by Marc Mulero
“She is trying to break through, but you are rejecting her,” the Eldest stated, his eyes becoming painstakingly bright, illuminating the white mark on his face.
“I would never reject her,” Blague barked.
“It is not a conscious rejection,” Aslock clarified. “Your mind cannot handle the reality shift. It threatens your fundamental values, which is the very base of your ability to learn and perceive.”
“So what’s the goddamn solution?” Blague was losing patience.
“Dual consciousness is a primary study of the Neraphis. With training, you may be able to accept this truth.” Halewyn released his grip and took a step back. “Though I must warn you, it could take as long as a lifetime, if at all, for the second consciousness to project into the mind. Every person is truly unique in this regard.”
“Time is not a luxury that I can afford,” Blague said sharply. “The lives of many people depend on my guidance.”
“Well, you should make time. Ardians are the most unstable archetype of dual consciousness. You could wind up causing more harm than good for your people, especially now that Orin has awoken you into this divergent realm.”
“Trust in your commanders to protect your community,” Aslock added. “Allow me to train you.”
Blague took a deep breath in an attempt to regain his focus. “So, you all operate with more than one person living within you?”
Aslock bowed his head. “I am a Tesdian, meaning my additive was my mentor, Soros. My duality is a teacher-student amalgamation.”
“And I am a Ludian,” Halewyn revealed. “My father’s DNA flows through me. Lineage is my merger. All of the archetypes contain unique characteristics and skills.”
Blague was taken aback. What was he hearing? How could any of this be true?
But it was… he knew it in his bones. Somewhere deep down since he was a young man, he knew there was something more than the ordinary life he led. And this was it. What he never could have dreamt possible was here, now, hitting him like a ton of bricks at the worst time, while reality was already slipping from his grasp. Further it slid, deeper on his way to oblivion he tumbled.
Come back, he told himself. Don’t falter.
The Sin blinked away his despair, resumed his self-control, and surveyed the area. “Is this all of you?”
“We do not count for much in numbers,” the Eldest said, but our pool of knowledge runs deep.”
“The Society was reportedly established centuries ago. If this was your study, then the chemicals… they were discovered long ago, weren’t they?” Blague questioned.
Halewyn raised his chin. “Neraphis is both science and art, which you will soon come to learn. And our focus is honed to Ayelan and Cryos, the two elements that disproved the theory of relativity as we know it.”
“And you were meant to guard this from the general population?”
“Until the Quake, that was our primary objective,” Aslock spoke. “But we will have plenty of time to discuss our history. That is, if you accept our aid.”
“If I do, I would need to be able to connect with the Sins in between training.”
Aslock denied the request. “I need your complete and undivided attention throughout your training. You must remain in solitude, away from the outside world. Our people will do what we can to monitor activity beyond this Citadel, but that is all we can offer.”
Blague contemplated his choices, knowing the wizard’s words were true, that he was in no condition to lead anyone. And a surrendered broken radio revealed his answer.
“This is good, Blague,” Halewyn declared, “because although Ardians are the most unstable, they also possess the utmost power.”
Sabin waved away a plume of steam from the steel door fastening behind him. The cloud dissipated to reveal a tunnel of bright light and flickering contraptions, an underground palace mended with earth. Volt soldiers walked past in orderly fashion, all decorated in hoodless cowls and equipped with glossy gadgets. Engineers strolled beside him wearing advanced headgear, babbling jargon to each other while children ran freely in between them. It was a community much like his own, operating in a world of their own.
No way a seasoned drunk created any of this. It had to be Coe, or some other Rogue. Seeing my father for all of ten minutes, I know better than to believe he’s capable of anything good.
Sabin knelt down to pet his companion. “Buddy, for the first time in years, I’m lost. I don’t know which way to turn or who to trust. Help me.
“I wish Dendrid had ended it for me on a high note. I could’ve been an ignorant hero. It would’ve been blissful. Now, instead, I’m stuck here questioning whether I ever really belonged with the Sins.”
Mars licked, nudged, and spun as if he understood what Sabin was communicating. He barked while padding forward, trying to get the lost Templos to follow.
Sabin lifted to trail his wolf, fading adrift in the process like a zombified shell wandering about a motorized castle.
Whether I ever belonged or not, they’ve accepted me as their own. They are my family now. Lito, Volaina, even Eugene… and Blague, my oldest friend. Why did you have to keep that fucking secret? All this time. Now look what you did… pulled at the string of our friendship until its last strand, testing the strength of our bond.
Oh look at me… heh… a sorrowful poet? Is that what I’ve become? Pfft. I can’t let my family be erased because of melancholy.
Engineers huddled around an unrolled parchment of drawing plans, pointing to marked off areas and gesturing to one another, exchanging words with a collective mind to complete their work. Efforts amongst the Rogues were more civilized and orderly than he was used to, and it was obvious that there was no sense of unease, nor any need for inspiration.
These rebels are a completed, well-oiled machine. I imagine this is what Blague’s end game would look like. His task is a bit more challenging though… some of those exiles were shipped off for a reason. Hell, we’re still on our way.
Mars made a sharp left into an untidy open chamber. He sniffed remnants of what looked to be Drino and Volaina’s armor before gently clenching his fangs around the spy’s arm-guard.
Sight of the room roused a bittersweet knot in the pit of Sabin’s gut. It looked as though his friends just rolled out of bed to grab food before starting their day. But that wasn’t true at all… they left, and weren’t coming back. He didn’t even know for sure whether they would cross paths again.
Mars dropped the piece of armor at his master’s feet and barked up at him, who in turn reached to inspect it.
We’ve shared everything together - stories, meals, laughs. You know more about my feelings for Lesh than anyone else. We were friends, Volaina, how could you betray me like this? How could you take all that was left of my family?
And Blague, to keep such a secret for so long. I could’ve spent my time differently had I known. I may have discovered that I had a niece and nephew before it was too late.
“I had a feeling I would find you here.” Sabin was startled by his father’s voice.
With each step, the old man’s wicker staff tapped to carry him closer to his son, until one last click stopped him just a few feet away. Feeble hands perched over the stick like an Egyptian cat, and a set of vibrant eyes peered patiently, awaiting some sort of acknowledgement.
Sabin placed the arm-guard back onto the table and passed a look to Mars, who calmly trotted over to sit next to Aldarian.
“You’re going to be persistent, aren’t you?”
The old man took a small step closer. “You speak as if you’re a prisoner here, my son. Surely there must be a reason that you’re still wandering these halls?” Aldarian questioned knowingly.
Sabin sneered. “It truly is amazing how much you believe the world revolves around you.”
“I’ll take the hit,” Aldarian said weakly. “But all my years on this earth have earned me some reliable instincts, and I don’t have the luxury of time to be passive about
addressing them.”
Sabin gave him a long, disgusted stare.
“At least let me give you the grand tour.” Aldarian tilted his head for Mars to follow, leaving no choice but for Sabin to reluctantly trail behind.
“Since you were a boy, you’ve had a knack for hunting. You’d follow at my heels whenever you saw those blades dangling down, and your mom would holler that you’d get cut. But not my boy. You imagined big things, didn’t you?” He laughed heartily at his own story. “Now look at you, your very own pair of String Blades strapped at your hips, and a loyal beast at your side. Nothing better!”
You should probably be more amazed that I’m still alive, prick.
With their right hands, Volt soldiers touched the Rogue symbol imprinted on their cowls as a sign of respect for their very old leader walking past, who winked in return. Only his top soldiers and overseers knew who puppeteered behind the curtains. To everyone else, Aldarian was just an old man who resided with the Rogues.
Sabin loathed the idea of it all, still struggling to believe his father could be worthy of any kind of importance.
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I don’t recall any of that,” Sabin finally spoke.
“Of course not! You were only three. But nonetheless, as Blague’s father would always tell us, the seeds had been planted,” Aldarian convinced himself, making way to his quarters separated from the main area. “It gives me joy that I may still have something to offer you, even if you can’t forgive me.”
Sabin couldn’t handle another one of his father’s pity parties, so he changed the topic. “Al and Tes must’ve inherited more brain power than me if they were able to discover your cover up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. They inherited your older sister’s belongings, including reports that were filtered to her before she passed. The reports were of an older male with golden eyes, sighted halfway around the world. Blague told you I was dead, but your niece and nephew believed my absence to be a mysterious disappearance. This allowed them to track down and discover a man who was never meant to be found. But their uncovering revived someone who had died long ago, someone who must now live in the horrors of his abandoned past.”
“This walk is going to be cut short if you’re going to force me into your self-pity,” Sabin grew irritated once again.
“I’m old, Sabin. I drift now and then into what I used to be. Please just excuse it.
“Al and Tes would have been your greatest pupils, both instilled with burning ambition. Rest their souls, I only wish that you found me sooner. My guidance, as it turns out, wasn’t enough to keep them alive.” Aldarian placed a shaky hand onto a panel in front of him.
“I wish I had known,” Sabin’s tone was full of scorn.
“Come, let us share some enjoyment instead of peril,” the Rogue leader pleaded as steam emitted from the circular entryway. “Let me pass on a relic from a former life, a life that I was proud of.”
Sabin sighed and followed his father into the chamber.
Is this what Eugene feels like all of the time? Glad I’m not him.
He entered the disarray that was Aldarian’s quarters and looked around the room. “I see why you prefer your office.”
Aldarian cackled, struggling to push clutter out of his way. “Help me here, son. Reach over this cardboard box and pull out the case over there.”
Sabin moved beside his father and leaned over the array of packages blocking his path, rummaging through the hoarded belongings until he reached for the metal chest. He pulled it from the pile and came down from his tippy toes to hand it over to Aldarian.
A prideful smile broke over the old man’s face while he wiped the dust from his ancient paragon. "I thought I would never find use for this. It truly would’ve been a shame. Blague and I went to great lengths to win over the Del'gaden lineage. This is a token of overcoming that struggle."
"One of your high-flying adventures?" Sabin forced himself to entertain.
"Without a doubt.” Aldarian placed his cane aside and unlocked the casing.
Sabin’s eyes shined upon seeing its contents, not at all expecting to be impressed.
"String Blades for a king, made of the finest metal and the most durable wire," the old man said, scooping up one of the sharp discs carefully to inspect it. "The edges will never dull.” He flicked the metal, causing a loud ping to resonate around them.
Sabin unsheathed one of his own weapons to compare.
"The quality is night and day," his father said.
"Hey! These babies have kept Mars and I alive for most of our lives."
"Maybe so, but these blades are too fine to ignore. Now, whether you like me or not, you'll be forced to give me a second thought once in a while. He placed the weapon back into its casing and held it out for Sabin to accept.
The hunter reached out to scrutinize the blades for himself.
"You'll have to adjust to the weight differential. I wouldn't run into war swinging just yet."
"Uh huh, we wouldn't want me taking off the wrong head or something.” Sabin smirked while he tested the mass of the sharp weaponry.
Aldarian hooted, proud that his son had inherited his long-standing sense of humor. "Come, my boy. Let us address some business together. My hunch is the questioning of Willard, the mole that almost ended our movement, will result in some valuable information for both of our groups."
"I'm not going to let you hold these over my head for long," Sabin replied, dangling the sharp blades in front of his face.
"Of course not, this will be of mutual benefit. Strictly business."
Sabin ignored the commentary and motioned for his father to lead the way.
"So, questioning, huh?"
"It’s synonymous with torture these days. Jayce is an effective tormentor. But, considering what war has done to the Rogues, to my grandkids, I wouldn't be surprised if Coe is handling this one himself."
"Was Coe the leader before you graced everyone with your presence?" Sabin asked sarcastically.
Aldarian nodded while trudging forward with his cane. "Not the most talented strategist, but loyal to the core in his cause. And he knows what he doesn't know."
"I'm assuming that means he peacefully stepped aside when you were brought in?"
"Even better, he sanctioned the search when the kids brought to him the possibility that I still had air in my lungs."
"Sounds like a gambler to me."
“Perhaps. But tell me this - how good does it feel when a gamble pays off?” He hooted once more. “Look at us… two sets of golden eyes targeting the same point. I would have never thought it possible again, not after Al and Tes. But alas, the world will be better now that we’ve reunited. You’ll see.”
Halewyn entered into a wide-open area of masoned ground. The blue tinted arena was scarred with scrapes and bullet holes, reeking of battle.
“Aslock will mentor you, but before you get to it, the three of us will have a short session to provide you with an introduction to our methodology.”
Blague looked up to the high ceiling, where streams of sapphire light leisurely slithered like eels to illuminate the vast space. “You have traces of Cryos all around your Citadel. What is its significance?”
Halewyn laughed. “You are jumping a few steps ahead. Very well, let us begin. Aslock…” He motioned to his fellow Elder.
The silver haired Neraphis paced around Blague. “There are four chemicals that we know of that do not behave in line with Einstein’s theory of relativity on a grand scale. Meaning, they have the potential to disrupt time and space as we perceive it. In this instance, we are talking more of space. The world as it exists at a molecular level is full of anomalies that, if seen with the naked eye, would tear the fabric of our reality. Molecules have the potential to teleport, transfer information without physical movement, create energy, become entangled with its perceiver. And that is just the tip. These chemicals also disprove string theory, which is a series of beliefs that bridged quant
um mechanics and relativity. Physicists have worked tirelessly to reconcile the differences between the world as we perceive it and the world as it behaves on a molecular level. However, physicists were missing a crucial piece of knowledge - proof of how our world actually behaves.
“I have studied and experienced events where molecular comportment has translated directly to our perception…”
Halewyn paced around the two of them, taking his time. “My great grandfather made the discovery of Cryos, long before the Quake made such a chemical visible to the public. This unearthing was the beginning of a new world of thought, one where if it were to fall into unruly hands, could be our undoing. Our ancestors were wise enough to foresee this potential for catastrophe and henceforth made a pact to remain in secrecy. You see, Blague, to the untrained, Cryos is just a chemical that attaches to its organism and acts like an irremovable stain. A great way to track a prisoner or an exile.” Halewyn motioned to Blague’s arm. “But what the untrained does not understand,” he spoke while his arm began to glow with Cryos, “is the power that they wield.” He then swung his arm around in a semi-circle and let out a short bellow. A wave of discharged energy wailed across the room and dissipated upon splashing into the wall.
Blague couldn’t believe his eyes.
“The irony, of course, is that the elites who have branded you inferior have actually equipped you with ungodly power,” Halewyn explained while curbing his Cryos energy with contorted fingers. “If you are ever able to wield it, that is.”
Aslock then asked, “The question then becomes, are you able to accept this mind-altering concept?”
“It seems I have no choice,” Blague responded.
“We will see,” Aslock said.
Blague touched his disheveled tattoo, pondering the possibilities it now presented. “I’m assuming Ayelan was this Society’s second discovery?”