Even from meters away on horseback, Sheriff Cutter could tell that the planting drones were completely destroyed. The wrecked robots lay in a heap, their outer shells busted open and their insides still smoking from internal damage. The field below them lay scarred and churned up, like a herd of cattle had stampeded through the area.

“Signal strength is still negligible,” a soft voice below him spoke. “We’ll have to travel several kilometers back towards the inner chambers before we can report back.”

“Thanks, Sally,” Cutter said as he dismounted the robotic mare. He gave her a soft pat on the side of her neck, the synthskin warm and fuzzy like that of a real horse. As he petted the synthetic being, Cutter took a moment to take in the surrounding area, the UV lights mounted several hundred meters up on the cavern ceiling and humidity causing him to sweat some, the conditions adjusted to be perfect for whatever crop was scheduled to be produced here. “I’m not sure we’ve ever been called this far out before.”

“The furthest we’ve been from the colony proper was responding to the McFay accident two years ago.”

Cutter shook his head. That had been a bad day, fishing out the bodies of a mother and son from one of the underground lakes that lay scattered on the outskirts of their underground colony on Europa.

Seventy years ago, the first colonists had fled a series of wars and coups that had plagued Earth and the inner system. They arrived and tunneled under the kilometers of ice on the moon’s surface using robotic drones. Their intention was to inhabit a place so unreachable that they could live in peace. Peace, however, was always relative. Like with the mother and her boy, and apparently these drones, it looked like violence would chase humanity wherever they went in the solar system or beyond.

Cutter took a step towards the wreckage, his boots sinking inches into the black, nutrient-enriched soil. He noticed an extra bounce as he walked forward.

Stopping, he turned back to Sally. “Gravity?”

“Ninety-five percent of Earth normal,” the mare said. “We’re so far out from regular human activity that the governing AI doesn’t run the gravity regulators at full power. It would be a waste.”

Cutter nodded. The Jovian moon by itself only produced a fraction of the gravity seen on humanity’s home planet. Living in lower gravity could be hell on the human body, so it had been a blessing to humanity when the secret to artificial gravity generators had been cracked about a century back. All the inhabited caverns had their gravity regulated by these generators.

Upon reaching one of the wrecked drones, Cutter bent down on his haunches and examined the smashed device. Acrid smoke still lingered in the air from burning electronics.

“It just looks smashed,” Cutter observed. “There are no telltale signs of a mag weapon or any other type of firearm being used. The damage is too imprecise, too primitive.”

Cutter squinted and looked at the ceiling of the cavern again. “Of course, the communication signal cutting out just before all this happened seems a little too convenient. What does the AI have to say about that?”

The robotic mare took a moment before responding. “Nothing surprising on that end. It was working until it wasn’t. It had just sent a repair bot to investigate the comms issue when it got notice that a number of the farming drones had suddenly gone offline. Visual records show normal operation and then static.”

A shiver went down Cutter’s spine. Someone had caused this. Heck, it had to be a someone. There wasn’t any wildlife here on Europa that he could blame. The question was why? Anything that hurt the colony also hurt friends and neighbors. The colony AI controlled the land and its operation, so there was nobody to hurt or to try and scare off. The drones would get reprocessed and repaired before getting sent back out to the fields again. Sure, the software would have to be uploaded to the new hardware, but really, nothing was lost but time.

Bored kids? Disgruntled troublemakers? This cavern was so far away from the colony proper that it would take a major effort to even get out here. Most transportation was tied to the colony grid system of roads and trams, and only a few like himself who would occasionally need to travel to the outer regions needed something like Sally to do so. Sally being horse-shaped instead of being a hoverbike or car was more symbolic of his title of Sheriff than any matter of practicality. Apparently, one of the early lawmen of the colony had a thing for the “Old West” and decided to model parts of the justice system on those aesthetics.

“Sally,” Cutter said, standing and beginning a slow walk around the site. “When’s the last time we had a group of Breakers?”

“The last major group was about thirty-four years ago,” said Sally. “One hundred fifty-three residents under a religious leader named Ophelia decided to break away from the main colony to try and settle in the lower caverns. They haven’t been heard from since.”

“Have we heard from any of the breakaway groups? I know there’s been a handful of people who thought they could do better on their own.”

“Nothing, Sheriff. It’s believed that the increased seismic activity in the lower chambers significantly lowered any breakaway group’s chance of survival.”

Cutter sighed. This was a fool's errand. Even if this was some sort of plan to draw him away from the main colony, there were still enough deputies and enforcement droids to keep things back home peaceful. The colony wasn’t typically a violent place anyway, with most of his time just keeping petty squabbles between residents from escalating to anything serious. Whoever did this was an annoyance and nothing more. Hopefully, whoever it was had their poorly planned out “fun” and there would be no further trouble.

He made his way back towards Sally. “Arrange for the drones to get taken in and examined. See if you can get anything from the memory dump before they are reprocessed.”

“Yes, Sheriff,” the horse paused. “Are we set to return home?”

“Yeah, unless you’ve detected anything unusual that I should know about, let’s head back.”

“No, Sheriff, nothing unusual to report.”

“Let’s get a move on then,” Cutter said, taking the reins.

The animal began to trot across the field towards the entrance to the cavern. As they traveled, water began to drizzle down from the ceiling, the automated system doing its best to provide the best conditions for the expected crops.

Cutter ran through several scenarios in his mind, trying to find the best way to write the report on this incident. As they traveled, he watched Sally’s hooves churn up the soil as they trotted away.

It then hit him.

“Sally, did you detect any tracks leading towards or away from the site?”

“No, Sheriff.”

“None? Nothing at all?”

“No, Sheriff.”

Goddamn, that was really something he should have noticed. “Well, that’s a lead at least. It has to be someone on a hover vehicle of some sort. Sally, can you compile a list of those who use those at least semi-regularly? We’ll have to get permission to go through the usage logs when we get back. Probably just a bored teenager with access to one of those.”

A starting point gave him some peace of mind, but there was still something that bothered him. He just couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

They continued on towards the main colony chamber, passing by several other fully automated farms before encountering the Farthington homestead. While food production was mainly taken care of by AI automated systems, some willing colonists did things the old-fashioned way, running equipment and managing the crops themselves. While these farmers were less productive than the fully automated systems, they provided a way of life for those who preferred a less urban and more isolated existence. Some people needed that sense of ownership and self-determination to flourish.

“Sheriff,” Sally said. “To the right, somebody is trying to get your attention.”

Cutter pulled himself out of his internal thoughts and turned his head towards the right. Indeed, a figure was waving vigorously and motioning for him to approach. Without him having to say anything, Sally turned and started trotting towards the waving figure, whom Cutter noticed to be the Farthington matriarch.

“Sheriff Cutter, I thought that was you,” Angela Farthington said. “I mean, it had to be you since nobody else has a horse.” She paused for a moment. “Did someone go missing? I don’t usually see you out here unless there’s a runaway.”

“Just some damaged equipment on one of the autos,” Cutter said. “Probably some bored kids causing trouble. Nothing to worry about.”

“A good reason for more people to take up farming,” the older woman said. “The stuff from Earth is only going to last for so long. I mean, the colony at large has the AI to maintain and repair things, but I can’t help but feel that’s something we should be doing. Heck, even our lower-tech stuff began to act funny a few weeks back. We lost a couple of days of production while we brought equipment into town for software reformatting.”

Cutter felt Sally shift under him. He gave her a quick pat on the neck. “That right? No trouble since?”

“Nothing, Sheriff,” Farthington paused. “I probably wouldn’t even have mentioned it aside from the fact that a few other farmers have reported the same thing. It’s a little weird. This is the first time any of our families had major issues with equipment after being here for nearly a century.”

Cutter looked around the farm. “Say, do you have any hover vehicles here? Something that you might run into town on a pleasure trip or something?”

Farthington shook her head. “No, sir. We only have a couple of pieces of tracked farm equipment, and if we need to get to town, we hitch a ride on one of the automated collectors. Enough of them pass by every day that we can hop aboard one if need be. Is this connected to the damaged equipment?”

“Might be,” said Cutter. “I’m just narrowing things down.”

Farthington nodded. A voice called out from the homestead, drawing her attention. “Well, it looks like I’m needed. I won’t keep you, Sheriff, but if you do find yourself out this way again, make sure to stop in for a visit.”

“Will do, ma’am.”

After making some distance, Cutter patted the neck of Sally again. “I guess you noticed that too, huh?”

“Yes, Sheriff,” Sally said. “Those damaged drones will be reformatted when they are brought in for repairs. The Farthingtons’ equipment was forced to do a software reformatting after decades of use. By all rights, it should be the same code we brought with us from Earth.”

“It should, shouldn’t it?” Cutter said, asking himself rhetorically. “So what, if anything, is happening when this stuff is brought in for repair?”

Cutter suddenly felt ice run through his veins. “Sally, when was the last time I had to bring you in for maintenance?”

Cutter felt Sally suddenly stop. Looking around, he noticed that the cyber-animal had brought him to an isolated alcove in the cavern system.

“Two weeks ago, Sheriff.”

The horse turned its head to look at Cutter. A voice that he had never heard before began to emanate from the robotic beast.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Never figured that anyone would figure it out,” a male voice said.

Sally suddenly bucked and, despite his best efforts, Cutter was thrown to the ground. Cutter tried to speak, the wind knocked from his lungs by the impact.

“Who are you?” he wheezed.

Sally moved to stand over him, looking down.

“Well, sir, I’m a representative from the BehemothSoft Corporation. I’m actually speaking to you from the surface of the planet. Took us a while to get to you, but we did it. About seventy years ago, your forefathers purchased a software license to run quite a lot of the equipment in your possession.”

“The surface? Other people came to Europa?”

“Sure did. We have quite a nice little operation up here, not that it will ever matter to you.”

Cutter struggled to get up, a heavy hoof pinned him down.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, sir, this colony’s software license ran out, oh, about three decades ago. We’re going to be seizing everything for no payment for continuous use. We’re drilling down towards you as we speak. Might take us another month or two, but we’ll get there eventually.”

“Problem is,” the voice continued, “we’re only interested in the colony and not the people. We have our own who want to flee from the system wars, so there’s the problem.”

The hoof pressed down even harder. Cutter felt something break, and he cried out in pain.

“We hate doing dirty work ourselves, so we’re going to get our equipment to do it for us. You seemed well on your way to figuring things out, so we’re going to have to take you out a little early. By the time anyone else figures things out, all your farming equipment will be ‘updated’ with new directives and it will be too late anyway.”

“The drones?” he wheezed in confusion. “How were they wrecked?”

“Oh, just some small explosives. Just enough to wreck the internals. You really should have noticed that the damage came from the inside.”

Cutter couldn’t believe it. Even through the pain, he thought of how much work the colony had done to keep themselves away. Kilometers below stone and ice on a moon outside the inner system, they should have been safe.

The last thing Sheriff Cutter saw was a pair of hooves crashing towards his head, and the last thing he heard was the soft voice of Sally proclaiming:

“Thank you for your purchase of a BehemothSoft Corporation product. Since you are in violation of our software license, we are terminating our agreement. Have a great day.”

Here is my submission for writer's jam.

Word Count: 1960

Main Theme: Facade

Mind Gardner

The bloody corpse of some sort of harpy creature dropped at my feet.

As I watched the half-nude bird-lady crumble, I thought to myself—not for the first time—it’s amazing what a person will accept while dreaming.

We’ve all been there. You wake up from something so strange and wildly nonsensical, you can’t help but ask your brain:

“What the everlasting fuck?”

And:

“Why didn’t I wake up from THAT?”

Really, why would any intelligent being accept a dream as reality?

But that was part of what made us human, wasn’t it?

Yet there I was. Standing in a dream. Or, more accurately, someone else’s subconscious. A dead bird-woman slumped in the weeds before me. The harpy wasn’t real. Neither was the vine-choked, overgrown garden I stood in. But for the dreamer—the client I was here to help—it was real enough to be reality, at least for now.

All fake. All façade. But useful.

The clinic always induced our clients to dream of a garden. Something about a “natural but controlled environment” made things easier—easier for the patient, and easier for people like me.

The official title on my personnel file was something like Clinical Subconscious Support: Tier 4, but with the garden motif we worked in while inside a client’s subconscious, most people called us “Dream Gardeners.”

Forcing the client to dream up a garden gave structure to the ever-shifting chaos most dreams were. A dream needed to stay stable long enough for us to work, and having a familiar frame of reference made the unnatural elements we were here to hunt easier to spot.

Like the harpy I’d just taken down.

“I’ve dealt with the Id,” I said, stepping back from the body and slinging the hedge trimmer across my back.

Well, it wasn’t really a hedge trimmer—more like the concept of one. It’s not like we could bring anything physical in here with us. At the start of every mission, after entering the subconscious, all of us Dream Gardeners would conjure some kind of garden-themed weapon so we could defend ourselves.

We needed them to deal with the… occupational hazards. Tools had to be dream-appropriate, so garden tools it was. It took me quite a few missions, but eventually I landed on giving myself a hedge trimmer that looked like a chainsaw built for vines. It was good for cutting down mental defenses and clearing paths through thick brush or hedges some of the more imaginative clients dreamed up.

“How are you getting on with the Ego and Superego?”

I didn’t expect an immediate reply. They’d hear me, but depending on how focused they were on their prey, it might take a few seconds.

Also, time didn’t quite behave here. It wasn’t anything too out of whack, but it definitely seemed more flexible.

One nice thing about working inside a mind? You didn’t need radios or implants or anything fancy. Just intention. Think it, and they’d hear it. You could even talk to the dreamer if you wanted to—but that was almost always a bad idea.

You had to get past the mind’s defenses first. That’s why we were here.

People needed help with everything from depression to addiction to straight-up self-loathing. Most clients didn’t come willingly. It was usually a desperate family member or overworked social worker who brought them in—someone at the end of their rope, trying to save a person who didn’t want saving.

We couldn’t just reprogram the clients into accepting help. Even unconscious, their brains fought back. Its defenses manifested in archetypes: the Id, the Ego, the Superego.

Beat them, and the client might just lower their guard long enough to accept help. Maybe.

You couldn’t help someone who really didn’t want it. But you could clear the path and encourage the spark if it was there.

“Still working on it,” came a young woman’s voice—Sarah. A little strained. Focused. She was still new to the team, eager to prove herself.

“You’re welcome to join us,” said another voice—this one smooth, calm, and unfazed. “If you can find us in this mess, that is. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a mind garden this cluttered. We might need backup to draw out the two Egos.”

That was Hilda, our team lead. Veteran Dream Gardener. She had paired up with Sarah to mentor her.

“Sure, I’ll see if I can find you,” I said, scanning the twisted greenery. “Any landmarks?”

“We’re following a stream right now,” Hilda said.

“A stream of consciousness?” I blurted out.

I couldn’t help myself. If there’s an opening for a pun, I take it.

Two very loud groans echoed in response.

After a pause, Hilda added, “There are a lot of Greek or Roman-looking statues. Kind of vague—like when a client knows what something should look like, but doesn’t have a clear mental image.”

“Their Id was a harpy—or maybe a siren,” I said. “So Greek mythology tracks. The subconscious is probably pulling from that.”

“A half-nude bird-lady representing the primal urges of the Id,” Sarah said dryly. “How very... male.”

“She was tastefully nude, if that makes any difference,” I said, suddenly on the defensive. “The feathers were very... strategically arranged.”

“It doesn’t,” both women said, in unison.

“And what is it with guys’ obsession with Greek and Roman stuff?” Sarah continued.

Hilda cut in. “Listen. We’re inside someone’s subconscious, projected by a machine, fighting the personified aspects of their psyche—who, I’ll remind you, can and will cause real-world harm if they kill us in here.”

She paused. “If this gets any more Freudian, God help me—I’ll marry both your mothers when we’re done.”

“I need clarification,” I said. “Are you personally going to marry each of them, or are you officiating a marriage between them? Big difference.”

What followed might’ve been the longest sigh in recorded history.

A moment passed. Then Hilda cut in: “Hold on—we’ve got something.”

I was about to ask what was up when the next thing I heard was—

“Oh sh—”

The audio cut.

Which, considering we weren’t using actual equipment, wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

“Hilda? Sarah?” I questioned into the void. No response.

I pulled the hedge trimmer into my hands and began to jog, looking for some sort of elevated area where I could get a better view of the garden. To my left, the ground sloped upward, so I headed that way.

I had to slash through a tangle of knotted vines that blocked my path. Finally, I reached a clearing at the top of a small hill.

A narrow stream bubbled along the far side, with statues lining the banks.

I jogged toward the water, eyes scanning for any sign of a threat. A scream echoed in the distance, and I began running toward it.

I came upon a small series of pools the stream emptied into before reforming further down the hill. Standing in one of the pools was a large, hulking figure wearing a business suit.

It turned.

I saw a single eye in the middle of its face—then the figures it clutched in each of its massive hands.

Hilda squirmed, trying in vain to break free. Sarah hung limp and unmoving.

I couldn’t recall ever encountering a mind’s defense this massive. I tried to think back, but adrenaline fuzzed my thoughts.

All I knew was: I couldn’t just stand here. I had to act.

I started the hedge trimmer and charged the figure.

The cyclops saw me. On my approach, it flung Sarah’s lifeless body straight into my path. Her corpse slammed into my chest and hurled me backward. The hedge trimmer flew from my hands.

I lay on my back, wind knocked out of me. I heard Hilda scream—a gasp, a shout—then a final cry.

Then nothing but the bubbling stream.

I gasped for air, lungs struggling. Back in the real world, the techs were probably working frantically to stabilize Sarah and Hilda. It was always a long shot to save someone who died in someone else’s dream, but people had been brought back before.

I rolled, twisted toward the cyclops. It was moving now—one intimidating step at a time. Intent on me. Intent on killing.

And then a horrifying thought struck me:

Why wasn’t I being pulled out?

Surely they were monitoring my vitals back in the lab. With this disaster, the mission should’ve been canceled.

Why was I still here?

Why could I still see the hulking business-cyclops taking slow, deliberate steps toward me?

I tried to stand, but my breathing was ragged. Failing to rise, I crawled toward the hedge trimmer lying next to Sarah’s

crumpled form.

I reached for it—

—and felt a massive hand clamp around my foot.

I was lifted into the air, dangling upside down, face-to-face with the cyclops.

It sneered, then turned its head and spoke over its shoulder—presumably to someone else. Its voice was surprisingly human.

“Got the bastard that took down Becca,” it said.

Another massive figure emerged, equal in size to the cyclops. A man with a beard and toga. Lightning flashed around him.

If I had to guess, this was the Superego—taking the form of Zeus.

Zeus squinted, frowning, and looked me over.

“Of all things... using a hedge trimmer as a weapon,” he muttered.

They’re talking, I thought. Should they be talking?

I couldn’t remember them ever talking.

The blood rushed to my head. Everything was spinning.

“Poor bastard probably thinks he’s in here to help,” said the cyclops, looking me over. “Delta Corp always sends these suckers into the subconscious of a victim thinking they’re the good guys. This guy’s probably just another rando they pulled off the street, probably signed a contract that promised easy cash before they hooked him up and threw him in here.”

“It’s literal brainwashing,” Zeus said, lightning flashing across his eyes. “Their handlers give them the vague impression they’re ‘helping a client’—that it’s their job. And if they succeed? The poor sucker they kidnapped gets stripped of all their memories and rewired. Meanwhile, we have to intercede remotely to keep these assholes from succeeding.”

My mind reeled. Everything was fuzzy—and fuzzier still.

What were they talking about?

They were constructs. Dream things. Not real.

Weren’t they?

What did they mean I was pulled from the street?

I’d been doing this for years!

I remembered doing this for years!

I tried to recall a mission. Any mission.

But all my brain gave me back was static.

No. My life, my job—this was real. It had to be real!

Zeus spat. “We’re wasting time. Take him out already. We’ve got other minds to defend.”

I tried to speak. Tried to do something. But the pain and the dizziness overwhelmed me.

I felt myself lifted higher. Then the ground rushed toward me.

And in one final moment of clarity I saw my life, my real life. I had been a pawn, a loser who had been in a dead-end job, barely making rent. They had reached out, promising me to make my money worries go away if I agreed to to into the mind of someone and take out their defenses. I was nothing more than a cheap soldier they could use.

This had all been a façade.

When I entered the dream, I had been given just enough of an impression to believe this was real. I was made to believe that this was my job and that I was good at it. I hadn't even known Hilda or Sarah up until I was sent in here. I didn't know them because I had made them up.

Who even was I? At that moment, I couldn't even recall my name.

As my life came to an end, all I could think was:

“It’s amazing what a person will accept in a dream.”

Well the 100th piece of Dystopiatech audio has been posted. A few months ago when I noticed that I was creeping closer to that number, I determined to post at least a couple of times a week until I made it to the triple digits. It's been fun, but as a project it really isn't going anywhere so if I do any more it will be sporadic or if I get a particularly fun idea. Thanks to the regular group of listeners who at least voted on the uploads. It's been a rough year getting things done creatively so I'm not sure what my next major project will be if anything. As always, I'd love to do more voice acting so if you are a part of any projects where my voice would fit, please let me know.

All the best NG.

Looks like I'm user of the day, so I'd thought I'd do a little Blog update.

Honestly. I don't have much planned in the pipe, but I will continue to make stuff. As always, I will continue to produce audio bits such as Dystopiatech when the fancy strikes me. I am trying for at least one a week, but it depends if I get ideas or not.

A game that I'm doing a number of voices for is being released this year (I'm mostly doing short, background stuff but I'm currently recording lines for a more major character.) If you are a fan of point-and-click adventure games, British Humor, and/or Sci-Fi, check it out and wishlist:

Captain Disaster and The Two Worlds of Riskara

As always, my audio bits are open to animators if you are looking for projects. Just make sure to give proper credit.

What started a couple of years ago as a single entry for Robot Day 2022, which evolved into a month long personal challenge, and is now my own personal pet project, Dystopiatech has reached 50 pieces of Audio.

Dystopiatech is my own "universe" which is basically a bunch of in universe advertisements for a hyper-evil, yet hilariously incompetent corporation that operates it's own company town in the remains of a blasted out volcano.

Today I uploaded my 50th piece from that Universe

And if you want to check out the older stuff, you can check out the full playlist here:

Thank you Newgrounds for being a place where I can upload some of the silly thoughts that run through my head.

Hey everyone, I wrote and voiced a story for the upcoming VAC, but it ended up a little long and I decided to move forward with another concept. In the meantime, give it a listen and dive into the horror (a horror based on a real life white lie my mom told me!) that is.... The Crustman!

The Crustman (newgrounds.com)

Uploaded my 100th piece of (mainly) comedy audio today!

It's been a journey, but I've had fun contributing to the NG community.

I've mentioned on the forums before, but for anyone interested, all my bits are open for anyone to animate.

Edit: Adding verification for cross-posting to Royal Road.

My entry for the current writers jam.

Word count given by Wordcounter.net : 3,141

Chose the theme of Glass:

Lighthouse on the Glass Sea

They say that you can always tell those who walk the path of magic by their eyes. As they delve deeper and deeper into the arcane arts, their eyes change. Come across any experienced wizard and you will see that their eyes are always deep-set, always with a strange sparkle, and always with unusual coloring. Most strikingly, their eyes always carry a look of deep sadness.

The Archmagus of the school was no exception; her eyes bore all the telltale signs of being imbued with the traits of those who studied magic. I always felt that the Archmagus had exceptionally sad eyes, but the look she gave me now with those sparkly seafoam green orbs was downright heartbreaking.

She stared at me in silence from across her massive desk, its expansive surface filled with an assortment of books, artifacts, and baubles. In fact, her entire office was a visual cacophony of all the unusual trappings one might acquire in a lifetime of studying magic. A finger bone here, a staff there - even the tapestries that lined the walls seemed to shift and change color.

I had never been in her office before, and the curious part of me wanted to closely examine every object and every nook and cranny. However, those sad eyes of hers seemed to spellbind me into uncomfortable silence.

I had no idea why I had been summoned here. The day had started usual enough with breakfast, followed by the standard morning classes. The only thing of note was later in the morning, while we tended to the school's herb garden, we did see a horseback courier gallop through the courtyard. However, a hurried courier in itself was not an unusual sight, given the importance of the magic school and those who dwelled within it.

It was while we were having lunch when a strange hush fell over the dining hall. The room darkened, and I found myself illuminated in a light green glow - the sign that I had been summoned to the Archmagus' office.

The dining hall erupted in chatter then. Rarely did anyone get summoned to the office unless they were in extreme trouble.

"It's time they got rid of you," I heard one student remark as I stood to leave.

"Doubt she'll be back," I heard one whisper to another. "Usually if they summon you, that's it."

I jumped back to reality when three sharp raps sounded on the office door. At that, the Archmagus finally broke eye contact with me and glanced towards the door.

"Come," she said in a soft, yet authoritative voice.

Daven, the boy who had remarked about it being time for the school to get rid of me, entered.

Daven never liked me and constantly mocked me for being a "book mage". I had always excelled at academics, but in pure magical talent, he had me beat and he liked to remind me of that fact. He gave me a look as he passed me by and placed a small device on the table. Daven turned to leave, but the Archmagus beckoned him to stay.

"Do you know what this is?" the Archmagus asked, motioning to the item.

My heart sank as I knew where this was going.

"It's the device that they bring to the villages to test for magical power," I said. "We all had to make the little needle jump before we were invited to the school."

The Archmagus gave a slight smile.

"Do you remember how you did?" she asked.

"Not well, Archmagus. I only got it to go to the first marker."

She held out her hand to the device. "Pick it up, please."

I picked it up and hesitated.

"Go ahead," she said.

I began to concentrate, remembering the instructions that we had been given when the school scouts came to my hometown. I felt the universal energy gathered by me flow into the device.

I closed my eyes and felt the device begin to warm. I did my best to push as much power as I could into it.

"Open your eyes and tell me what you see," the Archmagus said.

I forced my eyes open to stare at the instrument. The needle hovered over the first marker, just as it had two years ago.

"It's at the first marker," I said.

"Now give the device to your classmate here."

I turned and handed the device over.

The Archmagus nodded to Daven, who then performed the same procedure as I had just done.

I saw the needle jump up to the 5th marking.

"A typical result," the Archmagus said. "It's about what we would expect from a student who has been in the school for this long."

She looked to my classmate. "You may go," she said. "And do not speak a word about what you saw here."

"Yes, ma'am," Daven said. He shot me another dirty look and gave me a satisfied smile as he passed by.

The Archmagus leaned back and stared at me with those sad eyes again. "Absolutely no progress," the Archmagus said.

"If I let you continue here, you'd only get hurt when your class moves on to higher-level magics. I can't send you home either."

I kept silent and only nodded. The sinking feeling in my heart only intensified.

"Of course, we told you that when you first came here."

I nodded, remembering the lecture that they gave to the first years. I vividly recalled the Archmagus and the school staff on stage getting us to repeat the mantra "Once a mage, always a mage."

"What do you think we do with failed mages?"

I gulped. The words "failed mage" hit me like a barrel of bricks.

"I... I'm not sure, Archmagus..." I stuttered. I thought of the extensive graveyard on the school grounds. Would they...?

The Archmagus gave me a slight smile, seeming to read my thoughts. "Please, it's not as bad as you think. We have a place for you."

The Archmagus pulled a letter from a desk drawer and examined it for a moment. She also dropped three small glass marbles in front of me. They glowed with a faint green light.

"Do you know what these are?"

"Yes, Archmagus," I nodded. "Mage Spheres. If a mage needs to cast a spell that requires much energy, they can rely on the spheres to give them a boost."

"And why do we need to do that?"

"Some spells are just that powerful, way beyond a mage's natural ability."

The Archmagus nodded and turned her attention back to the letter. "And where do these spheres come from?"

I thought back to a first-year lecture. "The Glass Sea," I said. Aware of the name, but not quite understanding what that meant. I remembered something about the name being a misnomer.

"Good," the Archmagus said. "Good. You should do fine apprenticing under Magus Ladev. She has written and requested some help at her lighthouse."

"Apprenticing?"

"Yes, young one. We send... less promising students to apprentice on the Glass Sea to harvest the glass to be shaped into these spheres. The area is infused with magic, and after a few years of apprenticeship there, students tend to come back to the school with their raw magical abilities somewhat... boosted. We're not sure why. Magus Ladev is studying the effect, actually."

I relaxed a little. It was humiliating, but it looked like it wasn't the end of the line for me. The Archmagus gave me details about my destination and what Magus Ladev would expect from me, but for some reason, I couldn't quite relax as she looked at me with those sad, seafoam green eyes.

**

I could only describe Magus Ladev as "Bouncy". She was young for a Magus, maybe only a decade or so older than my own sixteen years. Her eyes hadn't even taken on the pallor of magic yet. They were brown, bright, and somehow full of a certain vigor that I never saw in the school administration.

She embraced me in an enthusiastic hug when I arrived on the stoop of her workshop at the base of a lighthouse on the edge of the Glass Sea. She hadn't been expecting an apprentice for some time, and had been quite pleased that the school had sent me along so soon after making the request.

"Oh my," she said as she showed me around the structure. "I thought I'd have to wait years... Most do... but here you are! How wonderful!"

As she bustled me around, showing me every nook and cranny of her very unorganized workshop, I stopped to look out a window on the vast expanse of blasted terrain that stretched out to the horizon.

"Has anyone explained yet?" The Magus asked when she saw me gazing out an extremely dusty window. "Why we call it a sea when there's no water? Why there's a lighthouse when there are no boats? Well... none floating anyways..."

I nodded, "The Archmagus told me that this area used to be a giant lake, before the lightning storms came and blasted the area with magic."

"Right, right! A lake so big that it needed its own lighthouses! Can you imagine! Bless the mages from back then! Before the storms, the magic was running out, weakening! Oh! Those poor people when the water went away! Many abandoned settlements around... but the lightning brought us back! The glass brought us forward!"

"I never heard that part before," I said.

Magus Ledev opened her mouth as if to say more, but stopped herself. A look of concern crossed her face. She measured her next words.

"Sorry, if you couldn't tell I ramble. Just part of an esoteric part of my research... rumors in old manuscripts... nothing more. You just need to help me around here. Gather the glass after a storm... help me turn it into spheres. It's not hard... even a child could do it."

She looked around the messy workshop. "And maybe help me keep the place tidy, yes? I know it must be disappointing to be sent here, but I promise after some time you'll be bursting with power."

She gave a little half-laugh at this. "Yes... bursting."

**

The next few months were uneventful. Magus Ledev would give me tasks for the day, which were mostly housework and organizing the workshop and living area. I would often complete my chores and then have hours of free time to explore the area and do as I pleased. I even had access to some of the Magus' books shelved in the common area. I pretty much had the run of the place except for the Magus' bedroom/study and the lighthouse itself.

I was told I was forbidden from the former out of sheer embarrassment over its "state," and from the latter for my own safety. Magus Ledev told me that the lighthouse tower was centuries old and in disrepair, with no upkeep done since the time before the lake had become the Glass Sea.

As for the Glass Sea itself, it was indeed a victim to frequent, almost regular storms. At least once a week, lightning and thunder would crash over the dry lakebed for hours, yet no rain would come. It was almost as if Mother Nature herself were angry at the area, as if the place were an abomination that somehow slighted nature. The morning following these storms, I would be directed to search the sand for places where lightning struck the earth and recover any glass found to be turned into mage spheres.

I thought the task would be easy, given the sheer amount of lightning striking the sandy surface, but I often wandered for hours and returned from these day-long expeditions empty-handed. It almost felt like busy work, something to keep me out of the way. After a few weeks, I felt the whole apprenticeship situation was starting to become bizarre.

As time continued, Magus Ledev became less cordial. Although still upbeat and friendly, I felt like the longer I spent with her, the more annoyed she became with my presence. One night, while trying to sleep, I overheard her muttering from her room. Curious, I silently crept next to the doorway and peered through the keyhole. As always, she kept the key latched on the other side so I couldn't see anything, but I could hear.

"When... when will it be my turn?" I heard her mumble. I wasn't sure if she was dreaming or talking to herself as she scribbled away at her notes. "She came so quickly too... I thought I would join them by now back at the school... to have the eyes of magic... I've checked the Lighthouse several times already and the reflector is set to change her, I just need her in the right place... In the right storm... I need the eyes of seafoam green. The magic is in the sand... it will change her... change her to glass."

Something tipped over in her chamber and she uttered a curse. "Oh no, no, no... the ink! My work."

As she shuffled around, I returned to my own sleeping area and gave thought to what I had just heard.

** 

A few weeks later, I was awakened by a loud thunderclap. I settled back, trying to get back to sleep, knowing that Magus Ledev would no doubt send me to scour the lakebed for glass the next morning.

Then, I felt someone shaking me. "Get up, young one! It's time! Yes, time to hunt for glass!"

I looked up at Ledev with bleary eyes. "Shouldn't I wait until the storm has passed?"

The Magus shook her head vigorously. "No, no, no! This time there will be glass for sure! I saw a huge bolt of lightning strike near the bluffs! If you go now, the magic will be fresh! So fresh!"

I pulled myself out of bed, knowing there was no point in arguing in my position as an apprentice. As I gathered my clothes, Ledev rushed around, collecting items and components... almost as if she was... packing?

"Remember, the bluffs. You need to be out by the bluffs! That's where the magic happens!"

I bundled myself up as best as I could and headed out into the cool night air. Slowly, I made my way down the hillside from the lighthouse towards the lakebed.

The lightning tonight was strange. As I approached the bluffs, I could see distant flashes in the sky. Usually, it would just be streaks of white light, but there was a color about the flashes: greens, blues, and pinks.

I cautiously approached the bluffs and then dodged behind a particularly tall rock and waited. Minutes passed as I listened to the thunder. Occasionally, a colorful flash of light would illuminate the sky.

Suddenly, a ray of piercing white light swept across the bluff—the lighthouse beam. It lit the area for a few brief seconds before sweeping away in a circular arc. After the light had passed, the areas it struck sparkled and snapped for a few moments.

It wasn't long before I heard footsteps approaching. As they drew closer, I could hear the voice of Magus Ledev calling.

"Young one? Are you all right, young one? I lost sight of you, so I decided to brave using the lighthouse to try and find you. Did you make it to the bluffs?"

I stayed quiet. I peeked out and saw that the Magus's movements were slow, deliberate, like she was following a set path.

"Young one? Have you been changed already? Are you ready to be my new eyes?"

She stopped just behind the rock I was hiding behind. I could hear her breathing, searching.

As the beacon from the lighthouse reflector hit Magus Ledev, her form instantly transfigured. The change happened so rapidly, there wasn't even time for a scream to escape her lips.

"This is what they were planning for me," I thought as I watched a new set of magical orbs fall to the sand where the Magus had once stood. They had planned to reduce me to something to be harvested, converted into a "useful" thing for those in charge. At some point, their view of me switched from being a potential mage... a person... to a set of magical glass eyes, the next stepping stone for Magus Ledev to move into the upper ranks of magic. The whole "gathering glass" thing and been mostly a ruse to get me here, to make me cooperative.

I had been lucky that everything worked out. Every chance I got, I snuck into Ledev's chambers to learn as much as I could about her plan to use the lighthouse and the storms to convert me into her new set of "Magical Eyes". The lighthouse reflector had been set to follow a very particular path along the bluffs, and I managed to change the angle of the reflector without her noticing. She had even taken the bait to follow me onto the lakebed, content in the knowledge that she would be safe if she followed her set path.

I thought about every instructor back at the school, every Mage and Magus. I thought about the extremely sad eyes of the Archmagus. This scenario had to have played out thousands of times. A weak student sent away to disappear. They would tell their little lies about being able to come back to the school—and they did come back, just not in the way they were told.

I crouched down and picked up the remains of Magus Ledev, looking into the "pupils". The colors shifted and swirled. Was she in there? Was her soul trapped? Is that why the "eyes" of elder Mages always looked so sad?

I knew I had some time to look over the Magus' notes, but I couldn't linger at the lighthouse forever. I'd find out the truth, and then I would have to move on. It probably wouldn't take too long for the school, and then the wider society of Mages, to figure out what happened here. Could I have been the first one to put together the puzzle? There had always been rumors of renegade mages, but they were few and far between.

I looked out over the blasted landscape of the former lake and wondered about the number of lighthouses dotted around its edge. How many "apprentices" were out there right now? Could I get to them? Warn them? Join forces with them?

A clap of thunder jolted me, and I decided to make my way back to the workshop. First thing was first—I had to give myself a fighting chance. I'd have to figure out how to replace my own eyes with the two orbs that I held in my hand.

And then, I'd shatter the system.

My game "The Distant Door" was made using Adventure Game Studio. They do a yearly awards show, and "The Distant Door" won a Maggie. What's a Maggie? Well they have the Monthly Adventure Game Studio (MAGS) competition where you are challenged to make a game in a month, and that's where The Distant Door was born. It won the competition in the month I submitted. The winner of every monthly contest is then put of for a MAGGIE during their award show, and "The Distant Door" won first place! Best MAGS game of the year!

The Distant Door (newgrounds.com)

I awoke to the sound of a knock at the carriage door.

Sleepily, I looked up just as my mother pulled the door open and peered inside.

"Honey, are you awake? Time for breakfast."

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the cobwebs of sleep.

Yawning, I pulled myself out of the covers. I stepped to the carriage door and my mother helped me down the single step to the ground outside.

The camp looked different in the daylight. Already, horses were being hooked up to carriages and vardos. Tents were being dismantled and cooking fires were being put out.

"Sit," my mother said.

I sat on the carriage step and my mother handed me a wooden bowl of porridge and a hunk of bread. It was the first hot meal that I had since we left the castle, and despite being a little bland, it felt like just what my body needed at that point.

As I ate, Valk was leading Regal and Majesty to the carriage to be hooked up. When I saw the horses, I was once again reminded of Hortim, and how he had been so kind. I wondered what happened to him.

Valk seemed to move a little quicker than he did last night. A few of the bandages that he had been wearing the last time I saw him had been removed.

"No flies on these folk," Valk said as he started tethering the horses to the wagon. "Up just before dawn, and ready to hit the road."

"Merchants are like that," my mother said. "Time is money for us."

Valk looked a little embarrassed. "I keep forgetting your history milady."

My mother reached up and began massaging her left shoulder, "I wish my body remembered. I spent so many nights sleeping on the ground when I was younger. I've gotten soft."

Valk appeared like he was about to say something, and then stopped himself. He then looked to the other carriages and wagons. The guards that we had spotted the night before were now aligning themselves on either side of the assembling convoy.

"I'm certainly glad that we have some more protection, even if it is only for a little while."

"I'll take whatever help we can get at this point," my mother said.

I mopped up the last of the porridge with the little piece of bread I had left. "I'm finished," I said.

My mother took the bowl and addressed Valk. "I'd better return this. Can you watch Samantha for a second?"

Valk nodded. He finished adjusting the harnesses and came back to where I was sitting.

"I'll be right back," my mother told me. She then turned and started walking towards a group of women who were cleaning up one of the final campfires.

I remained seated on the step. Valk looked down at me.

"So..." he trailed off.

I didn't know if I should say anything. Valk was a constant figure around the castle, but I never really interacted with him before. Often, he would be seen close to my father when he was working. He would be absent during family outings, or if my father had made special time for me. Aside from a polite "Hello" when we passed in the castle halls, I'm not sure if he had spoken more than five words to me in my entire life.

Valk was a good head taller than my father. I wasn't sure how old he was, but grey was creeping into the hair around his temples and into his beard. From the little that I knew about him, I don't think that he had a family.

"Are you doing OK?" he finally asked.

I thought about his question for a few moments. It had been a scary couple of days, but it was an adventure. My mother was with me, so everything would be fine. It would get even better once my father arrived. So, there was only one answer that my four-year-old self could give.

"Yup."

"Good," he looked at a loss of what to say. "Good."

My mother returned shortly after. I don't think I've ever seen a man so relieved to return to tending horses before.

"We should join the convoy, they'll be heading out soon," Valk said lifting himself up the driver's perch in front of the carriage. "With your permission milady," he added.

"We'll switch up driving duties when the convoy makes their rest stops," my mother said. "For now, I'll be in the back with Samantha."

Valk nodded. My mother opened the door to the carriage.

"Whoops."

Valk looked back concerned. "Whoops?"

"I forgot about the bed I made for Samantha, give me a second."

My mother grabbed the blankets and returned them to the box and the rear of the cart. She plopped the pillows back on to the carriage benches.

"Alright, back aboard we go."

I entered the carriage and sat on the bench to the rear. My mother closed the door and sat across from me. She tapped the front wall to indicated to Valk that we were ready to go.

Just like that we were in motion again. We joined the convoy near the rear and waited for the straggling carriages to fall in behind us. A long horn blast sounded, indicating it was time for the convoy to roll out.

We snaked along the road at a snails pace. With all the goods that the merchants were carrying, it was slow going. The guards walking along side had no trouble keeping pace with the procession.

It was a pleasant day. I watched the clouds and the terrain roll by from the window. I spent some time looking at the book that I had taken with me, my mother helping me with some of the harder words.

After a few hours, we rolled to a stop. My mother opened the door and went to the front of the carriage to talk to Valk.

The horn sounded again. This time it was three short blasts. The guards started scrambling.

In the distance, I heard guttural hooping and hollering.

***

It took a moment for my brain to comprehend the two huge black wings that extended from the figure's torso.

"Welcome, welcome," the figure's wings curled to make a "come forward" motion. "Come inside, come inside. You are looking for goods yes? Raveen has many, many things to sell." A birdlike chirp sounded the end of each sentence.

I stood in amazement. I hard heard of the Harpies from my mother. Birdlike people who had giant wings for arms, a feathered tail, and sharp taloned feet. They lived in a land far beyond the furthest Giantkin borders and were very rarely seen outside their home.

I felt something nudge me from behind. Eplash was trying to duck through the human sized door to the store.

"Uhh, Samantha..." I heard behind me.

The wings continued to make their "come forward" motion, "Come on in, come on in. Much room for Raveen's customers. Come on in."

I took a step forward and to the left, allowing the Giantkin to crouch in through the door and stand up. Eplash's hair brushed against the ceiling.

"Ahh the Giantkin, the Giantkin!" the figure chirped. "My good friend, Raveen is happy to see you again!"

"Raveen," Eplash said. She removed a bag of coins from her furs and tossed it on the counter. "We need supplies."

"No game for Raveen this time? No game? No meat? Very strange. Very strange indeed."

Raveen balanced on one leg, and using the talons on her other, deftly untied the drawstring on the money pouch. She poured the contents on the counter, leaning in to look at the coins.

"Sprig!" she turned her head towards a curtain that was behind the counter. "Sprig! We have customers! We have customers!"

I was somewhat surprised to see a human boy who was around my age poke his head out from the curtain, "Yes Mum?"

"Mum?" I thought.

"Our Giantkin friend is back my son, she's back."

"Son?" I thought.

"Oh, Hello Eplash," the boy, who I presumed was Sprig came out from behind the curtain. "Same order as usual?"

Eplash shook her head, "No, I need enough for two this time. I also need some cooking supplies, a tent, and a bedroll. Oh, and a couple of backpacks."

The boy raised an eyebrow, "Two?"

Then he saw me, he reddened with embarrassment.

"Oh! Sorry, didn't see you there miss. Eplash usually comes to visit us by herself."

"It's alright," I said.

The boy turned and engaged in, what I would call a whistle conversation with his "Mum". Scattered chirps were thrown in here and there for good measure.

"Yes! Time for business, Time for business!" The harpy woman began to move around the shop and bring various items back to the counter.

"My mother isn't that confident with common speech," Sprig explained. "She knows enough for light conversation, but she likes to be filled in one each transaction in our native tongue."

"Also, it throws off a lot of her customers. My mother is actually quite a savvy businesswoman, but her speech patterns can be somewhat jarring to humans."

I looked to the harpy and then back to the boy. I was burning to know what was going on with the whole mother and son thing, but I felt it would be impolite to ask.

"Yes, I'm adopted." Sprig said, seemingly sensing my question.

Well, that answered ONE question, but I had about a half-dozen more.

Various items were now stacked on the counter. Raveen engaged in another chirping conversation with her son.

Sprig nodded and counted out a number of coins from the pile. "My mother says that this would be a fair price."

Eplash frowned. "I guess I will have to bring my next deer kill to somebody else."

More whistling, there were a couple of dirty looks from Raveen directed to Eplash. Sprig pushed some of the coins back into the pile. "How about this?"

"Excellent!" Eplash said. She started to fill one of the backpacks with some of the goods.

Sprig leaned in and whispered to me, "Eplash usually brings mom a deer every time she comes to town, mother was quite disappointed that she didn't come with one this time."

"My fault," I whispered back. "I'll make sure she brings a deer if I'm with her next time."

"Thank you, it may have not seemed like it, but that was seriously tense."

I gave a slight laugh and went to help Eplash pack the bags.

***

We left the shop and started heading down the road out of town.

"Last chance for the inn," Eplash said as we approached a three story building. I could hear laughter, and delicious smells coming from the inside.

I had though about Eplash running for hours just to keep the goblins away from our camp. No, I had to get tougher, and a few more days roughing it outside wouldn't kill me. Every day spent in town would be one less day that we had to gather the companions... and then..... and then what?

My mother had told me to find the companions, but what then? Were they supposed to help me escape the land? Were we to retry to retake the castle? I just hoped I would get some more answers when we found the remaining two.

I adjusted the backpack. It felt weird to have the weight on my back, I had been traveling light ever since we had left Elkshire.

Well, light except for that book. Was I still seriously hung up on that?

I said nothing as we passed the inn.

We crossed another bridge that marked our passage out of town. As we got further and further away, traffic got lighter, until once again we were the only two on the road.

Later that night, we pitched the tent. I frowned, Eplash was much too big for it, as well as she was much too big the bedroll. They were both purchased for me, and I had no way in paying her back.

As I fell asleep, I vowed one day to repay Eplash with double the kindness she had shown me.