by J. D. Dexter
“There was nothing to be done against the Cast Outs. They are a law unto themselves. The Clan Leader was unable to exact punishment or retribution of any kind for Anixia’s mother,” Red Guy says.
“Anixia absorbed her father’s adira. She snuck into the Cast Outs stronghold and absorbed all of them. She became obsessed with killing all of those who had been cast out. She hated them. Hated that they were outside the law of the Clans. Even though she was still in her youngling years, she decimated the cast out population. In ten of what you would call years, she absorbed the adira of over three hundred Ankarrahi,” Chapett continues his story.
I can’t say as I blame her. But she didn’t stop. That I blame her for.
“After each absorbed adira, her mind became darker and darker. Her adira was too bloated on power to be contained. She has been wreaking havoc in the known universes since her rise to power. She must be stopped—for the good of all races, universes, and peoples.”
I feel my chest tighten.
“That task falls to you.”
A hand crushes my lungs.
“You possess the power of the Crescent. On Ankarrah, I believe you are called a Creative. The two terms are one in the same. Creatives and Crescents are the distillation of all adira powers. You can create, destroy, absorb, and distribute an unlimited amount of power. Your body is constantly in the process of creating more adira. This has only happened one other time in the history of Ankarrah,” Red Guy informs me in imperious tones.
“My friends say I’m the third Creative in Ankarrah’s history.”
“No, there has only been one other.”
I nod, not really understanding, but feeling like they’re needing something from me.
“Crescent ruination conceived by Midnight. You are Anixia’s young. Pulled from her own power, you will be her final downfall. Our only caution to you is this: do not pull her adira into your own body. You must give it to the Ashen Angel, or Ankarrah and all known universes will be destroyed.”
That truth bomb rocks me to my core. “So, I’m supposed to kill Anixia, which means absorbing her power so that she ceases to exist. However, if I absorb her power personally, then I will be the destruction of the known universe?”
Kuni sighs again. “Stopping asking questions you just heard the answer to. That is a ridiculous habit.” She thumps me with her tail.
“Yes,” Chapett says.
“Then who is the Ashen Angel?” I ask the Council.
Sliding glances and darting eyes are my answer.
“You have no idea, do you?”
Chapett clears his throat. “That knowledge was lost to us when Anixia found out about Bulcepts over five hundred years ago. She destroyed the majority of our race, killing most of our Council at the time.” He bows his head.
“Protecting herself again, huh?”
He nods.
“How do you hide yourself these days?” I ask.
“We will not tell you that. In case you are captured or fail to fulfill your prophecy, you will not be able to share our location. Except for your part of the prophecy, all other memories will be removed from your mind.”
“Your future is already determined. Your fates have spoken,” Red Guy glares at me.
“My future is determined by my God; and he’s pretty stalwart on the idea of free will. My God is higher than your fates and your prophecies. I follow his will for my life, not yours or anyone else’s,” I huff at him.
“Your God cowers before the fates,” Red Guy says with a haughty sneer.
“That’s your option to think so. My God is all supreme, all knowing, and all powerful. If it’s his will that I go on this ridiculous journey, then I’ll be there with unhappy bells on. If not, you can kiss my butt as I leave.” I stab a finger at Red Guy.
Chapett wiggles; Red Guy stumbles and glares at him.
Tail thump to the rescue.
“We are not here to debate deities. We are here discussing your prophecy,” Chapett calls us back to order. “Anixia must be stopped before her adira kills her body and takes everything with her.”
I just nod.
Blue Lady waddles towards me and Kuni.
“Pick me up, Finley,” Kuni says.
I reach down and grab her, squishy under-body not really what I was expecting. She reminds me of M&Ms: hard candy outside, soft chocolate on the inside.
“Travel fast, travel well, defeat Anixia, save us all,” Blue Lady says.
The crowd of Bulcepts around us repeat her words. A collective inhale whistles through the space.
Blue Lady snorts on Kuni and me. A blanket of black fog escapes her nostrils, covering us in seconds.
I inhale to say something, but choke on the fog as it invades my lungs.
Well, crap on a cracker.
The black closes in around me.
Bonus news: at least I’m still conscious.
33
Traveling through universes is a lot different than I thought it would be. Since this is the first time I’m actually awake and cognizant of what’s happening, I try to soak up the experience as much as possible.
Rushing through what looks like a huge hallway lined in doors, it reminds me of the time Anixia pulled me into her essence the first time I tried to infiltrate Josh’s mind. Odd languages, or at least what I assume are languages, are outlined on plaques above the doors.
Some of the doors look like they belong on bank vaults; other doors look like port holes for giants. Every imaginable color and material are represented. One door even looks like dry ice smoke covering a cavernous void.
“Do you even know where we’re going?” Kuni asks me.
“Nope.” I shrug. “I’ve never been in charge of universe shifting, jumping, whatever you want to call it. I just end up where someone drops me.”
She snorts, her plush and squishy body moving over my hands like hot wax.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You must hear a lot of ridiculous things, then.”
She snorts again.
“Why? Do you know where we’re going?” I ask her.
“Of course. Vanaktym told me.”
“Sweet. Who’s Vanaktym?”
If she rolls her eyes any harder, she’s going to roll herself out of my arms. I readjust to keep her from tumbling to the floor.
“She was the blue Bulcepts who was talking to you at the end of your hearing.”
“I didn’t know I was at a hearing. I just thought we were having a conversation.” Another example of what assuming does to you.
“You desecrated the Ancestral Pyre, of course you had a hearing.”
“Right. Vomit, fire pit, gotcha. So?”
“So what?”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. Not that it matters since she’s not looking at my face. “So where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to Anixia so you can defeat her.”
I stop walking.
“I can’t got to Ankarrah right now! It has been stated, firmly and multiple times, that if I face Anixia before I’m ready then I will tip the scales in her favor and she will win in destroying me.” I put her down on the ground so we can face each other.
I’m graced with yet another eye roll. This chick would fit in well with the teenagers I’m familiar with. I cough to cover my smile.
“What a ridiculous idea! Who told you that?”
“Shavix among the most vehement.”
She looks thoughtful. Or, at least, I hope that’s her thoughtful face and she doesn’t just have to fart.
I was wrong. Waving a hand in front of my face, I try to breathe through my mouth.
“Some warning next time, please!” I lift the neckline of my shirt to cover my nose.
She grunts. “What?”
“Don’t foul the air so badly I can taste it and then claim not to know what I’m talking about. Rude.”
“I didn’t foul the air. If I had, you would have needed to cover your
ears, not your nose.” She rolls her eyes again.
Her nose slits flex and straighten. Her eyes dart around the open, empty hallway. “I, too, smell whatever that is. While unpleasant, it is not too terrible.”
“Not too terrible, she says.” I gag a little, the smell coating my tongue once again.
“Then what is that smell? It’s a horrifying mix of sulfur, sweaty butt, and dead fish.”
“I don’t know. Quit whining about it. It should pass soon, whatever it is. Back to Shavix saying you shouldn’t go back to Ankarrah until you’re training is done.”
“Exactly. He said I needed to learn how to use my powers before I faced off with Anixia. Kezi and Brock have been working with me, getting me into fighting shape. But since they aren’t Creatives, they aren’t really sure what else to teach me.”
I lower my shirt and take a tentative sniff. I cough. Not as bad, but certainly not daisy fresh.
“Creatives do not need to learn to use their powers. They are born with the knowledge of how to manipulate adira in all its forms.”
“Uh huh. Well, consider me broken then. Believe me when I say, I was not born with the knowledge of how to manipulate adira.”
She stares at me, her mouth a little slack. All her razor-sharp teeth on display. Her blue-gray skin a harsh contrast to the silver spears capable of destroying bone in one bite.
“But you must know how to use your adira. It should have been programmed into you,” she whines, bringing to mind teenage girls once again.
“Sorry.” I shrug my shoulders. “Outside of healing myself, creating shields and barriers, and apparently being untraceable on the Psy-Matrix, I don’t really know anything about my adira. I had to work my butt off just to learn those.”
She stamps her paws. All four of them. She looks like she’s vibrating.
“Can you project your adira into a weapon?”
“Um, does getting into someone else’s brain count?”
“Did it kill them?”
“No,” I shake my head. “Definitely not.” I hadn’t wanted to kill Josh, and Drake was already dead when I had done my brain zapping on him.
“Can you create multiples of yourself?”
“I’m going to go with another big no,” I say quietly. I can feel my eyebrows lifting towards my hairline.
“Can you—"
I raise my hand to cut her off. “Assume I can’t.”
She sneers at me. “You are a waste as a Creative.”
“Thanks so much, Kuni. That’s definitely going to help me defeat Anixia.” I roll my eyes at her this time.
She plops her butt on the floor, making a squelching noise. “Well, we’ll have to do some training here then.”
“You? You’re going to train me?” I cut off the laugh when she glares at me. “Sorry.”
“Yes, I’m going to train you. I might not have adira in my body, but I know how it’s used and how to manipulate it.”
“Why? How?”
“Because I was learning to be a Keeper. You can’t be a Keeper if you don’t know everything there is to know.” The duh is loud enough to hear even though it’s unspoken.
“All right, Obi Wan, teach me the way of the Force.” I draw a line of adira from my hand, making it glow.
She just looks at me, a bored expression on her face. “I’m not Obi Wan or Yoda or Darth anything. Quit joking around; this is serious business.”
My adira light saber fades into nothingness. “Fun sucker,” I say under my breath.
“I heard that.”
I roll my eyes. Man, she brings out my own inner sulky teenager.
“First, how do you understand your adira?” she asks.
“Um, I know that I’m a being of spirit and essence. The physical form I wear is simply a manifestation of what I think I should look like.”
“Right. Change shape.” She nods at me.
I grab at my hair in frustration. “I don’t know how.”
“What? How could you not know how?”
“Now who’s asking ridiculous questions? I just told you why I can’t do anything normal with my adira. I’ve learned from Brock and Kez that changing shape is a pretty rudimentary skill on Ankarrah. I just don’t know how to do it.”
“But…but you should have this knowledge inside you. It shouldn’t need to be taught.” Her eyes are huge in her shark-shaped face. If she had eyebrows they might be on her back, her eyes are so wide.
I shrug my shoulders again. “Sorry. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“No wonder Shavix said not to go to Ankarrah until you were trained,” she says, although more to herself than to me.
I stand there, feeling a bit like a loser. The things that are easy for Kezi and Brock have never come easily to me. I’ve had to work harder and longer simply to erect shields. It took me close to a month to stop getting hit with bullets.
It took me even longer to send healing energy to the places on my body that we hurting or injured. Kezi and Brock both healed almost instantaneously. It took me hours to figure out how to send enough adira through my body to heal it completely.
I should be as powerful as Hulk, but I’m trapped in Banner’s body.
“Are you listening to me, Finley?” Kuni asks, a sharp note in her voice.
“Sorry, I was thinking.”
She sighs heavily. “Please pay attention. Is there any spot inside you that feels foreign or alien?”
I do a quick body scan. “No, not really. Everything inside me is what I’m familiar with.”
She growls a little under her breath. “It might make you feel anxious or even a little scared.”
“No, sorry.” I shake my head.
“Does it make you feel happy or sad?”
“These questions are making me feel sad,” I say with a pout.
“Stop being a baby. I’m trying to help you.” She stamps her paw on the floor.
“No, nothing makes me feel happy or sad. At least not as I think I understand your statement.”
“What about powerful?”
I shake my head.
“Any place that just knows things?”
A quick tug in my chest. “Yeah. Yeah, I feel that. It’s how I work—or rather, worked—on my patients when I was seeing them for corrective body work.”
“Finally!” She stands up on all four legs again. “Describe this feeling to me.”
“A part of me just knew what was wrong, how to fix it, and how long it would take to reach complete healing. I would still do the typical thing in doing full muscle testing, but that was for their benefit, not mine.”
She nods her head, a smile stretching her mouth. “That is where your adira is housed. Does it only work when you were working with others?”
“Usually. Every once in a while when I was a teenager and experimenting with healing myself, I would get this fuzzy, hot sensation in my chest. I just thought it was blood loss and guilt for hurting myself.” I hunch my shoulders.
“Let’s try this.” She steps forward, and wraps her teeth razors around my lower leg. Blood gushes from the myriad wounds, my blood soon painting the floor red.
“What the heck, Kuni?” I lower my hands to cover my leg only to pull them back as she snaps at me again.
“Only use your adira. You already know how to heal. You don’t need your hands to do it.”
I glare at her.
Focusing on the fizzy sensation in my chest, I push my adira down to my leg. Within seconds the blood stops flowing, and the wounds heal into normal, healthy looking skin.
“Oh. My. Gosh,” I whisper. “I’ve never been able to heal myself that fast. It usually takes at least a couple minutes, even now. It used to take me hours, sometimes even days depending on the wound.”
She smiles, arrogance on her face. “I’m an excellent teacher.”
“Uh huh. Do something else,” I say, urging her on. “I don’t even know how I did that, so I need to figure that part out.” Now that I know where my adira i
s and that I’ve been using it my entire life, I finally feel like I could be a contender in the fight against Anixia.
She jumps up, level with my shoulder, and snaps her jaws at me again. I leap out of the way, but not before a sensation of tearing engulfs my upper arm.
As she lands back down on the floor, she has my left arm, from just below my shoulder joint, in her mouth. She casually drops it on the ground. Much like a cat bringing a dead mouse to its owner. She’s not even covered in blood.
The fizzy feeling in my chest zings to my left side. Amid a wash of warmth and tingling, sparking cold flashes down my nerve endings. As I watch, my arm is reforming from nothing.
Not the spider spinning the web of muscle fibers, veins and arteries, fascia, and bone that I witness when I heal myself or others. No, this is like watching a Polaroid picture develop as you wave it in the air. Almost like magic.
“You didn’t even have to think about it that time. Your body just took over and healed you,” Kuni says with a smirk.
I barely hear her as I continue to gape at my new arm.
“Why aren’t you covered in blood?”
“Because you aren’t actually human. You expected to see blood before. Have you ever seen Kez or Brock bleed?”
I shake my head. “No, the only time was when Stephanie had us in the thrall of a loony-toons gas. I saw everyone puking up blood and other…stuff.”
“Like you said before, Ankarrahi are beings of spirit and essence. Not blood and bone.”
I feel my entire world tilt on its axis.
“So I’ve only ever bled because my mind thought I should?”
She shrugs her shoulders, looking like she’s plumping her shell. “Minds are capable of much. They shape who we are, how we perceive life, how we feel, and how we live. Minds should never been underestimated.”
I nod absently.
“Change shape,” she orders with a honk, snapping me out of my daze.
“Into what? I’ve never been able to do it, so I don’t know the sequence of events that would lead to actually successfully doing it.”
“Change into me.”
I look at her askance. “I thought I could only change shape within the same kind of species.”
She just snorts at me. “You’re a Crescent, a Creative. You can do or be almost anything you want.”