Chapter 1 #2
A child in Detroit whose tears were manifesting as storm clouds.
A woman in Berlin whose anger had created shadow creatures that were terrorizing her neighborhood.
College students who had accidentally transformed their dormitory into a sentient creature that was now attempting to walk while demanding coffee.
“The barriers between consciousness and the Web have been completely shattered, and the Web can turns dreams into reality, sooooo…” Puck continued, his tone shifting from playful to something approaching serious and back again with no warning.
“The Web transforms thoughts into reality, so every stray idea with sufficient emotional weight behind it is manifesting physically.
This merged world has become a collaborative nightmare, and most of the participants don't even realize they're contributing to it.”
As if to punctuate his words, a flock of origami birds suddenly burst from the grass near Ava's feet, their paper wings somehow carrying them aloft as they wheeled overhead in a perfect formation before settling in the branches of the nearest oak tree.
The tree, apparently deciding it liked them, immediately began sprouting paper leaves to match.
Everyone stared.
“Did you do that?” Serrik asked her quietly.
“I…I don't think so,” she stammered, shaking her head. Then she realized that wait, no, she had. With a sigh, she shut her eyes. “Puck mentioned haikus, and then I guess that had me thinking about Japan, and I was just thinking about how peaceful paper cranes are, and—”
“And now they exist.” Puck gestured at the tree. “Along with a tree that's apparently decided to cosplay as an origami forest. Wonderful. The Weaver's subconscious is now reshaping reality faster than she can think.”
Ava watched the paper birds settling into their new paper home, and a terrible thought occurred to her. “If I'm doing this unconsciously, then what happens when I sleep? What happens when I dream, now?”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“Well.” Serrik clasped his hands behind his back. “That may be…a matter of concern.”
“Concern?” Ava turned on him. “That's all you have to say? A matter of concern? I could accidentally dream up the end of everything!”
“I believe, dear Ava, you already have.” He shrugged idly. “Besides, dwelling on that possibility will only make it more likely to manifest. One of the interesting side effects of your little reality restructuring efforts is that fear, like everything else, now has weight and substance.”
To demonstrate his point, he gestured toward the horizon. Dark clouds were gathering there, shot through with veins of silver and gold that pulsed like a heartbeat. Beneath the clouds, Ava could see flashes of light that had nothing to do with lightning.
“What is that?” she asked.
Puck consulted his tablet, which now seemed to be displaying feeds from news sources that definitely didn't exist yesterday.
Some of the people speaking were definitely not human.
“Oh, that? That's London. Was London? It’s London-ish.
The collective fear and panic of nine million people has manifested as something that I believe your mythology would call an 'apocalypse demon.
' It's currently eating the Tower Bridge.”
Ava stared at the distant storm clouds, feeling a crushing weight settle on her shoulders. “This is all my fault.”
“Yes,” Serrik said simply. “It is.”
“You could try to be a little more supportive,” she snapped. “You’re also a big part of why we’re in this fucking mess, spooder boy.”
He ignored the nickname, though he did arch an eyebrow.
“I could be more supportive, yes. But lying to you seems counterproductive at this point.” He moved closer, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin—real warmth, from a real body in real sunlight.
“The question is not whether you're responsible for this chaos. For the third time, I repeat, the question is what you intend to do about it.”
“I don't know how to fix something like this,” she said, and hated how small her voice sounded.
“I’m one person. One very confused, very overwhelmed person who apparently can't think about origami without breaking fucking reality, Serrik. But I need to find a way to put things right. This needs to be undone.”
“Well.” There was a small smile playing at the corners of Serrik’s mouth, “This should be interesting.”
“Interesting?" Ava turned to him. “How is any of this interesting?”
“Because,” he said, moving to stand directly in front of her, his golden eyes serious despite the smile still tugging at his lips, “my darling Weaver, I do not know what it shall take to untangle this mess you have made. Whatever it may be, I know it will likely put us at odds with my dear half-brother. And, despite the situation, I know that the fae shall not change their motivations. And neither shall I.”
“I—” She paused. “Fuck.” Right. Fantastic. “Can you two not try to murder each other until we get this thing straightened out?”
“Pardon me, I am confused. I thought violence between Valroy and I was what you were attempting to accomplish when you did this.” Serrik gestured at the amalgamation of skylines behind her. “Or am I mistaken?”
Growling she pointed at him, and really wished she had a good comeback for that. “That was when I didn’t care what happened to Tir n’Aill.”
“And now you do?”
“I—I mean—” She put a hand over her eyes.
“Now is not the time! And I don’t want to have to break up a shit-fight between you and your brother when Earth is on the line, okay?
Can we please talk about this another time?
Please?” She was going to start crying at this point.
She was absolutely at the end of her leash. “I can’t take any more of this.”
“As you wish, Ava.”
She was just a college dropout who'd gotten in way over her head. Looking around at the impossible landscape she'd created, she let out a wavering breath.
She broke it.
She had to fix it.
Could she, though?
And how?
Or would she just make things worse?
Closing her eyes, she tried very hard not to think about anything at all. But she could feel it anyway—the power inside her, vast and uncontrolled, reshaping reality with every stray thought, every unconscious desire.
She'd wanted to force Serrik and Valroy to face each other directly. Well, that was still probably going to happen.
She'd wanted to take control of her own fate. Mission accomplished.
She'd wanted answers, truth, an end to the manipulation and lies that had defined her existence since entering the Web.
What she'd gotten was a world where truth and fiction, dream and reality, had become indistinguishable.
Where every thought had weight, every emotion had consequence, and every choice could literally reshape the fabric of existence.
Opening her eyes, she looked at Serrik and Puck—one ancient and patient, the other chaotic and gleeful—both of them looking to her for answers she didn't have.
“Right.” She threw up her hands. What else was there to do? “Anyone have any bright ideas about how to save three worlds that are now one extremely screwed-up world?”
Neither of them said anything.
She gestured toward the New-Boston-York skyline. “Well. I guess we might as well start walking.”
“Oooh! We’re on a quest!” Puck cackled. “I love quests.”
Ava figured it was time to place bets on how long it would take before Serrik murdered Puck.
But she couldn’t really spend much time focusing on that.
Because there she was, walking through a meadow full of living origami paper cranes and razor-petaled flowers, and trying to figure out how to un-fuck the universe.
It was going to be a very long day.