Wonder Made

Sixteen, Part One

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Gideon Darquish finds himself bored, wandering the vast, empty wasteland of the Refinery, a tight-lipped, scowling sea-captain his only companion. Boredom is a dangerous place for any to inhabit for too long as evils often arise from the occupation of this mindset. Segways, all forms of cryptocurrency, platypuses, subscription boxes and gluten intolerances, are but a few examples of what comes when excitement lapses.

And true to his villainous façade, Gideon fends off his boredom the worst way possible - by telling Stormholden everything. No on-purpose purple prose or cryptic language. No air of mystique or mystery. He feeds the captain straight facts one after another about what he is, and more importantly what he is not.

Now when you believe you are something, only to find out you are, in fact, not that something, the world can feel like it has crumbled. And this feeling of free-fall, this sense of never finding the ground again, can cause one to spiral into an existential crisis.

This is where the captain finds himself now. Dread mushroom clouds inside the captain's aura, coloring his normal light blue with that of harsh, uncomfortable mustard yellow as he attempts to confront the meaning of life. He stops trudging through the dunes, a single name echoing in his head.

Nep.

According to Gideon, she is another devil; the curse pumping through her veins as easily as blood. And to belie this demonic nature, Stormholden has learned she is the originator of all his suffering.

His father's fall from grace - his alcoholism, and frequent brothel visits, his violent outbursts. The war, of which Stormholden still wore his scars deep on his psyche and soul. The Red Blight, the death toll so high, the air had often been suffocating, the dead's ashes coating his teeth and throat with each breath he took. From city to village, the corpses couldn't be burned fast enough.

And Matilda - lovely, exquisite Matilda. Stormholden's one true love. Ripped away from him, an irreparable hole gouged upon his heart. Their parting had almost killed him, had led him dangerously near the path his father had once trod upon. Many nights he lay in back alleys, on his back, soaked in urine, rolling an empty bottle on his palm, and gazing up at the stars, wondering. Why, why had it been him? Why was it always him? Why, had it seemed, happiness was to remain a dream to him, as unattainable as the very stars he stared up at? 

But what if...

Gideon had told him he didn't exist. And if Stormholden wasn't real, was Matilda? What of their love, so strong a force the captain thought it capable of moving mountains, but, what if he'd been made to feel that way, and the same went for Matilda? What if their choice of partner had been made for them? 

Gideon wets his lips, relishing in the captain's turmoil. It is not just the cherry on top, but the whole diabolical sundae. In a way, he's perverting the captain without resorting to magic. Gideon congratulates himself on a victory won with only words. Like Crispen, he too is incredibly short-sighted, much to his own detriment.