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[u][b]Jailbreak In Fairyland II[/b][/u][/center]
[sub]Somewhere In Faerie[/sub]
[sub][sub][hr][/sub][/sub][indent][indent][color=lightgray]In Zatanna’s dreams, Gotham isn’t dying, it’s already dead. The city had become a Venice of corpses, as seas of bodies fill the spaces where asphalt and street corners once stood. Above these pathways sprouting amongst the skyscrapers were blooming cancerous growths creating a canopy of blood as veins of raw flesh raced across the open sky connecting them together. Crawling atop these veins and picking through the corpses that swallowed up the ground were strange abominations of decay similar to the flesh elemental that had attacked her in her home.  They squabble amongst themselves snarling and slashing outward at one another fighting over treasures like a particular well intact femur bone. But beyond these strange mockeries of flesh, there were no other signs of life as even the scavengers and carrion eaters, the corvids and the cockroaches couldn’t escape their fate.

What was once Robinson Park served as the tabernacle to this temple of decay. In mockery to the green and beauty that once stood there was a  great mass of flesh and tentacles. The mass ever so often pulsated like a beating heart as blood dripped from its folds. It was similar to the much smaller car-sized growths that were emerging from the skyscrapers as if they were merely extensions of this much larger abomination. The blood-stained veins emerging from their flesh all leading back and sinking themselves amongst the flesh. A sea of eyes swam across its body each individual pupil, bright orange in color almost like the embers of a flame, each larger than a house.

Forced to reckon with this creature Zatanna immediately felt very insignificant. This feeling reminded her of reading a book about tsunami survivors in Indonesia. In each of their stories, there was a common linking thread, a feeling that could only be described as a powerful mixture of awe and fear as the ocean pulled away only to come back as a singular towering wall of water. The great mysterium tremendum to be forced to reckon with something so beyond yourself, so [i]immensely[/i] more than you could ever be that it might as well be divine in nature. But where those tsunami survivors had to contemplate their insignificance in the face power of mother nature, staring into one of those ember eyes Zatanna could only witness life’s meaningless struggle against the inevitable that was rot and decay. And as she stared into the eye, a voice louder than creation itself filled her mind with a singular word.

[h3][b]C̸̭͈̎ͅo̶͍͗̓n̵̠͑͊̕s̶̨̩̍͌ͅȗ̴͖m̴̝̊́ẻ̵̬[/b][/h3]

Zatanna shouted as she opened her eyes shot open. Her breath came in quick short bursts, heart thundering in her chest as she looked around the train cabin. Thankfully most of the other occupants had moved on or otherwise were preoccupied with their own business to notice her outburst. Atop the mahogany table of her booth was simple white teacup etched with blue flowers atop of a matching saucer, the sharp smell of citrus drifting upwards from the mostly filled cup. Across the way from the cup sitting in the booth’s opposite bench was Doctor Voodoo, peering over at her quizzically from beyond the edge of his book. Zatanna felt her embarrassment override her fear as her face flushed, trying to act cool she reached for her tea. Yet her shaking hands betrayed her as the hot liquid spilled across the table.

“Dammit!” She cursed before pointing at the spilled liquid and commanding softly “yrd”  

As the liquid was magically pulled away from the table,  Voodoo put his book down on his lap and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Are you okay timoun?” 

Zatanna exhaled for a long time as she placed the now empty teacup back on the table. She looked down at the table running her finger along the grain of the now dried wood. “Yeah, I just had a bad dream that’s all.”

Voodoo cocked a brow “There is significance in dreams. If you ever want to talk about it...”

“It was nothing, it’s just been a crazy couple of days”  Zatanna replied shaking her head. “Are we there yet?”

Thankfully Voodoo had enough social graces to take her prompt to change the subject and gestured towards the window. 

“Take a look for yourself.”

Zatanna couldn’t help but gasp as she leaned closer into the window. 

The train rolled across a landscape that defied explanation. Primeval forests stretched across the horizon their towering trunks stretching into the sky as their leaves were caught in brilliant shades of red and orange so much that from a distance it looked like the entire canopy was consumed in an almighty wildfire. On the horizon beyond the forest's rose jagged mountain peaks that looked like they were constructed from half-gnarled bone. Great churning rivers that sparkled like a diamond catching the sun ran down from their ashen peaks, cutting great paths through the forest as they ran towards an ink-black sea. Bunched together like islands upon the sea of black were the towering masts of ships from nearly every age in history, lost in great storms and having been swept away to foreign shores. 

And as the train rolled across this landscape suspended on an adequate like track above the ground, the primeval forest gave way to signs of civilization. Writhing trunks gave way to strictly organized developments of farmland.  The crops that grew upon these organized sections of land were unlike anything Zatanna had ever seen before. They rejected any formal understanding of color, shape, or size, one batch that caught Zatanna’s eyes being an orchid of trees that opposed to growing fruits upon their branches instead grew severed arms. These groupings of strange and disturbing vegetation were planted around sprawling Edwardian era estates that Zatanna could estimate were each roughly the size of a Gotham city block in length. Some looked freshly painted and new as if they had been built yesterday, while others looked long abandoned and overrun as foliage and veins broke through shattered glass and crumbling walls.

And finally, even the farmland was replaced with a different concrete kind of jungle. The country environment giving way to an urban sprawl thick with artificially bent metal. The cityscapes were in some ways even more breathtaking than nature’s vistas. As huge sprawling towers made of shimmering glass rose skyward. Compared to the order and structure present in the farm plots, the planning for the cities seemed like a haphazard afterthought, but still somehow managed to find its order in the chaos. Buildings twisted and embraced one another, weaving in and out like one knotted mas. Streets varied from straight lines to at some points rising directly upward at perfect ninety-degree angles with no means of getting up them. All the while amongst these wandering streets, these dense and chaotic urban spaces never seemed to lose their connection to nature as next to the rising towers of glass were equal tall trees that seemed to serve the same purpose and large overrun parks and gardens dominated any open space.

Zatanna didn’t know what to expect from Faerie. The children’s tales and old legends described a world of idealized wonder. In a way they were right, the world outside her window could indeed be described as wondrous for the sheer strangeness of it all. The bizarre mismatched cohesion of colors, shapes, and architecture, unlike anything you would ever see in the Mundane. There was no unity of style or presentation as towering castles stood next to simple huts. And to make matters worse even as Zatanna watched entire sections of the city began to reconfigured themselves. Some of the buildings crumbled to the ground to be replaced with entirely different structures within the blink of an eye, while others just grew or shrank in size or even just a simple change in the style of the front door. The whole effect preventing Zatanna from ever really getting comfortable with the cityscape in front of her.

Eventually, the train pulled to a stop. Other passengers began to rise from their seats and prepare to depart. Pulling away from the window, Zatanna looked over at Voodoo who had at this point deconjured his book and began to rise from his seat. The bizarre landscape only made Zatanna more eager to go out and explore. It was one of the reasons she didn’t mind going on tour as much as other performers - the overwhelming desire to get lost in a place that was unfamiliar to her.   

“Word of warning,” Started Voodoo as Zatanna rose to her feet “the Fae do not follow our conventional sense of morality. They are like children with a magnifying glass and we are the anthill, they act on impulse alone.”

“That’s lovely, I always hated children.” 

They exited the train onto a wide platform. The surrounding building was a large dome-like structure, brilliant mosaics cast across the inside like the interior of some old Byzantine church. Everything was cast in a pallet that to Zatanna’s eyes seemed to be exclusively cast in shades of bronze and gold. Statues of colossal winged knights lined the dome’s perimeter their arms raised upward as if they were holding the weight of the dome above them. Passengers moved up and down the platform, some towards one of the many exits that lead out of the dome, others aiming to catch the train on its return trip. The platform was one of at least a dozen all performing the same ritual of embarkment and disembarkment.

Approaching them on the platform was a strange figure. He was dressed in what Zatanna could only imagine a knightly squire may have looked like. A loose white long-sleeved shirt tucked into a pair of brown sackcloth pants that half-covered a pair of bare feet dusted with hair. As the stranger approached a half-grin hanged easily on his face. He appeared young barely more than a boy with his auburn hair burst up from his head like wildfire. And yet even as his gray eyes sparkled, the carried a weight to them that rivaled Voodoo. 

“Mister Drumm and Miss Zatara, I presume?” The stranger asked stopping in front of them.

“What you know who we are?”  questioned Zatanna

The Stranger chuckled, “Of course we do! You are our honored guests after all.” 

“Honored... guests?”

“Why yes! It isn’t often that two powerful magic users from the Mundane come to visit us.”

“Well then guide,” Voodoo his voice tired and laced with impatience “do you mind leading us to the Palace? We have important business to discuss with your  Queen.”

“Right away sir!” The guide replied with a small bow before turning around and heading in the opposite direction. 

The guide led them out of the dome and into the city proper. If the city was breathtaking from the window of the train, it was even more so being inside of it. Life seemed to almost overflow in the nooks and crannies between the towers of sculpted metal. Tantalizing smells attempted to drift Zatanna of course as numerous street vendors cooked up meals in cobbled-together hutches thrown together on the sidewalk. The sound of them and other vendors peddling their wares filled the air, a rising chorus of strange voices competing over one another to be heard. Unlike in a city in the Mundane, these voices did not have to compete with the roar of cars. The streets instead were filled with mostly pedestrian traffic and the rarer horse-drawn carriage. 

One such vehicle parting the road as the group navigated the streets. It was a large black carriage the curtains on its windows tightly drawn blocking the curious gaze of any onlooker. Zatanna nearly was sent tumbling to the ground as the panicked crowd pushed towards the side of the street to avoid the thundering hooves of the horses that pulled it along, the driver seemingly unwilling to slow down to give pedestrians in front of the carriage time to get out of the way.  Yet Zatanna wasn’t struck by this blatant disregard to safety as the four skeletal steeds that pulled the carriage. Boney hooves slammed against the dirt of the road leaving a chill in the air and frost covered impressions in their wake. A shiver running down Zatanna’s spine as they passed like a gust of wind on a cold winter’s morning had just blown by. 

Their guide who had been less fortunate in avoiding being knocked over was a few feet ahead of Zatanna catching his breath as he rested on his knees. Dirt was now caked into the white cotton of his shirt and on smudged streaks across his arms and face. As Zatanna reached him she bent over and extended a hand to help him up. The surprise on his face was palpable but he nodded his head in thanks and accepted her help. Standing he scratched at his bramble of red hair with a thankful smile on his face. 

“Thank you kindly miss” He added as he began to try and wipe away the dirt stains on his shirt.

“Here, I can help you with that” Zatanna offered gesturing towards the stain. “Naelc” 

The guide looked down in amazement as the stains upon his body and clothing began to fade away as they seeped into flesh and fabric before vanishing altogether. 

“That’s two favors you’ve done me now...We should get moving because soon I’m going to owe you a blood debt!”  

“A blood debt?!” Zatanna asked startled as she chased after him. She turned towards Voodoo for assistance but the older magician’s face gave nothing away. “There is honestly no need! I just saw that I could help!” 

“Help for the sake of helping? You sure are a strange one!” 

The guide called back incredulously as he guided them down a, particularly narrow street. The buildings on either side of the road growing closer and closer to one another as if the entire street came together at a fine point. Their passage became dark and almost tunnel-like as the roofs on either side began to overlap with one another, blocking out the sun above. As space grew smaller and smaller, Zatanna was forced to pivot herself sideways to navigate through the crack, the much broader and muscular Voodoo having to push himself flat against the wall and inch forward like he was navigating a ledge. The end came with its own sense of panic, by that point Zatanna was submerged entirely in darkness, the only sounds being her companions breathing and the shifting of clothes against the bricks of the building. Zatanna was certain that she was stuck, but finally, with enough struggling, she came free and came out into the brightness on the other side

The funnel had emptied them out into a new area within the city. The cramped dirt streets replaced with paved, broad promenades lined with trees and statuary in sharp contrast to the squabbling vendors. What struck Zatanna most though was the quiet.  The crowds that had existed only moments earlier had vanished. Instead, the citizens here moved in small and quiet groups of three to four. They were just as strange as their more rambunctious cousins, dressed in a strange amalgamation of aristocratic dress from throughout history. They walked at perfectly controlled paces, not slow enough to be considered dawdling and not fast enough to be described as brisk, taking a painfully calculated amount of time to regard the flora and statuary as if following a choreographic routine. Zatanna for her part then felt a drunken fan storming the stage disrupting this perfectly sculpted flow. Zatanna put her head down to block the gazes of intrigue and contempt that had been immediately thrown their way.

Thankfully the guide also seemed bothered by the attention and began to pick up the pace. He lead them through a winding path through the district. They quickly pulled off the main promenade, guiding them through abandoned side streets and alleyways that made untrodden paths between the walled off-estates towering in their austerity. Beyond the occasional groundskeeper tending to the strange multi-colored flora on their grounds, Zatanna saw little in the way of movement. Curiously as she peered at that passing buildings more and more, she began to notice a strange thing, those occasional lonesome groundskeepers were the only moving things, it was as if time itself had been frozen, ensnared in some kind of protective enchantment around the walls. 

As she tried to wrap her head around the sheer amount of magical energy needed to perform, emerging from another alleyway they reached what Zatanna could only assume was their destination. A grand castle-like structure sat floating at the center of a sea of twilight. It looked like something out of a dream, created from a perfect blending of artistic vision and engineering talent, the artistic skill and talent of something like Michelangelo’s David combined with the sheer engineering might of the Burj Khalifa. A single tremendously long bridge stretching across an open void of purples, pinks, blues, and reds sat at the center of the city as if an artist had punched a hole in reality’s very fabric. 

As they approached the bridge their guide stopped.

“Well, this is as far as I take you.” 

“Thank you again,” Voodoo responded and Zatanna nodded her head in approval.

“Think nothing of  it’s my task after all!”   

And with a small wave, the guide left the duo alone disappearing back amongst the shadows of the buildings.

The pair looked at one another before taking their first steps on the bridge.  The long crossing lent itself kindly to contemplation and roughly halfway across the bridge, something dawned upon Zatanna.

“He never gave us his name?”

“Who?”

“The guide!”

“He didn’t have one.”

“What?”

Voodoo sighed

“Names are very important here. In a world such as this, a world driven by fanciful whims and desires, in constant flux, because the mold has never had a chance to set there is a kind of holiness to those things that are granted permanence. Names are one such thing. They may change yes and titles may be added or removed, but at their heart, they serve as identifiers of the self. The name that you choose to carry comes to leave its mark on you, it becomes a part of you that cannot be removed. By taking on a name, you gain power over the flux, over the change, you become a rock upon which the river most divert itself.  And so such powerful liberties are only awarded to the highborne.”

“That’s terrible...” Zatanna whispered 

“To us,” Voodoo offered “we see it as a dehumanizing act, a purposeful erasure of identity. For them, this has always been this way. It is not like those with power are taking away something that they already had. We ourselves would think it's ridiculous if there was outrage over a dog’s inability to use the postal service.”

“I guess,” Zatanna relented “it’s just still no excuse y’know? If we see injustice don’t we have an obligation to try and use our magic to try and fight it?” 

“You are not Wonder Woman timoune,” Voodoo warned his voice still soft but gaining a stern edge as he continued to speak. “You are an inheritor of a great magical legacy, and part of caring for that legacy is being mindful of the balance, of the things which you cannot change. Every day we flirt with forces of immense power and capability, we hold the power to destroy entire worlds in our hands, this is a power which when abused can distort and change a person. The moment you start trying to save everyone is your apotheosis, your divine awakening, but at the same time it is also not just your end but potentially the end of everything.”

“How do we know though?” Questioned Zatanna “Has anyone tried?” 

“many..” 

Zatanna dropped the topic.

Soon after they made it across. They were quickly ushered inside by a waiting servant allowing them to bypass the armed guards that stood at the other side of the bridge. The servant, a sharply dressed woman with a large pair of butterfly wings emerging from her back did her best to get them up to speed as they walked. They had arrived late in the day and the Queen was just finishing up with her audiences for the day, so they would have to hurry if they were going to be able to talk to her. They were also drilled with basic etiquette principles such as the importance of bowing and of not looking the Queen directly in her eyes.  Though if Zatanna was being honest the servant was talking at such a frantic pace, that all the instructions began to blend into one incomprehensible mess. 

As the servant finished her rapid-fire instructions, they arrived at a pair of large double doors flanked on either side by two more royal guards. The doors were already open and from beyond Zatanna could hear the soft murmur of conversation. The servant ushered them forward urgently following closely behind. 

The doors lead into a large throne room. The floor below was made from glass or some other transparent material giving a direct view of the sea of twilight below them. On either side, leading up the throne were a large mass of nobles, dressed in a similar manner to those that they saw on the street. Many of whom chatted amongst themselves, whispering intently as Zatanna and Voodoo entered the room, pointing and gesturing at them. The throne itself was elegant in its simplicity, a single piece of metal that was painstakingly sculpted and pulled into an elegant and graceful shape, reminding Zatanna of a bird soaring into the sky. 

Atop the throne was the most beautiful woman Zatanna had ever seen. It was like she had been forged from the very earth herself: dark caramel colored skin pulled from earthen clay, thick curly red hair tumbling down like a waterfall to her waist, the elegant blue gown was the sea as it shifted and moved on its own. Even from her sitting position she easily managed to command the room, dominating it with her presence. 

Standing in front of her in private conversation was a human man. He was in his late forties or early fifties,  clean shaven, dark hair brushed back, and wearing a simple black tuxedo. He rested much of his weight on a long black cane that he gripped in his left hand, the top adorned with the skull of some kind of corvid. Zatanna was automatically reminded of that old English professor that had been around since the 50s, that she was sure resided at every university. The stranger caring the same universal disdain for the world around them through sheer body language alone.

As they walked down the aisle towards the throne, the servant began to announce loudly.

[b]“Presenting to Her Royal Majesty, The Queen of Faerie, The Lady of Twilight, The Wind of Change, The Great Muse, and the Vengeful Wind, Queen Titania, the Mundane travelers Jericho Drumm and Zatanna Zatara!”[/b]

As they were announced, the Queen and the stranger broke away from one another to turn to address their new arrivals. As the man turned around,  Voodoo froze in his tracks. And all Zatanna could do was stare up at the eyes of the stranger who looked very pleased, eyes the color of a dying ember, the same as nightmarish creature she had seen in her dreams.

And across the room, Anton Arcane smiled back at them both.

“Jericho! What a pleasant surprise!"[/color][/indent][/indent]