by Marc Mulero
After turning to the guard and acknowledging the news, Milos made his way outside. They stepped into the most scenic part of their home, outside the rear of the mansion. Tall mountains sat to their left. A jumbled rock path rested to their right. Both of which framed the beach leading into the ocean. The environment would be innocent but for the blood that had been spilled and the concrete used to fill in the earth’s cracks. But none of this was in focus, for their leader had returned.
A single jet blew steam outward as it cooled, briefly making Blague and his band of Neraphis look like they’d emerged out of thin air.
Milos squinted to make out the strange companions. He’d only heard rumors about them, ancient people dressed in all black, but it was all hearsay, buzzes within the mansion. In truth they sounded more like a tall tale than a reality. There was an oddness about them, though - the way they stood perhaps, spoke, things that brought this tale to life.
It wasn’t only the cloaks that wrapped their bodies, making them dark as night, nor was it the silver lining that called attention to their existence. The two who were unhooded had a peculiar youthfulness to them. Their skin was ageless like a precious stone, yet their demeanor is where experience was worn. They reminded him of Blague: old men trapped in younger bodies.
Although still far off, Milos could almost make out what the tall, shrouded figure was saying. Everyone was facing the one with the gigantic sword plastered to his back. “So this is the mountain where your father first told you about duality. I see. It brings me dread to know that his presence is no longer with us. Well, I can say this - Orin’s sacrifice was not in vain. Our coming together is proof of that,” the man said solemnly. “Although we were often at odds, he was my most talented adept.”
Aslock coughed loudly. “Soros takes offense to that.”
Everyone chuckled, breaking the grim atmosphere for a moment. With a lingering smirk, Aslock nodded for Blague to turn around, and so he did.
Milos saw a different man return home to him. Pain of nearly a hundred years weighed heavy around his eyes. Dark half-moons traced them, redness draining from vibrant green marbles to make them dull and toneless. There was sorrow, death, and loss written everywhere, masked with confidence. Milos could see all of this in an instant… before those tired eyes found the Mentis Shade.
“How you’ve convinced broken families to let you out of your cage, I can’t begin to contemplate,” Blague said to the slender man walking toward him. “But you’ve accomplished an incredible feat, and are on your way to earning the forgiveness of the Sins.” He held out a hand for a truce as the madman approached.
Dendrid’s eyes turned bloodshot, his mouth ran dry, and his ears rang. Whatever chance at redemption, positivity – all of it… it was gone. Vanished. Now he was tossed back into the sad parts of his childhood. Thrown from the horns of a two-ton bull. Acceptance? Hah. Redemption. No, no. The shadows were here now, and they had to pay.
It can’t be… Dendrid reeled back from a horrible occurrence. Are they really here, or is this a figment of the mind? My mother showed me this… them, before I burned her to ashes. They were the cause. They were the ones who made her ill.
Dendrid’s head jerked forward and his neck tensed, as if an invisible entity was choking him.
She said it would get worse. She said the sickness would take over and that we would have to make a choice, my brother and I. She said that either we would die, or our parents would. She said that the sickness would take over… and it did. It was either them, or me. And now, I’m face to face with the cause.
Blague’s words were drowned out by a sharp ringing in Dendrid’s ears, until finally, he snapped.
After a mere second of confusion, Halewyn and Aslock realized what was about to take place, but it was already too late.
Dendrid reached his arm slowly back to grip his blades, dead eyes glued to his mortal enemies, and that was the last still image anyone caught of him before he disappeared into a blur. When he dashed, it was clear that he possessed speed of no equal, bolting past Blague, stopping at the first hooded Neraphis he saw.
Shink. Metal clanged and then whipped as he spun into a fan of deadly edges. It was a mere instant, a fraction of a second, as he painted the man’s cloak an even darker shade from stains of gore.
Horrified, Milos was frozen in his tracks. His mother, Felik, Lito, Oosnie. Life had betrayed the boy once more. His mouth hung open in disbelief.
The Sin Leader reached for his blade when hearing the gurgling groan coming from the adept behind him. Too slow. Everything was too slow. Halewyn was furious in the microseconds he had to react, and used every instant to connect with Aslock, to signal him. But the nightmare of it was that all parties were suddenly stuck in a cage where time seemed to speed up for the predator dropped in there with them.
The killer released a harrowing scream while pushing off the ball of his foot, arching his back and spinning into a whirlwind of chaos to cut down the next cloaked Neraphis across from him. Neither of his victims stood a chance. Being blindsided by the fastest person on the planet awarded them only death.
Aslock’s fists shook with power. He held them in an X below his chin and then released his arms outward, dropping to a knee with blue streaks of Cryos trailing his gloved hands as he swung toward the floor.
All of the noise that left Dendrid was bloodcurdling, strangled, like a man who was being squeezed to death and on his last pockets of air. Now, his crazed eyes were on Halewyn. The gap was closing too fast, but the Eldest didn’t falter. As the curved blade rose, ready to carve down centuries of knowledge, Dendrid’s shoulder swiftly bashed into an ethereal barrier. Once the momentum had betrayed him, his head then slammed onto the back end of Aslock’s conjured prison.
He rose almost immediately in a daze, face made of stone, jaw clenched, and a pair of reddened eyes tethered to Halewyn’s. His entire body pulsed with every heartbeat. How could he have failed to take revenge? Him! The Mentis Shade.
In a silent rage, he swung at the Cryos obstruction to feel nothing but deflection. His blades were now useless. He was useless.
Halewyn had already moved on, knowing what Dendrid was just discovering. They were safe now. It was time to grieve. His expression of revulsion blended into grief upon seeing one of his fallen. A wave of his hand flapped the Neraphis’ cloak open, where he then pulled his unique orb from a pool of blood. Just staring at it appeared painful, and when it disintegrated within his palm, he dipped his head in sorrow.
With boiling blood fueling his rage, Blague circled the Cryos prison to find Dendrid’s gaze. “Why!” He stalked. “After all of the death you’ve caused us, we accepted your plea!”
Wham.
He slammed the Cryos cage to startle Dendrid, changing its shade from blue to white. “Tell me why, after you were winning us over, would you turn again? Huh? Why?” He shook his head in frustration. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? Now I see… the Hiezers kept you deep underground for all of those years because you are only mad. No consistency, no reasoning. Just madness!”
Blague filled Dendrid’s field of vision, but the killer wasn’t interested. He only moved to try and focus on the “shadows” who were still alive.
“I can explain,” Aslock said solemnly, his hands blazing with Cryos while holding the conjured walls in place. “This is the son of Elinor Elsan, who was the first Exdian I spoke to you about in your initial visit to the Citadel. It took Halewyn and myself too long to recognize his aged face, for we lost track of him for two decades,” he said regrettably. “But it seems the outside world has not.”
Blague turned to face Aslock. “You said she went mad…”
“Marrying the genes of two enemies, and awakening duality,” the Elder paced around, looking to Dendrid, then back at Blague. “Only one result can come of it… insanity. Irreparable, conflicting irrationality. Elinor suffered in her days at the Citadel and her days out.”
Blague shook his head and stared at the fresh corpses on
the rocky floor. “Dendrid is one of the most infamous murderers of this generation. How could you have lost track of him?”
Aslock dipped his head in regret. “It is true, we should have pieced the puzzle together sooner. Dendrid was the name of this man’s brother, before he carved his eyes out and left him to burn. That was a name that faded with the boy’s ashes long ago.”
“So sure of your stories,” Dendrid’s voice scratched through the air while he impatiently waited for the Neraphis to let down his guard.
“Elinor despised us after her volunteered experiment went awry. She swore that if the madness came back, if her enemy’s soul continued to haunt her, she would hunt us down,” Aslock recalled from many years prior. “Now, this is how she attacks us. From beyond the grave.” He motioned to the killer.
“This is like the island of Vicissitude, isn’t it?” Blague asked rhetorically.
“How so?”
“You’ve abandoned it. You stopped testing Exdian Ayelan shots after the uncertainty became too great, and the risk, too deadly.”
Aslock confirmed.
Halewyn rose back to his feet after saying his piece to the fallen Neraphis. “We value morality, Blague. But that does not stop others who have abandoned such a virtue. For them, the experiments never stop.” His eyes began to faintly glow. “The Hiezers know only of the Exdian bond, which is a natural outcome of taking prisoners and stealing their life-force from them.”
“But that’s only one part of it. They aren’t awakened to duality…” Blague replied.
The Eldest mournfully marched over to share the up-close view of the Mentis Shade. “That is true. If never awakened, Exdian duality would likely never manifest and claim the sanity of the primary. However,” he gestured to Dendrid, “the two incompatible streams of DNA harbored within the parent flow into their offspring. The children never have the opportunity of denying that enemy conflict. It starts at birth. It is who they are.”
“That doesn’t add up,” Blague retorted. “If a woman is raped and bears a child, that child is the product of enemies. But that doesn’t mean the child will grow up to be deranged, regardless of the false start. How can the same not be true in these cases?”
“Recall, Blague, that Ayelan encases the essence of another. Their consciousness exists in the primary whether it is awakened to fruition or not. If the relationship is born of conflict, it will remain that way through reproduction. Natural birth from two single-consciousnesses generally does not suffer from such extremes. But, add a third encased in Ayelan, and it is a recipe for disaster.”
Aslock put a hand on Blague’s shoulder and said, “The results are one hundred percent, so far. Elinor’s children, the descendants of the Hiezer highlords. All of them have the same mental disorder: psychosis.”
In the background, Milos listened on, trying to follow what everyone was saying about the man he thought was his new ally. But it was too hard to keep up, even for a youngster as keen as he. Duality, Exdian, genetics, too many new terms to follow this train of conversation.
Blague looked up to the sky, thinking intently about what was just revealed to him. “My brother started the beginning of the end. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Not yet,” Aslock replied. “We have kept tabs on all known highlords that have received Ayelan. We know the recipients and their offspring.”
The Sin Leader turned to his Elder with skepticism. “Then what are you suggesting?”
Aslock raised his hand to diffuse Blague’s implication. “We are not in the business of genocide. We could never suggest outright murder. It is not the way of the Neraphis.”
“You are at war, shadow! You murder as I murder. You just need steps to rationalize your reasoning. I’m well passed that.” Dendrid pointed his sloped blade at Aslock’s neck, separated by the thin blue barrier. “Severing your head will be payment for my mother’s sickness that you inflicted.”
“There is so much you do not understand, youth. History, for one… your mother’s.” And with that, the Elder raised his hand to align it with Dendrid’s face, which was contorting in rage from the audacity of a shadow acknowledging his mother. But before the killer could claw again to get out, Aslock closed his fist. The Cryos prison collapsed onto the Mentis Shade and instantly knocked him unconscious. He then took a step forward and caught the body before it could hit the ground.
“The Hiezers have barricaded themselves inside Nepsys. If they ever moved on and began to reproduce, the human race would slowly implode on itself,” Blague thought aloud.
Aslock changed his tone to pose a different question. “Who is to say that it is not us who are mad? We speak to ourselves and hear uncontrolled voices speak back. We should be careful not to let our thoughts devolve into extremes.”
Blague tensed his jaw while pointing at Dendrid. “If this is the result of an enemy bond, we are doomed, Aslock!”
“There are many things to ponder. This information is new to you. Help me load these bodies and use this time to reflect on the difficulties ahead.”
A shell-shocked Milos watched on as the stench of fresh blood filled his lungs. Nothing made sense. Every time confidence built up, it was just as quickly knocked back down again.
His leader was supposed to have all of the answers. He didn’t.
His new ally was supposed to be turning over a new leaf. Nope. The families of his victims were right.
He was failing on every account. He needed a guide. The world was too complex to stumble through it alone. But Lesh still wasn’t there…
And so he turned away, no longer able to greet Blague, not after leaving another mess at his doorstep.
What else was there to do after this humbling slap in the face but to retreat into Cherris’ huddled wagon, and beg for the forgiveness of a friend.
Sabin dusted the dirt from his torn half-cloak, then looked to his fingers to see a mix of blood and soot. His gear was streaked with more of the same.
“Ugh.”
He may have left for the mission with freshly washed forest green gear, but returned with muddy brown. It drained him just seeing it again, as it was a nasty reminder of just an hour prior. Was it his blood or theirs? Who knew, but one thing was for sure, even though the invasions were long, trying, in more ways than one, things were starting to work out.
Hiezers in charge of Quarantine sectors were falling quicker than rain. It was because the Rogues were tactical, deadly… true. Electricity-infused weapons surely did their part in giving them a swift edge in this war. But it was the turncoat that kept them breathing. Marks were on point: when enemy troops were peeled off from one station and on to their next, the remaining squad was ambushed on cue, again and again. And thanks to that, the Dactuar Estates were no longer prisons of the New World. They were havens.
Cavern doors steamed shut behind the returning Rogues with the hunter at their core. The Centric Crater that was once plagued by fear now boomed with life. Volt Units and soldiers alike began to pass by Sabin. Hands clapped his shoulders with approval. Nods were passed. Status was developing, and he was grateful to have help. The burden of leadership was not without its rewards.
Blague was right, that bastard. I would punch him again if I could for sending me off like this. But he was right. Sins and Rogue’s working together, pfah, I never would’ve dreamt it. Now I see, you old shit… this is the best path. But you have to see too. It doesn’t matter how many friends I make here, the Sins are my only family.
Crazy to think that only days from now we will reunite to knock on the grand gates together. All I can say is… she better be with him.
Mars lifted onto his hind legs, stretching to the height of his master’s chest for a treat. The wolf barked with satisfaction. Sabin smiled, agreeing with his companion’s contentment.
“The turncoat is doing his part to aid in our success,” Coe said, running a hand through his lopped blond hair to rid it of dirt.
“Take what we can get, Coe-zy.” Sabin
laughed, still finding his own jokes as humorous as ever.
The overseer rolled his eyes. “Please, stop calling me that.”
Humbled Dactuars were guided through the Rogue lair, most wrapped in blankets to subdue their shivering.
“We’re outgrowing this place. Soon there will be more Dactuars than Templos,” Coe said quietly.
“This is a good sign. Don’t fear change, my friend. I’ve seen it happen before with the Sins. More will flock to us, to our cause. Everyone needs someone to hate right now, and the Hiezers are painting themselves as one big fat target.”
“You’re speaking like a true politician, Sabin. Sure, those words may comfort others, but we are hunters. Our hearts rule us, and they are singing a different tune. I know you feel it same as me. My instincts are on high alert, and they’re telling me that something is terribly wrong. The Hiezer elites have abandoned all of what they’ve built. What we’re facing are simple soldiers dressed in elite armor. We’re being played.”
“Don’t read into it so much. Stay the course. We’re finally rebuilding after that Quake and gaining ground. I agree that Quarantine is just a means to silence us while a larger plan is at work. The traitor is the key. On his mark, we will storm the Grand City and uncover all of these veils. We will take our world back.”
The crowd had finally passed them up.
“Get some rest, friend. You’ve earned it. Today I’m feeling proud to be called a Rogue,” Sabin commended.
“You are your father’s son. The new overlord of the Rogues,” Coe proclaimed.
Sabin disagreed. “Just a temp filling in, so keep your voice down, will ya?”
“No, you were born for this. You will lead us to our next march. To Nepsys,” the overseer assured, patting his metallic sleeve on Sabin’s shoulder.
He winced from the weight of the hunk of metal, nodding to his friend to say “Thanks and get off of me” at the same time.