Depression Averted

A grisly beauty

From the journal of Jack Valentino

I’ve given up on attempting to keep track of dates. It seems that we are to travel from world to world for some time to come. As such, it seems a moot point to think of the local time when it has been made painfully clear that time is an irrelevant concept when comparing one world to the other. So, I’ve given up. It is with great trepidation that I do so. I had attempted to keep these entries in some kind of order but, as I explained, that seems to be a fool’s errand. To make matters worse, I’m having difficulty locating my previous journal.

So, I will attempt to sum up my experience so far.

My name is Jack Valentino. I know this but, I don’t really remember much else. I know that I have certain unpleasant skills. I utilized those skills without concern for the next day’s consequences for some time before I was recruited. I was recruited by a group called the Secret Service. A group that extends back to the 1860s as far as I can tell. From what I am told and what I’ve pieced together, the group’s genesis was as some sort of secret arm of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. The Pinkertons became U.S. Marshalls and the secret service split off from the government entirely and went deeper underground.

That brings me to myself. Somehow, I am able to affect certain things. Chaos, I suppose. I’ve used it to manipulate probability in my favor. I’ve used it to cause a man’s clothing to fall into disarray. It wasted away as if hit by centuries in seconds. I even found that I held the ability to affect the special abilities of others. Anomalous abilities? Either way, the supernal has become part of my life. I’ve come to accept it without question. I have wrestled with things that looked like biblical angels and had my mind invaded by a strange woman. I have seen things that leave the supernatural question pointless. The supernatural is real. I have lived it. I am living it.

As an example, I am currently writing this from within my private bedroom within a pocket world. My companion, Victoria can open doors to other places. Places that don’t connect in any normal way. She has created a small place that as far as I can tell is a construct of her own mind. So, I theorize that when we cross the threshold of that doorway, we in fact cross into her own mind. As such, I treat my surroundings respectfully. This is a place that should not exist and yet does. A solipsistic world where I believe it to be because otherwise would deny my own senses. Yet, here I am, sitting in this plush, high-backed armchair across from a roaring fireplace scrawling into this journal as if to make sure it is all real.

Currently, we are in a world that we have taken to calling Zyphr. This is the home world of the angels that I spoke of. I first officially encountered them when they invaded another world called Terra. The angels are like locusts. They consume the essence of a world and leave it to collapse upon itself. We battled them across the entire world of Terra and in the end, we were victorious. The cost of that victory was immense, however. The destruction and loss of life were the likes that I have never seen, nor heard of. Massive cities, struck down to rubble. Children crying in the streets. The aftermath was disgusting. Yet we were lauded as heroes. The loss could have been worse, I suppose.

I have discovered the reason that the angels consume worlds. They do it to keep their own dying world from sliding into oblivion. This world is one of miraculous beauty that hides a terrible evil. The people here wield a force that can only be described as magic. They do so casually and without concern. They rely on magic so heavily that when Victoria and I completed a painting by hand for our hosts, they acted as if what we had done was miraculous. They live with miracles every day and have grown accustomed to them to the extent that the commonplace is a miracle to them.

I will write more as I get a chance to. For now, know that I plan on assisting this world in getting a merciful death. I hope to help the people migrate elsewhere and then allow this world to actually die. It is like a mortally injured animal bleeding to death but forced to stay alive.

This world desires death. I am committed to helping it.

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