1. Macabre Marmalade (COMPLETED; EDITING)

XXXII (15.1)

The sharp scent of grass tickled Todor's nostrils as he righted himself. Ezezu stood next to him, her appearance slightly changed from the wild furs, leathers and dreadlocks she once sported. Now she looked much more noble, even though a hint of fury and wildness clung to her as if it was part of who she was. She was wearing the dark brown armor with rust red details, she held a sickle-like bronze sword loosely in her palm while another identical blade was hanging on the small of her back.

Todor looked around himself and gasped. As far as his eyes could see stretched the grassy plains. Green sea sprawled from horizon to horizon, gently swaying on a wind. His eyes climbed up where he could see the sky unobscured by the darkness that shrouded. The gloom was replaced by the light that had no source. He took a long breath and turned to Ezezu. Her dark skin was a stark contrast to his paleness. Even if I do go outside, I still spend a lot more of my time indoors, he mused, vaguely amused by the random thought.

"What now, Miss Book?" Todor said slowly. "How do I learn my True Name?"

"This place, it's a region of pure thought. Every stray musing, every random pondering ends up here, somewhere," she said kneeling and touching the blades of grass. "True Name is a function of forces in this realm. When you were born people around you had thoughts concerning you, that molded into a Name. With their own minds, they gave you the name without even knowing. It's a great sink for every genius inspiration and every moronic notion."

"It's just ... fields of grass," Todor said, unimpressed.

"Is that what you see? Grab one strand of it and try to eat it," she dared him.

Todor's eyebrow rose in question, but the only answer he got from the spirit was an iron melting glare. He shrugged and snapped the closest plant and stuffed it into his mouth. Before the mutilated flora reached his tongue he got overwhelmed with a potent cocktail of feelings. Fear, rage, hate vying for control, while anxiety, insecurity, weariness got sidelined in the tornado that made thinking hard, almost impossible. Through it all, one single vain pulsed, the intent of murder. Todor gasped and somehow managed to shed away from it all, falling on his knees next to Ezezu.

"Was it something bad?" she said gently. It was the timidest tone her heard from her. All though, admittedly, I saw her only a few minutes ago for the first time.

"I felt someone's will to kill," he said flatly. She winced.

"I am sorry. I hated my father his teaching method. He would force people to learn by pushing them to figure out everything by themselves. And here I am doing the same," she said through gritted teeth, her grip on a sickle sword tightening. It is like she is forced to feel rage and anger all the time. Todor thought as he looked at her.

"Nothing to be sorry about. I will probably ask many stupid questions that to you are as normal and as logical as breathing," Todor said slowly. She chuckled.

"You are not my first jailer. I had many over the years. But most of them couldn't handle it. They didn't have that ... rage against the universe. They all died in a few hours, consumed by the emotions that were not theirs. It is strange that you have the same fire in you," she stopped, her voice strained and body tense. "But you understand, the feeling of losing your entire world. That was what pulled me to you."

At that moment Todor understood this angry ghost that was tied to his mind. The same feelings that blossomed in him were mirrored by this spirit from long ago. The will to bring a piece of your Old World into this new and strange land. To make sure all the people you lost are not forgotten and will live through you and your creations. Todor put his palm on the girl's shoulders and her eyes rose to meet his. She smiled with such innocent air about her Todor returned the grin without even registering it.