by Kyle Belote
The woman smiled knowingly and nodded. “Yes, he would like to see her I imagine,” she speculated warmly. “This is a first, is it not?”
“Spoken of truth and peace,” the man replied, bowing gracefully to the two women and taking his leave of them.
The brief exchange showed Starriace a flash of insight into their culture–one of honor, tradition, discipline, and respect. Gracious and elegant, flowing with impossible benevolence and tranquility, Starriace felt restless, disquieted, akin to Xilor coming to an open hall meeting in the heart of Ralloc.
“Who am I going to meet?” Starriace inquired.
The Archangel smiled. “Your grandfather.”
Epilogue: Judas
After their meeting in Ralloc, Judas teleported to Dlad City where the survivors of Cape Gythmel joined the Grand Royal Army. The battlemages Judas sent when Xilor started his second attack returned in time with the Portal Masters. They evacuated everyone, and Kernoyl Tyku along with Judas were the last to leave. Xilor suffered a decimating loss, and it would be a while before he would mobilize again.
Judas raised the flap to his tent and entered, sitting on the edge of his pallet. His heart was heavy with the possible loss of Julie. While he believed Zmora, the fairy, she could be mistaken. After kicking off his boots, his pillow greeted him. He had but few precious hours before the start of another day.
Unaware, he drifted off to sleep and entered a lucid dream of a familiar mountainside, a place he had not been to since his youth, not since the fateful day tragedy befell his master.
Reaching Fife’s hut, he noticed the old circular arena where he and his master held many lessons. Nostalgia took him, his feet carrying him to the ring.
“You won’t find her here,” an old voice lilted from the right. He turned, finding his master of the past, Fife Doole. At first, he only stared, completely flabbergasted by the appearance of his former mentor. He drew closer, peering carefully at him. “BOO!” the vision said, lurching forward, making him jump in surprise.
Despite the dream, the emotions seemed real, and as he did so long ago, Judas bowed his head in reverence. “Master.” he began, searching for words to follow up with, but they never came.
“Hard to take in, is it not?” Fife intoned. “Well, things will become stranger, old friend. The young woman you seek is no longer here; she just left–took off. Just poof and there she went.”
“What do you mean took off?”
“She bounded off the ground and flew away, this I know!”
“How is that possible?” the pupil asked. “Where did she learn to fly? How can she fly?”
Fife chuckled at the dumbfounded man.
“It’s impossible. No mortal can fly! If it were true, she would rival …”
“Yes, yes. Powerful enough to match my star apprentice, is that not so? And all without wings. She inherited the gift.”
“Inherited?”
Fife shrugged playfully at Judas’ question.
“Impossible! I cannot fly, which means she would inherit the ability from her mother. More potent genes pass from the father, not the mother, that’s why they still arrange marriages! To breed powerful descendants and House alliances.”
“Very true, from this Realm, but her innate genes come from her mother as well as her father–you.”
Judas shook his head, disbelieving. Anger welled up within him.
What kind of cruel dream is this?
“My child died!” he shouted.
“This is a dream, that is true. But I am also real.”
Judas shook his head, not hearing his master. His thoughts were on his lost apprentice. “I have to find Julie.”
“She no longer goes by her former name,” Fife called. “Nor will you find her. She holds no tethers of her past life and accepted her true identity. Though accepting of her uniqueness, she knows not of her parents.”
“What is her name, then?”
“Starriace.”
Judas felt weak and lightheaded. Ermaeyth spun, and he sat down hard on the grass. Fife waddled closer.
“My Starriace?” whispered the apprentice. The truth of Fife’s words echoed within his chest. He no longer thought of Julie the helpless girl, but of Starriace, the daughter he lost.
“The same,” Fife confirmed. “She is your daughter, but she is not herself, this I know!”
“What do you mean?”
“She left, out of rage and impatience. She is angry with me because I would not teach her offensive Rumigul.”
“Rumigul? You mean she accomplished Rumigul?”
“Yes. She is magnificent, I might add. Unstable, powerful, and impatient. It seems she inherited things from you as well, is that not so?” Fife chuckled.
“I have to find her, tell her.”
“No! Do not be foolish! Above all, you must not tell her you are her father. At least, not now.”
“Why? Won’t she be happy?”
“No, it will break her in her mind, and her heart. According to her, it is you who did not come to her rescue in the Corridor of Cruelty. In moments of clarity, she realizes it’s not your fault, and while powerful when rational, if her psyche breaks, cataclysmic events await.” The gnomling paused, letting his words sink in. “Can you be careful? I remember a bumbling pupil before. When you confront her, if you confront her at all, remember, she has changed, passed beyond the young woman she once was. If you search for her in your heart, you will not find her either. She is lost now, passed from luminosity and into obscurity. This is true,” Fife spoke remorsefully.
“Starriace isn’t capable of–!”
“False! You knew what her heart once was, true. Only impatience, rage, and mistrust fill her now. Violence and death are her companions.”
“I don’t believe it. I can’t!”
“You’ve always had your faith. It is strong, this I know. You will believe when you see it with your own eyes. Rest not on such thoughts now. More important is the future she may yet embark on to bring an end to Xilor.”
“Have you envisioned it?” Judas inquired, sobering from the blunt news.
“Her hate for him will drive her. Maybe not now, but eventually, she will see that he stands in her way. If she takes him, in his place we will have an Empress. Only you and her mother could assume the task of ridding her of this Realm–far more dangerous and deadly compared to Xilor.”
“So,” the apprentice hesitated, “she’s a renegade?”
“Like father, like daughter? No. To her, what she does is right, but she no longer feels right from wrong. Anything she can do to rid herself of him, she will, and though for the right reasons, the method is wrong.”
“Oh, gods, her mother–” Judas murmured solemnly.
Fife barked a laugh. “Unadvisable. A mother’s pull to her offspring is even stronger than a father’s. Her mother would tear the Realm apart looking for her, and only be devastated and heartbroken in the end. Besides, you had trouble in that area, did you not? Quite the womanizer? Even now you are guessing who the mother is, is that not so?” Fife smiled, tapping his temple knowingly.
“True, but I must find out. Meristal never actually forgave me…”
“Again, unwise. Does stupidity riddle your bones with old age? You should wait. When Ermaeyth finds out about Starriace, the mother will present herself. Hopefully, there aren’t too many possibilities, yes?”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Soma agrees with me,” Fife said with certainty.
“Though I don’t agree, I trust your judgment. How will I get a hold of you?”
“I will find you,” the elder promised. He looked at the boy one last time and faded from existence.
Judas bolted upright from his pallet, waking from the dream.
No, he amended, a vision.
A voice called out to him from outside his tent. He bade the to enter, and the red haired Do-don of the Krey, Xenomene, entered.
“I have a favor to ask.”
Epilogue: Xenomene
Xeno stood alone in the vast wastes of the Desert of the Forsaken, west of Dlad City. She shivered from the cold but the chair in front of her remained unmoved by the clime. She frowned. The desert was always cold at night, but with the changing of the seasons, it was much more so now. The moments ticked by, waiting for the warlock to come through with his promise. One other would be present tonight besides what the warlock promised: the Heart. Typically, she would only ask the Heart to participate with her scheme but she lacked the power to do as Xenomene desired. Also, the Do-don didn’t want the Mind or the Hand involved. It was none of their business.
The night she had spent on her quest in the Mind’s tent was left unfinished. He attempted to reignite the occurrence once they fled Cape Gythmel to Dlad City, but she wasn’t inclined at the moment. She would finish what she started, most likely–she always did, no matter what. For now, she had other issues to settle.
As if in answer to her diligence, a person appeared before, unconscious. With effort, she moved the unresponsive form into the chair and bound him with rope before looping a coil through his teeth, effectively gagging him.
With cautious care, Xenomene ran her tiny fingers through the fine, satiny hair of the unconscious form. “I’m sorry for what I am about to do,” she murmured.
Stepping back, she swung her arm, the flat of her palm striking his face. Fire flared in her hand followed by a tingling numb. The man hollered in muffled shock, snatching his head up and looking frantically about before his eyes fell on Xenomene. He yelled something through the gag at her. Xeno replied with dead eyes staring back, centering herself, separating emotion from the deed. While awaiting the Heart’s arrival, she could tell Bitcher why he faced disciplinary action.
“Good evening,” she began formally. “You are probably wondering why you are here. I asked a certain warlock to send you here, to the fucking freezing ass-end of nowhere so I can render punishment without interference or be overheard. Reasonably, you are wondering ‘what justice?’ In short, you violated me.” She held up a hand to forestall any muffled screams. “I am not saying you raped me. The truth is: I let you take me, but you did so without my leave. I believe my exact words were: ‘Either do what you’ve come to do if you are brave enough to suffer the consequences, or get the fuck out of my tent.’ Tonight is the manifestation of said consequences.”
She wholeheartedly agreed that the punishment should equal the transgression, and a part of her gave pause. Her first plans revolved around castrating him and be done with it, however, she felt differently once she cooled off, recalling the memory. Additionally, leaving him castrated made her feel guilty, having enjoyed the experience, so she struck a compromise with herself.
Upon asking Lakayre to help, he had refused. When she gave him assurances that he would not be disfigured or killed, the warlock agreed when Xenomene said her life would be forfeit otherwise. And so here they were, in the desert, the last piece of the puzzle having yet arrived.
A small flash of light announced the arrival of the Heart, and she came up behind her.
“What kept you?” Xeno grunted.
“Warlock Lakayre. He intended to make sure you understood the arrangement.”
Xeno shrugged. “Fuck the warlock. He is not Krey.”
The Heart almost said something, but she kept quiet. Instead, she inquired, “Are you sure about this?”
“Are you sure you can do it?” Xenomene countered.
“Yes.”
“Then, I’m sure as well.” Xeno faced Bitcher. She pulled her knife free of its sheath and advance on him. Bitcher’s gray eyes went wide in terror as he shouted at her. “Shh,” she said as she leaned down to caress his face. She kissed his forehead and whispered. “You are lucky that you were a good fuck, otherwise, this would end bad for you.” she promised darkly. She slid the knife carefully into his trousers, cutting them free of his body, careful to avoid lacerating his skin and did the same to his tunic. Naked, Bitcher’s nipples hardened, and his manhood shriveled.
“Bit nippy out,” Xeno purred, a smile on her face.
She knelt in front of him, her left hand fondling him, warming him, encouraging arousal, to untuck his taut skin. “I was going to castrate you and let you bleed, but I have a soft spot for you now. The next time I don’t explicitly say yes, you should assume no, and yes,” she nodded, as Bitcher shook his head, “I would do it again, among other things. The Islander’s fashion isn’t the only way. Had it not been for you, I would have never tried it, would have never known.”
She looked down at his flaccid state. “Am I going to have to take you with my mouth to get what I want?” His pale gray eyes widened but still held the look of panic and uncertainty.
You know,“ she whispered, leaning in close. Her hot breath tickled his ear. ”I always wondered about you Forgotten Islanders and now I know. What is your saying?“ He mumbled something through the rope, but she couldn’t make it out. She regarded his manhood again, still passive. She leaned close again. ”Don’t make me suck you in front of the Heart because I will, if need be. I’m sure she’s seen stranger things. But while we wait, I want you to know I enjoyed it. Did you? Did you enjoy my body? I liked it when you pulled my hair, choked me. I loved the drug, whatever it was. I would have done anything.“ She pulled back a little to look in his eyes. ”Anything,“ she repeated. ”How many times did you cum in my ass? Three times?
Glancing down, she found what she wanted, his skin loosening, untucked.
“I’m glad to experience your culture…” her voice hardened, “… now experience mine!” The knife flashed between his legs as she severed his left testicle. He screamed through the rope, his body shaking, convulsing, veins spiderwebbing through his temples and forehead, screaming between each gasp.
“‘Did you like that, whore?’” Xeno recited his words.
He wailed so loud the gag was almost worthless. Xeno was glad they were in the Desert of the Forsaken. She stayed kneeling, watching him scream and shake violently. A few moments later, he passed out. Blood flowed freely, pooling on the seat, trickling down the legs of the chair to the cold ground beneath. She stood and wiped her blade on his now tattered clothes.
Motioning to the Heart, she asked, “Is this a first for you?”
The speechless Heart only nodded.
“Good, well now you can practice. I left you one testicle in case you can’t figure out how to reattach his other.” She backed away, fascinated, as the Heart worked putting Bitcher back together.
Justice is served. One down, two more to go. Once for every time he came.
Epilogue: Starriace
Two weeks had passed since Starriace left the Archangels and the fateful confrontation with Xilor behind. The man who claimed to be her grandsire did not impart knowledge for which she yearned. Instead, he removed the trace Xilor’s minion placed on her. His words were sparse and unrevealing, yet his presence seemed familiar like she encountered it before, but only fleeting. He seemed genuinely happy to see her, but he imparted that no Archangel would ever come to her rescue again. A one-and-done for her, a mere mortal. He did promise they would meet again, just not here or under the same circumstances. Though grateful, she couldn’t help her growing despair knowing she’d never visit them again, and swelling anger for unanswered questions. With nothing left to gain, she asked to be returned to the realm, where she belonged.
Not knowing where to go or who to turn to, Starriace traveled waywardly at first. She couldn’t go back to Judas, wouldn’t return to Fife. Both tried and failed to train her, to protect her. She trusted them, a mistake, and only she could assume the responsibility. With youth and innocence stripped away, only an aching heart remained filled with resentment and cruel indignity.
Priorities had changed. Her resentment towards parents she never knew shifted, letting go. While curiosity still prevailed, other matters took precedence and a reunion would have to wait.
Acknowledging that she barely s
urvived her encounter with the Dark Lord, she still had hope. She had injured him. He was beatable. Without making the same mistakes again and redoubling her efforts to learn and gather more abilities, she set her mind to figuring out a way to topple him.
A silent craving slithered through her.
I will never be weak again. I will never be helpless.
Her future was up to her now. She would never lean on another to show her the way. Starriace would forge ahead, complete her training on her own, but where would she start?
It looks like the fairies get what they want, she mused derisively. One thing she considered, and would rely on, were teachers from ancient times.
At least their methods are proven; a solid history, their theories, and hypotheses are no longer considered myths or philosophies, and they now became common doctrines for the realm, Starriace reasoned. She remembered a saying from a long time ago from some forgotten place: listen to, learn from, and respect your elders.
Where the thought came from, she hadn’t a clue. It wasn’t significant, but its truth was.
The matter of Rusem and his tale of seven stones, while a mystery, needled her. Whatever secrets he had, they would be hers. Though several places for where to start came to mind, she needed to research. Multiple possibilities manifested, but none provided her with everything she needed, the foremost was anonymity and safety. But if she could hide where no one saw her, one that Judas didn’t know about … the perfect place came to mind. She would go and begin tracing her steps towards the stones and power. In a few days, she would be there.
Harold the hermit would soon be getting another visit.
About The Author
Kyle Belote is a prior Marine and is currently serving the Marine Corps and their Family Community in Okinawa, Japan. He hails from Wimberley, Texas, a small town in the hill country just southwest of Austin. When he is writing, he enjoys writing character conflict and development, controversial issues while representing both sides without a particular leaning, and an overall engaging story. Kyle is a huge Star Wars fan and Expanded Universe novel fanatic. He enjoys a diverse amount of films, shows, and books. His life advice is: “Adapt and overcome and know that sometimes to overcome, you must circumvent. Don’t be afraid to try and fail; you tried where others never tried at all. Settle for nothing less than you deserve. When you speak, speak your mind and be honest, no one can ever say you’re duplicitous.”