#old tip

divine destiny 25

30th of January, 2026.

In the darkness of midnight, or in the absence of Sun, the Angler opened his eyes.

He saw the vast, eerie expanse of emptiness glaring back at him. The air was bitingly cold. Bristles of grass beneath him felt like needles; artificial verdure a poor fascimile of what once was. Was it simply a mirage or could there be truth in pretend? He could not tell.

He rolled over and sat up. Cocooned in shadow, the world at once seemed bright without anything to contrast against. He wondered if he was dreaming. Belatedly he twisted his ear, feeling the tinge of pain. Evidently he was more present than gone. Standing up and brushing himself off (more so as habit than necessity), he looked around for anything. Though all was shrouded in this strange false-night, he could see jagged slopes in the distance, mountains twisting over each other and jutting up everywhere.

The plain he was on ended after walking a while, terminating in a steep drop down into oblivion. Tracing along the edge led nowhere, and he came to realize he was on a circular disk of land.

A confinement.

Strangely, he felt more spry than he had in the past few years. He thought all the walking would wind him, but he found he had no fatigue. Perhaps he was half-asleep still. Nobody gets tired in dreams, at least not in his.

Pacing back and forth for what seemed to be a small eternity, he begrudgingly accepted that perhaps he was actually stuck in some sort of empty wasteland. There was no place he was aware of that resembled here, and where he was previously was long gone, doomed to erosion in his memory.

As he circled back around, he saw a man with a lizard’s tail.

“You are new,” the man said. The Angler’s eyes followed the man’s tail as it swished back and forth.

“Yeah,” the Angler said, “what is this place? Who are you?”

“I beg your pardon,” the man harrumphed, “slow down. We have forever, after all.”

Before the Angler could ask what that meant, the man continued. “You are in the Precipice. I am General Harrison, sir, and I would be happy to assist you in leaving. May I ask your name?”

“Call me Dick. Assist me? What do you mean?”

General Harrison nodded. “This ‘island.’ You cannot stay on it.”

The Angler squinted. “I can’t exactly jump off. You know, I can’t even see the bottom from here.”

“If you could fly, it would be little trouble.”

Sighing, the Angler crossed his arms. “Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m no Bush. I can’t exactly just unfurl some wings and flap away.”

“…Bush? Well. That’s why I am here. Suppose you couldn’t take the leap of faith. How else do you return to Real Life?”

“Is this what it’s about?”

General Harrison seemed startled for a moment, coughing. “You didn’t…? I am very sorry. You are currently DEAD.”

“Huh,” the Angler mumbled.

“That aside, I can help you,” General Harrison continued.

The Angler paused. He looked over the general, finding no wings and nothing that would indicate aerial mobility. “How exactly?” he asked.

Without another word, General Harrison hoisted the Angler into his arms, and lept off the platform. The Angler let out a strangled cry, subsiding once he realized he was still afloat.

“Good God,” the Angler said, “couldn’t you have just told me?”

“Isn’t it more efficient like this?” General Harrison countered.

The Angler opened his mouth to retort, watching the peaks pass by beneath him. However, as quickly as the thought crossed his mind, he felt his consciousness slipping.

Once more, into nihil.

When he came to once more, he was not lying on the ground.

The last he remembered was late fall. It was now storming, a blizzard blanketing the area in snow. The skies were covered completely with clouds.

He briefly wondered what time of year it was. December? January? February?

His clothes had been duly exchanged for warmer options. As he meandered around trying to get a sense of where he was, he realized something.

“General Harrison… that’s William Henry Harrison, isn’t it?”