Fragments of Fantasy

by Marion Lanier

water. His words all came out in a rush.

  “I dream about my mom. She died when I was a baby, in a house fire. I see her, screaming, with the house burning down around her.”

  His eyes were distant, haunted; not at all like that of a ten year old boy.

  “Do you know what hypnosis is, Lucas?”

  “Yeah. It’s when someone puts you to sleep and they make you bark like a dog or do the chicken dance.”

  She laughed at that and got a smile out of him. He had such a sweet smile.

  “Not quite, but you have part of it right. Let me see if I can help you. I want you to close your eyes for me. Good. Now I’m going to count to three. When I reach three, you will fall into a trance. Are you ready?”

  He nodded, sucking on his candy. “No chicken dances.”

  “I promise. Here we go. One… Two… Three.”

  At three, she touched his forehead and he fell back into his chair. She watched carefully as an image appeared above his head; a dark haired woman screaming for her son and dying in fire and ash. Lucas wasn’t just dreaming about his mom. He was remembering it. He had been in the house when she died.

  Ms. Monet touched the image with a finger and the memory vanished. She rolled a freshly minted candy around in her palm, this one black with purple spots. She tucked her hand behind her back as Lucas blinked sleepily and came back to reality.

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “How’s that? Feel like a chicken?”

  Lucas smiled. “No. I feel better though. Maybe I just needed another nap.”

  “Wonderful! That should do it for today. If you have any more bad dreams, come and see me okay?”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  After Lucas left her office, Ms. Monet opened the last jar on her candy shelf. She looked at the boy’s memory in her hand, considering, and then popped it into her mouth.

  Mmm… A sour one, indeed.

  Homecoming

  The gates of Heaven were shattered, broken things.

  Lucifer walked the streets of his home, taking it all in, savoring each step. From here, he could hear a choir of Fallen, singing victory chants. The golden streets were wet with the blood of the holy and littered by snow white feathers. Ivory towers burned in the distance and the screams of the Remnant were a low, rumbling undertone to the entire scene.

  It. Was. Beautiful.

  He made his way deeper into the Ivory Court, his soldiers saluting with their swords as he passed. There were pockets of resistance still, but the Host was routed. They would stay and be killed or flee to the Land of Men. It didn’t matter. It was done. He had won. Yet it didn’t feel complete.

  He was standing in the center of Heaven, his Fallen running the streets and the Hosts of Heaven scattered to the wind. He should be pleased.

  Instead, Lucifer felt empty, truly empty inside. He had feared this all along. It was the only thing that made any sense at all, the way things were.

  He stared at the Throne of Creation. It was empty.

  Father was gone.

  The emptiness inside him threatened to smother him completely. It was no wonder the angels had been so easily routed. They had nothing left to fight for.

  Lucifer fell to his knees before the Throne and wept. After all this time, all he wanted was to be close to Him again.

  Killing the Dawn

  There were seven of us. Always seven.

  Seven priests, sworn to the White Lady. Seven knights, bound by oaths of blood. We were men of character, of strong will and morality. Once. The White Lady betrayed us, corrupted by an ancient evil. The light faded from our blades and our songs lost their power. The corruption spread, twisting us into shadows of men.

  I walked around the room, cutting sigils into my brothers’ chests. Their blood ran freely, pooling into a circle cut into the stone floor. It was agonizing work, but cleansing, as if I were digging the filth out of their flesh. I finished the ritual on Marius. He was the last. He hadn’t flinched or cried out during the cutting. None of them had. I looked at each of them and nodded.

  Their eyes were dark, haunted things. Each of them knew what was coming, what we must do. We were committed. I said the words and my brothers joined in. It had been years since we had summoned her. It felt odd, like calling to a stranger. I felt the energy building. Good. I had been worried she would not answer. We finished the prayer as power exploded through the room.

  She appeared in a swirl of purple and black, like a flower blooming into existence. Even turned to darkness, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Her skin was the color of fresh snow, dark hair cascading down her back in waves. Her frosty blue eyes took them all in. Lips the color of blood smiled at them, a cold thing that didn’t touch her eyes.

  “What is this, Daryth? Not quite the reunion I had envisioned.”

  Her voice was melodious, enchanting. I shook off her spell.

  “I’m sorry, my Lady. We cannot continue in your service.”

  “Oh? You’ve served me the past thirty years. I need a reason for your lack of conviction, Daryth.”

  I met her glare with a steady gaze and unsheathed my sword. The godblade had once been a thing of beauty, shining with the pure white light of the Dawn. Now, it radiated darkness, feeding on the light in the room; just holding the sword made my arm feel numb.

  “I have not lost my conviction, my Lady. I still serve the White Lady.” His jaw tightened, eyes flashing. “You are her no longer.”

  A primal sound came from the Lady’s mouth and she flung her power towards me. It arced like lightning, purple and white streams splaying against an invisible barrier. The blood circle in the floor absorbed the magic, glowing brightly.

  She hissed in anger. “You will regret this. I will make you pay. A hundred years, a thousand, you will be damned to walk this place. No one will offer you shade or water. You will be scorned and exiled all of your days.”

  Six swords slid from their scabbards. I nodded to my brothers. Tears stained their cheeks and many of them trembled visibly. Still they followed me, marching towards the fallen goddess.

  I stood inches from the Dark Lady, her face twisted into primal anger and fear. She spat at me, the spittle blistering my face.

  “Do not fret, my Lady. You will have all the time you wish to torment us. Our lives are yours, as we swore to you upon our rebirth.”

  I turned my back to her, raising my sword to my forehead. My brothers did the same, encircling the Lady.

  “Dawn to dusk, we serve the Light.

  Dusk to dawn, we fight the Night.”

  My prayer was but a whisper.

  “The Dark has come. We fight.” I said.

  “We fight!” Six voices echoed, shouting in rage, in fear.

  “For the Dawn.”

  “For the White Lady!”

  Seven swords pierced seven souls, binding the Dark Lady forever.

  Resignation

  “I received this sword from the King himself.” I held the naked blade in front of me, the gleaming metal unblemished, perfect. It was a lie. That sword was as twisted as the man who’d given it to me.

  The farmer cowered in a quivering mess in front of me, muttering prayers with eyes shut tight.

  “I helped put down a revolt in the city and personally saved the Crown Prince. He knighted me that very same day.”

  I could hear my fellows in the back of the farmhouse, smashing things, yelling. These folks hadn’t paid their taxes and so the King’s Blades had come to collect.

  “It was a good day. I was proud to serve. The King was a great man…”

  The big man sobbed. “Please. We don’t have anything! Please, let us be.”

  Carson came from the back of the house, dragging out a girl who looked barely off her mom’s apron strings. He tossed her on the floor and started pawing at her.

  My stomach twisted. Over the past two years of service, I had killed men and women who had deserved better. I had “confiscated” funds and property in the King’s na
me. The deeds had tainted my soul as surely as rust on a blade. I had no honor left.

  The farmer wailed wordlessly, watching Carson tear at his daughter’s skirts. I saw the pain and terror in his eyes and, deep down, the anger. It was buried too deep, though, smothered by fear.

  This man, these people were the ones I had thought to be protecting. The weak, the helpless, the commonfolk. People like I had once been. In that moment, something changed.

  “Get off her, Carson.”

  “Bugger off, Jameson. I saw her first. You can have her next. I’ll save you a piece.”

  I never much liked Carson. My sword felt light in my hands, lighter than it had in years. Carson’s head rolled across the floor and the girl screamed bloody murder. Her dad scooped her up in his arms and scuttled back into the corner, whispering to her, trying to calm her down.

  Jackson and Hughes stalked through the doorway.

  “What… What are you doing, Jameson?”

  “I’m done. I won’t hurt these people. I won’t do the King’s dirty work anymore.”

  “You killed Carson?”

  “It was better than he deserved and you know it. Leave, now.”

  “You know we can’t do that. You’re a traitor, Jameson.”

  “The King has betrayed his own people. He is not worthy of my loyalty.”

  Hughes put his hand on his sword. Jackon’s was already out of its sheath. “Traitor’s fetch a hefty reward.”

  I gave him a humorless grin. “You best come collect, then.”

  As they rushed me, the big farmer came bellowing out of the corner wielding a wooden chair, smashing it into Jackson’s head. He went down in a heap. Hughes barely got his sword clear in the confusion and went down quickly.

  I smiled at the farmer, the first