The Dark Materials

by Amanda Churi

  Daisy trembled, the tears running down her white cheeks as she stared at her fallen mentor with fluttering eyes. Angel… Guardian…

  …No way…

  Daisy sighed, her shattered body becoming comfortably warm in the snow. It… Made sense… That was her… That was who she was.

  She was the last guardian angel.

  “Daddy…” Daisy sobbed, blackness dawning into her eyes and preparing to take her with him. “H-help…”

  Kevin gasped, checking back into reality and shoving Cecil’s limp body away, freeing his child. Immediately, he threw his arms around her back, her blood flow rapidly increasing as Kevin pulled her into the safety of his chest. “H-hang on, honey,” he begged, his pupils shaking in horror as his fingers sank into the exposed flesh on her back. He pressed down slightly harder, focusing on keeping her alive and accessing his powers. No light came forth from his skin, however, and furthermore, he had no way of knowing if he was doing anything. “Hang on… We’ll go home and fix you.”

  “No…” Daisy moaned, her eyes heavy as she rested her cheek on her father’s shoulder. “The Returned… They’re with Reeve. They’re coming…”

  Kevin blinked in surprise, looking down at his slaughtered guard before turning his attention to Lucy, who had yet to move, continuing to stare at the person he had slain. The evil veins traveling from her symbol consumed most of her face… They had probably infected her heart by now. She had been such a shadow of her old self lately, but even so, the Returned? All of them, himself included? That couldn’t be so—he had known nothing.

  “DADDY!”

  He snapped his head back to his daughter, hardly having time to realize what was happening before he shoved Daisy against him, rolling across the ground just as a white rapier pierced the earth.

  Their tumble faltered out, the king’s eyes wide as he looked down the street.

  A Noble stood facing him only two dozen feet away, his body straight and visor closed. Reeve stood on one side of him, holding Tah tightly around the arm as she whimpered and looked at Kevin, begging for forgiveness. An Elite towered beside the runt, his build slightly broken and radiating a vile green energy that made him appear all the more frightening.

  And the Returned… Too many to count stood behind the leaders, all silent and resembling puppets that would not move until the order was given by the hand that fed them. Wicked smiles lined each face. Lips revealed snarls, growls rumbled in their throats, and their hands were curled, ready to steal the lives of any who threatened their survival.

  Reeve raised her free hand, pointing her open palm in Kevin’s direction, who immediately scrambled to his feet, dragging Daisy with him.

  “Five-second head start!” Reeve called out in a chilled, sinister voice. “It’s only fair that the weaker link gets a small advantage!”

  Kevin shook his head violently, the usual strength that he radiated nowhere to be found. This was really happening; he had been so blinded by everything happening lately that he was not prepared—he was less if anything. How could they win this?!

  “One.”

  Kevin quickly grabbed Daisy, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder, turning tail when he realized that Reeve was not playing around. She was ready to taste their blood.

  “Two.”

  Kevin bolted by Lucy, neglecting their relationship status and putting his faith in her. He locked his free hand around her arm as he rushed past her, refusing to let go as he half-dragged her in the direction of the palace.

  “Three. Four.”

  The Returned crouched, preparing to charge as each of their eyes took on the appearance of ice.

  Kevin could not breathe. This was it. This was the battle that had been building for months, and now, they could not fight.

  They could only run.

  “FIVE.”

  Thirty-four

  Haunted Hearts

  “LAELIA! Come on, come on! Answer us!”

  “Griffin! It’s not going to work! Stop it!”

  Justus threw his arms around Griffin’s waist as he smashed his hands against the keypad, slamming any button in sight, desperate to re-establish the call that had been transpiring between the two only a minute ago. Tears were pouring from his eyes, and his face was ablaze with grief and desperation. His pupils shook, and he could hardly catch his breath through his heart-wrenching cries, refusing to let Justus drag him away from the control panel.

  “Griffin! Calm thyself!” Embry squeaked, though she never got up from her seat to assist her master.

  “She’s going to die!” Griffin shrieked gravely. “Typo is going to kill her! We need to help her! We need to get over there now!”

  “Flye!” Pinion called harshly, immediately catching the attention of the rebel who had been glued to the seat, her eyes reflecting the screen of static.

  Flye threw out her chair from behind her, the purple streak in her hair emitting violent purple sparks. “Y-yes, queen?” she asked, her voice drained of all confidence as she gave her successor a shaky salute.

  Pinion bore no expression as she called on her most trusted assassin, not even anger for the sudden, dire turn of events. Her eyes did not rest on her warrior; she could only stare at the destroyed video call as she held herself high, determined to keep any and all emotions hidden. “Go back,” she ordered dryly. “Wait for her.”

  Flye’s black eyes lightened in hope. “You think she’s alive?”

  Pinion grunted. “Only time will tell… But I wouldn’t doubt her capabilities. Go now.”

  Not wanting to waste a second more that could be the difference between life and death for our friend, Flye dipped her head once before bolting past Pinion and through the open metal doors, praying that Laelia would be there when she arrived.

  “How could she survive an attack against him?!” Griffin continued to argue, Justus finally managing to yank him away from the machinery before pulling Griffin down onto his lap so that he sat on top of him in his seat. Griffin continued to thrash, but his endurance was faltering as Justus squeezed the air out of his lungs. “I—S-she’s my best friend! I-I threw it away! I threw it all away for nothing!” Griffin squirmed to face Justus, his eyes on fire. “It’s your fault! You and your stupid sexual preference did this!”

  Justus flinched; Griffin’s words plunged a knife into his heart.

  And just as quickly as it pierced him, he grabbed the hilt and turned it back around.

  In an instant, Justus threw Griffin to the floor, not caring an ounce when he nearly broke his face on the stone. Griffin groaned painfully, blood pouring from his nostrils as Justus loomed above him, a thunderstorm brewing in the depths of his eyes as he glared at his apprentice, hatred fueling every region of his body that it could conquer.

  Mabel and I hurriedly took a step back, making sure to distance ourselves from the warring males; no one else interfered either, letting Justus have at it. I would not defend Griffin; his remark was downright uncalled for, especially considering that he chose to accept Justus’ display of affection. Targeting a point as fragile as that was beyond rude; it was coldhearted—a trait that he had been displaying more lately.

  Griffin cringed on the floor, strenuously rolling over onto his back. Immediately, Justus slammed his foot down on Griffin’s gut, knocking his breath away and pinning him to the floor, forcing Griffin to look him in the eye.

  “Please, enlighten me, Griffin,” Justus reprimanded him through a harsh, righteous snarl, “on just what you think of my preference.”

  Griffin was terrified, saying nothing and thus giving Justus the rite of passage to continue. “Tell me…

  “Do you see the boy lying there as he takes his first breath of blue air because God forbid he prefer the color pink? Do you see the boy sitting there, reading about that all-loving Lamb in that Book with red ink written in his own blood? Do you see the boy learning there, that lesson with every cut from that word, that it is safer to be a coward and a hypocrite than an outspoken f
aggot? Do you see the boy cringing there at that three-letter word—that dirty word that is his own identity? Do you see the boy dying there, the noose tightening around the burden he believes himself to be?”

  He leaned down, sharply grabbing Griffin by the collar of his shirt and lifting his neck slightly off of the ground while Griffin lay there, horrified by the passion and sincerity behind the beautiful, heart-tugging words coming from such an unexpected person.

  “And so, I ask you again: do you see me standing here, scared but proud, and always trying to be myself in a world in which I am scorned? If not me, then what is it that you see: a freak? A dirty word? A limp wrist? A sinner? A cynic? A disorder? A nobody?”

  With an enraged hiss, he pushed Griffin’s neck back to the ground, removing his foot while taking a wary, overwhelmed step back. “I am more than a word, a label, or an idea of what it means to be me. I am human; I am flesh, and I am blood. I live, I breathe, I die, and I intend with every breath of my life to live solely as myself…

  “Because binaries are for computers, roles are for actors, and my life is not defined by that which your eyes refuse to see.”

  Griffin did not speak; he had no argument or comment. In fact, none of us really did. No one moved for an eternity, the only sound in the room being Justus’ labored breathing as he tried to recuperate from the large expulsion of truth in his heart that had broken free of its cage.

  “…Would you like some ice for that burn?” Mabel asked with wide eyes.

  I snapped my neck towards her, hardly believing that she had the audacity to say that. “Mabel!”

  “What?!” she exclaimed, raising her pitch to evoke innocence.

  “He needs a whole goddamn avalanche,” Virgil snickered, finding Mabel’s comment to be amusing despite the seriousness of the conversation.

  Justus sharply looked to Virgil, the edges of his eyes brimming with hate, though Virgil did not back down. Disgusted, he veered his eyes to Mabel next before throwing his arms down and storming off down the hallway, retreating to the safe haven of his workshop where he could not be judged.

  Pinion sighed, turning away from us without saying a word and taking her leave as well. I guessed that she was just about done with all of us; after all, Mabel and I weren’t exactly helping disprove her theory that we weren’t the legendary prophets due to all of the issues we seemed to cause.

  I narrowed my eyes, scowling as I looked at Mabel. Why did her filter never seem to work?

  She must have known what I was thinking. “Hey,” she said, holding her hands beside her head. “It’s not my fault that anything went down between them.”

  “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help,” I pushed, slightly irritated.

  She twisted her lips uncomfortably, looking down at her feet. “Sorry…”

  I sighed, silently forgiving her but refusing to voice my opinion aloud. Had I not still had feelings for her, even though I was highly beginning to question why I still felt anything at all, I probably would have smacked her down to the ground for her stupidity. Still, after my most recent violent episode and seeing the damage that it caused, I would never allow myself to get that angry ever again; I wouldn’t even let myself get close.

  I turned back to the large screen, focusing on the static and the flashing gray hues as I recalled the last sight I had of Laelia.

  I could almost feel the energy rising through the screen from Typo’s eyes… Those dark, deceptive, murder-hungry eyes lurking behind her as he picked out she who did not belong… The glare that he shot into her back camera, smiling deviously and revealing his ghostly fangs before at once, Justus’ speakers and cameras began to malfunction, tearing our friend away.

  I did not know if she survived whatever happened next… Or how she could for that matter. Typo was vicious and knew no mercy, just like all of the Proxez. They wouldn’t spare her, and if they did, it would be in Laelia’s best interest to just let go rather than endure whatever they planned.

  A groan of guilt seethed in my throat, and I quickly pressed my chin to my chest to try and dismiss it. If I hadn’t triggered Typo… Hadn’t made eye contact… Maybe Kaitlyn would be dead, but Laelia… She would still be her old, complaining self, gloating about her perfection and worth, while calling us idiots and testing our limits with those slick, taunting, brilliant eyes.

  And oddly enough, I would have given nearly anything to bring the old her back.

  The demons within cackled with joy as they tore open the wounds that made my body—wounds that never seemed to have a chance to heal. Why was I cursed…? Why? What could I have possibly done to deserve my gift?

  “I… I need some air…” I said grimly, refusing to meet the suspicious eyes that immediately turned on me.

  Mabel raised an eyebrow in concern. “Why?”

  “I just do,” I replied simply.

  Mabel took a step closer to me, resting her hand on my head like a mother. “Are you sure that you feel ok? You’re a little warm, and you look a bit peached.”

  “Mabel, I’m fine.”

  Her face told me that she didn’t buy my story. “But…” She scoffed, shaking her head and placing a hand on my lower back. “Just sit down for a moment, ok?”

  I huffed, exasperated. My gosh, if ever the stars aligned and I was with her forever, I could just imagine her pestering our children like this if they so much as scratched their face the wrong way.

  The moment that I registered what ran through my head, I quickly stepped back. Where the heck had that come from?

  I stared at Mabel in dumbfoundment as she reflected my own puzzlement like a mirror. For a moment, I was lost in a world of memories. I could perfectly envision the first glance that I ever took of her—the shackles around her wrists and ankles as she was led off to be executed, her beautiful brown eyes recognizing my face and begging for help. I remembered her irrational arguments and bursts of random energy. I could feel her in my arms as we danced that night in the pub, and I could feel the lava in my lips as I replayed our first kiss…We had endured hell in this altered future, and even now, as our relationship continued to morph into one filled with questions, suspicions, and certainly doubts, she was still there, looking after me like she had always done.

  My mind began to fill in the blanks… All that I could have one day given her had I not ruined the world around us: a beautiful long white gown and a bouquet of magical white roses; eyes lined with radiant copper and rich chocolate instead of startling crimson; a face free of both scars and a mask, with a real smile lining her lips.

  I saw myself placing a ring on her finger; my hair was free of gold, and my eyes were a clear, bright blue—not a single characteristic to make you think that I was anything but normal. I danced with her, carried her like a princess, and watched the stars rise and fall as we cuddled in the vast fields, my mind at rest without a worry plaguing even the most rural areas. There were children… Many beautiful children that were breathtaking combinations of us, running about in a future where they could be free and actually enjoy childhood. We were happy… So, so happy…

  And I took every chance of that away.

  I clenched my fists tight, trying to keep all of my negative emotions at bay as I tensed my neck so hard that it began to ache. “I need to think,” I muttered, hardly able to get the words out.

  Keeping my head down low, I pushed past Mabel, who could not be more confused by what was happening to me. I shoved my thin hands into my pockets, my acute, deadly nails nearly ripping through the fabric as I trudged out of the room with my demented golden tail dragging in tow.

  Tears beaded at the corners of my eyes as I made my way down the hallway. Why did I always screw things up? Why couldn’t I have just had a normal life and future; why did I have to keep fighting for my life, while I destroyed so many in the process? Why was I even staying here any longer? My life had nothing left to offer. Maybe I was not useless like Calla originally told me, but she still had part of it right: I was the ultimate pawn
for evil at its core, but I could never be of assistance to anyone or anything good.

  “Eero! Hold up!”

  I didn’t want to listen; I hardly even heard her through my scattered mind, but I did, and for some reason, I obeyed. Hunching my shoulders forward, I turned back to face whoever was approaching me, which surprisingly turned out to be Seek.

  She ran until she caught up to my current location, a bit dazed by her sprint. Her gray-white eyes were not as iridescent as they used to be, and even her form seemed to be a bit fainter; it was as though her spiritual side was overthrowing the human within and gradually becoming her permanent form.

  “I want to give you this,” she told me in a hushed voice, reaching into the pocket of her pants before pulling out an empty glass vial and extending it in my direction.

  Cautious, I took it from her hand, turning it over and inspecting it. There was literally nothing in it from what I could see. “What is this for?”

  She smiled, but it was forced, much like the last time that she pulled me aside. “It’s some souls.”

  Suddenly, my eyes flashed a gaudy gold, and I gasped when I noticed the white wisps circling inside the container, chattering in frightened, sharp voices as they looked back at their old master. I only saw them for a second before the light in my eyes died out, my Essence dragging me out of the Spirit World and placing my feet on the corrupt Earth once more.

  My jaw dropped in surprise as I looked over what appeared to be an empty vial once more.

  Seek chuckled, her laugh parched and abrasive. “You’re getting more of a hold on the Spirit World,” she told me, catching the source of my vexation. “They’re learning to trust you with more information since they can see that, well… You’re good.”

  My nearly invisible smile was shot down. I clutched the tube tightly, looking up at Seek with flustered eyes when I realized what she was doing. “Seek… Why are you giving me your souls?”