Tundra: The Death of Icarius - Frozen in Time - Shards of Light
By raob9 - silver member
Submitted on May 21, 2025
Prophecy + Prologue - Moeruhono, the Village of Flames
Note: If you prefer reading it on a google doc, here is the docs: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eaMy4ip5NcmCRtqyUgZis27fQDTdGGCr714adNi84lg/edit?tab=t.0#heading=h.cfeavnv879h0
PART 1: A New Beginning
In the hush of twilight’s breath,
Stars emerge, heralding death.
A prophecy whispers, lone Hyakin’s sign,
In this tale of fate, where do we align?
Across the Heavens, constellations gleam,
Each twinkling light a celestial dream.
But if one should fade, our fortune may severe,
Lost beneath the dark, fate’s final endeavor.
Legends tell of a chosen one,
The last Hyakin, when all is done.
In cosmic dance, their fate entwined,
Guiding us through the veil of time.
So heed the stars, their silent plea,
For the hour is nigh, for all to see.
A world of darkness,
A world of light;,
It is time…
PROLOGUE:
Smoke filled the air, and Azalea coughed, the dust burning down her lungs. She tried to open her eyes, but something held them down. She tried again - Open! Something trickled down her face, and she shook her head, some sort of dirt spraying everywhere. She opened her eyes. The world was burning.
She coughed again, half-consciously moving her arm, searching for the ledge of a window. Her house was small, and the windows were hard to find in the darkness. She’d always been able to see well in the dark, but now she couldn’t see a thing - not only was it night, but smoke filled the air as well. Smoke rose in plumes, billowing above her.
“Help!” she screamed desperately, tears coming to her eyes in panicdesperation. She was crying, a. Aand shend sShe never cried. She shouted in fear again. “Is this a dream?” She yelledshouted. Smoke accumulated in her throat and she paused yet again, gasping for breath. She called again in distressdesperately but was merely met with the sound of fire as it razedcrushed everything in its path. She couldn’t see the fire yet, but she could see an orange glow under the doorway. She could hear it, too.
The crackle of fire, the rush as it consumed everything.
She spat ash onto the ground, and groped for her Darkon, pressing and holding the ON button. It flickered on, but it hadn’t received enough sunlight earlier that day, and it was dim. She didn’t have a Solar to speed-charge her Darkon, and even so, she didn’t have time - the ground was shaking. She cursed loudly and tried again to find the window.
No luck.
The ground began to shake, harder, and faster, then harder again, as planks under her began falling, down, down. A hole in the ground ahead of her, where wood had been burned away, confirmed her worst fears. If she fell now, she would be burned alive. She could see flickering orange flames, like devils, awaiting their next meal. She grabbed at the rough bricks with her hands as nearer planks began to fall. She groped for a window, anything. She grabbed again at the wall, somehow managing to hold and hang on an outward brick - one her uncle had agreed to fix later that day. She didn’t dare look down, but she knew that the floor was falling, and the fire was demolishing everything in its wake.
She gasped in pain as a discarded bit of wood hit her arm - the first large piece of burning wood that had hit her. It burned her the skin, calling unnatural screams to her as her flesh burned. She shrugged as much as she was able to without falling, and the burning ember fell away, though not before it had done its damage. But she couldn’t nurse her arm now.
Half-blinded by tears, she looked uparound desperately. The window shed bright white light, and as she watched it, it grew brighter, seeming to engulf her world. Then she could feel herself falling again, but she didn’t care. She saw the light, that was all she cared about…
Then it was getting dimmer and dimmer, but she didn’t care as long as she could see it…
Suddenly the light fell away, and Azalea feltsaw herself falling again. She could see the hooks that her aunt used to hang coats along the stairs, and, grabbing at one, she hung above the flickering flames, inches from her demisedeath. She could feel the terrible heat, and flames licked at her feet, reaching up for this new treat. She couldn’t see the window anymore, but she knew where it was. She extended her hand, and grabbed the next brick, pulling herself up. She wished she had more of a hold, but she didn’t and had to work by pulling herself up by her arms, feeling weaker every second. More burning debris fell above her - the stick that had burned her earlier seemed so small now. There was no time for rest, and she gasped as her hands slipped, but she managed to grab a small hold.
She could feel herself slipping again.
Slowly, painfully, she worked to the top. She could see it now, blinding her, but suddenly itthere was only darkness andexcept the orange glow beneath her. Perfect dDarkness. She felt the urge to relax, to fall, but with the last of her strength, she surged onto the window sill. She managed to pull her leg over, and lay there, gasping for air, half inside and half out.
Half-conscious, she tumbled out of the two-story building. She could feel herself falling but she couldn’t move, it was too painful. She was gliding through the air, and falling… down… falling…down… down…
Her arm hurt, and she hit the ground, everything going absolutely, silently… black. Oh that perfect silence…
Azalea could feel something wet against her cheek. Her whole body ached. She creaked open her eyes, every movement sending searing pain down her bones. She looked around as best as she could without moving her head. She could feel liquid flowing down her cheek. Blood? She tried to identify where it was coming from, but couldn’t tell. Her whole body hurt so much.
She tried to keep her eyes open, but she could feel them closing again.
The next time she awoke, the pain was better but still bad. She opened her eyes slowly. Her mouth was dry, and she coughed. Dust fell around her. Her body was covered in soot, and a sickening smell filled the air. She moved one of her arms slowly, enduring the shattering pain. She managed to sit up and leaned back on a sloping surface. She paused for a moment there, regaining her breath, before looking around. She was on some sort of hill. Had she rolled down after falling from the window? She could see people running around ahead of her, but they were too far, only distant shadows.
She was so tired… Her eyes closed once again.
She awoke again after some time, though she didn’t know how long exactly. Her limbs still ached, but it was getting better, almost as though some spirit had healed her. She was so thirsty and began to crawl. Water. She needed water. She stopped, and her eyes opened a bit more. A small, dirty stream. She drank, then lay back for some time. She turned, slowly, painfully, noticing her surroundings. The last time she had woken, she had been at the foot of the hill her house sat on. Now, as she glanced around, she noticed she was beside a stream, in a dense forest. An overwhelming pain shot through her body, eliminating all chances of continuing her train of thought.
She stood up shakily, listening for anyone - anything that could help her.
A few seconds passed. Nothing. She held onto a tree for balance, straining to not blackout. After a moment, the feeling passed, and she could walk again, each step threatening to engulf her. Away from the home she had always known.
Never once looking back.
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Chapter 1: Midnight Assassinations
A shadow flickered as the figure rounded the corner of a dark alleyway, glancing behind them nervously. No sign of their pursuers - yet. Beneath the hood that concealed them was a young girl’s determined face, still soft. She couldn’t have been a loner for more than a few days.
Her jet-black hair covered half her tense face, and her normally black eyes were red in the wavering light of the lanterns. She’d never understood why her eyes turned red in the darkness, but somehow she could see better in the dark with them.
She had tried to overcome the strange change, though even if she had managed to halt it, her eyes in the light were just as strange – even among her kind, they were different. Strange, piercing, dark eyes, darker than the shadows themselves, looking through everything they passed, understanding and brooding. Eyes that should have been soft, but instead were lit with a fiery steam.
Her spasms didn’t help her reputation either. Strange, uncontrollable moments when she fell into some deep memory, blacking out until she had relieved a terrible scene. Worse were the patterns in which her memories came, an order with some meaning she could never quite place.
In her hand, she clutched a gun. It had a gray color, not the flashy type, but one clearly meant to be used for stealth. A sinister look came with it, and yet, like all guns, it had a certain bond to the one who touched it, felt it, and ultimately fired it. It was light but strong. The handle had a slight curve, instantly manifesting the fact that it was a Shibuki. The barrel had words in the old language, spelling something…
The figure crouched at the corner of the alleyway, a skill she had mastered in the past week. It was vital to be close, but not too close. She was lucky to have learned quickly, or she would have been caught by now. Footsteps pattered, and she instantly knew where they were. Even soft, cloth-made shoes made a sound in the dim, echoey alleyways.
The footsteps had stopped. The figure’s body tensed. Soft whispers echoed from the alleyway beside the figure - five more steps and they would have caught the runaway. Slowly, moving with care, the figure hurried away, shaking memories from her head. Nothing would steal her dreams - not even a terrible evocation, that memory of her burning home…
Now, it was twice that her home had burned. One of them, her uncle and aunt’s home, and the other, her Hyakin home. Her home of the Moonstone. Those seven pure white stones, each which represented a different power, would continuously haunt her. But those could be pushed out of her mind. Not so the Moonstone. The all-power stone. The stone that only a select few Hyakin belonged to. Her stone. And now… She was the last of the Hyakin belonging to the Moonstone. For all she knew, the last of the Hyakin completely.
And though she didn’t know it quite yet, that would haunt her for eternity.
∗ ∗ ∗
The thought that the house couldn’t have caught fire on its own had lingered with her since then. How the smoke rose in plumes to show her house was the only one on fire, how the fire had started on the bottom floor near the hay - that in particular had been kept away from any fire - you would have had to walk in and light it on fire. Had it been those who were chasing her? She tried to remember her grandmother’s words, but they were too old – too faint…
Azalea had grown up with only one goal - to go to Koruk as soon as possible. Her uncle had scoffed at the idea. Flight School was too expensive - besides, who had ever heard of a girl going to flight school? She had to age a few years before that anyway.. She would have to wait until she lived on her own to go. That was what he had told her - then he had whipped her and locked her into her room for three days.
But now the prospect of going seemed so weak.
Too weak.
But still. She had tried. No matter what had been thrown at her, no matter what happened, she refused to give up - not when she was so close to accomplishing the dreams she had had since childhood. Flight School! Could you imagine it?
She would have thought that the god of dreams would have taken mercy on her, and helped her achieve her goal, but her prayers were never answered. It was as though the gods had chosen to, instead of help her, curse her with bad luck, her life a movie and them the happy viewers. As if she was just an object, a character to laugh at.
Azalea had seen those who hated her. Those who tried to kill her. Those she ran from. But she wondered who they were. What they were thinking, but most importantly – why they hated her. Why her? She was just a girl - what could she have done?
It had been a narrow escape. She didn’t want to go through anymore of those, not for anything.
Clutching her Shibuki in her hand, she disappeared behind another alleyway. She would have to find a place to sleep for the night - she had already made the mistake of sleeping at an Inn. Her pursuers had found where she was almost instantly, and it was that which had gotten her into this mess.
If she slept on the street, the Watch would arrest her. The Watch was a set of stern guards, in charge of “clearing the streets,” and they arrested everyone they caught on the streets at night. She would have to either go without sleep or find another option - and quickly. She glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange glow on the clouds around it. She could see bright stars beginning to peek out from the galaxie’s curtains. The purple hue coming from the Icarius System shed light, blending into the orange, creating a reddish tone. She envied the sky - it was there forever, care-free and quiet, away from everything, anyone. But night was coming, and her enemies would find her if she didn’t move fast.
As if on cue, the echoes of her pursuers were growing louder. NoiselesslyNippily, she dashed behind the alley way, holding her breath. Her heartbeat quickened, thumping against her chest.
A shout came from one of her pursuers. Her heart jumped. Had they seen her?
Laser beams shot towards her, and she narrowly dodged them, confirming her worst fears. She had been too slow. Too careless, once again.
Azalea shot over her shoulder with her Shibuki, as more lasers joined the air. She ran, occasionally shooting behind her, but the light was dim, and she couldn’t aim well while sprinting.
Pain hit her in her right arm, and she felt herself being pulled back. She had been Pinpointed! Nobody knew how the laser beam became solid, nor stayed in its shape as it turned to hardening, molten metal, but she could feel it on her arm and knew it was real – and hated it for being that way.
She could see her pursuers running up towards her - they would catch her if she didn’t do something soon.
The laser that had Pinpointed her was starting to become solid - she couldn’t let that happen, no matter what.
She closed her eyes, and grabbed the half-solid laser - It was burning hot, and seemed to melt onto her hand, engulfing her in pain. Azalea cried out, a terrible, guttural scream, but kept her hand on it, pulling it away from her arm. It stretched slightly, but nothing more. Her hand was collapsing, shriveling and dying… She would have to let go soon or she would pass out from the pain. It stretched a bit more then suddenly broke, sending her and her pursuers flying apart from each other, no doubt returning to its anchor.
A bit was still stuck on her arm, and her hand… she collapsed on the ground, clutching her hand. Then, as though wind had taken her, she came away from to her senses and ran. She could hear cries of rage and pain from her pursuers behind her, but she didn’t stop. She ran like she had never run before, not once looking back, until she couldn’t hear anything anymore. Finally, she stopped, glancing behind her, then once her instincts had confirmed she was safe, collapsed on the ground, her breath coming quickly in painful gasps.
Night had come, and with it darkness. Her breath caught as a new wave of pain hit her, sharp and fast. She looked at her arm. A bit of hardened metal stuck there, and she moved her arm to try to pull it off, but her hand was blackened from pulling away the Pinpoint Laser. She could hardly move her fingers.
Azalea pulled out her Darkon, and it shed light for her to see by. She glanced around her. She could see the alley way she had come from to her right, and the forest looming to her left. The city was farther on to her right, past the alleys, and it shed a pale glow against the night sky. It and the Icarius Galaxy were the only givers of light. It had never been so dark…
She had never felt so forlorn in her life. She gasped as another burst of pain jolted from her hand. The night was alive with her screams, but they faded away as she fell into a deep, painless unconsciousness.
She awoke to a burning pain in her hand. She had somehow rolled onto it in her sleep. She pulled her arm out from behind her back, and the pain tingled worse than ever. It was as though her hand was numb yet still managed to be a giver of pain.
Dawn was spreading its light over the waking world, and if she lit the Darkon, she could see her hand. It was the first good look she had gotten of her hand, and she gasped when she saw it.
Her entire hand was scorched and black, like a deeply burned log. Her fingernails were even uglier, half-burned away, and wrinkled. Her hand was also coated with burned blood, frozen in place as it poured down to her wrist. She had a deep wound in the palm of her hand. It was there that the blood must have come from. She had been too tired to notice it before, but now that she was awake, she could feel the pain, almost as if she was reliving the scene. Dawn had come and gone, and by the time she looked up again, it was morning.
Azalea wished she had a Dial to know the time, but they were expensive, and she didn’t have the money. She sighed, and thrust the Darkon into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and casing her Shibuki. Azalea started down the grassy, dew covered hill, wincing with the new-found pain. She had to keep moving.
She heard the village before she saw it. Shouts from eager merchants, the cries of the customers, and the sound of Viper ships leaving the port all rolled together perfectly, reminding her of a different sort of pain of her village which she had fled. She half-consciously rubbed the marks where her uncle had whipped her.
She hadn’t seen the village yet. Only run through its dim alleys the night before, stayed at an Inn on the edge, and traveled through the forest behind it. It would be the first time she had seen the inside of a village since she had run from Moeruhono.
She took a deep breath and stepped into the main street.
It was so bright compared to the forest, so lively. Half the people were nobles; she knew they were because of their elaborate clothing.
One stopped in front of a vendor, and she studied him discreetly. He had a long red cape with gold and silver embroidery all over it, that billowed behind him every movement he made. When he extended his hand to point to the vendor’s product, she saw he had gold gloves with purple lining. His sleeve was a royal green, with buttons of all colors, and the fabric drooped from his arms. His boots were polished and black, and on his head was a tall hat with no brim. It was spiraled red and yellow, and finely woven stars covered the top. Azalea forgot everything and looked at him. He had finished picking out his goods, and he was paying the merchant.
Suddenly, without warning, he spun around, and his eyes stared into hers. They were dark and cruel eyes, and she jumped, stepping back. Almost instantly another boy was at his side. He wore plain clothing compared to the noble, and seemed young - he couldn’t have been more than 18, only a few years older than her. A green shirt and brown pants, reaching past his ragged boots, and touching the floor - he must be one of the noble’s slaves. He, too, glanced at Azalea. Uncertainly, she took another step back. Something crashed into her from behind, and she fell.
“Watch it!” snapped a vendor pushing a cart.
She murmured an apology, as a few strange circular orange fruits fell from the basket. She jumped up quickly, dusting herself off nervously. She could see the new boy walking towards her, and felt her heart thumping. The noble had turned back around, but she hadn’t forgotten him, and his eyes…
She glanced around, searching for a place to escape. But the marketplace was almost empty, as the first crowd had passed by. He would reach her before the next crowd came.
He had stopped in the middle of the street, halfway towards her. She made to grab her Shibuki, but her injured hand didn’t allow her to. He was walking again, and she glanced behind her before stepping back to become parallel with a stall.
If need be, she could duck behind the stall, and run through the winding corners. He paused a little ahead of her, just on the edge of the rough dirt path. Now that he was closer, she could make out a bit more of his features.
His hands were rough and dirty, not the hands you normally saw on noble servantsnoble’s servants. His mouth was thin and scarred. His eyes were narrow, a dark brown. Any darker and they would have matched Azalea’s eyes perfectly. There was no facial hair on his face yet. Still… she could sense something dangerous about the noble. And that inevitably meant that he was a threat.
She finally managed to extract her Shibuki, and stepped back, as he stepped forward. If she did fight, she didn’t want to make a scene and let her pursuers target her again - she would have to overpower him herself if she did fight. She continued to step back slowly, and he followed. She stopped once they were safely away from the village. She pointed her Shibuki at him.
“Who are you?” She demanded.
His thin lips parted to a half-smile. “You really are a bold one, aren’t you?”
Azalea shakily thrust the Shibuki forward, nearer to his face.
“Who are you?” She repeated. He sighed, and sat down, his voice barely audible.
“I don’t really know anymore.”
Her eyes narrowed. Was this some sort of trick?
“What-”
He cut her off. “Do you know who you are?”
She didn’t answer. She hadn’t thought about that before, and when she did, she realized she didn’t know who she was. “I… No, I guess, but still…” She couldn’t finish.
“Exactly.” His voice was edged, though she couldn’t identify his emotions - he concealed them well.
“Look, I’m here to help. Take it or leave it.” He was short, and firm. Still. Did he really expect her to trust him immediately?
“How can I trust you before you tell me who you are? Or what you want?”
“That’s up to you. But I’ll warn you now. The nobles of this area are revengeful and dangerous. It’d be best if you stayed away from them. Especially…. Doruk.”
“Who?” She wondered aloud, then cursed softly. She should know better than to show her curiosity. She still didn’t know if she could trust him.
The corners of his mouth tilted up again. “Doruk is –”
It was her turn to cut him off. “No. Never mind. I should get going now.”
She replaced her Shibuki in its holster, and turned, for the first time noticing the massive redwoods that stood before her. She sighed. She would never be like them. Tall, Magnificent, Strong…
Movement jolted her from her thoughts, and she turned quickly. The boy had stood up, the traces of his smile gone.
“Leave me alone.” She turned around, towards the trees. Away from the village. Maybe she’d find another.
“No!” Shouted the boy, reaching out and grasping her arm desperately. She could feel her sleeve tearing.
“Wha-” She started, trying to twist out of his reach, but he held on tightly. She stopped struggling after a moment. “What do you want?” her breath came in short gasps, already she was out of breath. She still hadn’t fully recovered.
“I know how to help you!” He hissed. She could detect a hint of frustration in his feelings.
“You can leave me alone!” She snapped angrily, but stopped when he gasped. “What?” She demanded, irritated. “Let go of me!”
“Who did this to you?” He asked, his voice thick with shock. His grip loosened, and she yanked her arm out of his reach, spinning around to face him, but he grabbed onto her arm again. Now that she was facing him, she could see what he was looking at.
Long, thick indented lines squiggled along her upper arm - whiplash. She cursed audibly. She’d thought they would have faded by now, but they obviously hadn’t.
And the fact that her sleeve was ripped didn’t help at all… She’d have to stitch it together somehow, or risk being asked questions.
“And that.” His voice was a bit calmer than before, though still astonished. She glanced to where he was looking - her hand. “It’s not important.” She snapped. “Now will you just let go of me, and I’ll be on my way!”
“No. It is. I can tell.” His voice was soft but strengthened as he continued. “My parents died too. And I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not.”
Azalea gasped and stared at him. “How did you…” He covered his mouth with his free hand quickly.
“You knew? How?” her voice rose to a shout, and he stepped back. “I–” Her eyes narrowed, but she controlled her temper. “What?” She had never dreamed someone would know so soon…
He seemed to regain a bit of his composure. “Let’s make a promise before we go any further.”
“What kind of promise?” How could he talk so freely about something so terrible?
“I’ll tell you how my parents died, and how I know your parents died, but only if….” He stopped, seeming to measure her up.
“If?” She repeated.
“If you tell me what happened to your hand.” He pointed at her blackened hand.
She stared at him for a moment, weighing her options. As much as she wanted to know how he knew her, she was afraid he was on the side of her pursuers. But she didn’t have much choice - he’d probably find out anyway.
“Fine.” she turned away. “You first.”
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Chapter 2: Know Thyself
“After my parents were killed in a bombing, I was living on the streets, with no future ahead. The noble you saw found me, and helped me, in return for me helping him. He noticed you, and wanted me to go talk to you.”
He stopped, then raised his eyebrows. “Your turn.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no – you swore!”
“As did you. That didn’t stop you from telling a lie.”
The boy put a hand on his face, sighing. “I said I would tell you what happened.”
“You said you would tell me the truth.”
They engaged in silentin a silent staring contests. Finally, the boy broke his gaze away, clenched his fist momentarily, then took up the true story. “Trayan - he’s the noble you saw - found me, and enslaved me. He told me that not only had he killed my parents, he would kill me too if I didn’t obey him.”
“That doesn’t explain how or why anything happened.” Azalea snapped. This – person – meant nothing to her. She didn’t care for his stories. She had her own life to save.
“I’m getting to that part. Anyway, he told me that he was looking for a runaway whose parents had been killed, just like mine. Then just now he told me you were the one - that I should catch you and bring you to him. But he trusted me one too many times. I’m never going back again.”
The boy glanced behind him. “I hate Trayan, just like you.”
Azalea didn’t move or answer. Here was someone whose parents were dead, who had the opportunity to be sheltered in the house of a noble, and yet had refused to turn to the noble’s side. Unless he was lying to her – that was a distinct, and extremely likely possibility.
“Your turn.” The boy said, the half smile reappearing on his face. She sighed. She’d hoped he’d forgotten about her, but he obviously hadn’t… and she knew she was a terrible liar.
“After my uncle and aunt’s house was burned down…” She began, then paused as he shook his head.
“No. What happened to your hand.” He was firm, and as he talked, he stood up and walked until he was right in front of her.
No chance of escape then, it seemed. She blew through her mind quickly, seeking an easily accessible lie, but found none.
She gritted her teeth and clenched her hand as much as it would go.
Not very much.
“I… Was being chased, and…” Azalea stared at her hand, refusing to meet the boy’s eyes.
“And?” He echoed, his voice suddenly soft. “What was I supposed to do? They were pinpointingPinpointing me…” She let the sentence hang, hoping she wouldn’t have to finish explaining.
“But that doesn’t explain how or why…” The boy started, then stopped, his eyes narrowing, and a gasp escaping from his mouth.
“You couldn’t have- There’s no way-”
“Well, I did.” Azalea snapped, then stared at the ground once again. The boy looked at her, but it was clear she wasn’t lying.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
His voice was barely a whisper, so soft that the slightest wind would have blown it away, if there had been any. But the forest was silent, as though it, too, was listening, and straining to hear each word. Not a leaf was rustling, nor an animal moving. The forest was perfectly still.
Suddenly, a twig cracked, startling the forest out of its dreams.
Birds flew from a bush, crying alarm calls. The sound of metal clinking grew louder, and the two spun around to stare at the bush. There was nothing inside - that much was certain - but there was something behind it.
The boy grabbed a gun, and pointed it at the bush; Azalea followed his example, her Shibuki on the edges of her fingers, the safety guard no longer on.
Not that safety existed around her.
“Come on!” Azalea dashed to the bush, and looked through the thick sticks, making her way through the thorns until she sat painfully in the center of the bush. It was thick, but not too thick, complete with thorns that scratched her and pulled at her tattered clothing. She could see fogged figures moving around, and a moment later, the boy joined her.
She couldn’t let him give her away by standing in plain sight. She silently cursed the stars for ever bringing him to her life, then focused on the men.
“It’s them.” She spat quietly. “The ones who chased me.”
The boy squinted, searching them out. “There’s five at least. Haven’t you ever seen them?”
“No, dummy. I just ran – they were chasing me. But I know that they don’t want to talk - they want to kill, or they wouldn’t have snuck up on us like that.” She whispered, taking aim with her Shibuki.
“No!” The boy put his hand on the barrel of her Shibuki.
“That’ll just give our position away!”
“Then what do you propose we do?” Azalea snapped angrily. The boy looked at her, his eyes burning into hers; she wanted to look away but couldn’t.
“We run. We run as fast as we can. And we get away. Alright?”
She nodded slowly, exhaling. “Fine.”
Something flew past her, and she ducked, as more came - bullets. She could see the boy beside her doing the same. One of the men called in a language she did not know - she suspected it was Morn, an old language named after the creator, a famous noble and criminal - Morna.
Birds took flight from nearby trees, and the men turned away, one calling to another.
“Yoren. Baynachi kayron. No there.”
Azalea breathed a sigh of relief as the men moved on. One thing was certain. She couldn’t stay here. She started as she realized that the boy was talking to her again.
“What?” She whispered, her eyes following her pursuers.
“I was saying…” Replied the boy through gritted teeth. “That we should run when I say ‘now’. Got it?”
She nodded grudgingly. There wasn’t time to argue. The boy nodded, then looked at the men, waiting. Watching. Calculating.
She hardly heard him when he shouted “Now!”. She was up and running, and bullets were flying around her, just as before. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a Pinpointing Laser shooting towards her, but it changed direction suddenly and shot towards the boy. Without thinking, she jumped, pushing him down as the Pinpoint laser passed a hair’s breadth away from his shoulder. She could hear a deafening boom, and then everything disappeared.
The world swirled, faster and faster, and her whip scars burned, making the pain in her hand feel like nothing. The last she saw was a flickering lantern before it went out. She passed out of the world and into a spasm as her mind roared with pain.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Minaide?” The whisper came from a young girl, no more than 6. “Mmm?” Replied an aged woman, not really listening, her long, gray locks curling around her fingers perfectly, her eyes bright. “Why is it my eyes turn red?” The girl’s eyes were hopeful, and her small hands found the old woman’s wrinkled hand and began to play with the elaborate rings that seemed to be part of the old woman’s hand. The woman sighed and lifted the girl onto her lap. The girl squealed happily. “Azalea.” said the woman, now rocking the girl softly on her lap. “You have powers not seen for a millennium. You are powerful.” The girl perked up hopefully. “Dangerous?” The woman sighed. “No, Azalea. Not dangerous. Not yet. But some want your powers. They want to use you.” The girl’s happiness suddenly vanished, replaced with fierceness. “They won’t take me away from you!” The girl’s hands tightened against the aged woman’s hands as if someone might jump out at her any moment. The woman didn’t answer, her eyes suddenly unfocused, misty. “No, Azalea…”
∗ ∗ ∗
“Can you hear me?” The voice was echoey and faint, just barely managing to penetrate the thick curtains of unconsciousness. A boy’s voice. She thought she recognized it but was too tired to remember. She could hear another man’s voice too, older, perhaps even old enough to be her grandfather.
“Here, try this. Nice and hard, mind you.” She could hardly hear anything, and at that moment, she didn’t care to. She received a stinging pain in her arm, and her eyes snapped open. She tried to talk, but she couldn’t – she gasped for breath. The pain was terrible!
“Good. She’s alive.” The older man was talking again, but he was to her left, so she couldn’t see him. “Can you hear me?” Asked the boy again. “Just nod if you can.” She did her best to nod, succeeding in a slight movement of her chin. She hoped he had noticed. He did.
“Oh god, oh god.” The boy whispered, and she thought she could hear him collapse in a chair. “She’s alive.”
“Don’t move.” The older man said moving forward and placing something at the foot of the bed. She heard the sound of clinking metal, then a sharp pain in her leg. She gritted her teeth, determined not to cry out. Then the pain was over, and she could sit up and move her head. She didn’t know how it had happened, but she suddenly felt fresh again, though her arm was limp and unmoving.
She glanced at her shriveled arm. The blackness had spread so it was halfway to her elbow. She gritted her teeth.
They must have given her the pain in her leg to distract her from her arm.
She glanced around her. The boy she had met earlier was sitting at her side, and an old, short man was hobbling to stand near the boy. He had a long, white and gray beard, with twinkling blue eyes. He was short, no more than 4 or 5 feet, and carried a cup of some yellowish substance.
“Here. Drink this.” She hadn’t noticed how raspy his voice was. She didn’t take the cup.
“I can’t trust you!” She managed to say, unclipping a hidden dagger from her shoulder and pointing the tip at him.
She could feel her hands shaking.
“It’s alright. He’s a friend.” Began the boy, stepping forward consolingly. She swung the knife to point at him. “And I don’t trust you, either.” The boy stepped forward. “If you hadn’t trusted me, you wouldn’t have stopped the Pinpoint from reaching me.”
She clenched her teeth. “I may be regretting that now.”
The old man had set down the strange glass, and hobbled between Azalea and the boy, spreading his arms so that they were pushed a bit apart from each other.
The boy resisted a bit but gave in and sat back down on the chair. “But Master Wyatt…”
“Elijah.” The old man said, and the boy stopped. He turned to Azalea. “What is your name, child?”
Azalea didn’t answer. “None of your business. I don’t trust you. I trust him - whatever his name is - much more than I trust you.”
Wyatt sighed. “Do you trust him?”
Azalea considered for a moment. “I don’t know.” She replied truthfully. “He hasn’t betrayed me… yet. But I don’t trust you.”
Wyatt chuckled, then moved away. Azalea couldn’t see what was so funny, but she didn’t say anything. Elijah stepped forward again.
“Look, I don’t even know your name, but stop being ridiculous. We can keep you safe from the people that are following you! We can-”
Azalea interrupted him. She had been bursting to say this since he had met her, and now she let it out. “Good! How am I supposed to trust anyone anymore? When I was 5 years old my grandmother was killed because of those who wanted me! Do you really think that I need protecting?”
Elijah sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that!” Azalea turned away, but inside she knew he was right.
She hated being weak.
Hated being dependent.
“What happened?” She asked grudgingly. Elijah seemed relieved she had stopped shouting, grateful for a change in conversation.
“You stopped the Pinpoint laser from hitting me… Somehow. I don’t know. Your eyes were all red, and-” Azalea stifled a gasp at this point, and Elijah looked concerned, but her eyes told him to continue. He hesitated, but before she could snap something, he continued.
“And then there was blackness everywhere, and when it cleared we were just outside of the forest, in the alleyways… it was like we teleported or something. You were unconscious, and your arm was broken. I brought you here.”
Azalea didn’t move, didn’t speak. The words of her grandmother were coming back to her… She had said that she had powers… was that what the men were after? She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t risk endangering the old man who had just saved her life… She made to get up, but Elijah stopped her.
“Not yet! You’re not strong enough!”
She gritted her teeth.
Elijah spoke quickly, stopping her from saying anything. “Look, I know how it feels to be weak like this. I’ve been like you, felt what you’re feeling now. But you’ve got to stay put. You can’t just go tearing yourself apart! Let it heal, okay?”
She didn’t answer, but he was satisfied; he had won. He turned and picked up the cup with the strange, murky liquid.
“I trust Wyatt. Drink this. It’ll help.” She half-willingly took the cup, and pressed it to her lips, letting a steady stream of the liquid into her mouth. It had a strange taste, citrusy and sweet, and it felt like ice, freezing her mouth as she drank it, even though the cup was warm. She could feel herself sinking into unconsciousness again, this time making no effort to stay in the conscious world but letting herself sink into darkness.
∗ ∗ ∗
A sudden flash of white light, met with red, as the muffled cry of a man split the silence. Minaide was up on her feet, her eyes suddenly red, and dangerous, her arms spread out to protect Azalea from the approaching men. She had unleashed her dragon. Her spirit. “I’m warning you now…” even her voice was different, cold, angry, not the grandmother she had known - thought she’d known - her whole life. Azalea looked up, noticing with a jolt that it had just become night, something she’d never experienced with her grandmother by her side. She pulled her grandmother’s hand close, but it was ripped away from her, and she grasped her own hand for comfort, shivering though it was not cold. Minaide was using her eyes, her channels to her powers… “Grandmother!” Azalea cried, her voice echoing back again and again…
∗ ∗ ∗
Her eyes popped open, and she looked around. The first thing she saw was Elijah, sitting next to her, then Wyatt in the shadowed doorway, a soft smile on his tired and wrinkled face, then her eyes flitted past him to the window. She could see stars. Stars. It was night. She sat up quickly and closed her eyes. She could almost see Wyatt walking quickly towards her, and hear his heavy footsteps. She kept her eyes closed. They couldn’t see what she was. Who she was.
“What is it?” demanded Elijah, and she heard the blanket rubbing against his pants as he stood up.
“Sit down, Elijah.” Wyatt’s voice was harsh and dangerous. She heard Elijah sit without protest.
“Open your eyes.” Wyatt was standing over her, she knew it. If she opened her eyes, he would see. See who she was. But if she didn’t, that would be worse. “Open your eyes,” Wyatt said again, urgency and desperation clear in his voice. She couldn’t breath, couldn’t speak.
“Do it.”
She had never thought she would, but she could feel her eyes opening and saw Wyatt’s wide eyes, unbelieving, and Elijah’s confused gaze.
“It’s not possible,” Wyatt said, and she saw him move his hand to his belt, where a weapon undoubtedly hung. “Talpohg was the last, and I witnessed his death. I’m sure of it.” Elijah interrupted impatiently. “What?”
“She is a Hyakin. The last of the Hyakin.”
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Chapter 3:The Last of the Hyakin
Death. Destruction. Everywhere she looked, she saw it. The rotting bodies that nobody had bothered to bury. Maybe because they were all dead. The stench of decay was thicker than anything she knew, yet the battle had been recent - a fact she knew yet couldn’t understand, an eerie feeling in her heart. The blood, so plentiful, that still, it dripped from the wreckage, mixing with the dirt and grime of the rest of the battlefield. She hadn’t known so many to die at once, their skin seeming to melt, skulls forming. She looked around, catching sight of one or two still living people. She hurried towards them as best as she could, her body still bleeding freely. They saw her, and began to stand up slowly, shakily, wobbling on what little blood they had left. “Back…” they whispered, shaking on their feet. “Trap…” She heard nothing, running as far as she could, as fast as she could. “Who did this?” She called desperately, as she saw the strangers collapsing. “Please! I need help!” Silence. “Please…”
∗ ∗ ∗
Wyatt had explained everything, though she was still disappointed that he hadn’t known or told her what her powers could do. Elijah was confused, but, judging from his face and tone, relieved it hadn’t been something worse. Wyatt left after a few minutes, leaving Azalea and Elijah alone in an uncomfortable silence that lasted until Wyatt came back in, carrying a small scroll and lamp. “Your eyes can see easily in the dark, but ours will need a lamp,” he said teasingly, and she shrugged, their earlier conversation still echoing in her head. Wyatt unfurled the scroll, revealing a detailed map. They studied it for a moment, and then Wyatt pointed to a small outlined section.
“This is where we are now… and this is the Viper port. To get there you’ll need to follow…” Wyatt traced the path with his finger. “This route.” He paused for a moment.
“Ask for OG Kosh, he’s always good for someone who doesn’t want to be noticed, like you. Pay him whatever he asks without question, it’s the safest way.” She nodded.
“Now, Elijah, I’ll give you this… It’s enough to pay for a few meals for both of you, but-”
“I’m going alone.”
“No, you’re not.” He was quick to answer. “Elijah’s going with you.”
Azalea threw the covers off her and stood up. “Where’s my stuff?” Elijah jumped up, stepping in front of her.
“You're not going anywhere.” He tried to push her back down, but she resisted, managing to stand up.
“I said,” she said, her teeth gritted. “Where’s my stuff?”
Elijah betrayed the location by glancing nervously at a chair in the back corner. She saw it immediately; her bag was untouched, sitting on the chair. She lunged towards it, but he stepped in front of her again.
“You can’t do this! You’re not strong enough… I’ve got to come!” She paid no attention and tried to get around him, but he didn’t let her. He ducked to avoid her blows and blocked when it was possible. She saw her chance, and spun around, so that her back was facing the bag, then snatched it up quickly, and spun around, staring straight into Elijah’s eyes.
“You can’t go alone.” He was desperate, but she didn’t care.
“Watch me.” She snapped, swinging her bag at him. He jumped back, and she ran, away from them, and out the door. She could hear their calls behind her, but she didn’t look back, a mistake that could cost her her life.
∗ ∗ ∗
She didn’t know. Couldn’t she see the red, smoky whispers as she ran? The faint calls of the flowers? Didn’t she know that her inner spirit had awakened? She should have looked behind her and saw the shimmering red smoke that followed her. If she had, she would have recognized what it meant. Would have stopped in her tracks and calmed down. But she didn’t.
She could have looked behind her, and seen the red smoke shaping and forming into an enormous white tiger. Even if she had, she may not have known what it meant. Her spirit wasn’t a dragon, like her grandmother’s. She had never seen her own spirit. If she had, she would have finally known that it was a tiger. She would only look back when her spirit vanished into the forest.
She stopped hours later, gasping for breath, glancing over her shoulder. She had run through the forest, and a faint red haze circulated around her, but she gave it off for the night sky. She curled into a ball and did her best to sleep, but it was cold, and her thoughts haunted her.
Talpohg was the last…
She is a Hyakin…
You have powers not seen since the Dynamo…
You're too young to know about the Dynamo, you’ll learn soon enough…
You’re too weak….
The last word echoed in her head.
Weak
Weak
Weak
“Shut up!” She shouted aloud in frustration, and the voice instantly stopped.
Without the voice, it was a bit easier to sleep, although it returned in her dreams.
The sun was halfway through the sky when she finally woke again, rubbing her eyes and looking around. Her clothing was wet, and she looked up, noticing that dark clouds were above her, just beginning to move away. She lay there for a moment, letting the rain sprinkle down on her, spiraling down from the sky. She stood up, and looked behind her, noting where the village was - behind her.
She could see the Viper port, easily identifiable because of the huge ships taking flight and landing, one after the other, like bees buzzing in a hive. That was where she was going. She quickly took a mental snapshot of the scene, studying it for a moment, noting the large crowds easily visible from her vantage point, calculating when they would arrive at different points.
She couldn’t make another mistake. That privilege was long gone, and, as far as she was concerned, wouldn’t reappear for some time. She mapped out her route in her mind, then started down the hill, sliding down the slippery grass and leaves.
With a pang, she remembered a time when she was young, carefree, sliding down, collecting flowers as she slipped and slid down the grassy hill, closely pursued by her mother, who chased after her, calling her name again and again, laughing as she ran… She threw thoughts of her childhood away, and continued down the hill, though she couldn’t help thinking about what might have happened if her parents hadn’t died. If she wasn’t a Hyakin, wouldn’t she be –
A gunshot pierced the silence, and by instinct, she jumped to the ground, a bullet passing right where she had been milliseconds before. How could they have found her so fast?
More gunshots. She unhooked her Shibuki and shot back, hearing the thump as her pursuer’s lifeless bodies hit the ground. She shot again, and again, edging slowly away. She could hear the thump of footsteps towards her, and she cocked her gun to shoot again. She looked up.
They were standing over her, guns pointed at her heart. She brought her own gun to point at them, well aware of the fact that she had one bullet left. At least they didn’t know that. She glanced behind her, searching for an escape route, but there was none - only more soldiers. To her left and right, she could see more soldiers moving, closing in on her.
“Don’t shoot.” A soldier commanded, pushing his way to stand in front of her.
He kicked at her Shibuki off-handedly, and it shot, the one remaining bullet falling far away.
“General Ruderalis said to bring her in alive.” The head soldier stared at her, and she met those cold, unforgiving eyes.
And she saw.
Finally, after all the years… She Saw. And she understood.
All those years.
Her uncle had, instead of harming her, unknowingly grown her power.
These whip scars… they meant something. They were related to her spasms. She wasn’t sure how she knew. Only that she could visualize a connection between the two, feel it. As though it was winding through other colored strings, connections. There were repeat colors… but never another white. Then, with a burst, the thread connected to her spasms.
A cracking pain on her hand startled her back from her revelation, as a soldier slammed the but of his gun on her hand. She doubled over in pain momentarily, then straightened out. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Her whip scars glowed white hot.
She crouched, ready to spring.
The soldiers laughed loudly, sparking rage in her. And then it came. A huge white tiger with gaping jaws full of glistening teeth ran at the soldiers. The soldier’s laughs turned to shouts of pain, as the white tiger attacked again and again.
Distantly, she could hear soldiers shouting, “Grab her! Grab her!”
But it was faint. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and felt herself being pulled back, her arms being twisted behind her back, but she kicked as hard as she could and ran to her right, the soldiers scattering in the wake of the tiger.
She kept on running until she fell, landing on cold dirt in front of some sort of grassy cave. She ran inside and heard the thumping overhead of the battle, and lay there, gasping for breath. She couldn’t see what was happening overhead, but she wished she could go, see if her savior, the white tiger, was still there, but she knew she couldn't. She lay there, waiting, wishing with all her might that the tiger was okayfine.
And praying that it wouldn’t come to her.
Gradually, the sounds of the battle faded, leaving her in more doubt and hope than ever. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her mind, but it was hard, as she could hear thumping growing louder and louder, as if something was walking towards her.
Worse, she refused to believe what she had seen. She had no spirit! She was anenigera, a spiritless person. And if she had a spirit, it wouldn’t be a tiger. No, this was something else, perhaps a wild animal come by chance.
Finally, unable to bear it anymore, she opened her eyes, giving up and resigning herself to the fact that she wouldn’t be calm, for a while yet at least. She saw the body first, the overwhelming white, then she saw the face, and she screamed, pressing herself against the wall as much as she could. The tiger seemed to notice her discomfort and took a few steps back. Terrifying images of the tiger springing flicked through Azalea’s mind, one after the other, faster and faster until finally, her mind cleared as she awaited her death.
But it didn’t come. Instead, the tiger lay down comfortably, staring at her… Pleasantly? She shook her head jerkily. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible.
But, somehow, it was happening, right there, in front of her. Then it was fading, as white turned to red, and it was smoke… then it was gone, leaving only a bit of red smoke floating where it had been…
∗ ∗ ∗
She called desperately, as she saw the strangers collapsing. “Please! I need help! I need answers! What happened here?” No answer, only the sound of the waves crashing against the black rocks. She spun around desperately, searching for any living person, but there was none… She couldn’t see her parents… Were they dead? There was no way… They had eyes like hers! She refused to admit it, even though she saw countless of her kind, her eyes, sinking down into pools of their own blood, their magnificent spirits slowly disintegrating into red smoke, forming a skull, and then solidifying. She ran, but the skulls were crumbling, then exploding with showers of red light. She sank to the ground,
∗ ∗ ∗
So finally she knew something. She was a Hyakin, was the last, at least of the Moonstone, and had even witnessed the deaths of other Hyakins. And she knew she had some sort of power that someone wanted.
A General Ruderalis.
And he wanted her alive. She felt that she should be able to piece more things together, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t come up with anything besides the fact that her inner spirit was a tiger.
A white tiger, come to that.
The rarest of all spirits, the white tiger, unlike other spirits, had a mind of its own. All other spirits were merely extensions of a Hyakin’s mind. But a white tiger spirit was different. A white tiger held not only a mind bond, but also an injury bond. Any harm that came to one would come inevitably to the other. And a white tiger could form a bond with its Hyakin. A true bond of friendship. A white tiger could be bound not only through fate, but also through love.
But still, that didn’t explain how the soldiers had found her so fast. She must have left some kind of trail, but nothing that would be easy for them to find. It was almost as if she had let a string unravel behind her, and the soldiers had simply followed. But then again, she had no string, nor anything even similar to string.
So had it been something like smoke? But then again, she didn’t have anything–
Her mind jolted, and she began to pace up and down the cave, searching her memories. She had seen red smoke fading away from the dead bodies of her mother and father… Hadn’t they told her something about it?
To watch her anger, because her energy would emerge and spew out of her?
Maybe that was it. Everything was clicking into place. She had been angry, that much was obvious. The smoke had drifted out of her, leaving a red, smoky trail behind her as she ran…
So she had to guard her emotions tightly from now on, constantly look behind her and wonder whether she had left a trail. She couldn’t let what had happened earlier happen again.
She had a feeling that the soldiers wouldn’t delay as long the next time.
She exited the cave, scaling the rocks with some difficulty, and emerging above the hidden cave. She glanced at the place that her Shibuki had been, and began to crawl towards it, keeping as low to the ground as she could in case there were still soldiers. She managed to grab her Shibuki, hearing the saddening clang of the empty gun. She could see a dead soldier up ahead, and, much as she hated to, she needed bullets. Before the other part of her brain could convince her not to, against her better judgment, she clambered to the dead soldier, and stood there for a moment, clutching her stomach, torn whether she should puke or not.
Eventually, she swallowed and turned back to the task at hand.
His blood coated his vest, the thickest amount exactly where she needed to reach inside and grab the bullets from. It was his only pocket.
Squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her non-burned fist, she shoved her hand inside, reaching around in the sticky blood for a box of bullets. She found a box, and pulled it out, gasping.
She rolled away from the body, and a nauseating feeling passed through her and back away.
Her hand dripped with blood. The box was coated but she knew that the bullets would be fine. She shakily moved away, wiping her hand on an old blanket until it was – almost – back to normal. It still smelled and looked terrible. At least it was cleaner.
She loaded her gun back up again and stood up.
Her whip scars dimmed, unnoticed.
“There she is!” someone shouted from the forest. She spun around to look. Elijah and Wyatt were racing towards her. They must have followed the smoke, too.
They skidded to a halt a few feet away.
“Thank goodness you're alive! When we saw the soldiers we thought –'' Began Elijah, trailing off as she began to walk away.
She didn’t want them here. It was too dangerous. It added problems that she didn’t want.
“You can’t come. Without you, I only have myself to sacrifice, I don’t have to worry about–”
Wyatt stepped forward, staring at her with his piercing eyes. “You do realize that the fate of not only Icarius, but the entire galaxy, maybe even the universe, rests on you?” He jabbed a finger at her.
“But do you care? No! Not one little bit!” She kept on backing away as he advanced. “The general who wants you isn’t any old general - he is second only to the emperor himself! Do you know who will become emperor if the emperor dies?” He laughed loudly. “There’s a reason the general wants you, girl. Because you alone can kill the emperor.” He laughed again, turning away and walking back to Elijah. “Meet Elijah at the port when the sun is in the middle of the sky.”
He left.
She didn’t move, only watched as he and Elijah left through the forest. He had made her feel guilty. It weighed down on her and prevented her from deciding not to do as he had said.
Almost.
Almost, but not quite.
She glanced up at the sky, using her hand to shield the sun’s rays. She could tell where it was by the purple rays of UV light that shed a glow around the sun. Perfect. The only time the UV rays were visible through the Icarius System was a few hours before noon - now.
She’d have just enough time to get on a Viper.
Alone.
She wrapped cloth around her injured hand, and checked her ripped shirt again, in case the whiplash was visible. It wasn’t, so she gathered her pack and started towards the village.
It was surprisingly easy to get to the village, and much quicker than before. She arrived in no time, just as the first big crowd was passing through the street.
She rolled with the crowd, turning left into a dark alleyway. She continued along the alley, passing the usual shady bars full of drunk people, hearing the boasts. Fighting echoed from a bar behind her, and her pace quickened. It was never good to mingle in these areas, though she didn’t have much choice. She was almost running now - she had less time than she would have liked before Elijah and Wyatt would come. She went faster.
The port was easy to spot. Huge Vipers rose up and down, though it was surprisingly organized. A small pathway leading to each Viper was somewhat carved into the ground. The owners of the vipers leaned against their ships, a smirk on their faces, some smoking. Azalea couldn’t understand why they did that, because only a few minutes after a Viper landed, someone would run up and ask for a ride.
She adjusted her pack and walked to the nearest available ship, calming herself as she walked.
It was fine.
Nobody would recognize her this far away from the town. News couldn’t get out that fast… could it?
A man stood in front of the ship, and she immediately noticed he wasn’t like the others. For one thing, he wasn’t slouching and smoking, and his clothing was relatively clean – much better than the other owners of the ship. He was older than most others, and his face was scarred.
“I want to go to Koruk.” She said, looking up.
The man raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t you think you’re a little too… young to be traveling alone?”
She didn’t waver. “Look, I didn’t ask you to write the story of my life. Can you take me to Koruk or not?”
He looked away. “I guess you can come. 800 Kol. Take it or leave it..”
“I don’t have enough.” She said. She really had 1000 ¤, but she couldn’t tell him that yet.
He cocked his head. “Then I’m not taking you.” She narrowed her eyes, suddenly aware of a red smoke drifting from her body. She bit her lip to push away the smoke, pausing a moment as it settled around her, drifting and making the area thick with… blood?
“Are you taking me or not?” The smoke swirled, then was gone.
“Alright, alright!” said the man, backing away with a feared, or was it a shocked look on his face? The tiger instantly vanished. “How much do you have?”
“600 Kol.”
The man sighed dramatically. “I can’t do it.”
She heard distant shouting and spun around. Wyatt and Elijah were racing towards her.
“Then...” She said, turning back, her mind racing.
She shook her head, and hauled her backpack over her shoulder again, stepping up the rough plank to the ship. “Fine – 800 kol. No questions asked.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Come to think of it, I do have space for a couple more people.
“No!” she shouted, then bit her lip as he jumped back in surprise. “I mean – fine. 1000 Kol to get me there alone.”
He nodded, and the ship’s entry ramp swung open. She thought she could hear footsteps behind her, but when she turned around there was nothing.
She glanced at her Pinpointed arm with a sinking feeling. It had spread past her, and was nearly halfway up her upper arm. She would have to find a way to treat it - her arm was barely able to move already.
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Chapter 4: A life full of nothing
An explosion ripped through the air, seeming to tear a hole through reality itself. Azalea jumped to her feet, but almost immediately fell down again. The ship shook violently, and she grabbed onto the control table’s rails, pulling herself up and making her way toward the cockpit. She thrust away the curtains, and let go of the rails, managing to make her way to the man. He sat rigid, concentrated, and spoke without turning away from his controls.
“We’re under attack.”
She sighed. “I know.”
The man turned around to look at her, disbelief etched over his face like wallpaper, but Azalea couldn’t help noticing that his hands continued to manipulate the controls, spinning away from the bullets. Her eyes widened for a second, but it was enough. He spun back to his controls.
Only one person could be so calm right now. Only one type of person could manipulate flight controls in the midst of a battle with their eyes shut while having a conversation. And that was…
Another explosion ripped through the mental barrier enveloping them.
“It’s a Drog!” was the last thing she heard the pilot shout before the world was enveloped in flaming red, followed by a great and terrible darkness, one she knew more than she would have liked.
Something pressed against her arm, hard, and she opened her eyes.
“Don’t move.” The command was firm, and edged with the slightest bit of concern. Azalea struggled to remember what had happened, her eyes slowly adjusting to the light. A figure stood over her, and she quickly took in their appearance.
Jet-black clothing, with maybe the slightest edge of blue covered their body. They wore a mask, concealing their entire face, the only place left uncovered being the eyes. Pain rushed through her arm, but as she turned her head to look, she met a long, thin piece of metal, which curved around her head, fitting it so she couldn’t see beyond her head. Similar metal guards were on her injured hand. They pushed against her arm, and pain jolted through her again.
“Wha–” Azalea began.
“No. Don’t talk. Not yet.” The figure said, increasing the pressure on her arm. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to break. Her hand stung terribly, a pain unlike the numb pain she had grown to accept. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, hard, and felt the warm, metallic taste of blood. As if on cue, the pain slowly eased.
“Who are you?” She spoke quickly, in case the pain came again.
“A friend.” was the figure’s reply.
The pain returned, harder this time, knocking the breath out of her, and she chose not to continue the conversation, concentrating on not screaming.
She thought she could see a faint red smoke, but couldn’t feel much emotion – besides pain, if that could be called an emotion. And the smoke was darker than hers… The pain shook the thought from her mind as it engulfed her in its merciless grasp.
Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the pain slowly eased from her arm, like a deep breath out.
“You can move now.” The figure stood up, extending their hand. Azalea grunted, and refused the hand, trying to get up, but she fell back again. Clenching her teeth, she tried again, to no avail.
“It’ll be easier to take my hand.” The figure said. Azalea didn’t answer, breathing heavily. In, out. Then again – In, out. She tried to get up again, then gasped from the pain, clenching her teeth to hold a scream in. The pain was unbearable.
Finally, the figure sighed, and grabbed her hand, tightening their grip, and pulling her up. Azalea staggered back, and coughed, glancing at her hand.
The metal from the Pinpoint had gone from her hand, leaving metal only on her fore finger.
She started to fall back down, but the figure grabbed her, steadying her. They produced a small ball a bit smaller than a fist, and held it out to her. It was orange, but not a normal orange. As though an orange fluid was swishing inside, swirling around and around, though his hand was steady.
“Take this. It’ll help with the pain.”
She considered refusing it, but the pain was rising. She threw the ball into her mouth, worried she wouldn’t be able to swallow it. But her worries ebbed away as it dissolved, leaving a strange tickling sensation in her mouth.
Her legs still felt wobbly, but at least she wasn’t unconscious.
The figure allowed her to lay more wait on them, holding her up.
The only thing holding me up right now, Azalea thought.
The voices started again.
Weak…
You see, we were right, you know.
You will always be so…
Weak.
She shook her head to get rid of them, and they fell away, though they left a clear message that they would return.
“What happened to your hand?” Asked the figure, gesturing toward her injured hand. Azalea didn’t answer, instead asking the question again.
“Who are you?”
“Like I said before, I’m a –” the figure began, obviously irritated.
“No, who really are you? What’s under the mask?” Azalea interrupted. The figure sighed, and without answering pulled off their mask, the cloth seeming to melt at their touch. Azalea gasped – she couldn’t help it. The figure had gray hair, piercing eyes, and what must have once been a handsome face was scarred, and bloodied. He was in his mid thirties, maybe forties, she decided. But most striking was a particular scar that ran from beneath his left eye to the right corner of his mouth.
It reminded her of her whip scars.
“My turn now.” the man said. “What happened to your hand?” Azalea didn’t move. She didn’t know if she could trust the man, even though he had probably saved her life. She probably couldn’t outrun him either. The man’s eyes narrowed. “Well? Not everyone burns their hand until it’s black. What happened?” His voice was forceful and concerned at the same time, more of a request than anything.
Still Azalea delayed, her eyes darting around, searching for an escape route in case she needed one. The man stepped forward as though he was reading her thoughts, and grabbed her arm.
So much for escaping, she thought. The metal from the Pinpoint laser had come off – how she didn’t question, but her arm stung terribly where it had been. “I–” She started, trying to break free. His grip tightened.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I took away the metal on your hand. That sort of thing spreads – one more day and your arm would have been consumed – a couple days and you’d be dead. I’m surprised you stayed alive as long as you did. You’re lucky to only have one finger covered now – at least it won’t spread anymore.”
She bit her lip. He was right.
“I helped you, even showed you a secret my kind don’t unveil easily. Now tell me. What happened?”
Azalea studied him for a moment longer. He probably wouldn’t have helped her if he had wanted her dead. She bit her lip, bursting out the words.
“I was Pinpointed, okay?” She said angrily. His arm dropped. He stared at her for a moment. “What do you mean, Pinpointed?” He seemed calmer, even curious, but still wary.
She gritted her teeth. “I was being chased. I had to pull the laser off before it…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish, but he seemed to know what she was talking about.
“How many?” he asked.
She shrugged. “About 10 people. Give or take.” He nodded.
“I never correctly answered your question before. My name is Flint. I’m a pilot. Where are your parents?”
Azalea could feel tears brimming in her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly, leaving her eyes faintly red, and her mouth dry. She hadn’t had water since being at… She shook the memory away. He looked at her, and she looked away.
“You don’t have any anymore, do you?”
She didn’t answer. She could taste blood in her mouth again, then pinched herself. What was she doing?
“Can you take me to the testing to get into flight school? I need to get there.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take you to the place where half of the deaths occur in the solar system? A place where only 5% of people make it out alive?”
He saw her hesitate, and used it to his advantage.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that place is?”
She looked him in the eye. “If you made it out, so can I.” He started to protest, but she interrupted him quickly.
“The pilot, Har. I don’t know where he is…”
He stopped her, and for a moment she saw a glimmer of emotion shadow his face.
“Har was… everything to me. But I know that there was only one life-saver seal with him. He died to protect you. And I’ll do the same.”
He looked up for a moment, staring into space.
“Your friend… He’s alive.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t have any friends. I never have.”
The man smirked, but before he could answer, a voice from behind her spoke. “And now you have two.”
She spun around to look. Elijah – the same boy from before – stood, a matching smirk on his face.
“Since when are you here? And what do you want?”
He shrugged knowingly. “I got into the ship right before it took off.”
She gritted her teeth angrily. “Go away.”
The man raised his eyebrow, but made no comment. Elijah shrugged. “I’ve been told worse things.”
“I said go away, dammit! I don’t want you to be part of this. Any of you! I have enough on my hands keeping myself alive!”
Elijah stepped back, surprised by her outburst. Even she was surprised, though she wouldn’t let it show. She looked down, sighing, and shook her head. “Don’t you see? He’ll use you against me. And then… You’ll just die. And I… I’d have to live with it. And I don’t want that.” She looked up. “I don’t want that at all.”
The man sighed. “Are you still thinking of going to flight school?”
She spun back and narrowed her eyes.
“How did you—”
“Har forgot to turn off his private radio.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re not stopping me.”
He smiled easily. “Of course not. However, who says you’re going to flight school… alone?”
∗ ∗ ∗
She sank to the ground, breathing heavily, tears streaming down her face. Nobody she knew had ever died. Now here she was. Standing there. Unable to save them, only watch them die, their bodies slowly fading, leaving only a skull, drifting beside the shades of red. A silent world. A new world. A world she didn’t know, didn’t want to know - couldn’t know. As if in slow motion, she turned her head to the left, tears still falling freely, her eyes wide, mud mixing with tears. And then she saw. With a strangled gasp, she fell to her stomach again, but managed to get up. And she ran.
∗ ∗ ∗
She still didn’t know if she could trust him.
Then again, she didn’t know if she could trust herself.
His words kept coming back to her. Har was… everything to me. He died to protect you. An ache for the dead pilot spread through her, and she couldn’t define the feeling that swept through her. How he had saved her life, with no hesitation.
Flint – the pilot – suddenly jolted to a stop in front of her, and pushed her behind him, pulling out a small, iridescent blue stick that he must have had up his sleeve the entire time. He flicked something on the stick and it turned red. He pointed it ahead.
Though the stick was barely 5 inches, she sensed it was powerful enough to kill.
She squinted from behind him, barely making out 3 figures, walking towards them. Each was holding a stick like his, each stick red. He waited until they were close enough to see clearly and easily before he spoke. “Close enough.”
The figures stopped. Azalea could see that they were all wearing similar clothing to the man. Masks covered their faces, the same as he had. Could they be pilots? If that was true, then the books she had studied about Pilot Masks’s diagrams was off. Then again, they had probably only published late models. They wouldn’t want enemies learning how they built the masks.
In addition to a long-term oxygen flow and other equipment, the masks were designed to cushion a pilots head when they wore helmets. Which probably meant that all four of them had just come back from flying.
If they were pilots, that was.
They stopped, and removed their masks, showing scarred faces. They were all about as old as the pilot, and lowered their sticks deliberately, flicking some switch. The sticks turned blue again, and they tucked them away.
“Flint.”
The man closest to them spoke with certainty and calm.
The pilot – or rather, Flint, slowly lowered his stick.
“Clay?”
“Thank the gods, you’re back!” cried Clay. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Azalea turned to Flint accusingly. “How long have I been out?”
Flint bit his lip and was silent.
She narrowed her eyes. “I deserve to know.”
Finally, Flint gave in. “A week, maybe two. But it doesn’t matter now. You’re alive.”
The other three people – Clay included – rushed forward.
“Flint? Who’s this?”
Silence.
Elijah spoke quickly, his words washing over her.
Azalea stepped back hesitantly, a red smoke growing around her. She banished it quickly, but not fast enough. Clay’s eyes widened, and he turned to Flint.
“Where are you going?”
She could see warning in Flint’s eyes, his doubts echoing in his steady, yet mounted voice.
“The T.”
Clay nodded, and turned, calling to the other two people.
“Go back, and tell them we’ve found Flint!”
They nodded, and turned, running back the way they had come. Clay turned back.
“Where’s Har?”
Flint shook his head, and looked down. Urgency. Desperation. Worry. Yet it was clear Clay needed to know.
“Where is he, Flint?”
“He’s dead.” Azalea said, and a feeling of sadness washed over her. No. She had abandoned that emotion long ago. She couldn’t let it back!
Clay swung his head to look her in the eye. She held his gaze. He turned back to Flint, desperation marked through his eyes, his face.
“Flint?”
Flint made no move to answer. Darkness covered his face.
Flint finally raised his head to look at Clay.
“Nos eam tuendam habemus. Id quod Har voluisset.”
We have to protect her. It is what Har would have wanted.
Clay nodded slowly. Flint stepped back. “We should keep moving. Daybreak is when they come out.”
“They?” wondered Azalea, but she received no answer.
“She’s armed.” commented Clay offhandedly.
Flint nodded, his stick bright red, pointing ahead. Clay fell back, forcing Azalea and Elijah between them. The group felt weighted with sorrow, Azalea thought. As though they were wading through an ocean that was determined to crush them. Her hand drifted to the handle of her Shibuki, uncocking the safety lock.
Safety no longer existed around her, that much was certain.
A red smoke began to drift around her, and she stopped moving suddenly. She needed to stop her fear.
Easier said than done, she thought bitterly, as the red smoke began to form into a tiger.
Clay and Flint were staring at each other in disbelief, and she scrunched her eyes shut to block out everything.
A world of darkness.
Then a world of light.
Blue, Gold, Red, Purple, Pink, Black, White…. The colors swirled in her mind, faster and faster, becoming a pinwheel of desperation.
She opened her eyes quickly, gasping for air. The red smoke was fading, no longer bleeding from her mind. She was safe… for now, at least. She looked up. Clay and Flint were standing over her, a hand - she couldn’t tell who’s - was held over her forehead.
It was so cold.
“Damn!”
Silence, then:
“Are you alright?” Flint’s voice broke the last thread holding her in semi-consciousness. She was lying on the ground, Flint and Clay huddled over her. “I–” A sudden pain shot through her head, like an invisible dagger splitting through her mind. She clutched her head, groaning, falling to her knees.
Something soft and squishy touched her forehead and the pain slowly eased.
Flint held a fluorescent green circle that seemed to be a slime of sorts. It drooped from his hand, though it didn’t quite fall, and he spun it until it became a circle before pocketing it.
“Horizon.” he said in answer to the unspoken question. “It collects pain and stores it… But the pain breaks out after a while. And whoever holds it…”
She nodded, and got to her feet slowly.
She felt dizzy, and weak.
Flint caught her before she could fall, and held her for a moment.
“Take it easy.”
She saw Elijah’s face next, edged with concern, but he made no move to come towards her.
Then she saw that Clay had a hand on his shoulder.
Clay suddenly spun, pointing his red stick at the trees to their left. He made a quick movement, and the stick turned white. A flash of gold, and a thud. Flint turned quickly, and his eyes narrowed.
“Just a fox.”
Clay turned back, his stick turning red again.
“We need to keep moving.”
Flint nodded, and turned back towards the road.
“Come on. Vace is just ahead.”
“Vace?” Azalea repeated questioningly.
Clay answered. “Sharlon’s caves. Famous for many reasons, good and bad. He was one of the first pilots. He created a safe place for pilots moving from one place to another. Some call it a rebel post, but it’s just a bunch of planes that used to be guarded by pilots.”
Clay sighed heavily, but continued. “Trouble is, Sharlon changed. He was stripped of his badges, and exiled. He wouldn’t let it go. While he was still here, he called upon his father… Hyakin.”
Flint whipped his stick through the air, letting light rule for a few seconds, then added to the explanation. “Hyakin had a sort of… power, you could say. Whenever he was angry, a snake would materialize from thin air. He cursed Koruk with Lyns. Terrible creatures that filled the forest and his own caves, made of a cursed vapor, a cursed smoke, capable of stealing and feeding on your spirit, destroying all that makes you a person. The Lyns are always hungry, cursed by a man who, when he created them, was no more mature than you or I.”
Flint paused, his eyes clouded with emotion. “When Sharlon realized what he had done, he tried to stop it. Hyakin, his father, died saving his son… And Sharlon committed suicide.”
Azalea didn’t notice that they had finished talking. She was lost in thought, as though she could finally see a piece of her broken puzzle, a piece that had eluded her for so long.
Sharlon’s father’s name was Hyakin… My clan is the Hyakin.
Is it possible that I am descended from him?
That would mean….
“Azalea?”
…That the same blood flows through my veins.
Am I destined to destroy something too?
“Azalea!”
Am I destined to turn wrong?
Am I destined to betray?
“Azalea!”
Something slapped her eyes, and they flickered open. She was on her knees, gasping for air; her heart felt like it had been stopped in its tracks by the realization of how large the puzzle piece had been; no – not one. Many. So many pieces were clicking into place, yet they raised as many questions as they answered, maybe more.
Elijah was on his knees, and so was Flint. Clay had his back to them, standing guard. She dimly registered Flint’s hand on her shoulder, and felt his hand gently lifting her chin. Their eyes met, and her breathing began to slow to its normal pace.
She could see it in his eyes. He knew. And he was still helping her.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
She shook her head. “No…”
“It’s too hard on you now. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“You shouldn’t be doing this.” Elijah’s voice. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have to…”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I have to.”
Flint pulled her up. “This shouldn’t be happening to you.” He paused, and for a moment she thought she could see something in his eyes, almost like a youth she had never known, though each memory fell away just as it seemed it would finally focus. He stood, and his face flickered to its default of no emotion.
Clay broke the silence, his words seeming to echo through the suddenly quiet forest.
Unnaturally quiet.
“We can’t stop anymore. It’s been too long.”
Flint held up his stick again at arm’s length.
“I know.”
Their feet made a squelching sound as they passed through the mud, the silence seeming to push back at them, and the dim light of the forest cast shadows that seemed to be alive. As though the forest were trying to scare them away.
Flint suddenly began to walk faster, and Azalea hurried after him, Clay bringing up the rear. They were running now, their breath coming in short gasps. It didn’t matter that red smoke was pouring out of her.
Because right now, her only thought was to get away from the terrible shadows closing in on her.
Suddenly Flint’s stick turned white, and a flash of gold flashed around them.
There were too many shadows.
And not enough people to make them.
Azalea pulled her Shibuki out quickly, pointing it at an approaching shadow, and firing. The shadow collapsed but continued to approach.
The red smoke vanished as she concentrated on fighting.
More flashes of gold light, and she shot again. The shadow buckled over and lay still.
“They’re here.” Flint shouted, his voice barely audible over the sudden wind.
She shot again, and again, but the shadows seemed to never stop coming.
“I’ll hold them off!” Clay shouted over the wind, not pausing to breathe.
“Get her to safety! I’ll meet you at base, I swear!”
Flint hesitated, hitting another shadow as it approached.
“Go on, damn it! Go!” cried Clay.
Flint finally nodded, and grabbed Azalea’s arm, pulling her along as he ran. She gasped, sweat streaming from her face, mixing with blood.
And ran.
Red smoke was drifting behind her, but she quickly banished it, her mind void, free of emotions.
This was what it felt like to be an Eliv, a slave to the lords.
A hyakin.
She had never thought of the poor Elivs as badly off.
They were simply those that did the dirty work, those that worked all day cleaning streets, and sometimes got nothing to show for it.
No emotion.
This was how they felt. And this was how her mother and father must have felt. Without emotion.
Gaining, then losing. Then gaining again.
A cold hand gripped hers, and she pulled away, sprinting faster, harder. She wouldn’t become an Eliv, a non-emotion, a slave. She would not clean the streets like the others.
She would swear on that.
Flint turned sharply, throwing something on the ground. An explosion ripped the ground, tearing her from her thoughts. Shrieks of agony and pain filled her mind, and she ran even faster, glancing behind her. The shadows were still following, bigger than she remembered.
A gold and red orb hung behind them - it must have been at least six feet long. She could make out shadows writhing inside, and she turned back, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
It was just run – then run harder, faster, until her lungs were screaming, begging for breath, but she could not give it to them, not yet, not now, maybe not ever, because if she stopped she would be taken and there wouldn’t be any air to give, but still she felt that if only she could stop a moment, lay back and rest, everything would be fine. But she knew nothing would be fine, not now, maybe not ever after this, so she kept running, gasping, running, gasping…
Then she fell, and was being pulled along by some unknown carrier; blackness was closing in on her, they were moving too fast for her to breathe.
Finally they exploded into a dimly lit passageway, and she heard a door slam behind them. When had there been a door? The sound of pounding came from behind them, and Flint skid to a stop, catching her as she fell to the ground. He handed her a small stone, like the one he had given her earlier. It was round, and a bluish purple.
“Here. Swallow this.”
She lay unmoving, unable to look at him, trying to breathe, though it seemed impossible. Anything would be better than this – her lungs felt beaten flat, as though they weren’t there, and she rolled over onto her side to breathe easier. She coughed, then lay for a while - it seemed like a thousand years.
Finally, when she recovered enough strength to look at him, he pulled her up, supporting her, and nodded at the stone.
“You’ll regain some energy. Trust me.”
He took another stone from his pocket and dropped it in his mouth, swallowing.
She did the same, then gasped in shock. It was as though fire was burning down her throat. She couldn’t breath, only clutched her chest. It slowly settled at the bottom of her throat, and all her pain left her.
This was definitely not like whatever he had given her before.
She felt a burst of energy, and stood up shakily.
“What –” She began, but Flint answered before she could finish.
“A Meld. The effects will begin to wear off after a while, but you won’t go unconscious from too much energy spent.”
The pounding behind them stopped. He glanced behind them. “We have to keep going. They’ll come around and try to stop us from there. We have to get to the planes before they do.” Elijah stood up shakily, his voice a whisper.
“How?”
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Chapter 5: The Caves of Sharlon
“It’s the only way.” Azalea said, exasperated.
“No! You are not going to be a diversion!” shouted Flint for what seemed like the umpteenth time.
“Then what do you propose instead?” snapped Azalea. “It’s not like they’ll take another bait!”
Flint shook his head. “Anything but that.”
Elijah sighed. “We’ve been through this already. Azalea, you’re not going to bait them. Flint, you can’t bait them because you’re the only one capable of actually flying the plane. Which means that I’ve got to do it, because–”
Azalea got up, and walked to the stone door on the other side. “You really think it’s that easy, do you?”
Elijah rolled his eyes. “Yes, actually, it is.”
“No it’s not. They won’t go after you. It’s me they want.”
“Are you joking? If it’s you they want then you’re top priority to get into that jet and get away!” He pointed at the door, his voice rising to a shout. “And even if you were the bait, it’s not like you’d be able to get away anyway!”
Azalea opened her mouth to speak, but Flint cut her off.
“Stop!”
“But –”
“Listen!”
They stopped, and a moment of silence passed. “What?” Azalea demanded, irritated. “Exactly!” said Flint, rising and walking to the door. “Nothing. That could mean two things: Either they’ve given up, and went off to pursue more prey…”
He paused for a moment. “Or, they’re standing outside, listening to every word we say.”
Azalea and Elijah gasped at the same time.
Flint rapidly knocked on the door, three times.
Shrieks issued, and faded rapidly. Wings beat, farther away, and then back again.
Flint grimaced. “They’re smarter than I’d like… they pretend to fly away, but circle back every time.
He stopped talking, and pulled out a slip of paper, writing quickly.
We need to make a plan quickly. The longer we wait, the more their numbers grow.
Elijah took the pen.
I’ll distract them, and you run. I’ll find you at the plane.
Azalea shook her head, and mouthed the word No. Elijah handed her the pen, rolling his eyes. Azalea wrote quickly, then handed the paper back to Flint.
Maybe if I concentrate enough, I can summon my inner spirit…. The tiger. I don’t think it can die, so it will distract them long enough for us to get into the plane.
Flint frowned, then gave a sharp nod, passing the paper to Elijah. Elijah didn’t seem to like the idea, but he nodded.
If that doesn’t work we go with my plan.
Azalea gritted her teeth, but finally nodded, passing the paper to Flint, who stood up, and tucked the paper away.
“Concentrate” he whispered. “Think of your dreams. Think of your parents. And think how the Lyns are stopping you from accomplishing what you want most.”
She nodded, and shut her eyes.
Images swirled in front of her. Her parent’s corpses. Her grandmother’s determined face. The fire. The soldiers. Har. Clay. Flint. Elijah. Wyatt.
She fell to the ground on hands and knees, gasping for air, sweat covering her face.
Flint crouched beside her, disappointment on his face.
“You’re too weak.”
Elijah started to talk, but Flint stopped him, whispering something about why he needed to make her angry on purpose.
She was giving in. She hated being weak. Hated being dependent. Hated the Lyns behind the door. Hated everything.
Red swirled behind her, and she scrunched her eyes shut, one word in her mind.
Tiger.
She heard Elijah gasp, but she pushed him from her mind.
The smoke was taking form… It seemed like eternity but in reality it was hardly a second.
Her mind exploded, and power flew through her. She stood up. Her eyes were red – she knew it.
She turned to look at Flint, a smile creeping onto her face.
“I think I did it.”
Flint nodded, sorrow glimmering in his eyes. She thought she could see his memories flash in front of her, too fast to make anything out, but when she shook her head, they were gone.
Flint stood up quickly. “We won’t have much time. Run and don’t stop.”
They nodded quickly, and Flint stood at the door, the tiger directly in front of him.
Flint glanced back at them, before throwing the door open. With a roar, the tiger burst into the other room, the shadow-like creatures screeching.
They ran as fast as they could, Flint bringing up the rear, occasionally throwing something on the ground. Azalea could hear wings behind her, and sped up.
Her spirit couldn’t fight them all.
A jolting pain shot through her arm, but she ignored it, running faster. Harder.
Another pain, through her ankle this time. She cried out, but kept running.
She glanced behind her, surprised to see none of the Lyns following her. Flint was keeping them at bay, gold flashing again and again. She gasped as pain shot in her chest, and she fell to the ground.
What was happening to her?
Her spirit’s wounds shouldn’t affect her!
She felt a cold hand grab hers’s, and the world flashed as she sunk into unconsciousness.
∗ ∗ ∗
It was her mother - she was sure of that. Blood covered her mother’s body and face, but she would have recognized her anywhere. The once-bright brown eyes that flickered and fell, the torn and burnt brown hair. “Mother!” she shouted, dropping beside her. A skull beside her mother told her everything she needed to know about what had happened to her father. She shouted in grief, but turned back to her mother desperately. She tried to talk but couldn’t. She choked and cried out again in agony. “You have been brave, Azalea… Haiku was so proud of you… Turn back – trap…” Azalea shook her head. “I… Don’t understand… Who is Haiku? And why? Mother, please!” Her mother was falling through her fingers like water… slipping away from her.
∗ ∗ ∗
“You have a habit of passing out, don’t you?”
A voice… eerily familiar, though she couldn’t place it.
Elijah’s face spun into view.
“Though,” he commentedcontinued, “I guess you stayed awake longer than I would have.”
Azalea sat up quickly, glancing around her. “What happened? I saw…” She trailed off.
She had seen her mother walking towards her with a smile she knew so well. Her mother had talked to her, her words echoing through her mind, cutting her heart into a thousand pieces.
Have strength, my child… Have strength.
Her mother had disappeared then… In some ways she wished she was unconscious, to see her mother’s face again, to hear her voice…
“What did you see?”
She turned in her seat. Flint was looking at her, his hands moving quickly, manipulating the controls.
“I…”
She paused, and fought back tears. She wouldn’t cry, no matter what.
“My mother… she said…” She trailed off as images swirled.
They didn’t know what she saw in her dreams.
The rows of dead Hyakin.
Her mother’s fading spirit.
The falling bodies, joining those whom had already mixed with the dirt.
Ashes…
The screams of the dead.
The taste of blood in her mouth…
How could they understand?
Elijah reached for her but she moved away. “I… Never mind.”
Flint turned in his seat, abandoning the flight controls. She expected him to insist on her telling them, but he didn’t.
“Sometimes,” he said quietly. “You feel you are weak, and maybe to other people you are. But remember this. Strength isn’t the absence of pain. It is the bearing of the pain.[ FIX THIS ] Because nobody can live their life unharmed.”
She nodded, and swallowed the lump in her throat, turning to look ahead. Into the clouds. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, though she wasn’t sure they could hear her. She looked directly at Flint, suddenly sure he could hear her. “I’m sorry… for everything.”
He made no move to show he had heard her, but she knew he had.
Her world abruptly stopped as she fell, time moving beside her, launching her into the dream world, the vision clear against her heart.
A cloaked figure approached her, cackling, in its hand a broken lantern.
“Look into the flame, little girl.” It hissed. “For the future lies there….” It laughed again, a terrible, choking laugh.
“Just as this lantern is broken, so shall you be…” It laughed again, horribly.
She stepped back, shaking her head. “No, I–”
“Look into the flame, child!” It shouted. “Look into the flame!”
She gasped and tried to run, but couldn’t – as though the shadows were cloaking her, preventing her from moving.
A scream split the silence, and her eyes popped open. She must have fallen asleep on the plane. But that hadn’t been a spasm. It had felt more like a message in a nightmare.
Then another scream resounded through the cockpit.
But the scream hadn’t been hers – it was Elijah’s.
The ship jolted to a stop in mid-air, and Flint turned quickly, and hurried to Elijah. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Azalea shook her head. “I don’t know! One minute he was fine, the next…” Flint’s eyes were wide, and he shook his head.
“I don’t understand…”
Elijah’s screams grew louder, deafening.
“Can’t you use the Horizon?” Shouted Azalea desperately over Elijah’s screams.
Flint checked quickly for the green slime, but his hands were empty when they emerged. “Damn everything! It must have dropped when we were running!” he shouted.
A deafening explosion sounded behind them, and Flint ran to the window.
“We’re being attacked!” he shouted, turning back. “Help me get Elijah into the cockpit!” Azalea nodded, and together they picked Elijah up, taking slow, painful steps.
They set him down on the two seats directly behind Flint’s seat, and Flint flew to the controls.
More explosions sounded from directly behind them as Elijah’s screams grew louder, then abruptly stopped, filling the cockpit with an eerie silence that somehow seemed more foreboding than his screams.
“He’s slipping away!” said Flint, his eyes on his controls.
“What do you mean?” called Azalea over the sound of another explosion. Flint dipped the plane, then shot upwards, narrowly avoiding two more that were coming their way.
“They’ve placed their hold on him – injected a chemical into his veins. Soon he’ll become one of them.”
Azalea gasped in shock. “Isn’t there a way to stop it?”
Flint nodded, and though it was barely a dip of his head, it seemed as though a mountain of hope had fallen to the ground. “The medics at base can stop it. But it’ll delay you if you were planning on doing tests this time around.”
Azalea shook her head. “I don’t care. Just get us to help!”
Flint bent over the controls, shouting as he did so.
“Hold on!”
The plane lurched forward, plasma gushing from its tail wing, and Azalea fell backwards, slamming into the wall heavily.
For a moment she couldn’t breathe – the breath was knocked out over her – but she recovered quickly, and hurried back to Flint, glancing behind her – the ships were still here – they must have used the same thing as Flint. Suddenly Flint dived down, pulling up at the last second.
One of the four ships wasn’t so lucky – it hit the ground, exploding in a beacon of light.
Suddenly Flint swung the ship around, passing underneath the planes. They launched a row of missiles, but hit one of their own ships. The ship fell to the ground, missiles flying everywhere in its wake as it freely hit the ground.
Flint slammed something, and the ship rocketed directly up, knocking the other planes. He pulled out quickly, and flipped, turning directly for the huge looming buildings. The planes were still pursuing them, but they were far away.
Flint glided down, pausing in air and waiting for the “okay” to fly in.
“What are you doing!” Azalea hissed. “Just go through!”
“I can’t.” explained Flint. “I have to wait for them to make sure I’m not trying to infiltrate the base.”
Azalea grabbed the throttle, and pushed it, sending the ship hurtling towards base. She pulled up just in time, turning towards the small garage-looking area, where other planes were parked.
“What are you doing?” shouted Flint, making a grab for the controls, but she held as tight as she could, and spun the ship to an open area, finally releasing the throttle as the ship spun in circles before finally coming to a rest.
Almost instantly, a group of men with guns surrounded the ship.
“Exit your ship with your hands up.”
Azalea had no idea how the voice had gotten into the ship, but at that moment it didn’t really matter. She dashed out before Flint could stop her, and the guns pointed at her.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” demanded one of the men, stepping towards her. He was the only one unmasked.
“My friend – the Lyns took him! We need your help!” Shouted Azalea.
The leader exchanged a glance with the rest of his men.
“How many of you are there?” He demanded.
“Three.” said Flint, stepping out the door. He was carrying Elijah, and he set him on the ground.
“Flint?” one of the men in the masks stepped forward uncertainly. Flint’s gaze lashed onto the man who had spoken.
“Echo?” Flint said, his eyes brightening.
“It is you!” cried Echo, running towards Flint. “God, we thought you were dead!”
Azalea could feel red smoke billowing around her, as other men lowered their weapons, disbelief clearly visible on their faces.
“Flint?”
“I thought you were dead!”
“What happened?”
They shouldn’t be doing this! She thought angrily. Elijah is about to die!
She had never really cared for him, but now, faced with the chance to save his life, she couldn’t leave him to die. Since her parents, she had hated death. And she certainly didn’t want to feel what she had again.
The red smoke that could have been passed off for a trick of the light gathered, easily visible. She thought of calming herself, but now she wanted her spirit to appear.
She wanted it to help her.
To bring her back to reality.
To bring her home.
And suddenly, there it was. It yawned quietly, then padded over to her.
Flint paused suddenly, and walked to stand beside her. “Here. We’ve got to get Elijah inside.”
She nodded, the last traces of her anger gone in an instant. “And,”
Flint continued, his voice dropping, “Whatever you do, don’t look back.”
She nodded, and resisted the urge to glance behind her. She felt their eyes on her, felt their burning gazes.
“Where are the medics?”
She said quickly, before she could give in. He pointed ahead. “First door on the right.”
The medic’s eyes widened when they saw Elijah, but they didn’t ask questions, which Azalea was grateful for.
He was hurried into another room, and they weren’t allowed to follow.
∗ ∗ ∗
“I really can’t believe that you think you’ll get into flight school!” Flint began pacing up and down.
“I’m sorry!” Azalea said for what seemed like the hundredth time. Flint shook his head. “Dammit, for the love of god Azalea, you could have killed somebody! Including yourself!”
She sighed, and put her head in her hands. “I know.” she said quietly. “I just can’t standhate standing by and watchwatching somebody…” she trailed off, but continued. “Somebody dying, and there’s… there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Flint stopped pacing, turning away toward the window. “It’s happened to you before.” There was no question in his voice, merely a statement. He continued with growing certainty, his voice rising ever so slightly. “You’re parents. I should have known – the massacre of the Hyakin.
And to think it was staring me in the face all along… you are…” He inhaled sharply, spinning to stare at Azalea. “...Talpohg’s daughter.”
Suddenly his eyes flashed.
“No wonder I thought I’d seen you before! As soon as Elijah’s recovered – no, sooner than that – we’ve got to get you out of here, quickly!”
Flint seemed to calm suddenly, though his eyes were still wide, unblinking. Even… red?
“No… Not yet. First… Tomorrow.”
“What?” said Azalea, standing up. Flint’s loss of control was affecting her.
“I’ll tell you… tomorrow.” Flint was calming now, his eyes slowly returning to their original state.
“Tomorrow.” He seemed to find calm in the word, and repeated it again several times, his voice growing softer, more measured. “Tomorrow.”
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Chapter 6: Friend or Foe?
She held the ancient piece of wood, the last thing her mother had given her before she’d died. It seemed as though she could feel a heartbeat in it. She self-consciously traced the engraved words on the smooth shape.
Only in great need will I open.
It felt warm in Azalea’s hands, as though alive, holding to her just as she held to it. The same desperateness she’d always known, yet somehow never understood. That feeling… and that name… Talpohg. She racked her mind to remember where she had heard it before.
Not after she had met Flint or Elijah… her eyes involuntarily widened. Of course – she remembered now. Wyatt’s words burst through her mind.
Talpohg was the last, I’m sure of it.
And almost as though it had triggered something, she placed it quickly. The circle of elders at the top of the white rocks. She wished she had listened more to the meeting. She could recall bits and pieces – she thought she could remember them saying something about Talpohg betraying the Hyakin… hadn’t that been the day before the slaughter? She couldn’t remember, no matter how hard she racked her brain for information. She sighed. Flint had been right – sometimes you can’t remember something until you forgot about it.
∗ ∗ ∗
He paused at the window, staring out into space.
“You haven’t told her, have you?” Echo’s pencil gave him a sharp prod as it launched across the room, jabbing his arm painfully. Though pain was the least of his worries…
“Flint.”
He turned, and sighed, his head in his hands. “Echo, we’ve already been over this. It’s best if she doesn’t know. Not until we can trust her, at least. We don’t know how she’s going to turn out.”
“You looked into her future, didn’t you?” Echo demanded. “When you first arrived – you said “Tomorrow”. I know what that means. What did you see?”
Flint sighed. “The future… isn’t always right, Echo. You know – my powers have flaws, like every part of me.”
Echo narrowed his eyes. “But what did you see?”
Flint shook his head. “I... It was...” He whispered what he had seen, leaving Echo shocked, yet refusing to give in. “I don’t care what you saw, Flint. Forget it.”
“Fine.” Flint said. “If we pretend I didn’t look into her future, I still wouldn’t tell her.”
Echo raised his voice instantly. “She has the right to know.” Echo persisted. “You’re her uncle–”
“Not by blood.”
“–and I don’t care if you used to be the General’s henchman!” Echo continued, giving no sign he had heard Flint. “We all served him at one point or another! Dammit, if anyone has a right to know, it’s her! Even if she does turn out - even if she does –, well, if anyone has the right to know, it’s her. For god’s sake, Flint, for once listen to reason! I don’t care that you’re not a Hyakin! I don’t care that we tricked her into thinking you were - it was for her own good! I don’t care that you’re a Nox. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter what you were born to be. It matters what you become.”
“It’s exactly what you said – it’s for her own good. She’ll be happier not knowing!”
“No, it isn’t! You’re just delaying it, letting it build up. You need to tell her now, while she still trusts you! Otherwise it’ll count for nothing, and the world will be as good as dead.”
Flint slammed his fist on the table, green smoke instantly streaming from his body. “Damn you, Echo, I know that!”
A cloud passed over the sun, casting the room in darkness.
Echo stood up suddenly, his voice quiet. “You’ve changed. The old Flint wouldn’t have hesitated.” He turned to leave. “I think I liked the old Flint better.”
The sorrow in his eyes was unbearable.
“Wait.” whispered Flint hoarsely. Echo paused at the door, but refused to turn.
“I – I’m sorry. You’re right, I – I’ve changed, and I…” he couldn’t continue, only sat down heavily.
Echo exhaled, closing his eyes, and swallowing his anger. “I just hope you’re right about this. I don’t need to tell you what happens if you’re wrong.”
Then he was gone.
∗ ∗ ∗
She thought she could feel a heartbeat echoing somewhere in the walls, and the feeling of her mother’s power echoed in her empty soul, but then it was gone, reminding her all too well of the death of her clan. Something in the way Flint had spoken to her, the way that the word Tomorrow echoed in her mind, left her uneasy. She had never really found a reason to trust him, and now it was as though her mind, her spirit, shouted for her to stay away. She stood up, glaring at the security guard, challenging him to follow her. She pulled open the door and left, the metal silencing the security guard as he stood up.
“Ma’am–”
She hurried through the corridors, nearly running, the winding passageway leading to a large, metal door. Without second thought, she pushed open the door, stopping short at the sight. Rows upon rows of single-planes and Vipers, some half-made greeted her, and she noticed rows of bombs, guns, lasers. One ship in particular caught her eye – unlike the others, it was a sphere, with a small amount of straight metal below, allowing it to balance. She moved quickly over, bending to read the small type on it.
Corolair – Prototype 3.
When she looked closer, she could see a slip of paper. She scanned it, tapping nervously on the machine.
To be destroyed June 17, due to malfunction in Zern.
She crumpled the paper and dropped it in her pocket, tapping on the glass of the sphere nervously.
“How may I assist you?”
She jumped backward, then recovered. Three small lines, originally hidden from view, were now glowing a hot red. The power switch?
“How may I assist you?”
A door opened behind her, and she spun around, staring in surprise.
A young girl, about her age, stood in the doorway, each feeling reflected on the girl’s face perfectly.
She had long, brown hair that reached halfway down her back, and hazel eyes with a certain dangerous light to them.
“Who’re you?”
They both said at the same time, then an uncomfortable silence fell.
The newcomer broke the silence. “I’m – Rubela. I didn’t mean to be here. I was just, you know, exploring and–”
She nervously began to back away.
“Wait –!” Azalea cried when the door was half open. The girl turned around in confusion.
“Please don’t call the guards on me.”
She half-whispered, though her voice carried easily to where Azalea stood.
“If you don’t on me.” She said, with a hint of a smile.
The girl raised an eyebrow. “You mean… you’re not supposed to– I mean… What I’m trying to say is… are you new here, too?”
Azalea didn’t try to suppress the smile that broke out on her face. “Yeah. And I have a feeling I’m going to need a friend.”
The girl glanced around nervously. “I heard that machine. I’ve been trying to get it to work for ages, but it doesn’t turn on. How did you get it to turn on?”
Azalea shrugged, unsure. “I’m not sure…”
Her voice echoed, and the door burst open. She spun around, and three workers– mechanics, she assumed – skid to a stop. There was a long silence, in which they stared at each other. Then the door opened again, and Flint walked in, accompanied by the deflated security guard. He recovered quicker than the mechanics.
Azalea slowly exhaled in relief as she noticed the girl slinking away.
At least she wouldn’t get in trouble.
“Azalea? What are you doing here?” His eyes momentarily narrowed, and she had the feeling he was holding back. He didn’t trust her, she thought.
“What are you doing?”
She shrugged. “I was just… I don’t know… exploring? And then this machine started talking to me, and–” She stopped short at the look on Flint’s face. “The machine… talked to you?” He said disbelievingly, crossing to inspect the machine. He turned to the mechanics. “I thought you said the conscious state was failing?”
The mechanics hurried to answer. “Yes, sir, it was–”
“We even put a piece of paper detailing where–”
“The Zern, sir, wasn’t working–”
“Enough!” Flint held up a hand, turning back to the machine. “I don’t see any paper here.”
Azalea pulled out the crumpled paper, and silently handed it to him. He glanced at it, then crumpled it again and threw it on the ground, turning to the mechanics. “How many times have I told you not to destroy prototypes?”
The mechanics shifted from foot to foot nervously, and Azalea suddenly noticed how young they looked – 20, or less.
Then Flint turned to her, and she shrunk under his stare. “Azalea, I can’t believe you were “exploring”. This is the most dangerous base on the planet. I hope you realize that.”
Azalea nodded miserably.
He sighed. “I really thought I could trust you to be more responsible, Azalea.” His words were thick with a mixture of regret, shame, suspicion, even a hint of nervousness?
She crumpled under his words.
“What’s done is done, though. How did you get the machine to work?”
She bit her lip, and turned back to the machine, searching for the three lines. They had disappeared. Nervously, she tapped on the glass. Nothing happened. She tried to remember how she had tapped, but couldn’t. She tried a few random taps, and to her surprise the machine’s cover pulled open.
“How may I assist you?”
The machine’s voice boomed across the room, and she jumped back in surprise. Flint’s brow furrowed.
“Impossible!” shouted a mechanic from behind her. “She must have used sorcery!”
Flint sighed, and tapped the same sequence on the glass. The machine opened its hatch.
“I await your orders.”
The security guard stepped forward, his mouth a thin line. He tapped the same sequence, and the machine’s lights turned off. He tapped again, and nothing happened. He tapped faster, harder, until Flint slapped his hand on his head, then slapped the guards hand away, and stepped forward again, tapping the sequence. The lights of the machine turned on.
She glanced around for Rubela, but she had vanished – presumably into the shadow of the door.
“How may I assist you?”
The mechanics looked at each other in surprise and awe, and the security guard drew breath to speak angrily. Flint held up a hand before he could start talking. “It works,” he said, his voice dangerously soft, “because only a Hyakin can control it.”
Azalea stood up straighter, confused. “But that can’t be right… It worked for you too!”
“Since the Dynamo, only one Hyakin lives. You.” Azalea opened her mouth to ask a question. “My callsign is Flint. My real name is Haiku. And more – You are the last full Hyakin. You need to understand this. It worked for me because I’m a Nox – well, not a full Nox. Sometimes, a couple times a month, I can use my powers.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but Flint beat her to it. “I am not a full Hyakin – I don’t have all their powers – but I have just enough to heal. I–”
He saw her expression and trailed off.
She stood there, mouth open, in shock. Finally her mother’s words were making sense. And then she realized – her mother had thought that Flint – Haiku – was dead.
“You have been brave, Azalea… Haiku was so proud of you…”
Of course! But that didn’t explain why she had gone to live with foster parents – parents that mistreated her, made her call them “uncle” and “aunt”, to avoid arising suspicion… As though he could read her thoughts, Flint answered the unspoken question. “It was safer to let Talpohg’s relatives think I was dead – for your well being.”
“If you truly were my mother’s friend, why couldn’t you be there when she died?” She spat. “My mother died thinking you were dead. Wouldn’t it have been better if you had told her? Shouldn’t you have fought with her, by her side?” Red mist began seeping from her body, but she didn’t care.
“If you truly wanted to keep me safe, you should have kept my mother alive.”
Flint sighed. “You don’t understand, Azalea! One Hyakin, who couldn’t use their powers, wouldn’t have made a difference!”
Azalea backed away. “No… it’s you who doesn’t understand. How would you know anything? Nothing happens to you like it happens to me. Do you know how it feels to wake up one morning and not remember anything? Do you know what it’s like to come back from collecting firewood to find hundreds of bodies dead, and not know whether your parents are there? Do you know how it feels to be called Traitor’s Daughter every two seconds? Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here right now. You should have been beside my mother when she died.”
Flint made to hold her, but the security guard moved first.
“If this is truly Talpohg’s daughter, she is forbidden to be here, under penalty of death. Talpohg’s daughter will, without doubt, follow in his footsteps. The security guard pulled out a gun, and pointed it at Azalea. There was a flash of green, and Flint stood in front of her, his strange stick pointed directly at the guard. The stick was orange, and the guard lay on the ground, unmoving. Flint bent, and pulled him up. “Now that he’s paralyzed…” He pointed the stick at the mechanics. “Breathe a word, and I won’t just paralyze you…” The words hung ominously. They nodded quickly, and hurried to the side of the room, where they began fumbling with a half-made engine.
Flint turned back to Azalea. “I…”
“Go away.” She spat. “Leave me alone.”
Flint sighed, and nodded, turning away. “I’m sorry. You’re right – I don’t know. And I hope to the gods I never will.”
Azalea felt part of her anger melt away. “I’m not sorry… not yet… but maybe I will be later. Thank you.”
He threw the security guard over his shoulder, and turned away, nodding. “Maybe we can make things better. Until then.. Take this.”
He passed her a stick identical to his.
She inspected it.
The stick was barely 5 inches, and glowed blue. The sides looked identical, though one had a faint black line which wound around the tip. Flint pointed to the line. “This is your control line, or ho’omalu. Hold the side without the line, and point it at your target. He pointed to the seemingly plain side.
“This device is amazingly dangerous. It’s called a Pale. This–: your Odrzan, you’re held side.” He pointed to a row of switches directly above her hand. “Each one of these controls what your stick does. This one turns your stick to Idle. Then here, it turns your stick to Alert. Your blows are more fatal when you attack after your stick is in Alert, so if you know you’re somewhere dangerous, keep your stick on Alert. After an attack, your stick automatically turns to Alert, but it’s generally good practice to be on Alert in the first place.
Here – This paralyzes your target, and this last one kills. The larger the target, the more you’ll have to attack. Hold the switch to continuously hit.”
He paused, then turned back to the paralyzed guard. “Remember that when paralyzed, the target can still hear, see, and feel. And remember that paralyzation only lasts a limited amount of time until the subject can break free.” He sighed. “Keep that hidden, and only take it out during life-threatening scenarios.”
She could have sworn she had seen Echo nod at Flint through the glass.
He turned and left, leaving her with her astonishment.
But not quite alone.
Rubela emerged from the shadow of the door nervously, glancing around.
“Quick – Azalea! Over here!” She whispered frantically.
She hurried over, and Rubela didn’t waste time, nodding to the door. “We’ll talk later – come on!”
She slipped the stick up her sleeve, concealing it. She glanced at the mechanics warily, and they immediately spun away from her. She pulled open the door, glancing behind her at the beady-eyed mechanics, before the door slammed behind her.
She understood now, why he had saved her life so many times. What her mother had meant – Haiku would have been so proud of you… She understood everything in a way she never had been able to before.
Then she was gone, running through the distant halls, her footsteps fading away.
And then, like a dying candle, the sound was gone, like everything else in her world.
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Chapter 7: Cast in Chaos: A Reunion
She heard the shouts before she saw him.
The blood spilling onto the polished white stone.
The newly scarred face.
The bruised eyes.
The faint heartbeat, so soft it could have faded long ago.
His eyes turned to look up at her, and she nearly fainted.
All his features formed his name clearly, and yet she couldn’t form the word.
Flint’s voice pulled her from her astonishment, forming the words she could not.
“Clay? Are you–”
His breath came fast, sharp.
“No, Flint… I’m not.”
Then he sank to the ground, his blood rippling and then settling, his heartbeat thinning almost to a stop.
And then it was gone.
She sank to her knees, the tears coming freely, uncaring of the tiger materializing beside her. “Clay…” she sobbed.
She sensed something beside her and turned her tear-stricken eyes. A massive, magnificent eagle alighted on the ground to her left, waddling forward to press its beak on Clay’s cold cheek, faint red light streaming from its body, yet refusing to mix with the new, dark red smoke that had joined her lighter smoke. Her eyes turned to Flint’s, but he refused to meet them. Echo was kneeling beside him. With a start she realized Flint’s eyes were green.
In time you will find your Seventh, Azalea… Until then…
Her grandmother’s words came back to her. Seven different powers. Harmful, burning powers.
The first was the rarest - Nox. Well, not as rare as hers; she was of the Moonstone, wielding all seven powers.
Nox weren’t Hyakin, exactly. They were half- or quarter- breeds, though she preferred not to think of them like that. They healed, and the more powerful ones were amazing. She couldn’t believe that he was a Nox, but if he was… well, that changed everything. Probably today would be one of the days that month that he could use his powers.
But there was another hidden power not many knew of – only the full Hyakins truly knew what it was. She had used it once, and only once – she was afraid to use it again in case of what she might see. It was the power to see the future - well, a Nox could only see part of it by saying Tomorow, and that only let them see into whoever they said Tomorrow to - but someone like her could see everything, if they wanted to.
Hadn’t he said that to her not so long ago?
And it had calmed him, hadn’t it?
But if that was true, and he was a Nox, then whatever damage he chose to disperse would inflict itself on him. She knew too well that nothing was ever truly cured. Only transferred to another body, to wait until it was transferred again.
Flint’s eyes flashed green, then red, then green again, finally settling on a mixture of the two.
“Flint, no–!” shouted Echo as the room erupted into green light. Her eyes snapped shut. After what seemed like an eternity, the light faded and her eyes opened slowly. She was laying on the ground, gasping for air – she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath for so long. She could see others beside her slowly getting to their feet. The room was still bright green, but the light was fading slowly.
Flint lay on the ground, half conscious. His spirit slowly faded, falling into his body, his eyes returning to their normal color. Clay stirred, coughing blood, lying on the ground. “Flint… you shouldn’t have…” he broke off, gasping for air.
Flint grimaced. “Don’t…” His voice faded away.
Azalea slowly went to her hands and knees. Her tiger joined her, but only for an instant, before padding towards Flint, and Clay. It was clear what it was trying to say. ‘Heal them. Or they’ll both die…’
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, hating herself. “I can’t–” She paused, then a slow smile grew. “Actually… I think I can.” She approached Flint first, putting her hands on his chest, and looking up, her eyes closed. She whispered words she had never heard before, somehow just knowing what to say. Wounds disappeared on Flint and appeared on her. She gasped in pain, but ignored it, walking towards Clay. She repeated the process, then cried out as she felt the pain, not only from the wounds, but also from her scars.
Echo finally looked up from Flint and Clay, where he had been staring, transfixed. He spun around, glaring at two medics. “What are you two waiting for? Get them to the Med Chamber!” The two medics who had been staring, transfixed, at Flint and Clay, rubbed their eyes, and hurried forward.
Azalea could only stare as they took her away. Then she closed her eyes, falling into a deep dreamless sleep.
When her eyes opened, Echo was sitting beside her, looking at her, concerned. She tried to stand, but couldn’t. Wordlessly, Echo pulled her up, and she suddenly noticed how young he looked. Was this what her life would be like in a few years? The tiger padded to stand beside her, but she let it stay, leaning on it sorrowfully, trying to breathe.
Echo nodded once, blinking back tears, and bit his lip. “He told you who he was. In his own way.” He nodded thoughtfully, a distant look in his eyes. “At least he told you some of it. Not – not what he saw when he looked into your future. Not what he was before… before all this.”
“He and Clay were always… the leaders… I met him on the way to flight school.” He smiled at the memory. “I thought it would be fun to prank a senior student. He was eight years older than me. I threw an Aqua at him… Clay just managed to stop it – he was only a few years older than me at the time.”
“I’d always hated him. Because of – well, because of who he’d been. It’s not up to me to tell you, but…” He turned to look at her imploringly.
“When he does tell you, don’t blame him for it, alright? It’s not his fault…”
Echo swallowed thickly, tears falling slowly down his face, crying as he remembered. “All those years I followed… The first time we flew our planes… our pilot’s license… He saved my life so many times, always pulling me out when I made a mistake.”
He shook his head. “It… no. Not anymore. I have to go help the other medics.” He turned away, and a chill spread through her, pausing at her fingertips.
He stopped for a moment.
“The blood hasn’t been cleaned from the stones. I think I’d like it to remain there. Until they see it.”
He drew in breath again, then turned back around suddenly, tears in his eyes.
“Damn! For the love of god, Azalea…!”
She shrunk back, confused. Then his face twisted into a smile.
He pulled her into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you… For everything.” he whispered. “But promise me you won’t scare me again. Please.”
“I promise.”
He pulled back, satisfied.
“Thank you. Truly.”
Then he was gone.
She bit her lip, hard, her eyes suddenly moist. She watched the fading silhouette, as they stepped through the doors, to tend to others. She let the tears fall, closing her eyes and sobbing.
Slowly, she stood up, and walked out the door.
She wanted to see the tiles, another time.
She pulled short of the tiles, unable to prevent a gasp of surprise. The white tiles were stained with blood. Too much than was right. And she had been unable to heal them fast enough…
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and clung to it, the tears now streaming freely down her face. Rubela held her hand, squeezing it tight, then turned to sit on the opposite side of the bloodstained tiles, hesitantly glancing up at Azalea a few times.
Pain erupted over her forehead, and she gasped, falling on her back, and looking up at the terrible face that stared down at her. Huge, curved teeth reached the top of their head. Bright red, terrible eyes. It screeched in laughter, holding up its claw and licking blood – her blood – from its fingers. She heard footsteps and spun. The security guard who had cornered her next to the machine skid to a stop, a broad smile erupting on his face. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at her heart, and at the same time the creature pulled away from her. She pulled out her stick, pointing it back and forth between the creature and the security guard, unsure what to do. She flicked it to red.
“Steady, Kayla…” said the security guard, then smiled crookedly at Azalea. “There’s nowhere to run. Just you, me, and Kayla…” He laughed, an eerie laugh, one that he shouldn’t have been able to make, brought his gun up to point at her.
“That’s where you're wrong.” Rubela hissed, standing up and aiming her own gun at the Security Guard.
His face twisted to form another creature like Kayla. She heard two guns fire, and at the same time felt the brutal claws of the creature pull across her face, leaving bloody claw marks. She flicked the first switch she could feel, and there was a flash of green light before it disappeared. The creature lay on the ground, paralyzed. She fell to her knees, gasping, her hand on her face.
The claws had narrowly missed her eyes. She felt a stinging pain in her ankle, and squeezed it by instinct. A smoking bullet fell with her blood, rolling to the ground, but not before it had done its damage. She looked up, unable to move her leg.
Rubela lay on the ground, blood spurting from her chest. The security guard grimaced and got to his feet shakily, holding his arm. “There’s no way you’ll escape this time. No more friends to save you. And if I’m going down –” he gasped in pain, then recovered.
“Then you’re coming with me!” He stepped on her ankle, and pressed down, hard. She screamed in pain. He smirked. “Kayla’s claws are poisonous. You won’t be able to move in a few minutes, much less breathe….” he gave a mirthless laugh.
Her eyes widened as she realized what was going to happen a second before it did. A flash of gold light, and she finally let herself fall to the ground, surrendering her body to a spasm of memories. How she hated these uncontrollable moments of reflection, spasms that came from who-knew-where. Her curse… The guard crumpled to the ground beside her, dead.
∗ ∗ ∗
Azalea shook her head. “I… Don’t understand… Who is Haiku? And why? Mother, please!”
Her mother was falling through her fingers like water… slipping away from her. “Remember… Azalea… Remember the light… Don’t fall like I fell… Don’t trust like I trusted. Go your own way, but please…” She coughed blood. “Please… Remember the stars. Remember the si—” She gave one last shuddering breath and fell silent. A beam of light fell on her body, and she disintegrated, her butterfly spirit giving one last pitiful twitch before fading away into nothing. Azalea raised her head and shrieked in agony, at the earth, the water, the stars, the one who had done this. She fell silent after some time, falling onto her mother’s skull, caressing it, sobbing over it.
∗ ∗ ∗
Her vision blurred, and she registered a cold white cloth on her forehead, a firm hand on her eyes, soothing whispers. “She’s awake.” She managed to open her eyes a little wider, and her vision focused. The hand moved away, and she coughed weakly. A warm liquid pulsed down her throat, and she breathed a few deep breaths. She hadn’t realized how dry she had felt. She felt a searing pain in her ankle, and gasped. Hands pushed her shoulders back, forcing her to lay still. “Hold still – it’ll be over in a moment.” whispered the medic, but she couldn’t stop tears from coming to her eyes as the pain increased. At the moment, all she wanted to do was to die.
Suddenly the pain fell away, and she was left gasping for air.
“Brace yourself…” murmured the medic, looking up for a moment at a clock, then turning back just before a new wave of pain hit her, this time in her leg. Just as she thought she would pass out, the pain flew away. Another, older medic’s face appeared over her’s, and the younger medic moved to make way for him. “These marks… we’ve taken the poison away, and done all we can, but I’m afraid that the top two, possibly three – you had eight, of course – but three may scar… I’m sorry that –”
The medic nodded, and turned away. The door opened and closed, and then– “Great galloping gods Azalea, what did you do to your leg?”
She sighed, and fell back onto her sheets as Elijah’s face swam into view. “Go away.” She snapped. Elijah sighed. “I still can’t believe you didn’t invite me.” Elijah became oddly still, and she glanced at what he was looking at – her whip scars. She pulled the blanket up to cover them, and gritted her teeth. “Just… leave me alone. I... didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
Red hot, scalding pain burst through her ankle, and she became stock-still, unable to move or breathe. She sat upright, as though in a trance, but nothing had happened to her ankle. Then her spirit formed beside her, and she saw what had happened. A massive bullet had carved its way through the tiger’s back foot, and it limped before collapsing on the ground beside her, breathing heavily. Without second thought, ignoring Elijah’ cries of surprise, she snatched the bandages off her side, ignoring the blood that suddenly began pouring past, falling onto the sheets. She bent over, focusing on not passing out, and wrapped the bandages clumsily around the tiger’s ankle. A green light glowed for an instant, then disappeared, and she fell to the ground, gasping for breath, distantly the pain in her ankle easing, ever so slowly…
“Dammit, can’t you do anything to help her?”
The voice came from behind the curtain of everlasting blackness. Then –
“Move aside, move aside! I think she’s coming ‘round.”
Hurried footsteps, and then silence; the pain she had barely managed to register pulsed through her one final time before finally retreating.
“It’s fine.” she said, and when the medic didn’t look convinced, she added, “It really is fine – I swear.”
Echo burst into the room, pushing past the medics.
“What the hell Azalea? I leave you for an hour and this is what I come back to? Dammit, why Azalea? Why? You promised me!”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” She said, defending herself. Then she sat up. “What happened to Rubela?” Echo’s face softened. “It’s fine. She’s alive.”
The door opened again, and Flint stomped in, livid, followed closely by Clay.
“I’m going to kill those medics one day, I swear–”
He cut off as he noticed Echo. His eyes roved to stare at Azalea, then back to Echo.
“Damn. Curse the gods, what is it this time?”
Echo related the story quickly. Flint sighed. “If I don’t kill the medics first, Azalea, I swear I’ll kill you. How is it that every time I turn around you’re in trouble?”
She shrugged. “It’s not like I find trouble… It’s just that sometimes trouble finds me.”
Clay sighed, clapping a hand to his forehead.
NOTE: This chapter is still being edited. A transition would be here.
She paused at the gates, taking a deep breath of the fresh air – she hadn’t realized how much she had missed it.
“Enjoying your time out?” Rubela’s voice.
“Are you alright? It looked bad…”
“I’ve felt worse.”
Azalea nodded, not bothering to turn. “Don’t you… I don’t know. I guess, just sometimes… wish you were…”
Rubela choked. Azalea turned now. “What?”
Rubela shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know… I just… Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so…”
“Different.” Azalea finished for her.
“Yeah, I do. And I hate it when another thing distinguishes me from the rest… But sometimes I wonder… whether I’m better off this way…”
Azalea bit her lip. “If I was normal, my parents would still be alive. And from what my uncle did to me… I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
The security guard snapped off Rubela’s response. “Hurry up – the doors have got to close sometime!”
They glanced behind, confused.
“Oh – and don’t go too far – the Lyns have gotten restless.”
She hurried past the gates, pausing for a moment to breathe deeply, and in a moment was joined by Rubela.
“Oh – and one more thing.” The security guard called after them.
“Stay away from Jin’s place. He hates it when people come near his home. ‘Specially newcomers.” He pointed to the left. “It’s right about there.”
She nodded, hurrying over the grass, which soon turned to hard baked stone. Rubela fell into pace beside her as they broke into a run. It seemed to simplify everything instantly. She was running too hard, too fast, to think about all her troubles. All her problems seemed to simply collapse into the mist, leaving only running.
Step-Step-Step-Step-Step. Step. Step… Step…
They paused, and looked back. The base was impossibly far away. How far had they run? She glanced around nervously, pulling her stick out and flicking it to red – alert. The guard’s words came back to her – Whatever you do, don’t go too far – the Lyns are restless.
Rubela paused beside her uneasily, nervously pulling out a shiny dagger made of crystal.
“You can’t hope to use a dagger against a Lyn!” Azalea hissed, irritated.
Rubela glanced at her momentarily. “This isn’t a normal dagger… It’s a Fallt.”
Azalea stifled a gasp – Fallts were incredibly rare because of the material they were made of – Caln, only found in Reth. Except now, the small tribe that used to make Fallts commercially had locked their secret away, withdrawing from the world, and only distributing the deadly weapons among people of their own kind.
Before Azalea could process the rest, Rubela grabbed and held her hand. “Shhhh… listen.”
Azalea paused for a moment, then sighed, annoyed. “I don’t hear anything.”
Rubela slowly let her hand fall, turning and walking forward a bit, her Fallt out.
“Exactly.”
Azalea finally understood. It wasn’t what she could hear – but what she couldn’t. There were no sounds at all. Compared to the noise surrounding them before, the silence seemed impenetrable, closing in and squeezing.
When the world is silent, you often hear things, and see things that you wouldn’t have before – yet you think they aren’t truly there. Your senses become sharper, more acute. Not even the smallest ant escapes your eye.
She saw shadows. Wavering shadows, coming from the direction she had come. She blinked quickly – she must be imagining it. When they didn’t disappear, she froze, shock-still, then took off, running away from the shadows – and away from the base. A shadow loomed over her, and she glanced up just in time to see a ship – a massive plane, not quite as big as a Viper, yet massive nonetheless to her eyes. It was covered in a nasty, green slime, but she paid no attention to that – the Lyns were gaining on her. Desperately, she flung herself into the broken-down plane, pausing only a second for Rubela, before slamming and bolting the door just as the first wave of Lyns flung themselves against it, shrieking and hooting angrily as they found their way barred, preventing them from reaching their prey.
She threw her back on the now dented door, gasping for breath, beside Rubela. The dents grew – she knew the door would burst soon, and braced herself. Suddenly, the denting stopped; there was one last final, choking scream, as though something was being drawn away from its soul, and then all was still. She waited, but eventually the suspense proved too great. Carefully, bracing herself for a battle, she opened the door just enough to look outside.
The green slime that coated the ship had covered the Lyns. At her feet, just under the steps, the last leathery wing fell beneath the slime, disappearing from sight.
Rubela gasped, and she turned suddenly. “What?”
“Soul slime” Rubela breathed. “It sucks out souls from a body, and devours it. The only reason you’re still alive… is because it senses something about you. I don’t know what… but whatever it is, it’s saving your life.”
∗ ∗ ∗
“There’s no way you can’t find her– If it was me, I’d–”
“Flint, please! You’ve got to calm down!”
“-And missing for three days, too! As if you would know anything about what it feels like to lose someone!”
“Echo, Clay, please, make Flint understand, we can’t send out a search party for her; it’s out of the question, it’s… Oh come on, don’t you believe in me at all? After all, maybe it’s – Well, maybe it’s better off if she’s not here–!”
“I can’t believe you really thought we’d fall for that, Mourn, I thought you were nobler than that. I never thought you’d be willing to just leave somebody out there, to face those - those - those abominations.”
“Echo, please, you have to understand – it’s too dangerous out there! Dammit – anything could happen, if–”
“And I suppose you think that’s reason enough to go? For god’s sake, Mourn, I just got out of the hospital! It’s dangerous out there – that’s all the more reason to find her!”
“Clay, Clay, you don’t know what you’re doing – none of you know – oh, for god’s sake!”
There was a flash of green, then– “I’m sorry Mourn, but damn you, we’ve got to find her.” Flint shook his head. “Somebody will be along to free you, Mourn. I’m sorry it’s come to this…”
Clay lay the squat man comfortably on the ground, pausing. “If not, you’ll break free eventually. Just… don’t go looking for us, Mourn.”
Echo scoffed. “As if he’d have the guts to. And here I was thinking I’d never be willing to do something that Mourn didn’t. For god’s sake man, you need to start pulling yourself together! I’m 25 years old, and not even mature! Or where you just born a coward?”
Flint raised his eyebrow. “Which, come to think of it, might be a bit of a stretch–”
“Oh shut up.” snapped Echo. “I’m only a bit younger than you–”
Flint sighed. “I knew it’d amount to nothing. Pales out?”
Clay nodded, biting his lip nervously. “It’s best that way, I suppose.” He pulled out his stick, flicking it to red, and glancing behind him. “See you at the bottom.” He walked quickly to the ledge of the raised platform, and jumped, his cloak billowing behind him as he fell. Echo hurried to the edge, taking a deep breath. “Well – see you there, I guess.” He jumped. The doors burst open behind Flint, and he spun, walking backwards until his feet slipped. Elijah burst in, gasping for air. “I’ve got to come – you can’t just leave me.” Flint sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t. Stay here – we’ll get back as soon as we can.” Elijah opened his mouth to argue, but Flint held up his hand. “She might still be at base… I’m sorry.” He jumped backwards, disappearing in a rush of air as the mist swallowed him.
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Chapter 8: A forgotten fate
Azalea paused at the entrance to the ship, feeling the wind hit her head-on as she breathed those few, welcoming breaths. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to breathe fresh air again. She looked into the distance, and for an instant thought she could make out three silhouettes against the falling horizon, before they seemed to turn, and were gone. Suddenly, she was bowled over by some unseen claws, and she was pushed to the ground as something leaped from the roof of the ship.
With a cry of anger and surprise, she swung around, knocking the creature off her. She stepped further back to the ship, yet not completely inside, extending her stick to point at the creature as it advanced, its massive, furry, bat-like wings opening and closing nervously. At one point, it fell on its side, but righted itself with its wing, and, after uttering a few high-pitched squeaks, it gathered itself, and approached once again.
It was a bit smaller than a cat, yet its wings seemed overly large for it. It chittered nervously, bending low to the ground, and half folding its wings, occasionally making pitiful squeaks. A strange heat radiated from it, and she pinched herself. This thing was dangerous!
Rubela, on the other hand, didn’t seem to think so. If anything, she seemed to be making friends with the new company, kneeling down on one knee, and slowly extending her hand to the creature, curling her fingers in case it snapped at her. It seemed to become smaller, then as her hand reached its face, it fluffed up, and hissed. She drew her hand back halfway, then paused, and began to reach out once again.
This time it didn’t snap at her, and allowed her to touch it.
Azalea stood in shock, then finally grimaced and pushed her Pale into the depths of her pocket, reaching out carefully, and petting the rough, furry head of the creature. It calmed her, and she felt her worries being slowly washed away.
Then, a massive crashing sound broke the silence, and she fell backwards, slamming into the wall.
Strange shadows that seemed to be melting threw themselves on her from above the ship, and she fell back as a giant, groping hand only half-solid reached out for her face, ripping her skull mentally, without touching her. The hand drew back, and she could feel her soul being pulled away from her. She screamed, a horrible, chilling scream, and fell back. There was a roar, louder than a hundred lions, and then all was still. A massive wave of lava erupted from the ground, enveloping the shadow yet missing her by inches. She fell back, landing on the hard, cracked ground. Rubbing her back, she scrambled to her feet as the shadow disintegrated into nothing. The small creature slowly lowered its front paw, which, she realized, had been extended all this time.
“Wait a minute… Did you do that?” Rubela whispered in disbelief, looking at the creature with newfound respect.
It stared at her, whimpering, and hurried towards her, flapping its wings slowly, at the last moment rising into the air and alighting on her shoulder, chittering happily. Azalea glanced at it warily. “Well… I guess you’re stuck with us… at least ‘till we get back to base.”
She glanced at Rubela nervously.
“Assuming that’s fine with you, of course.”
Rubela only smiled, and pet the creature.
“And you?” Rubela whispered.
It seemed to have no problem with the arrangement, so Azalea sighed, and stood up, stepping into the ship. “We might as well see if this works, seeing as we’ve got nothing else to do.”
She paused, realizing that she’d used “We” instead of “I”. Rubela – couldn’t stay here. She was already risking too much.
She pinched herself again, winced from the pain, and snapped the door shut. She sighed, looking around the ship. She hadn’t had a chance to inspect it before.
It was in relatively good condition – about as big as the Viper she’d flown in. It had two rooms – the cockpit, and the Lever, the main room for passengers and cargo. The door from which she had just entered was dented, presumably from time, and the Lyns. On the opposite wall, rows of shelving awaited her, while in the middle of the room, a circle table sat. Once it might’ve glowed bright blue and white, but now the LEDs had faded. Square, worn velcro straps, covered in dust, were connected to the ground surrounding the table, and she assumed it was to be able to stand on without falling while the ship was in the air. She nudged them with her foot, and bit her lip as they fell away from the ground easily. She batted at a cobweb above her, and sighed, glancing up. A small, hinged opening led up, and she narrowed her eyes, pulling on the metal rope that hung from it. It swung open, revealing a set of stairs, and she clambered up them. The room was full of spiderwebs, making everything harder to see. She heard chittering below her, and glanced down. Rubela was starting up the ladder, while Tthe creature was making every effort to climb the way she had. , and Rubela glanced up warily.
“I’ll be right back!” she called. “Just a moment, I swear.”
Rubela stepped down slowly, and Tthe creature stopped its efforts, whined, then sat down, staring up at her expectantly. Rubela kneeled beside the creature, and calmed it.
After one last glance back at Rubela, she ascended the last couple of rungs, taking a deep breath. She She glanced around the room nervously, then pulled herself into it. It was narrow, and she bent down, biting her lip. She noticed a dark passageway ahead, and reached for her Darkon, then realized she hadn’t brought it with her. She pulled out her Pale, flicking it to red, and stepping slower than ever. She paused, glancing around nervously. There was no way an attic this size would have fit on the Viper…
Azalea turned a corner, and was met by an explosion of green light. She blinked rapidly, and rubbed her eyes, looking ahead again. The green light was coming from a glass doorway. Slowly, she approached the door, the feeling of being watched stronger than ever. The light was coming from a green mist, filled inside the room. She swore she saw a gold and red tail smash against the doorway, but shook it off, her hand on the handle. She took a deep breath, casting a quick glance behind her for the unseen watcher, and turned the handle. An explosion propelled her backwards, and she landed painfully on her side. The door was closed, but she could have sworn she had seen a massive gold eye of some unknown green body hit the glass. She scrambled to her feet and ran down the hallway, jumping the last stairs, narrowly avoiding the creature, and slammed the trapdoor closed, gasping for air.
After a moment, when she was sure she wasn’t being followed, she stood up nervously, and looked up. “I think… I think this ship has got a lot more secrets than I thought it did…” she laughed nervously, and looked sideways at the creature, then sighed, turning and walking into the cockpit.
Rubela made no effort to follow, but called from across the room.
“What did you see?”
Azalea stopped, and exhaled slowly.
“Something large, and powerful is up there. Something dangerous.”
She clenched her fists at her sides, took a deep, steadying breath, and entered the cockpit.
Azalea glanced at the controls warily, half expecting them to jump up and bite her, but they didn’t move. She sighed, and sat down, brushing dust off some of the buttons, pressing a few experimentally. Nothing happened, and she slumped in her seat, glancing over her shoulder at the creature. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us, little Ebony.”
She paused for a moment, regaining her thoughts. Ebony… She recognized it but couldn’t place it. She pushed the nagging thought from her mind as she realized she’d finally identified the type of creature this was - an Ebony.
“You have a lot more secrets than I’d hoped - and a lot more reasons I should fear you… Ebony. I only hope Rubela knows what she’s doing with you.” she whispered, turning back to the controls. A small, dark red and purple button caught her eye - it was higher on the control panel, nearly hidden by a joystick. A strange, circular mark was on the unusually thick, cylindrical button. It looked like one of those large, useless buttons that were only meant for show, and did absolutely nothing, yet somehow she could sense that the button was there for a reason - and an important reason at that.
The mark was simple enough - a circle with four curving, swirling lines coming from the edge and joining with another, larger circle, made up of the swirling lines. In the center of the circle was a set of large letters: M | R, and in between the letters was a line, which had been cut through to allow two more vertical letters to stand in the line’s place, spelling “in”.
The button was scratched, and obviously in terrible shape. It seemed to glow, and for an instant Azalea’s hopes shot up. Perhaps the ship did still have power – but then her hopes plummeted and sagged as the glow disappeared.
∗ ∗ ∗
“But I don’t want you to go!” Azalea absentmindedly rubbed her eyes, expecting tears yet none came, and she eventually gave up, sitting down in a huff. “I hate the emperor. Why can’t the general come?” She sniffed sulkily, and her father smirked down at her, giving her a knowing look. “She’ll go far.” He said to her mother. “General Ruderalis is on his way to the top, and nothing will stand in his way anymore.” He paused, glancing at his watch, but refrained from expanding. Time was short, and for words time was even shorter. He hugged her mother, and they emerged from their embrace only after her mother’s tears were enough to be noticed. “Come home safe, Talpohg… you know we can’t manage without you. Your fate is in the Lord Seventh’s hands. May you never stray from your path, and always find space for your daughter in your heart. May your loyalty never waver from the great empero—” Her mother paused, and dabbed at her eyes, then swallowed, and glanced down, to see their hands entwined above her daughter’s young, innocent face. They pulled away reluctantly. “Godspeed, husband. Godspeed.”
∗ ∗ ∗
The ship jolted, and she fell to the ground, grabbing what support she could as debris fell on her. The ship rocked again, and she was flung to the opposite side of the ship, landing painfully. A roar came from above her, and her head shot up by instinct. The Ebony cried out in fear and pain as another wave of debris fell, and they shook away, barely managing to wiggle free. Rubela scooped the Ebony it up and ran towards Azalea her across the ship, and she grabbed them, hugging them close, ignoring the scalding heat of the Ebony’s body, Rubela’s fearful face.
“Is this–” Rubela gasped, steadying herself as another crash came from above them, and the trap door above her swung open, revealing the strange attic, and beyond it, Azalea was sure, the mysterious door. “What you were talking about?!” Rubela finished, shouting to be heard.
Azalea looked around widely. The thing was what had to be causing this. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, then scrambled up the steps before she could change her mind, glancing behind her. She had the feeling she was being watched, not a cold feeling, but a warm and dangerous feeling. She was being watched by something old, something wise, something so incredibly intelligent that she was lucky to have caught its attention. Or maybe it was unlucky – she couldn’t know yet.
She pulled out her pale, and hurried forward. She felt a touch on her arm, and spun in surprise. Rubela jumped back, gasping, “I’m coming with you!” She nodded and continued – after just one encounter with the door, she knew she could find it again blindfolded, and yet she felt an unease as the tunnels turned darker and darker, until she couldn’t see her own hand, and was moving with touch. Even her Pale couldn’t illuminate a single wall.
She could feel she’d turned the wrong way, but knew better than to turn back – after all, anything could be waiting for her at the end of the tunnels. Then, just as she was about to give up and feel her way back, even if something was coming after her, green light blinded her, and she fell to her knees, trying to stop the impending glare of light, but it wouldn’t let up. Her Pale dropped from her hand, and almost instantly the light receded. She blinked quickly, then looked up.
It was the doorway – that was easy to see. Her eyebrows furrowed as she noticed the button with the strange mark on it beside the doorway. It had been in the cockpit, hadn’t it?
The ship gave yet another violent shake, and she dove for the button, pressing it hard. Then she was sent through the air, spinning, and landed on a wooden box. She grabbed her leg and groaned, but there was no time to nurse her injuries now. A red light came from the door, and she blindly limped toward it. It came from a symbol on the door, the same symbol on the button, burned red on the glass a bit higher than eye level.
As though some force forced her to do so, her hand slowly raised, and pressed against the door, over the symbol. The symbol burned her, and it seemed as though the door was sucking her soul from her. For a fleeting instant, she thought of Rubela’s warning about the Soul Slime, then T the red light disappeared, and a beam of gold light shot from the sky, surrounding her. She pulled away, but the door wouldn’t let her hand escape – she cried out as another wave of pain burst through her hand, and finally fell backward as her hand pulled away. She cradled it, yet as though in trance could tell something was wrong – her hand had white, burned marks as though she’d been branded with the symbol.
She cried out in fear and pain, and jumped back, as a wave of nausea passed over her, as though she was in an ocean. She barely managed to keep her head above the water of the crashing wave, but before she could relax another wave fell over her, this one completely and utterly engulfing her. But this time, she was ready for it, and held her breath as the wave passed overhead, until it had gone. The ocean was clear, and she dove from the scene, flashing back into reality.
Rubela crouched over her, and pulled her up. “Are you all right? I thought for a moment–”
“Yes, I’m –” she gulped. “–Fine”
She held her head, and groaned as her hand burst with pain again. Then it was silent, as the ocean had been, and she got to her feet nervously, glancing at the door apprehensively.
The door slowly swung open, and without giving her a choice in the matter, extended green mist with the speed of a bullet, catching her and Rubela up, somehow – and pulling her into the open doorway in an instant. The mist covered her, and she stood for a moment, blinking against the bright green light, though it did no good – she couldn’t see a thing, and had the distinct feeling she would suffocate unless she moved soon. The door had disappeared from sight, and she had lost all sense of direction, so she began walking in what she hoped was a relatively straight line. She couldn’t even see her hands or body, much less feet or pale, and hoped she wouldn’t crash into a wall.
Almost as soon as she did so, she collided painfully with a hard, rocky material, and felt her way to the side of it, cursing loudly, and continuing along the wall. For a moment it seemed she would have a heart attack – she felt a warm, squishy substance, then finally realized it was her own hand. She hurried along the wall, faster this time, until her head collided once again, harder, with yet another wall. She pulled Rubela behind her, and felt her way along this one, feeling her breath slowly beginning to fail, it’s supply nearly gone, and tried to reach for more oxygen, but the green mist closed on her and she felt herself falling; black spots marked her vision, and she started to cry out, but the mist’s grip was merciless, and she knew she was doomed. Suddenly, she fell against wood, falling down stairs, and breathed, that beautiful breath she needed to know.
And now she could finally see where she was, without the green mist cloaking her, and destroying her easily. She lay there for what seemed both an eternity and too little time, feeling that merciful, cooling breath, feeling the oxygen flow through her body. Replenishing everything she had lost, and more. Slowly the spots turned from black to gray, then to white and finally, finally vanishing.
For the first time in her life since her clan had been destroyed, she felt at peace.
A cold, silent, yet ?somehow? beautiful…
Peace.
She felt a cool hand on her head, yet knew she was imagining it – she moved her head around, trying to push pushed it away, and lay, gasping, trying to see something. But it was darkness once again. Then voices, distant voices, nearly penetrating her cloak of silence, but breaking away easily. She strained to hear, but could only lay there, unmoving, unable to say or do anything. Her wrist moved, and those cold, cold fingers returned around it, cooling it, but not enough – it was never enough, never could be enough…
The fingers shot away from her once the palm of her wrist was showing, and loud, harsh shouts, though she couldn’t tell what they were saying. She was laid on something soft, silky, and she fell into it, finally breaking away and abandoning all attempts to see, to hear, to feel the voices, and that beautiful coolness. Cold Cool cloths clung to her body, chilling her burning skinbody, then absorbing heat, scalding her skin and being pulled away, replaced with more cool cloths. At last she gave up, and finally retreated, sinking into a deeper, darker, impenetrable unconsciousness.
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Chapter 9: A living scar
He turned to leave, but turned back at the last moment, seeming to choke on his words. “I– I need a moment alone with…” He nodded pointedly at Azalea, and her mother nodded. “I’ll wait outside, and– Talpohg–” He smiled weakly at her. “It’s alright, Elani… I’ll do what I have to do.” Her mother nodded, and bustled outside, wiping her eyes. Talpohg looked after her for a moment, then clenched his jaw, and gave a slight nod in her direction. “May your wings extend Elani… May your wings extend.” He turned to Azalea, and pulled her towards him, his hands on her shoulders, his gaze deathly serious. “Azalea… When I leave tonight, I… I may not return the same person… Your mother is a beautiful and intelligent woman, but… She will not agree with my decisions. She will fight me, and… Much as I love her, I will fight back for what I believe in. Know that…” His voice broke. “Know that I will always love you, Azalea, Child of flowers… Daughter.” She seemed not to understand him, and yawned loudly. “‘M soo tired… When you come back can I have sugacady?” He made no answer, only sighed, standing up. “You’re too young to understand.” She seemed to take great offense at this. “I understand sugaca—” She broke off with a yawn. “Come back soon, daddy.” She curled into a ball and shut her eyes.
∗ ∗ ∗
Azalea sat up shakily, and blinked, hard. She was in some sort of room, with hard wood surrounding it. She glanced to the left and saw Rubela laying, rolling in pain on a bed. “What are you doing?” she shouted, jumping up.
“Easy!” shouted a man, barring her way. “They’re saving her life! Calm down!”
She fought and kicked, but his relentless grip didn’t spare her. He spun, so she was facing Rubela, but held her so she couldn’t break free.
Rubela rolled in another wave of nausea, and gave her weight to the supporting hand at her back.
“Take it easy…”
Rubela coughed, and someone wiped her mouth gently. She groaned, a mixture of another cough and a sob.
“That’s it – let it out.”
She reached for her eyes, touching them hesitantly.
“Why can’t– I— see—”
“Hush.”
“But– My eyes—”
“Relax. You will understand soon enough. You are in Sanction. Nothing can enter without our knowing.”
“S-Sanction?”
“It’s where we make the Crystalli, and the Wards. We are the Ikern.”
She coughed weakly again, unable to register what he had said, and turned towards the soothing voice, before what felt like an inner slap to the face sent her roiling backwards in surprise. Rubela felt her head connect with a cold hand, and heard shouted orders. She cried out in pain and shock, as freezing liquid coated her face, with small blocks of what felt like ice. Laughter, then –
“She’s in pain.”
“Kalydi would have known what to do if–”
“There’s nothing we can do about that now – call Rolld!”
Footsteps, soft, then louder, and a gasp.
“Why was I not informed of this?”
Rubela felt her wrist being turned and gasped from pain shooting through her palm.
“Hold!”
Pain erupted, not just from her wrist, but from her whole body, and she shrieked, thrashing to escape the pain. Strong arms held her down, and she screamed as something icy, and translucent seemed to shoot through her back, emerging on her chest, as though a sword of ice had stabbed her through her back.
Her vision returned, but with it the pain intensified.
A liquid was forced into Rubela’s mouth, but she spat it out, coughing on the remains and gasping as the pain increased.
“Get it down!”
The same was happening to Azalea – the small bowl tilted, and poured a disgusting liquid down her throat; she was in shock for a moment, and the pain became an unbearable background – but at least it was a background, and not the lead actor. Then she swallowed, not because she wanted to, but because the pain was escaping its flimsy prison, and she needed to breathe again.
It was no use – as soon as she had swallowed the liquid, the pain grew greater, harder, and she had the distinct feeling she would rather die then, there, at that moment.
Rubela had stopped flailing – how Azalea had no idea, but it seemed that her legs and arms were paralyzed, and – even in the pain she realized they had drugged her, paralyzing her.
“Damn it! Pull away her consciousness if you have to!”
Azalea couldn’t resist as her very soul, spirit and all, being pulled away from her, but she clung to a memory, one she had always pushed to the back of her mind, and finally the feeling passed and she was left in darkness, a terrible darkness, no better than the pain.
She reached for her consciousness, but it was like feeling in the dark; she could only find that memory she had held back, and realized it was the only part of her consciousness she had left. The memory seemed to pull her in, and she spun, landing in the place of her younger, cowering self.
∗ ∗ ∗
“No! Please, I swear I didn’t do it—!” Azalea cried out as the whip hit her, and fell to her stomach on the floor, begging her uncle to stop his madness. “Please!” She cried again, but the merciless whip only slashed through the air again, catching her arm. She looked up into those dark, merciless eyes and knew he would hit her, destroy her until she had fallen. She scrambled to her feet and ran towards the door, but her uncle caught her in his cold grip, twisting her arm behind her. “Admit it.” He hissed. “Admit what you did.”
∗ ∗ ∗
Then there was void, a great and terrible void.
She could not feel, nor understand, nor touch.
She was like that of a rock. Empty, with no memory of anything.
She would not remember anything.
∗ ∗ ∗
Azalea felt a flow of memories that knocked her off balance, as though a dam had just been broken. She could see a gold mist-like substance moving back into Rubela’s body, and gasped with relief as the blackness that had coated her memories slowly melted away.
With it, she could feel her consciousness flowing, resuming its place, as she was pulled away from the memory, and immersed in her being, her soul. Her self.
“Wharl haplend?” Rubela drawled, stirring Azalea from her thoughts,
“Hwoo ar’l–” She gave up, and lay back on the soft mat.
“Rolld!”
“Damn it, what is it now?”
Footsteps, then someone shouted out in surprise, and she fell to the ground in exhaustion.
“Why did you have to take both their consciousness away?” Someone snapped.
She struggled to string the words together, but couldn’t make sense of the memories she had thought she had forgotten swirling in her mind in a brilliant show of color, though regret was weighed beside it.
“Shee… Cashd…”
“What’s she saying?”
Then a deeper voice, sending beads of warmth to her forehead and chills to her back.
“It’s affected the other one, worse than any of us could have imagined.”
“What do you mean?”
His answer was broken off by a loud, blaring siren. She felt the presence push up and away, crossing across the room. “We need to find Kalydi. If no one else is willing to go, I’ll go myself.”
She heard an intake of breath. “No, Rolld! If you go, there'll be no reason to come back! She’ll have passed on, succumbed to the mist by then!”
He spun around. “Then what do you suggest I do?”
Calming; deep, calming breaths. “Stay here, Rolld. You stay here. If nobody else goes, I will.”
“That’s ridiculous! You – barely able to wield a Crystalli, much less a Ward – go? Forget it, Erend. It’s impossible.”
The darkness exploded into a wave of light, and she got to her feet shakily. Three men bowed over Rubela, and she hurried towards them.
She bent over Rubela, and touched her hesitantly. Her cheek was cold, icy even. She felt for a heartbeat. None.
She felt someone beside her, and did not turn, tears welling then falling, then welling again, and falling, down into eternity.
“She’s not dead. Not yet.”
She turned to stare at the speaker. It was the man that had barred her way earlier, and the man that had argued earlier with Rolld. His deep, brown eyes were full of sympathy, and he turned to stare at her, his dark hair fluttering in an invisible breeze.
“Yet…” She whispered, unable to break the gaze.
He stood up, and looked down at her. “Our healers will keep her alive until I come back with Kalydi.”
“Kalydi?”
“Our best healer. She lives at the peak of mount furin, just outside of the border. I’m going to find her. I’ll bring her back, and she’ll help your friend - the Mmist Gguardian took your friend’s soul. I wish Kalydi was still here… she used to be one of us, but abandoned our path to become a soul catcher. Let’s just hope she has your friend’s soul.”
Soul catchers, thought Azalea. They were greatly feared, and with good reason. Blessed by the undergods, they caught souls on their way to the underdark, with an impossibly rare stone, Slayt. She didn’t know who Kalydi was, but whoever they were, she hoped they would have what she seeked.
She turned to look back at Rubela.
“How long can they keep her alive?”
The man sighed, and bent as though bowing, extending his arm to touch Rubela’s forehead with two fingers. He paused there, unblinking, as a green mist began to drift from his body, identical to the mist in the room. He stood up.
“Not long.”
Azalea gave a sharp intake of breath.
“Then we’d best get going.”
The man turned, his face hardening. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t ask you to come – you might not come back if I–”
Azalea jumped to her feet.
“You’re not asking me to go. I’m telling you that I am going, whether you like it or not, with or without you.” She held up her hand to stop him from interrupting. “How would you feel if your friend, your only friend you’d ever had, was lying there, dying, and there was nothing you could do about it?” She breathed deeply, trying to hold back her tears, her voice rising.
“How would you feel, when all you could do was watch as she was tortured?”
Her tears were running freely now.
“Do you really think you could stand back and watch that, while others went to find one thing – the only thing – that could save her life! Do you truly believe that you could stand there and not help? Do you think you could leave the fate of your last friend in the hands of someone else? Because I know that I could never do that. I know that I would – will – die before I watch my friends fall. Because it’s already happened, and I will never let it happen again.”
The man looked at her with respect, and she stood, gasping, watching him, awaiting his response.
“You’re right.” He finally said. “I couldn’t. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to keep you safe.”
She nodded, understanding.
“Then the sooner we go, the sooner we’ll come back.”
He grabbed her arm.
“There’s one more thing.” She stared up at his eyes, and saw worry, intense worry. Genuine concern for her life. Something she had only seen once before…
“You must obey every command I give you. If I tell you to retreat, you will retreat. If I tell you to stay back as I go, you will do that. And if I tell you to run and not look back, you must do so.”
His grip tightened. “Do you understand me?”
Azalea shook her head. “I won’t leave you. If you tell me to run and save myself, I won’t do it, because nobody should have to die on my account.”
His eyes narrowed, and he sighed. “Nobody should have to, Azalea, but they will. I need you to trust me, because it’s my life –” He paused, and took a few deep breaths, pointing at Rubela’s still figure. “– or hers.”
She broke away, and turned to hide her tears.
“Then… forgive me… I need her.”
The man put a hand on her shoulder. “This is a place of forgiveness, Azalea. We are the Forgottens, the Hyakin without spirit. We are healers, both of heart and body. That is why I know your name – why all of us know your name. We are linked in a way nobody can know; a way nobody will ever know. Find your true name. Your true self. It is your last hope – the world’s last hope.”
Azalea nodded. The man turned. “Will you swear?”
Azalea bit her lip, and whispered her answer. “Yes.”
Behind her back, her fingers uncrossed.
The man grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “You can call me Erend.”
He began to walk to the door, giving Azalea no other option than to follow him.
They passed guarded rooms, the guards kneeling as they walked. Azalea made a mental note to ask why they did so.
Erend paused only once, and a moment later had collected a bag from a guard, and passed her a smaller one without straps.
“I see you’ve already got a bag – good. Put this inside your bag – it’s the raw essentials to last you a week in case we get separated.”
She did so willingly, and straightened up, following him as they continued on.
They paused in front of a large, oak door, cracked with age, yet she could detect a certain power emanating from whatever was behind it.
He paused, and the door opened. He pulled her through, shutting the door behind her. The room was a sort of wooden prison, with the only source of light being a strange green glow, though she couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
He put his hand on a pulsing green light beside the door, which she could have sworn had not been there before, and the lights dimmed, held for a moment, before abruptly switching off, leaving them in an impenetrable darkness. A flash of light came from the crack, and she pressed her eye to it. There was a strange, red lightning bolt a little way off, then another blue one. Suddenly, massive green, predator eyes stared at her, and she knew she had to pull away from the crack, but couldn’t meet the everlasting darkness again. She felt the urge to walk towards them, and as differently colored bolts appeared, she felt as though her soul was being ripped away, to pass through the door.
“Look away!”
Erend’s voice was distant, and strong, but not strong enough to break the spell on her.
“Azalea! Look away!”
She tore her gaze away from those powerful eyes, and put her back on the door. Before she could draw breath, Erend pulled her away, and the world was bathed in a brilliant light.
She blinked quickly, and turned to face Erend, who had his hand over his heart, and was struggling to breathe.
“You…”
He coughed, and fell to the ground heavily.
“Have… no idea…. How hard it was to pull you away…”
She sank to the ground in shock.
“Whose were they?”
Erend looked up wearily. “You must understand this, Azalea. In the portal…. Nobody has seen Meltos’s eyes for… more than a millennium… And the last one who did…”
“What?” asked Azalea quickly.
Erend shook his head. “Nothing… It’s just… you are truly Elani’s daughter. The fate of Icarius, perhaps the universe, rests solely on your shoulders. It is a burden too great for one so young, but you will bear it as if your life depends on it, because our very existence balances on it.”
Azalea looked up, irritated. “People keep telling me that the world rests on my shoulders. What am I supposed to do? What does that mean?”
Erend looked up.
“You’re too young to know everything but… I’ll tell you what you need to know, for now. Some time ago, the general was involved in a plot to kill the emperor. He would have succeeded if the resistance group hadn’t stepped in at the last minute. If he takes the place of the emperor, Icarius is lost.”
Azalea frowned. “That doesn’t make sense – wouldn’t he be banished?”
Erend sighed loudly, and buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled. “I wish that were the case… But he had – has – a lot of supporters, who would rise up and fight against the emperor if he were banished or demoted. And if he is killed, he will become a martyr. So the emperor has no choice but to leave him where he is, and watch his back.”
He looked around, and Azalea followed his example. They were standing in the middle of a large beach, directly where the dry sand met the moist. Cooling waves lapped the shoreline a little way away, and to her left, opposite the beach, she could see an impossibly dense forest, as though created by arcane means. Ahead, north of them, she could distantly make out the shape of a massive mountain.
“Where are we?” she wondered aloud. Erend turned, and shrugged. “I portalled us as close as we could to Kalydi’s home, which is at the top of the mountain. We can’t portal any closer, or we’ll be… never mind. Just keep in mind that Kalydi is impossibly superstitious, and will shoot first, and ask questions later.”
He looked around.
“I wish we had more options… we’re too conspicuous here.”
He set off at a brisk pace towards the forest, and Azalea ran to catch up.
“Where are we going? How long until we’re there?” She asked between steps.
Erend cast a sidelong glance at her.
“We’d get there faster if you stopped asking questions.”
Azalea huffed, and bit back a response.
They lapsed into silence, and Erend paused at the forest, taking a deep breath, then answering her first question.
“You’ll find out when we get there. Until then, keep your eyes open. There are things here… things that are watching us. Things that don’t like our presence. Things that wish us dead, and, if given the chance, will make their wish into a reality. Stay sharp.”
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Chapter 10: A Fortune Retold
“Admit it.” He hissed. “Admit what you did.” She coughed out blood, accepting defeat, not knowing what her uncle wanted but knowing her uncle blamed her for something. Then she felt some unseen force pulling her to her feet, holding her against them. “Last chance.” The thing holding her snapped. Her uncle moved back, cowering against the wall. “You – get away from me - not your kind…” The man pulled something out, shooting a laser at her uncle. A brilliant flash of light, then it was as dark as night.
∗ ∗ ∗
She felt as though something were in her stomach, and trying to get out; a never-dying engine, pushing her forward; pulling her forward. She doubled over in pain, and gasped, before righting herself and hurrying to catch up with Erend. She would not delay; every second she wasted was a second Rubela was suffering; another second lost before Rubela fell.
She stumbled on a branch, and regained her footing, though only just. Erend glanced behind, concerned, but she swallowed her pain and pushed on, determined to prove to him that she wasn’t a burden. Suddenly, he skid to a stop, and she collapsed on the ground, grateful to the gods, yet guilty, too, for stopping while Rubela was dying. But then how could she help Rubela if she was dead before she reached the summit?
Erend turned, and waited for her to catch up, then indicated a small clearing. “We’ll stop here, and take turns on watch. Sleep well – we leave at dawn.”
Azalea opened her mouth to protest, but Erend held up his hand to quell her protests.
“I’ve seen you – you’ve got portal sickness. It happens to the best of us.”
She curled in pain, but managed to gasp through gritted teeth.
“It didn’t happen to you.”
Erend sighed. “The more you use portals, the longer the time before the sickness reaches you. In a couple of hours, I’ll have it. Besides, look.”
He pulled out a long sword, which somehow glowed in the dark forest, and pointed it ahead, murmuring words in a language she did not know, a soft, slow, rhythmic chant, the words leaving a clear note in the air. Suddenly, a red mist enveloped the trees ahead of them, and continued as far as the eye could see. Azalea self-consciously moved back, slipping out her Pale.
Erend sheathed his sword and turned. “It’s all right – just another enchanted forest, most likely Kalydi’s. We’ll have to wait until he grants us passage – the trees have already sent the message.” He pulled out two blankets, and threw her one. “I’ll take first watch, seeing as we’ll have to wait for the effects of the portal to wear off, or you’ll experience something worse than death.” Azalea nodded, and ducked under the thickest tree she could find, spreading the blanket half over her body before instantly falling asleep.
Erend waited until she was asleep, before walking to crouch beside her, and pulling the Pale from her fingers. He put it beside her, and sighed, drawing his sword and pointing it at the unknown, settling himself comfortably against a tree, leaning, and watching her. She should not have to bear the burden she did, but she would. Erend pointed the sword at the unknown, and kept his eyes trained on the forest ahead.
Undetected, a pair of large green, cat-like eyes watched from behind them with calm, calculating eyes.
Meltos.
Now was not the time to strike.
But he would not have to wait long.
The choice was coming.
Soon.
The massive eyelids closed, and he disappeared into just another tree’s shadow, watching. Waiting for the chance to strike.
Soon.
∗ ∗ ∗
Once Azalea had switched over, she quickly checked to make sure Erend was asleep, before slowly extending her hand to the right, keeping an eye on Erend in case he woke. Ebony bounded towards her, and snuggled against her arm. She patted his soft head comfortingly, and he whined, moving towards her. She stayed like that for some time, before the first rays of sun began to creep towards the sky, and she had to usher him away.
Erend got up with the sun, and quickly wiped any trace of their camp, before wasting no time in doing a sweep of the surrounding trees, to be sure it was safe, before returning.
“Come – there’s something you’ve got to see.”
Erend snapped once she had pulled her bag over her shoulders. He was unusually jumpy and nervous.
She followed him, treading softly. Now was not the time to make a mistake. He paused suddenly, and she followed his gaze to the ground, gasping when she saw what had happened.
Massive footprints surrounded their campsite, as though an animal had tried to enter, but failed. A green smoke trailed into the forest ahead, and Erend pointed his sword at the forest. She stepped back, sure that the red barrier would come, but instead a yellow mist drifted around them.
“Kalydi’s sign.”
“And the tracks?”
She bent to inspect the footprints, already knowing the answer, and dreading it. Erend’s lips barely moved. “Not hers.”
Her head snapped up. “Then whose?”
He had no answer for her.
“We should hurry. Kalydi won’t protect us much longer. She is, by nature, impatient.” He said finally, and glanced behind him. Their eyes met for a brief moment before he stepped into the yellow mist, which instantly swallowed him. Azalea hesitated a moment before following.
The instant she entered, she wished she hadn’t.
It was as though the trees were closing in on her, enveloping her, and she felt the same restraining feeling as she had had in the green mist that had landed her on this; even her breathing was harsher, and more ragged. Her lungs were screaming, but she was not out of breath; she knew she should be able to keep walking; must be able to keep breathing, but the trees were relentless and cruel, swallowing her as she hurried; it was almost as though her consciousness were being taken away again, but worse, because this time she knew what was happening; could feel it being ripped away.
Only it wasn’t her consciousness that was being taken away, she realized with a sinking feeling; it was her memories. They flashed by too quickly, and she had no way of reclaiming them. She could see each painful memory as though she was reliving them. She stumbled ahead, unsure what to do, only certain that she had to leave the forest as fast as she was able, certain that she needed to fill her mind with something other than those terrifying memories she called her own. She pushed on, calling out Erend’s name. She tripped over something, and looked down, as a particularly strong memory pushed itself to her mind, but she managed to stop it, and hold it at bay as she slowly registered what she had tripped on. It was Erend, curled into a ball, and moaning pitifully.
“No… No…” He moaned, then sat bolt upright, staring without seeing, his eyes gone, replaced with whites.
“No!” He screamed, and in horror she watched as his face twisted into that of Elijah’s, but at the same time not Elijah’s; his teeth were pointed, his hair spiked, and his nails dug into her wrist.
“No! Never again! No!” He screamed again, and she tried to pull away, but his nails kept digging into her skin, drawing blood, and with a terrible smile, he began to pull her towards him, with those same, terrible, white eyes. She pulled away as hard as she could, and his nails dug long grooves in her hand, grooves with blood. And she knew she could not leave him like this, so she grabbed his wrist, and ran to keep ahead of him, pulling him as he ran, and she ran, until finally the memories pulled themselves together and back to her, until she felt whole again. She lay, gasping, for a moment, before slowly getting to her knees and looking around. They had just come out of the forest, and were laying on a patch of grass, free of trees. A yellow light appeared ahead, and she blindly stumbled towards it, dragging Erend behind her, entering the mist. Her world spun, and she saw herself as a child, hauling wood in for her mother and father; then the scene changed and she was running to their massacre; again, it changed, and she was running from the general’s men. Then again, it switched to her running from the Lyns. Her face, materialized in place of the scene, as though she were looking into a mirror, except the face spoke to her scornfully.
“You’ve spent your whole life running, sister. You’re not getting anywhere. Turn around and face your fears; turn and face your desires. Why run? Courage is the presence of fear, and your reaction to it. The absence of fear is not courage; it is cowardice. Turn and face your fears before it is too late, sister. Do it not because I have told you so, but because your happiness and life depends on it.”
The face faded, and she stood up shakily, but with an unshakable determination in her eyes.
“I will.”
Erend pulled her up, and she looked around, dazed.
With a terrible feeling in her gut, she knew what had happened. They had arrived, to find not Kalydi, but a demon.He had lost his memories of her, and their journey.
∗ ∗ ∗
A brilliant flash of light, then it was as dark as night. She pulled away from the strong grip, and narrowed her eyes, as they faded to a red. She looked at the man who had come, and with a start realized he had the same eyes as she did. “Remember me, Azalea… Remember me when you need me most… Remember the Fire in you, Azalea. Don’t lose sight of the stars. Use me…”
∗ ∗ ∗
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Azalea snapped urgently, shaking away her spasm. At least it had been a time-halting spasm, one where no time passed.
Erend got a faraway look in his eyes.
“Pain… terrible pain…” He jolted, and stared at Azalea. “Who are you, and what do you want? No, I don’t care that you have money! Get out of here!” he stared behind her – through her –, and she looked, but there was nothing, and nobody.
Azalea bit her lip. Maybe he would regain his memories, but she needed to find Rubela’s soul, or this would all have been for nothing.
“Listen, I need to find Kalydi and get my friend’s soul back. Where does she live?”
Erend opted for a serious, nervous gesture. “Why, right behind you, of course.” She Erend coughed, then drew in a deep breath. “Be prepared.” He whispered, then set off. Confused, she spun, and made out a small house… an observatory of sorts, it seemed, nestled in the deepest part of the snow. Snow, she thought… It was summer. How had she gotten here?
She hurried part of the way towards it, and glanced back nervously.ehind her, at Erend.
“Aren’t you coming?”
She Erend sighed, and walked faster. As she neared, she thought she heard him whisper, “A terrible thing…” but he stopped talking as soon as she came closer. “Remember. She might not be transformed or possessed. It is best to talk to her with respect, until we know whether or not she has been ensnared.”
She turned back, and dragged him as she began to walk towards the house.
Erend didn’t answer, only stared up at the clouds with a dreamy expression on his face. She
They paused at the door of the cottage, and knocked sharply, twice. Wind blew her hair, disturbing the silence, and she felt tears in her eyes. After all she’d gone through, was this really how it would end? She waited, but finally gave up, knowing that if there truly was someone inside, they would have answered a long time ago. She tried to open the door, but it was locked – no luck. She could sense an arcane barrier around it, and decided not to force it. She turned away, and wiped her eyes, sighing. That was it, then. She would just have to find someone else to save Rubela. Could the mist be reasoned with? Was it a conscious being?
“What’re you doing?” snapped someone, and Azalea’s eyes darted to locate the speaker. It was an old woman, maybe ninety or more, who approached with a large basket of who-knew-what. She walked with a limp, but seemed surprisingly agile for her great age. She had dark gray hair, with a face that must have been beautiful when she was younger, but was now twisted, full of scars, though that eerie sense of belonging lingered around her figure.
Azalea could smell the thick scent of herbs, mingling with a strange, acidic smell that she could not identify, though she felt she had smelled it before, somewhere.
“I–”
“Kalydi.” Erend bowed low. “We come to ask you a favor.”
The woman pushed past themher, muttering angrily, and kicked at the door, bursting in, and entering, dropping the basket heavily on the table. For a basket of herbs, it certainly looked heavy. She went to the doorway, hesitant to enter; the arcane presence was clearer now, more than ever.
“Are you coming or not?” Snapped the woman – Kalydi – irritably.
She glanced nervously at Erend. “Aren’t you coming?”
He shook his head, and her courage fell. “I will come if she truly is possessed. But other than that.. You are on your own.”
She bit her lip, about to protest, but Erend held up a hand. “But remember this. If she is possessed, she may mask your presence from me, to stop me. She may remove your memories. You must not stop her. She will kill you if you try. But remember. I will always know who you are in the end.”
“You’re letting all the heat out.”
She gulped, remembering what Erend had said about Kalydi’s patience, and hurried in. She made to shut the door, but Kalydi beat her to it, raising and flicking her wrist. The door slammed, blowing wind into her face, and she hastily stepped away, glancing around. The room was lined with strange plants and smells; the entirety of the walls had been shelved, with plants placed on them, some in glass jars with neatly written labels, others massive, stretching into the ceiling. One snapped at her, catching hold of her clothes and pulling; she stepped away, but it kept its hold, and she felt her leggings rip. Without turning, the woman cackled, and threw something behind her shoulder. It looked like a couple long pieces of sage tied together; suddenly, it sprouted legs, and wasted no time in racing across the floor, over her foot – she suppressed a shiver – and onto the plant, where it commenced to – no, that couldn’t be right – stroking it. The plant drew back, hissing, and she backed off hurriedly, nearly tripping over a pyramid of reflecting goblets with swiveling eyes, which growled at her, showing an image of her being assassinated in the reflection.
Ahead and to her right, she could see an open doorway, leading into another room, darker, but with a strange, green glow around the border of the door, and past that was darkness.
“Miss Kalydi, ma’am, I was wondering–”
Kalydi cackled again, and turned to look at her, with an intense look of disgust.
“Yes, yes, I know why you’re here, Erend told me – besides, blast that man, where is he?”
Azalea glanced at the door.
“He’s… outside, ma’am… I think he– lost his memory in–”
“Good! Never liked that man anyhow. All ‘For Icarius’ and ‘Our home’. Icarius be damned – nothing can get here without my permission, and nothing will! Ha!”
She turned back to her herbs, mumbling to herself.
“Hearthrite… no, not there… yes.. Samb, yes… good…”
“Excuse me, ma’am – Miss Kalydi – I was wondering whether, well.. You know…”
Azalea gestured with her hands around the room.
“I suppose I wish you’d left that cursed man behind and come alone - everything would have been so much easier.” She started, as though she had not meant for Azalea to hear her, and answered irritably. “Yes, yes, I know why you’re here, I know what you want. Yes, I have it, but–” Kalydi finally turned back, and a devious smile stretched across her wrinkled face. “–the question is, Azalea, whether you have what I want.”
Azalea shook her head, confused. “I don’t have anything you’d want.. I mean, I have my Pale, my Shibuki…”
“Weapons do not concern me.”
“Then…”
“No… What I want is something only you can give me.” Kalydi inched forward until she was inches away. “I know you have it, child. Do not try to conceal it from me.”
Azalea tried to move back, but she was already pressed against the door, from backing up as Kalydi advanced.
“I don’t know what you mean!”
She was becoming more panicked by the second. Kalydi wasn’t acting normal; she knew that, even though she had just met her. Without warning, Kalydi grabbed her bag, and Azalea barely pulled it away.
“Just tell me what you want!” She cried.
“Your soul catcher of course. Come, girl, don’t tell me you don’t have it – I can smell it here, with you. That wooden scent…”
Azalea finally understood. She pulled the wooden block out of her pocket, and held it up, not quite ready to let it go. It was the last thing she had of her mother. Kalydi made a grab for it, and she darted away, Kalydi’s long nails scraping her face, seeking her eyes.
“Mine! All mine!”
It was a demonic shout, one no human should have been able to create, and as they fell to the ground, fighting, the door swung open, and Erend stood, gasping.
“It’s a trap! A trap!”
Erend pushed his way through the door, gasping. He seemed not to see or hear Azalea, only staring fixedly at Kalydi, as a demonic smile spread across his face.
Kalydi quickly broke away, and retreated somersaulted to stand a bit away.
“You thought you could trick me, did you, Kalydi? It may surprise you to see that, even after all these years I know who you are! That ugly smirk… Ruderalis! How long have you been possessing people, my dear sir? How long have you been ripping your soul apart? You’re the general, possessing Kalydi!”
“What?” Azalea said quickly. “What do you mean, po–” she stopped short , realizing what Erend had said.
“Erend…” she whispered weakly. Erend slowly turned to face her. She reached out to him, then stepped back as she noticed that he was staring right at her… She suddenly realized – he couldn’t see her. The arcane presence was extremely strong here, and she suddenly realized Kalydi – no, the General – had masked her presence to Erend.
Erend recovered, and spun back to the General, as she - he - laughed, stepping towards him, as she walked, her face twisting and falling away into an eternal abyss, the entrance coated in a black mist, one that could only be light’s prison. Could only be hell. Could only be death.
“Then it’s time?”
Erend’s expression was gone, replaced with the one Azalea had seen when they had first stepped into the portal; Determination. It was as though they had never set foot into the cursed forest. Like all his worries had been lost, replaced with a hunger. A hunger for revenge.
“Always.”
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Chapter 11: A Fallen Prince
The figure faded, even before it had finished forming. Yet she knew, without a doubt who it had been… who it should have been. That man… Atarashī. She struggled for some kind of confirmation in his features, but saw none… his eyes were alight with anger, and contempt. Gunshots split the silence, and Atarashī dove to the ground, pulling her with him, laying there as the bullets passed overhead. Her uncle crouched in fear, hands over his head. Without wasting an instant, Atarashī whirled back up. “They’re here…” He turned to her uncle. “We’ll finish this later. Neither of us want to be caught by them.” Then he whirled, and departed into shadow, swirling while still holding Azalea until they touched down on soft grass, and he flicked his Term off, refusing to meet her gaze.
∗ ∗ ∗
The General snapped his fingers, and a tall staff appeared floating a few inches in the air. He She grabbed it, and sparks flew from his body to it. He spun on his her heel, and his body twirled, spinning until it seemed to be a black tornado. Slowly, he stopped spinning, though a small black mist hung, spinning before molding onto his her face, yet somehow allowing her terrible features to remain, twisted into some inhuman form. He laughed, a terrible laugh, and Azalea shivered, stepping back. Erend touched his hand to his chest, whispering quickly, his eyes never leaving Kalydi. A green glow erupted from his chest, a massive, thick cylinder, meeting the impact of his hand, and he wobbled for a moment, then slowly, so slowly, pushed the cylinder. He grunted in pain, but pushed on, until he had pushed the cylinder back into his body. His arm grew swollen, then suddenly burst into a flash of green light. He pulled his arm away, extending it, while his left hand groped for a phial hidden in his vest. He drank it quickly, then flicked his extended wrist. A knife appeared in his right hand, and he clenched it.
Kalydi - or, now the General - smirked, snickering.
“That’s the best you can do?”
Her voice was a man’s voice, harsh, guttural, terrifying. The shadows that should have been her face molded into – it couldn’t be. That painting…
Then her body exploded, forming the rest of what Azalea had feared her whole life.
It was the general.
He was here.
And yet… Something still didn’t seem right. There was something… different about his face. Unnatural. Magical, even… It didn’t fit the painting as much as she had thought it should have… And her memories of the general were different, too.
Something shot past her cheek, like a torpedo. It struck the ground in front of her and a barrier formed instantly; a dark red-gray barrier, trapping the two duelists together. The general extended his hand, snatching a sword from who-knew-where, advancing with both staff and sword in hand. Erend furrowed his brow, intent on something…
Light, brilliant, red, dangerous. Even with the barrier, Azalea could feel the heat as it rushed past her, hotter than the Pinpoint lasers the General used. Hotter than her burning red eyes. So hot it could have melted fire itself. The laser shot towards the General, and Azalea knew that no force could withstand the impact of something as terrible as that.
The General screamed, a terrible, horrible, drawn out scream, as the light consumed them, destroying the body. Then the light bounced off the barrier and away, and with a sinking feeling Azalea realized that, even though the light had consumed the General’s body, his soul was still there. He possessed bodies for a reason., she thought…
Now instead of the general, there was a suspended blue orb, swirling inside. Erend gasped, falling to his knees, coughing mounds of blood. It reminded her of the plague. Terrible and torturous until the end. Then the orb spoke, if that were possible. Rather, a voice came from the orb, the voice of the general.
“You may think you’ve won, Erend… but those of us still loyal to Icarius will no longer stand by and watch the Emperor destroy it.”
Erend coughed again, and wipeding his mouth with his sleeve, staining it red.
“You’re wrong, Ruderalis… The Emperor may have wronged you. And maybe a bit of evil has awoken inside him. But he is still the Emperor, and you would do well to remember it!”
She could hear the capital E in his voice of contempt and anger as he spoke. There was a flash of red from the orb, then another, and another. The blue orb shuddered, then dropped, stopping it’s fall only when it was an inch away from destruction.
“You can’t hide the truth from her forever, Erend… There are two sides to every story. And it’s about time she heard it from both of them.”
“Three.” Erend gasped. “There is a third force. The Ikern will watch her. They will keep her away from your grasp. You will never possess her, nor catch her!”
“Ha! You think your people are strong enough to face me? ME?”
The voice came from the orb, but it was much too loud to be encased in something so small.
Then the orb turned, and somehow she knew it was turning its face, if it had had one, to her. Then it screamed - if that was what it could be called, and shot towards her. Before she knew what was happening, it had grabbed her wooden block, the thing Kalydi – before she had transformed – had called a soul catcher. She cried out as it was ripped from her, feeling some mental pain, something she had felt before but couldn’t place. She started to run after the orb, barely managing to graze the wooden block. Then the orb disintegrated, and she was left, her heart feeling half wrenched from her. But it was worse, and she was afraid that this was what was causing most of her pain: The wooden block, that last piece of her family… was gone.
Before she could register more, the pain increased immensely. She coughed, sobbing in agony, and bent to the ground, squeezing her eyes shut as memories flickered past her, just slow enough to show her… tell her… her past.
A strangled cough from Erend pulled her unwillingly away. He kneeled, bent over, his mouth opening and closing, like a fish out of water. She flew to his side, and thumped him on the back. He drew in a shaky breath, and she sighed in relief. He slowly allowed himself to fall into a laying position. He coughed, and she felt the air around them grow thick, the scent unmistakable. Smoke. She pulled Erend by his arms, pausing only to kick the door open, before running as fast as she could backwards while lugging Erend’s still body.
She paused as far as she could from the house, and lay Erend on the ground. His eyes were dimming, and he struggled to breath. He groped for her hand, and squeezed it weakly.
Erend’s eyes suddenly snapped open, and he cried out in a voice, that was not his own Azalea had never heard before.
“Atarashī… Danger… Help him!!!”
Then he relaxed, and his eyes closed for the last time.
“No…” she whispered, drawing back.
“No…”
She grabbed him, shaking him. “No! You can’t leave me! What did you mean, the Ikern? What about Atarashī? I… I need you… Please… Don’t leave…”
Tears sprang unheeded to her eyes, and she sobbed bitterly, kneeling beside him, and feeling his forehead. It was still hot… But then, she thought, why wouldn’t it be? It was only that she had thought something would be different now that he was…
“Dead”, her mind told her.
“An heroic death.” She insisted.
“But still – Dead.” Her mind repeated, ruthless.
She thought of how the forest had crazed him. How his mind had destroyed him, from the inside out. And yet… She didn’t know how she knew, but she was certain that he had been sane before he had died.
He had known who she was.
He had known who he was.
Before he had died.
He had known.
Because, in the end, he had been right.
Even though the general had taken away his memories of her, he had managed to bring them back.
He had managed to remember her.
He had managed to understand himself.
In the end, it didn’t matter that he was weak. It didn’t matter that he was insane. It didn’t matter that the General had defeated him.
Because in the end, he had overcome all that.
And he had known who he was.
Not something she could say about herself.
“It should have been me…” She whispered.
“It should have been…”
Her spirit crawled out of her still form, and lay beside her, brushing beside her, nudging her to stand. Slowly, she did so, turning to face the burning house.
“I will kill you.” She whispered.
“I will kill you a thousand times over.”
∗ ∗ ∗
Three figures cloaked in sand-colored cloaks rendered nearly invisible on the dusted landscape. Unrecognizable shadows in the decaying void. The one distinguishing feature: their stance. All three walked confidently. As though they weren’t trekking through impossibly dangerous territory. As though their lives weren’t in danger just by being.
Nervous, yes. But still, confident.
They had a task to complete; a task that all three would see done no matter the cost.
Even if it meant death.
Beneath the hoods, three sets of eyes scanned the landscape, taking in every detail. They were looking for something.
Or, rather, someone.
The figure on the right suddenly halted, raising their hand, clutching a small stick. If it hadn’t been so parched, if the sun hadn’t been directly overhead, if the figure hadn’t been in a desert, then the stick might have glowed a bit. In another time, another place, it would have been called a Pale.
The remaining two figures pivoted slightly, and withdrew two more Pales, pointing them outwards, towards an approaching black shadow.
“A sand storm.”
The figure in the center cursed quietly, and tucked away their Pale.
“Its shadow seems to be moving quickly… quicker than usual…” The first figure looked up. “And yet the sun…”
“Has not moved enough.” The last figure finished. As one, the three figures turned to look up.
“Lyns.” hissed the figure in the center, then, glancing at his companions, who stood frozen in shock, he shouted. “Lyns! Run!”
Finally, the first figure pulled their eyes away from the sight, and raced after the running man. Then they turned, and slapped the still-paralyzed face of the last person, then took off running again, pulling them behind. The half-paralyzed figure’s hood flew back as a rush of wind whistled past them, their face now visible.
There was no mistaking those features. There was no mistakingNor that tall scar on the cheekbone.
It was Echo.
“Flint!” Echo cried out, reaching toward the leading figure. Flint spun, still, running backwards, and looked at Echo. Clay - the last figure - supported Echo as he gasped for breath.
“Behind you!”
Flint spun, unleashing a flash of light, his Pale in his hand, pointed ahead. A second sand storm had crept up on them while they had been running.
Clay skid to a stop beside Flint, allowing Echo to stagger for a moment before righting himself. He pushed back the hood of his cloak, and Flint did the same. Their eyes darted, searching for an escape. There was none. They were trapped between two packs of Lyns. And behind that, sandstorms. The three companions stood back to back, pales out, facing the oncoming advancement of the shadows.
“Echo, Flint… it was nice knowing you.” Clay said, his voice trembling just a bit. “I only wish we could have found Azalea before this happened.”
Flint nodded tersely, but didn’t answer.
“No. This is NOT the end. This is NOT our last battle. Because I certainly intend to keep living, and I will personally kill you myself and let you die a terrible, painful death if you give up now.” Echo snapped, flicking his Pale, and felling the first shadow that had come too close.
Flint glanced quickly at Echo, then bit his lip until the blood ran freely. “That’s a suitable threat, I suppose…” He flicked his own Pale. “So I have no choice but to listen to you.”
Clay smirked, chuckling. “Since when did you become so bloodthirsty, Echo?”
Before Echo could answer, the shadows roared, and burst towards them. The air was alive with the screeching of the Lyns, the flashes of the Pales, and the sound of the sandstorm as it finally reached the scene. The two sandstorms collided, and a downfall of sand spread through the already nearly-invisible area, the two sandstorms refusing to go one way or another. The only thing that stopped the three defenders from separating was the touch of their shoulder blades as they flashed Lyn after Lyn, hitting another before the first body had even hit the ground.
∗ ∗ ∗
Her feet sloshed in the mud, and her fingernails still bled freely, oozing out from cracks in the dirt caked under her nails. They stung, but her shoulders stung more. She set down the body carefully, and sat down heavily, the throbbing sensation in her arms slowly subsiding. Though that wasn’t much comfort to her, either. She knew that as soon as she picked the body up again, the pain would start again. She glanced at his face, and sighed heavily, thinking of what she had seen in Kalydi’s home. Those countless rows of souls, forever trapped in time, waiting to be freed. But Rubela’s condition was more important than the souls that had waited years to be freed. They would have to wait a little longer. She gasped as her heart shot ice-cold tendrils of pain coursing through her body, and she doubled over until it faded, though it was still there. A constant reminder of what she had lost. Her mother’s soul… She closed her eyes. She had walked for hours, carrying Erend’s heavy body. She knew she shouldn’t make camp here, in the forest that he had lost his mind in. But she was so tired… An ice-cold pain pulsed through her head, and she groaned, falling to her knees, grabbing and squeezing her head. The spasm swirled her head, pulling her in towards the memory.
“No… Not now, please…” Azalea gasped, her voice barely a whisper.
Then the spasm finally pulled her in, and she collapsed into the evocation.
But this spasm wasn’t like what she normally experienced. This spasm wasn’t a figment of her past; at least, nothing she recognized. Everything was black - except for massive, green, cat-like eyes with a predatory glint, staring. Only staring, but no matter where she turned, they followed her. They blinked, plunging her into dark once again, and she felt like she was falling, jolting her from the vision just as falling out of her house all that time ago had jolted her away from the light.
Another vision pulled her into a new world. She was laying on the ground, staring up as her house burned. Long, blackened pieces of charred wood fell down, some colliding painfully with her. She couldn’t even move to curl away from the wood. Not even to blink. A particularly large log hung by a few bits of wood. She closed her eyes, praying, before hearing a loud SNAP. Then Atarashī was somehow there, pushing her out of the way of the log, covering her as the log collided with his back in a sickening crunch. And they were rolling down the hill, until she came to a rest in a lopsided position. Atarashī got to his feet, stumbling a bit, groaned, then looked up quickly - there were torches in the distance, shouting echoing around them. He took off, running to the forest. She made a half-hearted attempt to join him, then collapsed back onto the ground, passing out.
She pulled herself out of the spasm. There was something she had forgotten… Something about Atarashī… But before she could figure out what it was, she fell unconscious from exhaustion.
If she hadn’t been unconscious, she might’ve seen how her scars were glowing a bright, hot blue. She might’ve felt the world tilt as reality reshaped itself around her, transporting her back to the room with the green mist where she had last seen Rubela.
She might’ve realized that, by touching Rubela, she wasn’t just healing her.
She was giving her back her soul.
And maybe, if she hadn’t been sleep walking, she would’ve felt the burning hot heat of the wooden cube her mother had given her all that time ago, pressing against her side.
But she was unconscious, so she would not feel any of that.
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Chapter 12: Lynmaster
flicked his Term off, refusing to meet her gaze. She coughed up blood, and he finally sat down beside her, his eyes fading away from red, back to the brilliant blue she knew so well. “Being in that house takes your powers away.” He said, after a while. She looked up. “What do you mean?” He continued on as though he hadn’t heard her. “Or maybe it’s the people who live in it. I don’t know. But whatever it is, you need to get out. Those men – the ones outside. They’re looking for you. And there’s something else.” He pulled out a long, feathered Fuse. Azalea would’ve mistaken it for an arrow if it didn’t have the unmistakable design on the tip of it. So was it a Sparke? But those were incredibly rare, weren’t they? And they were only used… She sucked in breath at the realization. They were only used when one needed to light fire to something, and they needed to be far away. But that meant that
∗ ∗ ∗
It was dark in the cell.
And wet.
He moved, trying to find a comfortable position against the cool, hard stone. There must have been at least an inch of water on the ground, full of things he didn’t dare to think about. The chains bit into his hands, but at least they weren’t gushing blood anymore. Instead, a thin scab ran along both edges. If he squinted, he could sense it. Just a bit darker of a shadow surrounding it.
His face was a different matter altogether. On the right side of his head, just above his ear, a massive scabbed crater sat. The scabs were layered there, almost as though they hadn’t been able to finish scabbing before another wave of blood had interrupted the process, then scabbed partially. It hurt like hell, too.
He coughed, blood and saliva mixing together.
It wasn’t supposed to have been like this.
It was definitely not supposed to be like this.
His chains rattled as he slumped back, giving up on finding a comfortable position.
He could only hope that the thing that had caught him and his friends wouldn’t catch Azalea.
He was so tired.
But he had one last task to do.
After all, he was Echo.
∗ ∗ ∗
Green.
Perfect green.
Azalea blearily opened her eyes - first one, and then the other. She muttered something indistinct, and felt a burning hot hand pressing against her forehead. Voices, but she was too tired to care what they were saying.
When she finally sat up, rubbing her eyes, the light receded, and she saw where she was. Sanction.
But how had she gotten there? And was Rubela all right? At least she knew that these people, the Ikern… they were good. Or at least Erend had been.
She looked across the room, and spotted Rubela, also slowly sitting up.
“Hey.” She called.
“You okay?”
Rubela coughed, and nodded. “Yeah. What happened?”
Azalea sighed, and fell back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I might finally understand what I need to do.”
Rubela was silent for a moment, then she groaned exasperatedly. “Will you maybe say a sentence that makes sense for once?”
“I think that there’s this weapon I have. Or skill. I don’t know. I need to go fix everything. Stop the General and Emperor. And there’s something else out there. Controlling the Lyns. I can just feel it, you know?”
“Not exactly… you’re saying you don’t really know much else except that you have a skill or weapon and we need to go out and fix stuff? And that there’s this mysterious person who’s controlling the lyns, which you know because you can feel it. Did I miss anything?”
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic!”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, when do we go?”
“They won’t let me leave.”
Rubela finally spared a suffering glance in her direction. “What do you mean, they won’t let you leave?”
Azalea gestured at the Sanction. “The Ikern. They say it’s too dangerous. That I’m too important.” She looked at Rubela. “You agree with them, don’t you?”
Rubela fidgeted. “I think that this is the first time I’ve felt safe in so long. But… I don’t think that anyone is right. The general and emperor are just plain evail. The Ikern are good, but indifferent. They seem to just want to wait until either the general or emperor dies, and then attack. But that would mean that the world would already be destroyed.”
Azalea narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying?”
Rubela exhaled softly. “I’m saying we need to leave. I’m saying we need to start our own resistance group. I’m saying… I’m saying that if you’re so damn set on fixing the world, we need to forget the other resistance groups, and solve this on our own. I know you’re important. I know that there’s some undiscovered power you have that we need to use. But honestly, Azalea. Do you really think we can fix the world lying in an infirmary? I think the Ikern are good, sure. I just think that we need to get a move on. Azalea… I think we need to leave.”
Azalea was silent for a moment as a grin spread across her face.
“You just put everything I didn’t know I was thinking into words. When do we go?”
Rubela stretched, and somersaulted off the bed. “Why not Tomorrow?”
Azalea swung her legs off her bed, and yawned loudly. “I just told you they won’t let me leave.”
Rubela smirked. “Who says they get say over what we do? We can at least try it! And if they try to stop us–” she mimed punching something in the head.
Azalea bit her lip. “I don’t think we’d be able to…”
Rubela laughed. “Come on! You can teleport, and I know how to do hand-to-hand combat, plus I have this other lame thingy that probably won’t be useful but we could use it! But anyway, we should get ready–” She was speaking rapid fire now, and by the time Azalea had been pulled out of the room, she had passed on from the topic of the “thingy” that she had.
Sanctium
For reference, from earlier in the book::::
Undetected, a pair of large green, cat-like eyes watched from behind them with calm, calculating eyes.
Meltos.
Now was not the time to strike.
But he would not have to wait long.
The choice was coming.
Soon.
The massive eyelids closed, and he disappeared into just another tree’s shadow, watching. Waiting for the chance to strike.
Soon.
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Comments for the Entire Story
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NOTE: THIS STORY IS NOT COMPLETED YET! IF YOU LIKE IT, THEN I WILL FINISH IT FASTER >:)
Comment by raob9 on May 22, 2025Liked by 0
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