[ WP ] In another world , words of music have power to shape reality . Powerful spell-musicians have fought since time immemorial for dominance . The common man thought it would never end , and have taken to summoning strangers from other universes for help . Today , they summoned Bo Burnham .

Jasom shuffled quietly through the dimly lit streets, doing what he could to appear as unassuming as possible, knowing that his capture would mean the end of everything they had been working towards. 
 
 Today is the day. The day the world will break free from the cycle of horror, toiling at the mercy of the few who had crowned themselves masters of reality, living in fear... today is the day when the slaughter would end once and for all. 
 
 He ducked into a nearby alley, drawing his hood over his face. Luck played as much of a role in this as the months of planning did. Any deviations in behavior would draw attention, and he knew as well as anyone else did that keeping your head down was the best way to survive this sad excuse for a world. 
 
 But that was n't enough anymore... not after he watched his family spend their lives on their knees, knowing their fate was never their own. They raised a family, and lived some semblance of an existence. They had survived, but survival was n't enough anymore. Life is about more than just existing. Jason learned this watching time and reality bend and break without warning time and time again. He had lost track of how many friends and family he had lost, how many simply manifested themselves into existence one day, or became someone else entirely. He remembers the hollow look in his parents ’ eyes as another child was taken from them, as a stranger sat at their table and told them about their day, as they grew old knowing they never lived a single day without fear. 
 
 Today is the day. Jasom wouldn ’ t allow another generation to live as puppets. 
 
 The first few attempts had failed. People died, but they died for what they believed in, because they knew this world is more than a plaything for the masters. Masters who could end the suffering any time they chose... but their greed and lust for power was the only thing that they ever seemed to care for. Each time they had gotten closer to the one they needed. He thought back to each of the rituals, of the heroes that had come and gone: Strangers and beings of light that defied reason, entities the mind could scarcely comprehend. Prodigies. Geniuses. Humans and monsters, angels and devils…none had lasted more than a few moments against their foes. 
 
 Then something changed. The survey of a new universe had shown…something. Even Byron could not explain it, a being unlike anything he had sensed before, and he has been trying for decades. Jason knew this was the one. In his bones, he knew. This is the hero they had dedicated their lives to finding. He couldn ’ t wait much longer, and he ’ d been waiting far too long. 
 
 The darkness grew thick around him as he entered what may have at one point been a factory, now another monument to the masters ’ cruelty. His footsteps echoed quietly through the air, and he stopped in the center of the room. He peered into the darkness, and waited. One hour, two. He was worried, had one of the others been caught? He shifted his feet slightly, ready to run, before he composed himself. If they know, running will do nothing. He would face his end with pride, and stare into the soulless eyes of his oppressors and laugh. 
 
 The darkness shifted, and an old man in a cloak more holes than cloth stepped into Jasom ’ s sight. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 He smiled a weary smile, and Jasom managed to relax. Today is still the day. 
 
 One by one they emerged from the darkness: Cass, Deda, Yori, Toff, with a fire in their eyes that Jasom couldn ’ t help but admire. So young. Jason thought grimly. They had lost so many, and this was their last chance. Win or lose, they would give everything. 
 
 Without a word, Byron brought out the book, the sight of it still made Jasom uneasy. Thick and made of old leather, too dark to be anything good. It had been stolen from the masters long ago, so long that none could remember by whom. Byron ’ s trembling hand opened the book to the last page, the only page they had managed to translate. 
 
 “ Now. ” Byron ’ s voice was a booming in the quiet, and he began to chant in a low voice, in a language so dark and foul it should never be heard, let alone spoken. They formed the circle, concentrating. They were few, they would need all of their strength to open a portal again. They didn ’ t bother with a cloaking spell, there was no point. Should any of them survive, they would watch this world crumble. 
 
 Cass was the first to fall, with blood from her eyes, dead before she hit the ground. A spark manifested in the center of the circle, a pinhole of light into another world, the world they deserved. 
 
 Byron ’ s chanting gained an unnatural resonance to it, as though there were another being speaking as well. Jasom winced in pain. He felt blood from his ears. He grimaced and righted himself, he would not fall. 
 
 Instead, Toff fell next. She screamed in pain, vomiting onto the floor. She tried to stand, but her legs would not hold her, and she was finsihed. 
 
 The light between them grew, and the walls and darkness began to fade, illuminating the world around them. Crumbling walls, falling rocks, pillars decayed into nothing as arcs of energy lashed between them. Jasom felt himself being pushed into the ground, he gritted his teeth and fought gravity itself. This will not be the world I leave behind. 
 
 Deda fell next without a sound, whether he was dead or unconscious none of them could begin to guess. 
 
 The world shook and howled as the light became something else between them, and Jasom felt it again. He was coming. 
 
 There was a blast of light and sound, and Jasom was thrown backwards into a wall, crashing into a pile of rubble. He was vaguely aware that his arm had been broken. He opened his eyes, it was morning. The sun began to shine between the cracks in the foundation. He was dizzy, and his ears were ringing. Blinking away the dust, he wondered if anyone else had survived. 
 
 A circle of red that had once been Yori laced the wall opposite him, he scanned the rubble and saw a hand from beneath the rocks. Byron. 
 
 I ’ m the last one, Jasom thought numbly. He hung his head in defeat. We failed. He had no more anger or sadness to give. He stood, surprised that his legs could still hold him, and walked towards the circle, expecting nothing. 
 
 Then he heard him: “ You made me spill my fucking milk! ” Jasom looked up, and where once there was nothing but light, now there was a table, and a chair, and sitting in the latter was the most unassuming man he had ever expected to see, casually eating a bowl of cereal. He wore a white shirt and black jeans, with sandy brown hair, he was maybe 25 years old. Jasom stood numbly, not knowing what to say. It worked? 
 
 The man in the center of the room could not have looked anymore at home, and seemed completely unfazed. He locked eyes with Jasom, still chewing a mouthful of mini wheats. “ I should have had toast, ” He said with no particular inflection. “ You want some? ” He held the box of cereal in Jasom ’ s direction, shaking it back and forth slightly. Jasom hadn ’ t the faintest idea what to say. Had they gotten the spell wrong? 
 
 The man frowned. “ Well fuck you too then. ” He set the box down and took another spoonful into his mouth. 
 
 Suddenly, the building began to bend, the walls melting into the earth itself. Thunder clapped, and an ominous, evil laugh pierced the air. Jasom grew cold, and the blood drained from his face. They ’ re here. He looked wildly in all directions, panicked, his courage leaving him nothing more than a frightened child. 
 
 The air in front of him swirled into a solid mass. Shoras the Unthinkable, ruler of this plane, appeared floating above the ground, his smile all teeth and hate. 
 
 “ Jasom, my boy. ” His voice was needles on a chalkboard, his golden eyes turned to slits. “ You disappoint me. ” 
 
 Jasom stared mutely with a burning hatred, he knew he was finished. 
 
 “ You never did learn to respect your betters…I expected more from a family friend. ” He circled Jasom, gliding along the floor with unnatural ease. “ Although friend might be overstepping things, wouldn ’ t it? ” He paused behind him, setting a hand on his shoulder. “ Don ’ t take it too personally, I just needed a stroke of inspiration, if anything your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time. ” He paused, chuckling. “ They made a lovely song…perhaps I ’ ll sing it for you. No? Another time then. They served their purpose in any case. ” He grinned. “ YOU, though… ” Shoras whistled a simple, eery tune, and Jasom felt himself being lifted into the air. His body turned until his feet were above him, and he stared with horror into Shoras ’ eyes. “ What in the world shall we do with you? ” 
 
 “ Hey fuckface. ” the voice came from the center of the room. Shoras ’ gaze shifted until his eyes locked with the man, still eating cereal. 
 
 Shoras ’ smile flickered for half a moment, he hadn ’ t been spoken to in such a manner for quite some time. “ I don ’ t believe we ’ ve- “ 
 
 “ Is that a fucking cane? ” he asked, spilling some of his cereal back into his bowl. “ Why the fuck do you have a cane? You ’ re not fucking John Hammond. ” He stood up. “ You don ’ t even fucking use it, you ’ re gliding around here like a goddamn ice dancer, probably because your shoes are still slippery from your last blowbang. ” 
 
 Silence. Nobody spoke to a master that way. Shoras managed a laugh. “ Boy, I ’ ve toyed with the fate of planets for amusement. This world is mine to rule, mine to reap, mine to burn. ” Jasom fell to the ground. “ My songs have shattered time and made Gods weep, the earth itself fears my name! ” His pleasant composure fell, and with each word he grew taller, his eyes a burning void, his mouth a prison of a thousand needle-like fangs. “ I WAS, I AM, I WILL BE UNTIL THIS UNIVERSE DIES AND I MAKE A NEW ONE! ” The sun fell away, and the sky turned black as ink. he lowered himself towards the man until he was inches from his face. “ WHO ARE YOU TO SPEAK TO ME!? ” 
 
 The man flicked Shoras ’ nose and blew a raspberry into his face, smiling. 
 
 “ I ’ m Bo Yo. ” 
 
 
 

