• There was a time and a place for everything, something that he understood. The escape is what I need. Just for a little while. The Earth is bearing down on me, that one small planet out of the billions that are out there. I have seen all that that planet has to offer to me. Just for a little while, I want to go somewhere else. I want to go somewhere where no one knows me. he thought to himself as he stared down at the book, watching as the black ink ran together, swam in front of his eyes, there would be no escape into that other literature world for him that night.

    His life on earth was mundane at best. He reached into the back pocket of his dress slacks and pulled out his wallet, his thumb smoothing over the worn black leather till he could flick it open and stare down at the picture that was inside. From the fading matte picture he looked down at the people that were the closest to his family. There were twelve people, eleven men and a petite girl. All save for the girl had a black brand on one side of their face, but they all had different coloring, different hairstyles, but one thing was the same for all of them, they all had Golden eyes.

    “The mark of the Warrior Phoenixes.” He whispered, his ageless eyes moving over the picture. Three of the men in the picture had died; one had his soul forever entrapped in the earth. “Damn you Pantheras.” He growled before he tossed the picture away from him, watching as it fluttered down and hit the floor, shadows encroaching on the image till the faces blurred together. His best friend, the leader of the Warrior Phoenixes and the Tenebrae was the reason why he needed to leave. Not forever, just long enough to get some of the stress off of his body.

    The Vaitash Cure had finally reared its ugly head and there was nothing that he could do besides watch. He prayed for the first time since his exile, prayed that his friend would be saved. It was when a man aptly named Mercy had discovered the cure, but by that time, it had already taken the proud man’s legs. Everything that he had worked for had to be turned over to someone else, he had to be taken to an alternate realm where the stress wouldn’t mount and undo all the work that they had done.

    There was a place, far away and it spoke to him. He didn’t know why but he was being called to a place of marble and silence, a place that there held nothing beyond books. He could do nothing else. He already had the ticket for a Roscurian that would get him to that place. All it took was a bracelet with the proper code, the key to jumping ‘lines was having the location point in his place of destination.

    At his arrival he took a step inside and looked around. It was the planet Mesta, a planet which was only a library; there were no other businesses on the planet, nothing but the Universe’s largest library. It was there that a man strode in, passing creatures that looked like him but were far stronger, other beings that looked nothing like him and he even moved past creatures that he couldn’t see but that he just had the innate sense that there were there, watching him, mistrusting him because of who he was.
    Brother-killer

    Even five galaxies away from the planet that was ruled by the Alien named God, other beings knew who he was by sight and they pulled their children far from him, whispered to them that he was the Marked One. He had broken an Inter-Galactic law back when the planet was still new, back when there had been visitors walking around by God’s will and they had witnessed what had transpired between he and his brother, Julean. God had been so angered by what had happened in front of his Guests that he made the first born son of Adam become one that was Marked. Forever cursed to walk the worlds, forever looking for a respite, somewhere where he could fit in and the ground that he had once cultivated, the vegetables and fruit that he had grown would now poison.

    His only act of Mercy was to make it so he would be allowed to eat the fruits and vegetables.

    Earth had long since stopped being a place where he could wander. Humans noticed when he didn’t age but since they were still so young by so many standards, they feared him, hated him and would have tried to kill him. Yet it was because of humans that he had learned that his heart could stop beating, that his head could be severed, he could be starved and drowned and every time, he would heal and he would be forced to get up and walk away. He wasn’t allowed into the Alternate Realm where all souls go. The concept of Hell was a false one, while there was a Hell; it was ran by God’s brother, not something that he had created.

    The Greeks had been closer to the truth than the Christians but at least the Christians had understood that it was right to fear the invisible force that had created them and then left to go and play dice. It was his fifth time that he had died and had been brought back a moment later with the same body, the un-aging flesh, the grey eyes and the damnable sharp teeth. He was a true carnivore, and with his red hair and the Mark tattooed onto his shoulder, he was given a wide berth and sneering looks. Only on Earth and similar child planets did father kill son, brother kill brother. War was still around granted, but family ties were the strongest things possible, there was nothing stronger to any race but family.

    He had seen the wars on Earth, the horrible bloodshed that caused the earth to rebel, to cause fire to spew forth from the Earth and hail to fall from the sky. He had seen that, and then he had found another creature, his name had been Alecuian; he had been what humans had named a Phoenix. From 1899 onward, both men had waited and watched. The Marked One had watched as Alecuian grew more and more power hungry; grew angry about how the Humans were running the planet and he took control, finally growing into himself and finally pulling himself from the Humans to create a new Race, a new Creation that had no tie to God since they had Created themselves.

    The new leaders were called the Tetragrammaton.

    The four words for God, and one man that arched over them all. A man named Swain.
    They were Godless and the two branches of the Phoenixes took pride in that. It was Alecuian who had given the Marked one a new name. Brice. It meant nothing more than ‘Speckled’, a reference to his colored past. It was before the start of the Last Human war, it was during the war that he finally found some sort of purpose. He had worked, slaved over finding a cure for the Vaitash Disease but once he was on the cusp of discovery, it had been his young friend, Electrite Mercy, who had been able to see what none of them had and the cure, years later was finally rendering the disease to be something that could at least be controlled, foreseen.

    It was how he had arrived at Mesta, stepping off of the teleporter and walking inside. From the relative heat from the arid desert air outside into the temperature controlled building, he was immediately at ease. Books didn’t judge but they did remember every single person that had ever read from them. He walked down the many aisles, knowing that people could come every day for their entire lives and never see the entire library. Books were obsolete by then but there were still people that craved to be able to hold a book in their hands, to read it and put it away, knowing that it will be there for them again. Books held memories of each and every reader, and there were stories within stories that only the most experienced reader could pick up.

    Brice…come.

    He stilled, pausing before he turned around and his eyes narrowed at the words.

    Cain, come gather and read our books. We’ll give you what you seek. They promised from miles down.

    He looked around, the elegant shelves holding books tenderly, the lights dimmed low, some people even donned face masks so that their breath wouldn’t cause any damage. He walked, and walked, the books that he was seeking was far down, he didn’t know what he was looking for, not until his eyes landed on them. Simple leather bound books with no title were left hap-hazardly on a table, a book left open face down and he sighed as he moved over to right it and the moment he touched it, he wasn’t able to let it go.

    Cain, cursed for eternity…we’ll give you knowledge, we’ll give you permission to forget about the time that plagues you. The book whispered straight to his mind and he settled down at the table and started to read. His eyes flickered over the page before turning to the next, the words started to bleed off the page and travel up his arms, running up his face like backwards tears before they were absorbed right into his mind. He put one book down when he was finished and picked up another, his hand running over the cover before he opened it and continued to read, and like the book previously, the words ran off the page and into his mind.

    Book after book, he’d finish one and pick up another, he never stopped to drink or eat, never stopped to sleep, he only read. When one stack was finished, he’d turn to find new books, still bound but in varying colors and weights as the time went on and he’d start all over again. An indeterminate time later, he looked up and around nothing that the library was plunged in darkness, strange for the library was reputed to always stay illuminated. He stood up before he fell over and landed heavily on his side, his muscles were weak from lack of use, only after he forced himself up, he looked down at the table and saw stacks, hundreds upon thousands of blank paged books, their pages yellowed, tossed carelessly on the ground. He turned around and saw that the aisles were the same way, some books remained but others were blank. He wandered from the table, leaning on the shelves as he walked and everywhere he moved, more books were in front of him, cast down by his feet. Books from Earth, from Mesta, from Eden, books from planets that he had never heard of, books written in languages that he had never seen yet could somehow understand. He broke from the aisles finally and stood in the center of the library, looking around as dust and grime coated the once pristine and beautiful library.

    He stumbled to the main desk, his body not obeying as it once had, and he saw that there was no one located there, there was nothing. He shoved himself away feebly as he slowly, decrepitedly walked towards the transporter and took a hold of the bracelet before he wrapped it around a wrist and saw in horror that the bracelet was much too big for the then skeletal arm. “O-one.” He coughed and his voice faded, that did not sound like his voice, it was much too hoarse, too thick. “One…traveler to coordinates 5602513-19Fox. Earth.” He commanded before thankfully, he was transported away. The transporter ran off of solar power and the planet had enough in reserves to send one man back to Earth. Once there, he kept the bracelet on as he walked out of the empty hotel room that he had been teleported into and finally caught sight of himself in the mirror. he still stood tall and strong, part of his curse, long red hair fell around him to his waist, and where his eyes had once been grey, they were now black, black from the knowledge that he was given. He looked down at his wrists before he looked back up at the mirror and leaned in closer. Where red had used to run through his veins his blood was then black, he couldn’t die, what did it matter? He was no longer human but something else, not quite Godless.

    Who are you? It sounded like the petulant voice of a child demanding knowledge, and it wasn’t his own. He parted his lips, testing his own voice but more questions came, till he was forced to stumble back and cover his ears as if it could block out the sound.

    “Parasite!” He groaned as the foreign voice eased, though the feeling of curiosity was still there.

    Not Parasite…Shakespeare.

    He laughed humorlessly, some of his sordid humor returning. He knew what the creature was, it was something that was far older than himself but yet in mentality he was far too young. “Wyatt…I am not calling a parasite Shakespeare.” He spoke out loud, though he knew through government documents that it wasn’t needed. All of the creatures from that race had a different talent. “Books, great.” He muttered, realizing that his parasite had the ability to read and take the memories from books. With the memory would come the words. “I’m going to have a smart a** parasite.”

    Papa?

    “Brice.” He growled, shying away from the world.

    Papa.

    “Great.”

    He was Brice Wyatt Avarice, he was Timeless, Ancient and held all the knowledge of the universe (or at least most of it) within his mind. He had waited for someone when there was no one for him, and so he would shun intimate company. He reached out and picked up the phone before he dialed a number that was much too long before he put it to his ear. “Pantheras…I’m home…and apparently I have another son. His name is Wyatt and, he came out of a book.”

    He paused, his black eyes closing as a tight smirk crossed his face. “I found him in a library, he doesn’t have a form yet…but give him a few days. And, we’re coming to visit, so shift over your lover, and make up a guest room. I don’t plan on moving out, after all I’m still your doctor.”