A Comedian's Exit

Freedom is not a place, but a moment of beautiful, untethered falling.

The wind was a wonderful, screaming song! Falling, falling, falling through the star-dusted night sky was the most fun I’d ever had! Below me, the city was a beautiful mess of flickering lights and lovely little screams, a grand stage set just for me. I spread my arms wide, a performer taking a bow in mid-air, and laughed, the sound snatched away by the rushing wind.

"Fool! You will splatter against the cobblestones!" the angry ghost lady hissed in my mind. Her voice was so delightfully sharp, like a needle. "Use the energy! Cushion your fall!"

"Cushion?" I chirped. "But crashing is the best part!"

Still, she had a point. The game would end too soon if the toy broke. With a gleeful giggle, I aimed a finger at the rooftop below. A burst of chaotic, purple energy shot out, not to stop me, but to create a wonderful splat of its own. It struck the roof tiles, and they turned into a soft, bouncy, gelatinous goo just a moment before I landed.

Sproing!

I bounced high into the air, tumbling head over heels, before landing gracefully on my feet on another rooftop. "Ta-da!" I announced to the burning city.

The game of tag had begun! Shouts erupted from the street below. My new friends, the shiny metal men, had seen me. They were pointing! How exciting!

"They are coordinating," the ghost lady warned, her spectral form shimmering beside me. "Archers on the western tower. Mages preparing a gravity well. Do not stay still. Move!"

"Move it is!" I sang, and began to run.

Oh, what a wonderful feeling! This body, this springy, delightful thing, was so light! I leaped from rooftop to rooftop, a shadow dancing under the chaotic sky. Arrows tipped with glowing magic hissed past me like angry fireflies. I didn't dodge them. I danced with them, weaving and twirling, letting them pass by inches from my cloak. One got lucky, snagging the fabric of my sleeve and pinning it to a chimney.

"Oh, you caught me!" I giggled, and with a playful tug, I ripped the sleeve free, leaving the arrow and a scrap of cloth behind as a souvenir.

The chase was a beautiful, chaotic symphony. When a group of Knights tried to climb a building to intercept me, I waved my hand and turned the stone bricks of the wall into slippery, wet soap. They slid down in a clattering, cursing heap. So much fun! When a mage on a distant rooftop began to chant a boring, slow spell, I simply created a flock of illusory birds that flew into his face, startling him so much he fell off his perch with a comical shriek.

But... the game was starting to feel... a little tiring. The delightful, tingling sensation in my new eye was fading, replaced by a dull, persistent ache. The beautiful, vibrant colors of the world seemed a little less bright, the edges a little more blurry. The laughter still came, but it felt a little more forced, a little more hollow. The beautiful, burning star of madness inside me was starting to dim.

"Your power is waning," the ghost lady observed, her voice sharp with impatience. "The chaotic energy you are wielding is unstable. It consumes itself. You are burning through the fuel of your own brokenness. The city wall. Now."

The wall! Of course! The final act of our wonderful play!

I could see it in the distance, a massive, dark line separating the burning city from the quiet, dark forest beyond. Freedom! I gathered what was left of that wonderful, agonizing energy, the memory of Vionu's betrayal, the pain that had given me birth. It was not as bright or as strong as before, but it would have to do.

I took a running leap from the edge of the last rooftop, soaring over the final street. I was a falling star, aimed at the heart of the city's stone shell.

"Knock, knock!" I screamed with joyous abandon.

My impact with the wall was not an explosion. It was something stranger. The chaotic energy, the last dregs of my power, didn't shatter the stone. It unmade it. The solid rock dissolved into a shower of silent, purple dust, creating a gaping, perfectly circular hole.

I tumbled through, landing in a clumsy, sprawling heap on the soft dirt and grass on the other side. I was out. I was free.

I pushed myself to my feet, turning to look back at the city through the hole I had made. It was a beautiful sight. A masterpiece of fire and screams. My masterpiece. I gave it a final, deep, theatrical bow.

"Thank you, thank you! You've been a wonderful audience! Goodnight!"

I turned and stumbled into the darkness of the forest. The adrenaline, the ecstatic joy, the glorious freedom—it was all draining away, leaving a vast, cold emptiness in its wake. The ghost lady was gone. The new eye ached with a deep, throbbing pain. The laughter died in my throat.

My legs felt heavy, clumsy things made of lead. Each step was a struggle. The sounds of the burning city faded behind me, replaced by the quiet, indifferent chirping of crickets. The performance was over. The stage was empty. And the actor... the actor was broken.

The last of my strength gave out. My body, this wonderful, springy toy, simply... stopped working. I pitched forward, my face hitting the cool, damp earth. The darkness at the edge of my vision rushed in to claim me. My last conscious thought was not of victory, or freedom, or even survival. It was the quiet, echoing whisper of a boy I used to know.

...why are we still here?

Then, nothing.