The Nexus Mirror

by Noah Michael

  CHRONICLES OF THE ENLAI

  THE NEXUS MIRROR

  N. E. M I C H A E L

  Asteron Press

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Noah Michael

  All rights reserved.

  First paperback edition April 2019

  Cover design by Ivan Cakic - Cakamura Design

  Author photo by Ciona Sha-ked

  ISBN-13: 9781733642613

  Published by Asteron Press

  950 Lee St.

  Des Plaines, IL 60016

  https://www.nemichael.com/

  CONTENTS

  A New Era

  Alia

  Discovery

  Bella

  The Enlai

  The Silver Tower

  Kidnapped

  Gil

  The Chief of Shadows

  Floor 176

  Hunted

  Trial

  Training

  The Queen's Lair

  Contest of Kings

  Memories

  Betrayal

  Eulogy

  Illusion

  Heart of Stone

  Into the Mirror

  The Brink of War

  The Mind of the Mirror

  The Warrior Within

  Atonement

  Sacrifice

  The Last Surger

  The Return

  Honor to the Fallen

  Contemplation

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  To my inspiring English teachers. Mrs. Pikelny, Mrs. Kaplan, Mrs. Arons, and the others. You taught me to write, and more importantly, to dream.

  I would like to thank my beautiful wife Tehila, my loving parents and grandparents, and my supportive siblings and friends, particularly Ari Weiss, for their help and support. I could never have done it without you guys.

  Chapter One

  A New Era

  Chicago

  July 3, 2094

  6:00 a.m.

  With one final, slight stroke of the pencil, the woman came to life. She spoke to him, showed him her name and her story, her loves and her sorrows.

  “Alia,” Raiden muttered under his breath, staring at the picture in front of him. A brown-haired woman stood in the center of the sketch. She was beautiful, with sharp, defined cheekbones and large, piercing eyes, but she dressed simply in dark, blue jeans and a T-shirt. Her pretty face was fraught with concern. She held her hands out in front of her, as if shielding herself from an attack.

  “Who are you fighting, Alia?” Raiden murmured to himself, examining the sketch. The woman stood in the center of a wide, dim room, filled with various electrical equipment and two tall, stone statues of men. The statues had an eerie, realistic look to them, as if they had been frozen alive. An older, grey-haired man stood at the front of the room, wearing a shiny suit and resting on a stylish cane. He stared at Alia with a calculating sneer. However, she didn’t seem to care. She was looking towards the back of the room where a dark, menacing shadow hid quietly in the corner. The old man didn’t notice, but Alia certainly sensed it, and she knew it was coming.

  “Raiden, it’s six a.m.” a woman’s voice grumbled from the bed behind him.

  “Good morning Abigail,” Raiden said with a smile, peering over his shoulder from his stool. She sat up on the bed, wrapped in white sheets.

  “Another one of those dreams?” she asked.

  “This one felt important,” Raiden answered. “I had to sketch it before I forgot.”

  “You know, forgetting isn’t as bad as you think,” Abigail said, flopping back down onto the bed. “Got me through some pretty crappy parts of my childhood. You should try it sometime.”

  Raiden chuckled and carefully tore the paper from his sketchpad. He walked over to a table in the corner of his small, messy, studio apartment, trying not to step on any of the papers which littered the floor. He looked over the different stacks of sketches and completed comic books which lined the table, each filled with vivid depictions of powerful superheroes and grand battles, but placed the current one in its own, new pile.

  A new character, Raiden thought. I haven’t had one of those in a while.

  “You know, if you actually tried to sell those, maybe you could quit your job at the school,” Abigail said.

  “I like my job at the school,” Raiden answered frankly.

  Abigail shrugged. “I think I’m gonna head to work,” she said, climbing out of bed.

  “This early?” Raiden raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  “If I’m already up, might as well beat the morning traffic, and I want to quickly run by my apartment,” Abigail replied, tying her dark hair into a ponytail. She stepped into a pink, knee-length dress.

  “You mind?” She asked, motioning towards the zipper.

  “Wanna join me, maybe have an early coffee in the teacher’s lounge before the school play?” Abigail asked as Raiden zipped her up.

  “Nah,” Raiden replied. “I want to get working on the next comic, and maybe figure out who this new character is. I think I remember seeing something similar in one of my older books.”

  “Suit yourself,” Abigail said, bending down to put on her shoes. “But you owe me a date. And a drink.” She looked up at him with a teasing smirk.

  “Get out ‘a here,” Raiden laughed. “We’ll see.”

  Abigail walked over to the door and turned around.

  “This was fun,” she smiled, shooting Raiden one last wink. “We should do it again sometime.” Raiden chuckled as the door shut, then walked over to his collection of sketches. He stared down at his newest addition, looking into the woman’s eyes.

  “Roko screw you over too?” He asked her angrily under his breath. “Well trust me, if I had powers like the rest of you, I’d mess him over real bad.”

  Raiden looked again at the shadow in the corner of the drawing, and suddenly, something lit up in the back of his memory.

  I’ve seen that before! He thought excitedly. He brushed a finger over the various piles until he reached the very first comic book. It was the first one he’d ever written, the first time he’d dreamed one of his ‘visions’. Attached to the comic book was an old newspaper clipping. His heart dropped as he read the title.

  “Discover Inc. Janitor dies in work-accident. Leaves behind wife and seven-year-old son.”

  He looked down at the tear-stained face of the boy on the clipping and let out a deep sigh. He opened the comic book. Memories rushed through his head as he flipped through the pages of the darkest day of his life…

  “Hey Raiden, would you mind passing me the broom?”

  Raiden pulled the broom out from the cleaning rack and handed it to his father.

  “Attaboy,” his dad said, ruffling Raiden’s hair, a warm smile on his face. “Believe me Raiden, this job’s gonna work out. We’re gonna live good now. Everyone wants to work for Discover. And they chose me. God’s watchin’ over us, son. I know he’s watchin’.”

  Raiden peered at a clock against the wall. They’d been working for over an hour already, and it was getting close to midnight.

  “Daddy, can I explore?”

  “Alright Raiden, but don’t wander too far. I’m almost done and then we’ll head home.”

  Raiden nodded and walked off down the dark, empty hallway, hands in his pockets, trying to whistle. After finally managing a soft note, he smiled proudly. Satisfied with himself, he looked for a new challenge. He attempted to read the titles on each of the office doors.

  “Dr. Gendr
-ri-ach, Bio-medical enginee-ring,” he sounded out slowly. He continued past another dozen doors, when he realized he’d wandered too far. He heard his father call his name, and just as he was about to turn around, he heard a voice.

  “No one knows you’re here. You are at my mercy.”

  Raiden followed the voice up to a door. He placed his head against it, listening in.

  “Even if you kill me, you will never find my research.”

  “Mr. Bogson, I must say, as the world’s leading researcher on alternative energy, you are quite naïve. Did you truly believe you could hide the information right under my nose and I wouldn’t notice?”

  “The idea is mine! I won’t sell it.”

  “Good, that saves me a few bucks. Kill him.”

  Raiden trembled with fear as he turned to run. An explosion sounded from inside the room, startling Raiden, causing him to trip. He fell against the door; his shoulder opened the handle as he collapsed onto the floor.

  “Well, what do we have here…”

  Raiden scrambled to his feet, his heart racing. Standing in front of him was a grey-haired man in a shiny, silvery suit. Beside the man stood two armed men with flaming, red hair. Heat simmered from their hands like freshly cooked coals. On the floor lay the body of a man, his skin burnt to crisp.

  “What is your name, boy?” the old man asked.

  “Raiden?” Raiden’s dad ran into the room, gasping for air.

  “There you are! Raiden, you had me worried, I thought-”

  His father’s face filled with dread as he realized what was happening.

  The old man glared into his eyes.

  “Well, if it isn’t the janitor. What perfect timing. What a mess we have here. Gary, escort this child back to his home. Tell his mother that her husband had to work a later shift than usual.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  One of the men moved towards Raiden and took his hand.

  “Wait,” Raiden’s father said, his voice shaking, “Let me say goodnight to my boy.”

  He leaned down towards Raiden and put his arms around him, tears in his eyes.

  “I’m scared, Daddy,” Raiden shook. “I think those men want to hurt us.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Raiden,” his dad answered, smiling. “Everything’s gonna be alright. You’re gonna be somethin’ big one day. Always remember, no matter what people say, you have the power to do whatever it is you wanna do. You don’t need’a be anyone else but yourself because you, Raiden, you’ve got it all right in here.”

  His dad placed his hand against Raiden’s heart.

  “I love you.”

  “Daddy, don’t-”

  He kissed Raiden one last time and stood up.

  Raiden tugged and screamed as the man dragged him out of the room and to the building’s exit. Once outside, the man turned to face him.

  “I’m sorry, kid, but I can’t actually let you go.”

  Raiden’s eyes widened in horror as the man’s hands lit up in flames.

  “Stop!”

  The man froze suddenly, against his will. “I hate Readers,” he snarled.

  He turned to face a young man of about twenty, whose face was hidden behind a hooded cloak.

  “Let the boy go, Burner.”

  The hooded man drew two long blades. The Burner grunted. His arms heated up, glowing bright red. Suddenly, he swung his arms forward. Flames erupted from his palms like a volcano, but the hooded man was too quick. Diving around the flames, he jumped, flipped over a ball of fire, and plunged one of his swords into the Burner’s shoulder. As the Burner fell to his knees, his cry was cut short by the hooded man’s second blade. Raiden’s stomach churned at the sight as the man turned his attention towards Raiden.

  “To which tribe do you belong?” His voice had a hypnotic tone, lulling Raiden to answer truthfully.

  “T-tribe?” Raiden stuttered. “Where is my daddy?”

  “Are you even an Enlai?” he asked.

  “A what?”

  The man’s expression fell. He looked up angrily to the sky. “You said I would find it here!” he shouted. “Is this some kind of game to you? Are you amused?” The man turned back towards Raiden.

  “Who are you? What’s happening?” Raiden’s voice drifted as he tried to process the situation.

  “I am sorry, human. There has been a mistake.” And with that, the man walked away, leaving Raiden alone in the darkness.

  As Raiden reached the end of the comic, a tear fell from his cheek onto the page. He remembered giving his report to the police. He remembered how they laughed in his face when he described the super-powered men. He remembered the bouquet of flowers Jimmy Roko, the CEO of Discover, had delivered personally to their door. He remembered burning them.

  Raiden felt his phone buzz in his pocket, reminding him it was time to go to work. He quickly glanced over the comic book one last time, searching carefully for the shadow, but he couldn’t find it anywhere.

  I could’ve sworn I saw it somewhere, he thought curiously, but he’d run out of time. He dropped the comic book back in its place and headed out the door to his car. As the book hit the desk, the newspaper clipping fell out of place and floated slowly to the floor. The child on the cover stared up at the ceiling of the quiet apartment, scared and alone. But lurking behind him, in the dimmest corner of the photo, was a dark and ominous shadow.

  Chapter Two

  Alia

  London, England

  July 3, 2094

  7:30 a.m.

  “What you see is what you seek.”

  Alia contemplated the quote as she examined the bloody hand print which colored its frame, hoping it could tell her more about the killer. Thomas Hunter, a political writer and critic, died two nights before. The family, deeply skeptical of the official ruling of suicide rendered by the police report, had hired Alia as a private detective. She was only twenty, but already she’d earned herself a name around the city.

  Alia walked from room to room taking in every detail, from the artwork on the walls to the lavender, oriental rugs on the floor. Following close behind her was Mr. Benjamin Knolls, the witness who had called the police. Mr. Knolls had a strong British accent and wore a black suit with a red tie and an awkward, artificial smile.

  Alia scratched her head. Her long, brown hair swayed as she looked around at the walls. The artwork was antique, and the dark brown walls were filled with quotes from philosophers and writers. A picture of Thomas Hunter formed in her head.

  The colors Hunter had chosen – chocolate brown, gold, and rose red – and the way they interacted with the slightly dimmed lights told her the man had a calm temperament and had not been overly stressed. He was a self-made man with a stubbornness that spurred him to voice even the most controversial of opinions.

  Alia had looked over the room twice, but conclusions eluded her. What was she missing? Alia walked over to a mirror in the corner of the room and gazed into it.

  Suddenly she knew.

  She was staring at the reflection of Mr. Knolls, projected like a picture from her memory. She focused, and her mind traced a flawless diagram of Knolls's face, recording even the slightest of oddities.

  Lips pressed together, cheek muscles tense, nostrils flared, eyebrows slightly heightened, forced smile, eyes averted up and to the left...

  That was all she needed.

  Alia walked over to the wall sporting a bloodied handprint, where Hunter had leaned after allegedly stabbing himself. A trail of dark red led from the handprint to the very large bloodstain on the floor where he died.

  “So, if I remember correctly,” Alia asked Mr. Knolls, “You saw Mr. Hunter stab himself through the window, and then you ran inside to help?”

  “That is correct,” Mr. Knolls replied. “When I walked in, he was leaning against the wall, and when he fell to the floor, I called the police.”

  Alia turned to face Mr. Knolls. She hated liars.

  “Cut the crap, Mr. Knolls.”

  �
��Excuse me?” Knolls stuttered, surprised.

  “Thomas Hunter was seven feet tall,” Alia stared into Mr. Knolls's eyes. “This handprint is four feet high.”

  Knolls's eyes met the intensity of Alia’s glare.

  “It’s funny, though. You seem to be around five and a half feet tall...”

  Knolls's smile vanished. Alia’s eyes scanned his body, trying to anticipate his next move.

  Right arm pressed against thigh, slight movement of right index finger. Body leaning towards the right.

  She looked into his eyes.

  Hatred, fear, confidence...

  It was the last emotion that bothered Alia. Confidence. He hadn’t run. He has a way to kill me. From the twitch of his index finger, it’s likely a gun, probably in his belt to the right, judging the way he’s leaning.

  Alia threw a spinning kick to Knolls’ head, throwing him off balance. As he reached for his weapon, Alia pounced forward, tackling him and grabbing the gun from his waistband before he recovered. She secured his arms with a pair of handcuffs.

  “Who are you? And why did you kill Hunter?”

  Knolls turned his head to face her with a sinister, wild grin. He laughed maniacally.

  “I am merely a small rodent in this vast forest ruled by creatures of the night. I should have known you were one of them. You will be caught. If not by a wolf, then by a bear. If not by a bear, then by the lion himself!”

  The man began to laugh again. Alia shut him up with a knock to the head with the gun, rendering him unconscious. “Freak,” she muttered.

  ◆◆◆

  After reporting to the police and closing the case, Alia went to the nearest coffee shop puzzling over what she’d just witnessed. The man may have been crazy, but he hadn’t been lying. Either the man had fully convinced himself that he was part of a mass conspiracy of forest animals, or someone bigger was involved in this murder.

  “I need a break,” Alia muttered to herself as she sipped her coffee, her mind wandering. “For once in my life, I need a bloody break.”