50. Carousel

50. Carousel

Ballaviranoz

The War Caster

Non-human alter

A feral sound slashes throughmy throat at the humans who surround me with puzzled looks on their faces.

I’m in a dungeon. A fortress. Bars and charcoal ceilings. Flashing lights. Broken music. Sour stench of sewage, captivity, and dried blood. My narrowing eyes scan the cage swiftly, taking in every detail. Trapped. Bars. Cage.

The humans back away, shifting to the other end of these bars as I readjust my stance to crouch on all fours. My dragon form would terrify them. My reptilian eyes. My thick, black claws. But they know not that I have come to protect them. To guard them.

The male with bronze skin and eyes the color of gemstones calls me by my name. The name I have known for thousands of years. Ancient and heavy on any human tongue. I tilt my head in his direction, bowing my head slightly to reveal to this male human that I am no threat. He holds out one of his two hands, revealing to me the face of his palm. The delicate crease lines. The short nails that are not lethal the way my talons are. I sniff it, leaning forward to push my face against his fingers.

As I scan their faces once more, my sight clouds over, blurry and without detail.

~

Ralek

Emperor of Snakes

Non-human alter

This place…

The smearing black grittiness underfoot. The smoky atmosphere. The scent of burning souls.

This place reminds me of home.

But my dissociation is slow. I come in and out of consciousness. Blinking, swallowing, looking around with heavy lids.

As I come to, I grin at the alert faces before me.

“Hello, children,” I purr with ophidian excitement. How long has it been since I’ve lurked around young mortals? My last memory of merging to the front was around Masten and Absinthe. My soul reason for splitting.

“I think they’re rapid cycling,” the one called Warrose says to the other confused faces. I’ve known this male since he was much smaller, much less carved like a stone statue. Does he remember me? How many human years have passed?

“Where am I now?” I ask, piercing him with my eyes that shine like two ruby stones smoldering from the heat of hellfire.

“Vexamen Prison. We’ve been captured,” the brawny male responds.

“No Absinthe?” I inquire with a wicked tilt of my lips.

The large mortal studies me with narrowing eyes and a straightening back. His hazel gaze sweeps over my hands, the curling of my fingers, my relaxed stance.

“You’re Ralek, aren’t you?” He places a steady hand on the shoulder of the sickly female lying next to him. “The Emperor of Snakes.”

“Uh, that doesn’t sound good,” the blond, pretty male mutters, rearing his head back.

“He’s a demon alter. It’s usually not all that pleasant,” Warrose responds.

“I knew you’d recognize me, Warrose,” I say in an eerie, demonic voice. “Have you seen your family since they abandoned you, child?”

His upper lip curls. It was always so easy to get under his skin. But I’ll admit. He was never my concern or my usual target. Absinthe and Masten have always held the cake for my regular triggering.

“Why the need for a demon alter?” the sickly mortal girl asks. Her gaunt face is ashen and covered in an oily sheen of sweat.

“Absinthe was a cruel and religious tormentor to us as children,” Warrose explains, like he has a bad taste in his mouth. “After she tried performing exorcisms of Kane, calling him evil or a demon, Ralek was split.”

“I’d like to see her again.” Pleasure swirls under my scaly skin at the thought of taunting her with my fiendish threats.

“I’m pretty sure Dessin maimed her during their last encounter.”

My smile deepens. “Is that right?”

The muscular mortal’s voice blurs together in a string of garbled syllables. My sight falters, and I suddenly am unable to follow the conversation. I’m a ship drifting away from the dock of this present moment.

~

Absinthe

Introject Persecutor

Dirty. Disgusting. Street rats.

“What happened to this one?” I point to the girl lying on the floor smelling like vomit and pathetic excuses.

The filthy young adults around me exchange looks as if I’m not asking them a question. As if I’m not looking them in the eye, gritting my teeth, and sneering at the dirt in their pores.

“We have to help them,” a thick-boned, red-headed woman mutters, still not answering my question. Who let her walk around carrying this extra weight? Doesn’t she realize Demechnef will have her thrown into the asylum for eating like a pig? Doesn’t she care?

“How much do you weigh, girl?” I clip in her direction.

“Hey!” A young man with sunshine hair and doe eyes shifts in front of her. “That’s enough.”

“Absinthe.” A husky, baritone voice snaps my attention away from the two disgraceful children sitting before me. “I think it’s time you leave.”

I ball my fist in front of him. “Talk to me again like that, boy, and I’ll bloody that pretty nose of yours.”

“What do we do to stop this?” the golden boy asks.

I scoff in his direction. How pitiful of him to ask. How sad and emasculating.

“Dessin told me once about a gatekeeper. It’s an alter that controls when they switch.”

I rev my hand back to hit the stupid boy, but a dominating presence collides with my position in the front. Overly confident. Strong minded. Ancient. My head throbs like a gushing wound at the chaos going on around the other alters. They need to stay still, leave this to me. I’m going to have to teach them a lesson when I return to the inner world.

That’s enough, old woman. A mountainous voice takes over my thoughts.

Kalidus.

~

Kalidus

God of Storms

Fictive Introject Alter

I’m assisted with a memorydownload from a memory holder.

I take note of who fronted before me. Absinthe. How she got out of the prison we locked her in, I’m not sure yet. But these small humans look at me in a slight panic. Perhaps more alters have switched? Perhaps we’re having some sort of a meltdown?

“Be calm, humans. I will make certain Absinthe returns to her cell. My sincerest apologies.”

This body is quivering, sweating, aching in several places. The migraine, the lack of sleep, it crunches down on our bones like a cancer.

“What has happened to this body to throw us into chaos?” I ask the mortal men and women around me.

I recognize Warrose as he runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re rapid cycling. They did something to Dessin with Mind Phantoms. Made him believe Skylenna was the source of his pain and suffering.”

“She is the source of it,” I confirm. I’ve watched the way she’s toyed with us over the years. She is the reason I split in the first place. A demon from hell like Ralek.

He sighs, nodding slowly. “Kalidus, right?”

“God of Storms,” I add.

“I think I know of a way I can stop the cycling,” he says cautiously.

I bow my head to give my approval.

“Cricket. I know you’re the gatekeeper.” Warrose leans closer. “We need your help to stop the carousel switching. Please come to the front.”

~

Warrose

My chest aches for themas Kalidus dissociates. The trigger to call Cricket by name worked. He blinks slowly, as if he’s about to fall asleep.

“Have you ever met Cricket?” Ruth asks.

I shake my head, but don’t take my eyes off of the man dissociating in front of me.

“Never. But Dessin told me about an alter they called a gatekeeper once. This alter named Cricket controls switching, access to other inner worlds they might have for different subsystems, or even alters that contain certain traumatic memories.”

I can’t imagine what they’re going through. In one fell swoop, Kaspias and Masten managed to erase everything good about Skylenna. They managed to corrupt the purest love any of us has ever seen.

They broke Skylenna and Dessin.

I clear my throat and make eye contact with Cricket. He’s staring directly at me, unblinking, as still as a block of stone.

“Cricket?”

“My apologies. Our system has seen a high level of stress,” they say flatly.

“How can we help?”

Cricket’s emotionless eyes flick between the rest of us. This alter doesn’t move like any alter I’ve been around; they’re mechanical and measured. I’ve never actually met Cricket. From what I remember, the gatekeeper sees and experiences almost everything but rarely interacts with the outside world.

“I do not think you can help.”

“Your system is under duress from the most recent experiment. Mind Phantoms. It was to make you all believe that Skylenna is your enemy. But in reality, she’s the lover of Dessin and Kane.” I steeple my fingers against my mouth, hoping that Cricket will be able to see past the false logic they’ve been given.

“I see.”

“Do you think you can convince the other alters of this shift in their reality?”

They blink. It’s a gesture of boredom, I think.

“That might be your reality, but it isn’t ours. I hold many of the traumatic memories that are solely centered around Skylenna. As does Bloom, our memory holder. Since Skylenna is a prominent trigger, I am unable to process your request.”

Fuck.

“What can you do to help the others then?” I demand, heat rising to my face as anger wells inside my chest.

“I can slow down the unwanted switching,” they offer matter factly. “It would be best if exposure to this trigger was eliminated or kept to a minimum.”

“Meaning what?” Niles says.

Cricket slides their focus to him. “Meaning stop saying her name. Stop bringing her up as a topic in conversation.”