Lineart by  -Hornbuckle- with story by  K9Lupus

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As is often the case with many initially good things enjoyed in surplus, in the weeks that followed, the anti-magic narcotics I took showed their true colors. Any of the lingering powers and abilities I possessed only grew weaker and weaker with a disturbingly firm and unyielding character. It wasn't the kind of sensation one might experience with something like a cold, knowing that getting better was just on the other side of a few days' rest and a couple bowls of chicken noodle soup. If only it were that straightforward. This great internal erosion was grit and grind passing over a previously worn and tired existence, shaping a new one into mindless awakening. The scariest part was I barely minded the process.

I couldn’t see the horror of my magical DNA degrading, and with time, no distinction remained between who I used to be and any other ordinary human. The drugs were absolutely clever in how they humbled and numbed the senses and the sensibilities both, giving rise to prolonged periods of memory lapse alongside the development of my increasingly crass and rude demeanor. But I had everything I wanted. Now I was bold, empowered, and self-righteous. I finally began to fit in with the others without worrying about the tethers of the past.

I ended up finally meeting this universe’s local Zeydaan at one of the bridges overlooking the River Tees that had first drawn me here. They were kind enough – bright-eyed and bushy tailed, and actually excited to see me with a small carrier of homemade, hand-rolled sushi for the two of us to share. Maybe I was still blitzed out of my head, but when Zeydaan handed me a box, their form was in a kind of flux. Their shape oscillated in faint, harmonic waves between the wolf before me and a fairy-winged dragon shining yellow like the sun.

From that point on, it didn’t appear like they were simply a version of myself. I had been so self-centric to believe so before. They were a Zeydaan of their origin, or Isabella or sommat else –whatever, I’d figure it out when I came off my last puff– but undoubtedly my chum from down south, who after chatting a bit with, became clear they needed to grow a bit of a backbone.

I didn’t know whether to be flattered or scared out of my mind that my Other Me in this universe didn’t even recognize my former identity. While I hadn’t ever let it slip in my letters who I was, I had hoped on some level there would be this inherent connection between us that would allow them to welcome me formally into their world. Oh well, I guess. At least this way, rejection wouldn’t ever have to rear up its misshapen head to strike me back into the corner I crawled from.

The sushi was beyond delicious though. Would highly recommend it if you ever get the chance.

*******

While I’ve had my misgivings about anything to do with applying for benefits now, getting my name legally changed via deed poll at an assistance office was a much smoother process. Apparently, wanting to change your name doesn’t require as strict guidelines as trying to get funds you’re entitled to. Go figure. In only a few weeks’ time while The Gang helped shore up any loose ends and pitfalls for me, I had received the positively gaudy envelope at my post office box.

Holding the certificate in my hands was a real trip. Grey Ryder. There it was. Me. While everything up until that point in my new life was catalyzed by my actions, the validation of a document inked and printed had me well chuffed. I couldn’t imagine anything looking so simple, yet so perfect in my whole existence.

I went to bed that night thinking nothing in the world could stop me, and with the law now on my side (at least on the books), that was mostly true. I had created this life as Grey Ryder for myself by my own making, and any shreds of who I was before I met The Gang weren’t needed any more.

The morning after, the last fleeting memories of my previous life as Zeydaan had vanished completely. There were no hallmarks of my old life, no reminders or alarms set on my phone to indulge in anything which would have resembled my old life. Nights spent wandering, smoking, and cussing up an occasional storm at the local pub eventually turned up a job at a shoddy cannery with not so shoddy people.

Don’t get me wrong now. I mostly kept to myself there. No need to make acquaintances or connections with people beyond the fact we were all there for the paycheck anyway. Turns out the cannery produced many anti-magic products as a byproduct of their manufacturing process, so from time to time I enjoyed some hard-earned work ‘benefits’ while on the clock. After work, I’d hustle myself right back down to the pub to watch footie with The Gang while downing a cold pint of the good stuff.

From there I was able to lock down some permanent housing on the edge of town. I remember the first night at the new joint. The Gang was keen on throwing a party as raucous as our sneak-in inundation of my last place, but I managed to herd them in line for some indulgence in chicken parmo and chocolate cheesecake – a personal favorite I hadn’t enjoyed in far too long.

Surrounded by my new friends, their tomfoolery truly transforming the house into a home, I couldn't imagine life any better. Seeing their smiling faces, their troubles temporarily distanced from their hearts until they were ready to head back into the world, I was at ease. Through it all, I had done pretty alright for myself, and I couldn’t wait for the next set of adventures ahead.

My new life was simple and impulsive, daring and frightful – the most beautiful struggle I could envision and feel from head to toe. I didn’t take bollocks from anyone and made that clear to anyone who’d entertain thoughts otherwise. Life had become my oyster, my pearl, and the whole bloody ocean to sail as best I saw fit with The Gang’s cheers never wavering from my side all the while.

END

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