The Darkest Dawn

by Marc Mulero

  He roared, blunt sword flaming with Crule as he wound it, and swung at the hardened boy. Crow’s shirt was flapping in the wind, his fingers and slender muscular arms flexed to manipulate the forest further, to protect himself. Gritted teeth showed that the orphan wasn’t in control – he hadn’t expected the delicate boy to show such skill. A year of Kor did much for young Eres. Perhaps after all this, the Dawn would prove that he was worthy to dine after all.

  Crow’s face disappeared behind conjured bark and reappeared when Eres sliced through it. Another rooted spike emerged from the ground head on to impale Eres, but he leapt, clicked his impeller to a low setting, and leapt just enough to clear the spike and run up its base. He thought of his father – how Agden navigated through the air like he could stay afloat forever. That confidence flowed through him now, and he used it. With a Misty Flip off of the horizontal tree, he positioned his impeller on a downward angle, and with a gust of wind, blasted toward the orphan.

  Shouting, Eres activated Crule and flung his blade toward Crow’s chest. The orphan pivoted as expected, eyes on the weapon, and before he knew what hit him, Eres’ knees were in his stomach and hands wrapped around his throat.

  The two grunted as they clapped against the dirt, but Crow’s fist was first to find Eres’ face, sending the silky-haired boy sideways before rage brought him right back over him, hands squeezing the orphan’s windpipe.

  “You took everything from me!”

  Crow sporadically grabbed onto Eres’ arms to try and pry them off, then grasped dirt on the ground in panic and flung it onto his aggressor’s face. He sat up and shoved Eres backward, deep breaths sounding like he’d just came up from water after nearly drowning. Once panic subsided and he could function again, mocking laughter erupted.

  “Now you know what it feels like,” Crow rubbed his throat, “to have nothing.”

  Eres shot back up to his feet, and just as he was about to charge forward and tackle him, Crow snapped his fingers to conjure a flash fire – a wall that blinded him for the instant it existed, and only left swirls of smoke and a coughing Eres in its wake. He tried to wave the smolder from his face, blinked hard to stop the searing pain in his eyes, until finally he realized it. Crow was gone. He’d disappeared into the night.

  But that wasn’t all… the crushing guilt crashed into him to strangle him further.

  “Windel. I was so stupid. So very very stupid. Damn it!” He rummaged past the chaos left by Crow’s Reach, following the path of upheaved roots and soot, all the way back to his bag. “I hate him for doing this to me. I hate myself more for not seeing it. I was so blind to it all. How did it come to this?”

  There, on the floor, a dismantled UBS lay in pieces to symbolize his and Windel’s relationship in every way. By his own doing, no less. He couldn’t look at it without thinking of all that transpired between them. Now all he could do was hope, with every bit of him, that he could put both back together and salvage the beauty of what once was.

  The next minutes were spent scrapping and tinkering to reassemble it. Upon finding the last fragment, he took a deep breath, eager for it to work, and then clicked it in place.

  A dim light immediately flickered on, and the last messages that tickled him before he dismantled it in anger months earlier flooded the screen.

  “Eres, I’m sorry I forced my way into your ooma’s house. Did I get you in trouble?”

  “I thought we had a nice time, though. I guess I was wrong. ”

  “Aogav mu.”

  Eyes became bloodshot red at seeing the words, “Forgive me,” in Umboro. His throat instantly dried up. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was deceived, and not wise enough to see it until it was too late.

  Images of her tearful face in War Tech class and how he reacted so heartlessly to her pleas left a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach that hurt more than any blow that Crow could’ve dealt. How could he have been so cold? Dropping to his knees in defeat, he rested his forehead to the device in his hands, clinging to it desperately like it was an heirloom of a fallen kin, because he knew now, after a year of having her in his thoughts, that he loved her. Deep down he was aware of another truth too - that this course was for the best, because even if she liked him once upon a time, even a little bit, that it was a waste. He was a sexless barren, a Dawn, an imposter that belonged in the faraway lands that harbored his kind.

  Reality hurt, more so now that there was no reason to shun the beautiful girl here or in the first place. But tonight, it was Eres’ turn to cry. For all of his failures, shortcomings, deceptions, there was nothing left to do but curl toward the floor and surrender. His silky hair puddled over the dirt and shook as the waterworks flowed. He wished Crow was standing over him, ready to show mercy by ending his existence.

  Eres punched the ground to scold himself for having the thought. It seemed, at his lowest lows, when the idea of wishing for death came to fruition, he bounced back. It was shameful to be given life only to desire its end.

  When the swirl of emotion reached its peak, he bellowed. The sound was so loud and the pain so real that hlopes glided in trios away from his location. Fansas and bocktali could be heard fleeing. His arms fell lifelessly to the floor when he was done. Head fallen back, neck open and exposed. Life force drained. There, he sat for too long, numb, until the owins that were stumbling toward him earlier finally found their way back to him. They had the same round eyes and determination to find him even though he had abandoned them. Not at all offended that he swooped away earlier, they bunched up around the distressed boy and began licking his wounds once more.

  The movement snapped him out of his lethargic state of mind. He found sensation again in his limbs and pushed himself to sit cross-legged. Holding out open palms to welcome the round creatures, he almost smirked when they pushed and bobbed like baby pigs scrounging for food.

  “I wonder if Crow knows that the distractions he sends actually bring joy. I certainly doubt it.” Eres mussed one of their knobby heads and cuddled next to it.

  Eres sat in the moonlight for another few hours until he leveled out enough to face his ooma. He bid farewell to his tiny saviors and Dolseir itself before finally returning home.

  The next day Eres’ eyes were dry, joints ached, and a crescent moon-shaped scrape framed his left eye. He touched the rugged skin and thought to himself how it could’ve been worse.

  He’d been staring at his reassembled UBS device all morning, thinking of whether or not he should try and message her back. Yet after all this time, he knew there was only one way to make amends. Courage had to be mustered to face her in person. To apologize and hope that one day, not only would she forgive him, but things may eventually go back to the way they were.

  Eres slumped his head with dread, knowing it could never be. One way or the other, their connection would be different. Tainted. Distant. But he wouldn’t know for sure until he tried.

  As the hill was climbed, he rehearsed what he would say to her in their last War Tech class - how he would gently take her arm and pull her aside, explain his side of the story, and apologize that he had so little faith in his best friend, when she took a great leap of it by letting him into her life on Meeting Day.

  The scenario played out so gracefully in his head. He didn’t care that he was late to Kor, nor that he’d gotten one hour of sleep the night prior, because the only thing that mattered was getting through to his love. When the view of Vinsánce’s empty lawn came into sight though, his mouth slowly parted open in shock.

  He realized immediately that he may never get the chance to say anything to Windel ever again.

  Why?

  Because nearly one hundred black masked invaders had come.

  They rushed in such a disciplined, aggressive manner, that Eres nearly fell backward from the sheer sight of it. They were rushing mercilessly to enter the Elite Wing with weapons in hand… foreign, old weapons that he remembered Proctor Vasa showcasing on their first days in her arena. Guns –
the Eplon invention that was thwarted by Kovella and Ovar long ago, used only now against fools without Glite armor, only against innocent lives.

  “Who would attack a school? Why?” Eres stopped speaking to himself the second he heard the first bang of a gunshot echo from the main hall.

  Without concern for his own life, Eres dropped his belongings, clicked his impeller to the highest setting and aimed for the top tier window of the Practical Wing, to Wudon and Vasa, to get help and find Windel.

  Chapter 14

  Siege

  Eres soared high and fast, like his father taught him.

  Woosh. There he went, past the green pastures of Kor Grounds, over the crowd of soldiers piling into Kor Vinsánce. A blur. Some of them saw him, of course, cocking their plasmatic rifles that sounded like engines revving and swinging them overhead to see what it was. But they found nothing. He’d already disappeared, flying right into the circular window of the Practical Wing, where Herim Vasa nearly took off his head in one fell swoop as he touched down.

  “Eres!” She sheathed her weapons and eyed the impeller while grabbing the back of his neck.

  Keeper Decalus acknowledged the student’s dramatic entrance for an instant before swiftly resuming talks amongst the crowd of proctors gathered around. “Students are the number one priority. Reach tells us of more footsteps a mile out, another squad coming to prey upon the innocent. We will block them out, Wudon and I, while you eliminate the current threat. Once our Kor is clear, we will wait this out until Faction forces come to our aid.”

  Both of Wudon’s eyes were bright and focused on Eres. He had abandoned the darkness within his esper, for this atrocity commanded his full attention. The look given though, was one of murder. If there was a hint of pride that Agden’s kin was not a coward, the proctor didn’t show it. Instead, Eres knew what he was thinking - why would you charge head on into a threat when you could’ve fled?

  “What threat are we facing?” one of the Generations proctors asked.

  “Not known. We will ask such questions if we find the luxury to,” Decalus snapped. “All of you, gather students into toriums and defend them with your lives.” He then spun to Weapons Master Sturn and Herim Vasa. “You two, cut them down.”

  The revered warriors brandished their weapons in acknowledgement.

  “I’m coming with you,” Eres dared to speak, gazing up at his War Tech proctor.

  Wudon stomped his foot threateningly. Any other movement though would have given his position as ‘eye’ away, so he had to hope that his intimidation was enough.

  “I have to find Windel. I’ll give my life if I have to, with or without you!” Eres ignored the proctor’s warning.

  “Eres, there’s no time for this. We have a duty to keep you safe, first and foremost. I’m not letting you-” Vasa began before getting cut off.

  “With or without you,” he repeated evenly.

  She inhaled deeply, surely noticing the finality in his words, and without a doubt considered knocking him out there on the spot. But what if he woke up? The result would be the same, he would run off and head to save his classmate. And so she decided that he’d be better off in her care than on his own. “Very well. I’ve trained you for this, to survive, and you will do so by remaining in my line of sight, got it? Good. Come.” She signaled for them to depart.

  In the background, Decalus’ hair began blowing back from a conjured breeze, sparse golden braids rattling within a full head of white silk. He spoke ancient words of Umboro purely for concentration, his voice echoing like thunder in a storm. The room rapidly darkened as a tidal wave of branches began to swathe the Practical Wing like a stringy blanket.

  With his arms outstretched and trembling, he broke his incantation to direct his partner. “I will close them in. Wudon, use your Reach to reinforce my thin layer of roots. Focus on the entrances first.”

  Wudon tensed clawed fingers closed, one at a time. Eres imagined the front doors solidifying shut in each instance. Then the boy was off, flanking his proctor’s flowing robes.

  Herim Vasa leaned over the high ledge right outside of the room. Her head turned this way and that to count the threats, and when Eres rushed up beside her, he couldn’t believe his eyes. A sea of students loudly scrambled away from masked soldiers, as gunfire opened sporadically into the air to herd them.

  When Eres turned to his proctor, he realized that this was the calmest he’d ever seen her. She was stone-faced, calculating, before finally breaking away. “With me.”

  They moved quickly into an emergency corridor, away from the traditional spiral that would take them to the lower floors.

  “I’m not even going to ask you where you got that impeller, Eres, but I hope you know how to use it.”

  Vasa tossed him a circular disk that he’d seen his father use – compacted Glite armor. He knew exactly what to do. As he pressed the device to his chest and rotated the dial, what appeared to be metallic snakes crawled over his body and rounded his back, eventually forming into one cohesive suit of light armor.

  If only all of the other students were wearing these, this threat would already be handled.

  Herim then pulled a curved, two-foot blade from within her garnered cloak. The shimmering corset beneath it showed Eres that she was already prepared, as always. She looked up to the tip of the curved edge, and then down to its clear vial filled with Crule.

  “They’re using guns, on a school… can you even fathom the cowardice?”

  Eres shook his head before Vasa tossed him the weapon.

  “Nor can I. Let’s show them what we do to those who think they can invade our home…”

  Using flenos boots, she dashed down the steep ramps, her fanned out skirt flapping at her back. Eres kept up by activating short impeller bursts whenever he fell behind, conserving wind as best he could. His new gleaming armor of black and forest green sported the perfect colors to represent his identity, and the scimitar gave him the aura of a young Skrol warrior. Adrenaline and confidence were rising – just what he was going to need to save Windel.

  “My lessons got away from me… I never told you how Ovar Octanious’ story ended,” Vasa shouted.

  Eres looked perplexed, as if to say, “Now!?”

  “In a time when guns were the supreme weapon, and the Swuls were shamed, Ovar returned from Okabin. With the first true prototype of revolutionary protection completed and shared love with his former prisoner intact, he marched right into foreign territory to reclaim his honor, strapped with Glite armor, like you. Kovella stood tall at his side as he barged into an Eplon war chamber, his Swul brothers and sisters watching through broadcast.” She grunted in between sentences as she pivoted wildly down each staircase. “He brought a knife to a gunfight, Eres… and he won.”

  Vasa drew her two blades, evoking adrenaline that drummed Eres’ heart, and inspiration resurrected from within. He was reminded what she was, a Champion of the Colliding Spheres once upon a time. A hero.

  She skidded into a sharp turn and glided onto the second floor, under lavish archways that briefly muted her existence, and when she emerged, a flaming Crule sword came spinning midair. A burst of speed sent her almost as fast as her projectile. Knees bent, she retrieved the weapon the moment it impaled the terrorist, straightened, and was already using her other blade to guide the next intruder’s rifle to the floor. Wild gunfire tore into thick tiles at their feet before a blazing cross-slash seared deep from neck to stomach, making the enemy wilt on the spot.

  Eres’ breath grew erratic as he caught up to her side. This wasn’t like any dueling he’d ever witnessed, or even his fights with Crow. Brutal as they were, there was a viciousness here that transcended those instances. But he wasn’t frightened by it. He understood it. Their lives were at stake… her life was at stake. And so, when Vasa pointed for Eres to take the left flank while she took the right, he was already in motion.

  They burst into the torium at the proctor’s direction. Each forked onto opposite paths,
outlining the sea of students herded into a circle. Eres glimpsed endless horrified faces as his legs carried him - younger children on their bums and holding their knees, trembling in fear, while others comforted one another, few pushing past to see what was going on. Then, on his swift pass-through, a body sprawled on the floor made him stop dead in his tracks. His mouth hung open as he shoved a kid from his line of sight for a better look. A person was being cradled by a few, all of whom were trying to provide comfort, though it was all in vain, for she was already gone. His heart stopped when he realized who it was – a proctor’s assistant, the nicest of them all. Creela. Pale, expression of pain frozen on her face, legs contorted from an awkward fall, and a cover over her belly, where he suspected the fatal wounds still bled.

  So many thoughts cycled rapidly.

  She died because of some selfless act. And they made an example out of her, an innocent life, just to show that Kor Vinsánce was under their control, whoever they are.

  A flash of Seren Night’s long face, eyes shadowed by his wide-brimmed hat came into mind. There was so much about the Silent War that he didn’t know, and now he felt victim to it.

  Was he behind this savagery?

  A cry for help on the other side of the crowd made Eres snap out of the eternal second he stood watch. He shook his head free of shock.

  I’ll remember your kindness Creela, when you protected me from expulsion, and guided me on my first day here. I’ll defend your name now.

  Teeth gritted, impeller held tightly, he clicked the device and sped to the next threat.

  “Mustae, that could easily have been Windel doing something reckless. She would.” He cursed to himself while drawing his scimitar.

  Every twenty feet that Eres rounded, a visible burst of wind began turning heads. He was en route to thwart a tall unmasked woman who raised her plasma rifle in position to fire. Her victim was defenseless, arms protectively used to shield younger students behind him.