Children of Enochia

by Luke R. Mitchell

  “No,” I said quickly. “Of course not. I was just…”

  “There’s something on your mind this morning?”

  Slowly, I nodded. It was the first question I really wasn’t sure how to answer.

  So far, it had all been rather tame—a quick exchange of niceties and a short, simplified introduction to what a Shaper actually was, how they came by the gifts, and what they could and could not do with them. It had been more terrifying than I would’ve thought, revealing so much so freely to the people who wanted me dead. I felt naked, and I could only imagine half the Shapers on the planet would be cursing my name as they saw this.

  But Franco had told me to trust that Barbara knew what she was doing, and I did. She was here to show the world who I was. And seeing as I had nothing to show but a long line of epic failures in that department, I wasn’t about to fight her lead in any of this.

  Besides, beyond hopefully calming the public’s irrational fear of demonic powers, it wasn’t like knowing the basics of Shaping was going to hand the people of Enochia any particularly useful tools for finding and eliminating us. The only truly useful tools in that fight had been the Seekers, and the Sanctum was sorely missing those now. Not that that had stopped the enraged masses. Hence my distraction.

  “There was disturbing news in the reels this morning,” I finally answered. “I guess I’m still getting over the shock of it. I apologize.”

  “You’re referring to the first reported casualties of the Sanctum’s war on demons?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Though I worry that those casualties may have in fact been innocent victims.”

  “Do you mean that in the sense that you fundamentally disagree with the High Cleric’s imperative?”

  I shook my head. “Look, we all know I’d be lying if I said I agreed with the High Cleric’s decision to declare war on gifted individuals, but no. When I say innocent victims, what I mean is that I’m worried we might be seeing non-Shaper civilians murdered by an overeager militia.”

  “A chilling notion,” Barbara said gravely. “Though, as I understand it, many clerics have already been instructed to educate their worshipers in the detection and handling of demon kind. Are you saying that these teachings are ineffective?”

  I bristled at the absurdity of the statement. I couldn’t help it, cameras or no. It was just too ridiculous to think that anyone could buy into such bullscud. What were they telling them in there, that you’d just know the demons when you saw them? That you’d feel the evil taint in the air? And who in their right minds would honestly think mass worship halls of untrained civilians could be taught to handle dangerous hostiles by verbal instruction alone—and by gropping clerics, nonetheless?

  At the edge of my vision, behind the camera crew, I caught Franco giving me the gesture to take a deep breath. I did, and the world settled just a touch. “What I’m saying is that the only thing capable of identifying a telepath is another telepath.”

  Barbara adopted the eyebrow quirk I was coming to read as her tough question face. “So when the High Cleric admitted that he and the Sanctum have been fighting a clandestine war against demon kind for decades now, are you implying that he was lying and that the Sanctum in fact lacks the tools to wage such a war?”

  Deep breaths. Calm breaths.

  I gave her my best apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Barbara. I came here to try to set the record straight about myself and the Shapers of Enochia. I’d rather not make any wild accusations. If the High Cleric sees fit, I’m sure he can elaborate on what tools the Sanctum has or has not employed against people like me in the past.”

  Never had I felt so much like I was walking on eggshells.

  “In the meanwhile, though,” I pushed on, “I would just like to urge anyone out there thinking they’ve found one of these so-called demons to understand that there’s an overwhelming chance they’re going to end up murdering innocent civilians in the name of Alpha.”

  “A bold statement. But I wonder, are you able to quantify it? Do you know how many gifted—that is to say, how many of your kind—are out there across Enochia?”

  I shook my head. “Sadly, as far as I know, the only real records that ever existed for people like me were destroyed many centuries ago.”

  Barbara’s brow perked at the word, centuries, but she didn’t interrupt as I continued.

  “My teacher didn’t know exactly, either, but he was under the impression that there likely weren’t more than a few hundred of us on the planet, and that very few of those would ever reach a level of proficiency with their abilities to actually be much danger to anyone.”

  “You say that, and yet we’ve all seen the footage of the things you can do. Is this to say that you are somehow special among your kind?”

  I tried to smile. “Is there a non-conceited answer to that question?”

  She showed me the polite facsimile of a smile but was clearly waiting for a more substantial answer.

  “Yes,” I said. “At the risk of sounding tremendously arrogant, as far as I understand, my abilities have developed much more rapidly than most Shapers experience. My teacher was the only Shaper I knew who exhibited a similar… affinity.”

  “And does that fact alone not make you question the nature of your own abilities? How can you be so sure you are not playing host to demons?”

  I swallowed. Alpha, was my mouth dry. I went for a sip of caffa, immediately started worrying the move looked suspicious, burnt the ever-loving scud out of my mouth, and sat back, trying to look thoughtful and not like I was about to scream.

  “Well, it might be a bad comparison, but take someone like Tamar Reinski.”

  “The smashball world league superstar,” Barbara clarified, clearly more for the audience than herself.

  “Exactly. I haven’t had much time to watch lately, but I know enough to know Reinski consistently pulls smashes no one else would ever dream of, and I don’t see anyone questioning whether he’s making deals with demons.”

  “Perhaps that’s because he hasn’t plucked any crashing Legion transports from plummeting to certain death with the power of his mind.”

  I tried to smile. “Well then maybe we should trade pay grades.”

  Alpha, how much more arrogant could I possibly sound? At least Barbara’s smile looked genuine this time.

  “You asked how I could be sure I’m not playing host to the demons. I guess I can’t give any definitive answer that doesn’t require some level of trust. But can anyone? What does a demon even look like? Can any of us say with full certainty that we’re not touched by these things? What I do know is that there were twenty-six lives aboard that transport on the day you refer to, including the High General of the Legion. I did what I could to save them, and nothing inside tried to stop me. I can’t prove an absence of evil in my spirit. I’m not sure anyone can. But I struggle to see how the number of lives I’ve bled to save is inconsequential in the discussion.”

  Barbara shifted back in her chair, nodding slowly as if digesting the thought. Behind the camera line, Franco gave me a dignified thumbs-up. That, at least, made me feel a bit better. I honestly couldn’t tell how much of this interview was Barbara the WAN Reporter versus Barbara the Ally. Maybe they were one in the same. I didn’t know. But whether her reactions and questions were completely off the cuff or carefully designed, she seemed to be leading me in the right direction.

  “Let’s talk about your teacher,” she said, carefully picking up her caffa for the first time. “When did you first meet Carlisle?”

  I was halfway into my standard reaction of steeling myself when I remembered what Franco and Elise had both emphatically coached. Don’t hide the emotion. Don’t try to be a shiny hero. Let them see the pain.

  “I met Carlisle the night my parents were killed by the raknoth that had once been Adrian Kublich. Carlisle saved my life that night. Once from Kublich, then again from… one of the Sanctum’s Shaper hunters.”

  Barbara cocked her head slightly. “The S
anctum came for you that night?”

  “I think they were actually looking for Carlisle, but yes, they found me. I’d learn later that it was the trauma of losing my… of what I saw that night that flipped the switch on my latent abilities and put me in their sights.”

  “And even then, realizing that you had awoken something that put you in the crosshairs of the Sanctum itself, you didn’t fear that these abilities of yours were born of darkness?”

  “Of course I did. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening at all. But once Carlisle showed me what he could do… Well, if I hadn’t already witnessed my own High General growing scales and red eyes and… doing what he did to my parents, I don’t think I would’ve believed it at all.”

  “Your world was shattered.”

  That drew my attention back to the present. I forced myself to meet Barbara’s eyes, and something about the look she was giving me made me feel it all in a way that I hadn’t since before the White Tower. “I guess that’s a fair way to put it.”

  I actually felt the pressure of tears beginning to flirt with the idea of making an appearance.

  Then Barbara’s tough question look returned without warning. “Do you think it’s possible that experience has in any way affected your grip on reality?”

  I’m not sure if I actually rocked back in my chair or not, but I certainly did mentally—shuffling to gather my thoughts and pivot, and to remind myself that I shouldn’t feel emotionally betrayed. This was her job, after all, and she’d told me she was going to press me at times.

  “If I’d been alone in a dark room all this time,” I finally started, “I admit I might still be asking myself that same question. For a while, I thought I might be losing it, that I’d had some kind of mental break. I mean, the High General of the Legion, possessed by some red-eyed monster? And then all this with the Shaping…”

  Without really thinking about it, I fixed my senses on my caffa cup and telekinetically levitated it up to float between us.

  “It was a lot to take in, you know?”

  Barbara, who’d actually rocked back in her chair at the telekinetic demonstration, gave a slow nod, her eyes riveted to the floating cup and her fingers touching the sigil of Alpha that hung from a silver chain at her breastbone. I couldn’t tell if the shocked display was for show or not.

  “But the raknoth are real,” I pushed on, hastily lowering the caffa cup back to the table. “Unfortunately, Enochia has learned that the hard way. So to answer your question, no, I don’t think my experiences have impaired my grip on reality. I just wish we could’ve done a better job of convincing the rest of the world sooner.”

  And that the Sanctum hadn’t been desperately trying to eradicate our only defense against them the entire time, I wanted to add, but that wasn’t the name of this game. Play nice. Be human. That was the goal. Even if the Sanctum refused to acknowledge those rules.

  “What about your parents?” Barbara asked. “What do you think they would say to you if they were still alive today?”

  I shifted in my seat, hesitant to come right out with it. Unlike some of Barbara’s questions today, I’d thought about this one frequently. Still did. It was probably one of the most humanizing questions she could’ve asked. And it was also the one I was least excited to open up about. If there was anything left that truly belonged to me and no one else, it was the memories of my parents.

  But there wasn’t room for such things to be sacred anymore.

  “My dad… He was a man of faith. In Alpha. In the Legion. In all my years as a tyro, I don’t think I ever met someone more disciplined.” I smiled a little, remembering the way he used to sort of flip a switch when he’d arrive home and, with a relieved sigh, finally sink onto the couch with my mom and me—still disciplined, no doubt, but in a casual, fatherly-husbandly sort of way. I’d never realized back then just how good he’d been at flipping that switch.

  I realized I’d drifted.

  “I guess that’s why it always seemed kind of funny that the one thing he used to tell me, above all else, was to always do what I thought was right, no matter the consequences. Trust in Alpha, he said. Follow your orders as best as humanly possible. Don’t even think about second-guessing a superior because you think you know how to do the job better. But never let anyone force you to do something you know in your heart is not right.” I showed Barbara a wan smile. “Coming from a decorated captain prime, I always thought it was kind of hypocritical. At least until I heard the full story about how he earned all those decorations.”

  “And how was that?”

  “He did what he knew was right. He disobeyed a direct order that he knew would get his legionnaires slaughtered, found another way to accomplish the objective, and ended up delivering the blow the historians would come to agree was the turning point of the Durin Uprising.”

  I looked over, half-expecting Barbara to point out that maybe it wasn’t as noble as I thought, having been taught life lessons by a man who, some still bickered, had technically been grossly insubordinate, but she only watched, waiting for me to continue.

  “To answer your question, I don’t really know what my parents would’ve thought of all this. All I know is that I regret it every day that my gifts awoke too late to save them. If I’d sensed what Kublich was sooner…” I shook my head. “I know it’s too late now. But it’s hard to ignore the fact that if there’d been more Shapers on Enochia to sound the warning bells, the raknoth might never have succeeded at sneaking their way into positions of power to start with. The number of lives that might’ve been saved…”

  I fumbled, grasping for the right words, suddenly unable to find them now that I’d arrived at the most important of points. How did I make the world understand this? How did I make them believe?

  The tough question look came out.

  “Do you believe in Alpha, Haldin?”

  A shot of panic hit. I’d known the question would likely be asked, but now wasn’t the time—was the worst possible time. Still tangled on the point of proving the worldwide worth of Shapers, I looked to Franco for guidance. He laid his open hand over his heart, his expression solemn.

  The truth. Just like we’d agreed.

  I looked at Barbara.

  “I thought I did. Still think I do, a lot of the time.”

  “But you’re uncertain.”

  I stared at the table between us, wondering how best to put it in a way that the average Alpha-fearing worshiper might actually be able to understand—not simply the presence or lack of faith in Alpha, but everything that flowed from that one crucial factor.

  It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t. I ran through every variation of the answers we’d talked about last night, and they all came up sounding like polymer garbage. It was impossible to show them the truth within the confines of their even stronger beliefs.

  And if it was impossible to show them the truth, I decided, I might as well just show them the impossible.

  What could possibly go wrong? said Johnny’s voice in my head, almost as clearly as if my redheaded friend had achieved telepathy and reached out to offer his encouragement. That alone probably should’ve cued me that this was a brash course of action, but I didn’t know how else to save face from my lengthy silence at this point.

  I reached out and floated my caffa cup off the table with telekinesis, then I went one step further and lifted the fluid itself up to hover over the cup in a lightly-steaming mass that held its shape when every law of nature said it should fall back to the cup and splash down to the table in a dark mess.

  “Oh…” came Barbara’s surprised murmur.

  But I wasn’t done. Even as much as I’d practiced, the next part wasn’t effortless. I might not have called it difficult, but I did have to focus pretty carefully to hold the cup aloft while I shifted the mental construct holding the caffa, elongating, straightening, and then bending and adding details until the dark fluid floated in a singular replica of the sigil of Alpha. That done, I drained
thermal energy from my liquid sculpture until it froze solid, then allowed the icy sigil to drift down to my waiting hand.

  “I’ve seen a lot of strange things these past seasons,” I finally said, offering the frozen sculpture to Barbara and allowing the empty cup to resume its place on the table. “Things that don’t fit into the picture as they should. And maybe that does mean it’s all demonic evil. But personally, I’m starting to think it might just be that we don’t actually have the complete picture just yet.”

  Hesitantly, she leaned forward and took the dark sigil. It was already starting to melt a little where our fingers touched it—caffa not being all that prone to easy freezing. Barbara didn’t seem to mind, though. She stared at the thing in open wonder.

  “Not to downplay this admittedly marvelous spectacle,” she said slowly, finally pulling her eyes up to meet mine, “but I don’t believe you answered the original question.”

  I smiled and offered her my empty cup to relieve her of the melting sigil. “If you want the honest answer, it’s that I don’t know what to believe anymore. I know that I can do things that frighten a lot of people.”

  She plopped the sigil in the cup, still watching it attentively.

  I set the cup down. “I know that we live in a universe where the raknoth exist. Whether we want to call them aliens and admit that there could be more like them out there, or if we just call them demons and leave it at that, the end result is still that they are real, and that they’re a threat to this planet. A threat that needs to be stopped and safeguarded against for future generations. That’s all I’m trying to do here. But it’s not something we can accomplish without Shapers.”

  “And what would you say to those who argue the raknoth invasion only happened because of demons, or Shapers as you say?”

  I swallowed the bitter insults that first sprang to mind and calmly spread my hands. “I’d ask them to consider the fact that the raknoth had already taken control of both the previous High General and the previous High Cleric before people like Carlisle and myself—people who are now being called demons—discovered their ploy and risked our lives to expose it. I understand that what I can do seems unnatural, but please, before you call for Shaper heads, please imagine what would’ve happened here if people like Carlisle had never existed. The raknoth were cycles away from completing an entire factory fitted to breed hybrids and drain human blood, and the vast majority of the planet had no idea about any of it. If that thought scares any of you out there half as much as it scares me, then please, let’s talk about this before we turn to genocide in the name of a holy war. Let’s see to it that Enochia is safe. I can’t make you accept me or those like me. But I intend to finish driving the raknoth from this planet, and I’d prefer it if we could all pause for a moment and consider that the only way we can be sure the planet is safe moving forward is if we can all stand together and appreciate what each side can bring to the table.”