by T. C. Edge
The temple is lit, torches flickering so warmly upon the walls. The light is so pleasant, so appealing.
It's nothing compared to what lies ahead.
They sit in their simple thrones, two figures of white light, awaiting us as we walk towards them. Their glow seems to accompany me now, an almost constant blanket for my heart and soul. That feeling, that profound feeling of joy when I first encountered them, when I first thought of them after our initial meeting, has now smoothed out into a deep devotion, a constant light in the darkness to guide me, only flickering and going out on occasion, as my mind breaks through, my memories resurface...
I step toward them, my hand clasped gently to the handsome man by my side. I sneak a look at him, and see his brown eyes staring forward, a bright look of wonder within them. I smile at that look, almost envious of him. This is his first encounter with them. It is an experience that will stay with him, always.
We approach gently, our feet tapping softly on the marble floor, the faces of the Prime clearing as we near. Their perfection is almost daunting, their lips split wide and teeth gleaming like pearls, eyes like stars twinkling in the night. I look at them and see something beyond this world, something celestial, something divine.
How, I wonder, as though seeing them for the first time. How can they be this perfect...
The query sparks a memory, though it doesn't come clear. A memory of age, of withered frames, of death creeping up from the shadows. It draws a slight frown to my face, just a micro expression that doesn't last. I don't want this moment spoiled by one of my temporary recollections. What would be the point, when it's only going to fade anyway?
I cast it aside, and stride onward, stepping before them with Marcus by my side. He wears black, like the Heralds of War, a pleasant match for my grey. It suits him. It suits him so very well.
A silence takes root, as we stand there, the Prime sitting before us, their eyes gently inspecting. Marcus, in particular, comes under their gaze. They look at him for a long while, before nodding and turning their eyes to the side. Their movements, as always, are performed in unison, though not quite as perfectly synchronised as before.
I blink the thought away and turn to the side, where the Overseer stands in navy blue and yellow robes, hands clasped behind his back as he stares right at the Prime. They look at one another for a protracted moment, exchanging information through the Overseer's telepathy. Then, together, the Prime turn to look at us once more. And once more, they nod.
"It is done," the Overseer says, stepping over to us briskly, his heels clip clopping on the marble floors as he comes. "They agree with my initial assertion about you both." He smiles. "You make a fine pair. Brains, and brawn. A perfect balance to help guide our future path."
Marcus's lips split into a grin as he looks at me. I respond in kind, though feel an echoing unease calling into the darkness of my mind. I try to turn inward, to let it breathe, but the Overseer steps ahead of me, his touch drawing my eyes back up.
A keen gaze awaits me. "How do you both feel?" he asks, staring at me, then looking to Marcus. "Well rested? Strong?"
"Strong," nods Marc, tensing as he stands there. His newly unlocked potential has seen him go to another level over the past day or so. Rumour has it, he may even overcome Avon in skill, speed, and endurance now, all gifts that the newly appointed Chief Herald of War possesses in an abundance beyond all others in the city. Only Gailen, perhaps, stands as more powerful than Avon and Marcus. It is so nice to see my friend blossom like this.
Friend, comes a thought. He will be more than friend to you, Brie.
"Strong," repeats the Overseer, demanding my attention once more. I look up into his smiling, gleaming eyes. "You will need to be strong in the days to come, Marcus. Both you of you will be."
Marcus's posture stiffens even further. "We will be, Master Overseer. We will be whatever you need."
"Whatever I need?" He purrs the words, nodding slowly. "Good. Because now, I have a very important mission for you."
An excitement takes possession of Marcus's body. "Of course. Anything. Just give me a target, sir."
"Your target, Marcus, is Brie. She must be protected at all times. Do you understand?"
"I will do anything for her," he says. "I will die for her if I need to."
"Loyalty," hums the Overseer. "Devotion. They are such important traits." He raises a renewed grin. "But you will not be dying today, nor any time soon. Come with me, both of you. Let me show you the way."
I find myself surprised when he turns towards the rear of the temple, rather than moving for the main entrance at the front. He begins guiding us onwards, passing by the Prime, who sit still in their seats, slowly turning their heads to follow our movement as we step past the stage, and behind them.
"So few people ever come back here," the Overseer says, his voice filling the great hall. "It is a secret that only the Prime, and myself, know of. Now, both of you have that honour too."
I glance back to the stage once more, and see that the Prime continue to watch us leave. Their faces are no longer smiling, but blank. I see a strange weariness in their eyes, their posture not quite so perfect, their glow dimming a little to my eyes.
They look...tired, I think. As if they begin to deflate when not on show...
"Do not be troubled, Brie..." My eyes swing back around. The Overseer is looking directly at me. "They will be just fine, fear not."
"I..."
"You have other things to think about, child," he goes on. He steps toward me, gently pushing me forward toward the rear of the temple. "Come, the night is already upon us, and you have much to do. Do not spare energy on unnecessary thoughts."
His words calm my curious mind, and I follow on after him, Marcus once more taking my hand. We reach the rear, the walls climbing high towards the dramatic ceiling, statues and carvings forged into the corners. There, I see a set of steps moving down beneath the temple itself. Below, a gentle light issues, pale and soft and artificial.
We're led down those steps, the air growing closer as we go, the sounds of our footsteps no longer echoing around the sprawling space, but dying abruptly amid the tight stone walls. I feel a shiver of cold, reaching a corridor a couple of storeys down, built into the plateau itself. Gradually, the white stone aesthetic is taken by another, a silver door appearing at the end. It looks so out of place here, a modern embellishment within an ancient world. I look at that door and know immediately what it is.
"An elevator," I say. "But...where does it go?"
The Overseer smiles and steps toward it. There is a panel on the front. He plants his palm to it, and it performs a quick scan. A light hums green, and the door emits a hiss of air.
It opens up before us.
"Step inside, children," he says. "Do not be afraid."
Marcus leads the way, drawing me in with his hand gripped to mine. My eyes gaze around, searching the simple space. I've seen elevators like this so many times before, the city where I grew up full of them. But I never expected to find one here, hidden in the depths of the Temple of the Prime. It seems incongruous, but really it shouldn't be. Olympus may hold the appearance of an ancient city, a merging of many cultures of the past, but at its heart it is a modern marvel. The city runs on technology that, mostly, remains hidden to the eye.
"It's an escape route," Marcus says, looking to the Overseer with a question in his eyes. "For the Prime to flee should the city come under attack?"
The Overseer lets out a grin. "That is part of its purpose," he says, as the elevator begins to fall. It glides smoothly, falling floor after floor at great speed. I lose track of distance as it descends deep into the earth, a tunnel built right through the heart of the hill.
"And the other part?" asks Marcus lightly, his bright brown eyes glowing within the pale light. "Do the Prime live down here, when they are not in the temple?"
"The Prime come down here, yes," the Overseer says. "But they do not merely live down here, Marcus." He gr
ins again. "They were born down here."
My eyes widen. "They were...born here?" I ask, stunned by the revelation. The Overseer has always been so mysterious, so guarded with the information he reveals. And details about the Prime have been almost impossible to come by.
I look at him and wonder, why the sudden honesty? Is it a trick, or something sincere?
"While we're down here," the Overseer goes on, noting our reactions. "I see no harm in explaining to you something of the Prime's origin."
I grip tighter at Marcus's hand, as the elevator begins to slow. It allows the Overseer a dramatic pause as the doors hiss open, revealing an spacious hall beyond. The place feels deep, a long way beneath the earth. I get the sense that we've sunken not only through the hill, but beneath the city itself, down into some grand subterranean space that feels so...ancient.
"What is this place?" Marcus breathes, similarly awed as me as we step into the hall. It's built of stone, but old, the walls chipped and discoloured in places. I smell a suspicion of mould and damp, and even spot some green growth in one corner, a few industrious weeds and roots managing to break through the cracked stone wall.
"This is where the Prime were born," the Overseer says, stepping into the open space, his words reverberating upon the walls. "Or, I should say, this is where they were made."
His eyes turn toward a short tunnel, opening into another chamber beyond. It looks even older than the hall in which we stand, an ancient laboratory of sorts, vines and tangled plants coiling around broken rubble. I can see lab equipment in there, strange glass chambers, smashed and broken, largely hidden under collapsed walls, the ceiling badly caved in. A couple of others remain intact, their glass fronts stained and only lightly cracked. And a third. I see a third...
My eyes turn back to the Overseer, widening, suddenly realising what I've always suspected.
"You," I say, breathing out the word. "You were born here too."
His eyes stare into that old laboratory, turning distant for a moment, full of memory. When he next speaks, his voice is small, spoken so quietly. It feels older than ever, its energetic coating gone, cracked and broken like the room he gazes into.
"This place is hundreds of years old, children," he says, looking on, his face so old and sombre. The youthful shine is drawn away, like a brightly lit valley, suddenly hidden beneath the coming clouds. "It was built to be a new start. A new start for a world at war." He nods slowly. "We were three among many. When the place collapsed, only we survived."
"You," whispers Marcus. "You're...like them?" He frowns. "Siblings?"
"Of a kind," whispers the Overseer, his voice seeming to lighten a little. "We were designed to be a new breed of human, of Enhanced," he adds, looking at me, "as you might call us Brie." His eyes gaze around again. "This laboratory was intended as the birthplace of something new, something better, a bunker to protect the world's history." His eyes move, turning the other way. I see another chamber affixed to this main hall, partially collapsed as well, but mostly intact. There are tall data cabinets and storage units, stretching into the distance.
"A depository," I say. "A storage facility for information."
"Indeed," says the Overseer, smiling at me fondly. "Much of the history of this world remains, stored here within our vaults. The rise and fall of nations. The wars that killed so many." He shakes his head, and sighs. "We built this city to honour those old cultures, to preserve them, keep them alive. We did so on the site of our creation, our birth, to be the centre of the new world we hoped to design."
"But...all this talk of divinity," I say, so confused, so surprised. "The Prime...they are gods..."
The Overseer lifts a smile. "There are no gods, Brie," he says. "Not here."
"But..."
"But the people need something to follow, to praise, something to give their lives purpose and hope. That is the intention, the entire design of the Prime. Together, we created a world of peace and service, a world where everyone has their place. Now, we will take it to the rest of this continent, and the world beyond." He looks at me with that, a deep expression on his face. "We shall do it...together."
A silence collapses upon us, my mind searching for more questions that struggle to manifest on my tongue. I feel the weight of a grand purpose beginning to drown me, as though this is a fate that has been expected of me for so long. A fate that I couldn't escape, even if I wanted to.
"How old are you?" comes a whispering question, issuing from Marcus's lips, drawing back my focus. He looks on at the Overseer in wonder, hardly able to fathom what he's hearing. "You must be hundreds of years old?"
The Overseer lifts a grin that flies in the face of that assertion. "Age is but a number, Marcus. I was blessed with long life, a purpose of our creators. I don't know how long I have left, but I feel as energetic as ever."
Marcus smiles, shaking his head. "And the Prime? They look so young. How can that be?"
I get another flash in my head. An image of the Prime, sitting ancient in their chairs.
"Things are not always as they seem, child," the Overseer says, his face angled hawkishly. "Sometimes the eyes see things that are not there...if the mind tells them so."
Marcus's face falls into a frown. "So...they don't actually look like that?" he asks.
The Overseer shakes his head. "Oh no," he tells him. "They appear only as I want them to be seen."
I look at him, awestruck by it all, so surprised by this sudden reveal. "Why?" I ask him. "Why are you telling us this?"
He turns to look at me, staring for a moment before answering. "Because all our destinies are now entwined," he says, as though I should already know. "The Prime's foresight predicted your coming, child. Now you will take us into a whole new world."
I stare at him, still not fully understanding, as Marcus steps again to my side. I feel his hand taking mine again, and turn to look up at him. He smiles so warmly at me, and leans in to give me a kiss. A part of me rallies against it, calling out 'no'. But despite it, I feel powerless to resist.
"Such a handsome couple," the Overseer goes on. "So perfect." He grins, returning to his usual form. "Now come, this is a detour only. You still have important work to do."
He turns off, continuing through the chamber, through another locked security door - only openable via a scanner that reads the Overseer's specific hand-print, and possibly more besides - and down a long tunnel ahead. My mind busies itself with a thousand thoughts and questions, but nothing seems to rise on my lips, nothing breaks the silence as we wander on, pace after pace, the metres seeming to turn to miles as we venture into the long, cold darkness.
"This tunnel," the Overseer explains, "takes us far beyond the city, into the hills on the western flank. It is a route only accessible by the Prime, and myself, though hasn't been utilised for many, many years."
"Does it go out beyond the blockades?" Marcus asks, referring to the camps set up around the city by the Havenite and Neoroman forces.
"Oh yes," comes the Overseer's reply. "Far beyond those lines."
We reach an intersection, where the tunnel converges with another. I look back and see another long, black corridor of rock heading off in a different direction, seemingly in the direction of the city.
"Where does that lead?" asks Marcus, similarly as curious as me.
"It is another route to the city," the Overseer explains, though doesn't tell us exactly where it ends up. "It is known by only a few, only used in rare circumstances. Today is one such occasion."
We continue onwards, for what seems like another ten or fifteen minutes - though I can't be sure - walking at a brisk pace that, despite his advanced years, doesn't unduly affect the Overseer. I find myself marvelling at him, at all he's revealed. He looks only into his seventies, perhaps, but is several times that age. And the Prime...
I think again of how I perceived them once, when I flashed into their minds, and got a glimpse of their true appearance, crippled by age and time. It's the very reason why
they are so rarely seen, their powers used so sparingly. They are dying, I think. They are not long for this world. And the Overseer...he is the one who makes them appear as they are. It is his manipulations that have built this legend.
And me? Me and Marcus? Are we, now, to become their replacements?
I find myself smiling at that thought, as my mind fills with recent memories of the legions before me, kneeling, bowing, calling out and praising my name. It has all been for me, to make me known to the people, to give them a chance to love and adore me. The Herald, the Mother, who has awakened them, strengthened them, come here to save this people and this city. To usher in a new age of peace.
All in the name of the Prime.
In the name of...me.
Light begins to appear ahead, faint, the soft glow of the moon. The air begins to freshen, blowing down the tunnel. I see a set of steps, leading to a small, grated opening above, through which the soft light and purging air glides through. And at the foot of those step, four soldiers wait, draped in the darkest of blacks, hardly visible in the gloom.
They stand firm as we approach, lining up in their sleek armour. They are not Heralds, nor soldiers I've seen before. Elite troops, no doubt, selected for a specific mission, their eyes flat, detached, almost reminding me of the Stalkers back home.
The Overseer steps up to them, as Marcus and I take to his flanks. He looks over them, one by one, staring deeply into their icy eyes.
"You know your orders," he says to them. "You will protect Brie at all times, under the command of Marcus." He turns to look at the Neoroman, as the soldiers dip their heads into tight, affirmative nods. "Protect her, Marcus," he says. "See her come to no harm. That is your purpose now. To protect her, and love her. It will be your life's work."
"She will be safe, Master Overseer," Marcus says. "You have my word."
"And I trust it, as I do you," he says. "You have some distance to travel tonight. Do so silently, and secretly. You will help turn the tide of this war for us."
He nods to the soldiers, who march up the stairs, open the grid, and step into the cold night.