Suddenly a Succubus - Book Four
Copyright© 2025 by Nyx Nyghtingale
Chapter 46
nothing
rustling through the wind concrete clouds cold above is
wrong the shouldn’t the it all there flames drift cold the is trees the
air can’t billowing nobody but wind wrong in while
warm be and so the above wrong
magical why no because yelling the it shakes gone and
away pain ground is air sputtering are darkness the why air
dancing wrong shudders far
wrong the hurt air flickering the hurt is nothing too wrong sharp air wrong
nothing darkness worthless
they undone empty safety the nothing cannot
hear worthless darkness nothing
empty gone fear darkness safe nothing why
nobody worthless nothing failure
fear nothing darkness
nothingnothingnobodynothingworthlessnothingnothing
gone
Nothing.
Endless, empty, gasping, heaving nothing.
Surrounding, suffocating, freeing, eclipsing
nothing.
It is everywhere and nowhere; it does not stop or begin. It is me, and I am it.
I am nothing.
Peace, in nothing. It calms and soothes; it scatters the pain and destroys the suffering.
I see nothing. I hear nothing.
I am nothing.
Right?
That can’t be right.
If I am nothing, how can I think?
What was it that guy said?
I’m thinking, therefore ... I’m...
am-ing?
That doesn’t sound right.
But, if I’m not nothing...
what am I?
Shapes. Blurred together, a formless mass of half-present lines, but shapes nonetheless. Floating in and out of sight, separating into distinct masses.
What are they? They’re so far away. Can they be closer?
The world turned sideways, left-ways, right-ways, upside-down. The shapes spun and scattered and ran away and vanished.
wrong no air it hurts pain run the spinning escape
Stop.
When the shapes returned, they were larger. Lines more distinct, the formless mass condensing into rigid, shaking things. They were singular, multitudinous, fragile. Patterns formed, fractalizing out and out and out until they didn’t. Backwards, starting from the end, tracing the pattern down. Endless jagged lines met the bigger line, others of the sort combined then, over and over until the biggest line of them all stopped.
It stops on both ends. Why? What defines its beginning and its end? What separates it from nothing?
Another thing stopped the line. This hadn’t happened with the small ones. The new thing was not a line, it was ... all. It didn’t. But it had to. It was the top of the line, the thing that stopped, so what was it? Looking down, the mass of ever-shrinking lines reached out until they too became nothing, but not because of this other thing. Those lines stopped when there was nothing left, the big line stopped because there was something.
Looking closer, the big line had tiny lines on it, but they were different. Their pattern did not fractalize, it stuttered and skipped without rhyme and an idea appeared, unbidden.
Bark.
Meaning tied to the idea, it confessed purpose that lay beyond. The world froze, the lines blurred and scattered once more as the idea grew. It spun and whirred and clicked until the meaning compounded and brought with it association.
Tree. This is a tree.
Focus. Returning, the world sharpened and condensed until the thing, the tree, became whole again, but still it was wrong. It had a name, how could it be wrong? Did names not bestow purpose, meaning, significance? Could names be wrong? Return to the tree, examine it, find the source of the wrong and pick it apart. It fractalized out and down, the root of everything sitting high above before it met the everything nothing and stopped. That felt itchy. The idea there, that the root was above, that was the source of the wrong.
Trees don’t go down. But, if they don’t...
If they don’t, the problem is not the tree, it’s the world around it. I need to fix the rest of the world.
The tree didn’t need to become bigger anymore, but hadn’t the world spun left, right, up? Again. Again the world roiled and tipped and fell but the shapes, the tree, did not vanish this time. When the world stopped, the tree was right this time, and becoming right removed the itch. The clarity brought new ideas, and the ideas imprinted on the world to give it yet more purpose and more thoughts and more names.
Suddenly, shapes appeared everywhere. Different shapes with different ideas and different meaning and somehow it all made sense. How could it make sense?
Maybe the why doesn’t matter. Sense, reason, purpose, they all exist and I can imprint them on the things to understand them.
The world came into focus. What had previously been an ominous, endless ceiling was now the ground. It extended out in all directions, holding up not just a tree but dozens of trees, and in between the trees there was grass and dirt and in the dirt there were lines, sharp lines that brought ideas and meaning of their own and
WRONG BE IT CANT IT IS AIR STINGS ITS SHARP
RUN
Away from the lines, away from the wrong ideas that don’t belong. Away from the field and the grass and the dirt. Beyond the tree sat a new idea, one much larger than the trees that reached higher into the sky with slick, obtuse purpose. This idea felt familiar as well, and moving closer meant
Wait.
Moving. I can move. That means ... I’m here? I’m here but I can also be there, which is how things get bigger or smaller.
Which means I am. My absence from other places means I am; I exist here.
Moving again, towards the strange obtuse block that towered over the trees. It, like everything else, was made of hints and shadows with little else defining it. Once it was close enough, it became obvious that the side of this idea didn’t exist. Except it did. Whatever it was, things were visible on the other side of it, but tiny fractals of frost lingered on the edges of this thing-that-wasn’t-a-thing-but-also-was.
This is ... glass. A window. A thing that is a thing but also shows the things behind it.
Beyond the window, multitudinous shapes moved and shifted and rose and fell. Whatever was happening in there, it looked interesting. Despite the presence of the glass thing, the window, moving closer to the interesting shapes was easy. Passing into the building, a mass of new ideas now appeared.
Focus. Let the ideas propagate. Watch, learn, and just like the window, I can name these things. Whatever they are, they move in ways the trees and the windows don’t. Something about them feels familiar, though, as if...
People.
Humans, individuals, students, strangers.
Thoughts and ideas began appearing with more frequency. The surrounding world made more sense with each second that passed, which was an idea itself that brought excitement and recognition.
Time! Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, all of time so that people can name and organize!
The massive crowd of people slowly organized themselves, moving until they resembled the ticks of a clock. They shrank and (the word, there’s an idea for this and it is) sat down. All of them sitting, looking forward with their eyes and their heads. In front of all of them, another person continued standing and gestured with their arms. So many people, all in one place; it inspired exploration and curiosity.
All the people were unique, with different hair and eyes and clothes that sat on their bodies and made them look even more special and unique. Some of them gestured, raising the hands and moving their mouths, which appeared to be for its own sake. There used to be reason to mouth-moving (there had to be or they wouldn’t do it) but ideas weren’t appearing when it happened.
Time continued passing, the people all gesturing and mouth-moving when something happened that made them all look away from the standing person. Their eyes were wide, they leaned away with tension in their bodies and doesn’t that motion look like an idea?
Fear.
Following their eyes, reverse-engineering their body movements, it became obvious what the source of the fear was. Another person had jumped to their feet, and their hands were resting on the table, which had a large crack running down the center. This person was the most unique of all of them; not only was she wearing clothes but she had extra pieces on her. They weren’t arms or legs, they were small dark things that jutted from her head and sparkled and flickered. Her eyes were intense and angled and so much brighter than everyone else’s.
Why would they be afraid of this? This person is special and unique and so cool and they feel ... safe? Yes. Safe. Nice.
Another person reached out, grabbing the safe person’s arm before pulling her away. They left the building, everyone else watching until the two groups had separated. Staying felt pointless, why watch everyone else?
Following the safe person was easy, especially since she didn’t take a straight path. She needed to walk around other large shapes, walls and doors that impeded her progress. Moving was still awkward, shifting through the world required stiff and uncomfortable focus. While possible, the movement failed to track the path the safe person took, which meant passing through the walls and doors that the other people had to walk around.
I don’t feel a difference, though. Should I not be able to pass through things? Those people aren’t.
Continuing to watch these people only intensified the confusion. When they left the building, they sat on the ground and leaned against the walls, proving even more that these objects were not things that should be passed through.
Am I doing something wrong?
That idea feels familiar.
I’m wrong.
More watching. Time passed and passed and seconds became minutes became hours. Ideas turned and spun as the watching continued, with one thought crowding out all the others.
They interact with everything differently. They seem to notice things I don’t. They turn their heads when people move their mouths, they change their clothes when they’re inside buildings, as if the inside and the outside are different somehow.
At some point, the safe, nice person left the first building and walked away, with the second person following close behind.
Pause. Where were they going? There was so much other around them, how did they know where they wanted to be? Looking around, other ideas and thoughts and strange boxes of all shapes and sizes sat waiting.
They were all nearly eclipsed by the end. The nothing that sat between them all, behind and above and beside and in front of. It had no edges, no center, it was ever-present and infinite but also invisible and miniscule. It was a chasm of ideas, a thought that devoured all while demanding nothing.
It didn’t want absence, it was absence. Cavernous, infinite, nothing that sought only to grow and, by growing, shrink into obscurity.
The Void.
The end of everything and everyone it hungers for oblivion but its patience is eternal and it’s waiting for me to walk closer and to
No.
I want to see where the nice person goes. Why would I enter the Void?
The safe, nice, happy awesome person walked to a new place that was different, special, and being inside it made the nice person’s body more relaxed. She even changed her clothes to ones that were smaller, but the strangest thing of all was that another new part appeared on her body. This new part came from her back; it was long and powerful and so cool and it moved and tapped and curled around things.
I know this. This is familiar. She has arms and legs, yes, but also
(come on I know this)
horns! And a tail! And she can make dancing sparkling beautiful lights appear!
The dancing lights weren’t just on her fingers, either. They also appeared on the flat thing nearby, underneath a pile of stuff that she pulled from the big box with the door. Something about this felt familiar, what was it? More time passed, and the dancing lights began to change the small pieces over it, filling the air with more air. Thicker air? It wasn’t the wrong air, it was ... it was...
Hot!
Hot and cold! They keep things in the cold box before making it hot!
This was cooking, where food from the fridge changed state before their very eyes. It turned from something unwanted to yummy and delicious because they used fire.
How does the fire change things? It makes them hot, but ... what is hot? There was an idea for this, too, wasn’t there? It’s another sense, like how I can see what’s happening. Are there others? Senses? There must be, otherwise they wouldn’t cook the food, but why don’t I understand them? If I can see, why can’t I touch? Smell? Hear?
That’s it! The things I can’t do!
Can’t. Can not. That idea feels familiar too. Can I not feel those things because
I’m wrong?
That feels like it makes sense.
The meal continued, the nice person and her friend trading looks and making unheard noise with their mouths. This, too, felt both familiar and foreign.
More time, more seconds and minutes. The second person left. The nice person, alone, started moving the meal things from one place to another. Her tail, her awesome special cool amazing tail moved just as fast as her hands, picking things up and putting them in water and in the strange, small box underneath.
The small things, one of them was close. It was (liquid hot drinking careful) a mug, and it was so close to the edge of the surface.
Why can’t I touch too? The nice person can. She has hands and a tail, though, but I only have—
What do I have?
What am I?
Hands and arms feel familiar, but not the tail. Her tail is special and cool, it’s unique and only hers and that’s why she’s so awesome. I’m not her, but maybe I can look a little like her?
For the first time in (how long have I been?) ever, they looked down. If the people looked through the eyes on their heads, surely that meant the rest of their bodies were down, right? They tried to look down without spinning the world, and the vaguest suggestion of something awaited them.
Maybe that’s it! I just have to reach out and remember what touching feels like!
Part of them extended, reaching for the mug, and they filled their thoughts with purpose. Ideas of presence and affecting and pushing made them feel bold, daring, all sorts of new feelings that inspired tingly thoughts.
Their extension, their (can I say it?) hand touched the mug. It was solid! It was warm! They pushed harder, eager to assert themselves against the world, and the mug slid closer to the edge. Inch by inch, taking so much effort until finally it tipped over the edge and vanished from sight.
The nice person turned around, looking down at the mug that had just hit the floor.
I did that! That was me! I wonder if ... if I can...
oh
groaning painful spinning
exhausting why did touch
push back
Their hands rose to their head, the world retaliating with righteous fury for her having touched the mug. It was horrible, disorienting, whatever they were it felt like they were falling apart.
The Void would end this.
It waited. It always waited, just out of sight, just around the corner, always encompassing and eclipsing everything with its cavernous endless hunger and patience.
No pain no suffering no spinning exhausting pushback no judgement no hate no looks
No NO
NO!
I can’t become nothing yet, I don’t know what I am
The nice person can help, she’s special and unique and powerful and cool and maybe she knows what I am?
When the world returned, the space inside the space that held the nice person and her dishes, there were two of her. Was that possible? Can there be two of a person?
The second also had horns, a tail, big long (flappy flying spiky warm) wings and they were looking at each other from opposite sides of the space. Moving closer, looking closer, revealed they were not the same; one was older, with slightly different lines on her face.
The first one, the nice safe cool friend, suddenly rushed forward. Her eyes were sad, and wet like before appeared on her face but it meant something different this time.
Sad? That sounds appropriate, but why would she be sad?
The two of them fell to the floor, both sad together, then nothing happened. Not that nothing happened, there was stuff happening, not nothing, but they remained still and unmoving in the middle of the sad.
This wasn’t interesting, as cool as the tails and the horns and the wings were.
Maybe there’s more to watch. What about the other friend? The one that the nice safe friend made food for?
That friend had left and gone, but where? Surely there were more places than here and there, the other space with the many people. They had gone through many places to get here, right?
More movement, floating away from the first friend and through the
(blocking safety hard dry)
walls that separated the different spaces. So many different spaces and ideas but all so empty compared to the nice friend’s space. Were there other people? Where had the other friend gone?
More time, always time stretching out as spaces came and went. In between every space, behind amongst above below every space sat the Void, the infinite chasm that did not push but never hid. Ignore the Void, the Void was not them but it wanted them and their presence and their nothing because it too was nothing and it promised comfort and familiarity but the time was not now. Now it was time to find the other person.
How much time had passed?
Floating endlessly through the (comfort warm safe) homes that were all the same but also different until finally she appeared. The other friend! She had shorter hair, it was lighter than the other hair which was strange because shouldn’t there be more difference? Everything was so similar here, it was all the same but lighter and darker and some half-formed idea said this was wrong but how?
She sat on the floor, leaning against a wall just like earlier but now she was alone and without the nice safe friend. Alone she was different, her face made different movements and instead of wide and welcoming she was small and shaking. She held her legs close, squeezing them tight to become as small as possible and the shaking continued but why? There was so much space between this friend and the nice safe warm friend but they did the same things anyways?
Why were they so sad?
This one was also (sad wet hide alone) crying and kept crying for so long. Was there something they knew that was a secret that made them sad?
Could I figure out what it is? Maybe I need another sense, I made one earlier and it let me move the mug! Which got the attention of the safe friend! That has to be it, the secret they have that I don’t. This doesn’t feel like a touch secret. Something else.
The decision made, they looked back to the world and found the other friend in (comfort soft squishy) bed. She had moved, but the sad continued and she kept crying, but she wasn’t shaking anymore. Ideas of purpose returned, but this time the purpose wasn’t to touch it was to hear because the secret they all had was sound, it had to be. Sound didn’t come from hands, though, it came from the head, the ears.
Being here revealed the secret, the sheets rustling and the beeping from the walls but most importantly the other friend. She cried and sniffed and wept and under her breath she muttered something to herself.
“I miss you...”
That was a new idea. Miss. This idea was lonely, scared, frightened, but now they were confused. Missing required something, but what? People miss ... others. They miss people they like and when those people aren’t around they get sad. Maybe these people all miss the same person? Or each other? That had to be it, they were sad when not together.
But the safe friend was sad with another. They were sad together.
Huh.
The sound began to hurt, the world spinning and groaning and thrashing hurling skittering gnashing
horrible awful air sharp close no
no
NO
the Void can stop this the Void promises a blanket like the other friend has it releases frees embraces it knows the answer because the answer is nothing because that’s what I am
I’m
nothing
The spinning stopped and the horrible pain stopped with it. The Void was still present, hiding and alone and threatening but it waited because it was eternal. Now was not the time, there was still too much that didn’t make sense.
I still don’t know what I am.
Watching, waiting, this time they waited for others like how the Void waited for them. The other friend did nothing, however. When she finished crying she closed her eyes and just ... stopped. This too felt familiar, this was (tired comfy resting) sleep and they needed to do it for long stretches of time or else walking around was too tiring.
So they waited.
They watched as the people slept, moving to and fro and looking for interesting things to watch but there was so little happening at this time. Eventually all the people woke up and began walking around again. They followed the people, the crowds, watching and learning and seeing what everyone did. So many people, all doing different things, all of them using their senses so easily without any of the horrible terrible spinning pain.
It doesn’t hurt them because they’re not wrong. I hurt when I try to use my senses because
I’m wrong.
Time marched ever onwards, the people meeting in groups and talking and hugging and leaving. Not everyone cried when they left, in fact, very few people cried overall. The next interesting thing that happened was at a giant building filled with grass-that-wasn’t-grass. The safe friend and the other friend were here, walking through the strange powder on the ground as they made shapes and didn’t make shapes until they started to try something.
The safe friend made her extra pieces appear again, her tail and horns and wings and she ran forward. She jumped into the air, a look of determination on her face as her wings pushed her higher into the air.
Following them, curious, they watched as the cool safe friend winced and then fell. This, too, was an idea. The thought that not being on the ground was hard, and was something that only special cool safe friend could do. But she couldn’t? Thoughts crept in, ideas that this felt familiar for some reason; the idea that this friend could fly but also couldn’t fly and there were reasons but they were big and complicated.
But I can move everywhere I want. I can be near the ground and not near the ground and it all feels the same.
But I know why.
The world doesn’t affect me like it does them because
I’m wrong.
Ideas compounded and built and wove together and eventually the world made more sense. Being present still scared them, it always made the world harsh and painful, but at times the curiosity was too strong to ignore. Once, when everyone was sleeping and the world was quiet, they moved high above the buildings and the campus and were shocked at how much stuff they saw.
There was so much world!
A little too much, perhaps. The world was scary, the world came with ideas of strangers and judgement and fear and wouldn’t it be easier to just stay put? To stay where the friends were? The nice, safe friend and the other friend with the shorter lighter hair, yes, but they eventually discovered other friends.
One of them had the shortest hair of them all, but some of it was missing. This friend had drawn squiggly lines all over her head and, the coolest part of all, was that they glowed sometimes. The next time all the people came together, they actually decided to follow this person around, and that’s when they met the strange new people that were confusing and boring but also seemed to make the glowing friend sad. Not the crying lonely sad, but a different sad that made her not look at people and grow quiet and small.
These new people took the glowing friend and made her walk them around campus. They did so many cool things! They made circles appear from nothing and they made walls disappear! The coolest part was when they returned to the building that was next to the big field. They walked downstairs, made another wall vanish, and then talked near a big circle on the floor.
When the glowing friend walked onto the circle, she glowed again and then vanished completely! The idea got them so excited, they moved closer and stayed in the same place the glowing friend was.
Suddenly, the world changed. But it didn’t. It stayed the same, with the same shapes and lines and ideas, but now all the walls and people looked even more interesting. Seeing it now, for the first time, brought back memories of even more ideas, and they stared at the other people while they tried to figure out what they were seeing. The clothes these people wore, but also the people themselves, they were (bright vibrant fun interesting) colorful!
The entire world seemed to light up in this circle, there were colors and before they knew it, sounds were appearing as well, sounds that didn’t even make the world spin and shake and hurt.
The people spoke of gateways and bridges, but also of other circles that they seemed even more excited about. Would the other circles be like this one? Would they make the world more colorful and bring back the sound in a way that didn’t spin and hurt and confuse?
Following them was easy, as was following everyone. They needed to use stairs and hallways but they didn’t, they could freely float through the walls and the floors and go anywhere and see everything they wanted. The crowd of people, the mean ones that made the glowing friend sad, they got in an elevator and traveled down, down, down until arriving in a large, scary space with stains on the floors and the walls. There was another circle down here, yes, but it wasn’t like the circle above. It did not make the world brighter, but now that they’d seen it, they wanted more of it. For the first time in ages they thought of purpose again, they focused on sound and hearing and tried to extend themselves to listen to what it was the group of people were saying.
“—and regarding the repairs? Can these seals be restored or will we need to fully rebuild them from the bottom up?”
“Hm...”
“Elijah? Speak up, please.”
“Did you know that people bathing in Ancient Rome used to have their clothes stolen on a regular basis? They found these tablets that curse the thieves, see, and they’re shockingly common for—”
“The circles, Elijah. Please stay on task.”
“Right, sorry, the circles. I think we’ll be able to restore them, but we’ll need to run quite a few tests to determine which changes we’ll need to make.”
“And what if we wanted to alter their function?”
“I’m sorry?”
“We want to secure this place, obviously, but if we’re going to be connected to every other plane in existence ... I can’t help but wonder if we should take advantage of this opportunity.”
“I’m sorry, Headmistress, but ‘take advantage?’ What are you implying?”
“We have direct access to the entirety of existence, Palesa. Think of the good we could do if, instead of relying on standard runes, we took our magic from the planes themselves?”
“Surely you don’t mean—”