006. the lines between

[honkinbigteeth]

You find yourself in an enormous library, a place that seems more daunting than any library should be. The Lines Between is a book-made, spinning citadel in the center of an endless aurora borealis, moving cosmic lights out in all directions. Alongside you are your friends - Gerard, the ranger princess Rosamund, the puppet warlock Pinocchio, the clever cat Puss in Boots or Pib, the wielder of the magic book, Timothy Goose, who is your caretaker of sorts and who you call "Mother" as that's what all the children in the village always called him. You're joined as well by some new friends - two other book wielders from different realms, Scheherazade and Aesop. Scheherazade is flanked by the great sailor Sinbad and several of his crew and Aesop is joined by his animal friends, mouse and lion. This library is the place between your worlds, where your world, the Neverafter, meets Scheherazade's realm the Endless Nights and Aesop's Land of Birds and Beasts, and where your stories are written and preserved. You are being guided by the spirits of two librarians, Key and Legend, who tend to this library; they seem to know Aesop, so don't object to your sudden presence.

As you walk on a rampart, you can hear voices, almost like listening to a massive crowd from very far away. The voices aren't shouting, they're simply all speaking at once, and though you can't make out what's being said, it's beautiful and it's enrapturing.

"It is very serene out here on the ramparts," one of the librarians says. "You're admiring the Auroratory."

"Oratory," you say. "So...tales that aren't written down, but spoken?"

Legend seems almost defeated that you understood the pun immediately, and agrees. But you stop listening, because one voice rises about the cacophony. You recognize it immediately.

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Little Red Riding Hood," your grandmother says.

"Grandma?" You crane your wolf ears to try to hear her more clearly. You can't see her, or smell her, but that's definitely her voice. "Excuse me," you say, polite as ever, to the librarian. "My grandma is trapped out there."

And without giving it a second thought you jump off the rampart into the swirling aurora abyss to try to reach her, assuming for no reason that you'll simply be able to swim through the sky to get to her. Behind you, a bunch of your friends shout with dismay or alarm. But, actually, you find the air here is so dense that you really can swim, so you start to doggy paddle towards the voice.

"Grandma, I'm coming! Grandma!"

"It's completely safe," the librarians assure your friends behind you.

"Ylfa, did you know that was going to happen...?" calls Gerard, his tone indicating he's sure you had no idea it would be safe to simply jump into an endless abyss but did it anyway.

"No!" you assure him. But you do have to get to your grandma yesterday.

From behind you, you can hear the librarians continuing to talk to your friends, assuring them it's safe to swim in the Auroratory; it's simply a much older part of the realm than the citadel Lines Between. The stories in the Auroratory can come and go and change, where what's written in the Tower of Tales in ink stays.

You're a little bored, since you haven't found grandma, so you pretend you drowned. "Oh no. Someone help her," Mother Goose calls back, but you can tell from his tone he knows you're just playing and you haven't tricked him at all. Drat.

It's a bit like being in a placid lake; no tides or undertow. But as you play around, a beautiful spinning aurora starts to surround you, and you start to notice yourself getting further out, the citadel becoming smaller as you go.

"Okay, stay on focus, Ylfa," you say to yourself. "Grandma? Grandma?"

As you say that, you hear a voice again. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a cottage in the woods. Little Red Riding Hood, they called her."

You begin to realize that the light of the aurora itself is the source of the sound. The Auroratory is made of sounds and out here it takes the form of light as well. You can see in the light of the aurora the form of an old woman, a grandmother, and she's telling the story of Little Red Riding Hood. But it isn't your grandmother, just a grandmother. You can see and hear others, voices of grandmothers and elders, and they're telling your story but they aren't talking to you. It looks like they're talking to someone else you can't see.

You hear all of these voices, again and again, telling the story of Little Red Riding Hood. It's not told the exact same way in every voice, but it's similar every time. It's the story of a little girl who needed to bring food to her grandmother in the wood, who was instructed to stay on the path, and didn't, and met a wolf. And then they tell a story about how the little girl talked to the wolf, and that the wolf ran ahead to the grandmother's cottage, ate the grandmother, and the little girl arrived and said, my, what big eyes you have. My, what big ears you have. You hear all of these stories, and you also remember when all of these things happened to you.

And then the little girl says my, grandma, what big teeth you have. And in every story, all these stories that all begin to harmonize in the same moment, the wolf reacts. You hear the voices of thousands say, all at once, "The better to eat you with!" The voices begin to echo one after the other. The wolf opens his jaws to eat her, and the door flies open, and the door flies open, and the door flies open, and the woodsman came in and chopped the wolf and cut the grandmother out of the wolf's stomach, and all was well, and all was well, and all was well. And Little Red and her grandmother, the woodsman saved them.

But that isn't what happened. That isn't the way it happened for you. The wolf didn't eat you. The woodsman didn't come. You know what was inside the wolf's belly, and it wasn't your grandma, safe and alive. It was meat.

A wave of sorrow washes over you, listening to the echo of all of these different voices, so many reminding you of your grandma. And you stop swimming and close your eyes and just try to sink, because you feel like this is the better ending. This feels nice and warm, and it feels better to close your eyes and pretend this is the real story. You sink further and further down into the Auratory, listening to the version of your story that is being told the most.

So it must be the correct story, right? It must be what's supposed to happen. And maybe it's just that whatever was written in your book got it wrong, and if you can just get the story out here, a much nicer story where no one does anything they're ashamed of, into the books, maybe you'll become the correct version of yourself, too.

So you begin to try to start swimming back, but as the shame you feel for how wrong your story went builds up inside you, you see a trail of red light around you, almost like the tail of the comet, and as you try to move your hands to swim, you see ripples in the air colored red almost like blood or ink. And a horrible feeling comes over here that this is something you're doing. You're corrupting this story. Whatever happened in your version of the tale - maybe that was your fault. Maybe there's something wrong with you that caused all of these terrible, monstrous things to happen. And if you stay here in this warm, comforting, good place, you're just going to ruin it, too. You try to swim faster, but you seem to be caught in some kind of current and you can't get back.

You hear a voice telling another story, one about a little girl who went on a path into the woods and talked to a wolf, and at the end of the story the wolf eats her. That isn't your story, either, but it still seems better than yours. It's a story about a sweet little victim, one who didn't deserve any of the things that happened to her. Everyone loves an underdog, but you're a fucking actual dog.

As you struggle and cry, you can feel yourself sinking lower and farther away. You even think of the librarian saying how safe it was. If it was safe for them, why isn't it safe for you? You become certain and terrified that you are corrupting this place, that the things you did to become the way you are were evil and wrong, and the library is drowning you to protect itself from you. You can hear the tenor of the stories around you start to change.

You think about the Stepmother, the terrifying entity you met shortly before coming here. You looked at her and you knew there was something wrong about her, that she shouldn't exist. You looked at her and knew you were looking at something that was corrupting everything around her, that had gone very very wrong, and you were seeing something that shouldn't be seen. And then you watched, like you were in a nightmare, as from somewhere in you she pulled out the memory of your grandmother and she devoured her whole.

What you did, in your story, wasn't so different. You devoured something too, you became wrong, too. What you are and what the Stepmother is aren't different. You're both wrong and you shouldn't exist.

"Oh god, this is not how I want to be known. Please, know me like you were talking about me before." You keep sinking further, no matter how hard you try, and you don't want to drown here, not because you want to live but because you don't want to change these stories and do any more damage. But you don't know any way out, either.

So instead you cry out for help. "Timothy! Timothy! I'm stuck! Please, I need to get out of this! Someone! Excuse me, librarians? Your Auroratory is, I can't be in here!"

From far away, one of the librarians calls out - "It's perfectly safe! There's never a problem!"

"I'm the problem, and you need to get me out of here now! Please!"

You keep calling and calling, unaware that in the time you've been out here, Mother Goose has gone deeper into the library. You can't see that, or really see anyone. But after what feels like a long moment where you don't know if anyone will come help you, you feel a fluffy paw on your shoulder and look to see Pib, riding on Pinocchio like a life raft, flanked by ducks summoned by Rosamund.

You're shaking. "Get me out of here, get me out of here! I need to get out of here. I need to talk to the librarians. But most importantly, get me out of here so they stop saying - "

Pib is calm. "Okay, but you're going to have to help me out here. Getting into a boat at sea, always a tricky maneuver."

So you put one arm over Pinocchio like a life raft and carry Pib in your arms, letting the ducks carry all of you back towards the library. He's soft and fuzzy, and as you move, the story changes. The voices begin instead to tell the story of Puss in Boots, tales of the cleverness and heroism of that little cat, and as your story starts to fade away, you stop sinking, but you can feel that Pib is heavy.

And then in the image of light a beautiful wolf made of aurora appears as the voices say "once there was a wolf," and it nudges Pinocchio back to shore before it is consumed by fire and vanishes.

Safe on the rampart, you continue to shake and hold on to Pib. He looks up at you while giving you a comforting kitty hug. "I don't think I really understand what happened, but I'm sorry."

No no no," you say, urgently. "You guys came to save me, and we're getting out of here, and then things can go back as normal and we can fix what's going on down there, and what is below will reflect what is above, right?"

"I think that makes sense to me." Pib says, though it's not clear if he does understand.

"Pinocchio," you ask. "Before, when we saw your mom - " in no world is that thing, the Stepmother, actually Pinocchio's mom, but that's what he kept calling her and it seems like the only way to describe her without having to acknowledge how horrific she was - "Did you see her eat my grandma, too? Or was that just me?"

"No, I saw that," he says, reluctantly. So it wasn't just some kind of horrible vision. Or it was, because your grandmother was already dead by the time that happened, but it was more than just a vision for you.

"I saw a wolf get burned up just a second ago," Pib says. "I don't know if that was your friend?"

"I have a very complicated relationship with wolves," you say. "I don't know if that's been written all over my face."

"Yeah, it has," Pib says, gently. "I have a complicated relationship with wolves as well."

"I've got a complicated relationship with moms," Pinocchio volunteers. "Oh, we're talking about wolves. Never mind. I thought we were doing an empathy thing."

You appreciate Pinocchio, so you assure him. "No, I mean, that's valuable. I'll be honest, your stepmother sort of behaves like a wolf, because she consumes people."

"Hey, you know what?" Pinocchio says. "That was very kind."

"Thank you for saving me," you tell both of them. "Where's Mother?"

You look up as you ask to see Timothy and Scheherazade rushing back from within the citadel, having heard your voice. Timothy looks shaken, too, but seeing you're safe, begins to talk to the Librarians about what just happened.

You wait patiently for a break in the conversation for a good moment to interrupt the adults talking. "Yes, sorry for interrupting, but I need to see my book because I went out there. My story's correct out there, and I think that it's incorrect here, and so I think that if I could see my book..."

The librarians look wary. "Oh, so actually there's a policy of The Lines Between, we don't really let people see their own books, because seeing your book, it's not good for people."

"Okay..." you say, but you don't care if it's good for you. You need to see it.

Gerard gives you a significant look, and then turns to the librarians and pulls out his book of sword forms. "Actually, I have a lot more sword forms, if you'd like to hear about it."

"Oh my gosh, that's so interesting!" Timothy says, and Rosamund chimes in, asking to hear all about the sword forms, surrounding the two librarians a little bit, all of them trying to create a distraction if you need it, even though you're not sure you can really imagine stealing from a library.

But Pib is a bit more direct. "By the way, I just want you to know that I destroyed an evil crow that was here that was, I think, trying to attack your books and stuff." It was an evil crow that all of you brought here with you by accident, but Pib is a good liar. "So whatever, you know, I guess in some ways you might say that, you know, you owe me, so. Whatever makes sense for you to give to me."

"No, of course," the Librarian says, but they don't offer you your book, they remain cagey. "I know you have questions, and we respect that Mother Goose, Aesop, and Scheherazade are both storytellers and stories yourselves, and that's complicated. But this is as good a time as any to tell you that your realms, not only the version of the Neverafter that these versions of yourselves are from but indeed all the versions of your tales are in dire jeopardy. There are beings here who can help you, but the long and short of it is, a corruption has started, and we don't know if it originated here or in the Neverafter, but the realms closest to the Neverafter like Scheherazade's have been affected as well. But due to Aesop's judgment of reaching out to Scheherazade, we've sort of had a fighting chance to explain this to you. Essentially, lands of story move through phases, and it's complicated. Ink is permanent, asterisk." They say the word "asterisk" like they're putting quotes around it.

Timothy grabs them by the shoulders. "It doesn't matter if we're not real," he says intently.

"What?" The Librarian is confused. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know, but Scheherazade said it to me, and I think she's so fucking eloquent."

"Oh my," says Scheherazade. "Thank you, we're all trying."

But before any of you can sneak off or try to find your books, Aesop comes over to interrupt. You see on Aesop's face that he understands what you're trying to do, but he's a very moral person, and thinks what you're doing is lying and disrespecting your hosts.

"I think honesty is called for in this moment," he says, as Gerard's sword pipes up in loud agreement and starts singing about the virtues of telling the truth.

"That sword is the first authority figure I don't like," you say.

Pinocchio puts an arm around your shoulder. "I'll tell ya, you start hanging out with me, we'll get into some stuff."

"A little more honesty," Aesop clarifies. "I believe Mother Goose and Scheherazade may have seen something inside the Canonade. Mother Goose, what did you see?"

Scherazade looks pissed at him for just blurting that out.

But Mother Goose is a little haunted, as he has been since he returned, by something he saw there. "I saw the fountain of all of our being. I saw a giant glass, an inkwell, and I saw something inside that ink. And it saw me."

The librarians both look horrified.

"Something in the ink saw you?"

"Potentially multiple things," he says. "What was that?"

They look nervous. "We can debate whether or not the ink is our origin, but the versions of us here that walk in such known forms so crisply, preserved against the ravages of all the onces upon all of the times, originates from them."

"Does that ink have the power to rewrite things?" you wonder. "Or cross out things?"

"We mustn't tamper with the ink," the Librarian tells you seriously. "We mustn't interfere with it." They hesitate. "I heard you speak a moment ago about things being real. Obviously we are real. We are here speaking, talking. But some things are... realer in a way that it's hard to understand without starting to lose your sense of self. We call them... There's different names for them, some a little more frightening than others. We don't like to..."

They write a name on a piece of paper and hold it up. The paper says THE AUTHORS.

"This is the name we refer to them by, but we try not to even do that too often unless it's very necessary. But we know that there is something vast enough and powerful enough that it was the origin of The Lines Between, all of the staff, all of us who work here. They and they alone wield the power you saw within that room, which you should not have looked in and should not have gone. We call them by the name on this paper, but we dare not think of them for too long. The power they exert over our world is indescribable. But we also know that they don't care. They are not gods. They're bigger than that."

You see Scheherazade speaks up, and she's got a long, faraway look in her eyes as she says, "They're fine with all the bad things that have ever happened to us."

"We think there are perhaps many of them," one of the Librarians says, "but there are some truly great ones responsible for vast sections of the halls from which you originate. But there are different schools of thought. Some of the things in the books and pages may not have come from ink originally, they may have come from out there."

They gesture at the Auroratory.

This feels right to you. "Yeah, the Auroratory's good. It's really good stuff. It's really good. It's, right, it's correct."

Mother Goose frowns. "I'm just worried that, we're worried that bad things are happening to good people, but I'm worried that the reason that bad things happen to good people is because it's a good story. And there's nothing we can do about that?"

"So ink is permanent, asterisk," the Librarian says again. "In the case of the Neverafter and other such realms, the power of the ink can sometimes be accessed in proxy. Many beings of these worlds weird magic, which is the ability for the characters of these stories to move their stories in the deserable direction, to make a curse where a curse needs to happen for whatever they might want, or to come and make a blessing happen so that some great obstacle might be removed. That magic flows through many creatures naturally who have a closeness to that power. But sometimes,there have been some indication that there have been revisions. We don't have any record of that, but the realms of your stories change. There's a time of shadow moving upon the Neverafter, but times of shadow and times of plenty are cyclical. Stories begin and end and begin again. But the shadow has been ascendant in the Neverafter for far too long, and we don't know why, and it's bad, and it's leaking here and something terrible is happening."

"We think..." They look at each other nervously. "We think there may be something hiding in here that doesn't belong, and we can't find it."