The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  The three traveled for some time along the crippled roads of Southern. The steam car jostled over the uneven terrain, its absence of shock absorbers making every bump all the more noticeable. Pleasantries exchanged between them. As pleasant as strangers could converse.

  The closer they got to the Northwestern border, the more things seemed to deteriorate. Avigail looked out at the wreckage of the city that laid beyond her window. Some of it still smoldered from an apparent fire that died not long ago. She frowned at the sight of it. And the smell ... there were certainly casualties. The scent in the air left little doubt.

  “You aren’t scared?” Avigail asked as they drove passed a confused-looking mother, clutching a bundled object in her arms. She guessed it was an infant. Things appeared grimmer the farther they crept toward Northwestern. It gave credit to some of the rumors she heard the other patrons whispering about. She wondered if some of the disordered people she spied outside her window had fled from the very place they tried to enter.

  “Not to enter Northwestern, no,” Thom stated.

  “Only that we’ll find there’s a solid reason our son hasn’t responded to our letters,” Everly added.

  Avigail did not know their son, nor their daughter-in-law, but she had good intuition. In this case, she wished she didn’t. In the short time since she met them, the woman knew these people lived on hope, but she suspected a valid cause existed that their son did not answer their mail. Based on the circumstances of things outside her window, Avigail speculated they weren’t going to find a comforting end to their travels. She kept her fingers crossed that her journey would have a different ending. “I’d be terrified,” she admitted, pushing some hair out of her eyes.

  “Yes, well,” Everly smiled as she leaned back in her seat, “things seemed pretty grim last year too. We were among the many people living in the slums of a town called Avadon. A large part of Southern’s nearby working poor had flocked there after the disasters wiped our houses from the face of the land. The late Darjal Wessex showed no signs of repairing residential properties, funneling all his money into the restoration of damaged churches and that gods-forsaken iron ship.” She shook her head at the memory. “We had all but given up hope when Nicholai Addihein and his companions came to our aid. They are the true gods among men. Knowing people like them are out there ... well, it gives us something positive to hold on to.”

  Avigail perked at the mention of Nicholai and the others. She’d heard brief mentions of the story they referenced, but never from someone who had actually dwelled in the Southern division while they swept through. “You met them?” she asked, leaning forward again in her seat. “What was it like?”

  “It was ... reassuring.” Thom guided the steam car around a corner with a slow crank of the wheel. “All seemed lost there, for a while. Living under tarps, covered in the smell of the dead and the dying. It was abysmal.” He shook his head at the memory. “Those people ... they brought hope to that place.”

  “Do you remember the dog?” Everly asked with a laugh. “Oh, that creature was wild! The children threw rubbish for him to chase after all day and he never seemed to tire.”

  “And Umbriel,” Thom added with a fond smile, “I don’t know that I ever saw her without an aura of genuine affection around her. She gave her heart to everyone there, regardless of their status or state.”

  “Yes.” Everly sighed at the reminiscence, a tender smile on her face as well. “Her warmth was almost inhuman. I’ve never seen another person love so much.”

  Avigail sat back in her seat, her eyes falling to the floor. She knew of what they spoke. Though her feelings for Umbriel were tainted by perceived interpretations of the Earth Mother harboring feelings for Nicholai, she truly reflected the heart of a saint. Despite Avigail’s attempts to discredit her, Umbriel remained, undoubtedly, one of the kindest people she ever knew. “She sounds lovely,” she uttered, not caring to dive into the short history she shared with the Earth Mother.

  “And Bartholomew Gray,” Everly beamed at his name, “I still fawn at the idea that I was this close to a future Time Father,” she said, holding her thumb and index finger an inch apart from one another. “He is truly a wise and wonderful man.”

  “They all were,” Thom agreed, nodding to further cement his approval.

  Avigail could not let the opportunity pass her by. These people lived in the company of her father. Apprehension took hold of her before she spoke; she did not want to learn anything she might regret later. Her fingers dug into the cloth around her knees, but she cleared her throat and dared herself to ask. “What about Revi Houton? What was he like?”

  “Mr. Houton?” Everly blinked, trying to beckon the memory forth. “Yes, I remember him. A quiet man. Very hard working. He did much of the work restructuring the slums, removing dangerous debris, clearing out the bodies and all that.”

  “Yeah,” Thom joined his wife in her recollection, jostling a bit as the steam car ran over a jagged hole in the road, “it didn’t take an observant person to look at that man though and know he had some demons in him.”

  “Even still,” Everly interjected, coming to the rescue of Revi’s honor, “most of us have demons. It’s how we live with them that makes us who we are. And Revi Houton, if I’m not mistaken, was an honorable man.”

  “Through and through,” Thom agreed. “Particularly good with the children, if I recall.”

  Everly smiled. “Now that you mention it, yes. He was. I don’t know that I ever saw him smile, but when he was with those kids ... he looked every bit the contented type. You would have liked him, dear.”

  Avigail swallowed and once again fell back into the cushion of her seat. Her arms laid in her lap as she lived in the tales the two told. “Yes,” she finally said, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I think I would have.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  Clocks surrounded him. Large, towering things. The faces read 1:02. Though their presence would have seemed surreal in any other occasion, Nicholai did not find it strange. Complex mechanisms such as these brought him an abnormal sense of comfort. He adjusted his vest as he strode through the endless valley of enormous cogs and gears, a peacefulness surrounding him.

  He felt at ease. Each part of every machine had a purpose, and each action had a predictable reaction. Everything made sense here.

  Nicholai climbed a towering set of stairs that wrapped around an impossibly tall grandfather clock. Where they led, he wasn’t sure, but ascending them felt right. Almost as if a reward of sorts awaited him at the top. He didn’t know how he knew. He just did.

  Though climbing each step took the form of a physical effort, Nicholai experienced incredible relaxation through his entire body. He didn’t remember feeling stressed before, but if he had, it would not have lived inside him long. Not here. Worries melted away in seconds in this perfect place.

  Only several steps to go. He followed after his intuition until he found himself at the top of the stairs. The soles of his boots rested on large sheet of transparent glass. He saw every cog and component below him that made up the giant clock on which he stood. But that wasn’t what captured his attention.

  Nicholai’s head tilted to the side when he spied an elegant figure across the clear floor. Her back was to him, but even with her facing away from him, he knew her form well. He memorized it for years.

  “Lilac.”

  The woman spun, her red hair bouncing around her jawline as she offered him a smile. “Hello, Nicholai.”

  Her eyes were the feature that ignited him most. Nicholai took several steps toward her until she was near enough for him to wrap his arms around her waist. A curious feeling crept over him. The environment where he stood, which by all accounts reflected a perpetual dreamlike atmosphere, felt entirely normal. Lilac’s presence, however, struck him as uncharacteristically odd. He delighted in seeing her, as he always did. Her proximity lit his heart on fire. But for whatever
reason, holding her body tight against his felt ... impossible. It made him want to grip her forever.

  “I’ve missed you,” she said, leaning her forehead against his.

  Nicholai chuckled, closing his eyes to further soak in the warmth of her existence. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Lilac laughed, giving him a gentle squeeze as she nestled further into him. “And you won’t, will you?”

  A permanent grin found its way to his face. She had that effect on him. “I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be.”

  “Good,” she whispered, smirking as she shifted to rest the side of her cheek against his. “Very good.”

  The heat of her skin on his awakened him. Nicholai pulled a deep breath into his lungs, content simply to hold her. His eyes opened, staring off into the horizon behind her. He blinked once, twice, challenging his eyes to adjust as he attempted to focus on the clocks in the background.

  The faces. They all read 11:44. His eyes narrowed. He could’ve sworn it had just been minutes after 1:00. How over ten hours passed in what felt like such a short period baffled him. But as Lilac burrowed herself into his chest, he felt the desire to make sense of it fade.

  “Come with me.” Lilac smiled as she pulled out of the embrace and held his hands in hers. “I want to show you something.”

  “Of course.” Nicholai returned her show of affection, hopelessly belonging to the woman who stole his heart. He squeezed her hand once, then gently pulled out of her grasp to extend his arm. “Lead the way, m’lady.”

  A charismatic giggle escaped her as she pulled him along, but they did not get far.

  From the sky, a woman descended. Soft, gray wings flapped behind her as she lowered herself to the glass; the tips of her toes bending when they met the smooth surface, until the whole of her feet laid flat. The creamy pallor of her flowing dress contrasted wonderfully with her delicious cocoa skin. She smiled. Her eyes, though sunken into her seemingly malnourished face, were orbs of compassion.

  Nicholai parted his mouth to speak, to ask who she was, but before he uttered a word, the supernatural woman extended a shaky, bony hand and gently swept it through Lilac’s body.

  The tangible firmness of Nicholai’s lover gave way under the motion as Lilac turned into nothing more than smoke, swirling around the stranger’s forearm as she continued to brush her away.

  He felt her fingers in his. And then she was gone. Nicholai took a step back, his eyes darting wildly as a gust of wind carried what was left of Lilac Finn away. “Wh-what did you ...?” He forced his attention to the mysterious being before him, lost in a combination of confusion and shock.

  “She wasn’t real, Nicholai.” The winged woman’s voice echoed around him, reverberating up through his ankles and into his bones. Though the words felt like a touchable force compared to others, they were filled with gentleness and a strange weakness. “I’m sorry.”

  “Who are you?” Nicholai’s brows furrowed as he took a step back. He still did not know what was happening and found himself unable to initiate a suitable response. Was Lilac dead? Did this woman kill her? Was she ever really alive at all? Countless questions floated through his brain at a rapid pace, but he only managed to get a few out. “How do you know my name? Where’s Lilac?”

  “She is dead, Nicholai.” The woman seemed disheartened by the obvious pain in his eyes. “It is a hard truth to accept, but it is a universal one. The dead ... they do not return.”

  “She’s not ...” He started to disagree, to challenge this brazen woman’s statement, but his words fell short, as did his breath. “She’s ... not ...”

  She couldn’t be. Lilac Finn was never dead. But he couldn’t form those words. It was almost as if his tongue knew they were false. Nicholai drew in a deep breath, and he reached up to grab his hair as if pulling on the strands would somehow wake him from this terrible dream.

  The woman reached over to place a hand on his cheek. Her skin was cold, but the touch steadied him instantly. Steadied his pulse. His anxiety. He remembered, then.

  Yes. Lilac Finn was dead. He recalled the exact moment when the bullet pierced her skull. The exact moment when her body hit the floor and Rodgie bemoaned his crimes. He remembered everything.

  “Are you the Unnamed?” Nicholai asked, unable to tear his gaze away from hers.

  “No, child.” She smiled, brushing her thumb over his cheek with platonic affection. “I’m afraid you didn’t reach the Unnamed. Do not fret. It is very difficult to do.”

  He was unsuccessful. Nicholai winced at the realization. The Southeastern Time Father did not enjoy writhing in self-pity, but it was getting harder not to feel the pressures of failure after repeated failure. His jaw tightened as he tensed under the weight of her touch. Nicholai thought he would find her bold contact uncomfortable, but the energy that originated from her dismissed any apprehensions. “Who are you?” he asked again.

  “Someone who loves you.” She lowered her hand and tucked it behind her back. “Someone who is here to help you return home.”

  It was then Nicholai realized innumerable eyes were surrounding them. What was once a land of non-threatening, albeit oversized clocks and open space became a claustrophobic environment of yellow, glowing orbs. The eyes did not have faces. Instead, they floated in the endless expanse. They did not appear friendly.

  The woman followed Nicholai’s gaze to the sea of eyes surrounding them. She frowned. “They know I’ve assisted you. It’s time to go. This is no place for a human.”

  “No, wait,” Nicholai ripped his focus from the looming threat and found her face again. “I have questions—”

  “I am sorry, child.” Her voice was soft, coated in a sadness. “They are not for me to answer.”

  Additional features started joining the eyes. Flaring nostrils took shape. Mouths, some with jagged rows of teeth, others without and somehow still appeared menacing. Skulls, muscles, and sockets formed around the eyes until each had an entire head to belong to. The creatures, some humanoid, others a combination of mythological beasts pieced together by imagination, advanced toward the pair. They defied gravity with each step, walking on nothing.

  Nicholai frowned, holding his ground. “If they’re not for you to answer, then who do I ask?”

  The woman drew her skeletal shoulders back as she adopted a defensive stance. “You are better off not knowing, love.”

  “I’m getting really tired of people making these decisions for me,” Nicholai muttered, clenching his hands into fists. “Please—you said they know you helped me—even if I can’t ask who you are, can you help with the lesser gods destroying Panagea?”

  She paused. Empathy swarmed her, dominating her entire being. The creatures drew closer. She parted her lips to speak, but a distorted voice from the crowd halted her speech.

  “Epifet!”

  She looked up. Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry—” She held up an arm to defend herself, and reached out to seize Nicholai’s shoulder with the other.

  One of the monstrous creatures leaped forward. The Time Father vividly remembered the weight of the panic behind her fingers as she dug them into his skin and shoved him away.

  Then he woke.

  In bed, with Umbriel, Brack, Granite, his dog, and Jernal in chairs at his side, Nicholai sat up from the mattress, covered in sweat. His hands flew to his chest to inspect for his Chronometer. Tensed shoulders eased at the familiar touch of the metal. He held it in his palm for a moment, to reassure himself it was still there before he slid a hand through his hair and tried to catch his breath.

  “Nicholai—” Umbriel sat upright in her chair and leaned forward, reaching a hand out to rest it near him. “You’re awake.”

  “Just in time too,” Jernal murmured, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair.

  “Too right, that,” Brack laughed, giving the footboard of the bed a soft kick with his boot. “Damn near terrified the piss out of me, mate. We were a good three hour
s away from being feckin’ frozen in Southeastern if you couldn’t wake your ass up.”

  Nicholai blinked and looked down at his Chronometer. It was true. He had been unconscious for over twenty hours. The man shook his head and tried to make sense of things, though he knew that effort was in vain. It felt as though he had only lingered in the other realm for mere minutes. “I’m sorry ...” He rubbed at his face before resting his hands in his lap. “Truly. I never meant to put you all in that position.”

  Umbriel’s lips pursed together. Despite her attempt to conceal her anger, it remained visible on her face. “Then you shouldn’t have.”

  Her words cut him. Nicholai never witnessed Umbriel in a state of irritation before. Though a tempered lividness hid in her stare, he still found relief at the sight of her well-being. “I’m ... glad you are okay,” he admitted, turning to Brack shortly after. “You as well, Brack. The others,” he started, looking back and forth between those who gathered around his bedside, “Kazuaki, Bermuda, Penn ... are they all right?”

  Umbriel sat back in her chair, still unable to disguise her crossness. “Everyone is fine.”

  Granite’s dog placed its front paws on the bed, its tail wagging. It made several little efforts to jump onto the mattress but was ultimately unsuccessful. Granite reached over and picked the aging dog up to set it on the bed.

  “Did ... did you make it?” Nicholai arched a brow, reaching over to pet the beast as it thrust its muzzle into his palms. “To the Unnamed?”

  Brack shrugged. “Yeah, mate. Umbriel and I found It. But the Unnamed is a no go.”

  Nicholai’s shoulders fell. The dog licked his hand. “I see ...”

  “You discredited my warning.” Umbriel stared at Nicholai, the weight of her gaze unsettling.

  He knew she was upset. It did not take a scholar to fit the pieces of that puzzle together. “I thought I could make it,” Nicholai confessed, leaning back into the pillow behind him. “I wanted to help, Umbriel. I need to do something other than sign documents that disperse financial aid to those who wouldn’t need aid to begin with if I hadn’t damned Southeastern last year. And I certainly do not wish to send my comrades into dangerous situations just to clean up errors that are my own doing.”