TNWIMB #2- The Judgement of the Fire Queen

Hello! Hello, my fellow readers! This is Jon again. Jon without the ‘h,’ obviously. Did you miss me? Or perhaps, you really missed the charming and mysterious Michael, my not-so-naked-magical guest. Don’t worry fellow readers. I’m not jealous or anything like that. Michael is, well he’s Michael. Everyone who seems to meet the guy falls for him—and I mean they fall for him, hard. Also, I promise the title of the naked wizard series will soon make sense, both in a metaphorical sense, and a literal sense.

So please bear with me.

Seriously though, people really seem to prefer Michael over me. You guys do know that I’m supposed to be the protagonist of this story, right? I’m also the guy who’s putting in all the hours to write these blog posts. You wanna know what your favorite wizard is doing while my fingers are tapdancing away on a keyboard until midnight? He’s daydreaming or sleep dreaming or whatever he calls it. You know what I call that, typical-lazy-Michael or TLM for short.

Hear me out guys! I’m not complaining. I’m not that petty, I promise. I’m just doing what I do best, pointing out an obvious observation. But I guess choosing Michael over me makes perfect sense when you really think about it. Michael is a wizard and who doesn’t love magic? Who doesn’t love power? Honestly, the guy’s got all the perfect traits for a charming-world-saving-hero too. People love that kind of nonsense, don’t they? People love heroes, one hundred percent.

Then of course there’s me, Jon and well—I’m just Jon, the cranky 35-year-old blogger from the recently-destroyed-planet-earth.

Well, fellow readers, enough of the philosophical pity party. Even if I now have over 8 billion reasons to feel sorry for myself, you won’t see me shedding any pity tears. So, let’s resume where we last left off, shall we? I believe I was last seen quivering underneath the bedcovers of my floating mattress while a disembodied voice echoed through the nothingness of the end of the world. Yes, let’s resume there, fellow readers.

Let’s go!

“Michael?” cried the voice of a woman. “Explain. What is happening? Is the planet dead? Is Jon with you? Please, explain the situation.”

So, spoiler alert (if you haven’t read the last episode) the earth was very—very much dead at this point. It was as dead as—well, dead as a doornail. In fact, the earth was so dead you could literally reach out and touch the dusty, floaty remains of what was once a planet of 8 billion busy people. That’s pretty dead, right? To give you an even clearer picture of the mayhem surrounding me, imagine yourself surrounded by a gray sandstorm frozen in time. That’s quite a lot of dust floating about, am I right? Very dead dust by the way. You’ll get what I mean soon.

Michael, still the overly cheerful wizard, turned away from me to look up and smile at the non-existent sky.

“Jon is here with me,” he said to the air. “And guess what, my beloved? He wants to stay here! Isn’t that wonderful?”

So, Michael may be an absurd kind of guy—no, he is completely absurd. I’m sure you guys already know that though. It was only a blog post ago that he took down a literal titan using a magical pink twig. Seriously, he executed the beast with both the grace and joy of a cheerleader at a football game. Still, when Michael announced my ridiculous declaration to stay on earth, among the dust and debris, the guy was staring at—no—he was talking to an amber star. Let me make this clear. There was no way he was speaking to anyone else. He wasn’t talking to me and there was no one else around us, nothing but a far-off amber glow hanging in the air and Michael’s magical light from before.

You remember that odd, little light, right? My wizarding guest had literally summoned it from his pointer finger. That light or ‘silver star’, as Michael would call it, was still showering us with its continuous flow of silver radiance. It was like warm rain spraying everywhere as it cast a gentle illumination.

“Jon wants to stay?” the voice of the woman said, sounding alarmed and a little scary. “Michael, please explain. What do you mean?”

“Yes, my beloved, Jon wants to stay here in this world,” said Michael, happily. “He wants to build the life of his dreams, here. I think it’s truly a wonderful idea.”

“Hey! Hey! Who are you talking to?” I asked, still hiding beneath the covers of my bed sheets. “Are you—are you really talking to that star?”

“Oh, I’m speaking to my wife,” he said. “Wait until you meet her. She is quite a lovely person! She’s as radiant as your earth’s sun. I cannot wait until you two meet! She’ll be down in just a moment. You’ll be the best of friends. You’ll see!”

“Wait, wait, so is your wife a star?” I asked because ‘why not’ at this point.

“Your wife is right here,” said the voice of the scary woman.

And there she was, a young lady (and not a blazing star, thankfully) standing beside Michael, also on my bed. Remember? My bed was one of the very few things to have survived the big ashy bang of earth’s destruction. It was still floating about, somehow. Probably because of Michael’s magic. At that point, anything that didn’t add up, I blamed Michael or magic, sometimes both. Anyways, like Michael, the scary lady wore an elaborate outfit that was not of this world. I mean seriously, everything she wore was too—too much. Too vibrant. Too alive, you know what I mean?

You see, she wore this red robe with golden flames sown into the fabric. Now I know what you’re thinking or at least I think I know. You’re probably thinking, ‘But Jon that sounds pretty simple to me. Nothing otherworldly about red or gold robes.’ Listen, I can’t perfectly describe the red and the gold in a way for you to see it as I did back then, but the red that you and I and other normal, earthly people see all the time—you know—that red in the paintings we shouldn’t touch and the stop signs we ignore, consider that red an ‘earthly, duller red.’ Think of our red as being as dull as gray compared to the red this woman wore. The gold too. I could see why Michael said his wife was as radiant as the sun. Or maybe her glamor seemed more glamorous because of my dismal surroundings. I was surrounded by a sandstorm of 8-billion-ended-lives at the time.

Who knows?

But what I do know is this, fellow readers, unlike Michael, the scary fire lady at least had the manners to have already removed her shoes before she stood on my bed. Thankfully…

“Ah, my beloved,” said Michael cheerly as he leaned in to kiss his wife on her cheek.

The scary lady barely budged from the wizard’s affection. I wasn’t sure if that was because of me being there (I am literally a kill joy simply by existing btw) or maybe it was due to Michael’s poor kissing skills. I still don’t know. The scary fire lady kept glaring at me guys. She was glaring at me with her narrow amber eyes, which, while terrifying, was also unusual. Very unusual. And by unusual, I meant the amount of time she spent looking at me with curiosity was very alarming.

You’ve got to understand my fellow readers, traditionally, my experiences with ‘most’ women (emphasis on most and not all) have been rather quick and tragic. My experiences with women have been like a cheap comedy you’d find on Nitfix. I’m sure you’ve heard of Nitfix, right? You know, the infamous streaming service for ‘binge sitting’—or whatever it’s called. You know what I’m talking about, right? Anyways, usually, unfortunately, women will give me several quick, subtle looks of evaluation to figure out whatever it was they needed to figure out about me. It’s sort of like window shopping. Yes, that’s the best way to describe it.

Then if—and only if—I’ve piqued their interest for more than 5 minutes, they might do their thing where they deliberate. They’ll regroup and talk with whoever it was they needed to talk to and decide things (sometimes out loud to my embarrassment). Things like, is he rich or poor? Is he smart or stupid or boring? Is he, well—well is he gay or straight or whatever? Is he—how should I say this and keep it PG13—Is he well built in all the right places? Hint—hint…I’ll leave it at that.

Hey, I’m not trying to insult any of my ‘dearest’ lady readers. (Although I’ve probably insulted everyone at this point). Especially when I know my female readership is surprisingly higher than males for some reason. I’m sure guys have their cruel evaluation criteria too, I think. I mean I assume. Honestly, I’ve never had any guy friends, so who knows. I just know what I’ve heard over and over and over again in my 35-years of life.

Anyways, now that we’ve got that covered, back to the scary fire lady and her narrow amber eyes.

“Michael, explain,” she said, still keeping her eyes on me as if she feared I’d escape (to where I don’t know). “What do you mean ‘he wants to stay here, in this world?’”

“Hmmm—well I offered to take him away from here and he said he wanted to stay,” said Michael. “I believe that sums it up pretty well, right Jon?”

I nodded.

“Sums it up?” said the scary lady, who became increasingly scary by the moment or maybe that was just me. “Explain, my love, does Jon understand that there’s no world to stay here for?”

“Of course he does,” said Michael.

“Good,” said the scary woman. “And does he also understand that there’s absolutely nothing here, nothing but the Nightmares?”

“Actually, he has gotten acquainted with one already,” said Michael.

“I see,” she said with a spark of anger. “So then explain to me, what business does Jon have with staying here with the ashes and dead dreams of this fallen world?”

Michael, never losing his smile, planted another kiss on the woman’s cheek. Her amber-eyed glare seemed to soften a little.

“That’s a rather harsh way to describe everything that’s just happened,” he said. “He’s just lost his home. You and I both remember what that is like.”

“I know what I said,” said the wife, still keeping her hot glare on me. “I want him to understand the weight of what’s just happened. He shouldn’t stay here. Not in this place where the First Darkness thrives.”

“Well, if he wants to stay here, dealing with the darkness is an easy fix on my end,” said Michael. “I can—.”

“Dearest, we talked about this, remember?” said the wife. “We agreed to come here, rescue him, and then leave before everything collapsed.”

“I know, I know,” said Michael. “But that was before the change. Yes, a change has occurred.”

“A change?” said the wife.

“Yes,” said Michael. “Jon wants to stay here now. He wants to build the life of his dreams, here. That changes everything. That overrules everything we’ve previously discussed.”

“Yes, you said that already,” said the wife with a heavy eye roll. “You know that’s silly reasoning.”

“Want to hear an even sillier idea?” said Michael. “You should go talk to him.”

“What?” the wife arched an eyebrow at the suggestion. “There is nothing else to talk about just as there is nothing here to stay for.”

“My beloved,” said Michael with an even cheerier smile (if that was even possible). “Do you trust me?”

“What?” The wife glared at him with astonishment. “What kind of ridiculous question is that? Of course I trust you.”

“And I trust you,” said Michael. “Forever.”

Michael’s wife exhaled a heavy, but satisfied sigh. It was like one of those sighs you breathed out of your mouth after a long day’s work. After you’ve thrown yourself onto the couch and are ready to ‘binge sit’ your favorite series on Nitfix. It was that kind of sigh.

Michael’s wife approached me with a curious slithering grace. Naturally, I was still under my covers as I’d observed the whole dramatic scene of the magical couple. She rested on her knees with her feet behind her once she was near. I suppose this is the part of the story where I describe what she really looked like for those of you who are curious about that sort of thing.

Michael’s wife was as beautiful as she was intimidating. She had lustrous burning bronze skin that seemed as—well—as brilliant as the metal itself. She wasn’t as tall as Michael, but she was taller than the average woman of my disintegrated world. I remember when she walked toward me, she stood perfectly upright, like a queen in a royal procession. I imagined you could rest a bowl or a cup of water on her head, and both the cup and the water would remain perfectly still, perfectly in place whenever she moved. Lastly, there was her hair. It was more like a lion’s mane. It was long and thick and curly so that some of the hair chose to flow over her shoulders, while the rest lay on her back. Some of her hair was light brown, some was amber, and the rest was a darker brown with hints of scarlet scattered about.

“My name is Ahsa,” she said. “Apologies for the delay with my introduction. It is an honor to finally meet you face to face.”

Ah—amazing. Michael’s wife spoke with this weird gentleness that surpassed—well, it surpassed Michael’s ever cheery personality, somehow. She waited for me to speak next, and I realized I was supposed to introduce myself.

“Oh—and I’m Jon,” I said. “Jon without the ‘h’ not that that’s important. I don’t know why I said that…Um—also, I figure you already know that much about me.”

She kept watching me, like really watching me as I spoke. I mean, that makes sense. I was the one talking, but again, I wasn’t used to a woman giving me this much careful attention unless I was taking her pizza or coffee order. Ahsa’s narrow amber eyes studied me intently, curiously. She even started to smile a little. Needless to say I was sweating buckets of sweat. How could I not?

“Is my wanting to stay here so terrible,” I said.

“Your desire is not terrible,” she said. “It is just—I—I know what it’s like to be with these kinds of people. I know what it’s like to be in a world of nightmares. It can be very disheartening.”

I laughed when she said that. “So, you must be a mind reader then!”

“No,” said Ahsa. “I don’t care to read people’s thoughts and feelings. Those things are temporary. They’re fleeting. I’m more interested in your hopes and dreams.”

“So, you can see my hopes and dreams?” I said, knowing that nobody cared about things like that. Nobody cares about other people’s hopes and dreams. People only care about their own. That was the truth. In fact, it was practically a law in my world:

“Thou shalt not care for the hopes and wishes of others, lest you die a penniless fool.”

I remembered when I thought about that stupid law that my spine tingled again. It was that awful cold wind. You remember the cold wind, right? The sinister breeze from before that had crept out from a dark, cavernous void, a literal tear in space. Well guess what? Another one appeared. This one was bigger and darker than the last one. Above us, four pairs of enormous hands reached out of the void, grasping, hoping to catch and consume us. I guess that makes sense. We were the only living things remaining in this world. I tried to breathe, but again my breathing failed me. My lungs failed me, actually. I was choking on the sinister breeze.

“Breathe, Jon,” Ahsa said, softly. “You want to live the life of your dreams here, yes? Then breathe. You can do this.”

Fellow readers, this was one of those weird moments where I actually believed someone. Like actually believed them. I took a breath when she said that. Her voice was the only thing to break me out of the grip of the cold wind. Yes, I know that sounds lame. Super lame, actually. But what else do you want me to say? I believed her. So, I lived. You can sue me for poor explanations, okay?

“Splendid work, Jon,” said Michael. “Now, leave the rest of the Nightmares to me.”

“No,” said Ahsa. “I will do it. Lend me Everlasting Embrace.”

Michael handed his pink wizarding rod over to his wife without a word. The moment she took hold of the rod it became a pink axe. I know, I know, sounds crazy weird, right? Let me explain. First Michael’s magical rod had shrunk until its length was no greater than that of a wooden spatula. From there, the shrunken rod spat out a glistening pink axeblade made of glistening tree sap. I was pretty sure that wasn’t ordinary tree sap though. It glimmered with an impressive metallic sheen that resembled steel. Once Ahsa was armed and ready for action, she looked toward the Nightmares and lifted her hand that was holding the pink axe.

            “Divide,” she said.

            The arms and hands of the grasping Nightmares were immediately sliced into pieces. Seriously, the woman said ‘Divide’ and the beast’s arms split apart as though they were freshly cut logs ready to be thrown into a fire pit. The Nightmares’ fallen body parts disintegrated into ash as they fell around us. New ashes to join the ‘end of world ashes.’ Ahsa returned the rod to Michael, who again kissed his wife, this time on the forehead.

            “Thank you, my beloved,” said Michael. “I promise, Jon’s dream is worth defending.”

            “I know that,” said Ahsa. “However, to restore this world he must face the judge of creation at the Edge of Worlds.”

“Well that sounds ominous,” I said, ready to go to sleep.