by Amanda Churi
He walked the Earth, begged for forgiveness, but he was an outcast. Step by step, he ventured the globe as thousands of years swept under his legs. He remained one with his powers, but pink they no longer were, rather green—a permanent branding to always remind him of his treachery.
He tried to help many; he yearned to take his actions and naïvety back—and although his punishment was irreversible, become a victim of failure he would not.
The familiar setting of Phantome became an area now known to Cecil’s mind. He only showed himself as a helpful face, always ready to lend a hand to those who needed it, remaining set on paying off his debts.
…And she proved to be a daunting challenge. Sam’s face swirled its way into existence, and although seemingly kind at heart, she was thirsty below. Cecil saw her as a possible key to redemption; perhaps if he could steer her, one so lost and damned, onto the path of righteousness, he would be forgiven.
But… Why would he lie about her name? Her identity? Her story?
He set out to accomplish his goals. He forged a friendship with the woman, trying to help drive her values in the right direction but to no avail. One fatal stand with a man and a mother became her fate. She was scared; she wanted help and turned to Cecil for guidance, and although reluctant, he felt obligated and agreed to help her through the frightening process, having already gone through it with Alice.
In three short months, Daisy saw herself enter this realm, and when she took her first breaths, Cecil did as well.
Daisy saw something she could never accurately describe: the silhouette of a girl standing above her, her wrists bound in thread as she screamed out, cried to someone far away who kneeled on the ground. In the darkness above their heads, formed by faint stars that they could not see, three gears were held together with a fourth, two bands of fire racing around them. A sword reached through the heart of the formation, pulsing with light as it tried to battle the encroaching ice, pumping with more energy and radiance as the gears spun faster and faster, the entire contraption threatening to combust.
Seeing what was in her eyes—in her mind when she was first born—Cecil knew he had only one option. Unlike Alice, Sam was anything but committed, returning to her exciting, lustful life, and leaving Daisy to be raised by Cecil—a role he did not hesitate to accept. Someone so powerful… One who belonged to a vision… He couldn’t let anything happen to her, to the last of them…
She grew at unbelievable speeds, the two practically father and daughter. It was a day like any other, only this time, his luck was pressed. Cecil and Daisy sat on the floor of Sam’s home, Cecil speaking to her young, sponge-like mind in a very low voice as he raised his palm, allowing her to see the green light of his damned soul burning through his flesh.
The door swung open. In a snap, his world was breaking beneath him as both Sam and the man at her elbow saw his powers. She screamed, wanted Cecil gone as Sam whisked Daisy into her arms, refusing to let the deranged man get close. They yelled at the top of their lungs back and forth, Cecil’s infuriation rising each second, but only one phrase stood out to Daisy, much like it stands out to a child when they know they have done wrong.
The use of one’s full name: Elizabeth Samantha Helm.
The unknown man stepped forward, raging about how Daisy was his child and that he and Sam had full claim to her, not some demonic mutant as they threatened to expose his secret. Cecil would not back down, and the moment that everything took a turn for the worst, Daisy finally remembered what her brain had kept from her for so long.
They fought. Cecil fought for Daisy, and her father, Robert, fought to take her back. It was brutal; blood was flying, furniture was smashed, and bones were broken—before Cecil played his trump card. He would not lose Daisy… And he would not fail at redeeming himself.
He pacified them… Permanently. With a bone-crunching strike of green light, energy more potent and sinister than any before it, both mortals were frozen in time, their hearts never to beat again. Cecil grabbed Daisy as she thrashed and sobbed in terror, setting fire to the home to destroy all evidence of his presence as he prepared to whisk her away to someplace where they could never be found.
But not before Fate stepped in and a Glaso stood within the burning home, screaming for back-up so that they could eliminate the evil magic present.
The Glaso attacked. Cecil threw Daisy to the side, fighting the enraged spirit as fire began to ellipse the child. Terrified for her life as the two supernaturals fought, she crawled to the side of her fallen parents, hiding. Cecil and the Glaso continued to battle, and the spirit proved to be a formidable opponent. Cecil was gaining ground, but not fast enough, and before long, more Glasos were answering the distress call.
Knowing that he could not win against so many, Cecil tried to grab Daisy and flee, but through the chaos, he could not find her; in fear, he gave way to invisibility and fled the scene with the spirit hot on his tail. He succeeded in getting away, but by the time he returned, Daisy was gone.
The energy transpiring in the depths of Daisy’s mind suddenly collapsed, and she found herself lying in the arms of her traitorous mentor.
Tears flooded his eyes and stained his victimized face as Cecil cradled Daisy, twinkling, green starlight filtering through his fingers and circulating through her torn body as he sat under Sam’s tree, rocking her back and forth like a baby.
No matter how weak she was, how close to Death himself, the growl of hatred flaring inside of Daisy’s throat could not be restrained. Why… WHY?!
Cecil winced upon hearing her thoughts and seeing what she had, knowing that in his desperation to reach her, upon finally establishing a solid link between their minds, she had unknowingly gotten into his as well. “D-Daisy…” he rasped, holding her closer. “I had to do it… I had to…”
“N-no, you di-didn’t,” she coughed, a simple sentence nearly pulling her into unconsciousness.
“Yah… I did…” he said softly, never allowing his eyes to leave her as he applied slightly more force to her shattered being, the magic running through her bones petrifying the areas of her body that were a total loss. “If I told ya who Sam really was, ya would’ve run right to her. Ya would’ve wanted answers—how she was alive; what she was like… She never loved ya, Daisy… She never once took care of ya. I did. And… I ain’t lyin’ no more… What ya saw is true. I did kill her, but she… She would’ve ruined ya with her sin… The last one of us. I-I couldn’t let her do that… I didn’t care how. I’m sorry for the deception, but…” He sighed. “Sweetheart, I kept ya away from her ‘cause she be mentally unstable, and I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to kill ya to double-cross me like she done just did.” He raised his head and looked back to the branches that he had retrieved Daisy from—the twigs that were stained with blood, draped with pieces of skin, and coated in fragments of bone. “I am selfish…” He whispered. “And I was a wolf chasin’ my sheep… But… In the end… My prey was what I would done protect at all costs, no matter how I had to do it.”
Daisy did not want to hear it, slightly tilting her head away and wincing as Cecil continued to pass magic into her body. It was too much… All of this was. She couldn’t take it anymore…!
“Stop, Cecil…” she groaned, trying to shimmy away from him, but her body would not allow such. “Stop…”
“Stop what?” he asked.
“T-trying to save me…” she mumbled as Cecil continued to stretch his reach across her body with his magic. “You are only delaying death…”
His pupils thinned to the width of a string, Cecil abruptly standing up with his hold on his adoptive daughter remaining tight. His vivid green eyes clashed against the encroaching night, all frailty on his face replaced with that of a hardened warrior. “Never.”
“You can’t save me…” Daisy argued.
Cecil scowled, pushing Daisy against his chest to keep her where she was as he flimsily reached into the branches of the trees, whisking Sagey off of a fellow branch and tuck
ing it into the crook of Daisy’s curled arms. She blinked, confused, especially when she looked back up at Cecil, never seeing his face so solid or determined. “No, ya’re right; I can’t save ya—
“But yar father can.”
And in the darkness of the forlorn night, abandoning Sam’s ever-solid form, Cecil barricaded Daisy’s small, degraded body with his arms, racing through the accumulating snow back towards Phantome as fast as he could, knowing that unless he surrendered, unless he turned himself in, Daisy would never fulfill her destiny…
…And now, with time running out, he finally realized that this was no longer about him… It never was, even if that was how he always wanted to see it.
This entire mission, this entire w
orld… Everything was up to her.
Thirty-two
Muted
She leaned against the wall that afternoon, her arms crossed and head down as she stared out at the mess hall. Hundreds of Haxors were seated on sturdy silver stools rooted in place by ice, and thick sheets of metal acted as their tabletops, suspended by a cage of winter that spread out in such a way that it resembled veins. The Haxors ravenously dug into the human flesh on their plates, shoveling it into their mouths and laughing as they exchanged odious stories of those tortured today. Two Elites stood on each side of the many doors that granted access to the large room, their solidified faces fixed straight, closely watching the rambunctious soldiers at all times.
“Here’s your meal cube, Laelia!” Sybil peeped in a muffled voice, scrambling up Laelia’s shirt with the food held firmly in her small jaw.
Laelia looked down towards her neck. Sybil took the meal cube from her mouth and latched onto Laelia’s chest tightly, sticking her tiny arm up through the gap between Laelia’s neck and the shell of armor. Laelia opened her mouth wide and scooped the cube up with her tongue, grinning and relishing in the strength handed back to her.
“Thanks, Sybil,” Laelia said through a mouthful, returning her attention to the minions scattered before her. “You go ahead and eat now as well.”
“Yay!” In an instant, Sybil scampered back down into the most open region of the suit—the chest. Excited, she grabbed a small vial neatly nested in a set of brackets on the interior wall and gnawed away at the cork on top until she broke the seal. The moment that the aroma of blood hit her nose, Sybil cracked a cheeky grin, upturning the tube and swallowing the plasma with one large gulp.
“Careful,” Laelia gently warned her. “We’ve only got a limited supply of food.”
Sybil lowered her empty vial, her iridescent purple orbs evaluating the many, now empty, brackets. “Uh…”
Laelia’s gray eyes clouded over with disgust. “Sybil… Did you drink all of—?”
“No, no, don’t worry; it’s fine!” she stated quickly, shoving the casing of her most recent meal back into the electrified wall. She leaned back against Laelia’s chest, scanning their food supply one last time. “Uh, how many meal cubes were we given?”
Laelia bit her lip. “Five,” she grumbled, “and I’ve only had two because it’s only been two days.” She paused, debating whether or not to ask. “Why do you want to know?”
Sybil chuckled awkwardly, twiddling her thin lips with her long claws. “He… Hehehe…”
“How many did you eat?” Laelia asked through a hefty sigh.
“…Twooooooo…”
“What?!” she raged, snapping her gaze down instinctively and catching a glimpse of the lerial, who stared at her with wide, puppy-like eyes. “You had five vials to yourself! You’re telling me I only have one cube left?!”
Sybil giggled nervously, trying to disperse the tension.
Laelia scoffed, forcing herself to not act. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but Laelia could not remove one piece of her armor, going so far as to not even eat the food that was around here, because then she risked being exposed as a spy; she even had to be wary when relieving herself! In the long run, because she was the opposite sex of the reigning force, she probably was not the best pick for this mission, but her heart was one which no one could stand against—she would shine over all and prove her worth.
“Whatever,” she huffed under her breath. “Just flip the microphone back on, would you? We’re close to the center of the base. We need to move while our regiment is distracted.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Sybil squeaked obediently, immediately finding the appropriate switch. With a brief hiss of static, the communication wave between Laelia and the revolution was reopened.
I just hope that Griffin can stay off for once, Laelia thought to herself. For two days now, he had jumped on whenever possible, and Laelia was done. If he tried one more time, she was really going to give it to him when this was all over.
“Justus,” Laelia began, casually pushing off of the wall and proceeding towards a set of doors, acting like there was nothing wrong with what she was doing. “Are you there?”
“Vigilante, yes!” Justus answered quickly, the speakers popping in her ears as he readjusted his headset. “Are you prepared?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, her head held high and feet rolling smoothly across the ground in even, accurate steps. She looked straight ahead at all times. No Haxors took notice of her, and she made sure to not make eye contact with the Elites.
The Elites twisted their sharp grapples in their sculpture-like fingers, their solidified eyes never veering in Laelia’s general direction. Their icy lips were pulled straight, and their faces were tense, so when the steel doors slid apart for Laelia the moment she was near, she could not be more relieved.
The barriers closed smoothly behind her, Laelia immediately releasing the breath that she had been holding for dear life. A large, seemingly endless hallway extended before her feet. Weak fluorescents hung from above, frail bursts of electricity shooting between the circuitry in an effort to provide light to the large, empty stretch of space. The walls on either side of her were so close that her shoulders nearly brushed the ice walls, each footstep pulsing a lonely clunk through the air as she tread through the nerve-shattering base.
“This is hella creepy,” Sybil commented, smushing her face against the armor as she peered out of the one-way metal. “And that’s something coming from me given where I was raised.”
“It is,” Laelia agreed, her head rotating back and forth as she searched for anything unusual.
“There is no present danger; keep on moving forward,” Justus pressured.
Laelia obeyed, remaining silent as she continued on her journey. For what seemed like forever, the trail never changed. It was a single straight shot to wherever she was headed—there were no turn offs, no connecting tunnels… Not even a single twist. The buzz of static from the aged lights above constantly infiltrated the air, and very quickly, Laelia felt a headache coming on. Would it have been too much to have a decent light source considering their unmatchable power and wealth?
“Where could this possibly lead to?” Laelia asked herself, a chill settling on her shoulders.
“I don’t know, but the heart was supposed to be in this—” Sybil gasped, flattening her face like a pancake as she leaned forward as far as she could. “That!”
“Hm?” Laelia wondered.
“Up ahead!” Sybil pressed. “There’s the sky!”
Laelia focused in on the distance, trying to see exactly what Sybil did. Nothing became clear to her eyes for a moment—not until several snowflakes interrupted the identical scenery that she had previously been exposed to. They blew into the hallway at least a hundred feet away, passing by the old electrical system as they permeated what looked like a net of stone and metal.
Her heart racing, Laelia slightly picked up her pace, yearning to escape the close confinements. Without warning, her current surroundings began to merge with memories of her old home—she was not in a winter fortress but rather the marble walls of the palace that she had been trapped in nearly her entire life.
She began to run. Her ar
mor turned into a torn, white, blood-stained dress, her hair suddenly growing to its former length and regaining its blonde pigment. Smears of blood from her feet streaked the tile floors as she ran on, an archway of sunlight in the distance growing larger, closer, begging her to hurry and reach it before it was whisked away.
“Vigilante? What are you doing? Why are you running?”
Immediately, Rome dissolved, and the Palace of Revere became her shackles once more. Laelia skid to a frantic halt, throwing her arms out beside her and catching the edges of the wall just before she passed through the open archway.
She panted heavily, a trickle of sweat falling down her forehead as she caught her breath, hardly able to think. What… Was that?
“Vigilante?” Justus’ voice came again, now etched with suspicion.
“I’m fine,” Laelia assured him, though her shaking vocal chords said otherwise. “Just… A bit of a flashback there.”
“Laelia,” Flye’s voice suddenly rang in her ears. “It’s going to happen sometimes. You have to fight it, ok? Don’t let it interfere with your mission.”
Laelia swallowed, pushing the rising acid back into her stomach. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize; you can’t help it. Besides, the place doesn’t exactly have anything good tied to it. Just keep your head straight.”
“Understood,” she replied firmly, gathering the pieces of her distraught brain and rebuilding them into the solid stone structure that she was taught to have from birth.
She stepped out of the hallway and onto an enclosed bridge that connected two humongous towers of grimy, gray ice. The bridge was a commendable width, and it was clearly a much more traveled route, bustling with Haxors and Elites. They did not seem to be in a rush like usual, merrily strolling across the bridge that was suspended several hundred feet above the ground.