by Amanda Churi
Suddenly, Flye gave the entire cart another jolt to the right before hovering a single hand over the center of the yoke. Her lips moved as she silently counted once more, and just as Laelia realized what she was doing, Flye slammed her hand onto the pad in the center.
The loud roar of the motor ceased at once, and before any of them could even blink, their bodies were thrown forward as the tracker came to a near-instant halt.
The three girls panted uncontrollably, specifically Laelia and Sybil. Flye made herself take a deep breath, and stiffly, as though her muscles were frozen, she retracted her hands from the yoke and slumped down into her seat. She closed her eyes, all of them taking a moment to recuperate before they went any further.
“We… Need to get going…” Flye gasped, flicking a single switch. Immediately, the glass dome over their heads flew back once more, a wave of frigid air striking them in the face as the crystalized mist surrounding them spun softly down into the depths.
They were in a tunnel identical to the one they had departed from; had Flye not memorized the sequence, there would have been no way to tell that they were at a different location.
Flye stood up on shaky legs, taking in a large quantity of the grimy air before stepping over the side of the pod and placing her feet on the stone. She waited patiently for Laelia, extending a hand to offer her assistance.
Hesitantly, Laelia did so as she carefully climbed out of the tracker, gripping Flye’s hand as hard as she could.
“If I didn’t know who was behind that armor, you would be dead right here,” she chortled heartily, guiding Laelia towards the stable landmass.
Laelia was stiff in both body and mind as she was led away from the rails and carried closer to enemy territory. This… This was it…
Flye stopped beside a wall, Laelia looking at her in puzzlement as Flye pointed up. Laelia followed her sense of direction, noticing an iron ladder hooked into the frigid rock, stretching towards the ceiling of the cave for many meters. A small disk loomed at the top, a single stream of dull, tainted light shining through a minuscule hole and trickling down upon them.
“Up there is enemy land,” Flye explained. “Be ready for what you are about to see, and the moment I tell you to go, you go.”
Laelia swallowed nervously, nodding her shaking head.
“Stop that!” Flye demanded, her eyes slivers as she bopped Laelia on the forehead. “Get a grip! If you act scared, they will know something is up, and that will be the end!” She grabbed Laelia’s face, staring at her through the visor, her determined, unrelenting eyes piercing the material that kept them apart. “Keep your head straight… And no matter what, do not get caught. Please…”
Laelia smiled. “I won’t; I’m not an idiot.”
Flye grinned back, pulling away and roughly tapping her head. “I know you aren’t. Now, go ahead and open the wave.”
“Got it!” Sybil piped up. She scrambled around inside of the armor for a moment before her claw found a red button, and with a single push, Laelia’s mic, speakers, and cameras were turned on, quickly trying to find the correct wavelength so that she could be connected to her fellow allies.
“Up we go,” Flye said simply. She grabbed the rungs of the ladder first, quickly climbing up into the heavens with Laelia following her. Her mind spun as the crackle of static rang in her ears, the light drawing closer. It’s about time I did some good instead of bad… she thought to herself. It’s time to help others without the assistance of an arrow or my fist. I am strong. I am unbreakable. I am Laelia Caesar: The Dark Vigilante and The Future Empress of Rome.
Flye pushed the plate of metal away at the top, a rain of polluted light pouring over them. On guard, she poked her head up through the hole, looking around before quickly scrambling up through the trapdoor, Laelia rushing after her.
When she climbed out, Laelia noticed that they were in what looked like an abandoned home. The walls hardly stood, as did the roof. Debris of all sorts littered the floor, a thick layer of ice coating anything that the evil substance could wrap its claws of death around.
Flye crept towards a fairly large gap in the wall but did not allow even a hair on her body to touch the enemy air. Laelia kept on her heels, peering out with her. Multiple establishments much like the one they entered were scattered about the land, each more run-down than the last. This sight didn’t shock Laelia too much, but when she turned her head and looked to the left, her heart hardly remembered that it was supposed to beat.
A palace made up of intertwined silver and thick, gray-blue ice loomed mockingly in the distance. Their walls stretched nearly half-a-mile high, the sparkling towers of deadly frost and metal behind the barrier looming a few hundred feet higher. A gate of ice barred the entrance, many dead, frozen oaks lining the walls that kept any who were not allowed in, out. Two Elites sat on horses on both sides of the gate, each holding a chain that was so cold it caused the air around them to crystalize. Their horses were literally skeletons; their bones were held together by purple wisps of magic, and an eerie black mist that looked like a cloud of poison flowed from both their backside and spine, acting as a tail and mane. Clouds tainted the sky—dark, sick clouds releasing a monsoon of gray snowflakes that rapidly piled on top of one another until they stood nearly a meter high. The only part of the land that was cleared of snow was a wide path leading through the destroyed village and to the entrance of the evil fortress.
A muffled, gradually crescendoing roar was all that Laelia could hear besides the howling wind. Her bones began to shake, and almost immediately, Laelia told herself to get a grip. She could do this. She always could.
“Get back!” Flye snapped in a hushed voice, slamming her back against the wall with Laelia immediately doing the same. The roar became louder until, finally, Laelia could make out the pattern—a uniform thud, thud, thud, in an endless loop.
Flye threw an arm across Laelia’s chest. A regiment of soldiers suddenly passed by their hiding place—Haxors, to be precise. Their feet rose and fell in unison, their bodies held high and chins making a perfect “L.” Their armor was squealing with lively electricity, their guns strapped to their backs as they approached their corrupted home.
Silent, Flye lowered her arm, motioning Laelia forth with a finger. Although a wreck inside, Laelia did what she was told. Flye held her around the forearm, peeking outside. Her lips hardly moved when she said what she did next.
“Remember your mission… Do not get distracted, and do not make yourself stand out. Be strong… I will see you back here soon.” She paused. “NOW!”
Immediately, she flung Laelia out of the gap in the wall, the child stumbling as she flew into the ranks of Haxors on shaky legs.
She gasped, quickly realizing the change in scenery and straightening up before any could notice. Flye had cast her into the last line of the march, and quickly, Laelia evaluated the pattern of their feet before beginning to march with them. The Haxors both in front and beside her did not notice any commotion; their thwarted brains simply kept their heads straight and eyes locked onto their homeland.
“Here we go…” Sybil whispered, trembling against Laelia’s stomach.
Laelia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she composed herself and wrapped her being in the mind of a soldier. She kept her head on square but allowed her eyes to wander as far back as they could, catching one last glimpse of her friend, who gave her an encouraging smile.
“Ey, Laelia, this is Justus,” a metallic, semi-chopped voice came as Laelia shifted her attention back to the quickly approaching gate, which swung open to grant passage to the Haxors. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” she responded tensely.
“Good. Everything seems to be working fine. We will give you instructions when need be, but we are always here watching. Be careful.”
Laelia did not answer him. She could not believe she was doing this… But now it was too late to back out. She was in this until she escaped—
Or fell.
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br /> Twenty-eight
Between the Lies
Dirt and mold resided in the depths of her body, worms and maggots burrowing through her soggy skin and devouring her insides as bugs from all assortments heard the news of a new food source that would fill their bellies for months to come. Spiders nested in the hollowed sockets of her eyes, and beetles ran marathons across her deteriorating bones, all while wolves lingered at the surface, staring beneath the pocket of earth and pondering on whether or not the now infected carcass was something worthy enough to bring to the alphas of the pack.
And the funny thing was that she did not mind. She missed her beloved and knew that she would never be with him, but she sat in the clouds, smiling down as she watched him race through the fields, barking and chasing squirrels as a young boy raced after him. She understood fully that if he had never left, a boy as innocent and broken as he would never have survived. Perhaps that was for the better of the world, but his destiny was no fault of his own, and she could not be more proud that her man had helped heal the child piece by piece.
She watched from above for many years as both her love and the boy grew. She came to him in dreams and kissed his gentle lips, telling him that she would be with him until the end—
Until her end proved to not be the end at all.
She sensed a disturbance in the depths of her soul that walked the land of sun and peace—a feeling unheard of in her realm. She traveled across the stars and the indigo sky, leaping from each constellation and lone crystal to the moon, traveling back to see her decayed body glowing red beneath the earth that was nourished by her own nutrients. With a loud crunch, a hand shot out of the soil, tearing roots apart as the woman began to thrash under the layers of matter that crushed her.
Bones and organs long gone began to reform. Her original lungs expanded, and suddenly, her body broke the crust as she sat up straight in her grave.
Crying for a chance to return to Earth, to be with her love even for one more second, she tried to break free of the world she loved and fill her body, but she couldn’t. Her soul did not allow her to, and with eyes of dread, she noticed a foreign soul flowing within her revived body—an Eyla laughing maniacally as, finally, it found a host. A vein of obsidian broke the skin on her neck, and with a massive push, a golden gem was born in the center—a gem which represented rebirth.
Now a broken and helpless spirit, she watched from afar as the Eyla proceeded to live out the life with the man she yearned for. She saw them bond in ways that she could have only hoped for, his love given to the woman he truly believed was her… But she only had her body and memories; her morals were far from Lucy’s, and now, as worlds began to collide, the truth was slowly becoming clear.
The blood of a child spilled across the Earth, a ghost rising forth from the mother, but it would not break its link. It wrapped its mystical arms around that of the host that it tried to hold onto as the body was carried back to the castle and laid down on a bed. Kevin was torn apart in every way as he sat beside her on a chair, sobbing uncontrollably; Lucy’s heart was still beating, but she would awake for nothing.
Lucy’s original spirit stood at attention for days in the room, watching the Eyla who had forged her identity hug her body. One moment of separation between them was all that it would take, and honestly, that was best at this point. Her body no longer deserved to walk this Earth; it needed to be buried permanently.
The Eyla groaned. It had been five days, and as time went on, its form only became more transparent. They looked like the ghost of a human—a ghost made of fog and small fragments of light that shimmered like ivory flames. Lucy’s soul was formed from the stars and clouds; star dust blew off of her hair and limbs, the sound of chimes and bells lightly touching the air as every vein of her golden spirit was moved by a soft, magical breeze. The pocket of air that surrounded her radiated sunlight and purity, trying to stretch its reach to every corner of the room.
“Do not die…” the Eyla pleaded softly, rubbing the side of Lucy’s cheek. “We have much to do… Much to gain!”
Lucy’s spirit stiffened. How dare she… It was rightfully her body in the first place!
The Eyla suddenly distorted a bit more, its magical body rippling in the air as some of its features became unidentifiable. Frightened, the Eyla raised its head as Lucy’s body released a shaky breath, every bone and organ shuddering as she struggled to hold onto life.
Lucy’s soul took a deep breath, her feet urging her to step forward as soon as she caught sight of the face. It was a face she could never forget—the face that peered in through the window as she held her newborn in her hands—a face she only saw for a brief second before a flash of purple obscured her vision, and her gruesome decent into death began.
“Calla…” she whispered, her voice seething with hatred and revenge.
The Eyla cringed, their head slowly rotating in the direction of the infuriated spirit. Much like Lucy’s black eyes stood out from her angelic form, so did the purple eyes of the most heinous witch in history. She glared at Lucy, slightly smirking, though retaining her hold on the body. “Yes, that is what I was once called,” she began nonchalantly, her voice dry and cracking with fatigue, adequately reflecting the state of the body she was one with. “My, isn’t it wonderful to see you again!”
Lucy could hardly retain her sanity. “Get out of my body, you fiend…”
Calla chuckled, lightly shaking her head as the mischievous glint that far too many had come to know flashed in her eye. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not sure that I feel like it!”
“That’s not yours!” Lucy cried. “That is mine! Get back to Hell where you belong!”
“Calla’s body is already there,” the Eyla enlightened her smugly. “Her soul is as well.” She paused, a sly smile drawn on her face. “Well, half of it at least.”
Lucy snarled in frustration. Right… Supernaturals had two.
Calla’s Eyla was one of the darkest she could have received… And of course, it chose to take refuge in her own abode after it could use Calla no longer…
“…How…?” Lucy asked assertively.
Calla flicked her hair back, scattering her translucent fibers throughout the room. She was anything but intimidated. “I was ripped from my host at the decree of Satan—a punishment for Calla’s betrayal. Fortunately, nearly the moment we parted, a little experiment pulled me to the nearest grave that I could find…” She snickered, the violet sparkle in her eyes gaining strength. “I guess Fate really wants me around, hm?”
“No, it doesn’t!” Lucy shrieked. “You need to leave now!”
“Pardon me, but this is my new host,” she continued, tousling Lucy’s brittle, caramel hair in her hands. “You have no reign here, Lucy. Leave me be, and let destiny come forth.”
Lucy’s hands became the victims of malice, curling up and thirsting for blood that she could not take. “You took my life…” she reprimanded her. “You took away my happiness, my self-worth, and now, you take my form and proceed to live out what should have been my pleasures. How can you possibly do that?! Does it not sicken you that you are having relations with the very one who you once looked to as a son? How sick can you get?!”
“Very,” Calla said. “But I don’t care; Calla had all of those feelings and relations. Me? It means nothing. I only wish to be spared of endless meandering. Why not enjoy life’s, as you call it, pleasures, while I can? Experience what I never could?” She lowered her head, smiling as she rested it on Lucy’s bosom, feeling the light pulse of the heart beneath her frail skin. “The best thing about being an Eyla is the fact that we get to do whatever we want if we get into a body. I prefer to create a bit of a mess; it makes awaiting Death all the more wonderful.”
“But if you bring damnation upon your host, you bring it upon yourself! Do you not strive to go to Heaven?”
Calla scoffed. “No, I do not. Peace seems a bit boring, no? Pain is enthralling… And Earth is a land in which we pay for our sins lat
er. Why not have fun while we can? We only live once, well… Unless you are me.” She turned her attention to the host below her. “Or you for that matter.”
Lucy said nothing; she was so enraged by this irrational reasoning that she knew if she opened her mouth, the vilest words in history would pour forth and swallow her.
“I don’t think most people understand just how much influence the Eyla has,” she went on. “Even the supernaturals don’t compute our power accurately. Lost souls… Pft, it is rare that we yearn to reach the world above; revenge is much more important. We allow them to access their powers; quite submissive at first we are, actually, but the moment they choose to begin exploring the darker, more sinister sides of themselves…” She chuckled darkly. “Our reign over their actions becomes stronger, and it is amazing. A thirst… One which is unquenchable…”
She turned her sight to Kevin, who continued to sit by Lucy, holding her hand and quietly sobbing. “It’s a shame that he got the pitiful end of the deal twice around, no? First, the ability to shift and yield light, and now… Ha. Poor bastard.”
Lucy’s ears perked up. “What are you talking about?”
Calla slowly rotated back to face Lucy’s soul. “He was, as many said, blessed with a powerful Eyla, which, in fact, wanted to reach Heaven. One of the strongest supernaturals in history, struggling to get a grasp on his powers at a young age, but under the cover of night, often while the child he looked over was asleep, he would sneak away and train. Relentlessly. Truly a magnificent specimen.” She chuckled. “He had his Eyla ripped away as well, but he found another as soon as he was revived—another well-intentioned soul! Would you look at that! Poor thing, though. Now, he doesn’t even know about it; he doesn’t know that he possesses a new power, but one he just can’t find, much like when he was younger.
“With Satan breaking completely away from the supernatural, restrictions were lifted, though unfortunately for you, the Returned came back infertile, as they are not truly alive. Did you never notice that you were the only Returned expecting a child?” She glanced at Lucy’s sunken abdomen. “His powers were the only reason he was able to grant your barren body the gift of a child, my dear. Good thing it perished… They might have been a terrible trump card to the war if Maeve’s gene was passed on.”