by Marc Mulero
Jayce briefly smirked at the small win.
A spark of electricity then flashed over Coe’s arm. “I’ll take care of this, and you two, yes you, Sabin, Jayce, will stay on site and try your hardest not to kill each other. Jayce, you’re in charge.”
Jayce irritably raised his chin and whirled, cape flapping behind him, acknowledging the order with distaste.
Sabin could only roll his eyes and flap his tiny half-cloak to mock him. This notion caused Coe’s eyes to narrow, as if to say “Can I count on you to keep peace?”
“Don’t worry,” Sabin said, tapping his binoculars. “I can follow orders.”
He trailed the two overseers, Coe and Vleece, out of the cavern and into the wind, pointing them in the right direction, giving them coordinates, and ensuring that he’d stay on his short leash. Up they went all the way to the top layer of the Centric Crater before Sabin knelt again, same as he did before – at the peak of the basin with mechanical goggles in hand.
“There they go,” he watched the two overseers speed off in opposite directions, disappearing quickly into the forest, veiled by their green cloaks and worn silver.
Sabin adjusted the lenses to find Coe sneaking through the bushes.
This one is fit to lead. He’s strong, resilient. He’s kind to his people and true to his cause. Why would my father think him ill-fit? I guess a better question is: why am I putting any weight on what my father thought, considering he was the mightiest of assholes.
The blond overseer gracefully waded through leafy white oaks and daunting willows. He hurdled over bushes and leapt over marshes, leaving no sound on his falls. There was something about the way he covered ground that reminded Sabin of himself. But it wasn’t until he watched Coe stalk up to the scene that the connection clicked.
No wonder he sympathizes with me... that man was a hunter before he was a Rogue. Our skillsets let us soar in rebellions. We are gatherers, killers, survivors. He was the first to jump into the mission without a second thought.
Sabin turned his head from the binoculars and scoffed. “That bastard old man… he knew Coe was like me. That’s what my father meant when he said that I wasn’t ready. A leader wouldn’t risk his life needlessly, like Coe is. Like I would. Even from the grave he haunts me.”
Sabin flicked the button on his radio to find their frequency and locked back onto his goggles. “There are still a few civilians in the pool.”
Coe ducked his head and plugged his ear. “I see them.”
Sabin shifted his stance for a better view, watching as two alpha-type animals stalked their prey. It was perfect. All eyes were on that moat, where a woman floundered desperately to keep from being pulled into the Estate. An ideal distraction so they can close in.
“Jeez… she, is, hysterical,” he said aloud to himself, watching this person who must’ve been screaming so loud her eyes were squeezed shut, mouth agape, feet kicking desperately to break free from an unfriendly hold.
“Bite them, stupid,” Sabin whispered.
“What was that?” Coe replied.
“N-nothing.”
The woman clawed and clawed, and winced to fight past armored gloves cutting into her skin, fingers stretching toward the water she’d just been taken from. Why? What was so valuable that would make her want to jump back into a muddied swamp? Either way, it became obvious that the soldier had enough when he raised his gun to fire, appearing to mouth one last warning to the crazed civilian.
Sabin’s hair stood on end. “Why in the seven hells is she grasping for the water? Did the Hiezers execute one of hers?”
Coe adjusted the voltage on his weaponized arm. “She’s incoherent,” he whispered with sadness.
The Hiezer held his chin up to avoid getting hit in the face until, finally, he showed the woman some mercy by knocking her unconscious with the butt of his rifle. He then tossed her body into the Estate like a heap of scrap metal.
“All clear now,” Coe revved his arm with electricity and rose from cover, holding it stiff. “I’m making the move.”
Sabin’s eyes suddenly grew wide when a spider web of hair floated to the water’s surface.
And then a little girl’s face emerged, spitting water and gasping for air. “Daddy,” she mouthed, holding up a wilted hand with both of hers.
Oh god.
His throat instantly ran dry, hands beginning to tremble as he watched her cry and throw up water all at once. So young, so innocent. Her face framed in his binoculars, hair whipping as she spun this way and that, dumbfounded that her mother was nowhere to be found.
Sabin shivered with panic… “No,” he said with more air than sound, in disbelief, fumbling for his radio before finally grabbing it. “No. No. No. C’mon!” His hands were shaking, nerves a mess. “Coe!” he screamed into it, but forgot to press the button. Click. “No, Coe! Pull back! I repeat - pull back!”
But Coe couldn’t hear. There were no voices now. This man had just stepped forward into a crowd of armed Hiezers… his heart must’ve been hammering against his eardrums; the piercing of electrical pulses must have pricked high like a dog whistle to a dog. His arm was blue with streams of tiny lightning, charging up, about to fire.
What could Sabin do now but grab at his hair stressfully, in awe, while watching this little girl clamor for her mother?
She’s so young. We can’t be responsible for something like this…
“Coe!” he shouted again with a hoarse voice.
Just as his arm shined with electrical current, Coe jerked back, flinching from Sabin’s voice overpowering his ear.
A puff of breath that Sabin didn’t realize he was holding blew from his mouth. “A little girl. We almost fried her!”
He watched Coe curse to himself and fall back into cover. A “Thank you,” came through radio as they both sighed with relief.
“On your mark.”
“Okay,” Sabin said to himself, regaining composure “Okay. Phew.” He switched focus back to the Estate where the little girl was being harshly lifted to safety. He watched a set of soaked, small legs dangle as she was raised from the raunchy pool, finally free from the death trap. He sighed again with relief, and then looked menacingly at the Hiezers trudging around in thigh-deep water. “Oh no you don’t!” he said while watching them make way to leave the flooded grounds.
“Now. Do it,” Sabin commanded. “Hurry.”
Coe rose once more, acknowledging Sabin’s direction with confidence, satisfaction even, for this was certain death for his enemies.
First came a cackling in his arm that stirred, followed by the voltaic pulse revolving like some intense particle collider… then crack. A bolt of electricity hissed as it shot into the moat. A flash of lightning burnt so bright and so brief that it felt like a blink.
Hiezer hearts were instantly shocked into submission – bodies paralyzed, limbs trembling from the voltage frying their nerves.
Sabin was right. These soldiers were not ready for this type of warfare. And so they cooked.
Coe wasn’t done, though. He was alive with bloodlust, now stepping out from the trees and into plain sight. He shot again, hand lurching back from the energy recoil and forcing these Hiezers to feel the wrath of lightning striking twice.
The hunter then shifted his vision west of the overseer to find another terrible scene: a lone Hiezer had escaped the water in time and was alerted to the terrorist attack. Now, feeling like Eugene without his rifle, Sabin could do nothing but hear his heart palpitate inside of him. And when the vengeful soldier took aim on the man with a metallic arm laying waste to his squad, Sabin jumped up in anticipation.
“Coe, get down!”
The ringing in the overseer’s ear overpowered the warning, though.
“Coe!” Sabin grimaced and ran forward, as if he could do anything else from this distance. “Damn it!” He raised his binoculars to look again and stopped cold in his tracks.
All he caught was the blur of a massive steel hammer whirling through
the air, the flat of which catching the sternum of the Hiezer and blasting him airborne. Crash! Body against a tree trunk. That same Hiezer looked up, eyes dazed but still able to follow the hammer arching into a second momentous swing. Thump. It hard stopped in between his shoulders, where his head used to take shape.
Sabin threw his hands up and shouted, “Yes!” He looked around to share the victory, then dropped onto his rump and fell onto his back. “This spectating stuff is exhausting.”
Chapter 7
Onward to Old Iceland in one of the Sin’s greatest stolen treasures that had led many missions in its early days. This cargo jet was a clunky, dark mending of metals, befitting of the gritty crowd voyaging within it.
Blague was watching midnight blue clouds glide past below him for what felt like hours, procrastinating against his nature, but for good reason. His father and Elaina’s shared moment. Words handed off to Blague like a message in a bottle floating across a sea of eternity. Could he recite them? Could he risk Orin not recognizing what he had said to her all of those years ago? The psychological damage if he’d forgotten, or if it’d never happened would be devastating.
Go, he thought to himself. And he did… dismissing himself from the cockpit. First, he saw Lesh leaning on the aircraft’s casing, where slivers of moonlit rays slashed at her face, compelling the dark blemishes under her eyes to glimmer. You asked for this, Lesh. To be brought in here, now, he shook his head. It won’t be easy.
Then there was his old man - sedentary in his usual open-eyed state of trance, clouds in place of his pupils darting to either side. A storm among stillness.
The Sin Leader’s mind was a mess of conflict. He had seen too much to think himself strong, and heard too many voices to think himself well. So to try and find solace, he settled next to the mysterious Ardian, wanting to reach out, but thinking better of it.
If I say the words, and they wind up being conjured figments of my own design, I will be broken for the rest of my days. All the others I’ve fought to protect would have to face these tyrants alone.
Elaina offered nothing but silence, for any additional comfort would be to send him further into a spiral. This was for Blague, and Blague alone to figure out.
He tried to free himself of the doubt, recognizing that time with the man beside him was never frequent enough, and so he crouched to Orin’s level. Hesitantly… so hesitantly, he placed a hand on the old man’s knee. “I… have words to share with you, father.” His green eyes patiently waited for the tempest to slow in his father’s clouded ones.
“Hmm,” Orin let out a muffled groan, but still remained under his own spell. An unconscious sniff and a twitch of his head pushed a few dangling locks away from his face, and with that, Blague almost fell backward.
He didn’t know why, but in this moment, there was an uncanny resemblance to Mulderan. White waves of hair were as silken as his brother’s. Build, demeanor, stature all mirrored one another in that instant, so much so that it choked his speech and left a knot in his chest.
Without Ayelan, my brother would’ve aged to look like our father. Life has taken strange turns, Elaina. It’s time to put my doubt to rest once and for all.
He gathered himself and once again rested a hand on the grumbling man. The words Elaina had gifted to Blague to deem him sane were etched into his mind. “You are everything that my son is not, and he is the same for you. If there were ever two people that better represented connection in this world, I would never find them…”
Orin grunted again, but this time his smoky eyes slowed to a stop, a moment of silence as he stared on, coming to. And when he did, a proud smile crept up his face. He heard the words… he had to, and when he cleared his throat, Blague was nearly beside himself with anticipation.
“You found her, son. I knew you would.”
Blague couldn’t help but smile back. Catharsis, at last. Finding someone who understood what it meant to be two parts of a whole, literally, provided a comfort that he had never known.
The Sin Leader hadn’t succumbed to madness, and now he was sure of it. Now he could finally be at ease. “I have so many questions… I don’t even know where to start.”
“Even if I have the answers, some are best found through experience.”
Blague nodded and looked to the floor, remembering when Elaina first broke through to his consciousness.
“We are Ardians, my boy. Both of us… rebirthed in a sense. We are rare too - an unstable blend of souls within the Society. A better half is someone you find when you are out in the world, exploring, leading, not cooped up in solidarity,” Orin preached.
“Hmph,” Blague sort of laughed, “Aslock did mention that what the Neraphis had to offer you was never enough.”
Orin joined in on the jest. “Well, when you spend a lifetime defining what purpose means to you, here on the outside, well then it is doubtful that anyone will ever be able to alter it, no matter how open your mind is. Damned if they tried though. Unless, of course, you are willing to surrender all that you believe.” He eyed his son curiously, leaning in closer to better scrutinize him. “Ah,” he leaned back again. “Is that what you are considering?”
“I could see myself surrendering my values to the Neraphis, actually. Yes. I could. They granted me renewed sanity when I was at the brink of despair. And Elaina… they brought her back to me. They resurrected her.”
Orin folded his arms within his sleeves. “Yes, the Neraphis are talented. They have achieved the unthinkable and are of sound purpose, above it all. Disciplined, intelligent, long-living, and willing to aid those who pass their tests. But there is one thing they did not do. They did not give you Elaina back. You did. They merely awoke you to the reality of Ayelan. They just gave you the tools, but you had to find her.”
“Why wasn’t it you who told me how to reach her, when we were up on the mountain? And why didn’t you teach me how to wield Cryos?”
Orin paused. “I am many things, but a patient and articulate teacher is not one of them. Halewyn and Aslock were bestowed with those gifts, so I guided you to them so that they would provide the same for you as they once did for me.” He raised his eyes to watch the assassin as she walked over to them. “And it appears to me that they made good on that hope.”
“It’s impossible not to eavesdrop on you old men,” Lesh said, crouching down to join them. “Something tells me you have answers to all of this madness.”
Their muted voices begged her question.
“Alright then. I witnessed Valor summon platforms out of thin air, Aslock stop an explosion that surely was supposed to kill us, all with Cryos.”
They both continued staring.
“Nothing? Fine. The Neraphis are older than the both of you, yet arguably look younger. Valor was talking to himself for fuck’s sake, disagreeing over a decision when there was no one around to contend him. He reminds me of… you,” she pointed at Orin. “Need I really go on? Care to make sense of all of this, any of it?”
Blague gently shook her shoulder. “I suppose you shouldn’t be heading into the Society blind.”
The assassin settled herself onto the floor, leaning backward on her elbow with one arm over a raised leg. She twirled her knife impatiently and awaited the explanation owed to her.
“I was distressed a time ago, Lesh, remember? I could barely think, could hardly stand.”
“I recall.” Lesh tilted her head to the side. “You were falling every few hours like a narcoleptic. I just thought your age had finally caught up to you.”
Orin tried to hold in a laugh.
“Not quite,” Blague smirked. “I was having visions of my late partner, Elaina. She appeared everywhere I went, materializing as a hazy figure that I just couldn’t seem to grasp. A ghost, Lesh. I thought I was losing my mind. My body couldn’t handle it. So I fell into despair more times than I’d like to admit.”
Lesh only blinked in response.
“It was him,” Blague pointed to Orin, “my father. He ha
d awakened me to the impossibility that nearly turned me mad. Long ago, I told you that the shot my brother injected into me, the one that keeps my life long and my body young, was Elaina’s essence encased in Ayelan. It gifted me life at the expense of her death. For a generation it has been the source of my fury… but Orin revealed something terrifying and exhilarating all at once. He told me that her consciousness had been captured and transferred to me, that she could be awoken again. The idea broke me, Lesh. He also told me that my mother still lives in him.” Blague’s head slumped, the thought still baffling him. “It’s clear now how Ayelan preserves life. It binds and confines two souls to work within one vessel.”
Lesh’s eyes were glued to Blague, her expression frozen in a state of confusion. “Have you both gone mad? You’re telling me that you both have your dead partners living inside of you…”
The men sat quietly for a moment, listening to the jet shuffling its way through turbulent air.
“The voice of my wife is as foreign and separate as yours hitting my ears,” Orin explained. “We have both proven ourselves sane many times over. The sooner you accept this fact, the more of a chance you have to be awoken into this new world that you are about to enter.”
Lesh rejected his advice. “No, my interests lie in how Cryos can enhance my abilities. I’ve seen with my own eyes what it can do. You can keep your Ayelan, and your smoke.”
Blague grinned. “I’m sure the Neraphis can infuse you with a willing soul, if you requested,” he jested.
“And have some pussy whispering in my ear every time I take a risk? No, thank you.”
Orin and Blague chuckled at the thought, and so did their counterparts.
“Alright, alright, let’s move on to business,” Blague said as his laughter waned. “We’re making this journey to comprehend and combat our new enemy, the Aura. If there is any way to contest their unnatural powers, Society N will find it. But it would be foolish to think we can understand our foe, before fully understanding our ally. I’m privy to some information, but not all.”