by Marc Mulero
“You should start us off, Blague. Inform the assassin and I will fill in the gaps,” Orin suggested.
Blague nodded and began, “There are many archetypes of dual consciousness, or duality, brought forth by Ayelan. Each merger brings about certain enhanced traits, unique to the specific bond. Many of the Neraphis spend their preserved lives honing their comprehension of such matters. My father and myself are labeled ‘Ardians,’ bound to the women we love. You’ve met Valor, he’s bound to his brother, Wildern. They are an ‘Ohndian,’ heightened with great agility and coordination.”
Lesh rolled her eyes. “He wouldn’t have fared too well before the merger, then,” she said, recalling her bout with the Neraphis.
Orin laughed again. “The Society is going to love you.”
Lesh responded with a ghost of a smile, and then shifted her gaze between the two of them. “What of you two? What can Ardians accomplish?”
Blague looked to the floor. “I… don’t know,” he admitted. “Aslock told me to ask you.” He looked over at his father.
Orin’s cloudy eyes rotated to his son’s. “Surely you know deep down. You must have experienced phenomena that only Elaina could offer you.”
Blague thought back to when Volaina bled out in front of him at the Battle of the Dome, and the life-saving knowledge that Elaina had passed unto him within the blink of an eye. “We can inherit experiences from our partners?”
“Yes, that is certainly part of it. The other archetypes can understand the pasts of their secondary’s, but we can become them. We can feel their experiences in our bones, as if the primary had performed the tasks countless times before. The Ardian bond provides a seamless flow of knowledge and experience, the truest form of connection.”
“You sound biased,” Lesh said. “I would prefer Ohndian if I had to choose so far.”
Blague looked to the floor, fixated on his own bond. “Is that what makes us the most powerful?”
Orin tilted his chin. “Combined with another trait, sure. As with most relationships with significant others, we have a tendency to want to protect one another. The Ardian merger pushes our bodies to become guardians of others. We are willed to become paladins of those we care about. Think back to your actions, think back on mine.”
“Cherris said you saved her when Mulderan stormed our keep,” Lesh endorsed.
“I saved Volaina when I thought it was the end of her, almost instinctively. Elaina saved her, actually.”
“You both did,” Orin confirmed. “You will also see that Cryos works well with Ardian bonds. You will learn to use it fittingly.”
Lesh’s curiosity piqued. “Let’s say I play along with this notion of duality. Then what of a bondless? Would I be able to wield Cryos?”
Orin inspected the intense assassin. “You clearly have the chemical,” he nodded to her faintly glowing arm. “But it will not be the lack of duality that prevents you from wielding it.”
“Stop speaking in riddles,” she narrowed her eyes.
“It took me quite a while to subdue my rage,” Blague interrupted, “but I dare not compare my training to the trial you’re destined to face. To manifest and bend the substance to your will, you have to first understand tranquility.”
“Something I imagine your lethal spirit has never experienced,” Orin commented.
Lesh slammed the knife point into the ground. “I’ll find my own way.”
“We will see.” Orin straightened to where the moonlight shed a soft light onto his face.
Nearly an entire minute passed afterward.
There, he did it again, appearing to go somewhere else in his mind, to retreat from consciousness if but for a moment. Whether he was deliberating with Blague’s mother, or untangling some other mystery, neither of his audience members could know. But Lesh knew something was up as she looked to Blague and found the same faraway look. Both of them were connecting their thoughts at the expense of her patience.
“You two assholes are so comfortable in silence. Wake up!” She propped herself back upright, “Aslock saved both mine and Valor’s lives using nothing but air. Cryos. He wrapped us in a shield that was so impenetrable that it withstood a cannon’s blast. I ask you two schizophrenics… how? How did this man turn out to be such a powerful asset?”
Orin let out a long exhale, returning from wherever he was to answer. “Aslock is an ancient being, so entranced with knowledge and inspired by ethereal forces that he has reached a level all his own. He is a monk that has found true enlightenment.”
“He calls himself a ‘Tesdian,’ bound with the soul of his long-time mentor, Soros,” Blague added.
“And now he has gained a pupil in you,” Orin smiled at Blague.
The Sin Leader furrowed his brow in confusion. “I never told you...”
Orin unraveled his hands from entwined cloths and reached back, pushing past a few layers of fabric to reveal a small reflective orb in his hand. It had a deep black center that faded toward the sphere’s surface.
“I keep in touch from time to time.” The corner of Orin’s lips pulled into a curl. “He is a fitting teacher, Blague. You will become great in his shadow,” he said, stuffing the orb back into its cove.
“I’m just going to ignore the oversized marble and focus on the ‘Tesdian’ bond,” Lesh said, starting to fidget from the absurdity of it all.
“Hah,” Orin hooted, “just a mere communication device developed by the Society. Though they will tell you it is much more, if you ask.”
“Tesdians are the most in tune with Cryos, and are the most capable of learning,” Blague said. “Their teacher-student relationship is amplified, from my understanding.”
Lesh continued to make mental notes. “Anything pressing, relevant? Can we wrap this up?” Her tolerance clearly wearing thin. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason,” Orin watched her curiously, her restlessness amusing him. He then turned to his son and gave a brief nod to do as she asked.
“There are more bonds: Ludian, a merger of lineage. Deresdian, a merger of friends. And one bond that seems to have the most tension surrounding it.”
Orin got up from his seated position, and the two others followed suit. “Exdians,” he said. “The merger of enemies. A great cancer of duality. I was present when the Neraphis conducted their experiment, and when my son conducted his. There is great unease surrounding that type of bond. The tension exists for a reason.”
Lesh unstuck the knife and shoved it back into her ring as if packing her things to leave. “That’s the Hiezers’ whole game. They hunt for ‘donors,’” she nearly spat. “Of course, none of whom are willing.”
“Precisely,” Blague said. “I brought up the same point to the Neraphis. They told me that insanity is what follows an Exdian merger, if the second consciousness is ever awakened.”
Orin lowered his head. “I fear there is more anguish to this bond than we know.”
“Does Mulderan know?” Blague asked.
“That man is oblivious to an entire side of this world, as you once were. He walks a dark path of his own manifestations. He cannot know. His rush for purpose would never allow him to.”
“I think I have more information than I need for one sitting,” Lesh announced before dismissing herself. “I’ll be mulling over all of this insanity for the last hour before we land.”
Blague nodded in agreement. It was a lot to consider after all… and he felt the same way, at first. How could he not?
Well, that’s it then. He turned and headed back to the cockpit.
His father laid a heavy hand on the back of Blague’s shoulder. “You are changing, I can sense it. Your curiosity is leading you astray,” he said discretely. “Careful, your war is far from over.”
Blague paused on his breakaway, halted by the troubling words.
“He’s right, Blague. Don’t waver on my account,” Elaina peeked through his thoughts. “We will explore this new life in a new age, but we ha
ve to get there first.”
Amber light blanketed the inside of a palatial Hiezer fortress, which was gaudy in its own right. Superfluous, yet so purposeful. The brilliance of the sun somehow couldn’t illuminate the room however, for the shadow cast by the Amaranthine Directive was that much more daunting.
Donors were marched in, one by one, with armored elites close to their sides – wardens escorting their prisoners – making it feel like a plank walk, a hanging maybe, or whatever terrible end that could be thought of.
To make matters worse, their bodies were well nourished. Pigs for slaughter, their skin glistened from pristine hygiene and careful pampering. It was a circus, a show for the onlookers, while underneath it all these sacrificial lambs shook.
Sniffles were stifled – they dare not act out, no, for their fate could be worse. Torturous, arduous. Mulderan was the Ripper’s son after all.
“Careful now, careful,” a scientist warned as one of the donors reached their designated station.
“Shut it, Git,” the accompanying elite spoke through his teeth as if scolding a bad dog.
Every face displayed its own version of horror, knowing full well where they were headed.
Then there were the vials of Ayelan – the holographic substance swishing around from being recently transported, now stacked and ready. Heavily guarded. Proper measures had to be taken to prevent any missteps, for this was Mulderan’s show, and it had to go on.
Finally, every piece of this grand puzzle was gathered into a single room, arranged to be locked into place – the human subjects, capsulized chemicals, and the Hiezers about to receive them were all stationed behind plated glass.
“What are we watching, Veer?” one highlord whispered to another.
“The price we pay,” Veer pursed his lips. “And it is a terrible one.”
Scientists tasked with carrying out Mulderan’s initiative rushed throughout the laboratory like mice scurrying from the resident cat, carefully fulfilling each step in the preservation process.
Hurried steps were short and thinly spaced for caution, but fast for fear of being out of sync. Click. One scientist inserted his key into a massive device, then a finger pressed against a scanner – two safeguards – before the extraction of his small dose of Ayelan was allotted.
Okay, next.
The scientist waddled across the vastly constructed space and into his transparent subdivision – four walls of transparent glass - where their assigned donor waited. First, he checked the contraptions bolted to the floor by shaking them.
“Clear.” He moved to the next. “Clear.” Then, as if the scientist had no soul at all, or lost it at some point perhaps – he checked the heartrate of the donor shaking in place. He shook her arm as a warning to be still, which prompted the accompanying elite to strike her spine with a baton.
Tears were knocked forward from her eyes. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling, but just drew blood instead. This was fear in its purest form. Every inhale was scattered with what sounded like a hundred gasps. She looked out to her audience.
“A zoo. This is a zoo,” her voice trembled, “and I’m to be the food for some grand beast. Is that it?”
“Quiet!”
Each subdivision held its own nightmare, soundproofed of course. A private area for each murder to take place.
Then, like clockwork, the victims were forced into their respective apparatus with limbs spread and clamped still so the scientists could work freely on their spines. The woman yelped when she saw the same thing happen to her fellow donors at the same time. Usually company was better, right? Well not here… not when dying at the hands of the Hiezers felt so blatantly like a ritualistic sacrifice, not when no matter how big or burly the other donors were, they were so easily overpowered and restrained.
No hope.
None.
The device adjacent to each victim looked much more comfortable however, one familiar to every highlord watching on. The recipient’s seat. Of course, it was like a luxury epidural station. How could it not be? This was where the chosen were to be granted longer lives. A memorial to immortality. Imagine feeling strength of youth flow through aging veins. Imagine brighter vision, mentally and otherwise. Of course you would forget the suffering of another. You would forget the cost. Wouldn’t you?
The recipient’s device was designed to lean their head and torso forward, exposing the curvature of the spine. The injection had to be precise. It was almost time…
Mulderan’s steps echoed in between groans of despair - a chorus to his ears. With the slightest nod he commanded that the doors be left open, to force the spectators to listen… so no one would forget the cost this time.
One large man called for his mother… another, his wife… another, “Death to the Hiezers!” So many varying pleas from a single emotion. The sounds rang throughout the Nepsys laboratory like church bells announcing mass, some pitches so bloodcurdling and foreign that audience members had to look away in horror. A disturbing finale to a miserable set of lives.
Where did they even come from, these pathetic souls?
Sins from all over the world. Wherever the rare DNA was most potent. Dragged from their homes and bagged for one purpose – to preserve the precious lives of the chosen.
Onlookers surrounded Mulderan. He eyed his specimens of the scarcest DNA type carefully. To be compatible with Ayelan was to be like an angel fallen from heaven to him… and such a gift had to be handled with utmost care. That is until the time was right. Until now.
“Begin,” Mulderan’s voice was cool and even.
An alarm blared to announce commencement, then he watched as lives were extracted, as they were encased within this enigmatic chemical that proved to be so difficult to collect. He could feel the vibrations of the shaking chairs, could see bulging neck veins, lifted chins, the foam and drool of those being drained. A cruel spectacle. A necessary one. This effort to capture the human ingredients and elusive substance was years in the making.
“I shake the world to rid it of the weak, so I can build anew with the strong,” he whispered to himself.
“A master tactician,” Mulderan raised his voice, gesturing to a seated woman behind paned glass as a ten-inch needle was carefully removed from her back. “An acclaimed doctor who developed cures for two fatal illnesses.” He again motioned while passing through the Nepsys laboratory’s forefront, witnessing the transference taking place at each subsection. “A scientist that aided in the creation of the Ayelan shot,” he presented a third seated candidate to the highlords and counsel trailing behind him. “All of their irises are ignited with the rare matter that works to immortalize us. All of them writhe in torment to gain lasting life.” He turned to face his audience. “Fellow highlords and counsel, before this day, humanity suffered a profound inefficiency. A great mind was left to wither, desperately searching for a suitable successor to carry on its work, to pass on its progress. That mind would have to waste its fading hours on teaching the basic rubrics that it mastered long ago.
“No more, ladies and gentlemen… no more. Now, at the completion of the Amaranthine Directive, progress will be carried on, distilled in the mind of its originator, not in some broken chain where the links decay too quickly. Now old age will not become a factor for hundreds of years. There will be no break in continuity. Think of it. Imagine it. Two-hundred-year-old masters of craft debating, bettering our hierarchy. Breathe it. We will attain our vision amidst this crumbling world. We will rise above it,” he gestured with open arms, displaying the magnificence of this accomplishment. “Welcome your brothers and sisters as you’ve been welcomed by me. Welcome them to the beginnings of immortality.”
Mulderan raised his chin as to let a sea of Hiezer salutes wash over him, and then shortly after passed a glance to the Ice Queen standing tall closely beside him. They briefly exchanged a look, one of shared secret, one that she now appeared accepting of. All was falling into place.
“Don’t shy away from the scr
eams. Embrace them. Our future depends on it!” The coldness of the Highest Lord’s words was amplified by the lack of empathy in his voice. “You are the leaders of this New World. Guide the recipients through their longevity, help them understand their purpose. We are the worthy, don’t ever forget it,” Mulderan concluded, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
The audience broke away to peruse the laboratory, all except for Veer. The highlord of Old Middle Eastern descent was distinguishable by his cloak. It was weaved to only cover half of his body, and to expose his bare arm adorned with a golden metal clasp vining down it, stopping at his elbow. He approached the speaker with a calm embrace. A gentle cat among lions.
“Entertain me, Mulderan,” Veer said, smoothly guiding the Highest Lord’s shoulder to turn so they could walk in private. “Your wife was right for never doubting your beliefs when you were held captive. You’ve led us to prosperity while on a dying planet. Only the boldest of us could have accomplished such a task.”
Mulderan raised a sardonic eyebrow, compelling Veer to cease the flattery.
“But,” Veer continued, “the risks you take are not without consequence - a certain stir of unrest. The others buzz about Alek’s departure. You should have detained him, Mulderan. We aren’t savages,” he said in a tone soft enough not to offend.
Mulderan’s expression was unchanging; he walked with his head held high and considered Veer’s words. “If we’re to progress, if the Hiezers are to become the world’s next stage in evolution, we are heavily reliant on the world’s scarce supply of Ayelan. Alek chose to abandon those values out of fear. He was not fit to reside among us.”
Veer’s dark eyes scanned Mulderan’s face before responding. “We’ve carefully built this hierarchy over many years. We preserved life sparingly and after much consideration.” His gestures were submissive, yet forward. “But now look, track the chain of events in the past months. Actions are becoming more impulsive and less contemplative.”
Mulderan halted his step immediately and turned to face the critic. “You confuse rashness with acceleration. Don’t. It’s not befitting of you. The state of the world begs for our evolution. There is no longer time to test and linger, Veer.”