The Esoteric Design: Civilization Lost

by A. R. Crebs

  Sir Gaius clasped his hands. “Ah, perhaps it can give me some clues to further our current investigation of the missing relics.”

  Euclid’s nails dug into the back of his folded hands.

  “If we can figure out more about Sarkov’s death, perhaps we could get a lead on the whereabouts of the relics. In exchange, we can hopefully solve a mystery that plagues our own race.”

  “Such as?” the speaker pried.

  “Ah, some questions have arisen about an operative working the case during that time. We’d like to hold our own investigation of an unrelated series of events. This case seems to hold a common thread. Perhaps both races can gather some much-needed evidence.” Gaius vaguely gave the details.

  One councilman clicked along his portable database. “There are no known living relatives to Sarkov.”

  “Does anyone disagree with the Elder’s request?” the speaker asked with a small yawn.

  None of the councilmen seemed particularly concerned. It was just another day’s work. There was a moment of silence before the speaker clapped a small wooden hammer upon the table. “Permission to exhume Sarkov’s body is granted. All evidence gathered must be included in council records. All remains shall also be returned to their rightful place. Are you in agreeance?”

  “Of course.” Gaius gave a small bow.

  He never once acknowledged Euclid. The raven-haired man, however, had nearly shot beams from his eyes. Dovian clamped his lips. He was not expecting such passive-aggressive tactics on Sir Gaius’ part. To call out Euclid while surrounded by the entire council was bold if ingenious. Even Euclid would refrain from an emotional outburst in such a time. However, once the Azure man returned home, things may turn out differently.

  Dovian looked to Orin who busied himself with sending messages to Elizabeth; he clearly wasn’t aware of Euclid’s possible connections to the death of Sarkov.

  “Is that all?” the speaker hummed.

  “Yes.” Gaius smirked. He gave a fleeting nod to Azera whose eyes focused on the back of Euclid’s head.

  “Moving on to order number two hundred and sixty-eight.”

  A chill ran down Dovian’s spine, and he looked back toward the center of the room. The furious blue eyes of Euclid watched him. Dovian gulped beneath the man’s glare. At that moment, he knew for sure, Euclid was in big trouble. Without a doubt, his friend was going to focus a lot of his frustrations upon the Gaius family.

  "The Bartender"

  Chapter 21

  Slipping through darkness was one of Euclid’s specialties. He could shroud his energy, muffle his footsteps, and over the years had even learned to cover his scent. With ease, he traversed through the gaping halls of the Gaius complex, avoiding the light of the moon that peeked between the velvet curtains. Sneaking through homes, compounds, and businesses were all routine. However, he had not tested his covert skills in a building such as this. It was possible that Gaius was as naïve as most Sorcēarians—so trusting that he bothered with no locks or spells to protect his home. Euclid wasn’t going to bet on it. So far it had been easy. He only had to whisper a few spells to get through the locked doors leading to these halls. But one thing made him uneasy; he had not run into Azera.

  Either the servient man currently patrolled the other halls, or he was like everyone else and actually did sleep. As Euclid slid toward Gaius’ office, he contemplated if he had ever seen Azera eat before. He smirked. Right. Nearly seventy-five years ago the giant warrior had once partaken in too much of the Iven wine; even stumbled upon the stage to sing a song with one of the civilian women. Even that spectacle amused Euclid. The memory eased him. Azera was, after all, just like the others. His loyalty and obedience to the Elder Gaius were above the call of duty, to the point where it was often terrifying. Still, Azera ate, drank, slept, and surely could die like the rest.

  A flicker of ultraviolet light caught Euclid’s attention. A light trap secured the area a few feet before Gaius’ door. Euclid’s smile twisted. Even the Elder feared infiltration. The Sorcēarian shook his head, wanting to laugh. A light trap wasn’t going to prevent him from moving forward.

  Holding out a hand, Euclid spoke an incantation, summoning a cloud of darkness. He released the energy, the cloud spiraling toward the trap. The vapor grew, billowing upward to shroud the entire entrance, and slipped through the crack beneath the door. It filled the room, rendering the snares inside useless. With ease, he reached for the doorknob and abruptly halted. He could feel the buzzing of electricity and quickly retracted his hand. Euclid wasn’t good at dealing with electrical currents. It seemed power lined the entire door. One touch could nearly fry him to death. A human would vaporize if they made contact.

  “Someone’s got a lot to hide,” Euclid accused behind his teeth.

  He waited, thinking. He couldn’t simply use his frequency tuner to get inside. Gaius had a disruptive shield encasing this area of the complex. If one person tried to get through, the frequencies would scramble. Euclid wasn’t positive what would happen, but he could end up on the opposite side of the world, wind up in space, lost in time, or even obliterated. He didn’t want to test it.

  Taking a deep breath, he focused on the doorknob. The best way to develop dark energy was to concentrate on hate. That was easy enough for a Sorcēarian already brimming with dark energy. Euclid hated humans, hated the council, hated the Elders, and above all loathed Sir Gaius—with his pious, pompous attitude. Why Gaius would spare humanity was beyond him. Gaius favored humanity over his own race. Sorcēarians were superior. They had power. They had knowledge. Their way of life would be perfect if not for humanity. Statuses such as Azure and Scarlet would never be needed if Sorcēarians didn’t have to fight in humanity’s wars, coddling the inferior race like pathetic crying children. The thought alone made his blood boil.

  ‘Give us more food. We demand more water. Build our cities. Give us your technology. Heal our diseases. You owe us. You don’t belong here. This is our planet. Fight our wars. You have no right to fight in our wars. You have no right to build your churches on our lands. You plague us with your false religion. Go back to where you came from.’ Euclid’s mind swirled with all the complaints he had heard over his many, many years.

  “Go back to where you came from, but deliver us from our self-made hell, first,” Euclid mocked. “Ungrateful, sinful, weak, disgusting creations.”

  Thick black vapors coated his hands, and Euclid grasped the knob, opening it with haste. He wiggled his fingers, watching the electrical current dance through the murky haze. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the gunky power to the floor, the ooze crackling with miniature bolts of lightning. Either Gaius was growing weak with his old age, or Euclid had grown stronger. It had been a long time since he fought on the battlefield. Perhaps he had merely underestimated his own strength.

  As he stepped into the office, Euclid’s mind went silent. No human voices clogged his thoughts. And as like before, still no Heaven Song. It was a strange silence, but one that no longer bothered him. Euclid had been granted the silence to think on his own. And without the hymnal praises ringing in his mind, he could finally recognize that he was justified. Humanity was a lost cause.

  Slinking to one of Gaius’ many bookcases, Euclid’s eyes scanned for the book. Ever since he laid his hands on it as a small child, he craved the knowledge contained within—spells grander than those natural of most Elders, access to portals and merging of realms, anything and everything he could dream. With his hand reached out, he felt the energies of the books. Nothing. These were normal tomes. However, there was an itchy sensation on the back of his neck. Euclid spun, eyeing the giant desk in the center of the room. Of course, Gaius would keep it locked away.

  Growing impatient, Euclid palmed a wave of energy toward the desk, popping open all the drawers. He hurried, rummaging through each one until he finally found the massive book encased in glass. A protection spell locked it. Still, Euclid could leave now. Slipping the case under an arm, he h
astily shut the drawers and rushed out of the room. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the shadowy spells he had cast and locked the door behind him, Gaius’ power taking over as it had before. As he merged with the shadows in the hall, Euclid’s dark cloud traveled with him, concealing his power. Once in the clear, he teleported to his home where he could concentrate on releasing the desired item from its protective casing.

  With the book, Euclid could escalate his powers to Gold Status. With great power, good things were possible just as much as bad. Euclid could maximize his strength, learn all he ever desired. He could overpower the Elders with time. As for humanity, well, he was going to show them the true power of the Arbitrator. The thought excited him, a rare feeling indeed.

  “I’ll show them survival of the fittest,” Euclid laughed.

  ***

  Dovian awoke to an unimaginable amount of commotion. Before he could fully wake, his bedroom door flew open.

  “Dovian! Wake up, you lazy bum!” Lita burst into his room, already dressed and munching on a muffin. She threw one at him, the food smacking his bare chest.

  “You’re a terrible alarm.”

  “I fed you.”

  Dovian picked up the muffin and bit into it. It was still warm. “I retract my statement.”

  “Hurry up. There’s some crazy stuff going down in the trial room.”

  “Our trial room?” he asked, haphazardly pulling on his robes as Lita attempted to help but created more trouble instead.

  “Duh!” She rolled her eyes.

  Dovian hopped on one leg as he tugged on his boots, his muffin in his mouth. “Mwike mwhat?”

  “Like…a human is accusing our race of killing his family or something insane like that!” Lita exclaimed. “Hurry!”

  Dovian stumbled as she pulled on his coat sleeves. His belt was forgotten as Lita decided he was dressed well enough and pulled him with her to the trial room using her tuner. They arrived, the room in utter chaos. Dovian grimaced, quickly taking a seat beside Lita, opposite of Karter. In the row behind sat Orin and Quentin. Dovian scanned the area, catching sight of the Elders at the front of the room with Gaius upon his massive throne. A human sat in the center, scowling at the leaders. Behind him, however, was another table where the World Council sat. It was highly unusual.

  “Silence!” Sir Gaius lifted his hands.

  The noise quickly hushed to a few whispers.

  “Mr. Walten, state your reason for being here,” Narita spoke up. The man shivered at the sound of her cool scratchy voice. Behind Narita stood I’Lanthe. I’Lanthe currently mentored beneath the Violet Elder. At that moment, the young protege appeared regal and powerful. Dovian tried to calm his increased heart rate.

  “My family was found dead last night,” the human replied with a brash tone. From where he sat, Dovian gauged the man’s emotions and inner thoughts. The human hated Sorcēarians. It was going to be a rough trial to witness.

  “In what manner were they killed?” Sir Gaius asked.

  The man’s face wrinkled. He was freshly washed, wearing his finest clothing. Despite the trauma, he seemed to have put a lot of attention on his appearance despite his family having been killed the night before.

  His lower lip trembled. “They were…uh…they were in pieces,” he answered.

  The room gasped.

  Sir Gaius began, “You have my condolences. Nobody should witness—”

  “I don’t want your condolences! I want my family back!” The man’s eyes glimmered with tears of hate.

  The Elders whispered among each other.

  “You know we cannot do this for you,” Sir Gaius calmly stated.

  “You took them away; I want them back!” the man shouted, his fist pounding atop the table.

  Lita and Dovian exchanged worried looks. There were very few accounts of a Sorcēarian murdering someone. Each time it was a crime of passion and the perpetrator ended up killing himself as well.

  “Oh, this should be interesting,” Euclid chuckled.

  Lita and Dovian both jumped at the sound of the man’s voice.

  “You’re far too good at that.” Dovian rolled his eyes.

  “I’ve been practicing,” Euclid dryly stated. He rested his feet on the chair in front of him. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Lita and sneered. “Morning, Lita.”

  She decided to ignore him. Dovian wouldn’t blame her for her lack of response.

  “So, this man thinks one of us killed his family by hacking them to pieces?” Euclid watched the man carefully.

  “Seems so. I can’t get a positive read on him, but he seems to believe that is what happened.” Dovian frowned. Violent actions such as dismemberment just wasn’t a Sorcēarian’s style.

  “Wait until the Truthseers get ahold of him. They’ll be able to see through the fog in his mind; that is if he isn’t outright lying.” Euclid’s head rolled to the side where he lazily gazed upon his silver-haired friend. “Monitoring heart rate and breathing aren't enough to catch their lies anymore. For a case such as this, they’ll need to bring out the professionals.”

  “Wouldn’t Fardon be able to tell?” Dovian wondered.

  “Yes, but he’s not as good as Azera.” Euclid chuckled, casually waving as Azera, who remained far at the front of the room at Sir Gaius’ side, suddenly brought his attention to them. “Keen ears as well, I understand.”

  “Azera could hear a flea sneeze across the lakes,” Dovian whispered, watching the Golden Warrior.

  Sir Gaius suddenly stood from his oversized seat. “I request the council’s permission to have this man undergo an interview with my Truthseers.”

  Mr. Walten seemed to dislike the idea. However, the council granted the Elder his request. Sir Gaius called for his top three Truthseers to rise and join him in the center of the room. They, the Elders, councilmen, Azera, and Walten formed an organized crowd in the center of the room. Sir Gaius molded a dome around them, allowing for a private conversation. There followed a series of grumbles and moans from the spectators.

  “Orin?” Dovian asked, his sight focused on the dome.

  “They’re conversing.” Orin’s eyes swirled. He had grown strong over the years, nearly to his grandfather’s level. “Walten is scared. He’s recounting the events.”

  Orin’s head twitched as he observed, much the way a bird would. “The Truthseers are all reaching similar conclusions. There still seems to be a debate between two councilmen.”

  “What are they debating?” Euclid roughly asked.

  “I can’t hear as well as I see, Euclid,” Orin curtly responded.

  Quentin frowned, shaking his head. “What a terrible thing to go through. Losing your entire family…so…suddenly and horribly.”

  Euclid scoffed in irritation. He received a few glares from his surrounding comrades.

  “What?” Euclid turned a bit in his seat. He gnashed his teeth in response to the neighboring stares. “You mean in the way that many of us have encountered? By the hands of his people?”

  “Euclid, please. Save the debate.” Dovian held up a hand.

  “You know very well what I speak of, Dovian. Don’t ignore it.” Euclid nearly wanted to smack his hand away.

  Dovian’s icy eyes brightened. “I do; I don’t need reminding. Regardless of what happened to my mother and your own, we cannot accuse an entire race of behaving the same.”

  “Though they kill more of their own kind compared to us.”

  “A man lost his family last night. Can you spare us all only one hour for the sake of the situation?”

  Euclid’s expression softened, and he exhaled through his nose. Folding his arms, he returned his attention to the floor. Karter and Lita each dared a side glance toward the unruly man. Euclid, his eyes on the dome, motioned the back of his hand toward the two, dismissing their scrutiny.

  “Azera is speaking now.” Orin gave a short quiet laugh. “Seems Walten is not pleased by this news.”

  “Have they reached a verdict?”
Dovian asked.

  “I think so.”

  Not soon after Orin finished speaking did the dome shatter. Mr. Walten left the circle, breaking the protective barrier surrounding them. He hollered and swore, pointing accusingly at the Elders.

  “You lie! I saw it! I saw it with my own eyes!” the man screamed.

  “Silence!” one councilman shouted.

  “Don’t tell me to silence! My family is dead! And these…these monsters are liars! I saw it! There was a man, and he was giant, and he had wings!” Walten screamed.

  Azera raised a hand, gathering the attention of the others. Walten paid him no mind as he sputtered and paced back and forth.

  “The man’s stress at the moment of his revelation created delusions. It’s possible he walked in on the killer. His mind pieced together a series of shadows, confusing the murderer with one of our kind. I assure you, despite what he thinks, he did not see a Sorcēarian. The family’s wounds, through his mind’s eye, were done by a hatchet. Anybody could have committed this crime. In fact, he, himself, could have done it with his own hands, the illusion of a Sorcēarian being part of his denial.” Azera dryly stated.

  “You son of a bitch! How dare you insinuate that I killed them!” Walten screamed, spittle flying past his lips.

  “You have a record of domestic violence, do you not?” Azera asked.

  Walten clammed up, his mouth bobbing up and down. He slowly backed away as the Council eyed him with interest.

  “Investigate his history of violence. From this moment on, we insist there should be no more Sorcēarian involvement unless you request our aid at the crime scene. For now, you should be able to gather enough evidence on your own. Mr. Walten’s case belongs in your jurisdiction to be tried in human courts,” Azera concluded.

  “This is all fine and dandy through your court system, but how could humanity believe what you saw?” one of the European councilmen questioned.

  Sir Gaius nodded in understanding. “Azera, materialize the data into a viewable source for our human counterparts.”