‘Wondering if you’re ever going to get to the point. Dad, that bluntness you used earlier? Yeah, use it again.’
He stares at me, like, really stares at me. It’s as if he’s trying to determine whether or not I can handle what he’s about to say. I give him an impatient look and he finally speaks.
‘You and I are not like normal humans. We’re known as the Chosen and possess, how should I say it? We possess abilities that would be thought impossible. Think of, I don’t know, think of shape-shifters, illusionists, seers—like me.’
It takes a moment for me to reply. ‘…Um, come again?’
‘I know, I know, but just stay with me because this, well, this is the hardest part to understand.’
‘The hardest part, huh?’
‘These abilities that we have, whatever they may be, come from an ancient magic so old we don’t even know when it came to be, or if it always has been.’
‘…O …K. This all sounds completely legitimate and not invented at all.’
He struggles to continue, opening his mouth and closing it again. ‘Look, this… this isn’t easy to explain to you. All these years and you’d think I’d have some notion of how to approach this. I’ve thought about how to tell you and I knew this day was coming, but—’
‘Wait. Hold it. You knew my human glow-stick show was going to happen today?’
He rubs the back of his neck. ‘Well, not today. I knew it was going to happen sometime soon, though. I can’t see everything in the future, and when I have a vision it’s not exactly time specific. As for the “glow-stick show,” that was your awakening as a Chosen. What happened to you was a burst of dormant magic becoming conscious.’
‘And you didn’t think, “Oh, hey, maybe I should tell Leonie she’s going to become a fireball sometime soon?” I mean, that would’ve been slightly considerate of you seeing as I thought I was, y’know, dying.’
‘I’m so sorry. You have to understand that there’re some things I can’t tell you about the future. Sometimes, bad things happen when you know what lies ahead.’
‘So in this fantastical imagination of yours, ye mighty oracle—which I’m certainly impressed with, by the way—where exactly are all these, um, magical Chosen? Or are we a race of just a few? Let me guess: there’s not many of us. Just you and me, right?’
‘Actually, we are many. Considerably less than humanity, but we are many.’
‘Then why don’t I see people flying around or unnecessarily throwing cars about with their minds for the hell of it? That’s what I’d do.’
‘Because the Chosen live in Duwyn, a different realm.’
‘Wow. Another realm, huh? Your zealous delusions continue to impress me. Is this where we fly off to Olympus or Valhalla or Heaven or something?’
‘Can you please stop being sarcastic for a moment and let me continue?’
‘No, don’t think I can, but you can continue.’
His lips thin in irritation before he continues. ‘Within Duwyn is a place called the Imperium, and it serves as the governing hierarchy of Duwyn.’
‘What, like the Houses of Parliament?’
‘In a sense, although things are a lot stricter in Duwyn. The Imperium is also where the majority of Chosen live. There are four walls separating each district, bigger than you can even imagine, and Chosen live within them. They span miles, so it’s not as confined as it sounds. There’re also cities outside of the Imperium and across Duwyn, though the laws of the Imperium still apply to them. Some Chosen even have permission to live in the human realm, although there’s fewer than a hundred, probably.’
‘Human realm?’
‘It’s what the Chosen call this realm, the one we’re in now.’
‘Seriously? Loving the Realminess. Though, they could’ve come up with something way cooler, like the “Insania Realm” or the “Psychotica Realm”.’
‘Anyway. It’s not exactly uncommon for there to be oblivious Chosen living in the human realm, children whose magic hasn’t manifested yet—like you—and a select few who’ve been given permission to live there by the Imperium—as I have.’
I nod. ‘I see. So, let me just, y’know, process all of this. Hmm. OK. After a prolonged reflection on this little tête-à-tête, I’ve come to the irrefutable diagnosis that, Dad… you’re crazy. Yeah, that fits. And I’m being polite when I say crazy, ’cause that word is somewhat holding back from the true level of craziness you’re displaying right now.’
He sighs. ‘I get it. It’s hard to accept.’
‘It is hard to accept your dad is displaying diehard symptoms of schizophrenia.’
Undiminished, he says, ‘Maybe if I show you?’
‘Show me?’
‘The future. I can’t usually see someone’s future when making skin contact with them, but I’m kind of hardwired into yours, so I might be able to see your future on demand.’
‘“Your future on demand!” You should suggest that line to Virgin Media; you’d make a fortune. And just for curiosity’s sake, why exactly are you “hardwired” with my future?’
‘I make it my job to know what lies ahead of you.’
I lean away from him. ‘I’m not weirded out at all.’
‘Don’t take it the wrong way. I only do it because I want to keep you safe. You are my daughter. I love—’
I put my hands up as if shielding myself from his affection. ‘Oh God, Dad, no, just no, stop right there. Seriously.’
‘OK, OK. So, want to see a glimpse of your future?’ he says, as if he were asking if I take sugar with my coffee.
‘Sure. Why not? Weird days should only get weirder, right?’
‘Prepare yourself. Visions can sometimes give you nose-bleeds. And you might vomit. You can get headaches, too.’
‘I’ve already got a headache.’
‘Come on, Leonie, if I show you a glimpse of the future and you’ve got so much doubt in what I’m saying, then when you do see it the shock will be much worse for you.’
‘I’ll take my imaginary chances.’
‘Fine, but try to believe in me.’ He comes over to the sofa and kneels on the floor, reaching for my face. I flinch. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘…Nothing.’ Everything. This whole thing is the definition of weird. Nonetheless, I lean towards him and his fingers press against my temple. It’s probable that doctors would tell me indulging Dad’s delusions is not advisable, but what the hell?
‘Give me a moment.’ His eyes are closed and his expression is tranquil. I feel embarrassed for him, although it’s amusing to see Dad immersing himself in such a strange fantasy. Looking at this seriously, however, I might actually have to contact a doctor—for both of us. ‘There,’ he says. ‘I have it.’
‘Oh! I see it!’ I say. ‘I’m sitting, yes, I’m definitely sitting down on a chair with, let’s see, with my dad in front of me, who’s suddenly developed symptoms of Nutcase Syndrome, and… oh wait, that’s the here and now.’ I’m about to push his hands away from me. ‘I’m starting to think it’s you who needs to go to the hos—’
Like a brush of paint swiping across my vision, the living room changes into fire and darkness and smoke and ruin. I leap up from my seat with a gasp.
‘Dad?’ He’s no longer with me.
Where the carpet was is now a famished ground, cracked and scorched, and there’s a tide of heat that makes my throat itch and long for water. The air is stifling. Debris of destroyed buildings surrounds me, smoke filling up my lungs. In the distance I see the remains of a gothic skyscraper. It glints silver and by the way it’s leaning it’s going to fall.
This world is red: the sky, the atmosphere, the ground, the remains of buildings—all dark red. I glance at the sun: instead I find a blazing, blood-red eclipse. Silence reigns in the sinister world—it’s almost a noise itself.
My foot hits something soft. I look down. I wish I hadn’t. Bodies—everywhere. Hundreds of them. A battlefield. They’re covered in ash and dirt, some with the
ir eyes open, distant. I move back, hyperventilating, then turn, preparing to run, when I realise what I’m facing. Lying against a large slab of concrete are four corpses, and though I’ve never seen these people in my life, I feel like I have, because a great welling of shame envelops me as if I should feel guilty for their deaths. I focus on the girl with bright blue hair. I know you, I think. Oh God, I know you. But I don’t.
The ground beneath me begins to tremble, the pieces of rubble bouncing and clattering. I peer up and my jaw drops. The sky is folding in on itself, the remaining stars glinting into non-existence. The sun becomes distorted under the heavy red mist.
‘Da-Dad? Dad! I don’t want to be here! Please, let me out! Now! Dad! Please!’
The quaking stops—then I hear something, no, someone, emerging from the midst of the chaos, and a breath escapes me. The debris clears from her path as if some invisible force is shifting it, and around her is what I can only describe as an aura radiating an unfathomable darkness, but that’s not what bewilders me. Though the girl is older than me, I think… no, I’m certain this girl is me.
Her clothes are ripped and dirty, her body cut and bleed-ing. Her face is impassive and her eyes reflect such lifelessness, such emptiness, that it sends a shiver through my body. Her expression may be indifferent, and yet, as if we’re connected, as if I can feel her heart beating in my chest, I feel her rage, her determination, her immeasurable, consuming despair, as if it were my own. But there is something more than anguish in her: there is a purpose; there is an end. She holds her palms out at her side and around them forms a dark vapour.
‘Please, don’t!’ A voice. A man’s voice unfamiliar to me, but I know it. I know it with my entire being. ‘Don’t let this world end in sorrow! I beg of you, Leonie!’
My other self stops, though she doesn’t turn her gaze. ‘What use is this world to me without you in it?’ It is my voice, and yet so foreign to me. She walks through the path of destruction, the distortion of the world increasing. I, however, turn to the one who has spoken, the one who I’d live and die for, but before their figure moulds into place—
I jump onto my feet, slamming against the wall of the cottage. I stare wide-eyed at Dad, trying to regain control of my breath. He looks just as horrified as I feel.
The living room.
I’m back in the living room.
I love this living room.
‘Wh-what just…?’ I stutter.
‘The future,’ he says, as if showing someone the future is an everyday thing.
‘The future,’ I repeat dumbly. ‘The future. That was the future. My future.’ My heart won’t stop hammering against my chest; my head won’t stop spinning and whirling.
‘The Ch-Chosen. You weren’t lying. Not nuts. Chosen exist. You’re Chosen.’
‘Yes, and you are, too, Leonie.’
Well, wave bye-bye to my disbelief, because I’m now certain that what I saw was real, though unreal, as it has yet to happen.
‘How do I get unChosen?’ I ask, numb. ‘What… what was wrong with me?’ I ask. ‘Why was I there?’
His eyes narrow, though not at me. ‘I… don’t know. I have visions of the future, but I don’t always know how certain paths begin. I’ve never seen that before.’
‘Why have you never told me a-any of this? I-I don’t get this. I don’t understand. Why have you never told me that I’m… Chosen. Why have you kept this a secret?’
‘I… because…’ He pauses. ‘Sit down, Leonie. You look like you’re about to faint.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Please, sit down.’
‘Answer me!’
‘I will, I promise, but please, sit down first.’
So I sit down, or maybe the right description would be collapse, on the sofa. Dad comes over to me, handing me a tissue from his pocket. I look at it, questioning.
‘Your nose is bleeding,’ he says.
‘O-oh.’ I take the tissue and wipe my nose. ‘What I saw, where I was… where is that place? Where was I?’
‘The Imperium, home of the Chosen. You were within the walls of the Imperium.’
The home of the Chosen, and sometime in my future, something will destroy it.
‘What use is this world to me…?’
Is that something me?
The TV turns on, scattering my thoughts as it flips through the channels, and the lights in the room flicker. I look at my hands, wondering if I’m causing the disturbance, until the TV screen goes black and the lights stay off, and there’s a knock on the door.
‘And here they’ve come, of course.’ He sighs. It’s not one of his usual ‘Dad’ sighs, but a heavy one, full of knowing and dread and regret.
‘Wait. What?’ I say. I can’t concentrate with all the thoughts screaming in my head. ‘Who’s come? What’s going on? Dad? Dad.’
‘They’ve come for you, Leonie, now that you’ve awoken as a Chosen.’
Goosebumps prickle up my skin.
‘I didn’t want them to find you.’ He mutters it, but I swear that’s what he said. He stands up from the sofa. ‘It’s OK. I’m here. Don’t be afraid.’
‘Wait!’ I grab his arm as he nears the door.
He smiles, and it’s a sad one. ‘When I open this door, everything will change for you, and I’m sorry. It’ll be all right, though, I promise. It will be all right.’
‘Then… why do you look terrified?’
He goes to speak, but frowns instead. ‘Be brave, Leonie.’ And he opens the door.
KORREN
THE SHORTCOMINGS OF SERVITUDE
This engulfing darkness hasn’t always been home. I’ve felt the warmth of the sun on my back, had the wind brush through my hair, gazed upon a vast, starlit sky. But I’ve known none of these things for… I don’t even know for how long anymore, and I don’t really care. I’m glad to be confined to these shadows, glad that this is the punishment for what I did. I’ve existed here like you might exist inside a dream: aware, but not completely, with eyes glossed over and the world somewhat unreachable. This is a place where senses don’t exist, where past, present and future are mere concepts, and where pain and happiness are foreign sensations. Give me eternity here and it’ll be a blessing… not that I deserve one.
I hear something, though I can’t say what it is. Am I imagining things now? Have I finally lost my mind to the darkness? Whatever it is, my usually dazed mind becomes alert, and I sit straighter. The noise seems to be getting closer, and I’m acutely aware that it threatens my nothingness.
Just leave me here, I want to say. Let me stay.
As if the darkness surrounding me is a curtain, it lifts slightly so light spills in. I turn my head away. Ah, warmth. It slips into my world of shadows, bringing with it a piercing light. Half of me welcomes the light; the other half curses it. Light brings life, sensations, memories, and I don’t want to remember anything.
Damn it. Why can’t you just let me—?
Footsteps. And then…
Figures come and stand over me. I look up at them with mild interest; that is, until they grab my arms and pull me up. My muscles are weak; so, as I fight against them, I know how pointless it is. I can’t let them steal me away from here, though. They’re trying to take me away from the shadows, my solitude. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay.
I continue to struggle until one of the figures slams me to the ground, and my world spins into darkness.
_________________
Before I even open my eyes, I know I’m no longer in the shadow cells, but in a cage. I feel the cold metal against my back, a dazzling and artificial light entering through the gaps. I move, and there’s a sharp pain in my head.
I’m in a hallway. In front of me is a cage with a kytaen inside, and more cages in front of him. I glance behind me: another kytaen and, behind her, more cages.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, my voice so hoarse it carries no strength.
‘I am not sure,’ the kytaen behind me
says. Despite her small stature, she exudes strength.
‘How did we… get here?’ I say.
‘Chosen came and took a dozen of us from Aris,’ she replies.
‘They transported us to The Core,’ I hear another kytaen say, though I can’t see him, ‘so we thought maybe they had arranged a keeper for us, then we were put in these cages…’
Despite this, no one is in a panic. Typical of my kind to be so resigned. There was once a time I would have been frustrated, even angry over that, but now…
I hear a door opening and the cages roll forward, without assistance, and are taken outside. I flinch, the sudden ray of sunlight blinding me. I rub my eyes and look around. The first thing I notice is the sky; that endless, dazzling sky. But as my eyes wander down, that sudden exhilaration disperses.
We’re in a large, open space enclosed by a circular steel wall. I search the walls for any sign of Chosen, but find no one. The ground is dusty with little grass, and the air is dry and humid. At first I thought we were being taken to the Beasts’ Fighting House, a place where two kytaen are pitted against each other and Chosen bet on which will kill the other. But that can’t be what this is, for two reasons: first, because there are more than two of us; and second, because there are no spectators. Then again, I have been confined for… well, a long time. Things may have changed.
The cages wheel themselves into a large circle so that we’re spaced out from one another. I count over a dozen kytaen, and I get to have a proper look at them. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my own kind. I even recognise a few of them.
A slight wind pushes the dirt along the ground, skimming over the wheels of the cage and through the bars. The silence is profound as we all wait. What we are waiting for, I don’t know.
Then, a voice rings out through the air, though I can’t see anyone. ‘This test is being supervised by Council members Anala Froi, Felix Harris and Orion Rah-uh.’
Test?
‘It has been arranged for the purpose of choosing a kytaen for the designated Chosen,’ the woman continues.
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