by Amanda Churi
“Where are we?” Daisy choked out, a bit frightened.
“A place that our enemies know about,” Cecil answered cautiously. “They can’t get here right now ‘cause yar father has his security high, but that Desmond feller knows it exists.”
Daisy sighed, dropping her head and staring up at Cecil in disbelief. “Please. Can you ever give me a straight answer?”
“Now, where be the fun in that?” he reasoned with his famous, mischievous smile. “No, in all seriousness, though, this be…” He thought better of it. “Well, showin’ ya would be easier.” He politely extended his hand to the young girl, dipping his head. “Whenever ya’re ready.”
Daisy gulped, her eyes swishing over his callused hand and then to the dungeon-like tunnel ahead. The only sound besides her labored breathing was the slow trickle of moisture somewhere in the distance, each drip creating a lonely, sinister echo, causing her skin to break out into a barrage of chills. Every natural instinct she had told her not to go—to find a way to float back up to the safety of her pillows and blankies—but her curiosity had already taken the bait.
Making her decision, she took Cecil’s hand, the young man failing to suppress a cheeky grin as he guided her to his desired destination. No words were said; the ambiance made any and all speech that Daisy even thought about releasing shrink back into her throat.
They trudged on as one through the dark for several elongated minutes, Daisy continuing to paint a mental picture of every peculiar object scattered on the floor: vials, books, syringes, dolls, blood stains… It was all so random that she just couldn’t comprehend what bizarre thing she was gradually closing in on with each shuffle of her feet.
Cecil paused, Daisy stopping beside him as the light from his eyes encountered an unidentified object in the distance, refracting in multiple directions and giving light to what appeared to be a large room ahead. The room was so lustrous… So sheik and modern that Daisy’s eyes bulged, begging her to get a closer look.
Cecil inhaled deeply, raising himself to his max height before cautiously advancing, never releasing his small apprentice. Daisy tiptoed slightly behind him, every nerve in her skin zapping with apprehension as the hidden realm came closer and closer, until finally, they stepped through the doorway.
Daisy stopped dead.
Dust covered the entire vicinity like snow—a space that went on for thousands upon thousands of square feet; each pocket of air was more cluttered than the last, stuffed with abandoned contraptions that blew the boundaries of Daisy’s imagination to smithereens. Hundreds of bulbs were strung across the ceiling high above, many broken and making the expanse below a dangerous land to tread. Each and every inch of the room was exploited as much as it could be: mix-matched cabinets were rooted to the walls; exposed pipes ran between open shelves; and buttons and screens from every sector of the imagination smothered what gaps were left. A breathtaking number of contraptions unknown to the residents of the future were tossed about. Lab tables were erected wherever they felt necessary, covered with test tubes, half-designed weapons, lab books, journals, and tools. Glass, shatter-proof chambers were embedded into certain sectors of the floor, filled with sluggish, unnaturally colored liquids that pressed fluid-based sacks of goo against the boundary between life and death.
“Whoa…” Daisy squeaked, capturing every beam of light that shot from one side of the chrome-platted room to the other, making the entire enclosure shudder with a chilly blue hue.
“The lab of the Nobles,” Cecil cleared up, pulling away from Daisy as he carefully inched around the many hazards littering the floor. “Place done went to ruins after the last fight.”
“You knew what they were up to…?” Daisy inquired, shocked.
Cecil nodded. “Didn’t care about stoppin’ them, though—didn’t see a point.” He veered his twinkling eyes to the innocent child. “Didn’t see much until ya reappeared in my life.”
Daisy looked away. Awkward… “So… You took me here why?”
“To show ya just how dedicated yar opponent is,” Cecil stressed, pushing past several objects and heading towards the center of the room. At the origin, only one object lay claim to the heart of such insanity.
Where the floor should have been flat, it was not. A perfect octagonal chunk of earth had been excavated from the stone—easily the size of a large family-room rug. The frame of the crater was outlined with dull silver plates, and shattered LEDs dotted the surface. Past the neglected sheets of metal, the rock fell away at a sharp grade for approximately a meter before it flattened out once more; uncountable severed wires crisscrossed at the bottom of the trench like a spider web, permanently disabling the contraption.
“Ya know what this is?” Cecil started.
Daisy took her time getting over to him, making sure to watch her step. “Uh, no, I don’t…” she admitted. “What is it?”
“A portal,” Cecil told her, both his voice and sight distant. “In the future, the intellect of the human race reached a terrifyin’ level, and they learned how to manipulate time. That ain’t right, Daisy. That ability… That be ours and ours alone, and to know that the mortals have become so advanced that they can ultimately match ancient supernaturals… That is somethin’ we gotta be wary of.”
“Time…?” Daisy repeated with a gasp. “We can control—?”
“Yah,” Cecil concurred bluntly. “Not to the full extent, though. When ya give people that kind of power, they’re bound to do somethin’ awful with it.” He crouched down, running his fingers through the dust gathered on the rim of the portal, creating a peculiar symbol. “That be partially what caused this division of worlds—too trustin’ of a God and too greedy of an angel.” He lifted his finger, pointing to his artwork.
It was a symbol of some sort; it looked like several different letters combined into one, but they were twisted in such a way that Daisy really couldn’t describe it. “What’s that?”
“I ain’t tellin’,” Cecil spat. “I wanna see if ya can figure it out on yar own.”
Daisy moaned in protest, reluctantly studying the foreign symbol. This was stupid! What on Earth was some freaky drawing—?
And then her thoughts stopped her. There was a faint echo—the voices of multiple people tickling her ears in a language that she couldn’t understand. They were words which made no sense, but somehow, through all of the gibberish, one clear message came through to her.
“Pinion?” she questioned, looking back up at Cecil in confusion. Cecil smiled, a sparkle in his eye as his pride beamed out of him tenfold.
“Yah,” he agreed. “That’s right. Ya know what language that be?”
She paused, contemplating her answer before finally realizing she was in the dark, giving a loathing shake of the head.
“It’s the language of the Lord?” Cecil edged on, raising an eye in concern. “Ya ain’t fluent in yar own birth-taught language?”
She felt stupid. “I guess not, sorry…” Daisy apologized. “I’m just not into lore like my daddy; I don’t know much about our master, or… Pinion. Whatever that is.”
Cecil’s eyes darkened. “Do ya at least know how we came to be?”
Daisy was caught off guard by his question. If she remembered the lore of Maeve, Eyla, and such correctly, then yes. The magic from Maeve’s sword was manipulated through the years, randomly appearing as a distinct gene in supernaturals that was never able to be passed down due to their infertility. Their unique gene lured the Eyla… And the first Eyla to fuse with them became their second half—the half responsible for the characteristics of their powers and the dictator of when they could be used. Those who possessed these rare traits were placed under the Devil’s protection since their existence was not God’s will, and the Devil felt that He could exploit such for His own gain.
“Hm… So that’s what be in yar head,” Cecil mused, rising after he finished peering into her brain, not waiting for a verbal answer. “A bit narrow in there.”
“What’s th
at supposed to mean?!” Daisy yapped, shooting him a frustrated glare. “Can you please talk to me?!”
“Isn’t that what I be doin’?” Cecil rounded as he began to head back towards the tunnel.
“T-that’s not what I mean!”
He didn’t look back, nonchalantly taking his leave.
Daisy growled, reluctantly following Cecil and heading back into the claustrophobic, dark hallway. Why was it so hard to get a peep out of him? She was surprised that she even knew his name.
“I just bein’ cautious of what I reveal,” he defended, his head straight as Daisy came hustling up behind him. “The more ya know, the more beans ya can spill.”
“But I won’t!” she chirped feistily. “I know how to shut up!”
Cecil sighed, closing his eyes. “It’s too risky. I ain’t tryin’ to be selfish, but ya gotta understand that if things go wrong and I done screw up again…
“No amount of nothin’ will save the world this time around.”
***
She stood on the mighty bridge later that day, her hand smushed against her chubby cheek as Daisy flicked pebbles off of the newly constructed walls, watching the current yank them down to the seafloor. Hopefully, Cecil was done blowing her mind for a bit. After he had shown her the hidden lab, he decided to head back into town without saying much more, concluding their “training” for the day. Daisy could not be more grateful. She just needed to rest… To not think for a bit and give her brain a chance to recoup.
“Daisy?”
Utterly fed up with all of the interruptions as of late, Daisy sharply turned her head to face the portcullis, her eyes attempting to murder whoever fell in her line of sight. “Holy crap, what do you—?!” Her threat cut itself short when she saw her father standing at a halt several feet from her, baffled.
Daisy quelled the burning growl that had been so close to exploding from her tiny body. She averted her eyes, gruffly looking back down at the swirling current, embarrassed.
Kevin stood still for a moment more before hesitantly approaching Daisy; his eyes bustled with a million questions, especially when he noticed that she would not look back at him. “Daze, you ok?” he began tensely, placing a hand on her shoulder in a vainful attempt to comfort her.
She grunted, having no answer for him. What was she supposed to say? How could she justify what she was feeling or possibly even begin to describe all that she had been going through without slipping up? She couldn’t; it wasn’t possible. Besides, now he wanted to pay attention to her instead of Lucy or his people? When he finally realized that something was wrong?
“What, I’m suddenly your daughter again?” Daisy snarled with distaste; she angrily crossed her arms and rested her chin, her eyes just barely poking over the wall.
Kevin winced. “You’re always going to be my daughter…” he reassured her, tenderly stroking her shoulder. “I’ve just been a bit distracted lately—”
“Naw dip,” Daisy interrupted, taking a step to the side to steal her bubble back.
Kevin groaned, choosing to respect her distance, but he wasn’t going to give up on her. “Daisy, I’m trying to talk to you. Can you at least listen?”
Daisy huffed, not caring much either way.
Kevin took that as a yes, leaning his back against the wall and folding his arms across his chest as he stared up at the radiant sun. The small, delicately crafted crown atop his head beamed in the fresh light, his black eyes serving as mirrors for the lustrous heavens above. “I’m sorry for not giving you the attention you deserve as of late,” he sincerely apologized, “but don’t act like what you are going through is new. Every supernatural has had to deal with these inner wars at one point, especially when young. You have to be strong and push through it.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. Oh, how little he knew.
“Discovering yourself is hard,” he continued to lecture. “And… No, I have never seen anyone grow as fast as you, but you can’t let that change who you are… As a sorceress, you’re very vulnerable, and you need to remember that. Remaining on your toes at all times is a key—”
“I’m not a sorceress.”
Kevin stuttered, his flustered orbs shifting back to his immobile daughter “What? Of course you are.”
“No, I’m not,” Daisy argued softly, finally forcing herself to face her father. “I’m not anything like one.”
Kevin frowned. “Daisy, please don’t go deteriorating yourself like that… You can’t just fight your origins or you and your Eyla—”
“No! Just stop, Daddy!” Daisy shouted, jutting her neck out painfully and wailing at the top of her lungs as her tears revealed themselves. “Stop! You don’t know what’s happening to your little girl anymore because you’re never around! You just want to be with Mommy, and you’re leaving me to have to try and figure this out all on my own! I can’t even be alone for a minute; Cecil watches me like a hawk, and I don’t even have the time to be alone with my own thoughts anymore! Don’t you get that?!”
“I—”
“No, just don’t!” she ranted, the tears and drippy nose adding to the pain that she finally let her father see. “You’re my daddy, not Cecil! Change his job or something; I would rather stick to your side all day than be under his eye all of the time! I… I miss you…!”
Kevin did not speak. His chest constricted, the ache radiating in his bones growing stronger by the second as his buried emotions and fears began to resurface. Silent, he reached into his cloak, pulling out a small entity and passing it to Daisy.
The sight of the object startled Daisy’s running tears, her small hiccups and sniffles retreating as she took the item from her father’s hold, intrigued as the brain of her true age seized control.
It was a small doll that fit snuggly in Daisy’s hands as she held it up for further examination. A pink dress born from rags and multicolored thread cloaked her body, her brown, coarse skin coming straight from a bag of feed. Two blue buttons served as her eyes, her large, zigzagged smile remaining tight despite the toxic sorrow cascading down Daisy’s red cheeks. She had no hair, but she didn’t need it; the doll was just simply beautiful.
“I-I understand your concerns, and… I’m sorry that I’ve been so lost lately…” Kevin rasped, unable to smile even when Daisy did, the eyes of the doll sucking her into a trance. “And believe me, I know that I have drifted, and I guessed that you were feeling ill towards me, but… When I was struggling, my mother actually gave me a similar toy. It helped a lot when no one else understood… Because you’re right, I can never fully comprehend what you’re feeling, but… She can. I’m obviously no seamstress, but I made her for you, and… I hope you like her.”
Daisy’s widening smile only reinforced such. “Of course I do!” she squeaked, hugging her toy and imagining the doll giving her a hug back. “She’s soooo cute…! Can I name her?”
Kevin chuckled, escorting Daisy back into the castle with a gentle hand resting on her shoulder. “Most certainly.”
Daisy held her doll up in the air like a prophet, nothing else known to her at that moment. “Hm… Sagey!” she meeped loudly.
“…That’s an adorable name,” Kevin commented, his spirits slowly lifting. Just as they entered the foyer, Kevin turned his daughter back to him, pushing down on Sagey’s head so that Daisy could look at her father instead. “Now, honey, Sagey is your friend. Just play with her, talk to her… And just bear with me for the next while… I promise, you and I will hang out soon, but until then, you need to be a strong de Vaux, ok?”
Daisy’s glee waned, her arms morphing into noodles. She didn’t want to be strong any longer… She wasn’t supposed to be. She wasn’t even a year old, technically! She wanted her father to get rid of Cecil and take over her training for himself, but she knew that wasn’t an option at the moment.
She might have been mad at him lately, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t love her daddy… And she certainly wouldn’t want to get in his way when he was trying to do nothi
ng but help save the town. She just wished that he would open his eyes a bit more was wall…
Submitting to his wishes, Daisy sighed and nodded, pressing Sagey against her chest as her father pulled her into a tight hug, the tears emerging as the mask proceeded to stand between her and her father yet again—
A mask that she knew wa
s on the verge of breaking.
Twenty-three
Awakening
Due to their physical conditions, their mental afflictions, and the harsh rules of the Encryption many of the new arrivals had to be “fixed.”
Surgeons of the Encryption sat about in their workshop, along with a few who specialized in evil embodiments. The Encryptors conversed in a very professional manner, keeping their voices low and the room dark as they exchanged information in the most discreet way possible to avoid upsetting the many creations that resided here, all of whom had been subjected to reprogramming.
Sybil lay curled up in the back of her cage that was built into a wall, trying to provide herself with a bit of warmth. She was built to withstand the cold, but she could not fend off her chill at the moment. She felt different—a strange different.
Her stomach growled, Sybil slightly squealing in response to her body’s discomfort. She was used to going hungry, but her stomach just wouldn’t settle down. She faintly recalled being put out—medicines of all assortments injected into her tiny body, flooding her veins and causing her brain to malfunction. She didn’t know how long ago that had been… Hours? Days? Weeks? Whatever the time frame, she was nothing short of worn to the bone.
She sluggishly opened her eyes, peering out from between her ears that covered her face. Her vision was partially blurred, proving that toxins still reigned within. Her overly sensitive ears rang, and her nose burned, directing her attention to a small dish that sat towards the front of her cage.
Hesitantly, Sybil raised her head, having trouble keeping it perched. Her flat nose twitched, and even though her senses were a bit wonky, the amazing, delicious scent blowing towards her was still able to shoot right up her nostrils and smack her brain.