Troy preened his flowing red and gold feathers with his sharp beak idly. He was a Phoelarch, a sort of Aarakocra/Phoenix hybrid and possibly one-of-a-kind. He was well-muscled but gangly, with long arms with hands scaled and tipped with claws. Feathered, of course, all over, his arms capable of doubling as wings. Wind whistled up from below him. He was standing on the skyscraper that was once Sebastian’s. Below him, lit with a midday sun, was Myth City.
Far below him, riding dragons weaved through the streets. Cars and trucks had been deeply reduced to keep the Lion Turtle happy. Not that it ever spoke. Apparently it was his acquaintance from the office, Mark, but after Paradox shifted reality that didn’t matter. The myst was nice today, a cool breeze was blowing in from the sea.
The peaks and valleys of the Turtle Lion’s shell made Myth City a sort of rolling city. The far outskirts that used to be deserts had transformed into fertile valley and terraced farmlands. The Shell, as the natives called it, was entirely self-sustainable. Magic made those farms triple in productivity, easily capable of feeding the city. He would have gone on tours if he had been allowed to grow up naturally.
Troy stretched his arm-wings and tested his flight feathers. Then he dove, careening through the city, buffeted by the pockets of turbulence created by the skyscrapers. There was a little fae-world and Spanish fusion bodega he loved, and paid for a stack of tortillas. They upset his stomach but they were so worth it. He took off again, straining to gain proper lift and finally found a good draft that took him all the way home. He landed lightly on the lawn of their Malibu mansion twenty minutes later, panting heavily.
He didn’t let anyone know that flying was exhausting for him, like a constant aerobic exercise. It was getting easier every day, especially after his masseuse, Tanaka, worked out his flight muscles. But still, he wasn’t sure if other Aarakocra had issues with flying like he did.
Tanaka was many things: a tanuki, a masseuse, a trained acupuncturist, a chef…the list went on. Mostly he was a friend who listened to him complain about his guardian Xarxos. Xarxos was a minotaur, some in Myth City said he was THE minotaur, thought Troy didn’t actually believe that part.
Xarxos was just…kind of an overbearing asshole. Do this. Don’t do that. Troy knew who he was now, he wasn’t a hatchling with little memory of his past. It was kind of a confusing jumble, which Xarxos helped him sort through, but he knew he used to be human and lived in an apartment and was straight. He wasn’t sure if he was straight anymore and he definitely wasn’t human-frail things doomed to die.
That was a big reason he bore a grudge against the minotaur. A chance to experience childhood again, taken from him. Myth City had something of its own social structure-the longer lived or immortal myths generally drifted to the top naturally over time. Wasn’t fair, of course, but reality-even fantastical reality-rarely was. Troy had wanted to be…it was going to sound stupid and selfish…but he’d wanted to be the cool kid in school. He wanted to win at life, wash the taste of being mediocre and ending up in a shitty office job after college out of his mouth.
Instead, he was being put through his paces, physically and mentally, by the over-muscled bull-man. He couldn’t enjoy himself. Wasn’t allowed to. Xarxos explained that he had to win some game, save the world. It was heavy shit to lay on a person who had been a teenager for all of ten days.
They had two mansions, owned the penthouse of a skyscraper downtown. Rich, immortal, why would he want to go after a dumb Book and risk lose everything he had going here? It was sheer stupidity. But…when he grappled with the situation himself, he couldn’t see any other way forward. This game or whatever it was, had to end.
He entered the cliff-side manor and unpacked his lunch. Still warm, but he microwaved them quick before giving the meat a squeeze of fae-lyme. Troy chowed down happily, tears rolling down his beak, the salsa so hot and yet so delicious he couldn’t stop eating it.
“Troy!” Xarxos barked, the huge minotaur stomping into the kitchen, “Where have you been! We’ve got more training to do!”
“Like what?” Troy spat. “I know everything. I laugh in the face of Paradox.”
“Not spells.” Xarxos sighed. “Running. Weight lifting. I managed to have an inside man run The Maze at the casino and he brought back the blueprints to a few traps he encountered.”
“Did you carve a fake Maze in our mountain and expect me to run it?” Troy asked, dreading the answer.
“Of course.” Xarxos smiled.
Troy sighed.
“Sigh all you want, Troy, you need to work on it. Tanaka is teaching you cooking and we have a siren coming over to teach you how to sing so well you captivate and hypnotize.”
“Singing lessons? Seriously?” Troy rolled his eyes.
“You have the vocal cords for it now.” Xarxos pointed out. “You want to keep all this? You have to earn it.”
“Right, right. When’s my poker trainer coming?”
“Tomorrow.” Xarxos sighed. “We don’t have much time, you know. Rok says Time is getting impatient. Worse, the longer that casino goes on, the more he’s protected from Paradox. The casino is designed to be, like, a gigantic magic ritual.”
“So, like, what Sebastian was doing?”
“Yes and no.” Xarxos sighed. “He’s not using the Book. He’s using real, actual magic. Like the traps and enchantments on Sebastian’s manor.”
“He’s cheating and bypassing Paradox and if we destroy his casino…Paradox hits and takes out more of my friends, but that won’t matter because I’ll be god or something at that point?”
“No. You need to defeat Arcane for that. And there’s a few more Book users left at that point, anyways. Book of Nature, Book of Dreams and Book of Space.”
“And the 13th?” Troy asked.
“The Final Book. Only exists when someone combines all 12 Books.” Xarxos explained. “From what we know, Book of Nature is…busy, but looking for the Book of Beasts. She’s…an interesting character. Don’t let her get the drop on you.”
“She won’t come here?”
“No. Rok says she views the myst as unnatural. If she wins, the human race goes extinct.”
“Win rate?”
“10%. She’s too mentally unstable to win. Doesn’t matter if you end up a tree or a squirrel in the mean time.”
“Wait…does she ever take me out?”
“Sure.” Xarxos shrugged. “We all get taken out in one timeline or another. The only timeline you should care about is this one.”
“But I’m still a fucking tree in some time line, Xarxos.”
“Not if you win, kid.” Xarxos gripped Troy’s talons in his hoofed hand. “You win in all timelines. It’s like Schrodinger's Cat. Right now, you are both a tree and a phoenix-kin and probably a million other horrible things. Once someone wins, in any timeline, that timeline is official.”
“Got it.” Troy took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s still a terrifying concept.”
“I know.”
“Okay, Dreams and Space?”
“Space is fighting in the wrong Book war. Huge Japanophile, he’s busy over there. His Auditor must be fucking furious. Dreams hasn’t moved, but…”
“What?”
“Rok suggests we just blow up the town to take them out.” Xarxos said. “Dream is a trap.”
“Gods…”
“But Arcane is a big deal. We don’t know where she is.
“I thought you said she was in the casino.”
“Maybe,” Xarxos said slowly, “But my spies say no Book owner has entered the casino. That's why Time is getting pissed.”
“So…she could be here.”
“Unlikely. My people are watching the bridges.”
“So…” Troy bit his lip. “She’s waiting for us to fight Time and take out the winner?”
“Or she’s going after Nature or taking out Dreams. She seems to sweep up weak Book owners.” Xarxos sighed. “And she kills. No mercy whatsoever.”
“She doesn’t exactly have a Book that lends itself to nonlethal attacks.” Troy shrugged.
“...You know I don’t believe in lethal anything.”
“How do you want me to deal with her? She can dispel magic.” Troy asked.
“Yeah,” Xarxos rubbed his muzzle. “That’s a problem. She’s holding a Book, too, so she’ll have forewarning.”
“Then she turns and fries me with a lightning bolt.” Troy tapped his talon on the kitchen counter. “She’s a hard target. But I have a few ideas on how to deal with her.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll keep those cards close to my chest, thanks. I’ll just say this: She relies on her Book. I don’t plan on using magic.”
“Nonlethal?” Xarxos growled warningly.
“Up to her.” Troy shrugged. “I won’t kill her.”
There was a ring from the gate. Xarxos pulled out a smart pad and examined the security for the front gate.
“Mailman.”
“I’ll get it.” Troy jumped to his feet.
“No.” Xarxos grabbed Troy’s arm and swung him back into his seat. “It could be an ambush. Stay.”
Troy rolled his eyes and crossed his arm-wings.
Xarxos came back, holding a black envelope.
“What?”
“It’s an invitation.” Xarxos handed the envelope to Troy.
You are cordially invited to the Mag Mell Casino, Troy. If you do not visit in seven days, consider this a formal declaration of war. -Dolan
“It’s time.” Xarxos said.
Troy nodded, his guts cold and sour.