by Fox Lancet
“How have you come to be out here?” Rapsnel scowled, surveying the vast stretch of plains.
“It appears that there is another gate, not too far off the ledge of Dulca Canyons.”
Rapsnel’s scowl deepened, the creases cutting deep, jagged lines in his face. “Well, that is not necessarily a positive development.”
“It can be considered either beneficial or not.” To garner his attention, Syler finally turned his head completely in Hunter’s direction. Hunter noticed him out of his peripheral vision and sneered back before straightening and turning toward Rapsnel, though Syler knew his cohort’s eyes would remain fixed on the females. “What brought you in this direction?”
“A group of us on Strace Peak witnessed a bright light flashing from the canyons. We were on our way to investigate it when we saw you both not too far from its origin. Did something happen when you crossed at the new gate?”
“It must have been the keys’ transformations.”
“Ah, so you were successful in locating the key? Where is it now and did you contact the Lord?”
“We had both keys in fact, and yes, we crossed with Lord Nefarion. He is with our key now discussing…details.” Syler hesitated, not sure what they were discussing alone.
“Two keys? Interesting.” Rapsnel scratched his chin while glaring at the ground.
“I wish not to repeat all this information, so before I divulge further, let us return to Strace Peak so I may begin to update the legions.”
“Of course, Commander Syler. All but two Legions await word on the crossing.”
“Which legions have yet to arrive?”
“The Fourth and The Seventh. It should not be long.”
Syler nodded, released his rigid pose, and approached Sheeka, Elite Captain of The Sixth. “A ride, Sheeka?” He lifted a claw, palm up. One corner of her mouth turned up in a very slight smirk and she moved behind him, wrapped her arms around his brawny chest and carried him away.
* *
*
Vivienne and the Seraphs
Vivienne landed lightly onto a plain of soft sand. As foreign as it looked, it was somehow just as familiar to her subconscious. She knew she had never seen or been to the place she was now, but she knew she belonged here, was needed here. Even the wings on her back came naturally, though they had just appeared on her arrival. She stretched them, glancing over her shoulder at the translucent canvases, purple veins creating jagged webs through them.
As confused as she was in her forethoughts, the rest of her relaxed and reveled in the sight of her wings and the surrounding landscape.
She licked her lips and looked forward at the beautiful white structures ahead of her. From this distance they looked small, but she could tell they would be legendary, incredible in size, white marble or perhaps granite with blue and gold tipped carvings. Then again, this was a whole other world; it may not have the same minerals as Earth had.
Instead of picking herself up with her wings to carry her the rest of the way, she remained afoot, wanting to adjust more to her surroundings and feelings before conversing with the beings who would greet her; the beings with which she belonged.
The towers were enclosed by soaring walls created by a dulled white rock. Cracks seemed aberrant, attesting to the barrier’s solidity. Beyond were the graceful, glittering towers, like something out of a fairy tale, except a little more realistic in their worn appearance and sensible arrangement. Vivienne fought the impulse to engage her wings, deciding a pacified entry would be a wise approach to keep from agitating the inhabitants.
She could see movement long before she neared the gate. Otherwise, it was rather quiet. Once the entrance was within shouting distance, she stopped, stretching her hands out in what she assumed was a universal sign of nonviolence.
Patience had been a regular practice for Vivienne growing up on Earth, so the following moments of prolonged silence and stillness did not perturb her. She waited with more hope than she ever thought possible. If whoever resided behind the gate deemed her as a threat or as an unacceptable stranger, she was sure they would kill her without question.
This was a world dwindled by war. Hesitation meant death and trust was fleeting. Again, her forethoughts stirred in confusion, wondering how she was aware of this, but she knew wholeheartedly that her strange knowledge was accurate. Something had resided within her throughout her human life, something dormant. Now it was wide awake and taking point.
Almost without command, her wings folded neatly against her back and she clasped her hands gently together in front of her. Still no one came. She wondered what she looked like now. Glancing down, she saw her usual form: two legs, two arms, ten fingers, ten toes. Her skin was whiter, her form a bit more slender, skin more taught. She was naked too, but her body did not have the same erogenous detail as her Earthly form. Her hair was still a very pale blond that now had an enthralling luster and it swayed down to her hips. Just as she began running her spindly, nail-less fingers through it--noting that her fingers came to inexplicably sharp points--she heard a distant clicking sound. It came from the direction of the wall. Vivienne stopped and glanced up from the perusal of herself.
A seam appeared at the bottom of the wall, below what she supposed was one of the watch towers. It grew into an archway before completing into the obvious shape of a door. Four lank humanoids slid from its opening more gracefully than she had ever seen any creature move. Seraphs. The thought came suddenly and her heart swelled with joy.
The door snapped shut, the seam fading from sight and the four Seraphs stood still, observing her. Their eyes were large and housed eerie blue irises that did not appear to have pupils. All of their lips and noses were quite petite. It made Vivienne wish she could see her face, wondering if her facial features were similar to theirs now.
She was not sure if she should breach the silence first or if she should continue to wait for them to initiate communication. The consideration made her wonder if they would be able to understand each other. Vivienne had not uttered a word since she entered this world and was curious if her voice had changed. Before she could satisfy the curiosity, one of the Seraphs began moving forward cautiously.
One after the other, the rest followed in a staggered formation. The first one had short pale hair, its length brushing his severely angled jaw. Two of them had shoulder length hair that was a white-tinted brown. The fourth was also blond, but the color was richer than the leader’s.
“Who are you?”
Vivienne immediately understood him, but was slightly stunned because he spoke in a language she did not recognize.
“I am Vivienne,” she replied without hesitation, intrigued that it was in the same foreign tongue.
“Where have you come from?” He stopped quite a distance from her.
“I am not here to harm you. I am the key to the otherworld gate; to Earth.” The human part of her had fallen into the background, watching raptly and without control. “The Demon Lord and his Elite brought me here, unaware how the other key and I would transform through the portal. I escaped and now I am here to aid you, the Seraphs.”
The front Seraph kept his eyes on her, calculating. Behind him, the other three exchanged cool looks.
“What kind of subterfuge is this?”
Vivienne shot him a look of irritation, her attention shifting when another spoke.
“She is the wicked Aisleen, is she not?” one of the brown-haired Seraphs asked.
“No, Aisleen is a deep azure. Lenees pale and faded azure. This one, she is violet,” the leader ascertained, studying her suspiciously. They attributed winged Seraph females by their color, it would seem. “And her hair is of royal shade. Did you rise recently?”
“I did not rise, Seraph. I came through the otherworld gate. Did you not comprehend me? The Demons brought me here, thinking they could gain absolute control over the gates. They are no longer at the advantage now that they have lost me. I am here to aid the Seraphs. Please do not make me
repeat myself. We should not squander time. The Demons will move quickly. There is another gate and we should claim it before they move forces upon it and dominate both.” She felt her wings twitch and stretch behind her agitatedly.
“We cannot trust you, Healer.” He looked almost regretful as he spoke the words, but the expression dissipated almost instantly.
“Move closer to me, Seraph.” Vivienne still chose not to make any movements, allowing them to move at their own comfortable pace. The leader’s focus never deviated, retaining his full attention on her while his followers continued to exchange thoughtful glances. He took a long meditative pause. When he finally deigned to progress further, his steps were of pure stealth. The gait was completely natural and it made no sound. This was a warrior Seraph, one who had engaged in battle many times over and no longer knew any other way.
Vivienne frowned at her musing. She let her gaze wander away in faux disinterest, hoping to put him more at ease. When he gasped and took a jolting step back, she leveled her gaze back on him and smiled.
“Do you understand now?” she asked as the Seraph finally lost his stoicism and glanced at his brothers in earnest. They watched him expectantly, waiting for him to explain his upheaval.
He regained his bearings quickly and spoke, “She is vastly powerful and full of light. By no means is she of wicked ascendancy.”
Blood splattered and dejected, Kaleb, Jacob, and—with one arm gone—Elijah all sat on the roof of a ten-story office building. Pink and orange washed away the blue of the sky. The bright sun was smeared by stretching clouds as it fell, dropping slowly to the confines of the serrated mountains. They had sat silent for an hour, watching the day draw to a close. Kaleb broke the long silence with a heavy sigh.
“This will never end.” He put his face in his hands and rubbed his cheeks in frustration.
“Do not despair, Prince. There will be an end for Nefarion. We have merely entered into a new war with him. One where we have a chance to replenish our forces,” Jacob replied, settling a strong hand on Kaleb’s shoulder.
“Yes, I just wish we could have kept the vile beast on Trissana and saved these poor creatures from his tyranny.”
“Of course you did, but we cannot dwell on what is lost, and now we have a new chance to destroy him and his wretched followers.” He squeezed Kaleb’s shoulder tightly.
“Perhaps. I will attempt to be less hopeless.” Kaleb replied.
* *
*
Whiskey
Sandra held her bloated belly, hiking the strap of her heavy bag further up on her shoulder. She must have been crazy for doing this, but she didn’t feel like there was much choice otherwise. And the child growing in her sent a wave of urgency through her whenever she had the thought to turn around and go home.
She knew if she stayed here, gave birth here, they would take him. If she tried to have him without help, it might kill her. None of those options were viable. Sandra was already connected to her child in an unshakable way. She would not be without him and he would see that she was alive and safe.
Nefarion had told her on the phone that he and his Elite Commanders were heading back to the gate where they had first crossed. It just continued to get stranger the deeper she got into it with these men, these creatures. Red eyes, bloodlust, gates, Commanders; something was coming and it was huge. It would have frightened Sandra to her core before, but with the being in her womb, she had changed. It was a part of her. This made her wonder that when he was born, if the strong bond would be severed and she’d once again be her own person. Time could only tell. And she didn’t know how much time she had before he was ready to come.
The sound of a distant engine had her turning around and walking backwards, thrusting her thumb out. Her spare-less car had gotten a flat a few miles back and her phone was long dead. She just needed to get to the next town or gas station so she could charge it and call Nefarion to pinpoint exactly where this gate was.
Originally, the idea of hitchhiking as a single, pretty female would have been an obviously bad one, but her soon-to-be son gave her strength and malice she never thought possible. A streak of cruelty, now, seemed more dangerous to her than anyone with practiced fighting skills. When you liked the taste of your own blood in your mouth, but liked the sight of an enemy’s even more, one was capable of unimaginable forms of harm.
The John at the club hadn’t been her only incident. An old ex had come looking for her just a few days before she had departed on her current venture. After a short, heated argument, he’d hit her across the face, her teeth slicing against the inside of her mouth. The copper taste and the jarring pain had sent heatwaves of pleasure through her entire body and the back thought—that she now recognized as her unborn son’s thoughts—of wanting to see the man bloodied and dying urged her into action.
After smashing a mirror across the guy’s face, she’d bound his hands behind his back and used the broken shards to carve off the fingers of his assailing right hand. He lost consciousness after the removal of his third finger.
Once she’d regained her composure, Sandra had put the dismembered appendages in a bowl of ice and called an ambulance. The cops believed her story that the guy she just recently started dating had done the terrible deed and she had no idea where they could find him. They also didn’t believe she was capable of restraining him and holding him down while she performed the feat, probably why they swallowed her story so easily.
Sandra grimaced but put on her best smile when the car crumbled over the graveled shoulder. She pushed the memory away as the driver rolled down the passenger-side window.
“Hi, where are you trying to go?” The driver was a woman in her forties with an angsty-looking teenage boy skulking in the back seat.
Her unborn son was a faultless alarm for danger and he was quiet at the sight in the small, gold Camry. “I just need to get to a gas station or town where I can charge my phone, really. My car got a flat a few miles back. In the long run, I’m trying to get to a small town about nine miles southwest of Black Hawk.” She kept one hand on her belly while she rested the other on the windowsill to support her weight.
The blond woman nodded and waved her into the car. “Well, come on, I actually have a car charger you can use. My name is Sheila and this is my nephew, Lance.”
Sandra looked over her shoulder and gave the boy a close-lipped smile before introducing herself with her stage name. “Whiskey.”
The car rolled away from the shoulder and accelerated quickly.
“Well, Whiskey, what is a woman in your condition doing out here hitchhiking?” Sheila spared her a reproachful glance, hands at ten and two on the wheel.
“My friend didn’t inform me that her car didn’t have a spare and my phone just doesn’t hold a charge like it used to. I know I look incapable in this condition. But you’d be surprised.” Though Sandra was only a couple months into the pregnancy, it showed like she was due any day; another telltale sign that her boy was coming much earlier than what was natural, as well as attesting to how unnatural he was going to be.
* *
*
Lord and Queen
Saliea’s gaze meandered the reddish sky, its soothing glow basking on her new gray skin. Below, stretching across a great expanse of desolate plain like a make-shift shadow, was what looked like a mass graveyard--much less macabre than the view on the way into the fortress--mound after mound of dirt. In design, Saliea guessed twenty columns, stretching the width of the fortress. She was at a loss for the number of rows that faded off towards the horizon.
“Is that a graveyard?” Saliea inquired, too captivated to remove her eyes. She lifted an unnecessary hand in the direction of her gaze. Nefarion moved into her to share the small gap of the window, his large chest heating her bare shoulder.
“Something like that. Perhaps it would be better described as a garden.”
“A garden? What would Demons need with a garden?” Saliea finally tore her gaze away to meet
Nefarion’s with an incredulous glare. Her reaction elicited a fang-filled smile, his eyes slitting with the action.
“To expand our legion of course, my dear. You think warriors just fall from the sky?”
“They spring from the ground instead? Like that is a better explanation,” Saliea huffed, looking from the mounds to Nefarion, brows arched.
Nefarion laughed deeply, his powerful arm wrapping around her slender shoulders. “Ah, my Saliea. Our planet is like the female creatures of your world. She is what births us. But she must be given a starting point; flesh to work with. And even then we must wait for the liquid to fall from the sky. It comes very little.
“Our enemies often try to obstruct us from collecting our dead. It is part of warfare here, to burn the remains of the enemy. This aspect only concerns me when I lose a great many soldiers, which is rare. The Seraphs salvage all they can and as of recently, I have allowed them. Without enemies, Demons will soon turn on one another to sate bloodlust.”
“That is how you decided you would take Earth. It will save your race from massacring one another.”
Nefarion bowed his head deeply in affirmation. “As it will also save humans from massacring one another. Ironic, is it not?”
It was Saliea’s turn to laugh. She threw her small arms about his girth. “I would not have been against watching them destroy each other,” she stated wistfully. “In fact, I wished for it over and over. Their structure and society is a prison.”
“They will soon see that the way they live is false. Life is meant to survive, not to cope. And I am interested to see how this unfolds. They must sleep and need water and food. We do not sleep and the only sustenance we require is bloodshed. I am afraid we will obliterate them all too soon. How will we find our next?”