The first problem showed itself as soon as we exited the graveyard.
The serene whispers of rustling leaves and distant birdsong were brutally ousted by an onslaught of urban chaos. Car horns blared like trumpets in a discordant symphony, while the relentless chatter of the crowd swelled into a tidal wave of human sound.
It felt as though we had collided with an invisible wall of noise. Just moments ago, we had been enveloped in the graveyard's tranquil embrace, where the most prominent sound was the gentle rustling of leaves. Now, the air was thick with the scent of exhaust fumes, and the city's relentless energy pulsed against my skin like a palpable force.
Surprisingly, the graveyard was a hidden oasis, nestled by a copse of ancient oaks in a small park. This natural curtain had led me to believe we were in the heart of the countryside, perhaps bordering a quaint village. But reality painted a different picture.
Skyscrapers loomed overhead, their glass surfaces glinting in the harsh sunlight, towering over the streets teeming with life. We weren't just in any city; we were in the heart of a sprawling metropolis.
"This is going to be longer than I thought," I shouted, leaning ever closer to Mars. He was naked from the waist down, and his naked flesh rubbed on my suit. Perhaps I should have stripped too?
His skin was cold. But so was mine.
"What?" he shouted back.
"Finding public library. It would be easier in a smaller city."
"We have time. We have nothing but time."
Depressing, but true.
Invisible, we glided through the arteries of an unknown city, unseen specters amidst the chaos. The streets teemed with life, a symphony of urban sounds and colors, yet we passed unnoticed, sometimes weaving around the vehicles, sometimes ghosting right through them.
Among the sea of cars, one family vehicle lingered in my memory. Not for the two boys playfully bickering in the back, nor the father's concentrated gaze at the wheel, but for the mother. She was adorned with an abundance of crystal jewelry, a necklace of raw, unrefined crystals strung together like mystical talismans, bracelets clinking on each wrist, and several crystal brooches pinned haphazardly.
It wasn't her questionable fashion sense that captivated me; it was the crystals themselves. They seemed to whisper to me.
"Winter river, winter river, winter river…"
The phrase continued to echo within me, a whisper that seemed to grow more insistent. It was perplexing – had my magecraft been altered by the transition into this ghostly existence? The uncanny illusions, and now these whispers, hinted at unfamiliar powers awakened by my death.
So, when in our wanderings I saw a jewelry store, I tapped Mars on the shoulder and said, "Stop."
He did stop, looked at what captured my attention, snorted, and said, "I should have guessed."
The shop name was prominently displayed, Greenwich Jewelers. It was near a subway, between a florist and a gift shop.
On the sign above the gift shop, there were words: "Remember NYC".
"We are in New York City," I commented.
"You just noticed? There were several signs."
"I wasn't paying attention," I mumbled. I know I was supposed to, but this new way of riding the motorbike was a bit distracting. Moreover, I was looking at buildings, not street signs. And I was not sure that I would recognize New York City from street names. Even very famous ones.
"Good thing I was, or we could have ridden just past a public library or a bookstore. You know that you can't take any of the jewels?"
How did he manage? He should have been even more distracted than me. I mean he was the one with the vibrating thing in his ass.
"Yes, I just want to enter, and listen."
"You meant to say look?"
"No. Come."
We could not open the door to the store, so we just walked through them. I was getting used to it.
There it was a soft murmur at the edge of my hearing. A thousand chimes together formed a chorus. Two words. Winter river. Over and over. Again.
What did they mean by it?
"Have you ever been tempted to rob a place like this?" Archer asked, interrupting my thoughts.
"No. Everything here is far too new to be of much use to me," I replied, turning my attention back to him. He was examining a display of necklaces. My eyes slipped down a little, under his belt. What? I deserved a little treat. Except. I blinked and blinked once more. "When did you put pants back on?"
"What? I didn't—" He glanced down, his surprise mirroring mine.
I chuckled. "You didn't notice."
"How?"
"I think I got it. These suits are formed by our self-perception. Something like clothes you had as Servant."
"That was a projection, this doesn't feel like that, at all."
"Could it be the difference between reproducing and being a Mystery? The only way to determine the validity of a hypothesis is to test it. But what could be a valid test?" I thought about it for a moment. "I have an idea. What happened in the graveyard was a clue. Let's see if this suit responds in the same manner to my wishes."
It was easier than I thought. I just needed to want it and I was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. Still with white and black lines. I tried to get rid of lines, but that would not work for some reason. The color scheme was locked.
Then I tried to make something different, something protective. Results were mixed. It looked like a mail shirt, but it was flimsy. More like a costume, than actual armor.
I tried a few more things, like a sexy angel costume. Well, it was just very small shorts and fake wings. His reaction to it was not exactly what I wanted. There was a frown on his face.
I tried to fix it with a song. What I did not expect was for the music to be conjured from thin air to join my voice. And for my signing to be that good. It used to be average, but my singing voice was exceptional. Without flesh, my song was a pure expression of spirit.
"Meet my obsession my opium dream
lost in indulgence I'm not what I seem
come to my arms and let me seduce you
surrender you soul, and I will reduce you
to simple sensation and fleshly delight
so flight in my side and embrace the night
we will defy the greatest commands
and heedlessly walk the forbidden lands"
It was still not working. He was patiently listening, but I was not getting him in the mood. It was time to take it to the next level.
I willed and it was so.
The gems began to sprout like seeds.
"Gaze into depths of emerald absinthe
and plunge through the twists of the labyrinth
gather at crossroads and jump to the wind
dance in the graveyards and revel in sin
our innocence lost and our faith destroyed
spiraling down into lightless void
drunken on dreams and ceaselessly sleeping
here in the garden the angels are weeping"
As if fed by my voice and will, crystal saplings grew upward, shattering the glass displays. Shard fell on the floor and began to grow into sharp transparent grass.
But my intended audience remained unmoved.
"They will despise us but we will be strong
the road to fulfillment is rocky and long
misunderstanding is geniuses' curse
they call us evil but nothing is worse
than passive submission to meaningless rules
these are oppression and misery's tools
ultimate freedom is our delight
to quaff the nectar of forbidden night"
Crystal forest had overtaken the jewel store. The trees were a riot of colors, the red of ruby, clear blue of sapphire, emerald green, diamonds of many colors, white, black, and pink.
Twisting together they formed a glittering labyrinth.
My voice echoed through it, each pure note resonating perfectly.
I didn't miss even one. I had finally learned to sing well, I just needed to die first.
I never seduced anyone with a song and seemed that fact would remain unchanged. Even with my improved singing skills.
"Gaze into depths of emerald absinthe
and plunge through the twists of the labyrinth
gather at crossroads and jump to the wind
dance in the graveyards and revel in sin
our innocence lost and our faith destroyed
spiraling down into lightless void
drunken on dreams and ceaselessly sleeping
here in the garden the angels are weeping"
The living shoppers wandered through the wondrous forest, unable to either see it or touch it. From my perspective living were like ghosts, ethereally passing through gem trees, untouched by their sharp edges.
One pair moved to display, and at their request, a seller took out a diamond ring, and a tree that sprouted from it crashed in glittering shards. And yet, none of the living saw it.
But I did not sign for them, nor had I created this display for them.
"Blinded by pleasure we long to be free
striving towards something we no longer see
the world is burning our minds are on fire
consume and consuming in seething desire
slaves of sensation is something we've lost
we've ransomed our passion, heedless the cost
Promethean girls, we have ceased the flames
but our theft is rewarded with eternal chains"
Sometimes, one needs to know when to quit, especially when a romantic gesture fails. Persistence is not always a virtue; sometimes, it can be just annoying. In some cases, it can even devolve into stalking
I stopped signing and let go.
The scene I had conjured faded like a dream after awakening, leaving just a mundane shop in its wake.
It was as if nothing had happened, and from a certain, living, point of view, nothing did.
It seemed that my sexy angel costume was not doing anything for Archer.
Pity I liked that one. In the end, I decided to go with Elven clothing, complete with a silver circlet with onyx in the front. I got used to it.
"It works. You just need to want it. You try it."
Watching from the outside was different. The cloth flowed like it was alive. In a way, it reminded me of my slime familiar. The lines were especially interesting because they moved as if they were connected to the material they were painted on.
In a moment he was wearing the same outfit he wore as Servant, except for the color. Well, something that looked more or less like his outfit. Truth be told, he looked like he was cosplaying.
"Good", I said, "Can you make a sword?"
"Easy," he replied, and a simple longsword appeared in his hand. "But it's fake."
"All of your swords are fake."
He sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I mean, it's not functional. It can't cut anything. Are we staying here, or have you finished?"
I pondered for a moment. "I'm done. But, does 'winter river' mean anything to you?"
He shook his head. "No."
Our quest for a bookstore took us through the bustling streets of the city, a landscape we traversed like phantoms. Eventually, we followed a bird – a raven, or perhaps a crow. I mused it could even be a goth pigeon, given my lack of ornithological knowledge.
The Argosy bookstore towered before us, its seven floors a labyrinth of antique books and maps – a treasure trove for any seeker.
We split up, me exploring the first floor for books on hauntings and mediums, while Archer ventured to the second. The realization that we couldn't physically touch any of the books struck us like a cold wave. All around us lay the knowledge we sought, untouchable and unreachable.
Sitting amidst the silent tomes, a wave of despair washed over me. Were we doomed to be unseen wraiths, forever wandering, unnoticed, and impotent? The doom of the Elves who defied the West's judgment flashed through my mind. I considered asking Archer if it was all worth it but hesitated, fearing his answer.
Of course, he wasn't there to hear my silent question.
Shaking off the self-pity, I ascended to the second floor. Here, a sea of ancient maps, sea charts, atlases, and globes unfolded before me. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and forgotten journeys.
I found Archer in a nook, surrounded by maps of Connecticut. His focus was intense as he scrutinized an old map.
"This is futile," I lamented. "We can't interact with anything."
Archer looked up, a spark of something like hope in his eyes. "Not entirely. You mentioned Winter River, right? Look here." He gestured towards a spot on the map.
There it was, small and seemingly insignificant, yet it jumped out at us with sudden importance – the village of Winter River.
Our next destination.