A monster emerges from the shadows. He is followed by another, and another, until the world is inhabited by new beasts of its own creation. This anthology incorporates stories from various genres and timelines, exploring what makes us who we are.
Mra'vah chokes beneath a wave that drags him along the shore. He thrashes and gurgles as he regains consciousness. A dull ache in his head brings his hand upon his temple, and when his wrist goes limp so his fingers can dangle before his face, they are smeared with blood.
Listening to the water slosh and trickle nearby, he remains sprawled on his back, gazing up at the twin moons and trying to remember when he passed out.
Something attracts his eyes as they lower. He blinks dumbly at the thing in the sand, the pale ball, the exoskeleton, a tiny shell not much bigger than a cork.
Now Mra'vah sits up.
In his head, the ache throbs.
Groaning, he scoops up water and splashes his face.
He looks down at the shell again.
It's white with brown swirls and glitters under the moons because water droplets speckle it like jewels.
Mra'vah grabs it and holds it carefully between his palms.
"Cute," he says.
It twitches.
Out of its ridged hole wiggle a pair of tentacles—and at the end of each is a bulbous, unblinking eye.
"Snail," says the prince.
"Snail," says the snail.
Mra'vah screams.
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Fayleal glares with wet eyes at the turtle on the table. "What have you done?"
The animal sticks out his long, wrinkly neck. "I did what you asked of me. Nothing more or less."
Gasps fill the room.
"Why is that reptile talking?" cries a priest.
The girl buries her face in her hands.
Mr. Turtle waddles along the edge of the table until he's facing the group of speechless onlookers, and with an upturned beak, he announces: "R'zeith is resurrected!"
Everyone gasps again.
A woman faints with a thud.
"It's not him!" another priest shrieks.
The boy, once dead, now reborn, has his back to the wall and sits high on his bottom, spine erect, while hugging his knees so tight they lose their color.
"He's got the wrong soul!" Tears pour between the gaps in Fayleal's fingers, which hide her face from everybody else in the room. "You stole him from his universe and put him in ours!"
"I must set the record straight." Mr. Turtle juts a claw to scratch the underside of his beak. "Listen close, all of you. In every universe, R'zeith dies. In some universes, Mra'vah kills him. In other universes, an oppressed servant does. In over a million universes, R'zeith is R'zeith. In 929 universes, R'zeith is Ramses. Most Ramseses never get hit with a rock at all. Most Ramseses become pharaohs."
