by J G Smith
She saw the two of them, hand-in-hand, climb onto the edge and jump… into the shimmering white light and vanish.
That’s where her vision ended.
“He’s alive,” she declared, returning to her normal state of mind, only to find her and Reuben being dragged by the officials. They hadn’t gone very far, with Reuben and Desmond fighting them off.
“If you stay, you will die, along with whoever or whatever is down there,” said the officials. They didn’t want to hurt the trio, else they would’ve used their weapons. They just wanted them out of harm’s way. “An air strike has already been called.”
“No!” she cried, pulling loose from their grip. The lower ranking official pulled out his gun, desperate to get her under control, but she paid no heed. She called out for Robert, moving closer to where he was, while Reuben and Desmond stepped in front of the official’s line of fire.
Her sight shifted to the centre of the ongoing commotion between Robert, Lighkame, Lithen and the shadows – as if she was right there with them. Her stomach knotted; she felt sick, queasy. She saw Robert—no, Lighkame. The red from his eyes and veins gave him away.
There were a couple of flashes, shrouds and jumps before she saw the real Robert. Sparks came from off his skin as he continued evading Lighkame’s touch. There were a couple of close calls, though. On one of them, Lithen’s head formed just in front of Lighkame, scaring and distracting him just long enough for Robert to escape. On another, Robert let out a surge of electricity, affecting only Lighkame and not the shadows – or Lithen, who was then in his light form.
Ahteirus’ almost omniscient sight followed Robert on yet another jump, to where she saw him face-to-face. An unnerving glint came over his eyes. Then, as she watched, they turned green – emerald green – along with his tattoo, which also changed shape to that of the Shadow Master’s.
A wry smirk enthroned his face and he—he stopped moving. He didn’t even try to run or jump as the shadows came, before Lighkame. “Robert,” she started. The shadows were now around him. “Move!” But, in one swift motion, they made their way into his body – through his eyes, ears, nose and mouth. It was as if he, surprisingly, welcomed it.
“Ska—Ska—Skadewijem,” echoed the shadows.
If I remember Robert’s notes correctly, he saw and heard everything – unlike the previous times he blacked out. But he couldn’t move. He was an observer. The voice that antagonised him almost all his life grew stronger and louder inside his head. “Come,” it beckoned. “Come, my shadows.”
Lighkame witnessed the shrouding and, in that moment, feared for Robert. He sent out a strong red blast to scatter the shadows, assisted by a similar silverish-white attack from Lithen. But the shadows were too thick. Many vanished at the intensity, but not enough.
Lighkame and Lithen then stopped and, with Ahteirus, saw Robert stand… motionless. The green faded with the last of the shadows, the tattoo reverted and trickles of blood, like tears, ran down his cheeks and neck. Just—like—that. They left him… lifeless and without expression; the same way they left all of their victims.
Ahteirus cried out, “No!” The reservoir holding back her tears had broken. She had broken. She tried touching him—holding him—but she wasn’t really there. Similar images, of the shadows’ victims, flashed before her eyes – of the Mai, a group of people near an oasis and countless others. His name slipped from her tongue one last time and he fell, body to the ground.
“No,” quivered Lighkame’s voice. He went down and placed his hand on Robert’s cheek, changing back to his natural form. “No!”
Every inch of life had been drained from Robert’s body. The energy that Lighkame so desperately wanted, too, was gone. A flash of red covered his body and he vanished.
Lithen also faded and returned as light to Ahteirus’ body.
It happened. Robert was dead. She felt hands tug at her body, but her focus was on Robert. It was as if she was right there with him, standing over him. She remembered the ominous green-eyed figure’s voice telling her that this was why she had come. Though, it didn’t feel right.
She remembered standing in the chamber with me and my words, hoping for there to be another way. But it wasn’t about whether or not the Alversia should die. It was about whether or not she should leave. She remembered and felt played. But, most of all, ashamed.
The hands on her arms and shoulders tugged harder, but they still felt distant. “Ahteirus!” they called – Reuben, Desmond and the officials.
“I am the most likely to remember,” she heard herself say – to me, inside the chamber. Again, as if she was there, reliving the moment. “And I am the one who saw what needs to happen.” I remained quiet, but she could see that I was not happy. “I have to go,” she repeated. The rest of that scene played out, along with a flood of others.
When it ended, she heard Reuben call her name even louder. She was back with him, Desmond and the officials, quite a bit further than they were before her visions took her away.
“He’s dead,” she cried.
“What?!” asked Reuben, bewildered.
The officials seemed taken aback as well. “The red one?” they asked.
Ahteirus scowled through her soaked face. “No,” she said. “Robert. Lighkame is gone.”
“Where did he go?” they asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, almost yelling.
They ran back to the scene with urgency, calling off the air strike along the way.
Desmond noticed that she wasn’t moving. “Stay here with her,” he said to Reuben, torn and conflicted. “I need to see this for myself.”
With Reuben’s hand still on her shoulder, she muttered, “It happened.” Tears continued streaming down her face. It was just the two of them as Lightaia started to rise, with hues of red and yellow peering through the trees. The nighlops stopped beeping and it was only the sound of her voice that followed, “The future didn’t actually change.”
Reuben gulped, struggling to cope himself. “But you said—”
“I know what I said,” she blurted. “I know what I saw. And I don’t understand it myself.” She took a deep breath and moved on, with a softer tone, “I saw something else.”
“What?” he asked.
“I am the Arcane Messenger,” she said, distant and detached, still trying to figure how all the pieces fitted together. “I have seen the future, and I have a message to deliver.”
“He helped you remember,” muttered Reuben. “Didn’t he?”
She nodded. It was clear that she didn’t want it to happen, but it did. “The walls of reality have begun to fall,” she continued, plainly.
“I’m sorry?” questioned Reuben.
“I’ve seen it,” she returned. “I’ve seen the end, and the end is now.”
Reuben’s face drooped. Maybe there was something to his planet’s extinct religion, he thought.
“But it’s happened once before,” she added. “And the GiniFowls stopped it.”
“The what?” asked Reuben.
“The GiniFowls,” she repeated. “They stay in a place – I don’t know where – but it’s a dome… somewhere in this—our reality. It overlooks all our worlds and keeps them separate. But something has happened. And those of us with Alversia, with our Alversia, have something inside of us that can put those walls back together. That’s why I came: to find the Alversia, starting with mine, and to bring them back to my world. But things don’t seem to have gone according to plan.”
They stood there, without saying another word for quite some time. Ahteirus pressed her hand against one of her concealed pockets and felt the ring. The young man in Oliver’s tomb had left it for a reason. That, she knew.
What she didn’t know was why she saw Robert, alive, on top of the Albatross Neuron Facility, with her and Reuben. He was dead. He was gone… but not completely.
In the words of Robert Peters, “…this is only the beginning.”
EPILOGUE
EYRA
I still don’t know what happened to the Mai who lived in secret—the six who vanished before the shadows swept. But they did well in preparing Ahteirus—us for the events they saw transpire.
They called themselves Nacloren, which we believed to be a part of the Alversia phenomenon. They were us, in a lifetime before. I believe the same thing that happened to the Alversia, happened to them. Only, we first needed the items they left behind.
I already had mine – a tribal knife left behind from a place I once called home. And Ahteirus now had Oliver’s – a ring. Reuben would teach her how to use it, but Oliver would be the only one to realise its full power.
Together, with these items and, with our Alversia, we’d be strong enough to manipulate the energies that kept the walls of this—our reality standing. But only at the dome Ahteirus saw – the Origin of All.
The remaining items were scattered from verse to verse, and the next one she would find was hers. She had many, but only one that belonged to her Nacloren – a Viking crown.
It was well protected and rested peacefully in a temple on the planet Vixen in an unnamed verse. The people in that world regarded it as a sacred item, belonging to a goddess they called Eyra.
Interestingly, they too foresaw the coming end of days – as did many religions throughout reality. But the philosophies attached to these predictions proved to be a great challenge to Ahteirus in her adventures, as well as many others.
You see, Vixen was once the most diverse of planets. It homed sentient races that we, now, find only in myths and legends. But under the hands of puritan Templars, they never saw a world greater than what we know as the medieval ages.
Ahteirus walked the streets of Vixen’s most thriving city. She also toured the temple they held so dear – the Temple of Eyra, where she found her crown. Her fingers stroked every wall. That’s where she met the Alpha Mimic, and a number of other Alversia. There weren’t only six.
They knew she was coming and begged for her aid. “She’ll save us,” they said. “It’s written in the prophecy ages.”
The walls of reality continue to fall as Ahteirus finds the remaining Alversia in the next instalment of Fallen Reality. Meet the Myentron and uncover even more secrets in even more verses as you witness The Fall of Eyra.
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