by David Beers
Reinheld looked to the woman and Rhett saw the struggle inside him. Giving his own life for an infidel, someone not of the Blood; it was something Rhett didn’t understand, nor would he ever want to. If you were not of David, of the Unformed, then you were not worthy of thought, let alone love.
Reinheld nodded.
David stared for a second longer and then the gray in his eyes died. He turned back to the woman. “Until she takes the Blood, she stays out here with my sister. Manor, right? You’re free to move about as you want, but remember what you agreed to. She takes the Blood or you die with her.”
David didn’t spare a glance as he walked back up the shore. Rhett watched the two of them for a second and then followed his leader, not caring in the slightest what they chose. All that mattered to Rhett Scoble was the man in front of him, and the course he chose.
Born again, night was at full strength. The moon shone down through the branches and leaves, the wind rolling up from the beach. Insects chirped, making themselves known to possible mates throughout the forest. In front of Rhett, a fire burned. The smoke from the wood filled his nose and the chill from the beach’s wind caused him to wrap his arms around himself. There were no blankets, no extra clothing. They had only themselves, but that was more than any of them had a week ago.
Christine was awake, and it wasn’t just the firelight that made her skin look darker. She was looking better after only a few hours around David, and only a fool would say it wasn’t due to him.
Manor had come to the fire a few minutes ago, though Brinson was still down by the beach. He didn’t look at anyone, only sat and stared into the flames.
David looked at him for a long minute before speaking. “You’re the one who sent word about the ships that were coming to attack me?”
Manor nodded, his mouth closed.
“And you got that information from her?”
Another nod.
“Then I trust you. You’ve taken my Blood and you tried to save my life. It’s the only reason I allowed her to live. When the time comes, though, I will make you own up to your agreement.”
Manor said nothing, only stared into the flickering fire.
David looked back to Rhett and Christine. “Things have … changed.”
Rhett didn’t like the sound of the last word. It held a sadness to it that Rhett wasn’t used to hearing from David.
“I’m not talking about Rebecca. I will deal with her shortly. I’m meaning for us, and our revolution.” He looked up, the fire’s glow reflecting in his eyes. “I should have died. I think … perhaps I did in a way. It’s not really important how I survived, only what happened in between my fall and rise.”
He found the fire and grew quiet for a minute or so. Rhett wasn’t going to rush him. He wanted to know, desperately so, but something about this felt … wrong, and he didn’t know why. It should have been a time for celebration and joy, with David returned. Even Rebecca’s treachery couldn’t diminish what was happening. The Unformed would come soon.
Yet, Rhett felt no joy, no reason to celebrate when David spoke.
“Before, I couldn’t have come to you like that. Not before I fell. My powers were limited only to me. I couldn’t act through other people.”
Rhett nodded.
“Let me start with what I saw, and then I’ll tell you what’s happening, and what’s to come.”
Under Water
The Prophet breathed in and gray static filled his lungs. His eyes were wide, shock coursing through his body and mind. The static that he had used much of his life, the static that had protected his life, now did its best to give him life.
Sea creatures from long miles away swam within 100 feet of him, all gazing at the bright light and knowing in their dim brains that something was special about this beast.
The gray static didn’t give his lungs oxygen as he sucked in, but instead gave him the only possible thing that could save him.
It gave him the Unformed.
The Prophet saw nothing of the world around him; he saw the Unformed fully. He wasn’t at the Beyond, not staring at the universe as it raced forward into the Unformed’s habitat. The gray static had brought him to the Unformed, just as it had the others like him at the end of their lives.
The Prophet, perhaps the last Prophet, was being given a choice.
The creature was huge in a way that he hadn’t truly understood before. Planets were nothing more than marbles against it. There was no end to it, no possibility of seeing around it. There was only the Unformed, an off white, craggy orb that stretched forever. To even call it an orb simply showed the limitations of language. Globe, planet, universe—all these ideas failed to encompass what the Prophet stared at.
The choice was simple, join or return.
Join the Unformed forever and ever, or return to the Earth and continue Its quest.
The first Prophet to come here wasn’t given a choice—Abby already being dead.
The second Prophet was shown something similar, but by that point, she had already decided her fate.
David Hollowborne, Prophet of the Unformed, could die and join his God, or continue living.
This David told to his closest followers: Rhett Scoble, Christine Fain, as well as Manor Reinheld.
He told them that he chose to return, but that’s when he veered off truth’s course. He said being so close to the Unformed had allowed him to retain more of the Unformed. This wasn’t … the entirety of what happened.
Looking upon The Unformed, being brought to It, transference had occurred. There was no way to avoid it, like the closer one moves toward a fire, the warmer one becomes until finally burning. David had nearly touched the flame, and truthfully, he’d wanted to embrace it. Just wrap his arms around the fire and go home.
He turned, though, because he understood the truth. If he joined the Unformed, then the chances of It dying grew. If he returned to the world, where his traitor sister waited—and pain, and death, and everything humans fled—then the Unformed might live.
And with that knowledge, David made his choice to continue fighting.
And he brought that transference with him, that power.
What he didn’t tell his followers, though, was the cost. Everything in life must be paid for, whether food or peace of mind, or yes, even power. You pay for it with currency, time—or in David’s case, his life.
His connection with the Unformed had grown stronger, a direct line from his mind to Its. And now, each time he used the gray …
The Prophet died. Just a bit, but some all the same. Each time he used the power granted to him by his God, more of him was drained back to the Unformed. The transference couldn’t only happen one way. David could not take without giving. And it was that which he didn’t tell his followers. If he used his powers, he would die. He could only hope to thrust them across the finish line, and if he was lucky, maybe catch a glimpse of the glory that would come after. He would not, in all likelihood, survive the Union.
His followers couldn’t know, because they couldn’t be thinking about his life while fighting for the Unformed’s. It was the Union that mattered, nothing else.
The Prophet made his choice, his life for his God.
Sixty-Five
David stopped talking.
Rhett looked at him, his thoughts naked across his face. It didn’t feel right, what he was being told. The melancholy in David’s voice didn’t match the story Rhett had just heard—what was there to be sad about? More power? Having looked upon the Unformed?
“That’s it?” he whispered. It was Rebecca who had always challenged her brother, no one else, but Rhett couldn’t help but ask the question.
David looked at him. “Yes. What else would there be?”
Rhett shook his head. “I don’t know.”
David studied him for a second and Rhett thought he saw the man struggling with something, but only briefly. When David looked back to the fire, the struggle was gone, if it ever existed at all.
“So that brings us to now, to what’s happening. Not everyone felt my return, only those I chose. You three, of course. Rebecca. I’ve been … selective about how I do this.”
Why? Rhett wondered. Why be selective now when you weren’t before? He didn’t ask the questions, though, because it wasn’t his place. His Prophet had returned and as before, Rhett would follow his guidance.
“All four Ministers are in the One Path. It’s not important why they are, only that they are.” David glanced up from the fire. “Have any of you heard of the pits?”
Rhett shook his head again, his brow furrowed. He didn’t glance at anyone else, unable to pull his eyes from David.
“They are the One Path’s version of jails, I suppose. I only know this because we have followers in them. Imagine huge pools floating in the sky, row after row, column after column. They’re filled with an oily substance, and it almost shines gold. It nearly glows. The One Path tosses people into these and they’re held without food, without water, without even the ability to breathe. Somehow that liquid delivers everything the body needs, but the pit holds them. It keeps them from moving.”
He paused for a second.
“And … these pits drive them insane. I don’t know if it’s the liquid or the solitary confinement, or not being able to move. I don’t know which.”
Reinheld shivered and Rhett glanced at him. His arms were folded across his stomach, and he was hunched over, staring into the fire. The breeze was cool, but not that cold. Rhett understood, or thought he did. They both had been held captive, but Rhett had the First Priest coming to him daily. As awful as the Priest was, it was still human interaction. How long had Reinheld sat in his cell without speaking to another human?
David went on, seeming to not notice anything happening around him. He appeared lost in his head, not even seeing the fire he stared at.
“There was a man in those pits, and I don’t know why, but my Blood flows strong through him. I found him first … and … his mind is broken. Not fully, but fractured I guess would be the right word.” He finally looked up again. “Which is a good thing. It’s what I want. I’m not sure the exact number of people in those pits, but there are thousands. And I brought them out and I sent them to the Ministers.”
Rhett’s eyes widened, understanding. “Where?”
“The Globe of One. It’s like Corinth’s Shrine, but the One Path’s version.”
Rhett shook his head, questions coming to him. “Even with thousands, how would they make a dent in the Globe? I’ve seen it, David, when converting. The thing is huge.”
“I’m with them,” he said.
Rhett’s eyes flashed to his arm and he saw those gray strands hanging from it. He jerked, but only slightly, before gaining control of himself. When he blinked, the strands were gone and he was staring only at his arm.
“All of them?” he said, not looking up.
“Yes.”
“Won’t the Ministers just leave?” Christine asked from the other side of the fire. Rhett had nearly forgotten about her; she was quieter than ever.
“They can’t. All entrances and exits across the entire place have been shut down.”
“How?” Rhett asked.
“I’m with them,” David repeated.
Rhett was quiet for a moment, awe filling him. The One Path was above them all right now, in the sky above the clouds, and David sat on the ground, yet waged a war above—his power now knowing no limits.
“Are you a God? Are you the Unformed?”
David looked back to the fire, a smirk on his face … a sad smirk. “I wish, Rhett. I’m only a man.”
Manor walked away from the dying fire. The other three were preparing for sleep, but Manor wouldn’t sleep by the fire. He had stayed to hear what the Prophet said, still unable to come to terms with being next to him. Manor understood now why people followed him, and it was beyond the Blood or the Unformed, or even truth. They followed him, and they would to their death.
Himself included. Manor would have died for this before, but after meeting Hollowborne …
Manor would cut his own throat if that was required of him.
Walking toward the beach, thoughts of the Prophet faded, and thoughts of what Manor had promised earlier resumed. Raylyn had refused the Blood, and he offered his own life up as guarantee that she took it.
And what about what she did for you? Didn’t she risk her own life just two days ago?
It was true, but she wasn’t serving the Unformed. She didn’t have the Prophet sleeping not a Corinthmeter up the beach. She had forsaken a false religion for him, but now he’d agreed to give up everything.
She’ll take it, he thought. She’ll take the Blood.
Raylyn was sitting with her back to the campsite, staring out at the ocean. Manor stood for a few seconds and looked at the moonlight casting its glow across the dark, rippling waves. He looked to his left and saw the transport still resting where they’d landed. The gray static remained wrapped around the Prophet’s sister, glowing like a light bulb in the night. Manor wondered briefly what was wrong with the woman? How she could be so evil?
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Raylyn said, pulling him from his thoughts.
Manor sat down next to her, placing his hands in the sand and feeling its cool grit. “It’s too late now.”
“I’m not joining him,” she said. “What do you call it? Taking the Blood? The Blood of the Touched, right?”
Manor nodded.
“I’m not doing it. I showed that I would die for you, Manor. I did that two days ago, and we should have died. I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone else. More than I love my own life.” She was quiet for a few moments, and then said, “But I don’t love you more than I love my soul.”
“He’s the truth, Raylyn,” Manor whispered. “You’ve seen what he can do.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care if he brings the Unformed and the two of them rule forever. I won’t submit again.”
“Submit?” Manor asked, incredulous. “What else are you supposed to do? When you see truth, you follow it. That’s not submitting. It’s purpose.”
Raylyn chuckled, a sarcastic sounding thing. She had listened to him for hours in his cell, talking about why he’d chosen the Unformed … and then she’d thrown away her religion. She’d thrown away her life, yet when she spoke now, it was wired with hate.
“You shouldn’t have told him that, Manor. There is no mercy in that man. I’ve seen him kill hundreds of people in seconds. I watched him burn my friend alive. Just burn right through her bones. He’s going to kill you, Manor, if you don’t leave with me.”
“Leave with you?” he looked over at her, his voice a whisper.
“That’s the only choice we have, if we want to live. When I tell him again that I’m not joining, that’s it for both of us.”
“You have to join, Raylyn. There’s no other option. There’s no leaving. Where are you going to go? Right now, he’s wiping out all of the Ministries. He’s destroying them with a single swipe of the board. You either join or you die.”
“So I do it out of fear, if not love? That’s your pitch?”
Manor didn’t know what to say, and so he said nothing. He looked out at the ocean and the two sat in silence.
A while passed, and then Raylyn spoke again. “I gave my life to Corinth. Every piece of me. I haven’t even begun to process what breaking away from that means, because I haven’t had the chance. But if I live long enough, I’m sure I’ll deal with this the same as I would deal with the death of an intimate loved one. Because that’s what he was to me. And none of it was real, Manor.” She reached across the sand and took his hand in hers. “You showed me that, and I’m eternally grateful. I do love you, even though the things you’ve done frighten me to my core. I’m free for the first time in my life. Maybe not physically. I’m still under his rule right now, but mentally? There’s no god I have to pray too. There’s no being I need to curry f
avor with. There’s no lie to live.”
She looked back to the ocean.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave with me if you want to live. I’m not joining him.”
Manor sat for a few minutes with his hand underneath hers. His vision was blurred, the moon’s rays scattering in strange directions.
“I’m not leaving, and you should think about your decision, Raylyn. There’s only death out there. Life … it rests with him.”
He took his hand away and walked back up the beach, leaving her alone with the other nonbeliever.
“How are you feeling?”
Rhett heard David ask Christine the question as he walked back to the campsite. He’d gone down to the beach to check on Rebecca—making sure she was still wrapped in David’s gray wires, and hadn’t floated out with the tide.
“I’m better,” Christine answered, glancing to Rhett as he arrived. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Rhett didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. There wasn’t an ounce of thankfulness in her, and Rhett had known there wouldn’t be.
“What?” David asked.
Christine didn’t take her eyes off Rhett. She just shook her head slightly, saying no. She wouldn’t tell. She might be angry with Rhett, might even hate him for what he’d done, but she wouldn’t be the one to tell David.
Rhett looked over to him. “I was given a choice. Either they tortured her or I talked. I thought you were dead and we were too. I talked. I told them about the Blood, about how it passed from parent to child. Other things, too.”
David held his gaze, but Rhett saw no sign of the gray static in his eyes. “Who did you tell?”
“The First Priest.”
“So if we lose, they know how we spread in between Prophets?”
Rhett nodded.
David looked at the ground and was quiet for a few moments. “Then this time we can’t lose.” He looked back up. “I agree with Christine. You shouldn’t have said anything. If they were going to torture Christine, then so be it. We serve a greater purpose than any of us, and the purpose will live on even if we die.”