Uzi leaned wearily against the boats railing; the salt-crusted timber digging sharply into his back; the crashing of waves the sole consistent noise, in existence. The sun spilled across the skyline; transforming the ocean into copper; and the breeze brought the subtle aroma of smoke that had trailed them throughout the day. His hand repeatedly moved to the tear-shaped mark on his forearm; following the black-and-white bands; the small inscribed 6 that burned intensely than the fading glow. Each time he made contact a pulse responded; as if something, beneath the skin was paying attention.Why this body? He mulled over the question repeatedly; like a tongue tests a damaged tooth. Rathra might have selected anything. A massive fighter shaped for battle; a slate devoid of memories; even a childs body to taunt him even more.. Instead he had been forced into this one; slender, marked with scars and off. It seemed used; as if another person had inhabited it for ages and abandoned fragments, along the way. Unexpectedly emotions overwhelmed him: panic gripping his throat; anger, with a tang; an abrupt foolish desire to impress two strangers. The ancient Uzi, the deity who had judged souls from a throne had never experienced such feelings. He had been serene, detached, everlasting. This physical form pulled him into the mire of humanity. Continued to strike. And the stone petal; that fractured aqua shard Rathra had shattered as if it meant nothing. Where had it originated? What purpose did sealing a body within a stone serve; like some artifact concealed from the world? Rathra disappeared, murmuring grumpily like a teenager "be back"; then reappeared bearing new cuts slashing his arm and face; dark blood shining briefly before he brushed it off. Scratches, on Rathra. The man who had broken a god easily as glass; who had passed through sacred flames unflinching; was branded by something while obtaining a vessel. Whatever protected that petal had wounded him. Rathra evaded Beats inquiries with a silence as a blade; a trace of scorn appearing when Uzis fresh eyes identified the figure; just familiar enough to provoke unease. Not exact recognition; like a creeping déjà vu, beneath the skin. Uzis gut churned. Rathra had gazed at him; truly gazed; and an enigmatic flicker had passed through those merciless eyes. Familiarity? Mockery? Loathing? It was, like looking into a mirror that despised him in return. Afterward the previous hallucination slithered back into his mind. The reflection, in the water; his own face; expressionless and gazing; silently forming words he couldn't catch. The voice that came after; resonant; "Why are you here." Not inquisitive. Blaming. It seemed to arise from everywhere and nowhere; as if the sea itself uttered his taken voice. Was the body turning against him? Was the mark seeping poison into his thoughts?. Had Beat's red-and-blue turmoil created fractures within his spirit that were just beginning to seep? He pressed his eyes firmly until flickers appeared behind his eyelids. Everything seemed skewed; hues overly vivid; the atmosphere dense; feelings overpowering. Even the mundane task of scrubbing the deck before had seemed strange; why had he volunteered? Gods didn't wipe floors. Gods didn't perspire or smell or worry if two elderly humans believed they were deceitful.. He had done it regardless; softly humming like some mortal adolescent pleased, with spotless boards. This body rewrote him sentence by sentence;. The most frightening aspect was how hardly he resisted. Rathras smile flickered in his mind; overly broad and razor-sharp; eyes shimmering with that composure. There had been an instant; after the soul-transfer; when Rathra had drawn near enough for Uzi to detect the scent of smoke and blood on his breath. Something, about that look had seemed... Known. Not the recognition of a foe encountered before; deeper; ancient; like a word lingering on the edge of memory in a tongue you thought you'd lost. Did Rathra deliberately select this body; not brutality but intentional; precise wickedness? A penalty crafted perfectly for a wrongdoing Uzi could not recall committing? The inquiries piled up increasingly; a spire of questions that wavered with the breeze. Why the marks; why the rock; why restrictions, on his magic; why the abrupt surge of uncertainty, fear and concern. Why did Rathra regard him as if repaying a centuries- debt? His head pounded; thoughts spiraling tightly; a knot tightened until it ached. The boat swayed softly under him; the voices of Garnet and Guntic floated quietly from the cabin; discussing plans, for the day; chuckling over a trivial human matter. Uzi longed for ease. His own thoughts resembled a war zone strewn with mirrors; each fragment reflecting a distinct version of himself he could not identify. The deck boards felt cool, against his back as he eventually slid down too exhausted to remain upright longer. The sky overhead had turned an indigo; the initial stars beginning to sparkle. He intended to sit up; planned to keep pondering until clarity emerged. Instead sleep swept him away like a wave; abrupt and relentless; questions still whirling as darkness claimed the world. Hands roused him gently but firmly. Garnet bent down beside him; her tall figure casting a shadow against the morning; glasses gleaming like a pair of moons. Her lips formed a sincere smile; kind and comforting despite the break of day. "Get up. Brighten up kid. We've arrived." Uzi's eyes fluttered open feeling drowsy; the deck firm, beneath his shoulder blades. His entire body throbbed from the mattress; neck rigid; scars prickling. Garnets cheerful mood rubbed off briefly; until recollection rushed in and the burden of it all returned. "I'll be there shortly " he muttered, his voice hoarse and rough. He rose gradually; joints creaking; and made his way below deck to the cramped bathroom. The mirror reflected a face with hair pressed down by sleep and dark circles, beneath the eyes; this bodys eyes; somber, human and weary. He poured water onto his face; combed damp fingers through the tangled hair until it settled flat enough. On the shelf rested a white stick; deodorant; an item he'd never used in the Otherworld. He wrung it curiously; the pine-citrus aroma lifting sharply. As a god he had been scentless; flawless; immortal. Now this flesh. Reeked like any human. He rolled it beneath his arms; the chilly glide odd and anchoring; another sign he was no longer what he once was. As he returned onto the deck the atmosphere had shifted. The scent of the ocean was absent; substituted by a lifeless odor. Guntic remained at the railing; an unlit pipe held firmly between his teeth; gazing forward. Garnet lingered near the gangplank; backpack carried high; scarf already covering her mouth and nose. Uzi looked in the direction they were staring. The town stretched out before them like a body abandoned long under the sun. All was dust and ruin. Homes turned into scorched frames; roofs caved in; walls drooping like softened candle wax. Roads covered by mounds of ash; delicate, as powder; drifting slowly in the dawn wind. Burnt timbers protruded crookedly; some still faintly glowing; wisps of smoke rising against a sky bruised in hue. A childs shoe rested half-covered by the pier; sole melted; laces gone in flames. A market stalls structure sagged askew; bolts of fabric tatters of charred remnants. The fountain, in the plaza had split through the center; its basin packed with ash resembling grubby snow. Outside the town the forest extended in condition; a sea of scorched spikes where trees formerly grew; trunks broken and fallen; branches reaching into emptiness. No leaves; no hint of green all. The soil itself seemed tainted; cracked and blistered; as though the fire had penetrated deeply and baked the ground. Ash descended slowly; flakes floating down to cover their shoulders; their hair; the boats deck. It entered his mouth as he inhaled; bitter and suffocating. Uzi remained motionless by the railing; the cane neglected in his grasp. The vision hit him forcefully than any punch; stronger, than Rathras boot crashing into his stomach. This matched what he had seen from above after passing through that portal; flames reaching the canopy; cries muffled by smoke. Now however it was tangible; quiet; conclusive. The very atmosphere seemed lifeless; weighed down by the spirits of all that had been incinerated. His knees buckled slightly; the teardrop brand pulsing hot against his skin like it recognized its maker's work and approved. All of it; gone. Because of them. Because of him; in some twisted way; for failing to stop it. Ash settled on his lashes; he didn't blink it away. He just stared; throat raw; the horrible; ruined town filling every inch of the world.
