by Casey Eanes
“What?” He held it there, shocked. Nothing was happening. The blood rolled down the mirror without any showcase of power. The small sacrifice was impotent and void of any confirming sign of Isphet’s presence.
“WHERE IS HE?!” Seam turned, his eyes wild with hate and rage. Abtren and Bastion sat crumbled in the corner of the titan, their eyes filled with fear and confusion.
Abtren stuttered, trying to find the words. “I...I have no answer for this, Keeper.” She stood, pointing at the glass mirror. “Arakiel said that he was locked in the portal, just like us all. Did the monk switch it with a decoy?” She stared at the empty mirror, searching for some excuse to justify the failed sacrifice.
Seam turned, focusing on Bastion’s green eyes. The Serub would not make eye contact with him, pinning his gaze to the floor. No words passed from his lips, and Seam ran, cursing to the cockpit of his titan.
“Stop the titan. Stop it now!” the High King screamed.
Commander Reed followed the order, and Seam ran to the back of the transport. The forest surrounding the convoy was still burning and even within the titan, Seam could feel the heat. Preost had become a furnace of his burning revenge against the monks. Seam ran full speed to the back of the titan, kicking in the door.
There, chained to the wall of the titan, hung the Exile. Seam wasted no time grabbing Luken by the throat.
Luken let out a muffled scream as the High King’s hand clasped around his throat like a vise, his mere touch siphoning away his energy.
Seam turned to the mysterious Serub who had eluded him for so long, the Sixth who had never been imprisoned. “You. The last of your kin will not appear before me when I offer my blood on the mirror. Why?!”
Luken gave a grim smile. “I guess Isphet doesn’t like your flavor, Seam. He must prefer something sweeter.”
Seam sneered and Luken’s body erupted with black fire. Luken screamed, pain cascading and building through his entire body.
“Wrong answer, Exile,” Seam chided. “Rest assured, I will find out the truth from you. We have a long time to spend together until we reach Zenith, so save your jokes and barbs. They will not afford you any mercy from me.”
Luken’s eyes opened, his body still smoking from the torture brought upon him. “I’m so sorry, Seam.” Luken looked up, his eyes still brightly defiant. “I’m afraid I’m going to be a big disappointment to you. You see, I’m not like the other gods you unlock from the mirrors who bow down to you because of your Keys. I’m a little more...stubborn.”
Seam smiled before Luken’s body ignited again with black flames. “I’ve got all the time in the world, Exile.”
Luken’s scream trailed as Seam gave up his grip on him. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the words hammered into Seam’s heart. “No...no High King. You just think you do. I’m afraid your time is running out.”
Grift drifted in and out of consciousness. When his mind tried to fire to life, his eyes only saw the white, glazed eyes of the morels surrounding him.
Soon the darkness relented, and Grift was able to emerge back into his horror-filled reality. The morels were packed all around him constricting his breathing, threatening to bring him into a panic attack.
Calm down. Calm down. Grift struggled to hold his thoughts together. They aren’t aware. As Grift’s heart slammed in his chest like a ricocheting bullet, he gained enough clarity to calm himself.
Each minute of motion from the transport caused the bodies to shift, and Grift braced himself for his end, fearing the mindless would awake from their slumber to devour him. The soulless faces of men, women, and children were a haunting sight, but to be this close to them, to feel them pressing in on him from all sides, was excruciating. Baggers...all of them.
Poor souls. How did this happen? How did Candor fall so fast? Grift’s heart sank deep within his gut as a knot tightened in his throat. For so long he had fought at King Camden’s side, fighting to maintain a peace and order. Peace had been earned when he was just a young man under Camden’s leadership. But now, only a year after Camden’s passing, Candor was burning again, full of war and bloodshed with the worst yet to come. The horrific truth of the Resistance's failure fell over him like load of bricks. Seam has all the Keys...and now all the mirrors.
Grift shook out his arms and exhaled as he tried his best to fight off the panic setting in. You must fight. Don’t give in to this darkness. Grift looked at the black sheet metal ceiling and closed his eyes as he spoke. “Kull, you died saving my life. I will die trying to end Seam’s…” He paused, his mind grasping for a light in the dark place. “Aleph, I don’t know what else to do.”
Willyn swallowed hard and took a deep breath as one of her own rooks turned on her, ripping through Lion unit. The members of Wolf unit had just breached the inner city limits before turning back.
“Just confirmed a weapon lock, sir. They are not running from battle; they are turning on us!”
Willyn thought back to the battle at the Serpent's Spine. The Serubs had taken over her forces then and decimated much of the Red exodus to Rhuddenhall. The Serubs were using the same tactics again. Willyn swung her gun’s barrel in the direction of the nearest rook and steadied her aim as she called over her datalink.
“We have units compromised. If engaged, take immediate action.” Willyn clicked off the line and pulled the trigger as her rook was within range of one of the rogue units. Her shot was true. The bullets hammered through the thin armor of the attacking rook and sent it smashing into a nearby building. She barked new commands to her men. “ON ME! Keep your eyes on those who have turned and take them out!” As Wolf unit scrambled on Willyn’s position, three of the mind-controlled rooks broke left, while the other two swept to their right, circling around Willyn’s position.
They’re trying to block Wolf’s maneuver! Two against one. Aleph above.
“Hard left!” Willyn screamed. Mundi obeyed and they spun around, mirroring the movements of the compromised rooks that were trying to speed around and flank them. Mundi engaged his mortar cannon and popped off three rounds as Willyn led the two rogue units with her chain gun. The final mortar blast hit directly in front of one of the war machines, catapulting it into a fiery tumbleweed, reeling into a construction site with a triumphant explosion. The second compromised rook flew straight into Willyn’s line of fire and wilted beneath her guns.
“Bringing us around,” Mundi called to Willyn. “Trying to locate our other friends.”
The three rogues that engaged with Wolf unit had managed to keep pace with Willyn. They left themselves blind to any attack from the rear. So self-assured. The Serubs thought those other two rooks would take us down. Willyn opened fire and tore through the three rogue vehicles, the cheering voices of Wolf unit screaming with praise through her datalink. She settled in behind her gun and smiled, aiming her sights for her next victim when a massive blow crashed over her shoulders, knocking her flat against the thin metal decking of the rook. She felt her body collapse, as her breath was violently pushed out of her lungs.
Willyn glanced up to find a morel standing over her, its fangs exposed and its razor claws ready to pounce, but Willyn’s attention went beyond the morel standing over her to the skyline behind its head. Morels were leaping from the skyscrapers onto the Grogan rooks below to avoid the quills. The mass of bodies was so immense their black silhouettes threatened to dampen the desert sun beating down on the city streets. Another morel landed on top of Willyn’s rook and smashed its fist against the cockpit glass until it grasped Mundi and ripped him from his seat. Their rook lost control, teetering first, and then careening to the side, smashing through a brick wall of one of the buildings lining the main thoroughfare.
Willyn could do little to cover her head as the rook crashed into the structure. The morels that attacked the craft were tossed away, while Willyn’s tether held her to the war machine as it spun like a dervish. The force of the spinning nearly dislodged her hip. She fought through the dull, aching
pain and dragged herself from the wreckage into the open warehouse where her rook crashed.
The battle continued to rage outside as the sounds of explosions and gunfire bounced off the high sheet metal ceiling overhead. She could hear the sound of hundreds of morel enemies streaming into the battle, their high-pitched barks and screams filling her mind with fear. Willyn examined the wreckage and shook her head. The building had shifted with her rook’s crash and sealed up the exit. She fumbled for a way out of the construction site, squinting through blurry vision as she tried to orient herself. Nausea cascaded over her and she tried her hardest not to double over and vomit from the pain radiating through her body. She fell to her knees and panted for breath.
“Get up.” The voice sliced through the pain and pricked her ears. “Keep fighting.” Willyn fought to focus her eyes as she called out.
“Mundi?”
There was no response, and no other presence. The crash must have rattled her mind. She had seen Mundi die under the morel’s attack. She looked around, and there was no one there. Voice or not, she would not give in. She could not give up. Not now. Hagan had been inches from his death, but he never gave up his fight and neither would she. She lifted herself to a knee and got back to two feet. She leaned over to clasp her knees and took in a deep breath when a force as violent as an earthquake smashed against her and sent her sliding across the cement floor.
“Augh!” Willyn’s mouth filled with blood as she rolled to her stomach. She fought to lift her head, gazing through her tangled red hair to find her attacker. Her heart dropped as the voice of Arakiel filled her ears.
“You got away once before, but this time I will enjoy crushing you. Your petty insistence on challenging us ends today. You and your little machines are no match for a god, much less two.”
Arakiel stalked forward as Nyx floated behind him, like some demented wraith. Her eyes were pools of death, locking on the broken Sar. Arakiel bent and lifted Willyn by her tactical vest, heaving her into the air as if she were a toy, her feet dangling two feet off the ground.
The Serub sneered at her. “Did you really believe a few bullets or bombs could stop us?” Arakiel asked, laughing. He lowered Willyn so her eyes leveled with his own. “We cannot be stopped.”
Willyn gazed upon Arakiel’s chiseled face and his brown, perfectly groomed hair. By any standard he would be beautiful, but even this gorgeous facade did nothing to hide his hideous nature. Willyn gathered spit and blood in her mouth and spat into Arakiel’s face, struggling to wrench herself free from his grasp. He wiped a drop of blood from his cheek and sucked it clean before smiling and leaning in to whisper next to Willyn’s ear.
“Thank you. I wondered how your blood tasted. I will be sure to savor it.”
A voice rang out in the empty building, echoing in the emptiness. “STOP! By the authority of the High King. Stop!” The voice bounced around the room and startled Arakiel to the point he nearly dropped Willyn. He roared and turned to face a feeble man sprinting into the room flanked by Dominion troops.
“What do you want, Bronson? How dare you interrupt me?”
Bronson stuttered and pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the Spire. “Uh...the king, sir. He demands that Willyn Kara be saved for his sovereign judgment!”
Arakiel hurled Willyn to the ground and snatched Bronson by the throat. He leveled burning eyes onto the king’s aid, examining his unshaven, dirty face. The Serub snarled as he inhaled deeply, drawing his magnificent face within inches of Bronson.
“Give me one reason I should listen to you, worm. Pathetic servant of an unworthy king.” Arakiel’s fist tightened, cutting the blood to Bronson’s head. Bronson groggily bobbed in Arakiel’s clutches as he fought not to pass out. “I will just kill you now and take the girl for my own. Your king would be none the wiser.”
Bronson wheezed and puffed for breath as he swatted at Arakiel’s forearm, trying to motion for the Serub’s attention.
“Arakiel!” Seam’s voice boomed from Bronson’s datalink. “Her death is my reward. Now stand down!”
Arakiel ground his teeth in hot rage and tossed Bronson to the side of the room. He looked at his sister and spoke, his whisper full of spite. “Come, Nyx. There is much more Grogan blood to feast on. We will leave these broken fools for Seam.”
Dominion foot soldiers poured over Bronson, their faces full of fear and concern. Bronson stood, shaken but unharmed, and pointed to Willyn. “That’s her, boys. Get her up and let’s move her to the holding cell. The king will be here soon.”
Bronson glanced down at his datalink display and offered a smile of yellow teeth to Seam. “Soon she will be all yours, sire. She will be in holding cell five. Signing off for now.”
Bronson motioned and the soldiers hoisted Willyn from the floor. They dragged her toward a small door at the back of the building. Willyn’s dangling feet bounced along the gravel alleyway as two soldiers carried her, each looping an arm under her shoulder. Bronson staggered ahead of the pack as they dashed for the Spire. The sound of explosions and gunfire filled the entire city, but the war was still contained outside of Seam’s impenetrable complex. Willyn groaned in pain, knowing that her forces were dying one by one as they fought against the immortals. Yet she could not believe her luck. They were dragging her right where she wanted to be, into the very heart of Zenith.
Aleph held the key out to Kull, who stared at it, eyes wide.
“What is that?” Kull’s voice wavered in the dark place shared only with Aleph. The divine ran a silver chain through the blue key’s intricate head and hung the key around Kull’s neck. He laid his hands on Kull’s shoulders and looked over him, into the portals.
“This is the final Key of Candor, Kull. Indeed, it is the only true key of power that Candor has ever known.” Kull’s face filled with questions, but Aleph’s voice made them dissipate. “With this comes the weight and might of all my power and the ability to open many doors.” Aleph turned toward the four open doorways before Kull. “Your first choice lies before you, Kull Shepherd, and it is yours alone to make. Which door will you unlock?”
Kull’s eyes scanned the scenes unfolding before him. His father, crammed into a chamber full of morels, was shackled and captured once again by Seam. Willyn was being dragged to the Spire’s footsteps. Wael and Adley lay close to death on the floor of the smoldering sanctuary of Taluum. Kull’s heart raced with an impossible intensity as he tried to steady his breathing. His heart broke for the pain suffered by those he loved, and his blood boiled as he thought about Seam. Kull’s fists tightened by his side as he exhaled.
Aleph turned Kull’s shoulder to face the portal leading to Rose, her beauty and peacefulness a startling contrast to the pain and despair displayed in the windows peering down on Candor. Aleph spoke quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “Or, Kull, do you stay?”
Kull looked to Aleph, but his countenance refused to sway Kull’s decision one way or the other. Kull scanned the doors leading back to Candor, as well as the one where his mother dwelt in peace in Aether. His mother, the woman that for so long he had longed to see and speak with, approached the doorway, staring right at him. She strolled toward him through the fields of Aether, stepping closer through the glowing amber stalks tipped with indigo. They swayed gently as she ran her hand over the field. A sapphire sky rolled overhead with white clouds dotting the horizon. Others joined her side as she gently strolled toward him. They were laughing and singing, all of their faces alight with such joy. Kull had never seen the others before, but he knew them immediately. His grandparents were there with his mother. They are all there, Kull realized. They were all waiting for him and Grift to join them. A feeling of euphoria lifted Kull’s heart as he gazed on the scene that pulled at him like an invisible magnet.
Kull took another glance at the portals of Candor and then back again on his family waiting in Aether. He took in a deep breath and nodded to Aleph as he stepped forward, the Key of Candor held tightly in his hand.
“Drop her here.” Bronson motioned toward a barren slick of the polished marble floor. The Dominion soldiers followed the order, laying Willyn within one of the Spire’s lower chambers.
Bronson glanced over his shoulder and nodded at the two soldiers guarding the door. The two stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind them, leaving Willyn, Bronson, and ten Dominion guards in the dimly lit room.
Willyn stood, her body screaming with each move she made. Bronson’s appearance was all that saved her from dying under Arakiel’s hand, but Bronson’s motives appeared to be no less sinister. He was saving her for Seam. Her mind focused on one thing: escape. Seam will not hold me in this tower to die. “Damn you, Bronson.” Willyn spat at Bronson’s feet and fought her arms free from the guards. She whipped a small blade from her hip and bolted toward her captor before one of the soldiers tackled her.
Bronson stared at her, shocked at the words. “I am already damned, for all you see is the culmination of my life’s work, Willyn Kara.” Willyn blinked, not understanding as she threw herself against the three Dominion soldiers holding her. Bronson continued, “This is it!” He choked back tears as he made a sweeping motion across the room with his arms. “This is all I have to give you!”
“This is what? You worthless dog!” Willyn screamed.
“The Resistance, Willyn.” Bronson’s words echoed in the dark as he sunk to the floor and cupped his head in his hands. “These are all I was able to muster.” Bronson shook his head and his voice dropped. “You are right. I am worthless.”
The words stunned Willyn. “So you...did not betray me?”
Bronson offered a chuckle as he looked up with swollen, exhausted eyes. “No. Not you. I have betrayed myself, my family, my soul...yes. But I have never betrayed our cause. I’ve done all I could do to make sure Seam’s plans would fail...”