Kontiuum Chapter 2 - Nier Tsong

Glaidth shuddered awake, breaking into a sweat.

How long have I been out?

No matter. She hungered for something. Preferably not the half-eaten meat pies scattered

about the kitchen table, which were already beginning to turn. She glanced up at the shallow dent in the wall between the living room and the antechamber. A

reminder of when she tried to smash it down to achieve a more open floor plan.

Nyrnundian family homes had a wall for every room, effective against the Isle’s long winters, though some of the newer units in Velzjöga were beginning to

forego them. If Glaidth were to ever move back, she’d have to start to the west of the Ljoben river, coffers be damned.

Glaidth made sure not to wake Sanya from her sleep as she sat herself up, feather-light in her

movement to for the kitchen. A foul stench reached her first before she could even open the fridge’s door. Inside, an unknowable blackish-brown sludge coated

the lower shelves.

“Of course.” She sighed, reaching for the kettle, then to the tea cabinet.

The Yhirean blend wouldn’t do it for her this time. She needed something stronger. Among other patterned parcels, the pastel pink called out to her. The Golian

Hirashva blend. Sanya hated it.

“Too strong”, she’d say, “like charcoal and tree sap.”

What twisted concoctions Glaidth made when Sanya wasn’t crashing over would’ve made her beyond slappable.

Her tolerance for most stimulants and poisons of the mind meant anything within reason left no mark. She thought it the greatest power of hers to inhale a full

jug of whiskey and walk out with pins and needles and minor itch in the head.

Glaidth began with the mug and strainer set-up, taking a little each; two fistfuls of the Yhirean blend, another of the Thravian blend, and three heaping spoonfuls

of Hirashva. When the kettle came to a boil, she reached for the half-full flask of rice wine in the middle shelf of the fridge. A pour of that, and some sugarcane

pulp for texture.

Even from the kitchen window’s reflection, she could see Sanya standing and staring, a curious look on her face, wondering how Glaidth will fare with this batch.

Every now and then they would do a bet. If the taste could make her flinch, Sanya kept the cash.

“Sixty drer.”

Glaidth shook her head. “Eighty.”

Flour and bread prices were back on high. She needed a little more to survive the jump.

Sanya grinned. “If you add a bit of kömej, I’ll bump it up to ninety.”

The mere thought of it already made her flinch. Kömej was every Nyrnundian child’s rite of passage. No one, not even prisoners, could be forced to consume it. Glaidth had always kept a canister of it in the back end of the fridge. It worked wonders for the compost. Her cabbages enjoyed it most.

Glaidth went arms-deep, retrieving the putrid container and scooping out a chunk with the smallest spoon she could find, and watched as the glob of herbal tar

sunk to the bottom of the mug. She held it up in the air to no one else in particular.

“Cheers.”

Every sip burned her alive. Her lips tingled, sweat beading on her nape. The cane sugar struck

hardest, eliciting a gag. The bet was over before it even began. Sanya was already counting and stacking the bills.

“Eighty-five for the effort.”

“Oh stop it.”

Glaidth could never understand why or how Sanya tolerated her antics. They’ve been going on and off for about a year and a half, each visit feeling like the last.

Maybe it was just the distance. Sanya lived in Aälma with the rest of her family, but her work was in Rennste. Glaidth’s backwater, sod-roofed cabin happened to

be between them both.

“I got a promotion.” Sanya beamed, despite the stagnant air. Glaidth nodded in

acknowledgement, but was more concerned about her next cup--something proper and civil this time.

No kömej or rice wine, only a few drops of cherry jam. It was what the Tovarians used in place of honey or milk. Sanya had told her that much.

Glaidth took a few sips and set her mug down on the counter. The air was too thick. “I’m

opening the window. Is that alright?”

“It’s your house.” Sanya said with a shrug.

Glaidth’s hands reached for the lock, and the grassy petrichor swept in. Cricket chirps replaced the hum of the lights. A distant flicker of a memory took hold--a

time when she first moved in. The broken window. The loose floor panels. The trouble with the toörgs, the two of them. Larger than swans, smarter than crows,

and terribly arrogant.

She’d been grateful for Sanya, of course. They’d met at the main street under the old elm, where Glaidth had taught her how to graft a wish. Sanya had picked a

pear blossom branch--the symbol of longevity--and attached it to the next open root.

Sanya let out a breath. “I don’t think this will work anymore.”

“You say that every time.”

“I know.”

As Sanya deflated against a nearby wall, Glaidth reached for her keys.

“I’ll get the door for you.”

Somehow, that didn’t seem to help. The Tovarian shrunk to the floor, knees hugging her chest.

“Just tell me one thing, please. What is it that you keep running from?”

Things that you do not understand, Glaidth thought. Her hand had already begun clutching

the brass amulet around her neck. A thing she never took off, not even while bathing.

Sanya rose. “Fine. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

“Wait!”

She was already out the door. All Glaidth could do was follow, or at the very least watch her

disappear into the darkness.

The Tovarian was gone, and in her place, the same shapeless figure.

As the crickets halted their song, Glaidth made slow steps back to the veranda, aware of what

was coming. Most others would tell her to run, or to whisper a prayer. But demons were not always what the media made them out to be.

Who would dare frame a child for sins they did not commit? The being of shadow and smoke drew close. Heavy, silent. Yet not a single blade of grass bent in its

wake. Two viridescent pearls for eyes locked onto hers.

Sometimes, she preferred to think this was her grandmother’s way of visiting her. But that was silly conjecture. It was she who raised her from youth and kept

that foul thing away. Yet she had also told her to never despise such creatures. “They are natural . . . like the water and the wind. Just as we are born without sin, so

do they lack innate evil.”

Bullshit. If that really were so, it should’ve backed off long ago. There was no getting to her again after the first time. And still, it followed. Glaidth turned towards t

the door and walked.

Tomorrow, they would meet again. They always did.

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Nier Tsong is an Urban Planning and Geography Major with a Creative Writing Minor. He is aiming to graduate by Spring 2026. His primary hobbies are prose writing, worldbuilding, visual art, and RPG/JRPG games.