The desolation war custo.., p.1
The Desolation War (Custodians of the Cosmos Book 3), page 1
THE DESOLATION WAR
©2024 TIM WAGGONER
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Custodians of the Cosmos
The Atrocity Engine
Book of Madness
The Desolation War
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Thank you for reading The Desolation War
About the Author
One
Rachel Blackburn loathed Ash Creek’s Southside.
When she’d lived in town, she’d avoided the area. The Southside was the poorest section of Ash Creek, and it was an absolute fucking dump—abandoned buildings, cracked and crumbling sidewalks, pothole-filled streets, debris-choked alleys crawling with vermin … The air stank of vehicle exhaust, urine, shit, vomit, and rotting, diseased meat. The people here were of two physical types: lean and malnourished or fat and blotchy-skinned, but regardless of their shape, their clothes were old, torn, and stained, their eyes glazed and bloodshot from alcohol or drugs. The place was a cliché of how middle- and upper-class people thought the poor lived and, to be fair, the entire Southside wasn’t this bad. But this part was an Overlay, a section of the real world that overlapped Shadow, an aspect of reality that existed on the edge of the Gyre, the great hungry mouth at the center of the Omniverse. Overlays became infused with Shadow’s entropic energy, transforming them into areas of decay and ruin. Rachel had been a candidate for membership in the Multitude once, the organization of godlike beings dedicated to increasing Entropy in all realities. But she’d never gotten used to how repellent certain aspects of Entropy could be, and she’d never become a full-fledged member of the Multitude. But that was okay. She was something else now—something better.
And she had work to do.
It was mid-August in Southwest Ohio, almost a year since Rachel had been banished from Ash Creek and condemned by Brother Nothing to burn in the heart of the sun. Because of this, she did not experience heat the same way ordinary humans did, but damn, it was hot out! A hundred degrees Fahrenheit, if not higher.
Of course, she didn’t have to feel the heat. The body she currently wore was a construct, a recreation of her earthly form that made it easier for her to move undetected among ordinary humans. She was a being of pure energy now, immensely powerful. But she was unpracticed at wielding this power, and she’d recreated her physical body down to the last detail—which was why she was sweating profusely now. She didn’t want to waste time or energy destroying her disguise and creating another, so she would have to tough it out.
She wore simple white clothes—loose short-sleeved cotton shirt and slacks, along with white sandals—but her outfit only made her slightly more comfortable than she might’ve been otherwise. The Multitude approved of climate change since it increased Entropy, and they helped it along wherever they could, but she could definitely do without it. Not that it mattered much since this world would soon be gone. No, not gone. Preserved.
As she drew closer to the Shadow side of the Overlay, things began to change, becoming increasingly sinister and nightmarish. Most humans wouldn’t be fully aware of this transformation, would experience only a warning tingle on the back of their necks, a cold, sick flutter deep in their stomachs, a profound sense that something here was Wrong with a capital W, and they’d turn around and hurry back the way they’d come—assuming something didn’t leap out from a dark alley and sink its claws into them first. But other humans, those who had the Eye, could see into Shadow, allowing them to avoid its hazards and walk here relatively unscathed. Some were born with the Eye, while some acquired it by living in an Overlay for a time. Rachel had possessed the Eye since birth and had always been cognizant of Shadow. It was one of the reasons Brother Nothing had recruited her for the Multitude in the first place, and her special vision had only grown sharper since.
The buildings here housed businesses that were typical for the Southside: short-term loans, bail bonds, sketchy tattoo shops … But stranger establishments were interspersed among them, ones that only someone like Rachel could see, with odd names like The Yellow Door, Scarbone, the Long Room, Kiss His Sin, and The Under. These places catered to Shadowers, people who spent most—if not all—of their time in the Overlay, to the point where its dark energies transformed them into beings only partially human. Rachel viewed Shadowers as dilettantes who only played at being monsters. She was the real deal.
It was early afternoon, but while the majority of the Overlay’s denizens were primarily active at night, there were still a good number of pedestrians and drivers out. Many of them looked normal enough for the Southside—grubby clothes, bloodshot eyes, hungry faces—but others showed signs of having been changed by Shadow’s negative energy. Tentacles in place of fingers, extra facial features or none at all, large tusks jutting from mouths, a shimmering aura of distortion in the air around their bodies … and some were from different dimensions entirely, having crossed into this world via Shadow. Rachel saw Desecraters, Slow Men, Corrupted Ones, Maskers, and other beings she couldn’t identify. Both Shadowers and Outsiders gave her wary glances and made sure to stay out of her way. They might not know exactly what she was, but they knew trouble when they saw it.
Rachel came to the mouth of an alley, turned, and stepped inside. It was typical for the Overlay—arcane symbols spraypainted on brick walls, scattered bones with toothmarks on their surfaces, strange vermin with too many legs crawling through piles of foul-smelling trash. Disgusting, but this was the only way in town to get to where she needed to go.
When she exited the alley, she found herself on a street in a front of a parking lot with ugly foot-high weeds growing out of numerous cracks in the asphalt. The plants were a dark, purplish color like a deep bruise, long spines grew from their surfaces, and they swayed slightly back and forth, although the air here was absolutely still. In the middle of the lot was a small, windowless white building with a flat black roof and a single white door. Two words were painted on the door’s surface in precise black letters: Tainted Pages.
Rachel smiled. She could’ve opened a Rift close to the building—directly in front of the door, if she’d wished—but she hadn’t wanted to alert the Proprietor to her presence by unleashing that much energy all at once, so she’d walked. Sure, it had taken longer, but at least she’d gotten her steps in.
She headed for the building, and the contagiums leaned toward her, eager to pierce her flesh with their spines. The plants produced a toxin that gave their victim a random illness—anything from the common cold to the deadliest of cancers. There was no way to predict what would happen to you—it was a complete crapshoot—but the more spines you were stuck by, the greater your chances of contracting something nasty. If you were a normal human, that was. Rachel made a small circle with her right index finger, and the contagiums leaned away from her as she passed. She’d have preferred to incinerate the damned things and, when she’d been a candidate for the Multitude, she would have. But she was allied with a different force now, one that didn’t believe in destruction, so she had to be a good girl and allow the ugly purple fuckers to live.
As she drew close to the building, she saw words painted in smaller letters beneath the business
She opened the door. It looked so old, she expected it to creak, but it opened soundlessly. She stepped inside and was immediately hit by the overwhelming smell of ancient decaying paper, the scent so strong it felt like she was inhaling time itself. The place was crammed with bookshelves placed so close together that there was only enough room for one person to move between them at a time, shuffling sideways. The shelves overflowed with reading material made from paper and vellum, parchment and cloth, wax and stone. No signs for sections, no labels on the shelves, nothing to help customers find whatever it was they were searching for. Most of the works here were written in languages other than English, some in languages foreign to this dimension. The place was poorly lit by bare low-watt bulbs on the ceiling, no doubt because the denizens of Shadow weren’t overly fond of light.
The interior was far larger than the exterior, and Rachel began making her way through the store, randomly touching books, scrolls, and tablets as she went. While all the works contained obscure and often forbidden knowledge, only a few of them exuded any actual power. But when her flesh came in contact with such works, she felt a jolt, as if she’d brushed her fingers against an exposed electrical wire. It felt good.
Rachel had never been here before, but she could sense that the true power of this place lay at its center, and she made her way through the maze of shelves toward her destination with unerring ease. She came across several browsing customers during her journey—none of whom appeared to be fully human—and moved awkwardly past them. Eventually, the bookshelves became farther apart, and finally she reached an open area containing a circular counter. A man stood behind an old-fashioned mechanical cash register, and he watched without expression as she approached. This was the Proprietor, who some called the Bookman. He appeared to be in his forties, wore glasses and a light blue long-sleeved shirt with a blue striped tie, and had a neatly groomed black mustache and goatee. He seemed normal enough, but a closer look at his eyes told a different story. At first, they were brown, but they soon changed, becoming cat’s eyes, and then they continued morphing every few seconds, shifting from cat to lizard, goat, fish, bird, insect, and then back to human … They continued changing like that, the pattern never varying.
Rachel smiled. “I like your eyes. All of them.”
The Proprietor inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“Were they always like that or is it an effect of reading so many esoteric books over the years?”
The Proprietor smiled. “A little from column A, a little from column B. How may I help you?”
The man seemed pleasant and professional, but Rachel could sense that he was on guard. She didn’t know what abilities he might possess, but it was clear that he recognized her as a potential threat. Good. This wouldn’t be any fun if it was too easy.
“I’m looking for something new to read that’s both challenging and transformative.”
“When you say transformative, do you mean physically, mentally, or spiritually?”
Rachel smiled. “A little from column A, a little from column B.”
The Proprietor reached below the counter, brought up a scroll, and placed it on the counter. It was made from human skin so soft and supple it might’ve been removed from its owner only a short time ago. No blood, though. Rachel supposed that was to keep the scroll from being too messy to handle.
“This is the Principles of Dissolution, one of the earliest works on Entropy ever written. Despite its … fresh appearance, it’s unbelievably ancient. Supposedly, it predates the birth of our universe, although I can’t personally confirm that.”
Rachel pressed an index finger to the scroll, and her mind was suddenly filled with a chorus of voices whispering dark words in an alien language. She withdrew her hand and the voices stopped.
“Intriguing, but I’m fairly well versed in Entropy. Do you have anything on interdimensional lynchpins?”
The Proprietor’s brow furrowed slightly. “That’s a very specialized subject. Few know the term and even fewer understand it.”
“I’m one of those few. Correct me if I’m wrong, but an interdimensional lynchpin is something—a person, object, or place—that is singular, but which exists simultaneously in all realities in the Omniverse. As their name implies, they bind dimensions and hold them together. They keep the Omniverse stable, and without them, all Existence would eventually fall apart.”
“That is the generally accepted definition,” the Proprietor said. The furrow in his brow deepened, and his voice held a hint of suspicion. “It’s quite an obscure subject. If you don’t mind me asking, why are you interested in it?”
“My interest is purely professional, I assure you. From what I understand, the Stygian Market is an interdimensional lynchpin, and so is this place.”
The Proprietor didn’t respond to this. His ever-changing eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward as if to get a better look at her.
“You’re one of the Multitude, aren’t you?” he asked.
“I was, or nearly so. I’m something different now. Why don’t you take a closer look?”
The Proprietor’s eyes began to change more swiftly until they became a blur of shifting shapes and colors. Then he gasped and drew back abruptly.
“You’re a … a Lightbringer.”
Rachel grinned. “I’ve only become one recently, but yes. I lied when I said I came here for reading material. Do you have any idea what I really want?”
The Proprietor held his hands palms out, as if he wanted to put some kind of barrier between them, however ineffectual.
“Don’t do this,” he said. “It would be catastrophic, and I’m not exaggerating.”
“I know you’re not. The Omniverse would sustain a serious wound if Tainted Pages were removed from it, but the dimensions would eventually recover. Maybe not all of them, but enough. But what if more than one lynchpin disappeared? For that matter, what if they all did?”
The Proprietor paled. “That doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“My new friends and I have done a lot more than think about it—we’re doing it. It was my idea, actually. Why they’d never thought of it in all the billions of years of their existence, I couldn’t tell you. I suppose that’s why they recruited me. New blood, fresh ideas. Right now, Lightbringers are swarming across the planet, removing every dimensional lynchpin they can find. I lived in Ash Creek for a time, so I asked if I could take out the lynchpins here, and my friends kindly agreed. I’ve already been to the Stygian Market, and let me tell you, that was a goddamned mouthful. I managed to choke it down, but after I finish with Tainted Pages, I’ll probably need to take a truckload of cosmic-strength antacids.” She burped softly as if to illustrate her point. “Excuse me.”
The Proprietor’s features hardened, and his tone was ice-cold.
“I will not allow you take my store.”
“And just how do you propose to stop me? I’m a Lightbringer, remember?”
She held up an index finger and the tip began to glow with intense white light.
“I’m not going to do anything,” the Proprietor. “But the store has a few ideas.”
The skin-scroll on the counter in front of Rachel unfurled and then leaped into the air and wrapped around her entire upper body, pinning her arms to her sides and covering her head. The skin sealed itself to her face, blocking her nostrils and mouth, making it impossible for her to breathe. Objects began slamming into her from all sides, some heavy, some less so, but their impact hurt like blazes. The scroll-skin was pressed tightly against her eyes, so she couldn’t see, but she had a good idea what was happening. Tablets, scrolls, and books were jumping off the shelves and flying through the air to pummel her. She did not hear any falling to the floor, so she imagined the objects swirling around her like a miniature tornado, taking turns hitting her. At that moment, she regretted recreating her corporeal form when she’d returned to Ash Creek. Physical bodies could be so ouchy.
