by A. R. Crebs
Lita exhaled, her tears slowly coming to a halt. “I know,” she whispered. “I just…feel so useless.”
“You’re not useless.” Dovian planted a quick kiss on her forehead.
Lita pushed herself back into her seat at the bedside, her fingers pulling back her hair. “I kinda am. If I had training with you and Euclid like I originally wanted, I could’ve done more. I know I could have. To have powers like yours, I could’ve cleared the room of those…um…people.” For the first time, Lita was afraid to call them humans. She loved humanity. But the display today had left her feeling horror-struck. She cleared her throat. “I heard Euclid vaporized a guy.”
Dovian gasped. “Euclid! What happened to him? And, no, he didn’t vaporize a guy. It’s much more…complicated than that.”
“He stood immediate trial by the council. They’ve revoked his status,” Lita replied.
Groaning, Dovian covered his eyes with his arm. “I was afraid of that.”
“He’s confined to Ives until proof of good behavior. Any requests to advance to other statuses are also under scrutiny.” Lita’s frown deepened.
“He’s not going to take this well.”
“Dovian…” she began. “Is Euclid alright?”
“Is he alright? In what sense do you mean?”
Lita looked to the side, tugging on her fingers. “Is he mentally alright?”
Dovian gave a small scoff. “He may be a bit depressed and hard to deal with at times, but I don’t think Euclid is suffering from any major illness.” As Dovian spoke, his smile faded. “He’s stressed. He’s seen a lot of bad lately. Nothing to worry about. Why are you so concerned?”
“I mean, it’s just…people are saying he was attacking the humans, some of them completely unprovoked. Others say he killed a man. Remember when he told you he lost his ability to hear the Heaven song? And, and then there was that thing…a long time ago. When he killed that Russian man.” She suddenly fell silent.
“The Heaven song was only a short stint. He said he was fine.” Dovian gave Lita a bewildered look. “What Russian man?”
Lita’s eyes widened. A quiet squeal slipped past her lips. “Uh…I forget.”
Dovian abruptly sat up. This time there was no tug at his brain. In fact, he felt nearly perfect. His powers had returned. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he tilted his head to catch her sight.
“What Russian man, Lita?”
“Oh, there was a war. A good while back. Russians were drilling for resources. They were destroying ancient artifacts. A great lot went missing. Rumors spread of Sorcēarians stealing them. Others suspected they were destroyed during the battle. This created a bunch of conflicts. You both were on the case.” Lita mumbled, her eyes fogging over as she recalled the memories. “That time you never came home.”
“Sarkov,” Dovian whispered.
Lita nodded. “Sarkov and Asahni. It was right after Bayerd’s death.”
“But Euclid didn’t kill Sarkov. The Russian died in a car accident. It was after that Euclid took the man’s identity…with the approval of the council for espionage purposes.”
Lita shook her head. “Sarkov wrecked because of Euclid. I mean, I was shocked he wasn’t reprimanded for it. Instead, the Elders allowed him to preserve the body to be used once Euclid was finished with his mission. That in itself was risky for Sorcēarian rules.”
“The Elders knew nothing of this. They would not condone Euclid murdering a man just to take his identity. It was an accident. That’s the only reason it was ever allowed, though walking a thin line between what was acceptable by our own standards. It was a necessary means to stop the war.” He had never heard this side of the story before. Sir Gaius wouldn’t allow Euclid to get away with murder. After a moment’s thought, he eyed his cousin suspiciously. “How was Euclid responsible?”
Lita continued. “Euclid scared the poor man nearly half to death. Sarkov drove off the bridge and ended up drowning. Euclid provoked the man’s response with the use of manipulation. He watched the wreck, didn’t save Sarkov. He wanted the man’s place, so he killed him.”
“Where have you heard these things? None of these are true to my knowledge.”
Lita swallowed hard. “I, uh…I saw them.”
“Saw…them?” Dovian’s expression softened. “Your visions again?”
Lita nodded.
Dovian sighed. “You know those can’t be trusted.”
“But why not?” Lita whined. “I saw them, clear as day! They burn through my mind as if they were memories of my own! Euclid killed Sarkov. After that, he lost his ability to hear the Heaven Song. He’s been acting unusual ever since!”
“Have you spoken with the Elders about this?” Dovian asked.
Lita shook her head. “I thought everyone knew.”
“No,” Dovian whispered. “Nobody knows of this. I would have been notified.”
This was big news. If Euclid had indeed killed Sarkov for his identity simply to get close to the enemy, it went against the Sorcēarian code. He would be thrown into the towers behind spellbound gates.
“Should I tell Sir Gaius?” Lita felt ashamed. Her visions told her more than even what the Elders knew, and she had said nothing to anyone after all this time.
“No. Let me handle it, Lita.” Dovian fell to silence.
“I should’ve said something sooner. I…it’s just that many people don’t understand.” She lowered her head. “I don’t really understand either. They’ve been occurring more often. It’s becoming hard to discern them from dreams.”
Dovian watched the sun as it lowered on the horizon. His thoughts traveled to what Euclid had told him mere moments before the attack on Lita’s church. The recent death of the elitist responsible for Dovian’s village being destroyed was implied to be done by Euclid.
“I will be paying Euclid a visit as well.” He further frowned. “He has a lot of explaining to do.”
***
Irises and orchids of varying colors decorated the church pillars. Banners of Emerald lined the domed ceiling, the insignia glimmering with an ethereal glow. Flames of blue and yellow lined the walls. At the front of the cathedral was a mass choir. Deep hums and high ‘ahs’ sang in slow musical tones. The Elder Gaius stood at the front of his podium. He had given the sermon and was now awaiting the attendants to say their goodbyes to the deceased Martelle. The young man’s body was encased in an upright glass box, to be preserved for eternity. Standing before his emerald banner, Martelle donned his ceremonial dress robes corresponding to his status. His dark hair had been cleaned and slicked with the sides pulled back in a braided ponytail. A headpiece lined his forehead. His injuries had been well hidden; color returned to his face. A thick band of gold clamped around his neck. Chains of a similar kind decorated his buttons and sleeves. Jewelry covered his hands. Flowers surrounded his body, some placed in his hands and hair. He appeared to be asleep.
A couple thousand attended the ceremony, each wearing their ceremonial dress. Some adorned themselves with assorted types of jewelry, feathers, headpieces, and capes. Some men revealed all their tattoos, half of which glowed like fiery lines upon their skin. The decoration was never overdone during events such as these. The scent of perfumes, incense, and flowers filled the room. Attendants packed the church and stretched out the doors toward the silver lakes. A gentle breeze carried the songs of the birds as they flitted from tree to tree; sun rays beamed against the stained-glass windows, the colors flickering as a small puff of a cloud passed overhead. It would be a day that Martelle would have written poetry while resting on his second-floor balcony. That which was once his favorite view caught a glimpse of both the lake and the mountains far on the horizon.
I’Lanthe stared out the window, watching the others lined up outside. Today, the weather filled her heart with sadness. It was all too perfect. She should have been happy that Martelle’s ceremony and the day were so beautiful. Instead, it pained her as it drove home the fact that she would never
see him again, at least, not alive. Fingers wrapped around hers, and she stared forward, gaining sight of Martelle’s face. Tears finally slipped out of the corners of her eyes.
The woman’s hair was pulled back by a silver crown of flowered designs; a dark veil shrouded her face. Her violet robes were tightly secured by a black lace corset and a matching cape that trailed behind. It was a haunting ensemble.
Dovian didn’t say anything but squeezed her hand. At that, the woman moved forward, twirling a red orchid in her fingertips. Martelle always liked her red orchids best. She gently dropped the flower at the foot of the box and stood before him, staring at his closed eyes. Gently, she placed her fingertips against the glass before his chest. She swallowed hard, her lips trembling. A quiet whimper escaped as she choked on a sob and quickly moved away, pulling Dovian with her. Frantically, they slipped into a foyer outside the banquet hall where a grand feast had been prepared with Martelle’s favorite foods–chocolate cake, Ivan wine, roast and vegetables, fresh fruit of all kinds, and honey tea. Darkness swallowed the couple, and I’Lanthe turned into Dovian’s arms, crying harshly into his chest. He held her as she sank to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, feeling completely powerless. There was no way to make things better for her. Martelle was gone, and at an age far too young for a Sorcēarian.
Dovian sat with I’Lanthe for nearly twenty minutes before she calmed enough to venture into the dining hall. She was thankful for the veil shrouding her makeup-smudged face, though no one would blame the woman for her appearance. She sat at the head table with her family, Dovian taking his place beside the dismal Lita at his family’s side. The Scarlet man kept a watchful eye over his lover as he tried his best to console his cousin.
I’Lanthe and her mother barely ate a thing, but they each partook in the drinking of the Ivan wine. Her father kept himself busy by chatting with the Elder Gaius. Elder Narita sat silently, watching the room. Outside of her late husband, this was the first she had lost someone in her lineage. She felt mostly numb to the ordeal, but the reassurance of Martelle’s song resonated within her. When she would have a difficult time stomaching the sadness of her girls, she would tell them of the sound filling her soul. It helped the women for only a moment; the pain was still too fresh.
Lita’s mother ventured to Dovian’s side. She leaned down and kissed Lita on the head before quietly asking him for a moment of his time. Cyerys had been particularly bothered by the passing of Martelle. It didn’t go unnoticed by Dovian. He was sure the older woman worried about the safety of her daughter after a tragic event such as Martelle’s death and the attack on Lita’s church.
“Are you doing alright?” Dovian asked.
Cyerys led him to a doorway away from any important ears. Shakily, she sipped on her wine.
“They were going to kill her,” she whispered.
“But they did not.” He kept his eyes on the crowd.
“But they could have.”
Dovian frowned and looked at his aunt with a worried expression.
She sighed. “You worry just as much as I do.”
“Of course.”
“She blames herself, you know?” Cyerys sniffled. “I heard her crying in her room. My sweet Lita.”
Dovian lowered his head. Lita rarely cried outside of times she was trying to be over-dramatic. It upset him to know that she was hurting so much.
“It wasn’t her fault. I told her that.”
“No, but she thinks she could have done more to help.” Her voice lowered even more. “By training in the Scarlet class.”
Dovian looked to Cyerys with an eyebrow slightly arching. By the manner she was speaking, it sounded as if she were suggesting the idea to him.
“She has mentioned it more than a few times,” he replied. “She’s always wanted to learn the ways of the warrior classes.”
“Her father absolutely refuses.”
“I’m quite aware.”
“However, I don’t.” There was a look of determination in her eyes. It was a look Lita often gave Dovian whenever she was up to no good.
“I’m listening.” He leaned closer to the woman.
“Dovian, I want you to train Lita in the arts of Scarlet status. I need her to be able to defend herself. I don’t care what her father says. You know it’s valuable she learns how to protect herself. She’s full of dark energy, I’m sure she would easily be able to focus her strengths into defense and weaponry.” Cyerys carefully watched her husband who was busy sharing stories with a group of men he used to battle with. “Lita deserves it. She’s been assaulted a few times in the past, but nothing like this. Things are escalating, and I fear she won’t be so lucky next time.” She looked to Dovian, desperation in her eyes. “Will you do this for me? In secret?”
Dovian took a deep breath, eyeing his disheartened cousin. The thought alone of seeing her in a glass case put a lump in his throat. He quickly motioned to Cyerys, kissing her cheek.
“I will,” he replied.
Cyerys, for the first time that day, smiled.
"I’Lanthe’s Despair"
Chapter 17
4,986 S.F.
Lita slowly strolled through the thick brush of the western forest. Tall grass and oversized dandelions tickled the edges of her thigh-high boots. In her hand was a bulky archery bow–crimson in color and adorned with gems. A thin bolt of lightning made up the draw cord. As she rounded a redwood, the sound of sticks snapping echoed throughout the forest. Lita held her breath and crouched, pressing her back against the tree trunk. Closing her eyes, she listened to her surroundings. A loud crack came from her left. Another twig snapped to the right. The optical reader synched to her armband registered the sound waves as echolocation. A dim hologram flickered above her wrist. The image revealed a large mass moving toward her. Another crack came, much closer this time. Following this noise was a succession of rumbles–footsteps of an immense creature. It neared at an incredible rate. Lita blew her dusty lavender hair out of her eyes and wiped at a bead of sweat. She still wasn’t used to the weight of her armor or the incredibly hot summer weather.
An alarming bellow warbled through the midday air and Lita dove from her hiding spot. As she did, she twisted midair and pulled on the bow’s string, a beam of electric energy forming between her fingertips. She released, sending a blast toward her target. A monstrous lizard crashed through a grouping of trees, his enormous jowls dripping drool. The blast hit the beast square in the chest, sending it skidding to the side into the opposite row of trees. Lita wasted no time. She pushed to her feet and fired again. The monster growled, leaping toward her. She skipped back, her eyes widening as the reptile neared.
He was humongous, towering over her by a few feet. His talons alone were nearly half her size. They could easily slice her in half. The creature’s long strides had it beside her in no time. Lita hopped to the side, narrowly avoiding snapping jaws. As she threw out her arms, her vibrant white wings unfolded from her back. With a flap, she leaped and grabbed a low hanging branch, flipping onto it. The lizard chomped at the branches just beneath her. Giving a few more flaps, she balanced halfway up the redwood. She glared at the beast as it jumped, trying to get a piece of her feet. Lita drew back once again, her face wrinkling as she concentrated on summoning a vast amount of dark energy. Regular hits weren’t going to take a beast of this size down. She needed to try something stronger.
A low hum buzzed through the air as Lita generated a zapping blade of black light between her fingers, the edges of the energy flickering in white. It expanded. She gnashed her teeth, giving a small growl as the power surged and doubled in size. She fought within herself, her white wings dripping with black ink, some of the feathers charring. Avoiding overconsumption of the power was the most difficult part about drawing dark energy. Making the same mistake before, she once again pulled too much. The tree cracked at the base, making her gasp. Before her refuge toppled over, Lita released the power. Instead of spiraling down towa
rd her target, the energy immediately blew up around her.
She yelped as her body spun harshly to the forest ground, sinking into the soft soil. All the air in her lungs burst out with a rushing hiss. The tree she had perched upon splintered, its pieces tumbling toward her. Lita quickly thrust her palm upward, casting a shield of light that forced the debris to fall around her. As her hand shook against the power, she gave another groan. After a moment, she released the shield, struggling to take a fresh breath of air. Breathing, however, took too much time. Before she could make another move, the lizard was upon her, its large mouth motioning to snatch her up and eat her whole. As the scaly muzzle moved against her, a stretching pink tongue licked her instead.
Lita spit, twisting away from the reptile. The creature made excitable snorting sounds, licking and bumping the girl with his nose. She coughed, making pained grunts as she tried to get away.
“Petey, enough,” Dovian commanded.
The lizard halted, impatiently stamping his feet as he watched Lita. Petey loved playing games with his mother. Most importantly, if he did well, he would get albatross eggs. And as far as Petey could tell, he had done very well at playing the scary monster.
Dovian moved to his cousin’s side. He waved his staff over her, sending a blue wash of light upon her. Lita sighed with relief and sat up, taking a few slow breaths.
“You expelled too much dark energy.” He mended her charred wings with his healing powers.
Lita coughed. “I wanted to try something new.”
“And nearly killed yourself in the process.” He shook his head.
“I swear, it’s the bow!”
“Don’t blame the weapon, Lita.” Dovian gave her a disapproving glare. Lita matched his expression.
“Actually, she may be right.” Karter joined them. He patted Petey on the side as he passed. “These are only practice bows. She may need to forge one of her own.”
“Once she does that, her energy will have 100% impact. There will be no way to expel it safely. She’s already displaying a dangerous amount of power with the safety regulators activated.” Dovian didn’t think that Lita having her own weapon was a smart idea. The practice weapons only melded with a small percentage of the user’s DNA to prevent any accidental injuries or deaths.