale on the lungs. Atlan's garden balanced this, creating perhaps the most comfortable room on the ship. Occasionally, Nifghif would assist in tending the garden purely for the selfish reward of a more humid experience. Chord was initially against the hydroponics, rightly claiming that microbes from strange plants and excess moisture could sabotage the air filtration. That discussion was the first time Atlan exercised his powers of persuasion over the engineer, and shortly after, Chord was found rigging specialized layers of filtration in the cabin.

The two terraces cascaded down from each wall steeply. Each one was constructed with five or six rows of channels, angled slightly to allow any excess nutrient solution inside the channels to flow down and be reintroduce to the storage tank, ready to be pumped back again to feed the plants their delicious food. Above each row, a thin strip of purple lights shone down. This was to prioritize the wavelengths of light that plants needed most, but if he could, Atlan would have installed a micro sun in order to give his babies as much natural sunlight as possible. But the purple grow lamps didn't short the ship's power, so a compromise was made.

One wall was entirely populated with a small assortment of legumes from Atlan's home planet. Often, these were used during "Fusion Nights," where each crew member prepares a dish from their culture, combines them, then, as a collective, they discuss what their home worlds would think of the fusion.

The other terrace housed the various and sundry specimens Atlan collected from across the stars. Exotic flowers, unique fruits, and now, carnivorous monsters. The sprouts Moribund marked for death were easy to find, as they were the smallest and were already forming teeth. This terrace was less crowded, as many of the specimens were kept in clear, synthetic polymer climate-controlled pods to recreate their more specific environments. The samples were small, given the limited space, but they were highly treasured. Atlan spent the majority of his wages on equipment and nutrients for the plants. His clothing was simple and homely, hand repaired and tenderly cared for. He had his plants, his crew, and a few trinkets from home.

Moribund paused, facing the terrace with the carnivorous sprouts. There were five of them, arranged in a line on their own row. Moribund held his hand against the channel and activated his spell. There was a stutter, a shift in the structure of the channel's plastic and metal components. There was no microscope on hand to view this, but a coded pulse, an alteration of energy, and a chemical reaction moved along channel. One by one, the sprouts' roots and stems were told to disassemble.

Moribund's spell instructed all of the plants' DNA to separate their protons and neutrons. With quiet pops, the plants ruptured and turned to dust.

It was done. With a satisfied sigh, Moribund exited the cabin, placed a reassuring hand on Atlan's shoulder, then walked away.

Two standard days later, The Tears of the Cosmos made port in the Nelumbo system. Nelumbo was a small star at over 210,000 kilometers in radius. Three rocky, barren orbs orbited the dim sun, a crunchy accompaniment to Nelumbo's subtle rays.

Dark red light wormed its way through any open viewports on the ship. A cylindrical space complex orbited the second planet from the sun, providing a dreary but crucial pocket of trade and respite for this part of the galaxy. It was long and tube shaped, spinning rapidly so as to keep its occupants to the floors with centripetal force. Moribund would lecture anyone who referred to this as gravity, as the astronavigator would sooner acquire rabies than let someone misunderstand basic physics.

Rhux lugged the Cosmos to an area marked for corvettes and smaller vessels. The station itself was geosynchronous, locked in orbit with the planet below. Nelumbo Beta was a gray-brown mass that rarely moved across the station's domed horizon. It acted as a constant reminder for any itinerant workers on leave from the various mining platforms on the surface that work was always waiting. When the station's orbit caused the planet to pass between Nelumbo and the station, it's massive shadow signaled an approximation of nighttime for the station's more permanent residents.

As the docking magnets locked, Moribund let out a sigh. He was eager to stretch his legs, peruse wares, and explore a new locale. Chord, in his wisdom, had roped Rhux into accompanying him on the important errands: bribing the harbormaster, acquiring fuel for ship and crew, restock important materials, and visit any denizens on the captain's calling list. With no large cargo to offload, Atlan and Nifghif were free to follow in Moribund's footsteps on his excursion, much to his chagrin.

"Mori, the pub is that way," Atlan said. "Let's take a load off and have a drink!"

Moribund's face locked in an incredulous expression. "You should know by now, dear friend, that a rowdy space port pub is not exactly my 'scene'."

Atlan brushed the wizard's worries aside. "I doubt you'd find your scene in Nelumbo, notēiccāuh."

"Alas, one cannot know anything for certain without first pursuing truth."

"I thought you scholarly types were all about learning new things!" Atlan said. "How about experiencing a new place instead?"

Moribund frowned. "I would sooner spacewalk in my sleeping gown."

Atlan chuckled. "Understood, understood. How about you, Nif? Up for a round?"

Nifghif pulled out his digi-wallet, peaked at the contents, then turned and rumbled, "Only if you're paying."

"A drink for you, my friend, is always money well spent!" Having found his drinking buddy, Atlan cheered and tried to throw his arm around one of Nifghif's shoulders. The pair made their way, melding into the crowd.

Moribund walked alone. The drone of the marketplace washed over him, buzzing around. Tuning out crowds had become a specialty for him, albeit one that drained his mind and left him exhausted. The destination was always the goal. There was no time for shenanigans or distractions. In this moment, he was focused on locating the nearest reputable shop to update his maps with any relevant transit information. Entropy be damned, Moribund wouldn't let cosmic chance be the end of him.

Nelumbo Station's astronavigation shop was more of a series of dreary queues than a store. Service terminals line one dingy wall. A line of patrons formed from each terminal, stretching across the interior space to reach the other dingy wall. Moribund silently fell into formation with the rest of the crowd. The motley navigators and star sailors were mostly silent; no one wanted to be waiting here. The few who spoke either grumbled to their neighbors in line or mumbled at the service terminals. They mumbled about fees, and about tariffs, and about how slow the line was moving. Moribund began to tune it out. He just kept shuffling.

Moribund was knocked out of his dissociative state by the subtle drone that built up in the shop. Nearly three dozen voices whispered and filled the space with noise. Their owners' craned their necks to look towards the door. A quick glance informed Moribund. The source of the commotion was a group of five stark white uniforms, crisp and pure, breaking the cardinal law of the queue and pressing their way towards the nearest terminal. There clothes marked them as representatives of the Galactic Authority, thus giving them priority over civilian patrons.

A confident and beligerent human fool in front of Moribund muttered something about using violence to enforce the queue, status be damned. The wizard didn't quite catch the specific details of the threat, but a violent incident would put a real damper on Moribund's day, especially given the nature of the queue-breakers. As the fool began to leave his spot in line and harangue the nearest rule breaker, Moribund sighed. Stepping forward, he "tripped" over the man's feet, causing the latter to stumble forward. Moribund caught the man's hand, mentally grimacing to himself and steadying him.

"Sorry," Moribund said flatly. The man regained his footing and turned towards the wizard, intending to redirect his rant towards Moribund. Through the held hand, Moribund sent a surge of magic flowing up the man's arm, across his torso, up his neck, and into his mouth. The intent was simple; alter the particles in the air within the man's mouth in order to affect the taste.

Bitter, acrid air danced across the fool's tastebuds, causing him to stammer. His eyes went wide as he dry heaved slightly.

"You don't look so good, pal," Moribund said. "Maybe you should get some fresh air. The man, still shuddering, gave Moribund a wary look before pushing his way towards the door.

Moribund began to regret his attempt at de-escalation. To himself, he was glad the line in front of him was one soul shorter. The problem came as Moribund watched his former queue neighbor walk towards the door. Most of the shop's occupants stared angrily at the Authority's party. A few others, mostly those behind Moribund in the queue, watched the retching man vacate the building. One soul stared directly at Moribund. In the middle of four armed Authority personnel walked a middle aged man of average stature. His hair was kept fairly neat and fashionably short, with evident graying at the temples. Even at the length it was, his dark hair boasted a slight waviness, hinting at the potential for loose curls. His uniform, white with golden trim, was spotless save for the small brooch that clasped a half-cape onto his person. The brooch was familiar to Moribund, though he couldn't place the significance of it at that time. It reminded him of iconography of a star with rays spiraling off its round center. More important to Moribund was that the man was making direct eye contact with him.

Hoping to act natural, Moribund broke eye contact as smoothly as he could manage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man return his gaze forward. His four guards fanned out to grant him privacy at the terminal and, just as quickly as they arrived, they were gone. Nearly forty five minutes later, Moribund exited the astronav shop. With his business conducted, he stood along the edge of the street, mulling over his interactions in the shop and debating whether to return to solitude on the ship or seeking out Atlan. Just as he was choosing solitude, a wall of white surrounded him.

Damn, Moribund cursed mentally.

"Pardon my intrusion, as you seem deep in thought," a voice said next to Moribund. The wizard, unflappable as he was, successfully hid his shock and turned.

Double damn, Moribund thought. The Authority navigator stood next to him, offering a handshake.

"Ouranodromos," he said politely. Moribund's interest was piqued by the name. It was Daxeron. From Daxeros, the originaff the Galactic Authority. High born. A Galactic elite.

Triple damn. Moribund's body wanted to freeze, but reason screamed at him about the risks of not accepting the greeting. Reluctantly, he extended his hand and shook.

“Moribund Aznar.”

Ouranodromos smiled. “A unique name,” he said. His voice was measured, its accent unlike anything Moribund had ever heard.

This was his first time meeting a High Daxeron, and hopefully his last. If Ouranodromos appeared middle aged as a Daxeron, then he was likely a couple centuries older than a human from beyond.

“My parents had great expectations for me,” Moribund said sarcastically. Ouranodromos tilted his head in brief confusion before continuing.

“I noticed you in the astronav shop,” he said vaguely, his smile still holding.

Moribund squinted. Get to the point.

“At first I was just surprised by your unique attire,” Ouranodromos said, gently patting Moribund’s sash. “However, I noticed the strange behavior of the man in front of you.”

Moribund looked around. The four guards were armed with blasters. Surrounded as he was, escape was risky. He couldn’t change nearly enough matter to debilitate this number of threats, at least not quickly enough. A rifle butt would crack over his head before he could get to the second. Many people had tried to harm Moribund for using magic. Most people in the galaxy knew it should be impossible; reality was governed by laws as immutable as the Galactic Authority of Daxeros.

“Imagine my surprise seeing magic out in Nelumbo,” Ouranodromos said. “Do you hail from Daxeros?”

A less antagonistic reaction than Moribund was expecting. Moribund made a connection in his head and filed it for later.

“No.”

“Fascinating! I have only met two magicians, but both are High Daxeron.”

Moribund frowned. “Can I help, you, master Ouranodromos?

The navigator chuckled. “I assure you, there is no need for such formality with me,” he said jovially. “I am just amazed that three magicians would be at the same port at once. What brings you to Nelumbo?”

“Business. Just passing through.”

“What is your business, Moribund?”

Moribund’s face darkened. “My own.”

Another chuckle. “Please, I don’t mean any harm. I guess it would be impolite of me to ask such information of you without offering up my own.”

Ouranodromos bowed slightly. “Dominus Ouranodromos, Eponymous Archon for the Rex Sacrorum.”

Moribund felt a sense of dread wash over him. He should have let that damn fool get himself killed trying to tell off a noble.

Dominus marked him as a noble academic or a clergyman of some kind. Archon meant that within his area of service, he was amongst the highest ranking. The term Rex Sacrorum was unfamiliar to Moribund, but the way Ouranodromos phrased it implied that it could be a ship, or perhaps the name of the organization within the Galactic Authority the Dominus worked for. Or perhaps the title of an even more powerful noble.

This was unfair.

What was a man of such standing even doing in Nelumbo?

Who are these magicians he mentioned?

Thoughts zipped across Moribund’s mind as he tried to calculate the best way to navigate the nightmare of a social situation he found himself in. He needed help. He needed to invent a method of traversing backwards in time, at least long enough to prevent himself from ever garnering Ouranodromos’s attention.

“Hey! Notēiccāuh!” a voice called.

Moribund stood, corrected. Now it was a nightmare.

Atlan jogged up the ring of guards. “Excuse me, fellas,” he said graciously, as he gestured for them to part. Moribund saw the guards grip their weapons tighter before Ouranodromos held up a hand.

“It’s alright, men,” he said, a satisfied smile on his face. “How may we help you, citizen?”

Atlan, salt of the earth that he was, grinned. “I just saw you talking to Mori, so I thought I would join.” With a nod, he turned to Moribund. “Nif and I are heading back; credits didn’t stretch as far as I thought they would.”

Moribund glanced at Ouranodromos before saying, “No one comes to Nelumbo for the cost of living, that is certain.”

Atlan laughed. “Damn straight,” he said, pulling Mori into a bear hug.

As Moribund felt himself be picked up, he heard Atlan whisper, “All good?” before setting the wizard down.

Moribund nodded. His worries that Atlan would misread the situation were assuaged. “I was just chatting with a fellow navigator,” he said. Turning to Ouranodromos, he bowed slightly stated, “Moribund Aznar, Navigator for the Tears of the Cosmos, in service to Westward Wind Shipping. This is my brother, Atlan, a laborer for the same.

“A mage working on a freighter?” Ouranodromos asked, his eyebrow raising.

Moribund shrugged. “They have good benefits,” he lied.

Ouranodromos looked at Moribund for a moment. Moribund shivered as he felt himself being appraised by this high ranking individual.

“Tell me, Moribund,” the Dominus said. “What is the fastest way to travel between two planets?”

The question surprised Moribund, not due to any sense of difficulty. Quite the opposite, in fact. “A faster-than-light warp drive. Expensive, likely only found on Authority or Daxeron vessels.”

“Say you have no funds and only a sublight drive; how would you advise your crew to achieve a similar result?”

Trickier. Moribund paused. Better to not mention the illegal near-light speed drive his crew was using. “I would advise them to give up and use an FTL ring.”

“Interesting. Your reasoning?”

Moribund sighed. “There is no safe way to bring a ship to that speed without the drive. The calculations for interstellar travel already requires such minute calculations, and the best way to achieve near-light speeds would risk launching the entire vessel, in the best case scenario, careening into empty space.”

“What method is this?”

The questions were starting to get annoying, mainly because there were four armed guards and an Atlan breathing down his neck.

“A gravity assist around a celestial body, though it would have be massive. At that point, it would likely require a sling maneuver with a star.”

“Intriguing.”

Moribund scowled. “May I ask what the point in this line of thought is, Dominus?” In hindsight, Moribund realized he put too much disdain on the title as he said it, but his irritation was reaching its limit.

Ouranodromos gave a sharp laugh and looked Moribund in the eyes. “Nothing particular. I’d like to speak at greater length with you about your methodology for navigation and travel. How long will your crew be in port?”

Moribund held his gaze. “Till tomorrow.”

Ouranodromos grinned. It felt sinister.

“Perfect!” he declared. He produced a data pad. “Here is the docking information for my ship. I would love to ferry you out to it for a small soiree we have planned for some other guests.”

Other guests. The magicians.

Curiosity urged Moribund to accept, but caution called him back down.

“No, that won't do,” Atlan interjected cheerfully. "None of us can read a star chart like Mori, not even the Captain, much less do the math to get us anywhere."

Ouranodromos smiled as one does at child, looking from Atlan to Moribund. “Well, since your crew can’t leave without you, perhaps they should join as well?”

Though phrased as a question, Moribund couldn’t help but feel the underlying command. This nobleman could not be dissuaded. He would have Moribund as his guest.

Jaw clenched, Moribund accepted the data pad. “I will go inform the rest of the crew of the great honor you have bestowed upon us.”

Ouranodromos was pleased. “Excellent! I anticipate your arrival.”

With a nod to his guards, the Dominus walked away, a spot of white washed in red that parted the crowd with his steps.

[longstoryshort-143]

i am studying english lit, philosophy and sociology at college and freud has come up in all three subjects LIKE GET AWAY FROM ME YOU WEIRDO 😭

[tanadrin]

would be fun if language acquisition echoed language evolution a la recapitulation theory. kids going through an indo european phase.

[jadagul]

https://xkcd.com/2567/

[tanadrin]

fuuuuuck there really is an xkcd for everything

[bigscaryd]

Quick put an animal book in front of him and ask him what this guy is

[nordenflycht]

there's an xkcd for that also

[keepcalmandcarriefischer]

[maeamian]

If you're in the US military or National Guard, and are given an illegal or unconstitutional order, the GI Rights hotline [phone]) is there to help give you the support you need to do the right thing by refusing it. It would be good to think about this now before it becomes a live issue for you and it would be smart of you to memorize that number.

[maeamian]

You can reblog this without your thoughts about the US Military, btw, that's allowed.

[helltothenaw]

In fact: you SHOULD share it without your thoughts on the US Military. If someone in the military sees this number and is considering it, they already know. Just let them see the resource.

[ogrishpuntocom]

nobuddy feels like they have a sharp attention span these days, right? and we all just click “agree on terms of service” because its hard to love yourself sometimes, well

enter Terms of Service, Didn’t Read: a website and a browser addon that streamlines the terms of service of many popular web services to be read by the tech sunday drivers.

It’s graded from A (great) to E (awful) and if you have the addon you have access to the info about the website on your bar

[ogrishpuntocom]

this post came back to me like a dear son from war, hello ol boy

[practicallysprout]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Wrote my first fanfiction in like 10 years. I've been obsessed with The Long Walk and wanted to venture a small 'what-if'.

Please be nice but criticism is accepted!!!

[junifiction]

Finally done with finals! Now, I can put all my effort into ignoring my WIPs!

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

Donald Trump is totally not panicking:

True! — nervous — very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses — not destroyed — not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily — how calmly I can tell you the whole story. --"The Tell-Tale Heart," by Edgar Allan Poe

[glumshoe]

what do I have to do to go to events where people are dressed nicely and there are plates of free cheese cubes

[nowlander]

Go to the inaugurations of littlely known artists’ exhibitions.

We are always begging for people to attend, there actually is the “hack” to invite your whole family but tell them to pretend they don’t know you. People with money are more willing to buy your work if they think many people likes it, so your mere presence eating our cheese and canapes will be a great helps. Please bring whoever you want too.

[glumshoe]

Don’t mind if I do!

I will dress like an eccentric weirdo if that helps.

[themightyglamazon]

[modmad]

one time a pal of my pals was having a tough time selling their work in an art exhibit and called us up on the last day, ‘us’ being about 8 students who were Very hungry and also bored. We put on the nicest/artsiest clothes we had available (one dude had a legit fancy suit and put on some shades which were Bright Pink he looked like a movie star I swear) and rolled up to the show in pairs, separately. Fine Art Pal has some nice paintings! but nobody is really paying attention to them, so after getting some fancy cheese cubes in a manner that did not betray that we were actually a ravenous pack of starving students we casually wander around the show and then, fairly individually, drift to a stop by their work. Some of us even walked away, then came back a bit later ‘captivated’ by the art (it was actually really nice but recall we were all poor as shit and this was a help hustle). Our group’s interest naturally caught other folks, and eventually there was a small clump of about 15 people musing over this art, and within ten minutes the biggest piece had been snatched up by a shrewd investor. by the end of the exhibit every single piece was sold. It helped pay off the artist’s student debt and on that success they got into another exhibit! They’ve been doing well ever since.

So yes, please attend new artist shows, you get free cheese, get to look at nice art, and you can really help out people who deserve more attention.

[junifiction]

Divine Turmoil Excerpt: A Lesson on Limits

"You are doing it again."

The frustration in her voice was palpable but could be ignored easily if one tried hard enough.

"If I'm gonna figure this out, I need some practice or I won't see results. You said you would never teach a fool."

Sabak wryly replied.

From this angle, Sabak couldn't see Felix's eyes behind her face and yet he still felt her glare. She was silent, save for the raking of coals in the fire pit. Sabak resumed his practice, carving runes across the air as fast as his injuries allowed him. He didn't put forth all of his mana, just enough to kick up a slight current of air. He felt at peace as his fingers danced through the current. Felix scoffed from across the fire pit.

"You are doing it wrong, too."

Beyond frustration, her voice held only a flat neutrality. For as few words as Felix used, she seemed to want to impart volumes. Her face and robes obscured her, but her words obscured far more.

"Oh no, I wish there was some hermit that would teach me something more correct!"

Sabak said with a grin.

"Was that sarcasm, Sabak?"

"Perhaps? Who knows? There's not a single soul around to teach me the arcane, much less someone to teach me sarcasm."

Sabak declared in mock exasperation.

Whatever prediction Sabak made of Felix or however he expected Felix to respond was different from what actually occurred. Felix stood, wordless, and calmly reached for a nearby stone of moderate size before heaving it at Sabak's head. Despite her stature, years of hard living had left her with sufficient physicality to startle Sabak, sending the young man ducking to the ground in an inelegant dodge.

"What the fuck, Felix?"

Sabak was angry, as one is when someone heaves a stone at their head. He began to rise, right hand planted and ready to turn on Felix but paused as the top layer of skin from the pads of his fingers tore off from sticking to the newly formed ice surrounding him. Pain turned to anger, then to shock as Sabak cried out and stumbled backwards.

With his hand throbbing, he glanced at Felix. A gnarled hand reached out from her robe, her palm facing up and a trail of mana streaming forth, forming a vivid rune six inches away. The rune was finished and written, yet the mana in the rune still flowed, a slow pulse of energy that melted and solidified in the space between them.

He pointed with his injured hand.

"That! Show me how to do such things!"

Shock and some of his anger turned to glee as Sabak marveled at the display. Felix exhaled harshly against her wooden face.

"You insist on injury. I will not shield you from harm. But soon pain will limit you. You will always be a failure."

Sabak finished getting up. These were bold words from a stranger, and, in his opinion, ridiculous words.

"Give me some time and a chance, hermit. I'll show you what a true mage looks like."

Felix shook her head and replied flatly.

"You are lacking Will, not practice."

Sabak frowned, his annoyance deepening with his lips. "Will?"

"The Will to cast true magic."

Sabak's frown turned into a darker grimace.

"I cast magic well enough, Felix. What I need is to be taught something. Something stronger, something built to win."

Felix laughed, a halting sound that crashed stiffly across the clearing.

"You need more than education, child. If you can not Will forth a rune now, then you are ready to learn nothing. Nothing beyond petty tricks."

She moved her palm and the rune melted into a new shape, a new spell. The rune began to split and morph into a string of text connected by one steady flow of mana. The wind picked up and began to blow towards her, slowly draining the heat from Sabak and the whole clearing.

Over the rushing of wind, she called out.

"Replication eludes you. Your magic is flippant; weak."

Sabak's frustration grew.

"Flippant? Weak? All magic is plenty. In this damned world, there is nothing better."

Sabak didn't notice, but the wind generated by Felix was disrupted slightly. One current met another as Sabak gathered mana into his extremities. It was an impulse, or rage, that prompted the change, rather than conscious thought. This intrigued Felix. Not due to any surprise. Felix was rarely surprised. But rather, she was struck by inspiration. A new hypothesis was formed; one she would enjoy testing.

Alas, it required her house to be destroyed.

"I ask, Sabak Sahuuli: Why do you deserve to learn?"

Sabak scoffed, preparing to evade the question. He had better luck dodging stones.

"What makes you think you deserve my answer?"

The wind picked up, a battle of pressure and temperature manifesting in the space between them. A small funnel formed as the two mages' mana competed for the atmosphere. Felix's answer was simple, yet more potent than she predicted:

"That is an easy lesson: For I am simply better."

Sabak's awareness of the situation was dulled by injuries both physical and verbal. As he raised his hand to begin writing a rune, a dull outline popped into existence, hovering in the air before him. He did not recognize the rune. It caused him to pause.

Felix saw the rune as well. A smile formed behind her face. Just a bit more... He was close.

The winds around Sabak increased, changing from a cold breeze to a warm gale. Tongues of flame flickered between the stones of the fire pit. Nearby trees began to shudder, and a hiss began to shuffle into the clearing. The soil kicked up, rushing in towards Sabak and dispersing in loose arcs around his feet. 

This rune was a wonder to Sabak. A horrid apparition. He was sickened by how drawn to it he was. Magic is nothing but destruction, frenzy, and control. The winds wrapped around him as he focused on the rune. The fire pit was all but extinguished and the trees began to groan and creak beneath the strain. The loose arcs of soil wrapping around Sabak's feet became faster, shallowly scouring the earth before sending fine debris scattering across the clearing. Unable to contain his mixed emotions, Sabak turned his gaze upon Felix. The rune became fully formed, a chaotic, jagged shape that seemed to vibrate space and emanate Sabak's rage.

His tone was shaky and breaking, as if the words and their meaning were forcing themselves out of his mouth half-formed.

"You lack the right, above or below, to tell me that magic can't be mine! And by the Healer, you lack the right to say that you are better than me!"

The winds built sharply as unresolved emotion flooded into the rune, taking vast amounts of Sabak's mana with it. Instantly, the young man regretted ever letting himself feel this way. The sudden loss of mana felt as if all feeling in his body was removed, pins and needles racking his muscles, until, like his numbed limbs, he fell asleep. Unconsciousness hit him like a thrown stone.

The next morning, Sabak woke up, a frustratingly regular scenario. Morning light filtered through bent tree limbs and debris. Bleary eyed and aching, he surveyed his surroundings, half-expecting Felix to have abandoned him, leaving him to be claimed by the forest. The morning mist was... acrid? It wasn't mist. It was sharper. It was smoke!

Sabak shot up, forcing his body to look around, to search for Felix. He found her turned away from him, sitting in the entryway of the still, broken, and smoldering skeleton of what was once her home. The fire pit was gone, though a new fire had been built on its corpse. Her face was removed, though what little was revealed to be beneath was obscured by smoke and shadow. Clear blue eyes pierced into Sabak as Felix registered that he had awoken. She picked up her face and returned it to its position.

Felix spoke first. Her gaze was cold and steady, like a stone walkway leading to a safe haven.

"The reason true magic is not something that can be practiced as you do is because it requires the mage to reduce themself, as if making soup stock, into three elements." "Your mind and mana must become sharper than they are now. If you truly want to be a mage, then you will remember the three fundamentals of all magic."

She tossed the water skin to Sabak, staring at him. He finished a long, much needed drink of water, and looked over at her; no trace of the previous night's anger remained on either of their faces.

"What are the fundamentals, Felix?"

Felix grinned behind her face. Her latest experiment was functioning according to her prediction, but she would need more data before drawing any conclusions.

"Magic is nothing but Three: Passion, Expression, and then Catharsis made manifest. As is true for every mage."

Sabak considered her words, something he rarely did for anyone. After some time in thought, he struggled to his feet, shaking off the shell of sleep. "Alright, then. Thank you for the lesson."

Felix simply nodded.

"Pack your belongings, Sabak."

Sabak looked concerned but spoke with a touch of sarcasm.

"What, after one lesson, I'm banished? Is this because I destroyed your house?"

Felix shook her head then replied.

"My duty is now to teach; To correct missteps or fatal misunderstandings. My home's destruction, although, Has not eluded my thoughts. We will travel to Taivus. There, you will learn how to fight."

Sabak paused.

"I can already fight."

Felix hummed slightly.

"Better than you cast magic?"

Sabak conceded.

"Fine, point taken. Onward to Taivus."

[junifiction]

Undead Sun

“Eyes up, folks!” The cry through the intercom blasted away the light sleep that had consumed Shaanti the night before. They shot awake. Muscle memory took over. Their right hand snapped above them as they rose, narrowly saving them from hitting their head against the top of their bunk’s alcove. While a custom uniform had been easy to make, no such accommodations were possible for Shaanti and their people’s exceptional height. They swiftly rolled off the bunk, rotating their torso and moving their legs around ninety degrees to land gently on their metatarsal-phalangeal joints and narrowly avoiding their bunkmate, a grumpy Gleptal astronomer named Galört, who rested below. The night-time lighting on the ship had already begun its slow transition to become colder and brighter, a meandering gradient from a soft orange glow to a sharp white that made the stark alabaster walls and floors shine. Shaanti refused to check the time. The galactic standard time was useful for day-to-day logistics, as extended hyperspace journeys tend to render one’s circadian rhythm a bit moot. But Shaanti didn’t need a watch to know that excitement had kept them from any restful sleep. Today was the day, as much as day was any measurement of time in the galaxy.  

“Rise and shine, Galört,” Shaanti mumbled at their roommate. The amphibian astronomer gave a very unprofessional response before turning over in his bunk. 

“Hyperspace ends in two minutes, people!” the intercom continued. “Be on deck or you’ll miss the big moment!” It was Captain Ikmetli. His voice was fresh and brassy, not a trace of exhaustion in his words. There was only unbridled eagerness. Shaanti wondered how the captain was able to stay so cheerful so easily in the isolation and vastness of space, particularly during long-term hyperspace transit. Was it simply a matter of difference in Varush and Human biology? Or was it the difference in the species psychology? Or was the difference Ikmetli himself? Shaanti paused this mental inquiry and began to quickly change into their plain, orange duty gear, not eager to be the last one to the command deck to see their destination. 

They moved quickly through the corridors of the Aurelius, past the remaining crew quarters, and past the head, and the galley, and the gym, the science wing, the med bay. They arrived on deck with a sense of triumph swelling within them. The observation window currently provided the occupants with a view of the morose swirl of the hyperspace corona. Endless blues, greens, and purples rippled across view, crashing and churning with one another in an violent cosmic dance. Many of the crew had already gathered, especially the Human crew members. Everyone was bubbly, and the drone of chatter that filled the overcrowded command deck was strong. Some of Shaanti’s fellow science officers greeted them warmly, and as such, Shaanti was obliged to return the greeting, opting to join them along the back wall. Captain Ikmetli sat in his command seat and conversed with the piloting team and astronavigation team on their first steps once they reached the system, a critical transition that would determine how smooth the rest of the expedition was once the hurdle of hyperspace was complete.  

A signal blared! Triggered by the engine team, the final countdown marked the time until the Aurelius’s departure from hyperspace. The anticipation palpable as the room thickened with silence, save for the countdown signal. Years of training, collaboration, and calculations went into this expedition. Every crew member of the Aurelius waded through the tension, the excitement, and the gravity of this moment.  

10... 9... 8... 7... 

Shaanti held their breath. As the key astro-mathematician onboard, the puzzle of establishing a hyperspace connection to this system was equally daunting and fulfilling. They were overjoyed when their calculations were confirmed in triplicate by the Galactic Authority’s Science Exploratory Committee, greenlighting the entire operation. 

6... 5... 4... 3...  

In mere seconds, the crew of the Aurelius would be the first known organic beings to lay eyes upon the pulsar PSR J1300+1240. They would enter at a distance twice the aphelion of the furthest planet in the system and slowly make their way inwards to establish an outpost on that third and safest planet. That outpost would become a research station, the first of its kind to study the rare breed of neutron stars from within its own system. The math was clear. Shaanti’s math made this trip possible. Mere seconds away from history, from the future. 

2... 1... 

The universe turned to white nothingness as the crew was blinded by the exit to hyperspace. This was abnormal, as empty void tended to be darker than pitch. In the first milliseconds of receiving this extraordinary light to their retinas, Shaanti knew something had gone wrong. To Shaanti’s credit, they couldn’t have known that the designation of PSR J1300+1240 as a pulsar had become incorrect. The data they had been given was outdated, it was old. It wasn’t their fault, though they would blame themself for it. The reptilian eyes of the Varush adjusted to light well, but even then, the searing brightness was too intense. Shaanti managed to see the incoming shadow of the third planet filling the entirety of the observation window as the Aurelius was recklessly and irreversibly dragged in to a descent to the planet.  

Shaanti couldn’t remember the crash, only waking up the night before in a state of shock. Their body was shaking, vibrating and churning in anguish. Their mouth, a barren wasteland, devoid of moisture and filled with a gasping scream. They shot up, their head banging against the top of their bunk’s alcove. They immediately rolled off the bunk, landing in a pile at the bottom of the fall.  

“Hey, what gives, Shaanti?” Galört asked from his bunk, quite fairly. “Can’t a guy get some sleep on this ship?” 

Frantic adrenaline had taken control of Shaanti. Their fearful, fearful eyes locked with Galört. “Th-the math was wrong! It’s too close!” they barked. 

They burst from their quarters, rushing down the corridor and careening around corners in the sickly soft orange glow of the nighttime lights. Shaanti quickly unlocked the science wing and booted up their computer. They had to be sure, they had to check it again. Something must have gone wrong; the planet was far too close to the hyperspace exit.  

How could they have missed it? How could the Exploratory Committee have missed it? Checked in triplicate? It was a glaring flaw, surely, to have caused such a drastically different result in the hyperspace calculations. Shaanti poured over the data again. A second time, a third time. Hours of the same equations, as swiftly as they could, but it all came to the same result. 

Disaster. 

Regardless of the math, Captain Ikmetli had to be notified. They rushed to the captain’s quarters, past the silent crew quarters, and past the head, and the galley, and the elevators to the engine room, the meeting rooms, until they arrived. They banged their fist on the door, over and over and over again. Any delicacy in waking up the captain needed to be tossed aside. It took less than a minute of urgent and crazed knocking before the door shot open and a very fed up Ikmetli appeared before Shaanti. 

“Damn it, officer, what are you doing?” 

“Apologies, Captain, but you need to order the engine team to abandon hyperspace immediately.” 

Bleary eyed confusion sent a piercing glare up at Shaanti and an incredulous grin across his own face, like this was some prank. “What? And risk setting us adrift in the middle of nothing?” 

“Sir, I fear that if we don’t abandon hyperspace early, the ship will exit hyperspace in the atmosphere of PSR J1300+1240 C and crash into the surface.” 

The captain was silent for a moment. “Shaanti, buddy, wasn’t it your calculations that were the basis for the hyperspace jump? Your math should be fine-” 

“It isn’t the math, sir! It’s the initial data. We need to abandon hyperspace immediately to prevent a-” 

The world turned white again as searing brightness ripped through the visual portals along the corridor and in the captain’s quarters. Shaanti felt their stomachs lurch as the ship exited hyperspace without warning. The two were thrown against the wall, and in the last moments before impact, Shaanti caught a glimpse of PSR J1300+1240 itself.  

Through that impossible brightness, they saw the magnetic field of fated goal made manifest through debris of its innermost planet. That was it! The magnetic field was stronger than the data said.  

As the Aurelius was ripped apart by the fundamental forces of the universe, Shaanti swore they saw the distant star bare its fangs and scream to them. Terrible words emanated, reverberated, and contorted from the solar cacophony of the ancient lich star. Endless fear, the magnetar pulsar howled. Endless death.  

Then there was nothing. 

Shaanti recalled the warmth of his home. Their planet’s sun was lovely, and kind as well. They would miss it dearly. 

“Eyes up, folks!” the intercom cried. 

And Shaanti screamed. 

[junifiction]

The Tell-Tale Squawk

SCENE ONE 

(In the dark on stage, hammering can be heard. As a sinister, cold, and pale spotlight turns on, we see POE hammering at the area of the floor between two arm chairs that face the audience. On the lateral side of each chair, there is a side table. To STAGE LEFT, there is a wall with a window and door that leads outside, angled so audience cannot see the other side of the door. POE finishes his hammering.) 

POE 

It’s done... It’s finished! Yes! Oh, sweet freedom! 

THE BIRD (Offstage) 

*SQUAWK* Who’s there? 

(POE snaps his head up, looking flustered and looking at the audience. After a short pause, a warm, golden spotlight appears on STAGE RIGHT. There, a bird cage stands in the corner, covered for the night.)  

POE 

Oh, thank God. Just the Bird. Nothing to worry about.  (There is a knock at the door. Lights fade in; spotlights fade out. POE leaps up and rushes to look out the window. 

POE 

The police? Damn it! First the Bird, now the pigs.  

THE BIRD 

*SQUAWK* I know you’re there!  (POE goes to answer the door and is visibly nervous. He reveals OFFICER 1 and OFFICER 2) 

OFFICER 1 

Just checkin’ on a noise complaint. A report came in about an hour or so ago sayin’ they heard a “shriek” from this address, Mr...? 

THE BIRD 

Poe? 

POE 

(POE turns and glares at THE BIRD before turning back to the door.)  Uh, yes! I am Mr. Poe. But no, no shrieks here. We’re all good, all good, all good, yep, yep, yep.   (The OFFICERS look at each other, turning into a huddle and briefly whispering indecipherable nonsense. Officer 2 turns around again.) 

OFFICER 2 

“All good”, huh? We’d like to have a look around, alright?   (OFFICERS enter without POE’s answer. POE turns to the audience.) 

POE 

Of course, just come right in. The Fourth Amendment? Oh, why, I thought you would never ask! 

(POE places a cup of tea on each side table. The OFFICERS snoop around, but find nothing, then thank POE for the tea and take a seat.) 

OFFICER 1 

Well, sorry to bother ya. We’ll be out of your hair once we finish our tea. 

POE 

Oh, it’s no problem! It’s only four AM; who wouldn’t want company?  (OFFICER 2 goes to ask a question but is interrupted by THE BIRD) 

THE BIRD 

Poe?! AAAAAUUUGGGGGHHHFHFFHHHHFFHHFHFHHFHFFFHFHFHFF!!!!!!!!!! 

OFFICER 1 

What was that? 

POE 

Oh, nothing. Just the Bird. 

OFFICER 2 

Just the Bird?  (Thunderclap is heard. POE and OFFICERS look around confused. POE recovers.) 

POE 

Yes, just the Bird. 

OFFICER 2 

“The Bird”, huh? 

OFFICER 1 

Yeah, I reckon “the Bird” is what I heard. 

POE 

Of course you heard the Bird, that’s why you asked. 

OFFICER 2 

Asked what? 

POE 

About the bird. 

OFFICER 2 

Was it a cat that purred? 

POE 

Wha- Don’t be ridiculous; that would be absurd. 

OFFICER 1 

Maybe, but the question still stands and this man will not be deterred. 

POE 

I can repeat my answer, if that would be preferred. 

OFFICER 1 

Your answer? When was this averred? 

POE 

How do you not remember? I spoke third. 

BOTH OFFICERS 

Third? 

POE 

(Pauses for a beat)   Will you excuse me for just one moment?  (POE walks offstage and grabs the script. He returns and then points to a spot on the page showing both OFFICERS.)  Yes, third, in the script. See here, /it starts with THE BIRD, who screams, then you, OFFICER 1, ask, //“What was that?” to which I, POE, say, “Oh, nothing. Just the Bird.” 

OFFICER 1 

/Oh, yeah, I see it there.   // (in unison with Poe) “What was that?” 

OFFICER 2  

Just the Bird?  (Thunderclap. All three pause for a few seconds as thunder decays.) 

POE 

(POE holds the script up, and angrily flips through it, checking the front and back in confusion. POE looks up at the sky and tears the script up.)  Damn it, I will not trap myself in a loop! Mum’s the word! 

THE BIRD 

I did it! I did it!! The son of a bitch is dead!   (POE freezes and slowly turns towards THE BIRD. The OFFICERS look confused.) 

THE BIRD 

*SQUAWK* Fully premeditated, and all according to plan! 

POE 

Will you excuse me again?    (Poe begins rattling the cage, reaching under the cover and muttering.)  Shut up, you devil creature or I’ll turn you into a feather duster, I swear to Christ. Don’t you dare go stool pigeon on me! 

THE BIRD 

*SQUAWK* Now all I have to do is dismember the corpse in the tub and let my sins wash away!  (POE tries to strangle THE BIRD, but THE BIRD bites him. POE screams.)  *SQUAWK* Who knew these boards in the living room would be so hard to rip up?  (POE freezes as the OFFICERS turn to look at him.)  Yep, just gonna put the old bastard’s body right between the two armchairs. Who would expect a dead body in the living room? Ah, I make myself laugh! *CONSTRUCTION NOISES*   (The Officers, who look at each other, POE, and the planks between them.)  It’s done... It’s finished! Yes! Oh, sweet freedom!  (There is a brief pause as POE wallows in agony.) 

OFFICER 1 

Excuse me, Mr. Poe. 

POE 

WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?! 

OFFICER 1 

Could I trouble you for another cup?  

POE 

Oh, stop it! Do you not hear The Bird?! I ADMIT IT!! I ADMIT THE DEED!!!  

OFFICER 1 

Whoa, whoa, slow down, bud. I mean, bad tea isn’t a crime. Well, at least not yet.

THE BIRD 

Oh, thank God. Just the Bird, nothing to worry about. 

POE 

Just arrest me already! Please just stop tormenting me, please! Can’t you hear it?  (Poe runs over to the bird cage erratically.)  Listen! Listen to the truth!  

THE BIRD 

The police? Damn it! First the bird, now the pigs. 

OFFICER 2 

Oh, so we're pigs, huh? 

POE 

That’s not what- No, I mean, I- I killed a man tonight- 

OFFICER 1 

Alright, punk, hands where I can see ‘em.  (Officers begin dragging Poe towards the door.) 

POE 

Are you serious? The Bird was a witness to murder! In fact, it was all his idea! (POE points at a random audience member.) You there! Tell them the Bird made me do it!  

END OF SCENE 

[junifiction]

My Starry Night

In starry night  An endless fight  Nothing in sight  Nothing is right  Swelling hope  Oh starry night  This endless fight  Persists in spite  Intend to rise  But set to fall  This starry night  Is now my plight  Stardust shines  It shimmers, twinkles  Entropic love  Dear starry night  We never were  We’ll never be  I say farewell  With endless tears  Goodbye, my starry night 

[junifiction]

Vampire

I am Vampire

The drain

The unceasing end

I am Absence

The loss

The fullness of void

I am Outcast

Vagabond

Respected pariah

I am Mistake

Regretted

Unfortunate inheritor

I am Vampire

The soul

The final beginning

[junifiction]

Bindings

Eyes pierce flesh and peer within

They know

They see

They judge

They recoil

Below

I flee

I trudge

To uncoil

These contorted bindings of my own delusion

Sound offers no solution

I pity my worth

I escape to seclusion

I pierce my soul and peer within

I know

I see

I judge

I recoil

Death throes

Passing whispers

A burgeoning grudge

This mortal coil

Has taken so much from me

I will secure myself

No more will delusion strike its fancies

No more will pity find a qualm

No more will death erode

I will embrace the cold

And free myself

From these

Bindings

[junifiction]

Autumn Again

Striding amongst the holly trees

The scent of spices lingers thus

Cardamom and cinnamon

Again a leaf aloft flies free

Nip, the biting wind finds us

Carrying both goose and gander

Lovingly handmade decay

Carve these moments as trees discuss

Harvest and plow, farmer, planter

As Death steps bereft of meaning

Burgeoning, yearning to grow

Cultivate, foster time with her

Sundered lips, parted in gloaming

Sparks arise in gifted measure

Breathing, knowing, till it hurts

Time comes betwixt wine-dark foaming