by Marc Mulero
“So many of your Sin family members have suffered ill-fates. Briggs, Lito, nearly half of your spy regiment. But your heart still beats. You have a chance to carry on. Don’t waste it, my dear,” Cherris’ voice firmed.
The spy commander stared toward the light peeking from the room’s sole window. Her eyes were two dried up figs, spotted with burst vessels and covered with heavy lids. Whether or not the matriarch’s words were sinking in, she couldn’t tell.
Cherris rose from her seat and patted Volaina’s leg. “There’s no shame in admitting defeat, and there would be even less shame in giving me a hand with some small chores. It will be good for you. It’ll get you back on your feet.”
Volaina lowered her eyes from the window, trying to avoid the pit of despair that was her mind. “You’re very kind, Cherris. But if Blague and the commanders choose for me to keep on breathing, I have to suffer this sentence. I don’t see any shortcuts.”
“We already had one glum sack of bricks, we don’t need you to be his replacement,” Cherris said, lingering in place while adjusting the shawl around her shoulders.
Volaina blinked, her eyelids feeling like sandpaper rubbing against wood. “What of Eugene’s fate? He did well in Blague’s absence. He made the right calls. I hope he pulled through,” she said weakly.
A hesitant Cherris exhaled a long breath before saying, “It was said that he stole Lito’s life.”
Volaina whipped her head to look back at the matriarch. “What? That’s impossible…”
“Blague thought so, too, but apparently he chose to side with his beloved.”
He stood in front of me when Sabin threatened to strike me down, back in the Centric Crater. Every move he made since then has been for the Sins. For him to take Lito’s life, let alone switch sides, simply cannot be.
The spy couldn’t believe it. “I’ve spent my whole life studying and reading people,” a spark of life returning to her voice. “Every part of me knows that what you just said is untrue.”
“I’m sorry, dear. Sometimes people change their minds,” Cherris said remorsefully. “My offer still stands, if you change yours.”
She turned slowly and headed for the door.
Lesh paced behind Dendrid, watching the steps of a self-convicted prisoner… how the weight of each foot was perfectly even, stride succinct, eerily so. Even though the entire crew trailing her showed the obvious signs of anxiety, Lesh knew exactly what to do upon his slightest misstep.
Do it. I dare you. Four blades wait to poke through your throat.
It wasn’t clear whether it was the man’s reputation or his demeanor, but he had a gift for making others uncomfortable, whatever that was worth. Even Lesh was fantasizing in the worst way.
Slip out of your shackles and free yourself. Try to make a bloody mess of things, Shade, I dare you.
She clenched the hilt of a sharp knife, ready if the need arose.
But there were bigger problems, weren’t there? Someone surrendering their services to the Sins wasn’t the worst of it. Surely not. One glance at the boys beside her told that story.
Milos’ steps were different than their prisoner’s – heavy and dragged. Defeated, this poor kid. His body was shaped like a cane, neck curved toward the floor as if an invisible hand were holding it down. The only interest he seemed to have was the sand at his feet.
It was the Hiezers… they were the problem.
Kentin looked up at her, asking, begging for assistance with his round eyes. If anyone could bring Milos back to reality, it was his teacher. He shrugged, saying “Please, c’mon,” with his body language.
She could, too. She knew the feeling, all too well actually. She also knew that the wound was still too fresh for anything meaningful to be done. If he were a stranger to death it’d be different, maybe. But there was no sugarcoating anything for the boy now. So what else? Just trudge on, Milos – his curly hair swinging to each side, exaggerating his sulky pace.
This boy has the same shit luck as Sabin. Every step he takes… cursed. All that he cares for fades to dust. Death mocks him like he mocks me…
“Don’t worry, child, in time you’ll learn how to smile back at our reaper. You’ll learn to do as I do, and make him work for you.”
Lesh then raised her eyes to see Blague emerging from the back of the main Sin fortress to greet his guests.
Blague stopped a few feet away. “What’s this? I count double, maybe triple than when you left. I take it you found what you were looking for?”
“Farah and her crew banded together in desperation. It was the only way to survive the Hiezers’ orders. Murder on sight even for the other classes, Blague. They’ve gone mad.”
“Hmm,” he nodded, “so I’ve heard. What do we have here?”
Lesh looked back and said, “Robotics engineers, construction workers, builders - everything a budding city needs.”
“I have no doubts there,” they were both dancing around the obvious, ignoring it, ignoring him – Dendrid. “One of the crew members carries the body of a child. What-”
Milos turned his head away sharply. The acknowledgement made it all so real again, Lesh could even see he was holding back tears.
He doesn’t want me to see. Good. He should know better. I’ll have none of it.
Morn interrupted Blague with a hiss. “Not a good time, boss man,” he said in his Southern drawl, hoisting Dendrid’s two swords over his shoulder.
The Sin Leader followed Morn’s eyes to Milos, and then pursed his lips, recalling the kid’s tribulations since the beginning.
“Life tests him, but he’s strong,” Lesh’s raspy voice cracked.
The words seemed to have blown life into Milos – his chest suddenly puffed, the encouragement of his revered teacher giving him strength. It wasn’t enough though. Just a bandage on a gaping wound, and so there he went, shrinking back down, still unable to shake this reality.
Blague crouched lower to give his condolences to Milos. “It doesn’t matter how many people you lose Milos… you’ll never be alone,” he said quietly. “You will always have family in me, in her,” he motioned to Lesh, speaking quietly so not everyone could hear. “Remember that,” he patted him twice.
He sniffed hard and decided it was time to address the elephant in the room. It was tactical – a show of priority – his people before an outsider. But now it was time.
“Death Valley… is a long, long, way from where you should’ve been.”
Dendrid’s hooded eyes remained as such. The bottom half of his pupils now fixated on the man he sought to find. “I fled from my cage.”
“That answers so little.”
“For years,” he sneered, likely thinking back to his captivity, “I’ve looked up over the Hiezer boot pressing down on my neck. Do you know what I saw? All of their intentions, what they thrive on, what they seek. I know it all. But these motives are not mine, oh Master of the Sins. I seek not dominance, but retribution,” his voice cackled between words. “Now that I’m free of them, I realize that the Sins must seek the same.”
Blague stared at him inquisitively, going along before he said his piece, “What retribution do you seek, Dendrid?”
The Mentis Shade flexed his long arms, causing a few of the crew members to flinch. “The shadows cursed my mother, and forced her to torture me. I will find them. But, until I do, I would prefer to aid you in taking down a common enemy.”
Lesh looked at her prisoner curiously.
I’ve been told that he murdered his entire family. He speaks of shadows cursing them… is he referring to himself?
Blague refrained from asking any follow up questions. That was a project for another day. “You were unchained when you took the lives of innocents in their homes.” He motioned to the fortress behind him. “I would entertain your story if you walked a different path, but you chose to add to the Hiezers’ chaos… their motives.”
Gritting his teeth with a tense jaw, Dendrid defended himself, “I began paying
that debt the moment I took them from you. The Hiezers howl of the Sins and the Rogues operating as one. ‘The worst rebellion threat in Hiezer history’ they call you. All on account of my words to your precious Sabin.”
“Information does not make up for taking innocent lives,” Blague said in an even voice.
Dendrid let out a sarcastic grunt. “Oh? Does that same mantra apply to your spy?” he challenged.
Lesh’s eyes widened and her grip tightened. She felt the sting of Volaina’s grief, reacting on behalf of her leader.
“Once the Hiezers receive word that I’ve come to aid the Sins, my insides will fry and I will be of no use to anyone. Play your games. Chain me once more, but do not waste. I still have much to answer for. Remove this eel from my spine so that I can be of use again.”
“We’ll do what we can.” Blague then looked over at Lesh and nodded. “It’s time to depart. Orin has been waiting.” He cycled back to the serial killer before turning to walk away. “The families of those you murdered will decide your fate. You will rot in a cell until they pass judgement.”
“So be it,” the Mentis Shade whispered.
Chapter 5
The cement ground quickly warmed the soles of Jason’s boots, making him feel like he was walking on hot tar. He’d forgotten what it was like to have a body - calloused skin, joints, ligaments that stretched and bent, sensations of unnatural warmth within the artic. It was different than living in a cloud. Far different…
Then there was the floating isle he was balancing upon. This weird unworldly piece of land parked in the sky. On its surface, moisture accumulated into puddles before his eyes and zoomed across the plain, clapping into one another before bursting. It was odd. Science was behaving differently than he’d remembered. Rocks tumbled off of the cracked ledges and into the ocean below – that was the same at least.
Gravity, he thought, what a useless pondering when you’re as light as air, and how essential it is when you’re as heavy as a rock.
Crimson smoke coated each floating step below him, like beacons lit for war. What had Auront become?
Atop the highest step, Jason watched the Hiezers with pride as they constructed the Aura’s first tower.
“Inhabitable, finally,” he said to the hive, lips still. “Don’t stare, don’t stare… just know that it is coming.” He looked to his newfound allies, judging to see if they’d notice the strangeness.
They did, no doubt. These guests had arrived just weeks ago, and already the skeleton of a grand fortress stood in place. The Hiezers had sent builders of high reputation to realize this vision – a less curious and more fearful lot in comparison to the usual scientific elite. It must’ve been the uneasy presence of the Aura keeping them in quick work – their scarlet skin and eccentric robotic movements. It was enough to make any outsider wary.
Every now and then a builder would peer over their shoulder, often enough to be perceptible. But Jason paid such idiosyncrasies no mind. Their partners of black and gold held true to their promises, for Mulderan wanted something in return. This was merely an exchange of services, a joint venture that wasn’t meant to last.
Jason’s mind blinked with possibility. Flashes of the completed fortress stenciled into his vision, abstract colors snaking into sight. Wait a second… what were these forms that were taking shape? A formation of jets rushing overhead. No, he thought, bombardiers coming straight for our new home.
His hearing adapted to his foresight, enveloping him, gifting the full experience of what would be their demise.
He snarled. “Bleakness that will never be. I need time… I need Asura. She will be the defense against this invasion. She is the key, and always has been.”
Suddenly, he tensed, willed off his balance by the peculiar atmosphere and shoved back to reality. There it was again, that strangeness brought forth by this floating isle. It took a second, but he eventually gathered himself, and was reminded that no destruction had befallen them yet. The ever-changing kingdom was still his, and so he flexed his fingers awkwardly, assuming a position that Eugene never would.
“This is the beginning of our dominion,” he said to the hive. “I see all. But we must be cautious and ready, for there is a coming storm, my devoted legion, one that we will weather true. And by the end of it, Mulderan will bow at our feet and his technology will be ours. The Sins?” A few weak telepathic concerns crawled back. “Please. Blague will be sinking to the bottom of these blue depths soon enough.”
Jason spun away from the constructs to face a nearby ledge, peering down to the ocean’s surge. He wanted to feel triumphant when looking down upon his Aura, to watch them working seamlessly with a sort of pride. Bridge building had never been so seamless – soldiers with the same precise movements, like an assembly line of flesh and bone directed minds and guided hands to connect the four suspended landmasses together.
Asura, you are always hard at work, aren’t you? Always preparing for greatness. It’s true then: you must see what I see. The echoes of time return to me in this body. I can foretell again. And the wars, an invasion from the outside world. Well, we’ll show them what it means to oppose a god…
But with all of this high and mighty speech from a self-proclaimed god came a very human-like shiver. Fear of heights. One look down showed a distance of naked air that so few men have seen. This weakness wasn’t his own though. Eugene, you coward. The mortal tingles webbing from his stomach weakened his stance like acid eating through bone. It crumpled him. This vessel – Eugene’s body – wasn’t without its faults. Remnants of his wants, fears, yearnings all peeked through, giving this scarlet deity semblances of human emotion that he’d abandoned long ago. He despised the distractions. Loathed them.
A grunt of defeat. Pathetic, he scolded Eugene and himself as he was forced to step away from the verge to keep from puking. He shut his eyes hard to the point where crow’s feet formed beside them. A shake of his head willed the fear away. More important things to do.
“Ah,” he sighed, some comfort there, toward the end opposite the tower, a place more familiar. Smoke sprouted high as he approached, greeting him. The vapor tumbled in place like a cluster of clouds in a harsh storm. To Jason, its thickness was inviting, a native source of power that he was drawn to.
He parted the dark fog and passed into it. “Ah,” another sigh, “this feels right.”
His shirt peeled back into the abyss like dying embers. Veins and capillaries burned a glowing red, protruding, racing down his body from neck to belt. This was a form that he took before death, the face he wore before his throat was slit. Teeth became fanged and his eyes, crazed. No more masks, no more weaknesses. The hazy substance had a will of its own and chose to display Jason how it pleased – a more complete specimen.
His shame melted away with ease. Thumping from his heavy feet cracked the ground as he swam past the blankets of fog. This was confidence. This is how he should face her. And there she was – Asura, sitting like carved stone. She was a shrine orchestrating her minions, emanating an almost tangible energy.
Sensing the other god’s presence, she smiled and commanded the matter encircling her to swiftly twist into a funnel, swaying, revolving around her as she concentrated her will.
“This allegiance with the Hiezers will be provisional. I envision its undoing. Although our collective grows, our seamless army will not be enough. I know you sense it, too,” Asura’s voice traveled, but her lips were sealed.
Jason let capillaries slither through his arm, and then sprung them forward. The thin red quills pierced through his skin and shot into the abyss. “In here, reality bends to our will. We are the rulers of this domain. We need only to fight on our terms, on our turf.”
Asura stood up, slowly raising her gaze to meet Jason’s. “I can transport this reality anywhere. Once our shared mind is developed, once we cull new souls into the collective, we will achieve the harmony that the smoke wills us toward. No enemy will stop us then,” she said, using her voice to car
ry her words.
“There’s urgency to all of this. I sense we will be at odds sooner than we would hope. We must weaponize it, Asura. The smoke, it calls to you. Embrace it!” Jason spread his arms to emphasize his point, willing his body to dilate and expand. His muscles hardened into shimmering crimson scales. He was testing his renewed power in this scarlet arena.
The goddess balled her fist, sending the tornado of smoke into a cycling frenzy. It began to envelope her, twisting around her body and blowing her hair in every which direction. “When I was restoring you from a bodiless form back in Senation, I almost perished at Eugene’s hands. I felt it. His crosshair was pressed to my forehead. It was in that moment of despair that I found strength unlike any other. I willed the smoke with every cell in my body. I willed it to consume my enemies and restore you through your gateway that was Eugene’s wound. If that moment finds us again, I won’t hold back.”
The tornado surrounding her quickly dissipated, revealing Asura as the smoke meant for her to appear. The scars that ran down her face – from eyes to chin – were illuminated red and carved deep into her skin. Sparse black coverings melted onto her body, hard-pressed, sharp, so tight that her ribs traced through this new flesh. It invigorated her like the briefest of orgasms – her mouth agape as all of the hair on her head was being pulled back tight, so it could bond into a single strand, curving down her back like a sickle. The smoke was angered, feeding off of her, cycling through aggressively – working, reforming, not ending until her eyes burned crimson. Now… she was ready.
“More befitting of you, Asura.”
She acted as though nothing had happened. “While our recruiters work to find worshippers, we will stay here, forming the bonds that we were meant to with this manifestation of power,” she demanded. “I will learn to strike invaders down before it’s too late.”