by A. R. Crebs
Azera lowered his head and closed his eyes. It took a moment for him to gather his focus. He reached into one of the side pockets of his uniform, retrieving a piece of Sorcēarian tech. He looped a thick wire around his ear and clicked his armband, projecting a hologram further down the aisle for all to see.
“I request a blind spell for Mr. Walten,” one councilman requested.
“No! I want to see!” Walten snidely remarked, lifting his chin. “I want to see what lies they feed you.”
Azera paid the man no mind and allowed the projection to replay the memories from Walten’s mind. The imagery started black, dissipating to reveal Walten crouched on the floor. Everyone watched through the man’s eyes. He rested on his hands and knees, staring at the blood speckles on his hands and arms. He breathed heavily and moaned. Slowly, his sight fled from his hands to the hacked bodies on the floor. There was a series of gasps from the viewers. Walten’s eyesight jittered from his wife to his two children, repeatedly traveling to each one. It was a gruesome sight but revealed the truth either way. Walten stood, his eyes catching sight of a large silhouette in the dining room. It seemed tall, with large wings. He screamed, backing away from the murder scene. It was then that Azera halted the memory playback.
“See! It’s one of them! You can clearly see the wings!” Walten cried out.
“You will be silent,” Narita spoke up, her patience wearing thin.
“One more word and you will be sentenced to a detention hearing,” another added.
“If I may speak,” I’Lanthe suddenly stated.
“What have you noticed?” Narita replied to her great-granddaughter.
“Azera, the silhouette of the supposed murderer…can we see that in clearer detail?” I’Lanthe politely asked.
Azera did as requested, bringing up the silhouette to review.
“Can you lighten this vision for us? Adjust the contrast?” I’Lanthe gestured in certain areas over the silhouette.
“Modifying the vision?” Walten scoffed.
“Bringing us more clarity, sir.” I’Lanthe remained well-mannered to the aggressive man.
Fardon smirked. “Keen eyes, young woman.”
I’Lanthe gave a small bow.
The silhouette of what was presumed to be a Sorcēarian cleared. A large mirror occupied one side of the dining room. It had caught Walten’s dark reflection. Behind him was a window where two trees sat on either side. The branches hung low on both ends, meeting in the center to where it gave the man’s form the illusion of wings. He had been scared by his own reflection.
“Lies!” Walten shouted.
“Can we brighten the vision more? To see Walten better?” One member asked.
Azera motioned with his fingers, and the hologram brightened to near daylight, casting the highlights in a searing white. From there, they could plainly see Walten’s clothing covered in blood. He had been wearing another outfit when he supposedly discovered the bodies. To find him saturated in red, the large hatchet lying beside his feet, it was clear that he was the prime suspect in the murder case.
“No! Lies!” Walten slammed his palms against the table.
The council turned toward the irate man, each member lacking any form of sympathy.
“Mr. Walten, you are to be put under arrest. We will carry out this investigation in your jurisdiction.” The head speaker spoke with authority. He gestured to the surrounding human police officers that lined the lower balcony on the floor. Together they marched toward Mr. Walten, handcuffed him, and escorted him from the trial room. The man thrashed and cursed, creating a cringe-worthy display.
The head of the council adjusted his tie. “Sir Gaius, we appreciate your cooperation with this investigation. If there are any more questions, we’ll be in touch.”
Gaius bowed. “Of course.”
From there, the council returned to their seats to form a concluding statement for the records. Dovian shook his head.
“Do you think he really believed in what he saw? Had he become so mad that he didn’t realize he was the actual killer?” Karter asked.
“It’s possible. The human mind is very weak. Many suffer from mental illness and delusions after facing traumatic events. It’s also quite possible that he’s good at lying, had used the reflection as a way to place the blame. Highly unlikely, but he may have wanted to fool us,” Orin speculated.
“He’s fully aware of what he did. He knows he killed them,” Euclid grumbled.
“How can you be sure?” Quentin asked.
Quentin’s question grated on Euclid’s nerves. “I’ve lived and worked with these kinds of scum for hundreds of years. I know how they operate. After a while, you don’t need magic tricks to learn the nature of humanity. You learn to see it with your own eyes. No special skills required.” Euclid reached toward Orin, flicking him on the side of the head.
“Ow! Damn it,” Orin protested, rubbing his temple.
Euclid snorted a small chuckle and rose, stretching and cracking his bones. “As entertaining as this has been, I do believe I have more important things to concern myself with.”
“Euclid.” Dovian grabbed his arm.
Euclid made a small grunt in response.
“Would you like to have dinner sometime to discuss what happened during yesterday’s meeting?” Dovian asked.
Euclid’s face fell. Why would Dovian dare bring that dreadful encounter up now? In front of his comrades no less. Euclid leaned forward, peering down at him.
“I don’t believe there’s anything else that needs to be discussed. If any further thoughts are to be held about the situation, it’ll have to do with your great-grandfather’s incessant prying and urge to end my career,” Euclid sneered. “Anything else I say to close friends or otherwise will from hereafter be greatly filtered. It’s clear there is no one I can trust.”
Dovian’s face fell into a mix of disappointment and pain. Euclid huffed and disappeared.
“What in the world was that all about?” Quentin inquired.
“It seems Euclid is unhappy with me nearly as much as he is my great-grandfather.”
Dovian sagged in his chair. As conversation carried on, he couldn’t focus on anything more than Euclid’s sharp words. The last thing Dovian ever wanted was to create tension between him and who he considered his best friend. It was a dreadful feeling.
‘I do hope he can stay out of trouble.’
Unfortunately, staying out of trouble was the last thing on Euclid’s mind. In fact, he had no plans of becoming a law-abiding citizen anytime soon. Not only had he been denied Gold status, but he also hadn’t been cleared for any further development in any other class. Gaius had him under house arrest, forced him to interact with humanity in the most opposite of desired ways, and now was trying to pin him for further criminal activity. So, what if he had killed a few? He had lived a long time. Most humans he worked with killed much more in their single minuscule lifetime. Anything and everything Euclid did was for the betterment of his people and land. He loved Ives. He loved the perfection of it. The entire world needed to be like Ives. It was asinine for the Elders to think the two races could live together in harmony. Humanity was a disease.
Humanity took Euclid’s mother, his father’s arm. They killed thousands upon thousands more. Dovian’s wonderful mother, she was also gone due to humanity’s dreadful decisions, which was another sore point for Euclid. Why hadn’t Dovian seen things his way? He, of all people, should understand why humanity didn’t deserve paradise. Euclid had seen into the hearts of many. Humanity always had the same goals in mind—steal what they could from the weak, destroy anything they couldn’t have. Ives was always under threat of being attacked. The only reason war never broke out on Ives was because humanity still feared the Sorcēarians. Instead, humanity focused their attacks on Euclid’s race during their own battles. Humanity stole Sorcēarian technology, took agricultural advancements for granted, and blamed the angelic race for all their woes. They were parasites.
An idea invaded Euclid’s mind and quickly formed into a strategy. For his race to survive, he needed to get rid of humanity. For this to happen, Euclid had to find a way to twist humanity’s perception of the Sorcēarian race. Stakes were already high. Sorcēarians were regular targets to hate crimes. Now humanity had taken to blaming them for murder. With a bit more persuasion, perhaps he could strike the match to the fire. It would take time, but thanks to the book he stole, he had a few new tricks up his sleeve. It was only a matter of time. No one and nothing could hold him back.
Later that night, Euclid watched as Walten slept in his cell. How the human could sleep was beyond him. It only angered him.
“You’re sleeping well for having your family slaughtered,” Euclid murmured.
Walten stirred. Sitting up in bed, the man narrowed his eyes to gain better sight of his dark surroundings. He cocked his head, confused.
“So that tells me you’re feeling no sorrow. At least, I don’t detect any.” Euclid continued watching, not revealing himself to the human.
“Where are you?” Walten asked the surrounding night.
Silence answered the man. Just as Walten was about to give up and lie back down, a dark mist flooded through the cell door toward him. Euclid materialized, his face inches from the man’s.
“Right here,” he responded.
Walten tried to scream, but Euclid held a hand over his mouth.
“Don’t ruin this for me,” Euclid whispered, his eyes fleeing to the door.
With a wiggle of his fingers, a dome formed around them. The illusion cast outside was one of Walten asleep in his cell.
“Can you keep quiet for this very important conversation?” Euclid dryly asked.
Walten nodded vigorously. Euclid released, and the man immediately spoke. “Why should I even listen to you?”
Euclid glowered. “You are as stubborn as you are stupid. I wouldn’t waste my time on you if I didn’t have a good reason for it. You’ve already lost your case. There’s no way anyone will believe a Sorcēarian killed your family. Unless….”
Walten listened intently. “Unless?”
“The fact that you aren’t arguing with me tells me that you are indeed guilty of murdering them.”
Euclid read the man. Walten felt no remorse.
“Yeah, so? She was an annoying, ungrateful bitch. Trapped me by getting herself knocked up. Ruined my life.” He scoffed. “Then she found out about my secretary and wanted a divorce. Damn near ruined my career with all her bitching.”
Euclid took in a slow deep breath, closing his eyes. After a moment, he opened them once again, the orbs glimmering with blue fire. He grinned. “So, I have the perfect plan.”
“Yeah?”
“To fool the world, you have to believe in what you saw. A genuine belief. That way, there’s no chance of failing any lie detectors of any kind.”
“Even the Sorcēarian kind?”
Euclid nodded as his smile widened. “Especially the Sorcēarian kind.”
Walten wasted no time deciding. “So how does this work?”
Euclid reached forward, placing his palms on either side of the man’s head. “Like this.”
Walten gasped, his body tensing beneath Euclid’s touch.
“May hurt a bit,” the Sorcēarian quickly stated.
Walten screamed, his body quaking, foam seeping from the corners of his mouth. The man’s mind swirled with a dark fog. Like flickering bolts of lightning, his memory altered. The images implanted revealed to him a Sorcēarian murdering his family. As Euclid worked at the false memories, he debated on the face. For some reason, the first person to come to mind was Quentin. Quentin pitied this worthless piece of trash. Now it was time for Quentin to understand the true power of humanity’s evil. As he pieced Walten’s memories together, he implanted the image of Quentin in his scarlet robes, covered in blood. In the end, Quentin’s wings spread, and he disappeared, leaving the horrified Walten alone inside his home beside his family’s pieces.
Euclid tore his hands away, looking up at the dome surrounding them. Walten shrieked, his body shaking as his awareness returned.
“What happened?” Walten gasped. “My…my family!”
Euclid placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “A Sorcēarian murdered your family.”
Gawking, Walten nodded slowly.
“The World Council and you met with the Elders on Ives. They placed you under the Truthseers where your visions were altered to make everyone believe that you killed your family.”
Walten’s mouth bobbed up and down, his eyes darting side to side as he recalled the events by Euclid’s words.
“That…that Sorcēarian killed them. It was so…awful,” Walten whispered. “Do, do you know who the murderer is?” The man seemed slightly confused, completely overwhelmed by this new set of memories.
Euclid nodded. “I do.”
“You have to tell me. I need to get…revenge. I need to avenge my family!” Walten hissed, his awareness slowly settling.
“Come with me. I know exactly where he is.” Euclid stood. It was then that Walten realized the size of the Azure man; the Sorcēarian had been kneeling beside him.
“You’re taking me to him?” Walten asked. He seemed a bit frightful.
“Did you not just tell me you wanted revenge?”
Euclid paused, detecting a presence outside the dome. A guard busied himself with checking the prisoners. The man waited outside Walten’s cell only for a moment before moving on. The outside illusion worked perfectly. Euclid could barely contain his pleasure.
“Yeah. I do. Leave it to these pigs, and they’ll end up framing me for killing my own family!” Walten sputtered. “Oh, it was terrible.”
Euclid’s expression deadpanned as he saw the tears line the man’s eyes. How hard it was for him not to disintegrate Walten right then. Still, Euclid had a use for him. Walten’s death would have to wait.
“I’m sure it was. Now, come on.” Euclid already grew impatient.
“How are we getting out?” Walten finally pushed to his feet. Euclid tapped his tuner, and Walten shook his head. “Nuh uh. No way. I heard those things tear humans to shreds.”
Euclid rolled his eyes. “Only if you try to use it yourself. With me, you’ll be fine.” He had mastered a secondary spell which allowed him to teleport with humans. It was a method that often required two Sorcēarians to do. Only Sir Gaius was known to be capable of teleporting many at once on his own. But with Gaius’ spellbook, Euclid had learned much in very little time.
“But how can I trust you?” Walten barely formed the question before Euclid harshly snatched his forearm and pulled him through the portal.
They arrived outside a mansion made of beautiful stone, rich woods, and stained-glass windows. The garden was immaculate with fountains and stone wall fencing. Walten peered over his shoulders. A cool breeze rolled by; wind chimes musically played. It was like paradise. Stunning manors and rolling hills surrounded them. Each home had an enormous plot of land. Some had lakes in the backyards. It took a moment for realization to sink in for Walten.
“We…we’re on Ives?” he asked.
“Clearly,” Euclid grumbled, moving toward the home before them. He eyed the dark bedroom window multiple levels above.
“Whose house is this?” Walten asked.
“Who do you think?”
The human gasped. “It’s his house? The…the murderer?”
“It is. Now, come with me.” Euclid grabbed the man’s arm once again and teleported. They materialized inside the bedroom. The Azure Sorcēarian pointed toward the bed and eyed his human companion. “There.”
Euclid’s hands quaked as the teleportations used up much of his energy. A deep breath allowed him to replenish a smidgeon more. All Euclid had to do was look at the human beside him, and his hate meter filled up.
“That’s him?” Walten tried to gain a better look at the sleeping body.
Euclid smirked.
&nb
sp; “What do you want me to do?” Walten asked.
Euclid held out his hand, a black cloud pulling in the same hatchet that had killed the man’s family. “The only thing you can do.” His eyes lit up. The words echoed in the human’s mind.
“The only thing…I can do,” Walten droned.
The man took the weapon and slowly marched forward. Through his foggy vision, he stared at the sleeping Sorcēarian’s face. Was that what he looked like? Walten tried to remember. Slowly, the remembrance of Quentin’s visage overrun the blurry face before him. The sight triggered the murder scene again in the man’s mind, feeding the man’s hate. Lifting his arms over his head, Walten hacked right into the sleeping Sorcēarian’s chest. Quentin’s eyes opened as a silent, gurgling scream erupted past his lips. Walten winced, tugging the hatchet from the victim’s torso, and brought it down again, sinking it further into his ribcage. Quentin’s face blurred, morphing into the face of another younger man.
“What is this?” Walten shouted as he glanced back at Euclid.
“It’s an illusion. He has fooled us. Quick.” Euclid, trying to hide his smile, reached for Walten. The man wrenched the weapon out of the Sorcēarian’s body. “End him.”
“He’s not…he’s not the right one.” Walten’s breathing became erratic. “He’s a boy. Barely a man.”
“End him. Don’t make him suffer,” Euclid snarled.
Quentin’s youngest son lay on the mattress, his fingers digging into the blankets. His body quaked behind his haggard gasps as he slowly drowned in his own blood. The boy’s shocked eyes fled to Euclid, and the Azure man felt a pang of dread.
“Kill him now.” He planted a command in Walten’s mind.
Without hesitation, the human cracked the hatchet against the dying boy’s head. Euclid’s senses went off like an alarm. He quickly bowed into the shadows, masking all his energy. Walten continued hacking until the bedroom door burst open. In ran a woman with fiery red hair, Quentin’s beloved wife, Valeria. Not being trained in any status, she was nothing more than a common baker. Valeria’s eyes dropped onto the blood-soaked hatchet in Walten’s hand and then the gory mess of her son’s corpse. She ran forward, screeching.