Continuum

by Susan Wu

  Fyro.

  I look around, I am sitting inside a similar oval room as the one in Zefa's ship. Except this one is much smaller and designed more as a cell. The stark white walls are bare except for a lone black screen next to the door, no windows or control panels to open the door. The small bed is built into the curve of the wall and directly across from it is a toilet and shower. No privacy barriers for either one.

  My eyes travel back to the black screen as it flickers on. An unknown male appears on the screen. His mismatched stare--one gray eye, one blue eye--is cold and calculating. His high cheekbones are framed by long, dark waves parted precisely down the center. He would be handsome except for the flatness of his eyes and the cruel curve of his lips. “Good, I see you have finally regained consciousness. How are you feeling my dear half-cousin? I was afraid I had fried you.”

  Even the sound of his voice is chilling or maybe it’s because my body knows what he’s capable of. An involuntary shiver travels down my body, but I steel my voice before replying.

  “Hmm, you might want to work on your lying. That was a pretty weak attempt. I hope you didn’t have to use too much juice. My mind must have been stronger than you anticipated.”

  He snarls, “I would not anger someone like me if I were in your position. We will be landing in a few minutes. I suggest you brace yourself. My brother wants you unharmed. For now.” The screen goes black and I collapse back down on the bed, unable to hold myself up any longer.

  After we dock, I am taken off the ship by a group of four guards. Two of the guards flank me, holding me up by gripping my tender upper arms with unnecessary roughness. My legs are still weak so they have to half carry, half drag me around. Another guard leads the group down a series of hallways and last one follows the group. He’s pressing what feels like the barrel of a gun against my spine. I’m not sure what all the fuss is about since I can barely hold myself up. They take me up several flights of stairs and another series of hallways before depositing me into an empty room.

  The door slides close with a quiet hiss as they move to guard the exit. This room designed to be an office. The design aesthetic seems to favor curved rather than flat surfaces. The curved walls are completely seamless and made out of a matte industrial steel. Round skylights stream light into the room, its rays bouncing off the walls.

  My distorted reflection is staring back at me from the wall, the floor, and the ceiling. A large semi-circle white couch is nestled in the corner against the curve of wall. An expansive, bean shaped desk sits in the center of the room. The desk is made out of a clear lucite which gives the illusion that the round black screen on the desk is floating. A large white enamel armchair with bright red cushions is set behind the desk with two smaller white chairs in front of it. Hanging from the 15 foot ceiling above the desk, is an enormous chandelier decorated with clear black crystal spikes. My legs buckle as I plop myself down onto one of the smaller white chairs at the desk, my back turned to the door.

  I don't turn around when the door slides open and closes with a hiss. I grip the arms on the chair but hold my body as still as possible with my muscles still trembling from the pain of Fryo’s assault. All my senses are on high alert. There is a momentary pause followed by the soft click of shoes against the pure white marble floor. I stifle a gasp of recognition as he comes into view. I know him because I have dreamt of him and his cold gray eyes. His eyes are as flat and cold as the steel walls of the room as they assess me.

  He walks with sure, confident strides around the desk sitting down in the red chair. He leans back in the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee and resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, fingertips pressed together in front of his mouth. I try to find my father’s likeness in his features but find none. I wonder how much he looks like my aunt.

  His black hair is perfectly slicked back, not a strand out of place. He has a handsome, almost regal face with sharp cheekbones and a square jaw. He is dressed in a pristinely tailored navy suit with a crisply pressed, light blue shirt. His appearance is more businessman than warlord except for his nose. It has been broken at least twice adding character to an otherwise refined face. He says nothing as settles in his chair.

  His lips form a thin smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His voice is even colder than his eyes, devoid of emotion, “My name is Epir, son of Asila. It is good to finally meet you, cousin. I have waited long for this moment.”

  I keep my tone equally even and detached, “I can't say the feeling is mutual considering the circumstances under which your brother brought me here.”

  Epir eyes my bloodied, ruined shirt and rubs his chin with his left hand, “I apologize for my brother's rude behavior. I asked him to try his hardest to be gentle with you.”

  “You asked him politely instead of giving an order? I thought you were supposed to be a great military leader. Oh no, wait, I’m thinking of your father. You sent an animal to capture me, what did you expect to happen?” Even I’m surprised by my outburst.

  He studies me inquisitively, “You know how wild animals are. You can chain them up and you can discipline them. But they will always lack a certain degree of control.”

  “Can we just skip all the small talk and niceties and get straight to the point? My father is not going to give you what you want.”

  His mood shifts instantly and his gray eyes darken, his voice becoming deadly, “You really are Izic's daughter, aren't you? Is that any way to speak to your elder? Where's your sense of respect?”

  This is someone who will kill without the slightest provocation. I should be afraid, but I feel oddly liberated. Once I’m dead, he’ll have no reason to hurt Ethan. “With all due respect, let’s not play games.”

  “You are quite bold for someone in your position, Fallon. Do not forget your fate is in my hands. As you know, I have those with formidable gifts that support my side. You would do well to remember that.”

  “Why don’t you kill me and get it over with? Or are you trying to bore me to death?”

  Epir slams his fist into the desk, rattling its contents. “Continue to speak like that and I will be more than happy to once you have served your purpose. But that does not mean we cannot have some fun while you are with us.” He presses a button on the side of his desk and a dark haired female appears on the monitor in front of him. “Please send in Fyro.” She nods once and then the screen goes black once again.

  At the mention of his name, I break out into a cold sweat, the echo of the pain he caused still reverberating through my body. A knock sounds at the door and Epir presses another button on his desk and the door slides open. Fyro enters the room and his gray and blue stare is fixed on my face. He is an imposing figure, tall, broad and heavily muscled and the large room feels smaller with his presence. Etched on his left forearm are three thin lines circling the circumference of his arm--like the ones I saw on Zefa except these lines are a bright, vivid red.

  His lips curl into a cruel smile and he speaks with deliberate slowness, “Fallon, so good to see you again.”

  Epir looks irritated and snaps at his brother impatiently, “Fyro, we do not have time for you to play with your food. Sit down.” Despite his physical advantage and powerful mental abilities, Fyro obeys Epir's command immediately. He sits down in the white chair next to me, slinging his arm around the back of it so that he can turn and give me a wink.

  The tension has left his face and his expression is devoid of emotion, Epir continues in a flat voice, “Dearest brother, you know I treasure blood ties above all else. Well, at least those formed in blood.”

  Fyro turns his head to look at his brother, frowning, not understanding Epir’s line of thought, “As do I, brother.”

  Pushing off from his chair, Epir stands up and starts pacing around the room, his shoes clicking on the marble floor. “Fyro, you understand how important our father's legacy is. Xak is probably the most celebrated figure on the battlefield in the history of the Eku. His greatest asset was his ability
to make hard decisions.”

  Fyro nods in agreement, but he is clearly confused. Epir pauses to remove his jacket and hang it on the back of his chair. He’s rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he continues his circuit around the room. On his left forearm are two sets of lines, alternating red and black going up the length of his forearm-- seven in total. “He knew when to attack, when to retreat, when to exploit weaknesses. He never let any talent go to waste.”

  He stops behind Fyro's chair and leans his arms against the headrest. Fryo actually cringes away from his closeness as if afraid and my blood runs cold. “I hope you understand why I have to do this brother.”

  Epir’s tone is measured, but the animosity rolling off his body is palpable, “Do you remember what I asked of you when I sent you for Fallon? I trusted you to obey my orders because we are family. But then you almost short circuit my most valuable commodity. You've become a liability. What I need is an asset.”

  From the pocket of his navy dress pants, Epir pulls out a small silver blade. Without hesitation, he presses the blade against the delicate flesh of Fyro's throat. “Father also knew when to cut his losses and end alliances. Goodbye, brother.”

  It all happens so fast that I barely have time to turn away but there's no way to block out the sound of the blade tearing through Fyro's throat. Nor does it block out the sound of Fyro gurgling and choking on his own blood. I feel ill but I force back the bile threatening to bubble up my throat. If I show any weakness now, Epir will only make it that much worse for me.

  Epir walks around until he's standing in front of me, not a speck of blood on shirt. He calmly wipes his blade on a crisp white handkerchief, Fyro's blood slowly turning it pink. “I expect your full cooperation for the duration of your stay. Please do not disappoint me.” He leans across the desk and presses the button to activate the screen, “Send in the guards and have them escort my cousin to the guest room I had prepared. Oh, and send someone to clean this mess up.”

  Epir's security team reappears and they are either unsurprised or uncaring by the bloody sight of Fyro’s body slumped over in the chair next to mine. Taking up the same positions, they drag me back to the staircase. I am more aware of my surroundings this time around, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

  I vaguely note the ornate black wrought iron railing of the white marble stairs. A lush, red carpet runs down the center of the steps--a stark bloody gash amongst the clean white. I shake my head to clear the image of the knife pressed against Fyro’s throat. We climb several floors and at the top of each floor, I glimpse lavishly decorated corridors before I’m whisked up another flight. I wonder if I’m on the Eku royal palace. Finally, I’m dragged down another long corridor and stop in front of a small black screen at the very end.

  The front guard presses his left wrist against the panel and a door appears in the blank wall, sliding open. The two guards gripping my arms shove me roughly into the room and I turn around just in time to watch the door slide into place. The wall is smooth next to the door--no panel inside to open it. The room is smaller than the office but with the same high ceilings. It is painted a robin's egg blue with a gold filigree pattern. An oval bed with gold bedding is placed against the wall with small round windows above it, set high in the wall. Across from the bed are built in bookshelves filled with hard leather bound books. Next to the shelves sits a delicate white dressing table with slender curved legs supporting an enormous gold mirror, carved with the same filigree pattern as the walls. There is an adjoining room with a pristine white marble bathroom and gold fixtures. Crystal bottles of various sizes filled with different pastel colored liquids line the marble perimeter of the egg shaped porcelain tub. Even the nozzles and shower head are gold. I feel like I'm being held prisoner in a gilded doll house.

  Now that I am alone, the adrenaline dissipates leaving my legs weak. I walk over to the other end of the room and slump onto the bed. My mind is numb with fear and my body is still trembling from my earlier trauma. I keep flashing on the silver blade against the pale flesh of Fyro’s throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push the image out of my mind.

  Epir is obviously an unstable sociopath. I can’t stay here, he won’t be satisfied with just killing me. His thirst for vengeance is too great. I just witnessed a flash of it back in his office. He intends to kill everyone who has ever wronged him and everyone they ever cared about. I have to try to figure out what to do next.

  I am several stories up, so climbing out the window seems unlikely. And if I’m right about being inside the Eku royal palace, where would I run to? Would anyone know to come for me? The way Zefa crumpled over, Epir's instructions for how to handle my bodyguard probably weren't as specific. Would he have hurt Ethan before he took me away? Even though I was the one in immediate danger, I was worried about Zefa and Ethan.

  I push myself into a standing position on the bed, I reach up so my fingertips hug the rim of the window. I am standing on my tip toes, my nose level with the bottom of the high windows. If I make it out of here, I need to get and idea of my surroundings. I wouldn’t want to climb off the edge of a cliff.

  Daylight is quickly fading but I can see a perfectly manicured lawn that is surrounded by a high steel wall. There is a hazy quality about the wall, like it’s humming. Is it electrified? A hologram? I regret not learning more about Phynx and their more advanced technology. I’m sure the Eku are equally advanced and that the wall is impermeable as it looks.

  Beyond the wall is a heavily wooded area and even further out, I can just make out an overgrown, grassy field. I sit back down on the edge of the bed and hold my head in my hands. I close my eyes trying to think of an escape route. Suddenly, a memory of lying in an overgrown field comes to the front of my mind. I scramble up and quickly yank myself back up on my tip toes the bed and look out the window toward the field. I've been there. I've dreamt of that field. I drop back down on the mattress and squeeze my eyes shut, concentrating on the feeling of the wet grass beneath my body.

  I am transported back to that place. Night has fallen when I open my eyes and I am momentarily disorientated by the complete darkness. I am no longer laying on the bed in my gilded prison, instead I am laying on the overgrown grass of the field miles away from the Eku palace.

  The sense of dread is heavy in my stomach. I know I'm not supposed to be here. Pulling my legs underneath me, I stand up to get my bearings. But the wind is whipping fiercely and I don’t know which way leads to safety. The clouds part and a pale beam of moonlight shines down on a lone figure in the distance, I cry out for help but no sound comes out. I struggle against the gusting wind, walking toward the figure. When I almost reach my destination, the figure turns around and the stars are reflected in his flat gray eyes. Epir.

  I open my eyes with a gasp. I had never been able to recall a dream that vividly before. I had never felt in control when it came to my dreams. The memories usually scattered to the wind when I woke up. But hadn't I started remembering my dreams? At least the recent ones. All those dreams I had about Ethan when I was exiled. All those nights I spent talking to him in his dreams.

  Even more recently, earlier when I was still unconscious, I had been with Zefa. I knew what had transgressed before we both ended up inside his head--he had been hurt badly but not dead. Not only had I been aware, I had purpose and acted of my own free will. I don’t really understand how it works and I never got a chance to ask Zefa about my vivid dreams of Ethan.

  But everything from earlier is so clear, I had to have been conscious inside his dream--I’m sure of it. I had been conscious in my shared dreams with Ethan when we were separated. Maybe this was a new dimension of my ability that manifested because I needed Ethan. When the pain was most unbearable, I had gone to him during those times of desperate loneliness. I hadn't intended for it to happen, but it did.

  Before Fyro zapped me, I had seen Zefa on the ground. Had my fear for his life and Ethan’s brought me into his dream? Could I consciously decide to go to him now
? And then what? How many lives would be risked to rescue mine?

  An image of Zefa lying motionless on the ground flashes in my mind. Fyro’s hate filled blue and gray stare. Epir's cold steel blade pressed against Fyro's white throat. His even colder gray eyes, indifferent to the blood spilled by his hand. What other dangers lie in wait? Fryo was not Epir’s only weapon.

  I knew so little of what my own mind was capable of, the possibilities of my enemies’ abilities is endlessly terrifying. My eyelids are heavy and I let them flutter close. I can’t think anymore, I'm so tired. My body, mind, and soul feel battered--the type of weariness that furrows deep in your bones. The final rays of light fade from the windows overhead and shortly after, sleep claims me.

  Ethan

  My body has been tensed for action since the moment I heard the back door slam open. We left my house as soon as I treated and taped up Zefa’s head with some gauze. I hope that my hastily scribbled note to my mom would suffice for whatever amount of the time I would be gone.

  We rode my motorcycle to the forest preserve as it would be a tad suspicious if I had left it behind. Then Zefa had surprised me with his strength when he hoisted my bike up easily and carried it about half a mile into the forest before covering it with some foliage. Now we are heading toward his ship. Time seems to have slowed to a crawl.

  As Zefa and I make our way through the dark forest, every sound makes me jump out of my skin. Are there more coming back for us? I am too preoccupied and filled with dread to be shocked by the strange space ship that Zefa makes materialize from thin air. He presses his arm against the side of the ship and a door materializes, stairs sliding down to greet us.

  We climb up the stairs into the cabin area and head toward the front of the ship. Zefa presses his arm against another screen built into the wall, it lights up and a door slides open revealing the cockpit. He sits down and immediately starts tapping away frantically on the screens. There is a quiet whir as the control panel starts flashing and lines of green start scrolling down the screen, picking up speed until they are a blur of movement. His eyes are shifting back and forth, so at least he is fast enough to read them. I take the seat next to him and hastily buckle myself into a multi-strap harness as he does the same.