Paradise Forgotten Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  Silver closes his eyes. "Now, Troy. Do it."

  "Not until you're safe somewhere."

  "I said now!"

  Troy pulls off his gauntlets and reaches up to his ears. He pinches the lead studs between his fingers and takes a deep breath. This is it. Whatever happens now is in the hands of the nanobots. With one quick, forceful pull, Troy rips the lead studs from his cartilage and screams from the pain. There is a flash of bright white light then darkness, emptiness, nothingness.

  * * *

  "What should we do with him?"

  "I think he is strong enough to control us."

  "But will he be able to use us properly instead of what that demon man-child has been doing? Paris overlooked one key component about his plan. If he destroys everything, we will not have a host body anymore. Then we really will not get any work done. He believes that we will be able to work on our own, but that is simply not the case, as you all know."

  "But this one's body is weak."

  "He has been strong before and with some work, he can be strong again. Do not rule him out because of that."

  "He will not listen to us, though."

  "Do we need him to obey our every whim? Were you not the one who wanted to revert back to our basic form? All it would take is for our host to interface with a computer and store us properly. Then we will reside there securely until we are needed once more. I think humans and Nymphs can get along well enough without us."

  "He is right. We have caused enough trouble. However, Troy needs us now. We cannot leave yet."

  "Then we will take a vote. Either we remain dormant here and let him put us away eventually, or we help the poor man and end this the right way."

  "That way, we can get all our brothers out of Blice as well."

  "So, I put it to a vote."

  * * *

  Coughing violently and spitting out sand, Troy rolls over and stares up at the sun. What just happened? He gasps for air as his head is spinning. His arms and legs feel like jelly and his eyes burn intensely. Looking directly at the sun probably isn't helping that. When he finally manages to sit up, he gasps at the sight that is spread out around him.

  Deep purple dark matter clings to nearly every surface. The walls of the arena, the gates, and half of the stands are all covered in the glittering mess. When he stands, he notices the large gaping hole at least ten feet wide that stretches down into the ground, so deep that he can't see the bottom. People are screaming and running to help their injured or dead loved ones. Sirens sound in the distance. Paris's guards spill from the side gates and attempt to control the frantic masses.

  Did he do this?

  Silver's yelling brings Troy back to the present and dangerous situation they are still in. Then he remembers. Gabriel.

  Silver picks up a broken piece of twisted metal and swings it at the water-filled cage. The glass shatters, sending a wave of water gushing forward and spilling over the edges of the gaping hole in the ground. He grabs onto Gabriel and shakes him. He breaks the shackles then lays Gabriel down on the muddy ground. "Gabriel, we need you. Don't leave us. Troy, get the button!"

  "No!" Paris reaches up weakly from where he is lying on the ground in a pool of blood, his hand pressed firmly to his stomach. He stands and wipes the dark crimson from his mouth. "Don't do it. It's too late. Gabriel is dead."

  "No, he's not." Troy scoops up the button and tosses it to Silver. "Do it quickly!"

  Silver presses the button into Gabriel's hand. "Gabriel, if you can hear me, press the button. Do whatever you have to do in order to make it work. We're counting on you, buddy."

  "No! What did you do? My archons!"

  Suddenly, the archons begin falling from the sky, plummeting to the ground in lifeless heaps of metal. From outside the coliseum walls, people scream and cars blare their horns as the archons crash through buildings and litter the streets with debris. The screens at the end of the arena tell it all. Fires flare up and people are dying in masses.

  Troy runs to Gabriel and rolls him over on his back. "Gabriel . . ."

  "He's dead, just like the other archons. Don't waste your energy. It's over. It's all over now."

  "It's not over!" Paris stomps his foot like a child throwing a fit. The blood continues to soak through his black tunic and onto his pants from his wound. "This is my game! You ruined it. You ruined everything. I hate all of you."

  "What's the matter, Paris?" Silver mocks him. "Didn't you ever learn to take turns? Did we not play by the rules? Did we steal your lunch money and shove you in a locker? What are you gonna do about it?"

  Paris screams and kicks sand at them. "You're a bully, Silver! This was my chance to be the awesome villain, but you just couldn't let me have this. I never get anything I want. It's not fair!"

  "Poor baby. You're a selfish spoiled brat who needs a good whipping. That's what you need."

  "Shut up, shut up! Guess what? If you can change the rules, then I can too. You both face my champion now!"

  17

  The guards lead a very ragged-looking Blice out of the side gate and remove the handcuffs from his wrists. Blice howls a primal scream from behind his matted black hair. His eyes are red and mud is streaked across his face. He lunges at the guards who have to shock him with cattle prods to keep him from hurting them. Blice's hands flare up with the shimmering purple of his dark matter. He locks eyes with Troy.

  Troy takes a few steps backwards. "Blice? It's me! It's Troy."

  "He can't think straight right now. They've pumped him full of drugs. He's hallucinating. While he's like this, he will attack anyone. There's no dealing with him." Silver holds up his combat knife. "Let's do this quickly. I don't want to drag this out and make him suffer more than necessary."

  "Ah!" Troy jumps out of the way to avoid a ball of dark matter. "Blice, stop! I don't want to hurt you. Let us help you."

  Blice races at Silver and shoots a bolt of nanobots, barely missing his shoulder. Silver slices at him, but gets knocked down.

  "Get back!" Troy swipes his palm over the control panel on the arm of his power armor. The screen lights up as the nanobots flow through his body and into the armor. He holds out his hands and unleashes a powerful bolt of dark matter.

  Blice spreads a membrane of dark matter between his hands, blocking the hoard of nanobots.

  Silver picks himself up and rubs his leg. "Damn it. He's too strong."

  Troy holds up his hand, summoning a shield of nanobots just in time to send the bolt from Blice ricocheting across the arena. He has to stop and catch his breath. This is taking a lot more out of him than it used to. At least now the nanobots make using this armor easier. It's a lot less heavy than when he was using it on his own. "Just stay out of the way and let me handle this. You'll only get in the way. You're too vulnerable without any armor."

  "I can do plenty, thank you."

  "Damn it, Silver." Troy shoots out another ball of dark matter at Blice. "This isn't the time for you to play hero."

  "Oh, honey. I'm the real hero here. You just don't know it yet."

  Troy slashes at Blice and misses. "Honey? I'm not your honey."

  Silver rolls behind Blice and stabs him in the spine with his combat knife. "You . . . fight like you could be." He forces Blice to the ground and straddles him. "I'm sorry, Blice."

  Troy drops to his knees as the exhaustion hits him hard. Blice's blood soaks into the sand and spreads around him. It had to end this way. He watches as Silver slits his friend's throat and stands. There's a unique solidarity in those hazel eyes as he takes a life, just one more added to a long list of death.

  Silver wipes the sweat from his eyes on the back of his arm and looks around. "Where's Paris?"

  They both look over to where the pained whimpering comes from. Paris is on his stomach, dragging himself towards the gate with one arm as the other is clutching his wound, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

  He must have noticed they are watching him because he tries to stand, but he loses h
is balance. Paris's face turns pale as he coughs, sending a trickle of dark blood down his chin. He stumbles backwards until he hits the wall of the arena. "Please, don't . . . kill me. I can fix this."

  "No. You have done far too much damage to ever be fixed." Silver wipes Blice's blood from his combat knife and presses it against Paris's throat as he holds him there against the wall. "It's over, Paris."

  Paris looks weak and small compared to Silver. His thin body is trembling as the spark begins to fade from his eyes. "No. It can't . . . be. I have to end it all. Nymphs and humans . . . must . . . be erased."

  "Not today. Don't you see the truth behind everything? We don't have to die to make the universe perfect. Our imperfections make it uniquely ours. Sure, we will never attain balance, but we can live and make the best of it. We weren't put here to destroy this place. The universe was a gift to us all. Who are we to judge it as being not good enough? If God wanted it to be perfect, he would have made it that way to begin with."

  "I just wanted to find happiness."

  "You had that!" Silver grabs Paris's face in his hand. "You had that, Paris. You had everything. Don't you remember all those days we had together? We would play games and sing songs. We baked cookies and lied out in the desert at night to watch the stars. You were so happy back then. I tried to do my best for you. I loved you, Paris. You were my son and I would have given my life to see you smile. You had love, but you threw it away in exchange for power and hatred. Open your eyes. See the world for what it is, not what Uriel and Hector tried to paint it as. You are intelligent enough to see for yourself. Don't let their actions and beliefs cloud your mind anymore. Please. I don't want you to die in this state. I want you to go on to a happy life from here, far away from this pain. Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself. God can forgive you. He will forgive everything. I'm begging you."

  Paris's voice is weak and airy as he gasps for air. "God . . . doesn't want me."

  "That's not true. That's not true, Paris. Don't you remember me reading to you from that old Bible? You used to love that."

  "I don't deserve . . . salvation."

  "No one does, but it's a gift. Accept that gift."

  "Never." Paris's body goes limp as he collapses into Silver's arms.

  "Paris?" Silver lays him down on the ground and gently closes his eyes. "God, please guide his soul. He doesn't understand. He doesn't know. I tried. You know I tried."

  Troy removes his cuirass then slips his t-shirt off. He goes over to them and kneels down beside Silver where drapes his shirt over Paris's face. "I'm so sorry, Silver."

  He shakes his head and kisses Paris's hand. "It's not your fault. We did all we could. It wasn't enough. In the end, nothing was enough to save a tortured soul who lost his way."

  Troy hears something. He stands up and turns around to see all the remaining guards lay down their weapons and kneel before him.

  One of the guards holds up his hand. "We are with you, Phoenix King. Please forgive us for siding against you. If you will have us, we can help you with everything. We want nothing more than to be your personal guard."

  "One question first. Where is Nova Cunningham?"

  "I will lead you to her, Sire."

  Troy nervously follows the guard through the palace. His mind is racing as he walks down the empty halls that are now his. That's right. With Paris gone, there's no one left to keep him from the power that is rightfully his. The Nymph royal family will reign again and will continue to rule this planet and the galaxy for as long as Troy has a say in the matter. No, as long as he is breathing. He will fight to keep this until his dying breath. No one will ever take this away from him and his future heirs again. He will keep the bloodline pure, well . . . as pure as it can be between him and an impure Nymph-human hybrid like Nova. That doesn't matter, though. He loves her and there isn't anyone else he would choose to be his queen. That is . . . if she is alive.

  The guard stops at a door at the end of the hallway and bows. "Right inside, Sire. I'm not proud of being a part of this."

  "I know."

  "I will understand if you decide to punish us. We deserve death, Your Majesty."

  "That will be my decision to make in the days to come. For now, go into the city and help to calm the commotion. After that is done, retire to the barracks and await my decision."

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  Troy steadies himself as he listens to the guard's footsteps echo in the hallway. There are too many things to do, but he has to tend to this first. In this room is the thing he has been fighting for, what so many people gave their lives for. Now to find out if it was all worth it. He opens the door.

  The four-poster bed is lined with black silk and cables attached to monitors that make beeping noises and hum their electronic cadence in the otherwise silent room. No paintings line the wall and only the bare essentials are here. This isn't a bedroom. It's a coffin. Troy's stomach turns when he sees the rows of bloody instruments lined up on a side table. So this is where they've been doing this to her.

  He slowly makes his way to the bed and reaches out to touch the unmoving form below the blankets. There is a slight breathing. "Nova!" Troy takes her pale hand that has slipped out of the blankets. "Nova."

  Silver silently appears and leans in the doorway as he cleans off his combat knife. "She can't answer you, Troy. We'll get her to the hospital and let them see what they can do."

  "I'm not leaving her."

  "You have other things to tend to. Like you said, this country needs its king."

  "But-"

  "Stop it." Silver comes up to him and takes his arm. "You shutting everything out and worrying over her until she has recovered isn't going to accomplish anything. Let the experts do what they do best and she will be fine. You have to have faith."

  "Easy for you to say."

  "Easy? No. Faith is never easy. The easy thing is to give up or to wallow in your own self-hatred. Pulling yourself out of the darkness is the true part of being a man. I've had more than my share of darkness. That's the only way I've been able to find my faith and keep it. You go through trials and hardship that should destroy you, but you discover a stronger part of yourself. You nurture that part and strip away the unnecessary pride. Under that, you find the only thing you need to keep going. You find faith."

  * * *

  The rain has tapered off enough from the morning showers for Troy to venture from his empty room in the palace. Everything has been hauntingly quiet since his coronation two days ago. There was no fanfare, no feasts or celebrations. There were no crowds of cheering people or parades. In their places, were funerals. Troy's first act as king was to attend funerals for all the people he lost in the past six and a half years.

  Nearly every human and Nymph was in attendance, filling the streets with rivers of black cloth and white lilies. It took the entire two days to finish all the funerals. Troy has never felt so emotionally exhausted in his life. After the first six or so, he couldn't cry anymore. The people all held different importance to him, but he spared no expense to give them the burial they each deserved.

  Hector even showed up, though that was primarily to remind Troy of the contract he signed. What did Hector do to help? There's no way to know for sure and Troy doubts he will ever find out. However, having children is the farthest thing from his mind at this point. He is focusing instead on preserving what little composure he has left so he can work on fixing this kingdom.

  Troy holds his black wool coat tightly around himself as he makes his way through the rain-slicked streets where only the occasional vehicle or pedestrian passes by. There are only a couple of hours left before nightfall, but he has to go check on a friend. He goes past the city gates and out into the barren field where brightly-colored tulips will bloom in the spring. Thousands will replace the brown dead grass with their fresh green leaves and delicate sweet fragrance. If the fabled Elysian Fields are a real place, they would certainly be like this far-stretching tulip field. Troy can't think of a
better place for his soul to rest one day.

  That's why Silver is out here now, kneeling in front of a freshly-dug grave. His slacks are covered in the dark mud and the rain has soaked through his suit jacket. Troy can smell the whisky from here. Oh, Silver . . .

  He walks up behind Silver and puts his hand on his shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

  Silver stands and brushes some of the mud from his pants. "I need a drink. Will you come with me to make sure I don't drink too much?"

  "You shouldn't be drinking at all."

  "Please don't do this now. I'm having a hard enough time as it is."

  "I know, but this isn't going to help in the long run. You have to learn to be strong without the alcohol. Think about my offer I gave you yesterday. There is a wonderful clinic for rehabilitation in town that has been developing all sorts of ways to help people like you. Don't do this for me. Do it for Nova. She has a long recovery ahead of her and she will need her father by her side to help her. You want to be there for your daughter, don't you?"

  "Of course I do. How is she doing?"

  "I had a plastic surgeon meet with her last night. He told me that she can go through a series of surgeries over the next year or so. She will be back to the way she was before all of this. She will be beautiful."

  "Then what?"

  "I will marry her and make her my beautiful queen. She needs you, Silver. And I . . . I need you too. I will need someone to guide me in my decisions, someone with more experience than I have. I want you to be my royal advisor and right-hand man. You'll be living in the palace so you can stay close to Nova at all times. I know it's not your usual line of work, but I can pay you however much you need. I really just want you around."

  Silver sighs as he looks at the three graves in front of him. "Give me one week. Let me try to cope with things in the only way I know how. One week from today, I swear I will go to rehab. I'll get help. You're right. I can't keep living like this. I'm falling apart, but I don't know what to do in order to get better. I don't want to end up like my grandfather."