by Marc Mulero
“You… saved them, Milos,” Kentin knelt down to the gargling corpse, horrified. “But it could be you I’m looking at next time, like this. I’ve seen it before, you know. Caused it, rather. That recklessness is how I got my dad killed.” He stood up, ripped Milos by the arm and bodied him back toward a spot with cover.
“We’ve been training nonstop for times like this. Uncle Briggs and Uncle Lito can’t protect us now. That’s what Lesh has been trying to tell us. We have to fight for ourselves,” Milos rebuked, swinging free from Kentin’s hold.
Side by side, they walked forward cautiously, inspecting the sea of corpses on their search for Oosnie.
“We’ve been hearing different things then. I hear that we should work to stay alive,” Kentin’s voice strained.
Milos turned to respond with his mouth hanging open, about to fire back, when he suddenly fell silent.
A flash memory took him somewhere else in time, a better place. It blanketed his mind like a cover swaddling a child. Serenity, and not a memory of his mother for once. Instead, this time, it was Oosnie dressing his wounds, frowning when he flinched, comforting him.
I could stay here forever.
Then a jump in time took him down to her basement apartment – hand in hand - her dragging him into her home.
She was so proud, he thought.
Even though he could only see rusted pipes, dust, dinginess, she forced him to pay attention to the little details. Her decorations – half tattered ribbons hanging around, a frayed lampshade covering a flickering bulb. Things that she found on her travels when other kids were in trade schools. So simple. It was pathetic and beautiful all at once… just like her.
Finally, another jump. This one struck the chord, a lump forming in his throat when he felt her handing him the flower as a gift, a link that would one day pull them together again.
It happened so fast, like a whirlwind of time. But as blissful as it was, it too, faded. Now only grimness was left. The sight in front of him… not Kentin, but beyond him.
He clenched his fist when the feeling of her warm hand faded. A new nightmare had begun. There, not too far in the distance, amid a pile of bodies discarded so haphazardly, lay Oosnie. Her large eyes once gleaming with life now stared blankly into the clouded sky, like miniature lightbulbs that lost their shine.
He dropped to the ground in defeat, gasping like he’d been punched in the stomach – winded – his recovering heart struck down once more.
“But mom,” he said aloud, “I thought you were watching… I thought you heard me.”
Kentin’s brow furrowed in Milos’ peripheral, before he faded away entirely.
Time slowed and his hearing became muffled. It was too much to see her like this – a face of broken promise – his promise to her. She meant everything to him. A sort of rebirth after his mother died. Not the hardness that Lesh offered, but something else. Warmth.
Not anymore.
The whites of her eyes were as dirtied as her still face. Her brown hair that used to jump in the wind now rested quietly over her cheeks. Milos covered every detail to be sure, lost in a timeless scrutiny. He gazed until his mind could finally accept that every part of her was gone.
She had so little in her life, but she was still as bright as the sun. You didn’t deserve this, Oosnie. You deserved to live. If only you had a better protector. If only I could’ve been faster.
What felt like an eternity of reflection was abruptly ceased by the slam of Kentin’s back onto the broken wall beside them. A chill ran down Milos’ spine upon watching his friend curl over. An ear-piercing ring slowly transformed into Kentin’s shriek as Milos’ hearing returned to him. But it was too late - two guards three times their size stood over them with deadly weapons at their backs. The fresh corpse of a Hiezer lying in plain sight didn’t help their chances of getting out alive.
The butt of a rifle slammed into Milos’ back. He felt his head whip, his vision blur, before he was nearly level with the ground on all fours. Pain shot up his spine like he was being impaled by a thousand tiny stakes. It hurt so bad that his teeth felt loose. A dry heave. A cough. It was over for them, he realized, and there was nothing else to do but die.
“Sins… we have orders to shoot Quarantine deserters. Your youth won’t save you in these times. It will be made painless if you explain the death of that Hiezer,” one of the two guards said, mashing his boot into Milos’ hand.
The guard cocked his gun, communicating that he wasn’t negotiating.
“Send me to hell,” Milos said with a shaken voice. “Send me!” he shouted, staring at the floor, watching the saliva drip from his mouth.
Kentin reached over with a shaking hand, landing it on Milos’ arm. He tried to comfort his friend with the last of his will.
The two Hiezers exchanged a look and then readied to fire.
Suddenly, resonances of tearing flesh, blood spilling, and shrieks of agony followed. Crunches of bone sounded above the injured boys. What was left of the Hiezers fell to the ground in front of them - two mangled corpses twitching in death.
“To think, you were once to be subject to the wrath of my blade, boy. But now, it moves to spare your life,” a smoker’s voice resonated above them. “You were in the way of my path at a time, but now you will lead me to it.”
Kentin’s eyes were squeezed shut from the sting of being struck, but that voice had terrified him since the day of Mulderan’s escape, and so he opened them to see Dendrid wiping blood off of his curved blades.
“I’ve been waiting, gentlemen… very, very patiently. I needed a boat to take me west, you see, to the exiled continent, to your land.
“I thought about it, sure, but figured I’d be mad if I believed I could make the swim.” Dendrid let out a horrifying laugh. “To see a Sin ship made matters more promising. Against the odds, you’ve managed to survive the Quake… the lowest of the low, still on the surface, when so many others were buried. The exiled have potential.”
“You killed Sins that day, and almost killed Sabin. You’ll always be a Hiezer!” Kentin scolded, trying to stand.
Dendrid flung one of his swords into the other hand and grasped Milos by the back of his collar, lifting him to his feet. “They were my captors, and I’ve since made your people whole for the pain that I was forced to inflict.”
“You didn’t look like you were forcing anything that day. You laughed when you fought Sabin,” Kentin recalled, keeping his distance from the Mentis Shade.
Milos stood in a catatonic state, still staring at Oosnie’s body just a few feet away.
“This is not the place to discuss anything further. Take me to the woman who stood at the helm of your boat,” Dendrid demanded.
In that instant, the Mentis sidestepped a flying knife that would’ve cleaved his throat. He flipped the second blade back into his other hand and twirled them both into a blur, deflecting two more knives. He ended his swing with his arms spread to a sharp stop. The curves of his weapons framed both kids’ faces as they pressed against their necks.
“Smile pretty for me, boys. It appears she has come to me. Just be still, I won’t hurt you. I just want a word with her.”
His heavy eyes followed the acrobatic assassin that drew near, and his midnight blue hair swayed in the wind. Arms were flexed frozen, unflinching as his aggressor advanced. Kentin held onto the dull side of the blade that wrung his neck, while Milos let his head droop over the one that pressed against his.
“An IV bag and curved swords. You must be the ‘Mentis Shade,’” Lesh’s voice cracked. Her hardened eyes were glued to the man, knives firmly gripped in each hand. “What could you possibly want with them?”
Dendrid swung both of his blades faster than Lesh could’ve reacted, making two fans of wind in front of the kids and causing them to flinch. He then tossed both swords onto the dusty floor in front of her. “I want a second chance. I’ve killed for the Hiezers more times than I’d like to admit, but that time has ended. My intui
tion draws me to the Sins. To you.”
Chapter 3
An hour of quiet beneath him. And another. Still no movement under his gravitational orb. From what Mulderan could gather, the Quake was finally over. And there he stood, unscathed. Victorious. Unlike the Sins whose brains were rattled for days on end, unlike those who were swallowed by the cracks… the Hiezers were prepared, untouched by the world’s wrath.
Finally, it was time to relish in triumph. He stepped onto a floating disc that brought him back to ground level, observing the city’s new arrangement along the way. Vast structures that somehow grew wider in adaptation to the land’s stretches - like liquid metal molded and fully forged, so too was the Grand City of Nepsys. Sure, there was work to be done, but this was as good as it was going to get.
He bent down to one knee and wiped a finger over the freshly hardened ground. “Flawless. Our city continues to shine in black and gold, our gates stand unabridged. All is going according to plan.”
The smell wafting through the streets was strange - less of prim gardens and fresh flowers, more of sulfur, and burning metal.
“A minor inconvenience,” the Highest Lord mumbled as he strode forward. Regal pauldrons embellished already strong shoulders, and each Obsidian orb resting within them was glazed like a dragon’s blackened eyes. Every part of him was kingly – his donned cloak expertly woven into the heavy armor framing his collar, golden streaks shimmering around rich, dark fabric that extended down to his boots. Nothing short of perfection. A statue, a memorial, a masterpiece come to life.
Mulderan, leader of the New World. Not his father, no. Not Orin the Redeemer. It was him. This was his show. Mulderan the Undying.
Skin still fair and ageless wrapped tightly around his symmetrical face like porcelain. How was it that he was still unstressed, after all of this? His manner exuded such certainty. How was control still his domain?
“Eldra,” his shadow of a grin apparent. “My wife. Queen of the Undying. That’s what we will be called in time, when others come and go, and our hearts still beat. Do you like the ring of it? I do.”
Eldra inhaled sharply to regain herself. It had been an arduous few days. Uncertainty. Fear. You know, normal human responses to the apocalypse. But her position didn’t allow for her to show any of it.
She straightened and nodded to her husband. “I do.”
Push the seismic turmoil down deep into your gut. Bury it so I can resume my cold position in leadership by his side.
“It is inevitable. Now I see it. Your vision will never dull.” She bowed slightly.
“Quite right. Tell me, has the Amaranthine Directive been put into motion?” Mulderan questioned.
“Yes, the order has been given. Our scientists are so thrilled to be alive that they’re moving at a soldier’s pace. Ayelan transference will begin immediately and they’re synthesizing all of it. Every surviving Hiezer elite within these walls will be preserved in a day’s time. Then the short-livers, whatever remains of them, will have nothing left to do but bow.”
“Excellent,” he narrowed his eyes in approval, “admirable work, Eldra. To coordinate and ensure our ship stays on course amid uncharted waters is difficult. But now it seems, I must do the same. Assurance between you and I, leaders who stand together, master and war general, we must be on the same page. Now tell me why, in a time as volatile as now, would I utilize our stash?”
He’s acting strange… is this his way of being excited?
A gust of wind raked her hair over her patched eye socket as if nudging her to be careful. “To retain the world’s most brilliant minds, most capable hands, most worthy survivors in the event of another quake. In the face of humanity’s doom, the gifted must live on. Why else?”
“Hah!” A sole, unnerving laugh escaped Mulderan before he turned his back to her. “Indeed, why else,” he spoke lowly, ominously. “Walk with me.
“It’s time, I believe. My trust in you has reached its peak. No faltering, not an ounce, not in battle nor calamity, and for that, there is something I’m ready to show you.”
His offer was vague, odd, leaving the Ice Queen to ponder what her husband could’ve meant by it.
But he just walked on ahead, all this talk of being the elite was now justified, all of his arrogance, vindicated. Boots clacked against a street of reformed shining black marble, beside borders of risen golden waves that sat frozen in time to trace the streets. Sculptures of the Hiezer symbols glistened, and statues of guardians grew taller the closer they got.
Closer to what? Eldra couldn’t believe it… Mulderan’s residence. Is that where they were headed? The untouchable spired fortress?
She wanted to gasp, truly. It didn’t matter that she’d murdered thousands, nor that she had a reputation to be the most ruthless war general of the New World. This… it frightened her. Since she was a child, when he still looked the same as he does now - she must have walked past, around, or flown over this fortress a thousand times, but was never permitted inside. Yet she always wanted in. Always. And that kind of accumulation twisted her organs into a fine knot. A marriage of love and trust, this was not. Unchartered territory indeed.
The Ice Queen was selected for a specific reason. Where warm compassion and blood should flow through her veins, she had only ice, where mercy should be considered, only cold thoughts. And that’s what was needed in order to match an equally deadly force: Mulderan’s fire.
A calm and collected man whose decisions burned through the ill-fated needed a partner who could keep up, a partner who could serve the collective without trivial desires. Their secrets were their own, and it wasn’t even a thought to question one another. Until now…
And so, together, they moved toward the strange apparatus that was the spire’s entranceway. She’d never been this close. Its face concaved outward like a beast with multiple mouths, and the doorway overlaid with an excessive number of diagonal barricades prevented admission.
“If a bullet would have struck me in our wars, or if my resurrected father stuck his blade into my throat, my history would have remained shrouded,” Mulderan riddled while placing his palm on the construct’s face and turning it slowly. “But we are so far along now. We’ve reached a point of no return. After you enter this palace, there’s no turning back,” he warned while the advanced deadbolt system unlatched. “Are you prepared?”
Eldra’s confusion and curiosity piqued. There was no other viable answer but “Yes.”
As the two walked past the temporary admittance, the door shut behind them even faster than it invited.
“When I was a boy, my father was concerned that I had the drive of my mother,” he scoffed, “though he may have chosen different words. Psychosis, obsession maybe. Dust in the wind. Regardless, this difference let’s call it, was a steadfast and absolute will that he proclaimed to be dangerous.
“My protests meant nothing. I was dismissed – just a stupid unknowing kid who would grow out of a phase. So, he did what a worried parent thought best, and kept a close eye on his ‘troubled’ son. I was confined to a fading R&D sector of his corporate conglomerate, Ingora, where he let me conduct pointless research that he claimed to be potentially groundbreaking. I saw right through it, of course. His fault lied within his arrogance, because of course his son was immune to his magnetic charm… of course his son wouldn’t grovel like the peasants, who were always hoping that he’d glance in their direction. The young me knew, with absolute clarity, that I was being cast away to nothingness,” Mulderan spoke these words on his way through a maze of infinitely regal rooms.
Eldra kept her icy countenance from thawing, despite the fact that no living person had ever stepped foot in Mulderan’s cage. It took her utmost discipline not to reveal her wonderment.
“The economic downturn left the R&D sector shattered, reducing it to a fraction of what it was. And so the company narrowed its objectives to be more in line with its vision. But I knew, there was a time when Ingora was expansive and ambitious. Thos
e were its most intriguing times. Not the cobweb filled, inactive basements I was sent to. On my curiosity went. In my boredom I cycled through old records, scrapped files, rummaging through some of the most aspiring projects that were left unfinished.”
“Hmm,” Eldra chimed in, feeling like she had to. “I recall reading that Ingora survived the worst recession in the Old World specifically because it receded inward. ‘Consistent adaptation to the times,’ is what the company was praised for and what arguably threw it into the history books.”
She watched him think, still bewildered, staring into those unblinking eyes. Why did he choose now to dive into his past? Why reflect now? Was this his way of celebrating?
“Consistent adaptation… yes, I recall. So much praise from the outside. But in truth, theses ideals should never have been applauded. I loathed the behavior of a fearful company, similar to how I loathe the behavior of a fearful person, Eldra. Both are organisms in my mind, and both retreat to its core and most basic functions in times of distress. Pitiful. They abandon the idea of evolution and regress into archaic methods, and for what, just to maintain existence? Lions devolving into sheep. These are ideas of weakness, ideas that I’ve worked tirelessly to remove from this planet.”
“Well, the Hiezers aren’t devoid of fear, but they are the closest thing to supreme humanity. These specimens will be fortified after the coming injections. You’ve done well, Mulderan,” Eldra complimented firmly.
“I’ve done more than you know. Yet there is still much to do. Such a curious thing, that I’ve met beings who also believe they exist in a higher stratum. The Aura - we must explore their smoked island when we’re done here,” he declared, stopping at an enormous door.
The entrance was engraved with an astronomer’s dream – tailed stars sprinkled through a canvas of sky or maybe comets that were rushing toward an already barren ground to destroy earth. It was a bleak picture. Why was this man so obsessed with apocalypse? And why were they headed through a door that showed such? Eldra’s mind was on fire with questions. The door curved outward at either end, like two luxurious boomerangs bonded together. It was an enclave that masked the Highest Lord’s darkest demons, one that they were about to enter.