The young medic traveled to the Dusk.
He risked everything he had to find answers. Growing up, Rustam had told him tales of fragments in the darkness that could enable a person to develop abilities that were not of this world. One such item was a book—or a Tome belonging to a group of written text fabled to bestow extraordinary power. However, it was also said that such fragments were capable of causing madness and, in some cases, a swift death. Amour sought one of these tomes in order to learn any secret he could use to avenge his honor.
And thus, he traveled for months through a cold, empty desert belonging to an abyssal outflowing of the Dusk. With boundlessly grey skies overhead, Amour starved and struggled to find any drinkable water. In fact, most of what he did find to imbibe from small streams and strange, liquid-filled flora poisoned him while dehydrating his body further. Despite the ongoing battle for his life, Amour continued to keep seeking someone or something that could guide him but soon succumbed to weakness after some time. Perhaps a higher power looked down on Amour and decided to show him mercy, if that's what one could call it. While on the cusp of passing away, Amour began to pray fervently to the land. He chose to speak directly to the Dusk itself and continued to ask for his desires as his will to live withered.
When he’d finally resigned himself to his fate, Amour noticed that an old Tome was suddenly at his side. With all the effort he had to give, Amour opened the ancient text and began to absorb a type of Knowledge not intended for this world. He received a manifestation of what would come to be known as the “God Mark.”
A manuscript, with writing formed from sentient atoms arising from a much deeper realm and older than time itself, imparted Knowledge to Amour before he lost his life, and this Knowledge triggered a sudden rebirth. Amour soon found himself equipped with a stronger reserve of energy while remaining close to the clutches of death. He wandered for some time before finding a fugitive who’d suffered the same fate. The dying man noticed Amour and begged for the young man to kill him. Amour refused, and the man attacked, accidentally forcing the boy to utilize far too much of his new power. Amour beat the fugitive to death and soon discovered a much darker secret about himself.
He longed to see the human body arranged, to see perfect symmetry, and to reform what he believed was the fractured figure of man…
Amour devoured the fugitives body and, upon finishing, recovered all previous strength with the addition of a well of power from which he could draw. His body’s musculature had become remarkably denser, although he was still quite frail, and he suddenly appeared healthier than he’d ever in his existence. Amour believed that he could do anything and, for a time, began roaming across the landscape with what seemed like everlasting endurance while scavenging for corpses of other humans that he found.
He spent some time lost in the demonic wilderness and reverted to his more bestial nature. Amour hunted and nourished himself whatever way he could, but his desire to devour and manipulate the bodies of humans only increased as he grew in strength. Despite his remarkable growth, one evening he was beset by a tribe of demons who were able to see something in him that only their kind could see. They said unto him that he contained a “pure darkness” they had never witnessed and that intrigued them greatly. Not every bearer of the God Mark consumed their own kind, and still fewer possessed the hatred carried fiercely by the former medic.
The leader of their clan took Amour under his wing and confessed that the boy demonstrated an unquenchable lust for chaos, a lust that outmatched his own and greatly impressed the demon elder. And thus, the clan decided to train Amour in tactical guerrilla operations: raids, ambushes, proper maneuvers for retreat. He became somewhat skilled in the basics of nomadic combat, but the focus shifted to become entirely about his own powers; abilities lying dormant and would remain undisturbed unless Amour reached into his past to find what was holding him down. These demons, like many others, had formed a clan known for training effective hunters that operated on the outskirts of the Dusk. The demon elder of the clan saw potential in Amour but eventually ordered him to admit to the secrets buried his own history.
--
The Ark, a title describing a “Demon Elder” in the language of the Unaer’e Demons, towered over Amour—who’d become much more toned while growing into the role of being a member of the clan. He bellowed to the former medic: “You will disclose the items in the past that are affecting your growth, as you are a member of a family of champions!”
Amour searched deep within himself, drawing from an untouched pool of rage and glaring psychological trauma. While he’d traveled the Dusk alone, a wandering figure who’d became notorious for murdering anything remotely human on the borders of the land, Amour had effectively blocked out the memories of his capture and subsequent molestation. But when he was forced to think upon it all himself, the young man's insanity peaked. The Ark retrieved a mirror and handed it to Amour, who stared back at his reflection to see that half of his face had been paralyzed during a stroke for which he’d not been completely conscious.
“Whenever you found that Tome—that Fragment of Truth, you most likely lost control of your senses. The Fragments are myriad; they spawn and are endlessly scattered across the globe since the gate opened that merged our worlds. People discover them with no higher knowledge and often suffer extensive injuries—injuries looking very similar to your own. Feeble, repressed human, your mind attempted to grasp far ahead of its own progress; therefore, you were damaged while at the same time being blessed with the opportunity to be reborn.”
“Reborn?” Amour asked.
“When you remove the speck from thine eyes, you shall become yourself; a destiny meant for only the darkest of men… men who have suffered the other face of Fate, a cold, unrelenting visage of malice. For you to inherit true power and bring glory to the Tribe, you must undo what was done to you.”
--
One night, after years of searching, Amour located both his “father” and the man who’d sexually violated him. High Lieutenant Jeles McGarnes and Doctor Rustam had both been stationed within a new super battalion belonging to Wanre's growing military. Wanre would later go on to be conquered, divided once more, and renamed as part of modern day Gaspul.
This battalion consisted of two forces branded as the Strikers and the Valor. The Lieutenant belonged to Valor while Rustam had become a well-respected field medic to the Strikers. A man blessed with a luxurious, comfortable lifestyle in the Citadel he'd known for most of his life had gone from being a wandering doctor to someone who lived on the front lines of the battlefield.
High Lieutenant McGarnes had graduated to a more decadent standard of living as he was relocated into an office where he organized training drills and only went out to the field with his troops when he was required to confirm that no issued weapons or equipment had been stolen. McGarnes had been groomed to fit this type of position after his wife fell seriously ill and after he’d demanded more time to spend at home taking care of his family.
After exhausting all of Wanre's known resources in an effort to find some kind of cure, High Lieutenant McGarnes became desperate and began accessing the dark web through his work terminal. Amour learned that his wife’s disease was merely one out of a series of conditions brought on by the bacteria otherworldly invaders had brought with them. And so, the Ark knew of a panacea and offered a small sample of it to Amour to deliver unto the man who’d traumatized him. Amour, cloaked in a dark robe that he used to conceal half of his face, visited McGarnes one morning upon request. Amour had discovered the High Lieutenant’s online pleading for information about his wife's illness and responded with the promise of something that would help. When the officer finally met with the one he’d tormented in the past, he didn't recognize him but was distrusting of his appearance. Amour, fighting back an overwhelming anxiety, gave him a small sample in a vial that restored Mrs. McGarnes to a vigor she hadn't possessed in some time. For only a few days, she was suddenly able to walk a
gain and was constantly moving on to the next activity—taking care of their shared estates, hosting dinner parties, and helping with the High Lieutenant’s dry cleaning like she always had when he was away on business.
And just as quickly, she soon lost all of her energy as well as some of her basic senses and fell back into her original stupor. Mrs. McGarnes became pitiable, an emaciated woman confined to a bed with only a window to view the world outside her room. It was the sight of this that caused the High Lieutenant to reach out to Amour again in desperation, and Amour followed up by requesting the officer’s presence at his “abode.” But this abode happened to be a narrow, rectangular hole dug several feet into the ground…
Upon arrival, High Lieutenant McGarnes demanded haughtily. “What is this supposed to be, healer?! Some kind of morbid joke?”
Amour stared at the officer as his fury quickly escalated.
“Is this shit funny to you? Huh!?” The officer stepped forward to pick up Amour by the collar of his undershirt. Amour's cloak fell away to reveal his deformity and shocked McGarnes.
“Oh,” he sneered, taken aback, “you're some kind of curly-headed freak then! What, you give me hope for my wife for a few days and then take me to this fucking hole in the ground?! –What did you give her the first time, bitch? Some fucking shit fiends use to keep themselves awake! Answer me!”
Lieutenant McGarnes slapped Amour before hefting him higher into the air. “I swear I'll kill you right here, fucking prankster! How could you give my WIFE drugs!”
In a moment, McGarnes’ ears fell away from his face. Before he could grasp at the bleeding crevices left behind, he lost the tip of his nose and subsequently he felt an intense burning which traveled across his scalp…
Half of Lieutenant McGarnes' face detached itself and tumbled to the ground, and the last thing he saw was Amour's wicked smile beaming at him as his vision faded.
Amour had transcended himself as a medic, using his talents to become an artist capable of bisecting individual body parts to form a new masterpiece.
--
“Clansman, you are but a human so I understand if you do not share in the knowledge and courtesies the brethren use and faithfully demonstrate. A clansman does not typically call for a private dinner with an Ark. Any discussions should be shared with the family over a meal intended to nourish the Whole. But what you have provided here is a specific dish, and one could easily assume that you intend to procure something from me personally. That is why it is considered disrespectful to suggest an occasion such as this, but for now I will humor you.”
“Yes, my Eld—”
“As long as I can have seconds, Clansman.” The Ark revealed a pleased expression. “Do not keep or hide exquisite food from me.”
“Why of course!” Amour replied. “This was specially prepared as a demonstration of my growth.”
“Growth?”
“Transformation, if you will!” Amour began tearing apart the cooked meat on his side of the room with an aura emanating from his hands.
“It appears you've finally abandoned utensils common to human creatures for consumption. Is this what you speak of? Or is it the way you can slice at the food as if your hands were blades themselves?”
“It is none of that, Elder. I have become something new, you see. The dish I prepared for this feast is… a courtesy offered by someone who owed me a great deal.”
“What manner of courtesy, Clansman?”
“He offers his body as our nourishment. I refined his tendons and connective tissue into a more solid texture resembling something of a main course—isn't it wonderful? Art emerges in many forms, and—although I’m no chef—I found this creation suitable. I buried the non-essentials but otherwise I crafted this piece with his flesh and bones; I put together a dinner to show that I'm ready to become myself.”
The Demon Elder began to laugh. “What thirst! To be of men and know chaos as the Unaer’e have… that is a gift, Clansman. I recognized the smell despite your efforts to disguise it; you’ve earned your place amongst us—”
“No.” Amour said quietly.
“Hmm?”
“There is still one more speck I must remove. An imperfection. I can feel my power growing, but it's stunted by one further obstacle…”
Amour journeyed to find his father, Doctor Rustam.
12
The Sky is Crying
LIEUTENANT SHRAEU AND DETECTIVE BALI were ten minutes out from the lavish palace owned by her husband in the Upper-City.
“So you've been rolling large all this time, and you’re still a Bureau detective? You could be doing so much more, Zola!”
“Don't overstep your boundaries with me, Sir.”
“‘Overstep my boundaries?’ We're about to take this man down for good! I will not allow this monster to keep hurting the woman I love!”
“Aren't you married, Lieutenant? You have a wife at home; have you called her today?”
Shraeu looked away from her. “She's… she's not like you. Haidi doesn't bring out the best in me like you do—from the start, we always felt like our marriage was a mistake—but now I see that Avva herself is giving me the opportunity to change that! I'll either find enough evidence to lock this man up, or I'll make sure he never hurts anyone again!”
Zola looked down. “Those are some lofty goals.”
“Excuse me? Zola, I don't think you're taking me serious right now—”
“When did I ever give you the permission to stop calling me Detective Bali? I don't remember ever doing that, do you?”
“Well, I… uh, I'm sorry—”
“Let's keep things professional for now, Lieutenant. We have to focus on the primary mission and nothing but that.” Zola stared ahead and seemed to wander off in her mind.
“You know what? You're absolutely right, detective.” He smiled. “Why stress about anything other than doing what's right! We'll do justice in the name of the Citadel!”
“It won't be what you think, Lieutenant…”
“What do you mean?”
The police cruiser pulled up in front of an immense mansion suspended on an isolated block made from a new metal used for modern construction. It was surrounded by several other luxurious houses also suspended on their own individual platforms and separated from each other by wide expanses leading down toward the Mid-City. The only way to travel from this quiet neighborhood was via cruiser, as its design was intended to enforce privacy, personal space, and enhanced security.
The collection of lone estates was equipped with its own public park and a series of monuments to the Dawn Federation isolated on their own, much larger steel foundations. Future agriculture had become a portable science, and it was now possible to synthesize the beginnings of a garden or groups of crops almost anywhere—including metallic surface. Therefore, landscapers developed beautifully adorned plots all positioned within view of any house belonging to the community.
“This jackass has been living it up like a big league. Just who is he, anyways? Why is he so important again?”
Zola looked at him with a blank stare and said. “My husband is…”
--
Eager to find his father and save him from the threat posed by the Wanre infantry, Amour infiltrated the Strikers and discovered intelligence on their personnel. He located a file detailing information on Doctor Rustam and noticed that the medic now received something that could be considered a pension from the United Clans of Wanre. Rustam now had access to free medical treatment for himself and was permitted to eat with the other soldiers… as if he’d always been one of their own.
Following further investigation, Amour located Rustam's assigned unit and realized that they’d deployed to fight back a wave of militia banded together in the northern regions to affect a rebellion against Wanre. He searched through operation orders to locate Rustam's commander and found the leader’s current plans concerning the unit to which the field medic had been assigned. Thus, Amour traveled throughout the coun
try and stayed hidden as he sought to find the unit's outer border of security around their established camp. Finding Rustam’s company of soldiers far too threatening in size, Amour assassinated one of the lower enlisted who’d been placed on guard duty on the camp borders. The soldier on watch duty had barely reached an age where he could've even been considered a man. He was young, close in age to Amour, but when the two of their fates collided only one prevailed.
Amour cut the soldier's throat and stole his company uniform in order to blend in with the fighters. Luckily for him, Wanre’s lower-ranking soldiers weren't required to wear any identifying information on their clothing. Despite this, all of them possessed tags stored in the pockets of their uniforms in case one of them were to fall in battle. And lately, due to countless skirmishes with the local population, several of them were dying from either fatal wounds or the infections produced as a result.
Wanre was up against forces who’d been supplied superior weaponry and were, in their eyes, inexplicably able to procure the upper hand in a war that would prove to be short. Though this new opponent was a threat with which to be reckoned, the government hadn't been made aware of the gravity of the situation until it was much too late. Nonetheless, this was the perfect time for Amour to infiltrate a unit so ill-equipped to confront this persistent threat, and there appeared to be more casualties than the company was prepared to treat. Amour took advantage of their weakened forces and quickly made himself useful in a clinic having been understaffed and barely containing the appropriate tools needed to remedy increasingly severe wounds. While triaging what appeared to be a constant stream of patients, the young man searched for any clue that would lead to his father… and after an entire day had passed, Amour finally saw the man from a distance.
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