Vividus Phantasma (A very long story)

[DrBeansMD]

Chapter 1
Adventus

It was terrifying to be free. Soon, I would be leaving little Ontario behind for a much bigger adventure. Years ago, I had been invited to intern in Washington, D.C. for one of the Oregon senators. I wasn’t expecting the offer, and at least wanted to wait until I was out of high school to work for him.
Now the time had come. I had made all the preparations, packed everything I would need, and purchased my plane ticket.
For the first time in my life, I would be completely on my own. My parents weren’t accompanying me, and there would be no one there to bail me out if I got into trouble. I hoped I would not find myself in trouble.
It was June, and the airport was warm and crowded. My mother had walked with me as far as security, and I was now alone. I found my way to the gate just fine, and was waiting in line to board. My first flight would take me to Seattle, where I would board the jet to Reagan National Airport in D.C.
The flight to Seattle was uneventful, and since it was very early in the morning I, like many of the other passengers, decided to snooze on the way there. It was a calm, unexciting flight. The second was not nearly as relaxing.
The plane took off without a problem, but somewhere over the Midwest, things began to get dicey. I saw dark, rolling clouds outside of my window, and became concerned. The ding of the intercom interrupted my thoughts.
“This is your captain speaking, we are currently flying through an unexpected thunderstorm. We ask that you remain calm and avoid moving about the cabin. We may experience some mild turbulence, as this could be a tornado-forming thunderstorm. I’m turning on the ‘fasten seatbelts’ sign.”
“Great,” the man next to me mumbled as he sipped from his glass of wine. He was a rather large man, and wore reading glasses that seemed much too small for his face. He returned to his sudoku book, having voiced his complaint.
I leaned my head up against the wall of the plane and tried to sleep as the sky grew darker around me. I hoped that the pilots knew what they were doing. The distant thunder rolled softly as I rested. I shut my eyes and dozed off for just a few minutes.
Suddenly, I awoke to a bright flash and the loud crack of thunder. My eyes opened just in time to see the plane be thrust into darkness. I heard the man next to me fumble around in his bag for a flashlight, only to hear him curse at it when it wouldn’t turn on. What little vision I had came from the phone lights and glowsticks of other passengers.
The whole plane was in a commotion, but that was drowned out by a second lightning strike that must have been very close to my window, for it was extremely bright, and left me deafened. Soon afterward, even the phones and glowsticks went dark.
I was overcome with nausea, and a feeling of falling, before I saw the flash of a third lightning strike which shook the entire plane. Time seemed to slow down to the point of stopping.
“So this is what it feels like to die,” I thought to myself as I fell through the thunderstorm in a failing plane. Upon impact, I felt a surprising stillness, and closed my eyes to shut out the impending destruction.

  

The first thing I remember was a voice. It was masculine, and old with a thick accent that sounded Scottish.
“Aye, she will live. The fall caused only minor flesh wounds, though I should probably see to that cut on her face.”
Then another voice, younger, and female this time.
“She doesn’t look like she’s from any of the other tribes, certainly not ours. She looks a little like a Clavat, but her porportions are all wrong.”
My vision was beginning to return. I saw two shapes, blurry at first, but becoming clearer as my eyes adjusted to the dim light.
“It could be that she was born deformed,” continued the female voice.
“Possible, but unlikely. I’ve never seen a Clavat this deformed survive past infancy.”
I soon realized that both beings seemed to be completely covered in what looked like ornate armor. They looked as if they didn’t even have bodies. Their limbs were incredibly thin, their necks about ten inches ling, and no thicker than my forearm. The slightly oversized hands, the small vestigial wings, even the incredible height seemed impossible. Not a millimeter of flesh was exposed, leading me to believe they had none at all.
Their decorative helmets vaguely resembled bird heads, and accentuated how foreign I was. But I had no way to get home and no idea of how to go about finding one. Nor did I know how I was able to understand what these beings were saying.
The air was moist and I could tell it was raining. My body was somewhat twisted on the ground, my head and shoulders lying flat while the rest of me was rolled up in half of a fetal position to my left. The older being was kneeling over me, holding my right shoulder down with one hand and using a wet cloth to wipe the left side of my face with the other.
“Hold still,” he said, noticing for the first time that I was awake, “this cut is deeper than I thought it was. Ami, get me that needle and thread out of my bag over there. Perfect. Now turn her head so I can see the left side better, and hold it there. This might hurt a bit…”
It did hurt, but not so much that I couldn’t bear it. He stitched the wound shut, and helped me sit up.
“Now then,” he began, “you’re probably wondering where you are, how you got here, and all sorts of other things. Unfortunately, the two of us can only answer one of those questions. That would be as to your whereabouts.”
My voice was hoarse when I tried to speak, and the older one hushed me before I could say anything intelligible.
“The Edge of Existence. You are at the Edge of Existence and Oblivion,” said the younger one.
Existence and Oblivion. I didn’t have a clue what that meant. They went on to explain that their people had been here almost 900 years, after losing a war with an enemy tribe called Lilty. Their tribal crystal had been destroyed in the war, meaning that they could no longer exist in that world. Their entire tribe, or what was left of it, was sent here.
They continued to tell me about themseves, what made them different from the other tribes, what was similar. I listened patiently, though I was eager to find a way back to my world. They told me that they had no actual bodies, that they were only soals encased in armor. The younger one did most of the talking, while the older one continued to treat my other injuries.
“What is your name?” she finally asked me.
I told her my name and she seemed to almost smile, even though a Yuke cannot really show expression, since metal helmets replace their faces. Even so, I could tell that she was happy and slightly amused.
“Maarika? That’s a beautiful name. Mine is Amidatellion. This is Waltril,” she continued as she pointed to her older companion.
Amidatellion helped me to my feet and offered to show me the Yuke city. It would have been very foolish to refuse. I had nowhere to go, and no idea if I could get out of this strange place. I asked her if there was any way that I could get home.
“Sadly, although we Yukes are known for our wisdom and skill with magic, nobody has even been able to figure out how you got here, much less how to get you out of here. Not even Eleanor knows.”
That was not what I wanted to hear. It seemed that I would be here for quite a long time.